Once in a Blue Moon

**Date Started:** 26 November, 2021
**Date Completed:** Ongoing
**Users Involved:** User:DazzlingEmerald, User:Loominarty, User:EmperorSigma, User:TheCheeseMeister, User:Sir Ice Man
**Setting:** Manhattan, New York City
**Characters Involved**: Sasaki, Aaliyah Emil, Michael Davis, Sakata
* **Hollows**: Sceloporus,

## Adjusting the Sails

*Beep. Beep. Beep. Snooze.*

A few minutes went by.

*Beep. Beep. Snooze.*

A few more minutes went by.

*Beep. Snooze.*

One too many minutes had gone by.

*Snooze.*

Sasaki lifted up his head, groggy eyes panning to his mortal enemy: the alarm clock. It took his eyes a few moment to adjust to the dim lighting in the room. The world was a blur for a moment longer before he could make out what the clock read: 6:00 A.M.

"Shit," he groaned aloud, getting up from his bed. As he cleared his blanket he unveiled himself to be in no more than a pair of boxers. With little time to waste, he hastly decided that there was no time to make his bed. He reached this decision as he paced to the bathroom, sliding across the floor in his socks but luckily catching himself on the sink before he could bust his head on the toilet.

He reached for his toothbrush only to realize that there was no toothpaste left in the tube. He undid the nozzle and cuffed his hand into a fist, praying and hoping there would be a little sliver left in the tube that he could squeeze out, but to no avail. He was out of luck. He tossed the rest of the tube toward the trash can, only to miss his mark. He figured out halfway into his piss that the toothpaste tube had actually ended up in the toilet, not that he could reach for it now.

Breakfast was burnt toast and a few gulps of water from the kitchen sink. The apartment was a mess; clothes and pages of the newspaper tossed around the room. But he could not deny how beautiful Manhattan looked through the window pane he had for a wall. It was still dark out and all the neighboring buildings and cars still had all their lights flashed on. Sasaki broke himself out of the trance and tossed on the same suit he wore every day for the last week then made his way on over to the real exhibit: his shoe collection. While the rest of his clothes were tossed around on the couches and some even under his bed, his actual closet was like a museum for his shoes. Sasaki was an avid shoe collect. A sneakerhead. The closet was a cosplay of New York city with how the boxes stacked on top of each other almost looked like buildings in their own right.

This was where the bulk of Sasaki's pay check went. He pulled one of the boxes and slid on a new pair of Kobe's, careful not to undo the knot that came done on the shoe when he'd bought them. That way they still felt brand new. He ran his hands through his hair and just like that he was out of the door. Normal humans took the elevator because they didn't have the luxury Sasaki did; for reasons yet unexplained he was swift, incredibly so. For this reason the stairwell was his preferred method of reaching the bottom floor, even from twentieth floor of the building.

Sasaki sprawled out onto the streets. Being in New York City itself was all too surreal --like a dream come true. His thoughts ran rampant as he stared into the sky on his way to work. Buildings raced each other in a quest to touch the soft blue sky and people littered the streets and sidewalks. Life there was upbeat and fast-paced and everyone and everything was moving, even after crossing into Central Park. Crossing the sidewalk into the large park was like crossing the border into another world. The milieu changed from the rapid fire movement of the concrete jungle to slow-moving peace in the blink of an eye. Skyscrapers were replaced with real trees that stood tall, though not tall enough to completely block out the looming buildings.

Walking down the Manhattan streets, it’s almost customary to smell the smoke of exhaust from thousands of cars. The smoke coming from Subway stations underneath the roads went into the nostrils quicker than it could be seen. It almost made him feel like if he were a big giant walking along houses under his feet that have smoke coming out of their chimneys. At the same time the smell of hotdogs stands, salted pretzel stands made him aware of their presence as his smell sensors go crazy, and start telling his brain to get some. He could try his best but the smell from Italian pizzerias will surely pull him in for a slice or two eventually.

Sasaki entered ESPN headquarters with an empty sheet of wax paper in his hand and a fresh kneaded bagel in his mouth. He gave a nod to the rest of his cast and those who worked the cameras as he slid on stage and took his seat opposite to none other than Stephen A. Smith, the world's most prized and polished sports analyst, which Sasaki hoped to someday be himself.

Sasaki found his seat with minutes to spare. Minutes before the cameras went on, he and Stephan A. exchanged looks. Stephen A. cast his usual dismissive expression over Sasaki, treating him like he was a mere after thought. Three days into his new job, Sasaki had already grown acustommed to the way Stephen A. treated him. He'd been watching him for years, after all. He felt like he had an edge for that reason.

The lights went on and a female host sitting between the two gentleman introduced the first topic. "Gentleman, hope everybody had a great Thanksgiving! Let's get right into our first topic for the day. In Wednesdays's exhibition match against the Indiana Pacers, LeBron James scored 39 points including two clutch 3 pointers in overtime to lead the Lakers to a much needed victory." She looked in Sasaki's direction. "Sasaki, did LeBron James prove last night that he's still the NBA's best player?"

Stephen A. eyed Sasaki before he could even open his mouth to speak. The look in his eyes said it all. It almost felt like he was daring him to say what he wanted, but Sasaki wasn't just going to conform to what he knew Stephen A. wanted him to say. Sasaki cleared his throat and dramatically aligned the stack of papers in his hand by tapping the bottom edge against the desk. "You know what, Molly. I think with the way Steph and KD have played all year it would be a little bit of a disservice to them to sit here after one game and crown LeBron as the best."

"Thank you," Stephen A. grumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes off to the side.

"But you know what, I think Wednesday was a statement game for LeBron. I think after what happened in Detroit --when he got suspended-- I think it really put him in another mindset. Especially seeing in New York that AD and the other guys aren't going to be making it any easier on him in year 19, I think LeBron sort of realized 'Okay, I still have to be *that* guy. I may not get a chance to rest here like I hoped. But I missed too many games already, I have people getting disrespectful with the headlines. It's time to go back out there and show them what I can do'." Sasaki turned to Stephen A. "Stephen A., I think it's still very, very possible that by the end of the season me and you will be sitting right here talking about how LeBron was the best player all along. It might not look that way now but you give him some more time --by All Star break, even-- the Lakers are going to make a run and be a completely different ball club."

"Oh for the love of god, give me a break!" Stephen A. yawned, taking his turn by interrupting Sasaki's take. "I mean really? *Really*? After just one game? Do you have any idea what LeBron is averaging right now? I think it's time we all admit --father time has caught up with the King. That's not a slight on him --that's not a slight on anybody! But gosh darn it, we say one bad thing about the guy and his people come to his defense!"

"Father time or injuries, Stephen A.? I mean he's been out most of the year. It's hard to get your rythmn back when you're not playing every night. He looked damn good out there that night; are you saying he didn't?"

"Did I say that?" Stephen A. widened his eyes and made a far too dramatic expression. "I didn't say he didn't play well. All I'm saying is, it's over for LeBron James. It's over for the Los Angeles Lakers. He's too old, he's not the King we used to know anymore, and he's not going to win it this year. He's not going to win anything this year. His window has officially closed --the Golden State Warriors, oooh let me tell you right now, the LAKERS DO NOT WANT TO SEE STEPHEN CURRY COME PLAYOFF TIME. THEY DO NOT WANT TO SEE HIM."

"Stephen A..."

"WE"RE TALKING ABOUT THE GREATEST SHOOTER IN THE **HISTORY** OF THE GAME. THE WARRIORS ARE 16-2 AND STEPHEN CURRY HAS NOT MISSED A BEAT. IF KLAY THOMPSON COMES BACK, THEY'RE GOING TO THE FINALS THIS YEAR AND BEATING PHEONIX IN NO LESS THAN 6 GAMES. AND THEY'RE WINNING THE WHOLE THING."

"Big words from Stephen A," Molly said, cueing the next topic.

We then cut to a viewer all the way across the county in California, Beverly Hills, they're watching the televesion broadcast on a newest addition Apple Smart TV. The residents of the household seemed to be wealthy a complete contrast to the living conditions of Sasaki as seen before. Their residence was a three story large mansion, with a large backyard garden and swimming pool accompanied by it, the halls had many corridors and room, and the garage and outside parking lot was filled to the brim with luxurious vehicles. Truly the type of people who like to showcase their life of exclutivity and indulge in materialistic things.

The man lounging on the coach was completely enticed and focused on the ESPN broadcast with Sasaki, Stephen A. Smith and Molly Qerim that he absolutely disregarded the fact that his girlfriend was laying right next to him. "Bruh. this dude Stephen A. talks in ALL CAPS." The man said pointing at the TV with his remote. "Bae, what do you find so interesting about this? This ain't even the real game, they're just talking 'bout it." The woman said with her eyes closed. looking like she's nearly about to fall asleep from boredom.

"Quit yo' yappin shawty, and just go record some music or sumn'" The dude says replying back to his romantic partner dismissing her and seeming to not be interested in engaging in conversation with the girl. The individuals in question clearly weren't your average middle or lower class citizen. And were in fact hollywood celeberties. The girl was the popstar singer, rapper, Instagram and Onlyfan model Aaliyah Emil. With the man being Jordan Barter more commonly known by his rapper alias and stage name **Lil Cartier**. The two have been a very close couple for a while now in the eyes of the public, as paparazzi and news reporter bombard them everyday following every second of their life the media have taken a liking to their relationship and they're viewed as a sort of power couple. But in reality, behind all the celebrity worship, gossip, and shipping the both of them have been thinking about breaking up due to some more personal issues that they haven't revealed to the wider world yet.

"You know what I'm sick and tired of your demeaning behavior, you're nothing more than a hoodrat who blew up from a one hit fluke." Aaliyah says angrily at Cartier as she throws off her blanket to the ground and storms off into her room. "You just mad I got other ho's that I'm fuckin with." Lil Cartier responds throwing up a middle finger at Aaliyah, while counting up his weekily earnings of cash from rapping which he refers to as "bands". "Man that bitch tripping for real for real." He then says as he puts down his stack of money and resumes watching the ESPN report.

The Houston Cougars had just finished day one of their tournament and had managed to advance on to the next round racking up a wopping 3-1 record in the East Coast Tournament that had been being held in New York at the time. Only the top teams from each region were allowed to play and the Cougars had been killing their season this year. They'd gathered quite a few promising talents over the past few years and their season had been better than it was in the last twenty years.

On the bus ride back to the hotel, Michael Davis was accompanied by the presence of the basketball trainer. She had been watching the episode of ESPN that featured Stephen A, Molly, and Sasaki. She held the phone up and practically tried to stuff it into Michael's face before he kindly pushed it aside.

"I ain't interested in that Dianna, I'm just tryna' worry about what we have tomorrow, to be honest." Michael said, leaning against the wall, utilizing his smartphone to scroll down his Instagram feed. Michael was never the type to get deep into NBA analytics because he had yet to reach that level. Sure, he had his own opinion on who was better than who, but at the end of the day he looked at them all as his own rivals and had vowed he'd be better than all of them. He wanted to be one of the greats. One of the ones who was being talked about in conversations just like the one between Sasaki and Stephen A. Smith.

Dianna rolled her eyes and exited the ESPN app before going to the internet broweser and showing the NBA's current standings. "I mean, if he keeps going like this, Steph will without a doubt make it to the playoffs. Then, Klay comes back? Yeah, I'm betting everything on that statement."

Finally, Michael broke through. "A'ight, if we being honest. Curry is the Lebron of this season, let's be real right now." He and Dianna both chuckled before he recieved a text message to his phone.

The trainer recieved the exact same messages and they both looked up at each other. "You guys play UCLA tomorrow. I didn't think there'd be a powerhouse this early into the tournament. But, I guess it's better for the exposure. I'm sure there are gonna' be some professional coaches watching that game closely."

"I ain't worried about who it is. I'll play any and everybody as long as they put in front of us. Line 'em up, I'm tryna win this shit, I ain't backing down from no fuckin' team." Michael said back.

"I know, but you kinda little though, Mike. You gotta deal with Bernard and Campbell on the switches." Dianna stated, referring to the heigh difference Michael had when compared to the other two gaurds. "Might wanna start thinkin' about how you're gonna handle the ball."

He stopped scrolling along his phone for a moment. As much as he didn't want to admit it, all of Dianna words were true. "Yeah, Imma' check it out and see. It's gonna' be hard running that five out against 'em when they can just switch between both of their guards. I'll figure something out though, trust."

Sasaki knew what was coming next. He wasn't nervous as much as he was tense. Tense because he knew exactly what Stephen A. was going to have to say about their next topic but because of the parameter's regarding the show, deep down, he knew that he would always simply be treated here as a guest. Stephen A. had been running this show for the last decade. Hell, he practically ran all of ESPN. Sasaki was still just trying to gain a proper footing on the network and across the sports journalist world as a whole. He had an opportunity no one else currently did --in that he was being featured alongside the world's very best sports journalist. But this could all be short lived if he didn't watch himself.

Above all else, what Stephen A. hated the most was being shown up. He controlled this entire show; the topics that were discussed, when and what segments they rolled in, and most of all, who was allowed to share the stage with him. More recently, in the last few months, Stephen A.'s previous co-star, Max Kellerman, had been fired. Fans of the show speculated that it was because Max wasn't afraid of Stephen A. That he always went at him and hence made him look bad. Sasaki was the kind of guy who didn't know how to hold back when talking to others. He didn't mean to be disrespectful, of course, but he just cared deeply about getting his point across. That was who he was at his core. He was blunt. He enjoyed the feeling of zapping the competition and shocking them with his eccentric takes.

On this show, as far as it came to the topic of basketball, there were really only two topics worth discussing: LeBron and Curry. Everyone else was an afterthought. Sure, some fans argued that the MVP of this season was Durant, while others were still firmly on the bandwagon of last season's champion, Bucks. But as a whole most fans wanted to hear news about LeBron, most fans wanted to hear news about Curry. That's what brought in the views.

Stephen A., in Sasaki's eyes, for that reason was a sellout. He did whatever brought the views in. He didn't really have an opinion of his own; he sided with whatever people wanted to hear so that they would keep watching his damn show. Now Sasaki didn't want to ruin that flow. Stephen A. had put in a ton of work to cement his place in the entertainment industry. But Sasaki *did* want to get his own points across the board. And he wasn't going to let dirty looks from Stephen A. keep him from speaking his mind.

On this network, it felt like Sasaki was the only one who cared about defending LeBron. The aging superstar was now in his 19th season. And at 37 years of age, he was the third oldest player in the league. Carmelo Anthony, LeBron's good friend and teammate, was the second oldest player. It went without saying that the Lakers were not only the oldest team in the league but also the oldest team in the history of the NBA. Last night, the Lakers had lost in a thrilling triple overtime game against the Sacramento Kings. It was not at all a good look for the Lakers, who once again fell below .500 with a record of 10-11. After such a terrible start to the season, despite stellar play from its three best players, many had already given up on the team. Stephen A. was at the top of the list.

"10-11? That's the best he can do?" Stephen A. said, staring dead into the camera. His exaggerated facial expressions were definitely going to be used in the thumbnails of the video highlights when they were uploaded onto YouTube after the show. "The reality of the matter is that LeBRON JAMES, THE KING, IS NOW TOO OLD TO CARRY A TEAM ON HIS SHOULDERS. THE REALITY IS THAT THE LAKERS DO NOT PLAY ANY TYPE OF DEFENSE WHATSOEVER, AND LeBRON SHOOTING 2 OF 13 FROM BEHIND THE ARC IS NOT HELPING THEM. WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOUR TEAM, SASAKI?"

Sasaki took in a calm breath. He'd faced many terrible horrors in his more than two centuries of living. Yet he could not deny that with all the cameras in his face and Stephen A. Smith blaring down at him that he didn't feel the heat. His entire career depended on how this next debate went. The outcome was going to dictate whether the audiance would continue to give him views --allowing him to return to the show-- or if this was simply as far as he'd go. Debating sports was all Sasaki had. Though he was a handy man --able to fix cars and technological devices in a jiffy-- they didn't make a stable living. Most of all they didn't excite him the way it did to be on television and discuss something he was truly passionate about.

"Stephen A." Sasaki breathed out at last. "The Lakers are still trying to figure out who they want to be. It's still early into the season-"

"EARLY INTO THE SEASON? EARLY INTO THE SEASON? THE LAKERS HAVE PLAYED MORE THAN TWENTY GAMES UP TO THIS POINT."

"Okay, but how many of those games has LeBron played in?" Sasaki beamed back. Utter silence from Stephen A. "You're quick to criticize them, Stephen A., but pinning the blame on LeBron is far from the truth and you know that. LeBron has been hurt all year. He's just gotten back now, a few games ago, and then that whole mess happened with the suspension. He had to play 50 minutes last night a day after Thanksgiving? Of course he's going to be off his best. Honestly speaking I didn't expect him to shoot the rock well at all. But you know what I did expect? A better showing from AD."

"Oh stop it."

"No, I'm serious. I mean you go back and you look at the tape, Stephen A., what has AD been doing for the Lakers this year? They're terrible on defense. They rank 29th in defensive rating overall as a team. That's crazy. That's crazy. The year before last, they were the best defensive team in the NBA. I get it, a lot of that has to do with a change in their roster. But they still have AD. They still have Dwight. They still have Avery Bradley --who by the way shouldn't have even made the roster in the first place. He wa a last minute addition to the team and he has brought them absolutely nothing."

After finally closing out a massive overtime win against the Pacers, this team was likely pretty hyped before their match against Sacramento… before of course, they proceeded to lose 141-137 in triple overtime. The Lakers are now a team that’s actually below .500, going 10-11 in their 21 games. Atrocious for a team thought to be contenders prior to the season. A large part of this has been their terrible defensive effort. Or maybe, ‘terrible’ isn’t quite the right term. After all, sometimes it feels like the whole team is taking a walk in a garden on that end, while the other team proceeds to dunk on them.

The screen is split down the middle as Sasaki and Stephen A. are joined by another journalist from another city. Kendrick Perkins. Perkins was a former teammate of LeBron James. He was best known for having been part of the Celtics 2008 championship team. Now he had established himself as one of the biggest names in the journalist field. "I’m convinced that the Lakers just don’t get it! Great win for the Kings and a Horrible lost for the Lakers... at this rate the Lakers will be in the Play-In Tournament! Carry the hell on..." said Kendrick Perkins. Much like Stephen A., Perkins knew exactly what side to take. When the going got tough for LeBron, Perkins became a critic. Unlike Sasaki who stayed on LeBron's side of the argument through thick and thin.

Another cutaway featured highlights from the previous game. LeBron was shown missing three point shots while Russell Westbrook, the Lakers' new starting pointguard, was shown turning over the ball multiple times. The media knew just how to make the Lakers look bad on national television.

"The Los Angeles Lakers blew another double-digit lead to a lottery team (at home) on Friday night. This time, it was to the 8-12 Sacramento Kings at three overtimes. What a hoot!" Stephen A. summarized for the audiance as he saw that their viewership had suddenly increased in the last hour. More and more people had woken up and were getting ready for the day. That was when it was time for them to flip on the television and give a listen to ESPN first take. "Coming off the Lakers’ rally post-LeBron ejection in Detroit and solid showing vs. the Pacers, the Lakers were undoubtedly ready to get the ball rolling. Welp, not tonight. The Lakers fell to the Kings, 141-137."

LeBron James had 30 points, 11 assists, and seven rebounds in the team’s return from a five-game East Coast road swing. Anthony Davis put up 23 points on 9-of-22 shooting but settled for far too many jumpers. He added eight rebounds, four assists, three steals, and four blocks. Westbrook finished with 29 points, 11 rebounds, and 10 assists. Afterward, Davis, LeBron, and Vogel openly voiced their frustration after yet another discouraging loss.

Another cutaway showing the post game press conference by the Lakers, including comments from the team's head coach, Frank Vogel. But first was the team's definitive best player, LeBron James. “Listen, we’re all disgusted at the losses,” LeBron said. “That’s the way it is. You also have to say even-keeled and have to understand that we can get better from our loss and get better from our wins. We know we got a lot more room to improve.”

Westbrook shared his own perspective. “Get some rest. Get ready for Sunday,” he said when asked how the Lakers rebound from this L. “The game is over. Regardless of how many minutes we’ve played, we’ve got to get our bodies ready for Sunday. Yeah I don’t think it’s dramatic for us internally,” Westbrook added about the ups and downs of a long season. “We got a sense of urgency, but we also understand adversity and we understand bumps in the road... Don’t panic, stick with each other.” Easier said than done, evidently. Anytime the Lakers seem to establish momentum, they seem to respond with an underwhelming performance. The Lakers will face the Pistons on Sunday then head back to Sacramento on November 30th.

The cameras flipped off and just like that the show was over. Stephen A. was going to stay on, of course. He had other sports and topics to discuss. But Sasaki was strictly brought on to talk basketball. Now he would have to return home to his apartment and find something else to do for the rest of the day. "Nice work today, Stephen A." Sasaki said, offering out his hand to his co-host. Stephen A. turned away from him, acting like he was too busy to give him any attention. Sasaki knew how it went. He wasn't a big enough name yet to warrant respect from a guy like that. He nodded his head and shoved his hand back into his pockets and carried on with the rest of the day.

"Great show," some of the camera men told Sasaki as he walked by them. Sasaki didn't know how to feel about this one just yet. He thought he'd done a good job himself but it always left him feeling uneasy. Working with a personality like Stephen A. wasn't easy to do. He didn't exactly make it any easier on the rest of his staff.

Lil Cartier stared at the TV with his red eyes from rolling up one too many blunts. "Fuck were they even talking about." He says barely making out the words, he was high right now and wasn't able to comprehend anything going around him. "Man." He uttered while coughing heavily and holding onto his chest. "Ian rolled me a backwood in some time, keeping up with celebrity appearances really ain't all that sweet not gon' lie" Cartier then sluggishly walked back into his and Aaliyah's room falling on top of the bed, falling to sleep immedietaly as he meets the comfort and warmth of the matress with it's blankets and pillows.

"Homie, always sleep." Aaliyah says smacking her lips as she just got out of the shower with her cap still on and her wearing nothing more than a towel. "I'ma just dip for tonight, I think he needs his rest." She then walks into their A-list wardrobe closet filled with multitude of clothings coming from luxurious and well-famed brands. Gucci, Prada, Fendi, all the designer you could think of was packed into this singular space.

Aaliyah quickly shut the door of the closet room that was large enough to fit a whole apartment space and got to changing. She wore a pair of Prada sunshades, a patterned Louis Vuitton and supreme collab jacket, coupled with a LV belt, with a pretty basic-looking pair of jeans being the most modest aspect of her outfit. She then proceeds to sit down on a chair and puts on her scarlet-red high heels. After all that dressing she walks out of the closet and makes a call to her hair stylist and makeup designer demanding that they come over in preparation for her upcoming fashion shoot and interview at the night. "Hello, I need y'all to come here ASAP to fix me up for tonight." Aaliyah says in her customary fake commercialized voice.

The recipients of the call wasted no time in arriving at her estate, showing how much of a valued customer that Aaliyah was to them. As soon as they rang the doorbell, Aaliyah rushed to open the door and great them. "Hey baddies!!, how y'all doin?" she says excitingly, making it seem like they have formed quite a close bond together as friend even though they are nothing more than client and employee. Trying to keep up the same energy or facade as Aaliyah, they respond to her with a friendly attitude as well waving. "Hey gal, how you been?"

"Good good, you already know I ain't struggling." Aaliyah says laughing as she invites them into her premises "Let's go over here." She exclaims pointing to their gigantic living room, as to distract them from looking at the rest of her mansion's belongings. "Dam, she filthy rich as fuck." One of the commissioned artists said to the other whispering. "Duh, exactly why we're lucky to land a deal with her being her private workers, even though I've been here many times though I still can't get past the fact how lavish they be living." The other says replying back.

Aaliyah then takes a seat on the carpet while the other two take a seat on the chairs doing their business. The makeup artist starts putting powder and polishes her face up a bit, while the hair stylist starts combing her hair and cutting off the undesired parts. Afterwards for some while there was unsettling silence between the three as they had nothing to talk about or share. Aaliyah then halts this about 20 minutes silence with her finally letting out some words "Should I start a IG Live?" She says looking back at them "You do you queen." The hair stylist responds giggling. "Alright." Aaliyah then went on Instagram and hosted a livestream with thousands of people and fans clicking join as soon as she starts the live.

"What's poppin, baddiesquad" Aaliyah says waving to her camera and snapping her fingers, the chat of the stream already excited seemingly for her doing nothing with hundreds of spammers sending messages and texts of love and stanning her. Aaliyah made sure to add on filters as they're doing her makeup, so her fans don't realize or see any imperfections on her face whatsoever.

More and more minutes pass by of absolutely nothing but her trying to extend her time on the live, and please her fans as much as possible. The fans didn't care much about the mediocre quality of the conversation she was having and were just completely satisfied with whatever mundane thing she decides to do, even if it's just breathing. Even this type of celebrity status and worship has its downsides though.

After ending the stream abruptly leaving her fans without anything of substance, she's almost done getting prepped up and is ready to go, as beautiful as the sun setting, you can tell her stylists and designers took plenty of time making her up to be someone that's absolutely out of this world and was mesmerizing to look at. Aaliyah then gave her assistants their usual paycheck of about 30,000 dollars. Being able to throw that much money away without having a second thought.

As she hopped into the limousine escorting her to Los Angeles, to attend her fashion shoot for Vogue magazine and be interviewed the drivers of the limo were surprised that Aaliyah was the person they were going to be transporting as they weren't told it was her and they were sweating profusely, trying to maintain as calm as possible, and make the ride quick and enjoyable.

"Oh... so uhhh... you're the famous Hollywood star Aaliyah Emil right?" The driver said trying to spark up some conversation with her. Aaliyah then nodded to the man, looking like she's trying to avoid some talk right now as she's on her phone texting. The persistent man simply ignored her disregard though, continuing to talk to her knowing this might be his biggest chance in his life to receive some recognition by others from being associated with her. "How does it feel like to be such a big name in the world though, must be nice huh?." He says chuckling a bit to look charming.

"It's not like the media makes it out to be at all. Sometimes I just think to myself was it all really worth it." Aaliyah says responding to his questions, with an answer that seems more personal and melancholy than the driver would've expected. He then quits attempting to strike some small talk and just drives off normally until they reach their destination.

Right the moment as Aaliyah set foot off the limo, it's almost as if all of the hundreds of cameras were waiting in line trying to get a snap of her. The paparazzi shrouded her with dozens of comments and answers, that she could barely keep up with all of them and just chose to ignore them and just waves instead to seem that she doesn't completely not care about them. She then walks into the building where they're going to be shooting the interview and photos for the magazine, it was exclusively kept for only individuals with permission to enter so none of the flashing lights were present inside and it wasn't as annoying.

Aaliyah saw the photographer and he greeted her kindly startled by the fact she arrived earlier for the shoot than anticipated. "Oh! Welcome Mrs. Emil, didn't think you were going to be here at this time." He says. "Nice to meet you sir, I came down in preparation and since I didn't have anywhere else to stop by I figured it'd be easier if I just went straight to the scene."

"Alright so you're all ready?" The photographer says as he's setting up he's camera equipment and tripod. "I was born ready." Aaliyah responds in a cocky and arrogant tone, trying to solidify her standing as a public influencer. "Alrighty, then let's head over here" The camera man says pointing to a wall with beautiful scenery of sculpted flowers onto it. "Say cheese." He says smiling.

"No need." Aaliyah says then positions herself on top of the cube placed in front of the wall and puts a peace sign up and forms a kiss with her lips to the camera. "Got it." The cameraman says, after a couple more shots and pictures that were perfectly angled by the professional photographer the pictures were ready to be posted on the internet online and put on Vogue magazine.

"Thanks a lot!" Aaliyah says walking off to the doors to exit the building while her high heels clank against the pearly white floor. "No problemo!" The cameraman said shouting back at her showing his gratitude. "As long as I get paid." He then said in a quieter tone laughing.

Aaliyah then shuts the door with her bodyguards waiting for her oustside, as soon as she left the cameras started focusing on her again blocking the view of her eyesight with just blinding light. Her bodyguards towering above everyone else with their hulking frames try to reduce the amount of pictures taken to the best of their ability, and handle some crazy fans that try to get close to Aaliyah or even get an autograph. She then arrives at the limo once again and the bodyguards assist with opening the doors for her.

She was now heading to Jimmy Kimmel's late night talk show for her interview to be broadcasted on TV. Although the public knows it as a live show, almost everyone affiliated and has work with Jimmy knows that the show is really all scripted and rehearsed to produce a desired reaction from the audience. Aaliyah already remembered the lines she was gonna say and how she'll respond to Jimmy's questions and political takes. Aaliyah at the moment had then thought to herself about the logistics of all of this. Is this really the type of thing she wanted to do to keep her career thriving. Is conforming to society's standards of beauty and the responsibilities that they have entrusted onto her due to being a celebrity all worth it. Was it just better to be another average bum that's unaware of the truth?

Like mentioned prior before earlier, the glamorous life of being a successful hollywood star while it does come with its perks, it also may break down some of its most talented and well known stars. Most people strive to gain fame, and be free from their shackles of being under control of their boss or other people, but once you reach that level you're put under a brand new set of shackles, the shackles that force you to please everyone around you since everybody's eyes are now on you, you must serve as a example for everyone else to live their life. This much stress weighing down on celebrities leads some to killing themselves, go crazy because of diminishing mental health, or other occurrences. Aaliyah could also agree to this sentiment, ever since becoming popular her life hasn't been the same, with her family that once tried to abandon her now depending and relying on her successes and riches, people putting overwhelming expectations on her, and her fans demanding more of her music and other endeavors.

After a bit of thought, Aaliyah realized all she could do at this point is suck it all up and try to put up her best front as to not disappoint herself and everyone else watching placing their hopes onto her. "Shit." she said facepalming trying to stop herself from crying and having a breakdown.

Once they arrived at the designated area of the Jimmy Kimmel show, Aaliyah walked outside of the vehicle with her bodyguards standing by her walking her all the way to the backstage and then staying there to stay behind. The show has been already airing with the audience present within the seats cheering and clapping as Aaliyah walks onto the stage with her sass ones as she flips her hair back and forth and Jimmy welcomed her with glee on his face. "Goodnes gracious, you're looking absolute fantastic today! How have you been lately Aaliyah?" He says.

"I'm doing quite well for myself." Aaliyah responds seating herself in the chair right across to him on a little round table. "May I pour you a cup of tea?" Jimmy says charmingly insisting on giving Aaliyah some tea. "Sure, I love me some tea not gonna lie." She responds back laughing as the crowd laughs back for such a mundane and simple thing, which was all apart of their scripts.

"So Aaliyah, what's your thoughts on the current state of the female rap scene? How do you feel about your main competitors Cardi B, and Meghan and out of anyone artists who would you want to collaborate with?" He says crossing his arms and laying one leg on top of the other. Aaliyah seated in a reserved position with her hands together then starts talking about her views, "I believe that the bar for female rap has just been set so low these past few years if you know what I'm sayin, like no disrespect to Cardi and Meghan I think they've done a great job of gaining their own massive fan base' and having tons of fans. But I think the one really carrying modern female rap is Doja Cat. Shoutout to my girl!" Aaliyah says pointing at the camera "Anyways, if I had to choose somebody I'd like to make a song with it'd have to be Nicki Minaj or Beyoncè, y'kno like they're just absolutely queen in their own rights.." She says continuing rambling on trying to elongate the length time of the show as much as possible so they can gain more revenue.

Afterwards, Jimmy Kimmel kept on riddling her with questions about Politics, Current global news, etc. Aaliyah just responded with everything she memorized within the script, with this conversation feeling as natural as robot A.I trying to live like a human. Aaliyah then notices something strange in the crowd, a man that had glowing glasses illuminating a purpilish red hue from his eyes and then looked at her taking off his shades and revealing his eyes and his true face. He was wearing a weird mask and had horns and was a overall devilish looking creature, but it seemed like nobody else around him could see or even perceive his presence. To Shinigami and other spiritually aware species it'd be obvious that this being was a Hollow, but Aaliyah had never knew the proper term for them and referred to them as "ghosts" as since a little child she's been seeing them, but never tells anyone about them as to not make her seem like a deranged lunatic.

## Once in a Blue Moon

*Manhattan, New York. A city of crime built on the backs of immigrants and the dream that anything could be done if only one were to put their mind to it. On this particular night however, an immigrant from somewhere ypu couldn't find on a normal map was visiting the core of The Big Apple. This particular traveler came from the dry, destitute deserts of the horrific hollowed world of Hueco Mundo. Stepping through and closing the void left by* **Garganta***, the staggeringly tall figure of Sceloporus gazes at what was soon to be a beating heart of a long-dead empire if his machinations were to come to fruition. On top of a sky-scraper, the hollow watches as the blurring lights of modern civilization begin to twinkle out as the iron horses become less frequent as night falls on New York.*

The life of a mortal. What did it entail? This was a prominent question which Sasaki often pondered when he had first set foot into the world of the living as its newest inhabitant. Having been born and raised in Soul Society, the ways of the humans were something that he was not at all accustommed to. However with time --decades upon decades of years, to be exact-- he had come to become something of a human himself. Or at least, human-esque.

He enjoyed the long walks home from work. Rather than blitz around the city like a Shinigami, there was something sincere, something genuine about embracing the human way of life. That was up until the supernatural came along at which point, *once in a blue moon*, Sasaki got to relive his past life and take to becoming the Shinigami he'd once been.

It didn't take long for a spiritually aware entity such as Sasaki to feel the pressure that was being exerted by the mere existence of the Adjuchas alone. He froze in place, hands in his pockets as he had taken to the sidewalk, and looked up at the towers of Manhattan to see a rather large Hollow roosting on one of the skyscrapers. The Hollow had yet to take any sort of action, but if his past experiences were any precedent, then Sasaki knew all too well than to let a Hollow reside in peace. Especially one that had come willingly to the human world of its own volition.

In a quick flash, Sasaki was standing on a rooftop opposite the Hollow. He scratched the back of his head as he studied its large size. "Hey there, buddy. What brings you to my place of town? You know there's a substitute soul reaper who visits these parts quite often. If I didn't know any better I'd assume you were looking for some trouble." *Please say yes.*

*From his perch Sceloporus had been taking in the hustle and bustle of the city, when the tell-tale pressure of a nearby Shinigami alerted him to a visitor. In a flash, the visitor revealed himself, being a blue-haired Shinigami who stood across from him on an opposing rooftop.*

*Noticing that the Shinigami had yet to draw their blade and had given up the opportunity for a sneak attack, Sceloporus tilts his head slightly, gazing at the Shinigami in a mild confusion that was not portrayed from behind his mask.* "Hail, reaper of forgotten souls. Mine journey to that which you guard is for a cause that hath not concern you or your ilk. Less thee are one who will halt the advance of Roma?" *The Hollow's voice sounding like the barely restrained roar of metal on metal as the noise would penetrate the mind of a Shinigami like a terrible earworm. The subtle hint at the end of the Hollow's statement making it clear as ice that the Shinigami would find himself in a fight if Sceloporus sees him as an obstacle in his path.*

"Oh?" Sasaki was taken aback by the Hollow's most curious nature. It wasn't everyday --or even every month-- that one encountered a Hollow as observant as this one. To trace Sasaki to a Shinigami despite the absence of a Zanpakuto and Shihakusho was extremely *telling*. Only a Hollow with a great deal of experience could reach such an ample conclusion. "And what makes you think I'm a Shinigami?" he wondered aloud.

Sasaki smirked. He was happy to learn that this Hollow had an agenda of its own. As for Sasaki himself, he was deeply missing the days he'd swing around a sword for a living. Admittedly it had been a significant amount of time since he had even been referred to as a Shinigami. It felt... good. "Yeah. You can bet your money that I'll be stopping you *right here*. But make no mistake, Hollow. This has nothing to do with having a duty to fulfill. I could care less what the Gotei 13 is up to."

As he spoke, Sasaki lifted up his left hand, aiming it at the massive Hollow. "No. I'm confronting you simply because seeing you has made me feel nostalgic about the past. I want to remember what it feels like to be a Shinigami again!" Yellow light emitted out from Sasaki's palm, materializing into a long, yellow rope of light. Sasaki clenched his palm shut and at his command the rope snaked forward quickly, seeking to wrap around the Hollow and ensare him into a tight hold which physical strength alone would not be enough to overcome. "Bakudō #63. Sajō Sabaku!"

"Reapers of phantoms have but a common demeanor about themselves, and those who are mortal rarely manifest themselves in an instant such as the one who stands before me does."  *Answering the question of the blue-haired Shibigami whose presence was starting to grate on Sceloporus' nerves as the man had a small aura of smugness about him.*

*As the man spoke, Sceloporus notices that the man had raised his left hand and had begun pointing it at him, which was followed by the shutting of his grasp and the declaration of the Bakudō and its number. Having encountered many Shinigami in his strangely long second life, he had seen plenty of Kidō techniques and Bakudō #63 was not an exception with it being a spell that had a rather glaring flaw. That being that it did not stop someone from destroying it with something that wasn't brute physical strength.*

*Pulling up his spear arm, he braces it against his shield and points it at the oncoming vipers of yellow light created by the blue-haired reaper. The tip of the protrusion begins to glow the standard red of a preparing* **Cero** *that any well-seasoned Shinigami would have witnessed countless times before. Just before the Bakudō reached him however, a thin beam of red light erupting from the protrusion, effortlessly crashing through the twin binding lights as they hadn't been at their maximum effectiveness duw to lacking an incantation. The beam continued onwards unhampered towards the blue-haired Shinigami, which if it connected would tear through abd leave a clean hole in the man about the size of a 9mm bullet.*

The use of a Cero was always a cause for alarm. Only Hollows of the Menos Grande variety were capable of using such a powerful technique. Not that Sasaki was one to judge a person --or entity-- based on its looks, he hadn't been able to deduce the Hollow's ranking based on that alone. "...!"

Not only was his Kido countered but the Hollow had turned his defense into an offense all the same. For an instant it looked as though Sasaki would be consumed by the Cero, only for him to unveil a suprise of his own. His hand went in front of his face and he ripped downwards with his fingers. In an instant a white mask with blueish streaks formed in front of his face. And along with it came a blue orb that quickly began to form along the teeth of the mask, growing larger and brighter by the second.

Sasaki fired a Cero of his own to counter the Cero of the Adjuchas, with his being blue in color. The two Cero collidied in the air and the result was a stalemate, two opposing forces neutralizing one another after giving rise to a noticeable explosion. Smoke covered the sky for but a moment, and when it cleared Sceloporus would be able to see for himself the mask which Sasaki had dawned in that instant to counter his attack.

Sasaki sported the mask for only a few more seconds thereafter, long enough to speak through it. His voice appeared incredibly muffled; a two toned voice, resembling Sceloporus' own. "You're not the only one around here capable of using a Cero." Just as soon as it had formed, Sasaki's mask disappeared as he recalled its power. Evidently, Sasaki was far from the average Shinigami.

He landed back on the roof top and clapped his hands together. As he separated them slowly, a blue cube spawned between them, in which his Zanpakuto was encased. The blue light vanished, leaving Sasaki free to retrieve his weapon. "I'm going to have fun playing with you. But before that, care to introduce yourself?"

Sasaki unsheathed his Zanpakuto, holding the sheath in his back hand. He tested the sword out with some false swings in the air. "I am Sasaki *Kuchiki*."

*After the dust had settled from the clashing Cero, Sceloporus gazed onwards in mild shock seeing that the Shinigami had donned the mask of a Hollow, clearly having gone through the nigh-mythical process of Hollowification. Watching as the man summoned a glimmering cube and pulled out what could only be assumed to be the man's Zanpakutō, Sceloporus raises his shield arm, and enters a defensive stance that could easily be mirrored from someone who was a well-trained soldier from the medieval era or earlier.*

*Still pointing his spear arm at the man, the hollow lets out a deep guttural laugh that sounds like steel being thrown into a heavy duty blender.* "I must say spirit reaper, that one as curious and polite as you has left us rather amused, but thou shall receive thine answer, I swear it as a soldier of Roma. "  *Going quiet as he lets the Shinigami in front of him finish his statement.*  I am he who is known as Sceloporus, he who has held the esteemed position of primus pilus and was a member of the mighty Roma. Prepare thineself oh Sasaki Kuchiki, for you are but ten centuries to early to face me in combat on the battlefield."  *Sceloporus concludes, waiting for the Shinigami to strike first as to truly begin their match.*

Sasaki grinned. "I don't care what you are..." He raced forward, kicking off the air behind him. His entire body reeled forth at top speed. "As long as you can keep me entertained!!!" Sasaki threw the sheath of his sword forward first, hoping to distract the Hollow and take him thereafter by surprise. Sasaki was a masterful swordsman; when he appeared before the Hollow he greeted him with a diagonal swipe from top to bottom. Then he dropped his sword in midair and caught it in his other hand, and immediately swiped horizontally to cleave the beast.

*On his guard for tricks and surprises due to the revelation of facing a Shinigami who was a visored, Sceloporus hunkers down behind his shield-like protrusion, letting the thrown scabard richochet off the natural guard. Keeping his guard raised, Sasaki's first strike slices along the shield creating a fine line diagnally across it, but just as the swipe finished the damage along the arm re-knit itself as if time was being wound in reverse on that spot. Thrusting out his spear in an attempt to catch the Shinigami, the secondary cleave caught the well-worn Hollow by surprise after having dropped his guard to go on the offense momentarily. The cleave strikes true, hitting the beast in its torso, but failing to slice through the body due to it getting stuck a third of the way through the body. Leering down at the Kuchiki as he would find his blade starting to get stuck as the wound caused by the blade would start to rapidly close, beginning to trap it.*

Sasaki made no attempt to retreat. He could feel the Hollow's innards closing in on his Zanpakuto. His response was simple; he kept only a single hand holding his sword while the other moved back up to his face. He eyed Sceloporus deep down into his own soul and ripped down with his hand, bringing forth his Hollow mask once more.

"Hadō #78," he began to chant, as Kido began to glow from the blade of his weapon. As Sceloporus had closed himself in on Sasaki's weapon, this spell, further empowered by his Hollow mask, was going to blast all up in his insides. "Zangerin!" Sasaki swiped through with his Zanpakuto. With his newfound strength along with Zangerin, it would let him cut through any part of the Hollow like butter. He intended to bissect the Hollow and then detonate him from the inside, sending him flying off of the rooftop.

*A minor sense of panic slightly overtakes the Hollow as instead of watching the Shinigami panic as their blade gets caught as he had watched many times before. Glaring downwards as the embedded blade begins to glow with the beginning infusement of the Kido, he returns the soul-piercing gaze that the Shinigami had given him.*

*With the release of the name of the Hadō, the technique slices through the Hollow like a laser through metal, cleanly going through the hollow, seperating the flesh that the blade passed through with an immense ease. After a clean seperation from the legs, the rest of the intended effect of the attack takes hold, violently detonating in the midnight manhattan air as the upper half of Sceloporus is sent flying over the rooftop. A loud **thud** is heard a moment later follow by a loud string of words that would sound like gibberish to Sasaki.*

Sasaki walked across the rooftops in a calm manner, sword in hand. The blood of Sceloporus stained his sword. He kept his distance from the Hollow, pausing as he stood at the end of one roof, from which he could oversee where the Hollow now lay. He watched the Hollow with his eyes.

How shortlived. Perhaps he had overdone it by resorting to his mask. At once he tore the mask apart, showing the night sky the face of Sasaki Kuchiki once more. He gripped his sword tightly. *It's been a long time. But every time we meet, it feels just like old times. Doesn't it, Arashi?*

Arashi was the name of Sasaki's Zanpakuto. How many years had it been since he'd heard it speak? How many decades had it been since he performed Jinzen? Too many to count. Sasaki missed those times. He wished they would come back to him. "Hollow. Before you go, let me tell you a little something about my Zanpakuto."

Sasaki lifted Arashi up into the air. "My Zanpakuto is a lightning-type. But it doesn't produce lightning. Kind of weird, right? I once thought so too. Those around me used to tease me because of it. To them my ability was a waste of existence. They doubted whether or not it could even be used in battle. But you know what I came to know? A Zanpakuto is only as good as the Shinigami who wields it."

Sasaki aimed his Zanpakuto towards the defeated sight of the Hollow. Immediately the weather began to change dramatically. Storm clouds formed overhead. "My Zanpakuto cannot directly create lightning. But..." The clouds grew thicker, darker. "It can summon it. Wherever I point my blade I can force a lightning bolt to instantly project. Would you like to see?"

A cold gaze. Sasaki pointed the tip of Arashi at the Hollow's location. "Descend, Arashi." In its Shikai state, the Zanpakuto did not change physically. However, faster than fast, quicker than the blink of an eye, a single lightning bolt shot down from the clouds above, perfectly capturing Sceloporus' location. The lightning bolt's greatest strength was in its blinding speed, but it was also extremely powerful when it hit its mark. Seeing as how the Hollow was barely able to move, this lightning bolt would not only hit its mark but likely finish him off.

"Goodbye, soldier of Roma."

*Lying on the ground, bleeding slowly as even his advanced regeneration wouldn't be able to halt the bleeding that quickly from such a large wound, Sceloporus gazes at the Visored Sasaki as he explains his Zanpakuto. Turning his head skywards as a miniature storm begins to brew and the scent of ozone begins to weigh heavy in the air, he lets out a soft chuckle right before the Arashi's lightning strikes.*

"It appears Jupiter's favour in no longer with us..."

*And with a flash and boom of lightning and thunder, the ancient solider of the fallen empire was transformed from a once mighty Hollow into naught but ash in the wind with the sheer force and heat caused by Sasaki's almost demi-godlike lightning strike from his Zanpakuto's ability.*

“Oh, well, well, well,” the husky of a woman sounded behind Sasaki. The woman continued, “Late for the action, am I? Looks like I missed a ton of fun.”

The woman walked towards Sasaki, “Call me Sakata. You can obviously see me and probably know exactly what is going on. I want you to fill me in on two details, please. One, do you, seeing these black robes of mine, already know what I am. Two, are *you* the person I am looking for? Three, what is going on?”

Sakata took a moment to take a large puff from her cigar. Clearly, she was not elaborate enough. Clearly, there was a reason why morons of the Soul Society called her the "Puzzling Princess". She spoke again, “One. Do you anything about Soul Society or do I have to give you a ‘I am a Shinigami, and yes, that is a real thing’speech?”

She edged closer to Sasaki and spoke once again, “I am on a mission to investigate something and a Hollowfied man with a Zanpakutō could be exactly what I am looking for. So, are you what I am looking for?”

She edged even closer, and spoke yet once more, “Three. What is going on? That one is pretty self-explanatory.”

Sasaki hadn't sensed her coming. Nevertheless he turned to Sakata as she unveiled herself to him, rather nonchalantly at that. He looked her over, from head to toe. Eyes scanning her frame for a mere moment. Of course he knew what she was already. But he didn't know the details behind her personale.

"For your sake, I'd hope I'm not the guy you're looking for." A part of him truly hoped he was the man she was looking for, as that would allow him to prolong his role as a Shinigami. "Are you the Shinigami that was assigned to this city? No, that can't be. I haven't sensed your spiritual power ever before. A substitute, perhaps?" Sakata wasn't the only one with questions to ask.

"Well, if you'd like to know, a Hollow --a rather powerful one at that-- appeared here in Manhattan. I thought I'd have myself a little fun and well... you see the results." He turned to her fully now, flicking his sword around in the air in front of himself to clean the blood off of it. "I don't need you to tell me what you're doing here. Look, I'll make this really simple for you. The Gotei 13 has been searching for me for a very, very long time. Which means the choice is yours to make. Would you like to be my friend? Or..."

Sasaki pointed his Zanpakuto at Sakata. The storm clouds remained ready above, should she decide otherwise. "Would you like to be my enemy?"

“Alright,” Sakata spoke, “hotshot. I think you just glossed over something I think is very important. Manhattan, you said? That… is that a city in India? Because I was pretty sure I was headed to India. If you tell me otherwise, I …will have to believe you I guess, but I will be severely disappointed.”

Seeing as how his metallic voice was unable to scare her, Sasaki recalled his mask with a simple gesture of his hand. Standing before Sakata was now the exiled member of the Kuchiki clan. With that, Sasaki sheathed his Zanpakuto and held the sealed weapon in his hand, crossing his arms across his chest. "India? No. This is not India. This is America. Manhattan, New York. You're on the wrong side of the world, Mr." Sasaki paused. "Mr...." he gave Sakata the chance to fill in the blank with her own name.

"If you're looking to get to India then you're going to have to go back around to wherever the hell you came from. Because this is definitely not India. And here I was, hoping you'd have a Shikai to show me at the very least. You Shinigami are less aggressive than what I remember."

“Miss, that is,” spoke Sakata, “Miss, not Mister, and I am not at liberty to tell you my name, but like I just you, you can call me Sakata. Also, yes, I know I do not have a very flattering figure, but you can clearly see and hear that I am a woman, you dummy. Speaking of you, you have just the least flattering aftershadow. I do not even need daylight to see that.”

Sakata took a moment to register the rest of Sasaki's words. “New York, America, eh?! Well, oopsie daisy, I muffed it up again! Whoops! W-H-O-O-P-S-I-E! Sorry about that, my sanity is a bit shaken after a very recent incident with a Gillian-class Hollow and a Adjuchas-class Hollow. I am guessing you know what that means, given that you know of Gotei 13.”

Sakata took another puff of her cigar, “Oh, I need to get to India!”

"Ah, my apologies." Sasaki didn't know any better. The only women he was acquainted with were hookers. Normally they had so much plastic surgery done that by now they had ruined his perception of what an ordinary woman was supposed to look like. He shook his head. "Know of them? Honey, I was *in* the Gotei 13. You look fairly young. You weren't there when I was there so I think it's safe to assume that you're a recent recruit. I likely served in the Gotei 13 longer than you've even been alive. But that's not a story I'd like to delve into at this time."

Flashes of the past that riddeled his mind. He didn't need to remember that pain right now. "Anyway. If it's India you're trying to get to... then I guess I could be of some help to you. I wouldn't mind it either way. But just know one thing. I gotta be back in for work tomorrow. So I can't give you more than a couple of hours of my help."

Any logically minded person would have known that a flight to India all the way from New York was going to be a long journey. The entire process was going to take well over 24 hours. And yet this ex-Shinigami was talking all sorts of crazy; going on about how he planned to be back in for work the next morning. "Do you want to hitch a ride? I won't charge you or anything. But... in exchange, I expect to learn a little bit about the state of the Gotei 13, if you're willing to share."

“Oh, no need to apologize,” spoke Sakata, waving her hand weakly, “Also, what? Served in the Gotei 13 longer than I hve even been alive? I am over 400 years old. Yes, I know I look good for my age.

Sakata sighed, “See, that joke would have killed on any other Human world dweller.” Her voice got rougher and more bitter by each word. “This is what I get for indulging in humor and light-hearted pleasantries,” she spoke, smacking herself on the head. Then, she looked at Sasaki, trying her best to smile, but the result was something that certainly resembled a smile, but was not quite the thing.

Upon hearing Sasaki's offer, Sakata tried once again to smile, this time doing a much better job than before, but still not quite there yet.“I am willing to tell you …literally… everything I know about the Gotei 13.”

Then, her feeble attempt at a smile suddenly vanished, “On second thought, never mind. I know your type. The dangerous ones. Willing to get yourself and others in the clutches of death just for the kicks.” Sakata's analysis of another person was on point as usual. “I am sorry, but I need to stay alive. There are people counting on me. There is a threat at large and all I have sent is a response team, and by response team, I mean,” she raised a finger, “one man. I guess this is where we part ways.”

"Hey, whoa. Calm down for a second. Take it easy. I think you have the wrong impression of me, Sakata. Sure I may not be tied to the Gotei 13 anymore, but that doesn't exactly mean that I want nothing to do with them anymore. And that sure as heck doesn't mean that I wish bad for them, either. I don't hate them. Matter of fact, I have nothing against them. Even if they have cut off all contact with me for the last hundred or so years." Sasaki put his hands up as if in retreat. "You don't seem like a bad person. I don't plan on taking advantage of you like that. If anything I'd sincerely like to lend you a hand."

Sasaki missed his days as a Shinigami. If helping Sakata meant he could continue to act as one for another couple of hours then he'd take it in a heartbeat. The Hollow fight proved to be rather short lived. With that behind him now he needed another means to prolong his fun.

"The truth is I miss being a Shinigami. Besides, I think you need my help, too. You won't have a quicker way to reach India without me. Your only other option is to take a flight there. You think they're going to let you on a plane with that sword? Not to mention a one way flight to India is going to take anywhere between 20 to 30 hours at best."

Sakata said, “Look, hotshot — can I call you hotshot? No. Of course I cannot. Tell me your name. Anyway, I do not think you are a bad guy. I do not think you want to harm me. But you do seem like the guy who wants to look for trouble and pick fights. As for the fastest way, I can just open a Senkaimon.”

Sakata sighed, “Oh, come on. I know I am going to yield. Alright, I will go with you. But on the slightest point of trouble, Imma dip. I do not have the time, nor the inclination to get up in your mess. Now, tell me your name. Just ainwanyi. That is an Indian word.”

"You sound extremely paranoid. I don't know what you've been through in your life, but take it easy, yeah? I'm not here to hurt you, like I said earlier. I may be able to dawn the mask of a Hollow at will but at my core I am still a Shinigami. Well, an ex-Shinigami now. I hope what you witnessed earlier hasn't scared you so much that you'll be keeping your guard up this whole time."

To make it easier for the woman, Sasaki clapped his hands together, encasing his Zanpakuto in a blue light. The blue light formed the shape of a cube and then expanded further, until it was large enough for his sword to occupy. He sealed the sword away in this manner and the light eventually receded into the palms of his hand. The Zanpakuto was gone. Not only did Sasaki sheath it but he had stored it away so that he'd have nothing left on him.

"Call me whatever you like. I'm not one to shoot down others' ideas. Speak your mind. A conversation is a debate between two people where either party is free to express their thoughts. Remember that." This was the mindset of ESPN First Take's newest host. "Anyway. I think you're grossing overestimating how Senkaimon work. For starters, to even receive passage a single time is an incredible luxury. We of the Kuchiki clan had our very own Senkaimon, but that's because we were a noble family. For Shinigami like you --I don't see a white coat or a badge on your shoulder-- so I can only assume that you aren't of proper rank. Someone like you can't just freely open up a Senkaimon and travel between the two worlds as often as you'd like. I'm surprised they even granted you permission to come here in the first place."

It was true. There were very strict regulations around the usage of the Senkaimon. Soul Society and the Human World are parallel worlds. The Senkaimon is the gate used to travel between the two worlds, and is the only official and safe way to enter and leave Soul Society. Soul Society has only one permanent Senkaimon, which takes the form of a giant gate situated within a large courtyard atop a large tower. Travel through the Senkaimon is heavily regulated, and can only officially be opened by the members of the Kidō Corps.

"With that said, I happen to have a way for you to quickly get to India from here. It's a little bit of a secret. But since you seem to have trust issues, I'll let you in on it with a little hint." Sasaki rose up his index finger. "It has something to do with the Zanpakuto I just sealed away."

Sakata smirked, “Oh, you are a Kuchiki, eh? You know Kuchiki-zan? Her name is Kurome. Alright, Kuchiki, let us get me to India!”

"Kurome?" Sasaki's eyes lit up. That single name took him back. Way back. "Kurome," he said again, because the name felt so good coming out of his mouth. His eyes turned into crescents. He smiled genuinely, blushing faintly. His hand went behind his head and he laughed. He laughed for a good while, reminescing on all the good times he'd had being a member of one of Soul Society's most noble households. "Of course I know her. She's my cousin. It's been ages since I got to see her, though. She was so young back then. I'm sure she's forgotten all about me or thinks that I'm dead. But I don't blame her. She wouldn't know any better. It's forbidden to discuss my name in that place."

It had happened more than one hundred years ago. The ever curious Sasaki. All had been going well for the boy. He had a capable future ahead of him. He was a master of the sword, had come to perfect the art of Kido. But most of all what intrigued him was science. He loved to invent new things and conduct experiements of his own. On one occassion he went a little too far. He thought himself safe, conducting these projects in the confines of his home. But it was on the Kuchiki Clan to treasure the sacred laws of the Soul Society. And they could not pardon one of their own should they come to trifle with those laws.

No one could have discovered what he was up to aside from another Kuchiki. Sasaki was found out by another member of his clan when he was experimenting with Hollows --that was how he had come to bear the mask that he now possessed and had since come to master. It was a grave sin in Soul Society to do something like that. Not only was Sasaki exiled from his clan, but he was stripped of his position among the Gotei 13 entirely. Ever since then he had taken to the world of the living, looking for a new life. He was in search of something he could be passionate about --but it was hard to replace old passions. Especially when they were so... real.

Sasaki loved being a Shinigami. He loved serving the Gotei 13. He loved his family, he loved experimenting. But one mistake had cost him dearly and he'd been paying for it ever since. It was like for the rest of eternity he was going to have to live with that mistake that he had made.

"Kurome is my cousin. That's cool that you know her. Don't ask her about me, though. Sakata. I'll lend you a hand here in the Human World. But you have to promise me that you won't tell anyone that you encountered me here today. It took me a very long time to get the Gotei 13 off of my back. If they find out I'm still alive then I'll never see the end of it."

The last thing Sasaki wanted was for the Gotei 13 --with its dwindling numbers-- to find and send someone capable of matching him in combat after him. It would not help either side to enter a death match such as that. Nor did Sasaki want to involve someone like Sakata in his private affairs. The Gotei 13 should not learn of Sasaki's tenure in the world of the living. In order to maintain peace, it was up to Sakata to protect this secret.

"You may not be able to trust me so soon. But I'm asking for your trust, Sakata." He stepped towards the Shinigami woman. He squared his shoulders in line with hers. He looked her dead in the eye. "Sakata," he repeated. "Can I trust you with this secret?"

“You can trust me, Kuchiki, and I know now that I can trust you,” spoke Sakata ”Now, let us get me to bloody India!”

"Right." Sasaki smiled. He then clapped his hands together, bringing forth the blue light from before. In seconds his Zanpakuto reappeared before him and he released it from within the box. Taking hold of it by its handle, he then looked to Sakata. "Stand back. It's been a long time since I did this. Can't promise you won't be blown away by it if you're too close. Hang on tight, okay?"

An aura surrounded Sasaki. Blue reiatsu oozed and spiked, pouring out from every part of his body. His spiky blue hair shot up in the air as he lifted his Zanpakuto over his head. He clenched his teeth and puckered his face; with a narrowed brow and a serious tone, he exclaimed with all his might, "BAN... KAI!!!"

The clouds resounded overhead. A loud, endless clap of thunder radiated across the skies. Until suddenly a slight partation in the clouds gave way to Sasaki's Bankai. A massive blue dragon soared down from the skies above, molded by the reiatsu of Sasaki's Zanpakuto. The dragon descended from the heavens, beating its wings powerfully until it landed on the roof of the building just behind Sasaki.

"Bankai. *Arashimeru*." Said Sasaki once more, announcing the arrival of his greatest power. He offered out his hand to Sakata to show her that he meant no harm. "This is how I plan to get you from here to India in the blink of an eye. Arashimeru is far faster than any plane you could ever hope to find in this world. I can promise you that."

Sakata looked on, impressed. *I thought I would be more impressed, huh.* “Alright, here we go,” spoke Sakata as she took Sasaki's hand. “Kuchiki, are you sure I cannot persuade you to aid my mission?”

"Depends on what that is." He took hold of Sakata's hand firmly and invited her on board of his dragon. Arashimeru allowed both its wielder and Sakata to be seated safely on its back. Then with a powerful beat of its wing, it took to the skies.

At first, Sakata would realize that maintaining balance on top of this dragon as it was flying through the air was nearly impossible. Which brought into question; how was Sasaki managing to do so? "Sakata, here. Hold onto my Zanpakuto with me. As long as you keep a hand on it, you will be one with the dragon and not lose your balance."

The dragon soared through the air with brilliant speed --it was a *lightning* dragon after all. "Arashimeru is the Harbinger of Storms. It is the embodiment of lightning itself. I'm sure you can see now why it is so fast." Sasaki looked back at Sakata. "Now, about that mission of yours. We'll be reaching India sooner than you could believe. Care to fill me in on what it is you're looking for?"

Sakata spoke, “We have sensed a lot of Hollow activity in India. There is nothing unusual about the activity themselves, but just that every time we send a Shinigami to terminate these Hollows, they mysteriously disappear. It is almost as if these Hollows have some sort of protector. We have sent numerous Shinigami, to the 7th Seat. Not one could successfully report back. The only one who reported back was a lieutenant, and he had bad news. *Very* bad news.”

The dragon descends, being invisible to the Indians below as it lands in India. "I see... unfortunately if this is a mission that involves other Shinigami, I'm afraid I can't help out beyond this point. If they were to see me... well, it's like I mentioned before. I can't endanger myself after working this hard to create a new life. I hope you'll understand."

Once Sakata disembarked, Sasaki would offer her one last smile and an affirming nod. "This is where we part ways, Sakata. It's been great meeting you. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for." The dragon gave a strong beat of its wings and took off once again, into the skies like a bolt of lightning.

“What a nice guy,” mumbled Sakata, “I like the Kuchiki now, I decided. Now, where to Delhi?”

She called out, “Um?! Hello?! Kuchiki?! I think I should have been a bit more specific!” She sighed. *He cannot hear me, can he? He is long gone, ain't he?*

## HERO

There was a long hour drive on the bus back to the hotel. Michael slept like a baby and on his side was still Dianna who had been using his own shoulder like a pillow. To everyone around, it appeared that Dianna and Michael head an intimate relationship, but this was far from the case. They had known each other since they were freshmen in High School and were happy to have known that they would be gaining a scholarship at the same school.

Everything was calm. A majority of the players on the bus were asleep and the ones that weren't were occupied by the loud music blasting through their choice of headphones or ear plugs. They had a long day and tomorrow it would get no only longer, but more complicated. They were matched up against the number three ranked school in the NCAA and their lineup was much different from anything they would have played.

The sky was dark. They may have been on a sports bus type vehicle, but it could only go so fast. Food was being brought to the players as if they were on a plane, but since everyone had pretty much been in a state of meditation all of that slowed down. Even the coaches joined them in on a quick nap because if there was anyone who would be worked to their absolute peak it was them. Dealing with rotations, plays, substitutions, counter-plays and even studying film would truly give one the mental challenge of the Gods. It was up for them to figure out how to balanced this in the next eight hours.

The driver continued to drive, tapping his hands against the steering wheel as he hummed his own tune. Then, suddenly, there was a loud boom. "**BOOM**", the entire bus came to a halt as the front end was completely smushed and smashed. Everyone on the bus immediately woke up, their hearts racing as they would have thought everything flashed before them. They looked through the window but could see nothing.

"What the hell was that?" The coach asked, his eyes looking directly through the front windshield but there was not a single soul in sight. The same could be said for the rest of the students as well.

Squinting his eyes the driver tried to make something out of the situation, "We've been here, but I don't see anything." Removing his seatbelt, he looked back to the passengers. "Stay on the bus, I'll check this out."

Michael stood to his feet alongside Dianna who both looked to the front of the truck. Mouth dropping, Michael shouted out to the driver. "Aye, don't go out there!" Through his eyes, he could see something that everybody else on the bus he could not. A giant creature with a white exo-skeleton.

The gigantic Hollow had been prowling around the roadways of this particular area for a few weeks now, devouring vehicles and their occupents without any interruption. The lack of soul reapers it guessed was due to its modus operandi of attacking vehicles to cause what would be viewed as "car accidents" by the public. Tonight was no different with its prime meal for the night having been spotted, a large transport bus from where it could see was filled to the brim with prime, young humans to devour.

The Hollow sprung into action, leaping from the shoulder of the road where it had been stalking passing vehicles, it landed on the front of the bus with a thunderous **Boom**, completely destroying the engine and any hopes of driving away from the gigantic beast that had landed there. Shortly after its landing, a stout, rotund human who the Hollow had identified as the driver left the bus, clearly searching for the cause of the sudden accident. Anyone who was spiritually aware would see the Hollow bissect the man with a scissor-like growth on its left hand before grabbing the two halves and promptly devouring them.

Leering at the panicked occupants of the bus, it focuses its gaze on one young man who while alarmed was seemingly looking straight at the Hollow as if he could see the monstrous creature. The Hollow's mask twists into a nightmarish grin as its vision seems to lock onto the young man as a wolf would do to a young lamb. And this lamb would soon find itself alone and without any support from those nearby as with a sharp burst of Reiatsu, all the terrified occupents of the motorized coffin would find themselves knocked unconcious by the sheer spiritual pressure released from the gigantic Hollow.

With the sudden burst of his spiritual pressure, everyone on the bus found themselves knocked out. However, this was not the case for Michael who still had his eyes locked onto the Hollow that sat at the front of the bus. To his left, Dianna was nowhere to be found but his andrenline had blinded him from noticing and had simply assumed she too was passed out.

He slowly began to trample down the isle of the bus before he finally made it to the front. His backpack was still strapped to his back. He said not a word but his heart races as his eyes followed the curving mask of the Hollow which indicated a smile. "What, the, fuck, is, this?" Michael said, he placed a heavy pause between each of those words to truly show he really wanted to know what that was. "Everybody passed out too? What the fuck?"

Head shaking, he quickly pulled his backpack off of his back and unzipped it while rushing to the front of the bus. As he reached the exit of the bus, Michael pulled out a gun from his backpack and as he held it up its full make and model could be seen. In his hand he clenched a beautiful all black Glock 19 with an extended magazine at the bottom giving him an additional thirty shots. It was illegal for a player to have a firearms, but luckily for Michael, he possessed a gun license and by the grace of the almighty he was able to also fly with it. Of course he did this without the permission of his coach but he absolutely refused to get caught in a situation in the great state of New York.

While running in the opposite direction from the bus, the athlete lifted his arm and pointed the barrel of his gun at the Hollow. Squeezing on the trigger multiple times, he allowed a flurry of bullets to shoot out of the chamber towards the Hollow. "Nigas know I ain't going, what!" Michael shouted out, continuously releasing shots off. These were nothing but normal day to day bullets. Had this been a Human or even a Shinigami, sure, but this was neither one. These bullets would do nothing.

"I'm gettin' up outta here! What the fuck is that shit."

The massive Hollow merely stared at the little lamb who had begun running from the bus as he fired round after round into the thick exoskeleton of the monstrous beast, the grin starting to morph into a cruel smile from ear-to-ear across the mask of the Hollow as its night had become far more interesting with a prey who had realized that it was being hunted.

After the gun had begun making the tell-tale click of being out of bullets, something the Hollow instictually knew as the prime moment to make a move on prey. The beast abandoned its original quarry of the bus' occupants and begins prowling towards the still fleeing man, taking its sweet time as it opens and closes the shear-like implement on its arm. The action causing an unnerving noise like that of nails on a chalkboard as it draws closer to its prey, relishing in the fear of the little lamb who had fled from its herd.

He knew that his bullets were landing, but the fact that the creature continued to move forward meant that this was truly something he couldn't understand. Tucking his gun back into his waistline, Michael was careful in how he handled it. Glocks were very specific types of guns in that they didn't possess a safety button. The wrong move or even simply dropping it would cause the weapon to go off and potentially harm himself.

His feet tapped against the ground as he continued to run along the freeway. There was no one on the street, not even a single animal. "Where the fuck is everybody?" He asked himself, "New York is supposed to never be fuckin' sleep!!" He went on to remind himself of the state's motto. Then again, you're never supposed to believe what's on the internet. He moved swiftly, each step gaining him more distance than the last. He could go on for at least another mile or two without needing a break, his athletic body and physical conditioning allowed for this.

"Man, I just know I ain't finna die to some shit outta movie man!"

The athletic body of the man was fast, but the large body of the Hollow was deceptively lithe, giving an earnest match in an endurance to the athlete. Titanic swathes of road being swallowed underneath the beast's massive gait as it follows the lamb, slowly gaining on its quarry as they traverse the long, winding roads of the Sleepless City of New York.

The roads ahead of the two almost seems endless, unchanging except for maybe a street light being on the wrong side, or repeated buildings. Things that would go unnoticed in the adrenal-fueled haze of prey attempting to outrun a predator that was closing the distance between the two. The sounds of the opening and closing scissor drawing nearer and nearer to the athlete as the pair continue on their path during the nighttime hunt of the Hollow.

"I'm not outrunning this shit..." Michael finally said to himself coming to the conclusion that what he was seeing was supernatural. Hard stopping, he pivoted with his foot in front of the other and turned around completely. "Tch," he clicked his teeth, "And I always never understood why the black people died first in movies. But being put in this situation, it all makes sense."

Lifting his gave, the college freshman locked onto the Hollow which had been coming towards him. "What the hell are you?" Michael asked, taking up a street fighting stance. His arms where up to his face and his hands were balled into fists. "On God himself, I'm gone punch some shit down first." He said, running towards the Hollow with his fist up and punching at the creature aiming right for its face.

The Hollow's eyes gleam with a twisted satisfaction as it watches the man stop in place, assuming that the terror-filled chase had finally drained the man of all his stamina. The eyes turned into a look of confusion however as the man pivoted on the spot and turned towards the beast, a burning determination in his eyes as he raised his fists towards the Hollow.

The monster would meet the man's challenge head-on, unwavering and unflinching. It had no reason to be cautious, the lamb's bullets hadn't harmed it in the slightest, why would the lamb's fist be different? It would even do the man the service of offering a single clean hit of its mask, just to rub in how weak the athlete was.

No hesitation nor regrets, Michael continued onward with his strike. *"Oh, you wanna see if I hit like that?"* Michael thought to himself, clenching his fist even tighter than before. Veins stretch along his balled fist all the way up his arm. Stepping hard, but extending his leg out even further, Michael took a larger step than before allowing him to cut the gap between himself and the Hollow much sooner than what was anticipated.

Colliding with the center of the Hollow's face, Michael's enhanced strength due to his physical training would have given the Hollow a feel beyond just the useless squirming of a normal human. A gust of wind would follow behind the bunch sending a vibration through the body of not just the Hollow but Michael as well.

The Hollow staggered back slightly from the blow, clutching its face as vibrations caused by the blow rattle throughout the body of the beast. Shaking its head to clear its punch-addled mind, its eyes narrow as it stares down the one who was the source of the pain that was now coursing through its body.

The twisted beast licks the shear-like implement with an almost alien tongue before rearing up the arm that had the wicked protrusions attatched to it, leaving the blades open. The Hollow continued to pull its arm back to the furthest extant that the unnatural physiology would allow for, thrusting forward with the two edges as it reached that point. The attack bore the intent of pruning the leg of the lamb so that he could not flee from what would soon be his demise if he did not receive outside intervention.

His punch landed and much to his surprise had a bit of an effect. At the same time, his knuckles cracked as his bones broke from the full force punch against the super enhanced exoskeleton of the Hollow. Gritting his teeth, Michael squinted his eyes in pain and quickly pulled his fist back. *"What the fuck this shit made out of?"* He asked himself, picking his face back up to meet the Hollow eye to eye. In what seemed like a the split second, the Hollow had already recovered and readied himself to retailiate with a strike of his own.

Reaction time was next level. Eye tracking the Hollows own fist, Michael anticipated the Hollow's attack and bent down before throwing himself into the air showing off his insane twenty nine inch verticle. "Oh shit!" Michael said in response to his recent action, "I can't control my body in the air, I fucked up. And my damn hand."

The Hollow's eyes fill with a tempestous hatred at the man as he performs an almost super-human feat by springing nigh three feet off of the ground in his attempt to avoid the beast's attack. The accomplishment proved fruitful as the blow struck the earth violently, sending small chunks of debris scattering into the opposite direction of the strike.

Intead of pulling the weapon-clad fist back for another attack, the beast opts to strike the man with its other fist, this one simply a monstrous hybrid between wolf and man in its twisted appearance. Pulling back the hand up towards the opposite side of the head, the Hollow would swing forcefully, intent on backhanding the little lamb and sending him crashing into a nearby building were he could more easily be preyed upon by the creature.

"Oh fuck!" These were the only two words Michael could utter before the opposite hand of the Hollow he had been expecting to hit him came into contact with the side of his body. His eyes slammed shut upon imact as his body was tossed across the area like a ragdoll before ultimately colliding with the builing the Hollow intended for him to collide with. The force was so immense that the wall of the building he crashed into crushed under the sheer pressure of his body.

Pain traveled throughout his body. No amount of workouts his trainers and coaches put him through over the years could reach what he had been feeling right now. "Ack," He coughed, blood landed within the rubble mixed into his saliva. "My ribs, if my shit ain't broken, then they fa'sure fracture." His closed his eyes even tighter as he grit his teeth, the pain overflowing throughout his body. He was in a worse position than before and from where he was, he couldn't even more his body. The pain was just too much. Even if he wanted to, the dust and debris cloud was so thick that he couldn't see through it.

Michale quickly opened his eyes, *"It's like, ack, I can feel him, but I can't see him."* Blood slipped from his lips once again, he struggled to even get the words out of his mouth.

The Hollow brings the fist up towards its mask, a long tongue sliding through the mouth, lapping the ichor of the lamb off of it. The beast turns its gaze towards the man trapped beneath the rubble of the building, a grotesque lust glinting in its eyes. Ripping the shears from the ground, the Hollow begins staggering towards the man, relishing in his glorious sounds of agony and beautiful movements of suffering.

As the beast draws closer to the pile of debris, it waves an arm through the air brutishly, clearing the dust from the area so that the little lamb may view the jaws of death that will soon be closing down upon him. The Hollow stands directly in front of the battered man, tapping the shears on the man's thighs due to his incapability of resistance acquired because of his debilitating injuries. Pulling the weapon back, it places it over the ankle, slowly closing it, intent on severing foot from leg.

The Hollow's figure appeared through the sandscreen. Michael's eyes followed him solely on his ability to sense spiritual pressure, but he simply couldn't move his body. "Move!" Michael said to himself, trying to be his own motivator. Veins stretched across his entire body as he strained himself. "Move, Mike damn niga!" But his body simply ignored his commands.

Step by step it inched closer. Michael's eyes grew wider as he closed in on him and his adrenaline rushed even more. The blow flowing went straight to his heart, pumping it even faster than before. While he may have never been put in a situation like this before he still didn't seem nervous. He was use to being in high pressured situations, literally having three seconds left on shot clocks and being done by one point had happened more than once in his life. It was moreso that he was scared. Scared that his life would be lost and there was nothing he could do about it. Then, finally, the Hollow stood right over him.

It prepared its attack, ready to make sure work of Michael's foot with its swing. However, just before it could make contact with its leg, a fluster of wind dispersed before a small boom could be heard. The sound of a bullet, or even a dart, being thrown at high speeds could be heard through a whistling sound. Right in front of Michael, a green light flashed before it withered away. Laying on the ground, all Michael could see were a set of metalic boots once the green light disappeared. Mouth opened he slowly lifted his head as he met what was with was a figure dressed head to toe in a silver and red armor. It was clear as day that this person, whoever they were underneath, was a knight.

The Knight held their sword down to the side, right next to Michael's ankle, blocking the Hollow's strike. "It seems I made it just in time," It was hard to make the person's voice out. It was perfect mix between distortion and robotic, but it was clear that it was masculine. "But you're a strong one though, I'll make short work of you."

Michael's eyes widened upon the knight appearing. The light off of the building that he was thrown into shined bright and illuminated off of his armor, making him the center of attention. Though Michael would never admit it, in this case, this man was his HERO. "Wait, who the fuc-"

Before the athlete could get his words out, the Knight lifted him and threw him over his shoulder with his free hand. Then, with his broadsword parrying the Hollow's own weapon, he tossed him away and flashed away through a high-speed movement which landed him right next to the bus, a distance away from the Hollow right back to where they started.

"Huff," Michael panted, "Aye, I appreciate that." he continued to breathe heavily, before the knight tossed his body to the ground up against the school bus. "HEY, FUCK YOU!" He winced out in pain, teeth gritting.

"I don't need you getting in my way, stay back kid."

The jaws of the blade were about to snap shut upon the foot, but just as life would soon be separated from the limb, a whistling shriek pierces the still midnight air. The Hollow's eyes flicker towards the noise before turning its gaze down towards its prey. The blades once more begin their act of severance, but are interrupted by another sword joining the fold, halting the closing blades in their tracks. The owner of the sword stands besides the man, unwavering and steadfast in the face of a true monstrosity.

A loud, volatile hiss emnates from the Hollow's maw as what could have been a crippling blow to the lamb was suddenly blocked and parried by a humanoid clad in armaments of silver and red armour. They had made a sudden appearance on the scene in the man's time of need on what would have been a slaughter like some sort of HERO from legend or myth.

The beast watches as the armour-clad HERO flashes then reappears near the bus, suddenly feeling like prey instead of predator due to the quick and controlled movements of the newest member to join the fray. The pressure of what was once a hunt transforming into a brawl was beginning to wear down upon the nerves of the beast. Instinct kicked in, fight or flight taking hold, flight being the favored option of the Hollow, but not without at least getting one more taste of blood from the lamb.

The creature took its weapon-garbed hand and spun around, slicing a gaping, darkened hole in reality, making an exit too Hueco Mundo it can quickly flee through if its last ditch effort at finishing its meal falls through. The Hollow returns its attention towards the man and the myth, carefully watching for any sudden movements from the Knight that could bring its life to a close.

"What the fuck?" The teen cursed, looking up to the sliced open sky as a hole was created by the Hollow it what was just a single motion. He was in agonizing pain, but the sighting of this unnatural event occuring made him lose track of the pain. *"This shit is like that movie... The sky is fallin'."* Michael thought in reference to the famous Chicken Little movie from his childhood. He then turned his attention back to the knight and Hollow. It was quite clear that the two were about to face off and Michael had understood that.

Arm wrapped around his side to apply pressure in an attempt to counter the pain, he rememered that his knuckles had also been damaged. "You think imma' try and get in yo way?" Michael asked in a serious tone, "If I could fuckin' run right now, I would! I ain't tryna die!"

"Heh," the knight chuckled back, the metallic structuring of its armor shining even through the dark sky . "I can't do nothing but respect that." Though the knight had been looking forward, it was clear that its words were directed towards Michael. With a mighty swing at the air, he sliced through the wind creating a breeze which sent a high speed gust across the area. The gust was strong enough to lift nearby rubble, trash, and even Michael's jacket up into the air.

Tossing the broadsword over its shoulders, the blade rested along his frame through the sound of metal clanking against itself. "I'll give you one strike to flee." The knight said arrogantly to the Hollow. "But I want you to know that if you don't, the next will kill you without a doubt." The knight ended, stabbing the broadsword into the ground where it would then stand like a pillar.

With the simple lifting of his leg, the knight vanished leaving but a green flash behind. Michael's eyes widened at the knight's display of speed and found himself mesmorized by the ability and supernatural talent. "How did h-" before he could even form his question, the knight reappeared in front of the Hollow with a roundhouse kick which commanded the winds. With this strike, the knight intended to use its legs which had been covered by the steel armor to send the Hollow flying into the opposite direction as a warning attack.

"So damn fast, I could barely follow its movements." Michael said.

The clunk of metal upon metal caused by sword upon armour drags the Hollow's attention once more to the knight, the action causing the wayward spirit to shift uncomfortably in front of the rift it had torn asunder in reality. Its eyes watching the knight as the hero proclaims an ultimatum to the beast, puncuated by the thrusting of the blade into the earth like a certain sword wielded by a different hero who had arrived in a time of need.

In a singular moment, the knight had vanished from his position and reappeared in front of the Hollow, his leg flying towards the beast's torso like a whirlwind in effect and motion, a howling gale accompanying the ferocious blow. The creature was sent hurtling by the force of the strike, careening into the building that the lamb had been sent into earlier.

The beast stands up slowly, one of its legs wobbling and blood leaking from a gash that runs across its ribs that were bent at an unnatural angle. Its eyes glimmering with fear as the knight stands staunch still, ready to follow up with another strike if the Hollow doesn't make an escape. Staring at the **Garganta** it had created, the Hollow quickly makes a running dash for it before leaping, attempting to cross the gateway between realities to one that was amicable to Hollows so as to escape the predator that had turned it into prey.

Regaining his stance, the Knight, though his horned helmet masked his face, smiled as the Hollow fled off into the Garganta that was made in the sky. He didn't expect the Hollow to truthfully heed to his advice, but he knew that this would only mean something much worse for the coming future. He strut across the road, headed back for his broadsword and lifted it from the ground before standing in front of Michael and looking up at the sky.

He then brought his attention back to Michael, he was still mesmorized by all that had happened. The short moments of skill that was displayed before him was all that he needed to be taken off of his feet. The Knight didn't say anything to him directly regarding it, but he could sense it just from the expression that was worn on his face.

"I'm glad that I was able to get 'em to get out of here before things got worse," The Knight said, gripping the hilt of his broadsword before tossing it over his shoulder. "Wouldn't want to go into a full battle considering the location of course."

Taking a gulp of his own spit down his throat, Michael forced himself to his feet. "Man, who the fuck you is?!" He had a hundred questions to ask the man and he began to randomly bombard him with more. "This was like fresh outta a manga or some shit, oh my god! Like I ain't trippen, am I? This shit real right? You came in on some Lebron shit, swingin' the sword around moving the wind all kinda' shit, I swear this shit felt fake. But ah!" He gripped his side, "This pain too crazy to be fake though, on God."

If the young man could, he would have asked the knight even more questions. This moment would have quickly turned into a post-game interview but his pain was so immense that he struggled even getting those previous words out of his lips without his lungs feeling as though they were being repeatedly punched by Floyd Mayweather.

"I ain't got time to be answering all those questions kid." The Knight responded, cutting Michael from his teeth gritting that had seemed to become his favorite action at this point. "But, I'll leave you with this information. Things like that are gonna' keep coming for you. You've got some crazy spiritual pressure. It's gonna start being unsafe for you. Get that looked at." The Knight paused and reached into its armor, "Oh, and take this. It'll help you recover from those wounds." It ended, vanishing off into the dark night before Michael could bombard him with another flurry of questions.

The bus Michael leaned himself up against shook. "Spiritual pressure? The fuck is he talkin' about?" The athelte asked, looking down at his hands, trying his best to apply a limit to his movements. "Man, fuck." he said looking to the medicine that had been dropped into his lap. "Wait.. they're gonna keep comin?"