Work Text:
“Say that to my face, you little freak!”
Nel lets out a deep sigh as she hears the telltale sounds of a fight breaking out— and as she pushes into the main hall of Las Noches, both Harribel and Grimmjow turn to look at her.
“Your Fraccion are causing trouble again,” Harribel says, although she looks at both her and Grimmjow when she says it, her eyes moving between the two of them.
On the other hand, Grimmjow snorts and says,
“Yeah, get your idiots under control.”
“I’m the one who doesn’t have my Fraccion under control?”
She glares at him, and he glares right back, and the two of them engage in a staring contest for a few seconds before her concentration is broken by the sound of one of Grimmjow’s Fraccion yelping.
Both of their heads snap over, and Nel sees Di Roy hopping around holding his hand, probably because of the fresh bite wound.
Pesche has snatched up the perpetrator and has backed off to hide behind Dondochakka while the two of them contemplate whether the rest of Grimmjow’s Fraccion are about to try to kill them, even though most of them seem like they’re much more interested in laughing at Di Roy’s predicament than taking revenge.
Nnoitra doesn’t look the least bit remorseful. If anything, he looks quite proud of himself for what he just did, and the way he’s grinning with his sharp canines on full display definitely make it seem like he’s having a great time.
Grimmjow turns to Nel and raises an eyebrow at her. He doesn’t say anything— but it’s not like he really needs to say anything.
In turn, she just rolls her eyes at him and heads over to where her Fraccion are.
As soon as she makes her way over, Grimmjow’s Fraccion immediately back off, even before Nel manages to put herself physically between them and her own Fraccion.
“Nnoitra, apologize.”
The Nnoitra she’s looking down at as he squirms in Pesche’s grasp is not the Nnoitra she remembers.
Sure, there are plenty of similarities, like the fact that he’s missing an eye or the very rude looking snarl he has on his face.
But the original Nnoitra was a lot bigger. And definitely not a child.
He’s just as stubborn as he always was, though, because as soon as she says that, he just huffs and throws his head to the side.
“No! He started it!”
“And I’m finishing it,” she says sternly. “Apologize, now.”
Now it’s her and Nnoitra glaring at each other— although it feels a lot more ridiculous when she’s having a staring contest with a child than an adult, even if Grimmjow definitely doesn’t act like one.
But eventually, Nnoitra’s snarl turns to a pouty frown, and he’s the first to look away.
He mutters a half-hearted, “Sorry…” that she’s not even sure Di Roy hears— but while Grimmjow’s Fraccion still look pissed, they back off even more as she straightens up and turns towards them, waiting to see if they plan on still making a fuss.
That’s the best she can really hope for from Nnoitra, after all.
But they don’t do or say anything, looking at her like they’re worried she’s going to start attacking them at any moment, until finally she turns and walks off.
Pesche and Dondochakka follow behind her, and eventually Nnoitra manages to squirm out of Pesche’s grip and comes running up to keep pace with her instead of following behind the way her brothers do.
He reaches up to grab her hand, and Nel doesn’t do anything to stop him.
When Nel looks out across the sand, her heart sinks into the pit of her stomach.
It wasn’t supposed to end like this, is all she can think.
Of course, it was always going to end like this. Part of her has always known that, from the moment she and Nnoitra met.
This is what he’s always wanted, isn’t it? A warrior’s death at the hands of someone stronger than him, because all he can imagine is a world full of killing until either someone puts him under or he’s the only one left standing at the top. The same philosophy that kept them so divided, and something Nnoitra never was shy about telling her at every turn.
And yet…
Even now, even after realizing what Nnoitra did to her back then, she still regrets that it had to come to this. That the very thing Nnoitra wanted had actually come to pass.
Nel rises to her feet and starts to wander towards the scene of the battle. Ichigo and his friends have already moved on, including the incredibly strong shinigami that took down Nnoitra; they have other things to be concerned about right now, and she’s not sure she’s going to be of any use, at least for a while. Even though she’s managed to keep hold of her form, she’s exhausted and could revert back to her child self at any moment, which would render her more of a hindrance than a help.
And she wanted to be alone with the scene of the battle for a little while.
It’s not like she and Nnoitra were friends. They hated each other, so fiercely that in the end, Nnoitra tried to kill her… And when that failed, he tossed her and her Fraccion into the deserts of Hueco Mundo to fend for themselves, her body small and helpless and her mind more or less reduced to mush by the head injury she sustained when he split her mask.
So why does she feel so… Sad?
She only didn’t kill him when she had the chance to prove a point, right?
It’s not as though she actually cares that Nnoitra is dead— not when that’s exactly what he’s wanted all along.
Right?
She wonders how long she can keep kidding herself.
As she wanders through the sand, remembering all of the times she and Nnoitra fought against each other in this exact spot— against her will, but she would give in eventually because he wouldn’t leave her alone otherwise— she suddenly stops when she sees movement.
After she collapsed and the shinigami captain had swept in to save the day and end the fight with Nnoitra, Ichigo had moved her somewhere safe so Orihime could protect her with her powers while she was vulnerable— and since she cracked her eyes open, perhaps drawn by the call of the silence of the fight coming to an end, she hasn’t been able to bear looking over at where Nnoitra had fallen.
They had locked eyes as he collapsed, finally coming to the end he always wanted, and she had kept his gaze until she couldn’t hold it any longer, and then she had gotten caught up in everyone chasing after Orihime when Starrk had grabbed her and now…
Now she’s alone.
Or so she thought.
She dares a look over at where Nnoitra fell, instinctively moving closer but tensing up as she prepares to either run or fight if she needs to. There’s no telling what Aizen might have sent to clean up after the fight, to catch any stragglers (like herself) off guard.
But all she sees is…
Nnoitra’s clothes?
There’s no body there, just a pile of clothes where he would have fallen. Nel doesn’t really know the full ins and outs of how Hollows work in spite of being one herself, but she does know that they don’t just disappear when they die. Not here in Hueco Mundo, at the very least.
And those clothes are moving.
She has her sword at the ready as she approaches, eyes narrowed, focused on the lump that’s squirming under the tattered remnants of Nnoitra’s shirt—
And then a head pops out.
She almost instinctively takes a swing, but she stops herself at the last moment, instead letting out a sharp cry as she stumbles backwards, landing right on her backside.
Because it’s not a lizard or a tiny Hollow that’s gotten in from outside somehow.
It’s a tiny Nnoitra.
His small head pokes up out of his clothes, his one eye blinking slowly as he looks around and tries to take everything in. He looks…
Confused. And lost. And small.
He makes a grumbling sort of whining sound, and slowly his lack of recognition turns to fear, and as soon as his head turns in her direction he jumps, gathering the remnants of his clothes around him as he scurries back and away from her.
“W-who are y-y-you?!” he demands, but he doesn’t exactly sound intimidating because his voice is shaking so hard that she can barely understand him.
All of him is shaking.
She doesn’t answer his question for a second because— well, because she’s too stunned to speak, looking at Nnoitra in miniature. His hair is shorter (more like the length she remembers it being when he was the Octava to her Tres), and he’s definitely taller than she is in her child form, but aside from that she gets a weird, almost sickening sense of deja vu.
She sits up all the way, then eventually makes it onto her hands and knees. As soon as she starts moving, Nnoitra tenses up even more and scoots back even further— so she stops moving, and the two stare at each other for a little while longer.
“Relax,” she says, in what she hopes is a soothing voice. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She sees the conflict in his face, between whether he’s going to believe her or not— she drops her zanpakuto, leaving it in the sand as she takes one more step forward on hands and knees to see if that helps at all, and even though he’s still tense he doesn’t try to back away anymore now that she’s unarmed.
“Who… Who are you?” he asks again, his voice steadier this time, but also less like he’s trying to be authoritative.
His grip on the tattered shirt slips, and he sees that on his tiny chest is a massive scar— right in the same spot that he was slashed by the shinigami for the final blow.
She stares at it for a second, then shakes her head so she can remember to look him in the eye and stop being rude as she says,
“My name… Is Nel.”
Grimmjow catches up to her just as she reaches her section of Las Noches.
Most of the place was pretty much destroyed when Aizen abandoned it, being defeated not long after. Some of it they’ve rebuilt, other parts of it they’ve decided are best cleaned up or left the way they are, but as long as they have enough space that the three of them and their Fraccion aren’t living directly on top of each other, it’s fine.
After all, that scene from a few minutes ago was a perfect example of what happens when all of them are in close quarters for… Really any length of time.
“Hey.”
Grimmjow grabs her shoulder to spin her around, like he thinks she’s going to ignore him if she doesn’t. Which, to be fair, is something she was seriously considering, since she’s pretty sure she’s already said her piece to him.
Nnoitra lets go of her hand so he can move in and cling to her leg instead, glaring up at Grimmjow with his one good eye. Nel rests her hand on top of his head, partly as a comforting gesture, partly to tell him not to attack Grimmjow like he just did to Di Roy.
“What is it, Grimmjow?”
“Not while the brat is here.”
He returns Nnoitra’s glare, and it’s to Nnoitra’s credit that he just glares back even harder instead of being intimidated by him.
Nel narrows her eyes at Grimmjow, using her hand on the top of Nnoitra’s head to draw him in even closer, as though that’s even really possible with how tightly he’s holding onto her to begin with.
But when she realizes Grimmjow isn’t backing down— and that he might actually have something to say— she sighs and gives Nnoitra a pat on the head.
“Take Pesche and Dondochakka to Tesra, okay?”
Pesche and Dondochakka are the ones who are actually watching him (in spite of their immaturity), but the thing about Nnoitra is that if she lets him believe she’s giving him some kind of responsibility or power over what’s going on, he tends to behave a lot better.
It’s funny how different he is, and yet how much he really is the same person. She just hopes that this time around he’ll turn out a little less murderous in the process.
“‘Kay,” he mutters, reluctantly letting go of her and keeping his eye on Grimmjow as he backs away towards Pesche and Dondochakka— then as soon as he’s grabbed Pesche’s hand and is dragging him off in the direction of Nel’s quarters, he takes off at speed.
She and Grimmjow stand there and watch her Fraccion run off until they hear a door slam somewhere.
“Okay,” she says. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“You know you’re just kidding yourself, right?”
Nel’s eye twitches.
“And what do you mean by that?”
“You seem to think that by keeping him close by and spoiling him like the little brat he is, you’re gonna change Nnoitra. But we can all tell he’s the same person inside, even if you can’t.”
She wants to say this sudden statement comes out of nowhere. She wants to say she’s surprised to hear it.
But she’s seen the way Grimmjow and Harribel both watch her, watch Nnoitra, as he tags alongside her holding her hand, as she stops him (or tries to stop him, at least) from picking fights with their Fraccion, as she does her best to make sure he’s not going to turn into the same person all over again.
She remembers what it was like for her— waking up with no memories of who she was or what was going on, the only comfort being Pesche and Dondochakka, who immediately took her under their wing and cared for her.
But when she came back to herself in order to protect Ichigo, all of her old memories came flooding back.
Does that mean she’s exactly the same person she was before that fateful encounter with Nnoitra on the roof of Las Noches? She likes to think otherwise.
Does that mean that, whenever Nnoitra regains his strength— by whatever means he does that, if it ever does happen— all of this hard work of hers is going to be for nothing?
She likes to think otherwise.
But she doesn’t know. None of them do. She doesn’t know that she’s right and that she’ll be able to influence him to be a better person by taking care of him like this; Grimmjow and Harribel don’t know that he’ll turn out to be exactly the same as he was before.
Which is why she doesn’t bother saying anything to that directly— she just looks at Grimmjow and asks,
“Is there a point to you telling me that, or…?”
“Just that if you’re really gonna keep the brat around, you better learn how to actually keep him under control.”
He shows off his teeth in a snarl as he gets in her face, but Nel has never been scared of Grimmjow. She just crosses her arms and stares back at him like she’s unimpressed— which she is.
Eventually, he seems to get the message— she’s not scared of him, and she’s not going to do anything about his ‘complaints’. After all, what does he expect her to do— throw a defenseless child out into the desert to fend for himself?
Just like Nnoitra did to her back then?
Yeah, she doesn’t think so.
Still snarling, he slinks off with his hands in his pockets, throwing back one final warning about keeping Nnoitra under control before someone else takes matters into their own hands.
And Nel just turns her back to him and heads into her quarters.
Her Fraccion have made themselves comfortable, with Pesche and Dondochakka talking quietly amongst themselves with Pesche hanging upside down off the back of her couch, and on the bed, Tesra is brushing out Nnoitra’s hair.
Tesra looks much the same as she’s always remembered him being— he’s started growing his hair out since the fall of Las Noches, closer now to how it looked when she was the Tres Espada, but he’s sporting his own scars from the battle against the shinigami that had changed Nnoitra to the state he’s still in today.
He glances up at her when she steps into the room, but she doesn’t distract him for long from what he’s doing— brushing Nnoitra’s hair while he rambles about his encounter with Di Roy, telling Tesra all about how much he doesn’t like the other Arrancar in Las Noches.
“And then stupid Grimmjow came up and I was gonna stay and protect Nel but she needed me to take care of Pesche and Chakka—”
Tesra hums in acknowledgement of his story, but Nnoitra’s head snaps up as soon as he hears the door open and close— he jumps out of Tesra’s lap and off Nel’s bed to race over to her and throw her arms around her legs.
“Did that stupid Grimmjow want to fight you, Nel?” he asks, and Nel laughs as she rests her hand on top of his head.
“Why would you think something like that?” she asks as she reaches down to scoop him up under the arms and carries him over to the bed where she drops him back off in Tesra’s care to finish the hair brushing. “He just needed to ask me a question. You don’t need to worry about things like that.”
And she’s going to make sure that he doesn’t. After all, it’s true that he might end up being exactly the same person he used to be when he returns to his original form and regains his memories; he also might not.
And he might not even regain that original form, for all she knows.
What she does know is that she’s going to do everything in her power to give him a chance, and no matter how it turns out…
Well, at least she’ll have given him the best chance that she can.
She ruffles the hair that Tesra has been working so hard to brush out as she walks past, stretching and yawning. She doesn’t need to sleep, but she’s so exhausted after all of that nonsense that it sounds like a great idea— and as she climbs onto the bed, Tesra scooting out of the way so she can get comfortable, Nnoitra squirms out of Tesra’s lap so he can crawl up the bed and lie down next to her.
Maybe they’re right about her spoiling him too much, but… She can’t help it.
After all, she wants to give him the best possible chance he can have.