There was nothing more he wanted than for her to say YES. He didnât think he had ever wanted anything more in his entire life. It was like the world was standing still. The blood in his veins not flowing. He knew she wouldnât. Of course he knew. She would never acknowledge him. She would never understand. It was too much to ask for. He was dreading her answer. She knew exactly how to hurt him and â she fucking loved to hurt him. She was just as much of a monster as him. Maybe he couldnât blame her for that.
   He knew her answer before she spoke. Her expression had been different than the one she usually faced him with, but now the signs of compassion were fading away. She regarded him with COLDNESS now. Maybe she really couldnât help herself. She was SOFT with others. Kind. But not to him. Never to him. It was just a dream for him. Then she said it -
   You can fight your own battles.
   The happiness those words brought him was so brief that he didnât get to hold onto it. It was like a bolt through him. Gone before he could blink, because then those words followed -
   But I am still alive because of only one reason - You are weaker than me.
   His single eye widened in fury. Or so he wished anyway, but it wasnât anger. It was just hurt dressed up as anger. It hurt to hear her say it. You are weaker than me. Yeah - she couldnât see it. Just like everyone else, she was unable to see the WEIGHT Nnoitra was carrying. She had no idea just how heavy it was for him just to exist. If she had spent a day in his boots she wouldâve been crying. But she didnât know, so she was looking at him with coldness. She, a marble statue. Carved from stone, strong. Him? Flesh and blood. Bleeding on the inside. He was going to swing Santa Teresa at her soon, but first -
   â Yer fuckinâ wrong! â She was not stronger than him. NOBODY was stronger than him. Nobody could carry what he carried. â Ya think I couldnât âa killed ya back then?! â He wasnât yelling at her, but the words came out violently. His voice vibrating with the hurt. He wasnât lying. He COULD have killed her back then. She had been as vulnerable as anything, when he had tossed her child-form out of Las Noches. But he hadnât wanted to kill her like that.â But Iâ â No, he couldnât tell her this. It would be opening up. Showing her his wounds. Then he couldnât stop his words. â Wanted âta defeat ya by myself. Iâm gonna defeat ya. âN before ya die, yer GONNA accept me as a warrior! âPLEASE. He might as well have pleaded for the recognition. His words as honest as a confession.Â
Unfortunately for Nnoitra, whilst she could respect his spirit, she could not acknowledge him as a complete warrior. In her eyes, there was a criteria that he could not fulfill - that he would never be able to reach. And that lofty position, she had given it away to someone already. The type of person that a warrior was- was the one who wanted to save others. Whether it was a hundred people that he could save, just his small family⊠or even just one person⊠the fact remained that Ichigoâs selfless will to fight could never be replicated by Nnoitra. Because Nnoitra couldnât even be bothered to save himself, let alone others.
This is not a warrior in Nellielâs eyes. This is not someone whose life she can burden herself with. But⊠she had seen glimpses of this warrior. She can acknowledge this. And she can also⊠acknowledge how much she has hurt him without ever drawing her blade. Even though heâs infuriated with her answer right now, she cannot lie. She has followed him for many years prior to her memory loss/exile in Hueco Mundo⊠that she knows which answer would hurt him.
âI am wrong?â She repeats it calmly, but it may as well have been her mocking those words at him. As if she could never be wrong. As if she considered him a little slow and dull-witted.
She may have thought he was at first, but now she can see that Nnoitra can become friends with other hollow. That he could also be drawn into the schemes and plots of those weaker than himself. Because Nelliel knows Nnoitra. She is very aware that the betrayal, that plan, could never have been thought up by him alone. Nnoitra who brazenly challenged her would never use an underhanded technique to use illusions and trickery. He would hit her in the open (not that he could). So she knows that he must have had some help. But who would help Nnoitra to displace her? Which arrancar coveted her position? Who was desperate to rise in ranks within Aizenâs army of Espada? There were too many candidates. Too many desperate hollow, thirsty to stand at the top and eager to watch her fall. She was not disappointed that she lost her position⊠she was only sad that her brothers had their masks torn from their faces. A cruel attack from someone horrifically stronger than them. They should have always had her protection. That was her true crime- that she could not look after them.
â⊠I know you could have killed me many times, but you did not.â
And this time, her eyes glimmered with interest. Whilst she despised battle, Nelliel could recall every single one. And the ones that stood out to her, were the ones where Nnoitra had chances to kill her but he never did. Not a single time. Back when she had seen the horror and trauma inflicted on her brothers, she had been overcome with emotion too. Heâd had his chance to swing then. Even when he had cracked open her skull, he did not finish the job. She had been defenseless. And then, more recently, she recalled in vivid detail Santa Teresa pointed towards her neck but not breaching her hierro.
He had stopped his blade the same time she had. Even know, the weapon he so proudly strutted around with, was screaming for her blood but his bangles werenât violently jangling as they would in battle. His breathing was unsteady with anger and his voice was risingâ but there was almost a desperate look about him.
âNnoitra⊠if you want to defeat me, you need to let go of your shame at being weaker than me. Even now⊠you say defeat and not kill. Because you do not believe you can kill me.â
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