You never imagined that climbing the Espada ranks would feel like banging your head against a wall. But there it was—Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck, the green-haired storm you just couldn’t weather. You’d taken down Yammy, crushed Arrauniero, even outlasted Nnoitra—but Nelliel? She was a different beast entirely.

For months now, you’d challenged her daily, each fight ending the same way: you lying broken, bruised, and utterly defeated. Again.

And every time, just when you thought she might finish you off with a final, humiliating blow, she did the unthinkable. Nelliel would patch you up. Slow, careful healing, like a seasoned medic. Like a warrior who didn’t want her opponent to disappear.

You hated it.

You hated the way her emerald eyes sparkled with that infuriating mix of amusement and something softer—something you were too stubborn to admit you didn’t totally despise.

Today was no different.

The sun scorched the barren expanse of Hueco Mundo as you faced her once again. The wind howled, kicking up dust that swirled around your feet. Nelliel stood relaxed, a smirk teasing the corner of her lips, one hand casually resting on the hilt of her zanpakutō.

“Back for another beating?” she teased, voice smooth as silk but sharp as a blade.

You sneered. “This time will be different.”

“Every time you say that,” she said, stepping forward, “you’re wrong.”

With a roar, you charged—your blade slashing through the air with desperate force. She danced around your attacks effortlessly, the grace of a seasoned warrior, each movement fluid and precise. You hacked and parried, pushing your limits, but the gap between your skill and hers stretched wider with every exchange.

“You really don’t learn, do you?” Nelliel said, catching your wrist and flipping you to the ground with a flick. Her grip was firm, but her smile never faltered.

You spat dust and grit. “I’m learning. Just not fast enough.”

She knelt beside you, brushing a stray lock of hair from your brow. “You’re learning more than just strength. Patience. Strategy. Humility. Qualities your victories never demanded.”

The words stung worse than her strikes.

“But why do you patch me up?” you demanded, eyes burning with equal parts frustration and confusion. “Why not just finish me off?”

Her gaze softened for a moment, vulnerability flickering behind her warrior’s mask. “Because you’re stubborn. Because I want to see how far you’ll go before you break. Because… I respect your fight.”

You blinked. Respect? From Nelliel? The same woman who was your fiercest rival, your daily tormentor?

“Don’t get used to it,” you muttered, half-angry, half-bewildered.

She chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “Oh, I won’t. But neither of us can afford to fall. Not yet.”

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows as exhaustion settled in your limbs. You sat up, wincing at the ache but also feeling a strange warmth—a bond slowly knitting itself between two warriors bound by rivalry and a shared hunger for strength.

“Tomorrow, then,” you said, flexing your fingers. “Same time. Same place. And this time, I’m taking you down.”

Her grin was victorious and teasing. “I’ll be waiting.”

As you walked away, battered but not broken, you realized something. Nelliel wasn’t just your obstacle—she was your teacher. Your unexpected ally in the war of strength and survival. A constant reminder that sometimes, the fiercest fights forged the deepest connections.

And maybe, just maybe, that was a power all its own.