You’d thought that once the Thousand-Year Blood War ended and Yhwach was dust, your life would finally settle down. No more endless fights, no more chasing after exploding arrows or dodging spirit particles. Just peace. Normalcy. Maybe even a little quiet. Ha.

Enter Meninas McAllon.

Your Quincy nemesis since forever—literally decades of brawls, tactical showdowns, and those infuriating smirks she flashes right before she tries to vaporize you. You lost count of the number of times you clashed. She was like the universe’s ultimate annoying ex—except, and here’s the kicker, you were never actually together. No relationship, just relentless, mutual antagonism. But like any bad ex, she just wouldn’t leave you alone. You wanted out of the fight, but she? She thrived on it.

Then, just when you thought she’d disappeared with the rest of the Sternritters, the TYBW dragged you back into the fray. The battlefield was grim, but there she was—pouncing, taunting, and wrecking your plans with the precision of a professional pest. You fought, you won, and you held her down during the Auswählen. It was supposed to be the final act, the last time you’d have to deal with her.

After Yhwach’s death, the war’s close, you dared to dream of a quiet life.

But that dream shattered one evening when a sharp knock echoed through your door. You opened it to find Meninas, looking like she hadn’t a clue where else to go.

“Don’t tell me you’ve come to haunt me again,” you muttered, arms crossed, eyeing her warily.

“Relax,” she said with a lazy grin. “Quincys are free now, but I’m a bit… between places.”

You sighed, resisting the urge to slam the door shut. As division commandant, you could technically say no. But then again, you were too lazy to find a better solution. So you gave in.

“Fine. But don’t get comfortable,” you warned.

She smirked like she’d just won a trophy.

Soon, she was not just crashing at your place but also somehow your vice commandant. Not because of some great leadership qualities—no, you just needed someone to do the paperwork you always put off. And, let’s be honest, who better than your most infuriating nemesis?

Living with Meninas was like having a ticking time bomb in your kitchen. Every morning began with some new disaster she either caused or proudly claimed responsibility for.

One day, you walked into the kitchen to find flour covering the counters, your carefully brewed tea spilled on the floor, and Meninas casually munching on a burnt toast.

“What happened here?” you asked, exasperated.

She shrugged. “I call it… ‘culinary experimentation.’”

You groaned. “More like a crime scene.”

At the office, her ‘help’ with the division’s paperwork was equally… creative.

“Vice commandant,” you said one afternoon, glancing at a report filled with doodles and sarcastic comments, “please tell me you didn’t file this as official business.”

She grinned. “Officially amusing, if nothing else.”

Meetings were a special kind of torture. Meninas had a habit of leaning back in her chair, feet up on the table, tossing snide remarks that left everyone else too stunned or annoyed to respond.

“Are you ever going to take this seriously?” you’d whisper-hiss at her.

Her reply? “When the world stops being boring.”

Despite the chaos, you had to admit: she was good at her job when she wanted to be. And, as much as you hated to admit it, having her around made the division run smoother—if only because she distracted you from the mountain of responsibility crushing your shoulders.

One evening, you found her sprawled across your couch, watching some ridiculous drama on TV, eating snacks like she owned the place.

“You know,” she said without looking away from the screen, “this whole ‘freedom’ thing is overrated.”

You smirked. “And yet you keep showing up here.”

“Because you’re tolerable… sometimes,” she said, finally glancing at you with a mischievous spark.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.