For simple Hollows, the concept of 'blood in the water' was one of the few instincts they were able to consciously follow. A simple, universal truth that guided predators the world over, but mundane and supernatural: blood in the water means injured prey. A chance to feed, to feast. An opportunity for a kill, the challenge of other predators trying to beat you to your meal. Proving your superiority, claiming your hunting ground. Dominance. Yes, all that was true but it was also very basic, feral, primitive.

Unlike their feral counterparts, Arrancar were able to recognize those instincts that called to them but also use their evolved Will to control and ride those urges to their benefit. To think about what they were doing, even if they couldn't necessarily resist acting on it. And in this matter, Hollows and Arrancar remained kin. However, nearly four centuries of experience had taught Safira Vega that discretion and a few extra thoughts were the difference between 'just another fish' and being the big fucking dog on the block. She smelled the blood in the air too, so to speak.

Space tore open - a gruesome rip in reality like a jagged wound in flesh. The space around the Garganta bled a thing and viscous black spiritual matter which evaporated almost as soon as it oozed onto the ground. And through that portal stepped one of the rarest visitors Tokyo ever got: an Arrancar.

Her bone white boots squished into a messy chunk of Hollow flesh before they were able to click onto the concrete of an otherwise sleepy Tokyo neighborhood; the woman that wore said boots was unfazed and disinterested in the gore - at least the part she had nothing to do with. Tucking her wolf cut blonde hair behind her ears she stilled her mind and listened. Reaching out further and further with senses both simple and spiritual, she confirmed her instincts. Terror. Blood. Death. Suffering.

'This is all a bit cliche but, that's just how animals behave.' She thought to herself. 'Hollows here. I can feel...14 of them? Wait, scratch that. I can feel 13.'

Turning her head to look up the street, her spiritual senses had picked up on some sort of roiling wave. The death cry of yet another Hollow. 'Make that 12...'

Blood in the water didn't always mean prey -- sometimes it meant a hunter. And a lot of blood? That meant a hunter that had actually caught something.

With a narrowing of her eyes and a tensing of the muscles, Safira turned abruptly and left a static ripple in the space she used to occupy. Up the street, she would follow her senses to the slaughter. There was always a bigger fish, for better and for worse.

Zato had gone into the city to seek help with the coastlines, and in doing so he'd found that the cities were hardly doing better than they were. The monsters were attacking Tokyo, a bold proclamation that in any reasonable era would be akin to war, but how do you fight something that is both seemingly endless and invisible till it wishes to be seen? The news crews on hand had been butchered, and the Tokyo news networks cameras were unfortunately fixed on one of the reporters being turned into a happy meal a few short meters away, and one was blissfully painted towards the Tokyo skyline away from the death and destruction that had already transpired, and from what was to come.

Zato happened upon a large swath of Hollows, more than a dozen who seemed to be ripping the news team limb from limb as he decided to leap into action. His eyes were cold and focused, these beasts were dangerous and taking them lightly would leave him in the same dead demeanor of the bodies currently littering the ground before him. In the past several months, Zato had become almost sickeningly familiar with the smell of blood and death so this current moment didn't phase him like it would've maybe a short few months prior. His first leap would lead to a kill, a simple vertical slash had separated a lower-class Menos from it's mortal coil in an instant, and served to get the attention of the others.

This of course suited Zato just fine, and he would quickly Blur forth propelling himself through the air with his swords outstretched to cleave a pair of heads in two. With 11 Hollows left, one could've forgiven Zato for thinking he was in for an easy victory. That was of course, until someone else seemed to be approaching the scene to turn the current allotment to a round dozen..

She slowed up as she reached the melee and the bonfire of blood and death and energy grew brighter. Now that she was nearer, she could pick out the scent, the taste, the texture of another flavor of reiatsu amidst the Hollow soup. This aura was lighter, brighter. Not one burdened with the heavy black blood of sins that lesser Hollows were, but it also wasn't bland, farm-raised meat like the average bite of any given person in this city. It was one of those Special Meats. The type of meat that fights back.

Constraining her presence as much as she could - which actually wasn't a lot - she took up a perch at a distance and watched this madman work. Fighting with three swords, it was too late to really 'save' the News crew, but he was fighting as if lives were hanging in the balance all the same.

As the number of Hollows continued to dwindle, the Arrancar's boots clicked on the pavement as she made her way over to the grisly remains of one of the camera men. There, on its side, one of the cameras was still running and feeding back somewhere remotely. Attached to the grip of the camera was a hand, severed about mid-forearm. The fingers still holding on tight with white-knuckled intensity.

She lifted the camera up and rested it on her shoulder, a bit of blood and some other strange bits dripping down off of the side, and she aimed it at the action, the fight taking place before her. Zato and his prey. As much as she was holding her spiritual pressure back, it wouldn't take long for someone of her strength to scramble this broadcast and accidentally destroy the camera. In a baritone but feminine voice, and in her best Osaka-ben accent, she cleared her throat and began to speak. "Although a mysterious stranger comes to our aid, all is lost. Do not look for us. Hide. This is Tokyo News 8, signing off. Forever."

Just as the camera begins to give out under her spiritual pressure, she pries the severed forearm off of the grip and wiggles it in front of the camera lens a few times, making some faux-dramatic, clearly fake screaming noises. And then she tosses it to the side, where the broken thing comes to scraping halt until its power source gives out and the broadcast goes dark.

Hands on her hips, she waited for the attention she was due.

Oh wonderful, another guest that seemed to have a flair for the dramatic. In a way, Zato was thankful that the woman had opted to do her macabre and otherwise lurid performance while he was occupied with these other Hollows. Her involvement in this particular scuffle would've made it a lot more interesting than it needed to be, and as the last of the Hollow's faded to whatever hell it was meant for it seemed that the woman had grown to expect a new audience. "Did you practice that theater routine before you arrived or was it improvised? The screaming was particularly realistic for a monster, you practicing for your swan song tonight?"

Zato would smirk, spinning his blades around for a moment to flick the blood off of them as he felt his muscles tense-up with anticipation. This woman was beyond his power, that much was obvious but he couldn't exactly run. If he did, this whole area would be overrun and that just wasn't something he was going to allow to happen. To die here would be one thing, but his pride was never going to let him surrender the city to these monsters.

It was with that in mind that Zato sprung forth into action, his trio of blades all gleaming under the remaining lights of the city as he used Blur to close the gap quickly before launching a 3 way cross slash with some fairly heavy force behind it. "Fall apart, Oni Giri!"

The option of the high road was open to her; to engage in sophisticated warrior-poetry with her worthy opponent, as he claimed she would die here tonight. And going right past that high road was one of Safira's favorite pass-times. A much lower road was available to them both, one full of shit-talking and devoid of rules. The way combat was meant to take place - two people dedicated to getting the most out of each other until one of them literally died.

Zato leapt into the air with a blur and she could see his steel more clearly than the man himself. A wicked grin claiming her face, she reached behind her back for her Zanpakutou and ripped it free from its unassuming sheath with an appropriate fluid motion. This guy was quick, and he must have considerable upper body strength if he was able to swing around three swords like this. Two would have been gaudy enough.

Stepping into the swing, Safira got inside the arc of his strike and put her own weight into blocking the attack, her blade held up vertically and supported with her hand safely against the backside of it. The sounds of steel on steel would make any warrior's heart race, but this clash was particularly savage sounding as his three blades scraped against her one. As a wave of pressure burst out from around them, they became locked for a moment, their faces up close now.

"Don't be silly, little boy." Her biceps and forearms flexed with significant intensity as their clash was locked, and that wicked grin came right back. "That was your last chance to ever hear a woman scream."

Well this was certainly not the result Zato was hoping for.

Zato clenched his jaw around his blade and his eyes focused in on the woman as best they could. This woman was more powerful than Zato, that much was obvious but this was hardly the first time he'd been in a situation such as this one. Better still, it seemed that other beings were fighting Hollows around the city, so maybe if he could just.. hold out until they arrived.

That was no way to think of a fight. Zato would be giving this his all and if he couldn't pull it out in the end then he simply didn't deserve to. Zato would listen to the woman speak, her voice held not a bit of fear for the results of a conflict such as this. She'd no doubt done this dozens, if not hundreds of times in her lifetime and if she was still here the odds are she'd won every single one of them. She held not the slightest hint of fear in her voice, her confidence was in and of itself forboding as Zato found himself truly fearful for the first time today. Zato would pull his blades forward, separating himself from the woman as he Blurred backwards with his blades crossed in front of him. "I've heard plenty of women scream due to the acts of monsters such as yourself. If you're the last one I hear I'll be better for it but.."

Zato would in an instant close the gap again, pressing his blades against hers to gauge her strength against his to truly see if she was unmovable for him. "If yours is the last one I hear.. I'm gonna try to get it out of you one more time. Die!"