I am now an instrument of violence
I am a vessel of invincibility
I cannot leave this undecided
Stepping down to battle another day
XXX
(GRIMMJOW POV)
Once, many, many years ago, I may have portrayed a human. I may have breathed like a human, felt emotions like a human, and maybe even loved like a human. But now, now… all I am is a vessel for killing. I don't remember much of my past life at all, now all I remember are the days of solitude I endure without pain for my master, my general. It's not like I do this willingly, more like unwillingly being made into this…thing. Wait, scratch everything I just said. I do have emotion. I have anger. It was my friend.
Who damned me to this pitiful life of hell? None other than the bastard himself - Aizen.
Aizen was our leader, our owner, and most of all, the man who held all of our lives in the little fucking palm of his golden hands. He told us everything about our target, or our fighter, including weak spots and off of that shit, and then used us to kill off his enemies one by one. The only enemies he knows of and doesn't kill are us, because he knows we won't lift a finger to his little pussy ass. It annoys the living hell outta me. But I am to do nothing, because if I do, I will be the next one on his hit list.
But secretly, I cheer for the people who stand against him and live.
Yes, someone, and only one, lived while he stood against the brunette. His name is Ichigo Kurosaki. I fought him once, and yes, he beat the living daylights out of my ass. I was a bit happy that he did.
He became my new idol.
Whether he knew this or not, I didn't care. Of course I kept this shit secret too. If Aizen found out even a little bit of how I secretly cheer on the orange haired volcano, my head would be on the chopping block faster than I can say 'kiss my ass!' And I did wanna say that to him. Very bad. But if I did, of course, I would have another beating, and this time, it wouldn't be mediocre. I would be dead. Still though, I fight on, making myself better so I can fight Kurosaki again. I want to – he gets my blood going so easy. Everyone in this underground facility of Aashrith (ruler) knew that he was rebellious and striking, and no matter how many times Aizen tries to discipline him, his will never break and he keeps fighting on. And Aizen wouldn't kill him. Fuck no; he's too valuable for that shit. I and he are the REAL ones who make his money. Not any other weak-ass fighter.
Fuck, maybe I only like Kurosaki because of his will, maybe because of his strength, maybe because of his stubbornness and defiance, but all I knew was that he was real. He wasn't some joke or imitation that Aizen conjured up in his stupid-ass scientific mind. But I knew his emotions were real.
Remember me for all time
This determination is a vital part of me
Surrender now or be counted
With the endless masses that I will defeat
Someday, I was going to escape from Aizen's snotty little clutches. I would break free from the chains I was constantly consumed in, and if heavenly possible, take Kurosaki with me. But who the hell cares why I feel this way? I didn't know why even. But, my hopes were always crushed by my own reality, because I knew it would never, ever, come true. I mean, who the fuck can get away from Aizen? Not even Bruce Lee or Chuck Norris, and they were fucking legends. If anything, if it were even possible to escape Aizen, it would be Kurosaki that did it. Everyone knew this. And they accepted it.
XXX
Currently, I was facing a woman. She looked like a total Dyke, but who was I to judge? She was just fighting for her life, just as much as we all were. I'll give her the fact that she was strong – because she really was. Just not strong enough to me. Unlike her, I use my spare time going out on missions to the outside world to kill people, hurt them, or threaten them. I didn't know who had it better, either. Me or them.
She delivered a kick to my side.
I took it, pulled her foot, and slammed my head into hers.
She stumbled back.
I slammed her face into the wall of the pool-like structure we were fighting in.
People cheered.
I sneered.
Stupid, annoying, cunt-licking assholes.
I don't know how live people deal with this shit. I'd like to see them get into this damned ring and right for their life. See how long their shit will last.
As I fought, I thought of things. I always did. To get my mind of the fight; I needed to do that to win.
Which brought me back to the fact no one would end up living in this fucking cage of a life, no one on the outside world. No soldier, no warrior, not person remotely human. I told you, I was a vessel for killing. I was nothing. I was a toy. There was no give in my chest, it was as hard, or possibly harder, than a rock, and I was tall, and I could face stamina like no other. Besides Kurosaki. He was a totally different story indeed.
Kurosaki had stealth. He had quickness. He had strength. He could use any weapon given to us, and work it expertly, much like his hand to hand combat. He made me feel alive again. When I ever fought him, which wasn't usually, I always kept my mind on the fight. I watched his body slip and move, but then I lost track of it as he beat the living shit outta my life. The one reason we don't usually fight is because neither of us can die. Unlike this chick, who was losing her life quickly. She almost looked happy. Fuck if I care.
Another kick was delivered to my side. It hit, in the exact same spot, making me cough slight blood. I ignored it.
A punch to the bottom of the jaw. I just barely deflected it, and countered it with a sweep of my leg, making her fall to the ground in surprise. An agonizing howl was lt out from her as she landed on her broken\dislocated arm, twisting it into a way not able to describe.
I smirked. She would die soon.
Come on bring it, don't sing it, better believe it
Broken down till your hope has died
Beat down 'til victory's mine
Stand up and show me some pride
And now are you ready?
I then take a deep breath. I picture Kurosaki just then, fighting me to the death, and I can't help but pause a bit. Quickly covering that up, I sent a quick jab to her hip, sending the legs that held her up to crumble slowly and painfully down, now un-able to work. I give a round of applause to her for not crying out at the immense pain I was sure she was in. my own intense blue orbs send her a look of pity, and agony, as I glance at her. Ever so slowly she nods to me, signifying to finish her off. It sounds as if she got tired of all this shit too.
All of it.
My leg lifted.
It rose to meet her neckline.
I spun around.
Her body slams directly into the concrete blood, smearing it with a heavy coat of crimson blood. I then raise my arm, wiping of the heavy sweat I consumed through my nose and my lips, and sighed. The crowd, those ignorant people in the crowd, cheered me on as if I was a god. Hardly. I am destruction. I am something, unlike many others, except maybe Kurosaki. He was just like me. And maybe that's what attracted me to him, the way he was almost exactly like me. He was a monster.
But I was worse.
XXX
As I cleaned the blood myself from the room I was in, I heard the slight sound of someone slipping into the door. I didn't glance back at the person, even though not knowing who it was, but I spoke.
"What the fuck do you want?" I say gruffly as I continue to sew through my wounds, like it caused me no pain. It didn't, really, I got used to it a long time ago. Now all I feel is the slight indulgence of the pin sticking in and out of me, sealing my body and showing who I belonged to. Why I couldn't die. It made me sick.
"That was a very impressive show there, Grimmjow." I heard the silky, baritone voice speak, before I realized who it was. My body froze as I recognized it, and ever so slowly, I turned to meet shining, yet hollow and beaten, yet strong and willful, brown eyes.
"Not any better than the usual." I sneered, almost disgusted in myself for killing another person who was beaten and forced into fighting. I was glad, somehow, every time I killed someone. It meant I ended their misery. And yet, I'm still alive, fighting another day in the place of fighters and fighters before me.
"True." Kurosaki stated, as he closed the door behind him, making his way over to me in my room.
"Now I ask again, what the fuck didja want, Kurosaki?" my voice betrayed how excited I was. As usual, I wanted to know what he wanted to do with me, but at least I betrayed my thoughts into confidence. I didn't need Kurosaki going and thinking I was a weak shit. Not that he would think I was – with all the killings I have encountered. Fuck, I don't even think he views himself above me. Even though he is.
Kurosaki smirked in my direction as he took the initiative to sit down on my beaten, ripped, and torn tan couch. I could hear the springs retracting against his firm ass – the stupid things are probably uncomfortable for him. "I want to get away from Aizen." He spoke sullenly. I almost cackled. Get away from Aizen? What the fuck does he thinks he'll do to fool that dickhead?
I settled in for a small laugh. "The fuck? It ain't even possible!" I say, raising a brow at his stupidity. As much as I'd like to believe him, I knew it wasn't going to happen.
"Oh, but it is." Kurosaki spoke seriously. He motioned for me to sit down, but I only stood there dumbly as I pondered his words. It is possible? Fuck. It isn't. even as much as he'd like to believe it is, it just isn't. The fighter motioned again, this time more angry, glaring at my form as he told me with his eyes to sit.
I did.
"How?" I spoke before I could even think. He looked just so sincere – there must be a way. Or maybe, I'd just die trying. Well, at least it'd be for Kurosaki.
Kurosaki's eyes lit up at my answer. He looked like I kid no Christmas now, all cheery and shit. I don't even know why.
He may be strong, but damn, he's one helluva idiot.
Kurosaki scooted closer and moved his voice to a whisper. "There's this tunnel, out in the arena, which reaches around the whole entire town. Eventually it moves to the sewers. It was made from the old prisoners that escaped, and it's so complicated that only a few people know how to actually get through them. Call it a labyrinth, if you will. I need you to stage me in a fight, and we can both make our escape as soon as the guards pull off and the glass is risen for our fight." He explained to me. I nodded in understanding. I heard about those tunnels, but I always thought they were a common myth.
"How do you know this?" I ask Kurosaki while leaning back to stare accusingly into his eyes. A smile plays on his lips.
"Let's just say…my family isn't the cleanest of all of those little bastards out there." Kurosaki stated mysteriously. I narrowed by eyes, but didn't question it. It was his own personal shit, and I didn't need to get into it,
"Why are you taking me, out of everyone here?" I state curiously, my brow furrowed. "There are plenty of idiots in here easier to sneak out. Like that one guy, Kaien is it? Not half as bad as me." I roll my eyes, thinking the odds. I mean, who the fuck can miss orange and blue headed men running around? Shit, man, what an idiot.
"Because your special." He didn't elaborate on it, but I saw something in his eyes that I couldn't identify. My eyes, now slits, accused his own more, demanding answers. He only smiled. "I want you to get Aizen to let us fight." He told me in a calm voice, looking me directly into the eyes with his fiery orbs of steel. I let a smirk slowly, ever so slowly, crawl into my lips.
"On one condition." I state, a large smirk pulling onto my dried skinned lips.
He raised another delicate eyebrow, this time questioning and not amused. "And that is?" he stated, while he licked his own lips unconsciously.
I chuckled. "Then kiss me."
…
To say he was shocked was an understatement. He looked at me, his big, doe, innocent as can be eyes the size of plates, a thin blush adorning his tanned features as he took the silence to gather his thoughts. I couldn't blame him, what I was asking was seriously absurd, and to him, maybe even disgusting. Maybe he didn't even want to go on with the plan now, that….yeah, you get the fucking point. It was a stupid thing to ask. Gusty. And very, very stupid.
The orangette that I have been looking at for the past minute opened his lips once, then shut them, then opened him again. He didn't look like he knew what the fuck to say. For his credit, I wouldn't know either.
But then, he did something completely and utterly shocking.
He leaned in on the couch; his blush deepening as he coated his lips with saliva to keep them wet, and ever so slowly, kissed me. His lips, warm and soft, felt like heaven as they reached mine in a desperate, (and good I mind you) attempt to kiss me. You could tell he had never did something like this before, because it was sloppy and not at all in sync, but he didn't seem to notice it as he slowly began to move his lips against mine. After a few seconds, he got the hang of it, and began to kiss rapidly, as he body moved to straddle mine on the couch. I wondered if he knew I could feel the desperateness in him. I wasn't too keen on asking him, either.
His strong, toned arm draped around my shoulders as he continued to kiss me, softly, and not rushing. Maybe even shyly, I couldn't tell. All I knew was that it felt good, and so right, to be next to him like this, claiming his mouth at what was going to be mine in a VERY short time, and my hands on his hips rubbing circles to calm him down.
Before I knew it, Kurosaki pulled away, and looked me directly in the eyes with a satisfied, plump, lusty stare. Before I could say anything, he buried his face into my neck, hoping to get away from my looks as embarrassment took over him. I smiled gratefully. He was just too cute.
"Ya don't gotta be shy, Kurosaki." I state, almost smugly, as I wrap my arms around his waist. He guffawed.
"Yes I do. And stop calling my Kurosaki. It's annoying." He mumbles into my shirt dejectedly.
"Tell me, that yer first?" I ask him. He doesn't answer right away, but then he slightly pulls back to look me in the eyes.
"The first willing one." He states, but doesn't elaborate. I already have an idea of who it may be that took away his first kiss. Probably Aizen, and that gave me the creeps. But then I thought, it was Kurosaki…*cough* woops, Ichigo, that I was kissing, not Aizen.
I grin at him. He ever so slowly smiles back at me from his view of my twinkling eyes. "I'm glad." I state, trailing my index finger along his tailbone.
"So am I." he told me shyly. It was almost a whisper. I grinned triumphantly. He hit me in the chest. Hard. I ignored that and continued to grin. He scowled darkly, and glared at me, trying to pull off. I didn't let him go. Why would I, when I just got him?
"You-"
"Arrogant, cocky, sexy bitch?" I call out playfully, tickling his sides. He starts to spasm, and laugh at the same time, causing us to end up tangling into an all out wrestling match on the old carpet floor I own. A few punches are thrown my way carelessly, which I easily deflect, soon pinning him to the ground while we pant ruthlessly as he smile(him) or grin(me) at each other.
"You bastard." He shakes his head at me, still smiling, his usually cold and stone face now lit up in true emotion. And I guess mine was, too, for once in my life.
Maybe, just maybe, Kurosaki could turn me into something other than an instrument of violence.
Maybe, even, perhaps, a human being.
