Notes:

I wanted to write out Grimmjow's death, but a take by take didn't seem to fit into Zenith, so here it is as a oneshot. I'd treat it as an AU, to be honest. This story is a reference to chapter 28: Segunda Etapa, of Zenith, but it can be read on it's own.

Assume everyone is speaking Galego or Spanish. The time period is somewhere around the 80s.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, or story image, that's straight up from the manga, and I'm definitely not Kubo Tite. This takes place in fantasy land, any gang references or names may be based in reality, but the content is entirely fictional. This is by no means a history lesson, this is a work of fiction for funsies.

Ganbari masu!

Irmán

Pride will always be the longest distance between two people.

- xxx -

Vilagarcía de Arousa; Province of Pontevedra, Galicia

A hot wind drew dusty lines through the town. A mule brayed in the distance, and the murmur and clamor of the market was carried on the sea breeze with the scent of fish and salt. It was still early in the day, the market was still in the shadow of the hills, but it was already muggy and hot.

The crowds were still thin, but even if they weren't, no one wanted anything to do with Jaeger. The crowd always unconsciously parted for him. His hair was a shocking shade of blonde among brunette's, he was destined to stand out. If it wasn't bad enough that he was so obviously foreign, it was clear from the ever present scowl on his face and the tattoos littering his arms that he was doing his best to tear himself apart from society.

He spotted Arturo in his usual spot, in a heated, but hushed argument with a man he'd seen hanging around once or twice. Arturo was deeply tanned, dark hair tousled in a way only a morning out on the sea could manage.

The man he was in a disagreement with looked like his kind of people, not Arturo's. He was big and broad shouldered, tattooed, and with a face that had been on the receiving end of too many punches. Whenever Jaeger showed up, the man made himself scarce and he'd never been able to follow him. The town wasn't that big, but it was big enough that you could easily lose someone, and not everyone was a familiar face.

As usual, he got close and Arturo and the man parted. His friend flashed him a stiff smile as he approached, not quite managing to hide his annoyance. Grimmjow's eyes tracked the man as he filtered into the crowd and asked, "Where's the old man?"

Arturo lifted a shoulder in a shrug, hauling the crate he'd stopped in the middle of moving. "His back is acting up. Same old, same old." He dropped the crate full of seafood the rest of the way to the ground, betraying his frustration. He turned back for another. "You gonna stand there or help?"

Jaeger grinned, leaning against the wall. "I'm not just going to stand here, I'm going to watch." He pulled out a cigarette, cupping his lighter against the wind.

Arturo dropped another crate, the distance even higher this time, and the resulting clatter of noise was enough to draw some attention. "Then scram, you'll scare away my customers."

He took a long drag, asking, "Who was that guy?"

"What guy?"

Jaeger gestured in the direction the man had left with a sharp jerk of his head. "That guy, don't be stupid."

Arturo wouldn't look at him. He gave those crates so much focus and concentration he might as well have been staring down into a casket, not a pile of stinking fish. "No one." He used a tone of such forced nonchalance it was painful, Arturo was a shit liar.

"Well obviously he ain't no one, dumbass, or he wouldn't be skulking around. He ain't a fisherman, that's for sure."

Arturo looked flustered, wiping his hands on the front of his jeans. He leaned in close, brows drawn in worry. "Just forget it, okay?"

Jaeger grit his teeth, chewing the end of his cigarette. He let it go, but now he was more than casually interested, he was concerned. Every time he'd seen this guy, Arturo's old man was never around. Which meant he was sneaking around behind his back.

Arturo started to turn away, but Jaeger caught him by the front of his shirt, dragging him back. Arturo's voice dropped, grabbing his wrist. "Look man, it's none of your business."

"I've got something to say! I'm the screwup, not you. Whatever you're into..."

Something sparked in Arturo's eyes, something he hadn't seen there before. Hate.

His friend shoved him off, and Jaeger was too stunned to argue. Arturo turned back to unloading the fish. "Scram, Jaeger, you're scaring away the money."

Jaeger stared at his back for a long moment, took another drag, then threw down the cigarette to crush it under his heel. This might've started as teasing, but now it was backed with real anger. He'd been drifting further away from his friend for years, but it had been instigated by himself until that moment. It didn't feel good.

He turned to go, stepping into the sunlight, blonde hair blazing like fire. It felt too warm for how cold he suddenly felt. Arturo's voice stopped him. "What the hell did you come here for anyway?"

He looked back over his shoulder shoving his thumbs into his pockets. "I'm not allowed to see you?"

Arturo tossed a rag into the back of van, taking a seat on the tailgate. He glared at him, and from the shade, his brown eyes looked black. "You only ever come by when you want something."

Was that true? Jaeger frowned, aware that the last time he'd come by had been to borrow money. He didn't mean for it to be that way. Most of the time even looking at Arturo filled him with guilt, and little by little, he'd stopped visiting.

He swallowed, his throat tight. "Was just gonna tell you I've got a fight tonight. That's all." He thought he did a pretty convincing job of hiding his pain.

It was an important match, he'd wanted him to be there, no matter how stupid he felt about it.

Arturo said nothing, he just glared at him. His opinion mattered, and he'd just given it to him.

Jaeger left before it got even more awkward.

Now he was angry and upset, and he had a whole day of time to kill. He pulled out another crumpled cigarette, chewing on the end. He only had two left, and he didn't have the money for more.

He hadn't gone to Arturo looking for handouts, not this time, but that he'd brushed him off stung.

He put the cigarette back, having some self control, and wandered around town until it got too hot, heading down to the docks. He was stepping onto the pier when he was stopped by a familiar face. He turned on his heel, heading the other way.

Manuel threw his arms out like he was insulted. "Don't be that way, amigo!"

"We ain't friends!" he called back.

"We can talk now or we can talk later, but we're gonna talk, amigo." The mock friendliness was still there, but there was a warning undercurrent.

Jaeger ground his teeth, then paused, letting him catch up. Manuel threw his arm over his shoulder like they were good friends and it made his skin crawl. The man reeked of beer and sweat, but he knew beneath that jacket he was carrying. Ignoring him really would be stupid. He demanded, "Talk about what?"

"You've been gettin' real good in those fight's ain'tcha?" He squeezed his shoulder. "Real good. Word is your little match with Diego is drawing some big dogs. It's gonna be a close fight."

Jaeger tensed, leaning away, but Manuel tightened his grip. He could shoulder him off if he really wanted to, but the threat wasn't a physical one. "Yeah, so?"

"You're going to lose."

He clenched his jaw, his guts twisting in distaste. "If I don't?"

Manuel stopped smiling. "You're going to lose. Oubiña is betting a lot of money against you."

"Why?"

Manuel patted his chest and withdrew with a shrug. "Politics? I don't get paid enough to know that, and neither do you."

Jaeger wet his lips, aching for a cigarette. "I need the money."

Manuel laughed like that was the funniest goddamn thing in the world. "Oubiña will make it worth your while, neno." He gave him a rough pat on the back. "Be a team player."

Jaeger watched him turn to go, shifting restlessly from foot to foot.

Lose.

That word rang in his head like a death knell.

He pulled out his crumpled cigarette, lightning up with trembling hands. He sat on the edge of the pier, scowling down at the water.

The smoke burned his lungs, satisfying his craving, but it was a growing, persistent thing. He couldn't stop thinking about that look on Arturo's face. Like he was scum, unwanted. Hated.

Arturo was under a lot of stress, but his disappointment and resentment towards him felt deserved.

"Fuck…" He flicked the spent cigarette into the sea. It floated there a moment, a fish mouthing at it before it and the fish disappeared into the depths. Gulls screamed overhead, and it felt like they were laughing at him.

This match was a big deal; Diego was good, he was from the city, people knew him. No one knew who he was outside of this shitty little town. All he was good at was fighting. He fought everyone, even when they didn't deserve it; he didn't know why he did that.

Arturo was taking over his father's business, he had a future, skills people gave a shit about. What did he do? Hurt people. He dug in his heels and fought, but for what purpose?

When they were kids, Arturo use to say that he better get good, because his looks were his only redeeming quality. He'd meant it as a joke, but fuck if it hadn't sat with him for years.

He'd always been violent, it wasn't a shock he'd started to fight more and more seriously. He'd found something he was good at, he was proud of himself. He'd started with small jobs for the Oubiña clan. Little things. He'd protect something that needed to get from one place to another, he'd knock a guy around a little, he'd pick up money. Small stuff.

One underground fight was all it took to hook him. He thought he was getting away from Oubiña, but clearly he was wrong.

When he fought, people actually looked at him. They didn't see a thug, or a foreigner, they saw their champion. They cheered for him, they wanted him to win.

And he kept on winning, he hardly ever lost anymore. He was a pantera, o cazador, he fought to win, he was the king of the ring.

Throw the match.

He clenched his hands into fists, his limbs still trembling.

No.

He was the king.

- xxx -

Thanks for reading!

There's going to be 3 short chapters for this one, expect the next soon, as well as the next chapter of Zenith ~

Galician Translations

Neno: kid

A pantera: the panther

o cazador: the hunter