Since I'm also writing three other stories, I don't know if I'll ever finish this. Maybe if I get enough review. This was just an idea I had that kind of got away from me. Like my story "Last Name".
Disclaimer: Tite Kubo owns everything. I'm just a poor college student that doesn't want to work on her homework.
Masters
The Arena
The heavy cell door was thrown open, slamming loudly against the mold covered stone wall. Firelight illuminated the stocky figure standing in the open doorway, giving them an ethereal glow.
The occupants of the previously locked room had jumped at the sudden entrance. A few started to cry. A few started coughing, the sudden surprise aggravating their weak, wet lungs. Most simply stared at the figure with dead or fearful eyes. They had been here far too long to have any hope that any type of savior would come.
The stocky man was dressed in poorly fitted black, worn leather, studded with slightly spiked metal, to inflict pain and discomfort should anyone get close enough to feel. Not that they would, willingly. He stunk like a latrine and looked even worse. Apparently, in his youth, he had contracted smallpox. It had left him with scars and a horrible disposition.
He had a whip hanging from his belt and a pair of small metal cuffs handing on the other side of his very large waist.
"Kenta! Furiku! You're up!"
Two teens, equally dirty, neglected, and scarred, stood up and walked over to the man. The taller of the two had dark hair, unhealthily pale skin, and dark eyes, devoid of any hope or rebellion. He wordlessly held out his hands and the adult slapped his scarred wrists in one of the pairs of cuffs he had been carrying.
The shorter had spiker white hair and ice-blue eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness. His skin was even more pale than the older boy's, making him resemble a ghost. The other pair of cuffs was slapped on his similarly scarred wrists, but he stifled a wince as the older man handled his with more force, pinching his wrists.
The adult roughly shoved both of them out the door, slamming it shut and fastening the thick metal locks in place before pulling out his whip.
"Hurry up!" He shouted, emphasized by a crack of the whip. They both flinched at the loud crack but quickly stumbled along the wet, stone corridor, illuminated every now and then by a torch fastened to the wall. The man cracked the whip every now and then when they stumbled or when he felt they were going too slow. A few times, the whip landed on one of the teens, causing them to either yelp in pain or bite their lip hard to not make a sound.
The reached a stone stairwell that matched the rest of the dank dungeon decor, and without hesitation and another crack of the dreaded whip, they started to climb.
The heavyset man started panting soon, desisting of the whip-cracking in favor of using his hands to haul his large body up the steep stairs. The teens didn't laugh at him, even though he was sweating profusely and had his tongue handing out like a dog. They both knew what would happen if they did.
They reached the top and passed through an open door that matched the previous one, pausing in the large room for the man to catch his breath and close and lock the door.
"Took you long enough, you tub of lard!" In the large room, men sat around a large table in the middle, dressed in the same metal-studded black leather as the one called 'tub of lard'. They all carried whips on their belts, and were lounging on their chairs, drinking bad beer and playing cards.
"Shut up, Takeshi!" The fatter man growled. The men laughed at him. He took his anger out on the closer of the two teens, the white-haired one, but kicking him hard, sending him sprawling on the floor. "Get moving, Furiku!"
He struggled to rise, his mobility limited due to the manacles. When they were both standing they hurried forward, not wanting to test his patience (or lack thereof) any more.
After another five minutes of walking, passing a few more black clad men, some even leading other young children that looked just as bad or worse than the two teens. They all walked with shuffling steps, head down, not making any more noise than they could help.
They finally arrived in a dark tunnel, a heavy metal gate blocking the way out. Sunlight was visible through the gate, and a noise like shouting and cheering.
"Hey Shichiro." A very ripped man stood next to a lever, staring out through the gate with a bored expression on his face. The heavyset man, Shichiro, grunted in annoyance.
After a few minutes of silence, the burly man spoke again. "You know, having these kids fighting is kinda demented, you know?"
"What?"
"Think about it. Their kids but we have them fight for their lives on a regular basis just for the heck of it."
Shichiro shrugged, not caring at the morality of his decisions. "Their slaves and rats either way. This way we give them a roof and a meal every day. Better than most." He rationalized. Neither of the adults saw the look the two teens shared. Neither of them would consider these circumstances as 'better' than anything.
There was an extra loud noise, some groaning and some cheering. "Looks like this fight is over." The muscly man pulled the lever, allowing another adult to lead a bloodied and limping child, probably around 8 or 9, through the now raised gate. The adults all nodded their heads to each other in greeting before the third man walked away. The two teens bowed their head in respect, not to the adults, but to the limping and staggering child. He might have won the battle, but with wounds like those, he might not make it to the next.
"Are they fighting each other, do you know?"
Shichiro shook his head. "I think they're for the tiger." The teens looked at each other, fear in the eyes of the taller one, determination in the eyes of the shorter.
Shichiro unlocked the manacles and roughly shoved the young boys through. The ground was dirt instead of the stone inside. They blinked as they tried to adjust to the blinding sunlight.
"And for our new contestants, we have Kenta, known for his overwhelming strength and one of our longest lasting fighters, along with the strange Furiku, undefeated to this day and has been fighting in the Arena for so long, even I've forgotten when he got here!" This was met with laughter and cheers, even some boos.
The announcer was in a box like podium, half-way up the rows of seats that circled the entire dirt fighting area. He was speaking into a small box-thing on a stand that carried and amplified his voice so he could be heard over the sounds of the blood-hungry crowd.
"Place your bets folks!" He called as another large man in black leather approached the two kids and threw down a short knife at their feet, before quickly walking back to the very heavy door on the side of the wall that prevented those in Arena from reaching the crowds.
"Today's exciting challenge against the unbeatable team will be a ferocious, angry, starving tiger!" This news was met with more cheers. The white-haired boy, called Furiku, quickly snatched up the small blade. They tuned out the sounds of the crowds and the announcer who was trying to pump up the crowd to making the largest bets.
"How should we do this, taicho?" The taller and older boy named Kenta asked, fear still evident in his eyes.
"Have you ever fought a beast before?" Furiku's voice was deceptively deep, not belonging to such a small young teen. Kenta shook his head.
"I have. It's fairly simple. With two, it's much easier." He quickly assured the other boy. "With something like a tiger, it's main assets are its speed and agility. What we need to do is get behind it and then climb on its back. A quick stab to its neck might work but if you can get its eye or something more direct that's better since the knife is so short." He glared at the offending blade.
"How are we going to do that?" Kenta asked with wide-eyes.
"One of us will be the distraction. The other will come up behind and either grab the tail so the first can attack the front or just jump on the back to attack."
"Which should we do?"
"Either one. Whichever we get the opportunity to. The problem with beasts is that they're slightly harder to guess how they're going to react. Whichever one has the knife and an opportunity needs to take it, no hesitation." His teal eyes gave the older boy a firm glare. Kenta nodded.
"You're faster. You have the knife first. I'll distract it."
They didn't get any further in their discussion because at that moment, there was a loud cheer and the sound of a gong that indicated the beginning of the battle. The both faced the opposite end of the Arena where another metal gate was opened, and a large orange and black feline stalked out, snarling at the tumult of sounds and smells that assaulted its senses.
Kenta swore colorfully. "That thing is huge!"
"Focus!" Furiku snapped. "We need to end this quickly! They have way more endurance than us!" Kenta nodded in understanding, getting into a more defensive pose.
"When I say, start running that way." He gestured to the left of Kenta, away from him. The large cat had spotted them and was stalking slowly closer. "Make noise to draw it to you. I'll circle around." Kenta barely had time to nod in affirmation before Furiku shouted "Now!" and he shot off to his left, shouting and waving his arms. Furiku stayed still, allowing the older boy to draw that cat's attention and turn towards him. Quietly but with haste, he crept up on the now back of the tiger, knife clutched firmly in his hand.
He was only a few meters away before the tiger suddenly jumped a full 180 and snarled at Furiku who had frozen as he stared into the cat eyes.
Smart cat, he thought to himself, narrowing his eyes as he glared at the cat. He could have sworn the cat was smiling at him, mocking his attempts to sneak up on it.
Kenta, who had seen Furiku's plight, swore again and started to run towards the cat, who now had its back to him. His adrenaline was coursing through his veins, temporarily overwhelming his fear that tried to get him to run away.
The tiger had lifted a large paw, to strike down the tense boy, when it let out a large roar. Someone had just yanked on its tail. With another bound, the cat was once again facing the opposite way, inches from the taller boy that had fallen when the tail had been yanked out of his hands.
Mouth open and teeth glimmering in the sun, Kenta knew that his torturous existence was over. His eyes widened as he realized his impending doom.
But it didn't come.
The second that the large feline had turned its back, Furiku had taken a might running leap and landing on its back. Instantly, the tiger started to buck and jump. The knife went flying in favor of a stronger hand-hold. It took everything he had to hold on, the jumps rattling his thin and malnourished frame down to his bones.
Now that I'm here, what do I do? He gritted his teeth, riding out a particularly sharp jerk that almost caused him to fly off. The tiger's growls and snarls were loud in Furiku's ears, promising a very painful death when he would undoubtedly fall off.
"Taicho!" He barely registered Kenta's shout. He saw, in his blurred and jumbled vision, the older boy making a throwing motion. Not a motion, he was actually throwing something. There was a glint as the knife reflected the midday sun.
One in a million. One in a trillion. There was no way that a desperate throw would be caught by a wild-tiger-riding boy who couldn't even see straight. Knowing that he was at the end of his strength and that this was the only chance he had, as insignificant as it was, he reached his hand up in the air.
And caught the knife.
He caught it in the middle, the blade cutting his hand. Wasting no time (as he had none) he didn't even bother adjusting his grip, leaning forward on the bucking tiger and stabbing the exposed blade straight into the left eye.
The roar reverberated around the whole Arena. Furiku was tossed off the back, having lost his grip when he stabbed the eye. He landed with a thud, the wind knocked out of him.
"Taicho!" Kenta came running up, wary of the thrashing cat who was trying to bat the knife away put roared in pain every time it touched the hilt. "Are you okay?"
Fukiru gasped wordlessly, seeing spots as he tried to take in air. Kenta looked nervously between his fallen taicho and the thrashing, wounded beast.
"Ken..ta." Furiku finally gasped out as he sucked in a lungful of oxygen.
"Taicho! I don't think this is over. The tiger is still alive." Furiku nodded as he sat up, still breathing deeply.
"Then let's end it." His deep voice was softer due to the fall. Kenta helped him stand up.
"How?" Furiku watched the tiger's jerks and yowls as it forcefully expressed its discomfort. Blood was pouring out of the eye, dripping down it's snarling face.
"The knife is probably long enough to hit the brain if we can get it in all the way."
"How are we supposed to push it in? We can't get close. It'll claw us to death!" Kenta's voice betrayed his youth by cracking due to stress and fear.
"We don't have a choice. If we leave it like that, the Masters will get bored and send in another beast or something." Kenta swore again.
"It'll probably hate me. I think it's smart enough to realize which one of us injured it. I'll be the distraction. We'll have to get close enough to its face in order to shove it in. If you see an opening, take it. Avoid its claws." If Kenta wasn't so scared and hyped up on adrenaline, he would have rolled his eyes.
Furiku took a deep breath and rushed towards the cat, Kenta a few seconds behind. He got close enough that he had to start dodging the flailing limbs lest he be gutting by one of the dagger-like claws.
Suddenly, it was like the tiger registered that its attacker was there. It stopped its movements and glared with one eye at Furiku so suddenly that the white-haired boy stumbled in surprise. Then he tightened his posture, tensing his muscles slightly, ready to leap to any side he needed to.
There was a tense moment where they just stared at each other. Furiku could see the hatred in the beast's eye, hatred that he was so used to seeing in every adult's eyes. It didn't even phase him.
Slowly, he slid his foot back a few centimeters. Then jumped to his right in order to avoid the lunge of the feline. He quickly scrambled to his feet and spun to face the cat only to have to jump out of the way again. He got to his feet and put a little distance between him and the tiger. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. It muffled all other sounds. He was watching the tiger's every twitch with laser-like intensity, completely unaware of his surroundings.
Another lunge. Another scramble out of the way.
They played this cat-and-mouse game for a few more agonizing moments. Furiku was out of breath and the tiger knew it. His underfed muscles were screaming at him to rest, his legs shaking as he once again faced off against the beast.
And then Kenta had jumped and latched onto the tail, except this time, it was with his whole body. The tiger gave another roar of annoyance before dragging the older boy as he attempted to knock him off like he had earlier when Furiku was on his back.
Kenta whimpered with every scrape he received (which were large and plentiful) and every time he was thumped hard against the ground.
After what felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds at the most, Kenta was thrown off, rolling painfully for a few meters, dust flying up around him.
The tiger, now extremely angry and in pain, the knife having been flung out during the thrashing, which meant the blood was flowing more freely now, stalked towards the groggy boy, ready to end this once and for all.
Except he never got the chance.
Quick as lightning, a white blur dove under the legs of the surprised cat, but before the beast could do anything, it felt a white-hot flash of pain and would have roared again, had its vocal cords not been severed when the knife lodged itself in its neck.
Or, more accurately, when Furiku, lying in a very vulnerable position between its two massive front paws, jabbed the already bloody knife into the muscular neck of the tiger.
In pain, half blind, mute, and with a sore tail, the tiger gave a silent roar, attempting to flee away from the pain, before collapsing from both the injuries and the blood loss. Its silent cries were ignored as both boys sat up shakily, not trusting their legs to hold themselves up.
After a few seconds of trying to catch their breath and slow their rapidly beating hearts, the sounds of the crowd going wild finally registered in their ears. They blinked and looked up at the stands. Apparently they had been a good show. The Announcer could barely be heard over the cheers.
"…-ievable! It's unbelievable, I tell you! The undefeated duo has once again proven their own, standing up to a wild tiger and winning with hardly a scratch!"
Furiku looked down at his right palm, still bleeding freely from when he caught the knife, then looked over at Kenta, whose scrapes from being dragged by the tiger covered his whole left side and even bled a little. He caught Kenta's eye. There were definitely plenty of 'scratches'.
The gate that the tiger had exited from was lifted and four beefy men carrying spears came out and circled the down tiger, who didn't have the energy to do anything except bare its teeth as they pointed the tips of their spears at it.
One of the men raised his spear to finish of the tiger when he was blocked.
The ice-blue eyes of Furiku glared at the offender with such intensity that he actually took a step back. Furiku was kneeling in front of the tiger, arms spread wide, in an attempt to shield it from its doom.
The men looked at each other, confused at what to do. "Get out of the way kid." One tried to scare the boy away by poking him with their spear. Furiku ignored the fresh cut and subsequent trickle of blood that dripped down his arm.
"The fight is over. Let the tiger alone." He demanded.
"Are you trying to tell me what-"
"Wha's goin' on?" All four of the spear-wielding men suddenly snapped to attention as a fox-faced man with squinty eyes, a huge grin, and silver hair walked into the Arena. "Looks like yer havin' sum trouble cleanin' up."
"Ichimaru-sama!" Ichimaru Gin, Master of the Arena, stood in his bleach-white robes that marked him one of the leaders of the hidden city of Heuco Mundo. He surveyed the scene, catching the death glare from the boy kneeling in front of the tiger, before turning to the man that had poked Furiku.
"Wha's the problem?"
"This boy was trying to stop us from getting rid of the tiger, sir." The word boy was punctuated with a jab with the bottom of the spear to the forehead. Furiku was knocked down but quickly scrambled to his feet, glaring even harder at the man that had knocked him down.
"Careful now. Don' wanna damage the merchandise." His grin never faded from his face. "Aizen-sama wouldn' be too pleased ta hear that. That particular one is great revenue, don'cha' know." He gestured to Furiku.
"Now," Ichimaru turned to address Furiku directly. "Wha's your problem? Yer getting' in the way of business, holdin' up the Arena."
Furiku didn't back down. Instead, he lifted his chin in defiance. "The fight's over. No need to kill the tiger."
Ichimaru's grin grew wider. "We're jus' puttin' it outta its misery. It's not gonna last long with those injuries."
Furiku turned his head to look at the injured tiger lying behind him. Its one good eye stared up at the one that had caused its injuries. He turned back to the grinning man.
"I'll take care of it."
The men, except for Ichimaru, laughed loudly.
"What are you going to do, brat? Feed yourself to it?"
"Fine."
The men abruptly stopped laughing and stared at Ichimaru as though he had grown two heads.
"Sir-" One tentatively started. "You can't possibly be serious-"
He was ignored as Ichimaru continued to address the small boy, his facial expression unreadable. "You will be in charge of feedin' it and takin' care of its injuries. Findin' the supplies and food is up ta you. If you get bit or injured cuz of it, tha's also up ta you. Got it?"
Furiku blinked, surprised that he had agreed so readily, before quickly nodding. Ichimaru's grin widened.
"Wonderful! Men, carry the beast outta here. An' take the little 'taicho' with ya." Surprised, the men gawked at Ichimaru before snapping a salute and calling out a few more men to help them lift the 300-pound tiger out of the Arena. It was too wounded to do anything other than try to growl and twitch its paws pitifully.
"Taicho…" Kenta called out with a frown. Furiku simply shook his head. "It's fine." He muttered, turning to follow after the men as best he could, wobbling slightly on his unsteady legs.
Kenta was led back in the tunnel by Shichiro, Ichimaru watching both of the contestants leave before nodding to the announcer and leaving through his own personal door, one of many that lined the walls of the Arena.
8 pages. 3751 words. This was just going to be a one-shot, just a random idea that I wanted to get down before I forgot. I didn't even get to Karin (yes, she's in this). Review if you like it.