The Heart Pounds

"Kjaftæði!" she yelled across the line of cooks, the Icelandic curse cutting through the noisy kitchen. "That's bullshit and you know it! I don't have two minutes to wait on the sauce! I told you that the halibut was gonna be wearing it five minutes ago!"

"Sorry chef!" the cook yelled back at her from down the line. "It'll be done in a minute chef!"

"Just put it right on the plate!" she yelled as she put the fish on the white ceramic disk. "It's up in the window. Galdur, toss me a clean pan!"

The boy doing dishes turned and flung a sauté pan across the top of the kitchen. She reached up and grabbed it by the handle and brought it back down to the burner. She let go of the handle and reached her right hand into the cooler at her knees, grabbing a puffin breast and slapping it into the pan. She reached out and grabbed the bottle of oil, squirting it into the pan and over the meat. The meal was soon sizzling.

For a woman with only one arm, Soi Fon made one hell of a head chef.

Not like she really needed two arms to cook food. Her years as a servant had drilled the art of cooking into her brain, and her training in the Onmitsukidou allowed her to do, with her one hand, what most people need two for. She hadn't dropped a single item in the ten months that she'd been working in the kitchen. The only thing she had some slight trouble with was cutting vegetables, but she still did a better job than half of the staff.

Getting this job had been easy, even if she hadn't really wanted it. She'd simply waltzed into the restaurant the day she'd gotten to Iceland and demanded it. When the head chef had emerged, he'd tauntingly made a bet with her. He'd challenged her to a sort of cook-off. She couldn't imagine any reason for someone to refuse – a small, Asian woman comes into your restaurant and demands your job. And get this: she only has one arm.

When Soi Fon had completely outdone him, he offered her the job of daytime head chef. Which she figured was fair. He couldn't very well give up his entire store because someone cooked better than him. She'd been forced to cut off her braids because they kept getting in her way, which was something she hadn't been happy about, but she did get a fairly large paycheck every week and the other chefs in the kitchen did everything she told them to. Every day until three o'clock, she was the boss.

It was almost like being a captain again.

"Hey, China-girl!" called Arnmundur, the owner and nighttime head chef. "I'm here now. Go home!"

Without missing a beat, Soi Fon turned away from the puffin she'd just started and walked off the line. Arnmundur stepped in and continued where she'd stopped as she took off her apron and chef's coat, exposing a long-sleeved red thermal underneath. She stuffed them both into her backpack and zipped it up.

She walked out of the kitchen and into the main dining hall, ignoring the looks she got from the customers. Some of them seemed surprised at her ethnicity, while most kept their eyes trained at the bandages that she kept wrapped tightly around what used to be her left arm.

When she reached the bar, she walked past the bartender and grabbed a beer out of the cooler next to him. She handed it to him and he wordlessly opened it for her. He handed it back and she sat down on one of the barstools and she started to drink. It was a red ale, Mori, and she had one after every shift.

"You gonna pay for that beer, Soi Fon?" Arnmundur asked as he walked up slowly, wiping his hands on his apron, her name sounding funny with his accent.

"What?" she quipped, playfully. "I don't get a shift beer anymore?"

"You burned that puffin," he said as he leaned on the bar next to her, "so you have to pay for your beer tonight."

"The hell I did. It was fine when I left. Besides, you seem to have it under control. Out here talking instead of in there working."

"Yes. Well, that's why my name is on the building."

"Oh, I see."

"Speaking of 'my' job," he said, "I'm going to need you to cover Wednesday night's shift for me. I have to go to my wife's parents' for dinner."

"Oh?" she asked. "You can trust me at the helm now?"

"No, but I don't have any choice. It will be a Wednesday, so it'll be slow. I think you can handle it. We'll wait and see."

"Yeah, we will," she said. "You better get back in there before one of those morons burns it down. Hey!"

He stopped.

"While you're up, will you grab my sword from behind the bar?"

He walked around to the other side of the bar and bent down below the countertop. He emerged quickly, Suzumebachi in his hands. He gave it to her.

"There you go, monster killer."

"Thanks," she said as she finished her beer and stood. She turned and walked to the front door, the wakizashi drawing even more stares. She ignored them as she strappeded her zanpakuto across her back and stepped out onto the snowy streets of Reykjavík.

***

Soi Fon had been in Iceland for almost a year now.

It had been about two years since Soul Society had fallen.

While she'd found a place to stay for now, Soi Fon had spent her entire first year of exile running from country to country. She was trying to put as much distance as possible between herself and Karakura town as possible. The entire country of Japan now served as a gateway to Hueco Mundo, with Karakura being the center portal. The whole island was overrun with Hollow. She doubted anyone could live there anymore.

Because of Aizen.

Somehow, Urahara Kisuke found out that Aizen was alive and had orchestrated the entire attack on Soul Society from the shadows. Soi Fon had absolutely no idea how the man was still alive – she'd seen Kurosaki Ichigo decapitate him with her own eyes. But Urahara swore that he could trust the source of this information.

What was he doing? she would wonder sometimes. If Aizen had beaten them, then he surely must have created a way to get to the King's dimension. Yet the world didn't seem altered at all. Outside of Japan becoming a wasteland, almost nothing was out of the ordinary.

Except for the Hollow plague.

In each country she'd been in, almost every small town was completely overrun with Hollow. The larger cities, while not completely immune to attacks, seemed to be spared. Even here in Iceland, Reykjavík was the only area on the island that could be lived in. Everything north of the Esjan mountains was Hollow territory.

It was remarkable to her how few Hollow risked travelling into the more densely populated metropolises; when she had briefly passed through Delhi, the people there didn't even have a clue that the world outside their borders was slowly being devoured. It now seemed as though things were getting worse as time went on. They may avoid the cities, but that didn't stop them from circling at the edges like a moth to a streetlamp.

The entire peninsula that Reykjavík was on seemed to be safe from attack and she hadn't seen a Hollow further west than the 41 in almost two months. In fact, the city functioned as though nothing was wrong. Still, every now and again, one of the beasts would break its fast and charge through the city, looking for a meal.

That's where Soi Fon had decided to step in.

Urahara had given her a new gigai before she'd left his hidden hut in Russia. He'd said he'd based it off the same model that he'd given the Vizards, allowing her to utilize her Shinigami powers without shedding the faux body. This was extremely useful, considering that the gigai had a built-in translator that allowed her to effectively communicate in whatever country she found herself in. Which came in handy when she was asking locals "where did you last see the monster? Which way did it go?" She may not much care for Kisuke, but she couldn't help but recognize his brilliance. He knew that the survivors would be travelling and he'd outdone himself in assisting them.

Not only did this new model of gigai allow her to understand any language, as well as carry her Zanpakuto at all times, she never had to waste precious seconds ejecting herself from the shell. She'd once killed a Hollow that, had she been only a second slower, would have devoured a young girl.

Soi Fon was known around the city as the 'monster killer'. Strangely, a large percent of Reykjavík's population – as well as many other places – seemed to be able to see the Hollow and there had been quite a few witnesses the night she'd killed the first one that had wandered into the town. The stories had spread quickly: the monsters were being destroyed by the young Japanese woman with one arm. She would often find gift baskets from thankful townsfolk on her door step when she got home from the restaurant.

Soi, despite herself, liked Iceland.

It wasn't home by any stretch of the imagination, but it would do.

***

Soi Fon stepped out of Arnmundur's restaurant and onto a snowy sidewalk in Reykjavík. She could tell that spring was coming – aside from being able to walk home without a jacket, the sun was still up. She hadn't seen much sunlight over the past six months. It was always dark outside when she went into the kitchen, and it was always dark by the time she left. Over the past three weeks, it was getting brighter and brighter every afternoon.

The sun was still setting and, while she did enjoy seeing some orange splashed upon this city of white and grey, it was far from full daylight. She was always told by her neighbors to "wait for spring, wait for summer!" They seemed almost apologetic for their homeland's climate, and eager to assure the foreigner that things would look better soon. Soi didn't really mind the darkness, but it was certainly starting to get dull. She began walking west, towards the small apartment she had in Skjól, frowning because she knew the sun would be gone before she even got home. Living in Iceland was, during the winter, a lot like living in Hueco Mundo.

Soi Fon turned her head, looked at the sun setting over the bay and the airport, and sighed.

Grimmjow.

She had no way of knowing what had happened to him. Was he still alive? Did the Espada welcome him back into their ranks? Did he resist and get himself killed? Did Aizen have him executed? After she'd been forced to flee from their battle, after Ulquiorra had sliced off her arm…

Soi Fon stopped walking and struggled to catch her breath. She hated getting emotional when she thought about him, and while she hardly ever did get upset, but not knowing anything about him drove her mad sometimes. She was always thinking about Grimmjow, but sometimes her thoughts turned bad. Lately she'd been having a dream where he killed every Shinigami that had survived the attack, always saving her for last, always laughing when he plunged his blade into her gut.

No, she told herself. He's alive and he's still on our side.

He's still on my side.

She started walking again, her composure recovered. Barely, but recovered. There was a young man around town that dyed his hair blue as some sort of political statement and Soi's eyes would always pick him out in a crowd. Whenever she saw him, her heart would pound in her chest as her hopes soared. The crushing feeling that came with the realization that he wasn't Grimmjow always put her in a foul mood. As long as she didn't see the kid with the blue hair tonight, she would be fine.

"Oh my goodness," came a weaker voice from her right. "I'd forgotten how beautiful you were in the light."

"You're just trying to get me to buy something," she said to Fjalarr, an old man who ran a small produce stand. It was more of a table and a tarp that extended from his front door, but she wasn't about to refuse his goods because of practicality. She always stopped there once a week on her way home from to buy some fresh cabbage and turnips.

"I already know you're going to buy something," he said brightly as she walked over to him. "That's why I can compliment you so truthfully."

Soi Fon smiled and bent down once she'd reached his stand, a small dog running out to lick her hand.

"Hello, Rós," she said as the mutt wagged its stumpy tail and whimpered in excitement. "Hello, girl."

"The usual?" Fjalarr asked down at her, already grabbing the standard three turnips with his right hand.

"Yeah," Soi replied, standing from the dog's reach. "Let me have some of your flatkaka, too."

"I already sold all of it today," he said. "Sorry."

"That's fine. When are you making more?"

"Wednesday."

"I'll buy some then."

"Are you going to go out tonight?"

"I think so."

"Good. My bones have been aching all day. Bad. Must be a big one."

Fjalarr was practically a Hollow detector. His old body was extremely sensitive to the pressure their reiatsu created, and he wasn't ever shy about telling someone that a monster was nearby. While Soi didn't need him to detect spiritual pressures, he was quite a reliable second opinion.

"Yeah," Soi Fon said as she paid him and placed the produce in her backpack. "I can feel it, too."

She walked away as the sun slid lower and into the ocean. A breeze blew in from the bay, cutting through the city's colorful buildings. Soi shivered slightly and quickened her pace. Her apartment was just around the next bend. The day itself might have been warm enough for a long-sleeved shirt, but nightfall was a different story. She didn't want to stay out too long after dark.

She looked up at the purple sky, the clouds pink as the caught the last rays of sunlight. It would really be night soon and that's when she went out to slay Hollow. While she rarely had to exterminate them within the city, she routinely went outside of the safe-zone to spend a night purifying. It was the only time she removed herself from her gigai, just so she could be a real Shinigami again.

If only for a little while.

However, Soi knew that she had to eat before she spent the night butchering Hollow. She had some lamb in her fridge, and there was a recipe she wanted to try with the turnips and cabbage. She turned the corner and saw a woman standing on the sidewalk opposite her front door. She was tall and blonde, her fair skin immediately giving her away as one of the local women. It wasn't uncommon for some of the girls in town to show up at her house. She never really understood why – perhaps it was a role-model type thing – but it was just a part of her life now.

Soi Fon walked past her unlocked the front door, the kidou spell she'd placed on the knob slipping away as she touched it.

"Are you her?" the blonde woman asked. "The 'monster killer'?"

Now that's a first, Soi thought. They normally don't say a word to me.

"Yes," she replied, opening her door, keeping her back to the woman. She really didn't have time to sit and talk with an admirer, as nice as she was sure the girl was. "That's what they call me."

"Why don't they call you a Shinigami?"

The word stopped Soi Fon in her tracks. She turned her head slowly to look at the woman, for the first time noticing that she was also carrying a katana in a light green sheath.

"What did you just say?" Soi hissed.

"I asked you," the woman replied in Japanese, a small wave of reiatsu spilling out as she spoke. "Why you don't have these people call you what you really are, Shinigami?"

The woman wasn't releasing her reiatsu as a threat, but as a statement. She was letting Soi Fon know exactly what she was without wasting a word.

This woman was an Arrancar.

Soi leapt forward immediately, her Zanpakuto clashing with the mysterious woman's. The Arrancar sighed as she blocked the strike, before she vanished in a buzz. Soi Fon immediately turned and slashed behind her, barely missing the Arrancar as she came out of sonído. Soi Fon began to attack again, causing her opponent to block once another punching sound, the strange woman was across the street again, her blonde hair dancing softly upon the breeze.

"Perhaps you should keep yourself calm," she said as people began to poke their heads out of windows and doors. "You wouldn't want to frighten anyone, Captain Soi Fon."

"Who the hell are you?" Soi asked.

"Former Terceira Espada," the blonde woman said, sheathing her zanpakuto, "Neliel tu Oderschvank."

Soi Fon looked at the sheathed sword and lowered her own slightly. "It seems you aren't here to fight me."

"No," she responded, walking past Soi and towards the open apartment door. "I am not. Let's go inside and talk."

Soi Fon flashed forward, placing her body between the Arrancar and her front door. She pointed the tip of her zanpakuto directly at Neliel's throat, her arm as steady as the steel of her blade. The taller woman stopped but did not look surprised at the threat.

"Fuck you," Soi Fon spat. "You're not stepping one foot inside my home until you tell me why you're here."

"Are you sure?" Neliel asked with an extremely pleasant smile. "You're not wearing much and it's starting to get cold."

"I'll deal with the cold."

"But we have so much to talk about."

"And we can do it out here."

"Fine," the Arrancar said, relenting, her voice still sweet despite Soi Fon's dogged aggression. It was almost playful. "If I tell you why I'm here, can we go inside?"

"That depends," Soi said, her voice calm, deep.

"I have a message for you," Neliel tu Oderschvank said. "From Grimmjow."

Soi Fon's eyes widened. She made a small sound in her throat. Her arm fell down to her side, Suzumebachi dangling uselessly in her hand. She felt heavy. Her blood was pumping at light speed. Her legs quivered. Her mind raced.

"Grimm…" she managed to say. "…jow?"

"Come on," Neliel said gently, placing a hand on Soi Fon's shoulder. "Let's go inside."

Grimmjow Jaggerjaquez sat at his desk, his chair leaned back on its two rear legs, his feet propped up and crossed atop the white workspace. There were papers and photographs and maps strewn on the countertop, his black sandals resting on them as though the documents weren't as important to him as they truly were. He was looking up towards the high ceiling and the orange that was falling towards him. He caught the round fruit in his right hand and tossed it back up.

He was ridiculously bored.

For the past two years he'd been a member of Aizen's Neo-Espada, its elite eight members all augmented by the hogyouku to create an extremely deadly killing squad. Yet despite his illustrious position as a master soldier, he hadn't left Las Noches in almost a year and a half. The King's Zero Squad was giving Aizen some unexpected troubles.

Aizen Sousuke was an absolutely brilliant man, going so far as to feign his own death so that he could go into hiding for a quarter of a century. Apparently when Grimmjow and Ichigo had fought him all those years ago, he'd planned on escaping. Even Ichimaru Gin had been in on the plan, despite his incarceration within the Maggot's Nest. Meanwhile, he'd recreated his army with the assistance of the three top Espada. Then he'd used the Vizard's long-standing dislike for Soul Society to form an alliance with his former enemies, effectively doubling the power of his army overnight. Then he'd simply waited in the shadows until Seireitei fell into a state of comfortable vulnerability; within two days, he had been able to completely wipe the Shinigami forces off the face of the map.

Yet despite his genius and power, he hadn't expected that the Royal Guard would be so powerful. After dismantling the Gotei 13, he'd destroyed the spirit-rich Karakura town, created the ouken, and opened a portal to the King's dimension to begin the final leg of his plan to become the ruler of the universe.

Unfortunately for him, the Zero Squad had met him at the gates and battled almost continuously for six months. They had lost almost every Arrancar within their army, leaving only a few of the strongest numeros and eight Espada alive. Even the Shinigami that Ichimaru had released from the Maggot's Nest had been completely eradicated. As far as Grimmjow knew, the Royal Guard hadn't suffered a single casualty throughout the entire assault.

Despite their tremendous losses, Aizen didn't seem worried. Or, rather, that was the word within the walls of Las Noches. Grimmjow hadn't seen their leader in nearly a year; he and Gin and the Vizards remained in Seireitei most of the time, only rarely appearing in Hueco Mundo to issue commands and remind them all that he was still in control.

However, because of this current stalemate between the armies, Grimmjow had found himself doing less fighting and more planning. Research and development, he snarkily called it. This had been fine at first; in his first bout against the elite team of Shinigami, he'd almost lost his arm. Again. Not to mention that, despite his current status as one of Aizen's soldiers, he still held his allegiance with Soul Society. Killing Shinigami seemed counter-productive to him. Alongside Ulquiorra, he was waiting for the moment the Vizards and Aizen slipped up and left themselves vulnerable.

"Grimmjow," came a voice from the door, "shouldn't you be more careful about which maps you leave laying about?"

As if on cue, Ulquiorra Cifer appeared in his room. Grimmjow turned and smirked.

"Is that your way of telling me you've got good news for me?"

"Yes," Ulquiorra said as Grimmjow tossed his orange into the air once more. "Neliel has located Soi Fon in Reykjavík."

Grimmjow caught the falling fruit and stood quickly, excitedly. He looked at his green-eyed companion, his smirk turning into a genuine grin.

"See?" he said as he picked Pantera up from its spot against the wall and tucked it into his sash. "I told you I knew where she was."

"Yes, you did," the other Arrancar replied. "But unless you want someone else to discover her location, I would hide any evidence that would show your interest in that city. I highly doubt that Aizen trusts either of us at all, despite him allowing us to rejoin the Espada."

"Yeah yeah," Grimmjow replied as he scooped up the maps of northern Europe that had been under his feet on the desk. He slipped them into the center of a large pile of maps, all of which he'd studied intently over the past two years in his secret search for Soi Fon. "We wouldn't want Aizen to send out another search party."

"Exactly," Ulquiorra said. "But considering the targets on the one mission to the real world he did authorize, I wouldn't expect him to take prisoners if he sent out another. Soi Fon would be killed if she were found."

Grimmjow looked at Ulquiorra for a moment before turning back to the maps and shuffling them up one more time. If his carelessness caused her to get killed… it wasn't an option. He didn't even want to think about it. When nobody was around, he would absolutely destroy any and all evidence of his search. He then walked out of the room, turning his head over his shoulder and smirking.

"Come on, Ulquiorra," Grimmjow said "We have an appointment to keep."

"Indeed."

The two of them walked down the white halls of Las Noches, the footsteps echoing off the tall ceilings as they headed deeper into the palace.

Grimmjow was now the Quinta Espada, the augmentation he'd received from the hogyouku greatly increasing his abilities. For a process he had been revolted by when he'd first heard about it, he was surprisingly pleased with the results. He still wasn't strong enough to completely surpass Ulquiorra, but, he figured, there were worse things that could happen in life. Besides, he figured that if it really came down to it, he could probably give Ulquiorra enough of a thrashing that neither of them would walk away. Not like he really needed to worry about it too much anyway; Ulquiorra Cifer was one of the three people in this entire dimension he trusted. The second was in Iceland with Soi Fon.

The third they were on their way to see now.

They turned a corner and came upon the Segunda, Barragan Luisenbarn, and the new Sexta, Szayel-Aporro Granz. The two of them stopped talking immediately upon the intrusion, both of their eyes narrowing as their fellow Espada walked towards them.

"Well," said Szayel-Aporro, his large mouth splitting into a wicked grin. "Imagine, the two of you walking and talking together. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen the two of you apart for more than an hour. It's almost like you're keeping secrets from the rest of your buddies here."

"Fuck off, Szayel," Grimmjow said and continued walking. "Don't you have some corpses to molest today or somethin'?"

The pink-haired scientist tittered. "How pitiful is that you must retort with such a childish insult. If only someone of my intellect were appointed to your rank." He tittered again. "Then again, I'm only one spot away. That particular fantasy may one day become a reality."

"Yeah?" Grimmjow asked, stopping to place his hand on his zanpakuto. "You think that day might be today?"

"I think he has a rather good point," Barragan said gruffly, interrupting the two posturing Arrancar. "We get the both of you back within the walls of Las Noches and all you can do is whisper behind closed doors. Don't think that Aizen hasn't noticed your behavior."

"Aizen will do as he sees fit," Ulquiorra said calmly, breaking his silence. "I would think that if he suspected us of conspiracy, he would have killed us already. It would be like swatting a fly for him to remove us."

"If I were you, Ulquiorra," Barragan replied, "I wouldn't assume to know what that man is thinking."

"And were I you," Ulquiorra replied, walking once more. "I would worry less about Grimmjow and me, and more about what will happen the next time Aizen decides to send you against the King's army."

Barragan folded his arms over his chest, the slightest look of insult crossing his normally grimacing face. Grimmjow scoffed and followed Ulquiorra down the hall, his hand falling from his sword to slip into his pocket. In the last attack on the Royal Guard, Barragan had basically been sent on a suicide mission by Aizen. He knew it and so did the rest of the Espada. Barragan's hatred for Aizen was by no means a secret, and it was suspected within the ranks that Aizen had done this as an attempt to eradicate a probable mutineer. The former king of Hueco Mundo had barely escaped with his life, his extraordinary abilities saving him where any other Espada would have perished. His dignity, however, unlike his body, had not regenerated without some lasting damage.

Ulquiorra and Grimmjow were soon walking under the fake sky of the dome, and just as quickly back inside another of the numerous towers that littered the desert landscape. With so many Arrancar dead, the Espada's pavilion had been divided among two towers. One was for the bottom four and the other for the top. Los Menores and Los Grandes.

They were now in the Tower of the Greats.

They ascended the tower, their feet carrying them to the highest floor of the spire. The two of them were soon at the top of the staircase and Grimmjow reached out, pushing open the large white door. They stepped into the room and closed the door behind them, their other partner standing out on the balcony.

"Neliel has completed her mission," Ulquiorra said calmly, "Harribel."

Tia Harribel turned to face the two Espada, her teal eyes regarding them calmly, her blonde hair shining in the artificial sunlight.

"So she made it," Harribel said, walking into the room. "That's good. She and the Shinigami should soon be on the move."

"And you?" Grimmjow asked as he sat down on the large white sofa against the wall, his legs splayed out casually. "What's the deal with your two operatives?"

"They're simply waiting for my signal," she replied, sitting on a chair across from Grimmjow. Ulquiorra remained standing, his hands in his pockets. "Our preparations are complete. We're finally ready to move make our move."

author's note

for all of you guys and dolls wondering about grimmjow and soi fon.

the name of this chapter is the translation of the song below, which, quite fittingly, is in icelandic. (also, if any of you are from iceland, or have been to iceland, and i messed something up... please forgive me. i've never been there, so i tried my best to be accurate.)

thanks as always to jazzpha and matsumama for giving most of this chap the once over. read their stuff, it's pretty good.

until next time

jta~!

Hjartað Hamast (Bamm Bamm Bamm) - Sigur Rós