At the end of the day, when it comes down to it, all we really want is to be close to somebody. So this thing, where we all keep our distance and pretend not to care about each other, is usually a load of bull. So we pick and choose who we want to remain close to, and once we've chosen those people, we tend to stick close by. No matter how much we hurt them, the people that are still with you at the end of the day - those are the ones worth keeping. And sure, sometimes close can be too close. But sometimes, that invasion of personal space, it can be exactly what you need.
- Greys Anatomy
Chapter 4
The Urahara shop smelled of bamboo boxes and hard candy. So simple, so honest. And yet, a hypocrite that housed gods of death. Kira Sato woke to a stripe of sunlight wandering down through a window. She was on a futon staring at a ceiling in a cream room with green detailing, sliding doors and a hardwood floor. Half an arms length from her mattress was another.
It was empty. Its pale sheets strewn carelessly aside. They smelt deep. If 'deep' was the word to describe it. There was no ominous flavour, but rather a sense of perception. It was not overbearing or sickly, neither too weak nor too strong. It was somewhere near the centre, but just off.
Kira groaned and crossed an arm over her eyes. She remembered leaving the empty warehouse with an escort of Shinigami. But she had no recollection of actually lying down to sleep. The girl was warm and comfortable. She felt like she could curl up in a ball and drift in an out of drowsiness for the next while or so. Contentment was a pleasure that rarely came around. It was nice.
However, 'nice' never lasted long for an Espada. Her senses shot up painfully as the reiatsu of Shinigami became dense and think around the room, around the building; above and below. Kira lifted her arm off her face and stared at the ceiling, her expression flat.
Once again she had put herself in the hands of the Shinigami and once again they'd got the better deal. Or stolen it, cheated for it and just about screwed the Espada over to achieve it. Rank mattered, they all knew it. If you could put the sixth and ninth most powerful enemies beneath you, then you were above them. It was a safer position that not being in control.
That was it. The Shinigami had control. Damn it. Kira clenched her jaw and hissed lowly. She felt the skin on her stomach tug. The scars were still there. She couldn't imagine that away. Not even if she tried.
Very quickly, The Novena Espada developed a headache.
The door to her room slid open with a hiss. Her reiatsu must have slipped out a bit without her realising. The presence of a very familiar soul caused the hairs on the back of the girls neck to rise. She ran her hand down her arm to stop goose-bumps from forming. It was instinctive, this reaction, it was a reaction to this…boy.
The red-head of Kurosaki Ichigo appeared in Kira's peripheral vision. She turned her face to his. He looked solemn, serious.
"You're awake." His voice was controlled.
Kira's reply was smooth. "Well observed." She turned her gaze back to the ceiling.
"Are you feeling better?" The young man put a hand behind his neck.
"I am feeling more rested, if that's what you mean. I'm still sore."
"Sore?"
"Well, if you weren't able to move for a month or so, you'd be pretty achy too."
"You could move?"
Kira exhaled slowly. "Just because the body is moving doesn't mean you are. There is more to living than being alive, Kurosaki."
"What is your 'more' then? What keeps you alive?"
The girl was silent. "I don't know yet." She met his eye. "You came here for a reason other than philosophy."
"Hai." The business demeanour he took on was swift. "As you are probably aware, you are under constant watch. Soul Society is in discussion about what to do with you. You will be transported to a facility away from here and kept under house arrest until further notice."
"House arrest?"
"Hai."
Kira smiled. "You told Grimmjow that yet? Or have you killed him?"
There was a silence. "He is still alive."
"Then don't tell him he's under house arrest. That's a challenge and a half and he'll defiantly take it on."
"Sato-san?" He sounded personal now.
Kira nodded at him, indicating that he go on.
"Why hasn't he…"
"Why haven't you killed Aizen?" She replied, cutting him off.
The silence that stretched answered every question that followed.
Kira slowly sat up, careful not to pull on her stitching. She'd been laying down for a long time and her bones were against anything else. She forced them in the opposite direction. "I'd like to see him."
Kurosaki Ichigo hesitated a moment before nodding and waiting for the Novena. She stood to her feet with lithe hesitation and then found her sword in the corner of the room. Her shirt was badly mended and her jacket beyond repair. Her hair hung down her back and her long fingers brushed it off her face. She was fragile. Like a willow tree. Like a doll.
And yet, the tattoo on her shoulder said otherwise. Or maybe it just expanded the picture. Kurosaki led the girl to the ladder that led to the cavern below the Urahara store. She descended, her motions becoming smoother as the reiatsu of Grimmjow Jaegerjaques started to move around them.
Another reiatsu was battling his, but it was not as strong, not as destructive and not quite as in need of a venting session.
Kira let her feet find the ground. Her eyes found the figure of the man she had met before, the creator of the torture suit, Urahara Kisuke. He waved at her. The woman, the captain, stood beside him, her arms crossed and her expression harsh. Soi Fon. Or something. Two captains to watch an Espada spar with a vice captain.
Kira didn't say anything to them. Kurosaki stood behind her, his arms at his sides. The girl watched.
A large bone snake roared out of the sky and at a figure standing close by. Grimmjow dodged and the creature crashed into a cliff-face, sending dust and rock flying. He laughed and shot toward the Shinigami controlling it.
"This is your Banki? It's disappointing, Shinigami!" There was a sharp crack as the Espada's fist collided with Renji's stomach.
The Shinigami flew backwards, tumbling over himself before landing in a heap near Urahara.
"Okay, Grimmjow-san!" The store-keeper said cheerily. "Enough today."
Kurosaki moved slightly, as if he were thinking of going to help his friend up. He thought the better of it. The young man noticed the Sexta Espada's eyes on him, but only recently. They'd slipped backwards only a millisecond before. The loathing was evident. The amusement and entwined anger even more so.
"Oi, Kurosaki! What's the Brat doing awake?"
"The Brat woke up." Kira called back. "Asshole." She said under her breath.
The girl had to quickly bring her arm up above her face to prevent it from getting punched in by a grinning Grimmjow. "You're pathetic, Brat."
Kira shoved his fist off her arm. It felt bruised. In a swift movement, she drew her hand across his face. The man laughed brutally and lifted his palm. Revenge was a dish best served cold; but Grimmjow didn't care. His fingers wrapped over the top of the girl's skull and he stared down at her. He would crush her head in a moment. He could. His muscles contracted, clamping down on her in a threatening manner.
Kira crossed her arms and gave him a long suffering look. The laugh vanished as Grimmjow roughly ran his hand over her head before shoving her away. The girl muttered an insult at him before smoothing her hair down.
"You'll live." He said, his smile vanishing and his eyes locking onto Kurosaki. "For now."
0
The small group climbed back to the surface where Kira and Grimmjow stood to one side, Shinigami emerging from all around. The Espada pair had acknowledged each other in a way that no Shinigami or human could comprehend.
Their territory was not under threat from the other, but it didn't mean they liked having them on it. They annoyed each other, got mad and argued with each other; but that's really part of what friendship is. They see through the enchantment without being disenchanted.
"Now that Sato-san is awake, we can officially move you to your new location." Urahara said, his tone bright. "We do not have the facilities here to keep proper watch over you and we need to do that in order to protect the town."
Grimmjow's expression was detached, blasé and uncaring. Kira looked slightly curious. She liked to watch things unfold. The Sexta Espada only liked the unfolded version.
"Soi Fon and her agents will escort you there and you will be placed under constant watch. Your reiatsu must not exceed a functional level and if you intend to move about town, you will do so in a gigai with a tracker in it. If you intend to attend school then you will have to address a Captain. If you are accepted, you will be in the same class as Ichigo and Rukia and you will do so in the gigai and not leave the body until you are back in your accommodation."
Kira stiffened. "No."
"What?"
"Understand this, there has never been an idle day lived in the life of an Espada. And there has never been such an invasion or privacy. And our options, though limited, were not brought down to your methods of detention."
"Eh?" Grimmjow rumbled. "If you think you can control me then you've got something coming to you."
Urahara glanced at the pair. "We will not be actually watching you, simply observing your reiatsu levels. We are aware of rights. Soul Society has expressed interest in you and we would not like to tarnish this relationship."
"Consider it pre-tarnished then." Kira stated flatly. "Remember the last gigai? I cannot trust you now and I will probably never trust you with something like that ever again."
"It is no trap. The one's made for you have no inhibitory applications."
"I don't give a damn. Your last 'living arrangement' for me was in a human hospital in a place I had never been. Ever."
"Sato-san, do you want to understand yourself better?"
Silence.
"Soul Society is interested in whether or not Arrancar possess abilities that can be used against Hollow."
Against Hollow. So they were not Hollow. They were the result of a constant evolution where death was constant but had never resulted.
"You want to experiment on us then?" Kira was rigid.
"We want to see if a connection between your present state and the soul we didn't save still exists. This has never been studied before."
The girl stumbled. She didn't know how to reply to that. She knew she wanted to know as much as they did. It would prove her theories. Her ideas. It would answer her questions. Her life, universe and everything would have a link beyond destruction and darkness. That light at the end of the tunnel might actually lead somewhere.
"You have not yet fully recovered, Sato-san. I encourage you to rest some more." Urahara motioned down the hall to where her room was.
Kira eyed him. She had no use of the room or the people within it anymore. She had to process. So she turned her back on them and walked, completely unaware that Grimmjow had done so half-way through the conversation.
She found him leaning on the wall across from her futon. Kira sat on her bed and took her sword off, placing it on her lap.
Silence.
"Csh." Grimmjow clenched his jaw.
"I know, it's pathetic."
"You're weak. You've lost your touch, Brat. You'd be dead if this was Las Noches."
"This isn't Las Noches." She met his eye. "This is much worse." This was the beginning, the emergence of a new soul in Hueco Mundo. The beginning of the devouring stage. The beginning of the birth pains. You had to fight it, survive it and adapt to it.
"You look like shit."
Kira sighed and lay down, her gaze still on him. "You look very much the same. Pissed off, bored, apathetic somehow all at the same time."
Grimmjow laughed once. "Pray I don't kill you in your sleep."
"Dear God, I pray that Grimmjow doesn't kill me in my sleep." She mocked him lightly.
The Sexta Espada eyed her blankly for a moment. "You'll be fine, Brat. You'll be just fine."
Kira smiled vaguely. "Don't push your luck."
0
The next morning, when The Novena was able to move without a headache forming, they were taken to their new 'accommodation'. It was a very small, two storied house in a suburb of elderly folk who rarely received visits and were stubborn enough not to care. The building was barely a breath away from those on either side. It was skinny and long and coloured a lazy white. It was a quiet, open suburb where eyes could hide without being seen and the watched could not move away from where they were pinned down.
Well played, Shinigami, well played.
There was a kitchenette and a small living room with table, chairs, couch and TV. A small bathroom was attached to an even smaller laundry. Upstairs was a single bedroom with an ensuite.
The house was a flipping matchbox.
Kira turned to Urahara who had followed her up the stairs and into the main bedroom. "There's one bedroom."
"Hai, Sato-san."
"I don't think you comprehend how territorial Grimmjow is."
"I don't see the problem with that if only you are residing here with him."
"I can see numerous problems."
"Trouble with the young couple?" The man was so light even though he should be serious.
"Couple?" Kira stopped in her tracks. "No. We are not a couple." That thought had not even crossed her mind before. Sure, she'd assaulted the Sexta Espada with a nearly-lethal kiss, but that wasn't anything meant for intimacy or closeness. Sure, they were 'close', she guessed, but not intimate. Never like that.
"Well, then, Grimmjow can sleep on the floor or on the couch."
Somehow, Kira doubted he was going to be a gentleman and let that happen.
"There will be Shinigami posted all around and the house will be watched for suspicious movement."
"Hai." Kira crossed her arms and stared at the little room. "You don't have to worry about anything happening."
"Its to late to stop that, Sato-san." Many, many, many thousands of years to late.
The Novena was silent. She didn't look back at the Shinigami. She didn't even look at the empty place where he had stood after he and his comrades departed. The hum of the fridge could be heard from the second story. That was going to get annoying.
Kira wandered down the stairs, her muscles protesting aggressively. Grimmjow sat on the couch, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on an advertisement for health equipment.
Silence.
Humming fridge.
Silence.
It had really come to this.
0
They both knew that they needed to do something. They had to train or fight or wander aimlessly around some endless hallway. They had to eat and sleep and do whatever their personal characters led them to. Kira would read, think and work on her speed and flexibility. Grimmjow would stalk around endlessly looking for prey, he would work on his techniques, he would lay in solitary confinement with nothing in his head; just silence.
She was fluttery.
He was solid.
She was smooth.
He was rough.
Each had their flaws and each had their abilities. But at the end of the day, he was the sixth and she was the ninth. At the end of the day, they were both Espada.
Kira pulled the fridge open, used to the human contraption from her time in the rehabilitation centre, and took out a box of milk.
"Do you want some?" She said lowly.
Silence.
The girl poured the white liquid and put it back in the fridge. She sat on the arm of the couch and held a glass out to Grimmjow. It vanished from her fingers.
It was half an hour in and it was boring. Nothing was happening. Nothing moved. Things just started and ended and space was limited.
Kira decided to explore a bit. She found spare blankets and pillows, various food-stuffs that the Shinigami had maybe thought they'd eat instead of souls – if that was the conclusion they had been running with anyway. There was also a small collection of books, board games and a few movies. It was like a deceased holiday house.
The Novena then struck exactly what she'd been searching for. At the bottom of the pantry was a small cupboard. Inside said cupboard was an assortment of dusty bottles. She tugged a rectangular one out and blew on it. A scrawled script covered its front along with an aged picture.
Grimmjow soon found a new glass in his face. This one with a golden-brown liquid in it that burnt the throat and settled easily in the stomach. His eyes took on a mischievous grin as Kira collapsed on the couch beside him and put her feet on the coffee table.
This was familiar. This was more like what they knew. This was what they carried with them wherever they went. It was a taste of home, camaraderie, it was comfortable. It was what proved their friendship.
"How am I supposed to get back into shape in a place like this?" Kira said evenly.
Grimmjow smiled faintly and disappeared behind his glass. He watched the Novena stretched her arms up above her head, bend down to grab the balls of her feet and roll her neck. She was uncomfortable and sore. She had unmoving scars on her torso and terrors in her head.
It was like they'd whipped her without reason and left her in the rain after they'd picked her up from beside the road and saved her from that particular fate.
And still, the man did not care. She was just there. She was like a shadow. Sometimes she vanished but he'd accepted that she'd never go away completely. It was frustrating, invading, but seemingly unavoidable. If there had been a choice to change it, neither of them knew if they'd make it or not.
Kira stood and pulled her body out by lifting her hands above her head and lifting onto her tip-toes. There was a subtle crack as some vertebrae pulled itself loose. The girl vanished only to be replaced by the screeching of the hot water pipes. The sound faded out to the noise of water.
The Novena stood in the shower, a human object washing her as a soul. The warmth melted the tenderness in her muscles and the ache in her bones. The steam cleared her head. The moment she closed her eyes all she could see was sky. Endless sky and a figure standing over her, blood dripping off his sword, his fox-face grinning slyly.
Kira opened her eyes and blinked the water out of her lashes. The sound of the ocean filled her ears and the smell of hospital soap hit her nose. Just for a second. It was enough. The girl felt her pulse drive up. Her pulse. Her heart driving her faster. Her limbs tingled and her fingers found her throat. It was smooth. They paused and dropped, trailing her ribcage and landing on the jagged scar beside her hollow hole. It had uneven edges.
The one by her hip was just as gruesome, just a different shape. Pain comes in many shapes. It keeps coming. Life keeps creating more. Life. They were living. To feel is to live. Kira clenched her fist, swore lowly and flattened her palm against the floral patterned tiles of the shower.
A loud banging tore her out of her head. "Oi! Brat! Get out!"
"You're not going anywhere, you can wait." She replied, her fingers wrapping around the tap.
"I don't want to wait."
Kira sighed. "You're going to have to."
There was a sharp click and then a gust of cool air. "Sorry, I couldn't hear ya through the door." His voice was sarcastic. "Now beat it."
The Novena was very glad for frosted glass. "Grimmjow, close the door and please be on the other side. I'm not coming out right now."
"Why not?" His tone was territorial. The house was apparently mostly his. Just like his room. Just like her room in Las Noches.
"I'm indecent." Kira replied.
"I've seen you naked before."
Silence. "What?"
"When you were born. It ain't nothing special. Now get out."
Kira felt indignant. "Give me a towel." She held her hand outside the door and waited. She was handed what she asked for. The water stopped and she appeared wrapped in the white fabric. "You're an ass."
"Yeah, yeah. Just get out."
"Its our house. Its not yours. You have to share."
"Sure, Brat. Just make sure you don't get in my way when your time is up."
"You're just doing this because you're bored."
The man smiled smugly. "Your point?"
The girl fumed. This living arrangement was already not working. She slammed the bathroom door shut leaving a very amused Espada inside. The lock was snapped and the room was no longer private. A victory is a victory, no matter how bloody – or not, the battle field is.
0
When Grimmjow emerged from the bathroom, Kira was sitting on the end of the bed, her drenched hair sticking to her shoulders and face. Her clothes were in the bathroom and now damp from the condensation.
Grimmjow tossed them at her and sauntered back downstairs. The doorbell rang. He made no effort to go answer it. Kira pulled her clothes on just as a Shinigami opened the door. It was the white haired captain. His vice captain and the red-head Grimmjow had been fighting before followed him into the house.
"Your gigai are here." He said without introduction.
Kira looked at the two bodies the vice captains held. They put them in the chairs at the dining table, crowding the room, and stepped back. Grimmjow scoffed and ignored them.
The Novena eyed the bodies and then the Captain. "You're a bastard."
He stared at her. "What we did to you was wrong, but in no way unjustified."
"Say that when you've gone through something similar." She turned her face to him. This day was just dandy.
"All you can do without these is sit around this house. If you want to use the space below the Urahara store, you have to go there wearing these and are only permitted to take them off when there."
"Screw you." Grimmjow stated. "If you think we're going to just sit here, bored, you've got something coming to you."
"Excuse me?"
"Entertain the thought. I will be."
Kira agreed entirely. All that kept her from launching across the room and hitting the Sexta was the scarring on her stomach and the weakness she knew she'd obtained. One meter out from the hit, he'd take her down and blow her face off.
Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic.
The Novena opened the door for the Shinigami and waited silently for them to get the hint. They did and left in a tense moment. She slammed the door behind them and looked at the bodies again.
Contraptions is what they were. Horrors. Night terrors. Nightmares. She was not going anywhere near them. For the very first time in her life, Kira was truly afraid of something she knew and that in itself was terrifying.
A moment later, a glass of scotch was under her nose. Grimmjow took a swig from the bottle. Kira snatched it from him and stalked off to the living room, damp, frightened and annoyed.
And dangerous.
She was still the ninth. She was still it. She'd prove it to them. Bastards.
0
Thanks for reading the chapter. I am sorry if it was a bit rough, I did delete chapters 4-6 and re-wrote them at short notice (which is also why this post is a bit later than usual). I would have held off and waited a bit before posting it, but I decided not to. I'd rather have someone point out the mistakes I make and look over (in a constructive manner) and be able to fix them as a writer for future pieces of work. If I acknowledge my flaws, they're easier to deal with.
So please, by all means, point constructive criticism is welcome. I do my best to reply to each review I get.
Again, thank you for reading.
Blessings,
P.