Chapter XI: Broken

Never in my life had I any problems with sexual harassment; didn't even have the misfortune to deal with it or even bother equipping myself with the necessary defenses against it—until NOW. On top of this, it's beginning to descend on me that I failed to recognize it from the start, from the time I fell over him on the damned fire exit which was donkey weeks ago. There's simply no use trying to identify what could have made me so fucking blind to all his past advances. What would come in handy, though, is to bring my urge of kicking him in the nuts to material fulfillment.

"Are you nuts? Who in Allah's name would wanna come into your room?" I flare out without giving way to any restraint borne out of the fear of offending a vampire.

"You."

"I—I can't. I told you; I have a lot to get over with tonight. My assignments for instance."

"Is it algebra?"

"How—never mind—yeah, it's algebra."

"Then I'll ask Neliel to help you with it. After which we can proceed to my room. What say you?" he asks without a grin, without anything for me to decipher what's cooking inside his skull. But, apart from it all, having to spend several minutes with his sister sounds utterly delightful. If only I could find a way to attain such without having to pass through Grimmjow's devices…

"I really can't. I'm sorry." I refuse slowly as if with regret, which I should've demonstrated earnestly out of courtesy.

At this, something stirs in the depths of his blue eyes, something dark and massive, something that resembles night. One corner of his lips twitches, and his pupils, never leaving mine, glint with such an underlying vehemence that's bound to thunder like an implacable force. I've never seen him this angry before, nor do I wish to witness this again in any time ahead.

"Tell me, Kurosaki, how long did it take Ulquiorra to convince you to come with him to that secluded fucking place? Two minutes? I'm betting it was no more than that." He says it with firmness and resolution which are almost savage. Indeed, savage is his face, for which no one could have bestowed any other description.

"Yeah, it might have been two minutes. But I didn't have any other engagement at that time; no homework whatsoever. Besides, he promised to tell me all I wanted to know without a darn price. I suppose that suffices for a clarification."

It occurs to me that I'm actually, inexplicably feeling disposed to offer explanations as though it's my responsibility to do so, as if something committal binds me into it. It then also occurs to me that I'm currently being a complete moron.

"Is he that much better than me, then?"

Questions like this, if ever I have heard one of its sort, make me wonder why life should continue afterwards. This is getting so absurd I might as well get this settled by challenging him to a footrace. More than anything, I have to clear something up once and for all.

Because I have only a scant margin for errors, I heave a deep sigh to prepare myself for that which requires a safe choice of words,

"And how the hell does it come to that? Just—Grimmjow, listen here—this can't go on. I can be your friend, your fan, your worshipper, but the fact remains that I can't be anything more than that. The same holds true with your brother. Go get a girlfriend, someone who's more appropriate, with tits, basically. Or better yet, someone like the superhuman that you are."

"…"

"…"

This I must tell for this is history: the expected squall does not approach. From where I stand, he seems transparently offended, try as he might to present himself as otherwise. He swallows the lump in his throat as such human mannerism makes me wonder how often the senseless lump in one's throat the only thing one has to swallow. I can tell one of his fists has balled tighter inside his pocket, an observation I have rather guessed than seen. With his slender hand he strokes the protruding strands of his bangs to secure them away from his face, perhaps to momentarily display the ruthless, appalling intensity that now plagues it. Finally, he looks away and, allowing neither a grunt nor a sigh to escape him, turns around.

I watch his back gradually reduce in size as he slinks farther and farther away from me. For a second, guilt and my natural inclination to courteous sympathy strike to move me to say something or holler him back. In the end there's just nothing I can say. To say nothing is to say all; this is what I want, isn't it? to be rid of him, finally.

I continue to head straight, looking completely as though what has recently disturbed me has dissipated to total obscurity.

"Ichigo!"

It's Rukia. She's scuffling about her heels, trying to catch up with me.

"Hey." I greet rather despondently. "Going home?"

"Yeah. Renji and the others have trotted off without me. Can I walk with you?"

"Yeah, no problem."

Girded with gladness at my consent, she smiles at me before pulling ahead. We walk on together, after which nothing occurs worthy of noting.

...

Today is another Saturday. Today, I'm just your regular teenage kid who has nothing to do with the supernatural, vampires specifically. Today, I'm boarding on a camping trip with Renji and the gang.

I arrive at the rendezvous point earlier than intended, what with dad driving like a maniac being chased by the CIA. There, Inoue, Ishida, Toushiro, and Kira are already waiting.

"Be careful, kids." Dad says. I'm barely out of the car when he winks at me, before revving the engine to another wild ride on a highway to hell. In no time Rukia, Renji, Hanatarou, and Chad join in the convention.

For a more or less adequate account of this sudden arrangement, allow me to start by saying camping isn't my ideal solution to kill the contagious weekend boredom, and, as a fact, I would've been beating away with Guitar Hero 3 right at this hour if it weren't for the persistent, nonstop mode of invitation Inoue and Rukia applied on me two days prior. Minutes later I found myself nodding vacantly to appease both. So now here I am.

We take an hour-long hike over rocks and blades of grass taller than me. In time, the reward of which comes into view; a neat cabin is standing forlorn across a shallow, clear stream.

"Are you sure there aren't any wild beasts in here?" I hear Hanatarou ask Renji.

"Can't be too sure of that. We're prepared for that, aren't we, Kira?"

"You bet."

Kira taps the bulk of his baggage to indicate something.

"What do you have there?" Ishida asks him.

"A couple of hunting rifles." Kira answers. I must say I'm impressed. He resumes upon catching the assorted expressions on our faces; Ishida, for one, is looking thoroughly wiped out, "No worries here; I'm a pretty good shot, and it's loaded with rubber bullets."

"Cool. Can I try it?" Toushiro asks.

"I suggest we only use it if anything necessitates it, like an emergency or something. But if you insist, we can make rounds later in the day. I'm pretty loaded with pellets."

This may turn out to be a pretty decent event after all.

Renji has put up a bonfire to raise the temperature. We're circled around the flame, away from any concern outside this peaceful parcel of land-except perhaps my thoughts which are reluctantly voyaging to something, someone, whose persistent fixedness makes him impossible to forget, even for a second. At intervals I can hear Toushiro and Kira hitting metal targets from a distance. I let my eyes wander around, only to arrive at one conclusion: maybe this is the crowd in which I belong. Ghost stories, urban legends, extraterrestrial findings, scientific anomalies… these topics assault the air tonight without the slightest regard to the late hour. The unsuspecting voices around me are steadily climbing by decibels, urging my ears to grow more engrossed minute after minute.

Somehow I can't help feeling that I'm being watched. The feeling intensifies when Rukia sits beside me to hand me a cup of hot chocolate.

Hours later, some of us have tucked themselves beneath the sheets, leaving the cicadas' chirping to dominate the midnight air. Suspiciously, the night has grown doubly onerous with the silence, instead of growing more serene. Oddly enough, the darkness mystifies me. I find myself groping around for one of Kira's rifles for no definite reason. Before I know it, I'm plowing ahead yards away from the cabin, rifle in hand.

Something behind me nails down my flight.

"Where are you going, Kurosaki-kun?"

Inoue Orihime has hobbled after me. I'm not rude enough to ask her to head back and leave me alone. I mean, turning a pretty girl away on a night like this, with absolute privacy and all, is advisable in selected contexts such as that when you wanna remain single forever.

"Just for a walk. And you?"

"I followed you. But isn't it too dangerous to be out here in the forest alone?"

"That's why I have Kira's lovely rifle with me."

"Well, if you're really determined to take a stroll at this hour—maybe—I think I should accompany you." She says hesitantly, a reddish glow mounting up her cheeks under the paleness of the moon.

"O—okay."

The word juts out my mouth only to contradict the reality of what I'm about to discover. A sudden apparition flashes vaguely from a distance. Or my eyes are deceiving me. I swing around to look at Inoue. Thankfully she's too busy attending to her steps to notice anything out of the ordinary. But now I've become thoroughly aware that something is stirring in the darkness. There's an activity in there that's too unnatural for human eyes to behold. There are movements behind the shadows that are too coarse and at the same time too fluid to be believed probable.

Something is howling, and no sooner than Inoue lifts her head from her feet does a piercing wail of a defeated animal reach our ears. Out of pure impulse, I leap in front of Inoue to block her view from what's laid out before us.

On this night, under the same sky and on the same valley, the vampires are roaming the soil.

I reach out for Inoue's waist behind me and pull her against my back to keep the track of her gaze on it and on nothing else.

"Kurosaki-kun, is it a wounded animal?"

"It looks like it. Listen, Inoue-san, turn around and head back to the cabin—"

"Why? I want to help the poor thing, too." She pleads.

"N—no. Y—you really shouldn't see this. Please. Turn around and don't look back."

She doesn't stir a muscle for several seconds. One quick glance is all it takes to reconcile her thoughts to my visible, suspicious trembling.

"A—are you alright?" She asks me.

"I—I'm fine. Please make haste to the cabin."

Alas, she bustles off with the docile act of not looking back just as what I have instructed her. About what I'm looking at right now:

A meter before me is a tiny abyss whose pit wallows three meters below the ground I'm standing on. Down below is a black bear, or some other poor creature, its neck ripped open by a most savage incision. I would've easily settled with a less gruesome conclusion about the manner by which it was killed…

…if it weren't for the sight of someone crouching over the dead beast, soundlessly sucking its blood dry.

There are two of them. The one who's feeding doesn't show any indication that he has detected my presence, though I'm damn sure he has sensed me. The other one is standing over him with arms folded across his chest, looking as though he's monitoring his companion's activity purely out of duty.

"Easy now, Szayel. We're being watched."

Stark, the eldest son of Aizen Sousuke, lazily tilts his head at my direction to gesture at me, as if I'm the least of his considerations. Szayel kneels up to reveal a bloody set of teeth, with a fang protruding from each corner of his lips, before grinning to complete a most malevolent expression.

"I can smell your blood from here." Szayel, the youngest of the Aizen children, informs me.

TBC

A/N: Pardon me for the errors and thanks for reading.