Hello again! Thanks so much for commenting or following this story! It makes me so happy to come home and log in to see someone new!
I should probably mention that the reason their is some English names and some Japanese names is all due to where the characters are born in this world, so it's different cultures all in one story.
Warning: This story is very dark with adult themes.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of its character. Just the story line.
Well, well, well, let's jump right into the action!
Walking with the warrior twins was about as awkward as you can imagine. They trailed behind me, a lurking threat that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on edge. And while they kept a polite distance, I swore I could feel Grimmjow's hot breath against my skin. Taunting me.
Jaw clenched tight, I kept my attention on Clark's back as he walked ahead with Gin and Kensei, talking idly about politics and other useless topics.
When we were finally free from the winding halls of the Kings Wing, I slowed my pace. Our small party merged into the hustling of the High Court, men and woman- all dressed sharply- rushed around, filling the giant round room with a loud hum of chatter and footsteps. Across the sea of people, past my father and his companions, I saw the neutral face of Devon Westbrook, my relievmeant. We met eyes, and the swap was completed.
I changed course, walking towards the Military Wing casually. I knew without having to look that Grimmjow and Ulquiorra never took their eyes off of me, staring daggers into my retreating back. And when I was finally free, walking down the long narrow hallway, my shoulder slumped. Relaxing at last.
It was an odd sense of comfort. I spent most of my time in the winding halls of the military wing. I wouldn't call it 'a home away from home' per-say. But it would be hard not to form a kind of emotional attachment to a place you've spent all your time in for years.
Footsteps, rushing towards me, gave away his position long before he was close enough to strike.
And in the blink of an eye he was smacked into the marble ground, his back popping under the strain. I stood over the young boy, my hands clasped formally behind my back, and a small tight smile on my lips. He laid there for a moment, staring up at me with a look of disappointment and slight pain shining in his eyes.
"A sneak attack is worthless with all that stomping." I chastised him.
He sat up, his back cracking unnaturally. "Sorry, Boss. I'll do better tomorrow. I mean... next time."
I rolled my eyes and continued walking. Hisagi Shuhei, age 15. Orphaned at the age of nine and brought to me for execution about a year ago. He'd been charged with theft by a wealthy store owner. Six apples, and a Gold necklace were found in his possession upon arrival and, to my father, that had been more than enough evidence. A life sentence for a couple apples and a cheap chain, such a waste.
But, I had seen something in his eyes, a drive to survive, and a fire that I could shape and mold into a useful tool. And, a boy who had never been given a choice was suddenly given two. Death by stone or to live out his days in the kings guard. He had chosen easily enough.
What I hadn't counted on was how terrible his skill set would be. Lowest in his barracks, and worst swordsman I'd ever seen.
"You'll never pass the kings next task at this rate, Hisagi."
"I'm trying." He sulked from behind me, his feet loud and clumsy as he tried to keep up. "I'm just not very good with conflict."
I sighed heavily, I had no doubt he was trying his best, but that was what weighed on me. "My father values results, not effort."
We walked in silence for awhile, winding down halls after halls. We met no one on our journey to the Center, and Hisagi's heavy steps were the only sound filling the empty space.
"Maybe," he began quietly, merely a whisper of breath. "you can convince him to pass me. Like you did last task."
My foot hesitated slightly as I walked, my hands unconsciously clenching behind my back tighter. I forced my tone smooth, "I did no such thing."
Hisagi was quick to appear at my side, his muggy brown eyes trying to connect with mine. But I stared ahead, concentrating intensely on each step I took. "I know you did, Coniver was at least three ranks ahead of me and yet somehow he ranked below me. I should have been among the ones who took a sip of Mortas blood."
I bristled at the sound of her name. Morta the Goddess of Death; I knew her well enough. I'd seen her on ever battle field and I had given her plenty of souls to devour. I spit over my shoulder. "Watch your tongue, boy. The Gods do not like their names spoken so callously."
Mortas blood, a toxic and unrelenting poison that killed viciously and painfully. Only those who are leaving this world in dishonor, who do not deserve their souls to pass into their next lives, are given her blood. Once the liquid passes your lips, you belong to her for eternity, living forever in the underworld.
If a recruit is found to be unworthy of the kings seal, if his tasks are not completed honorably, then he is given to Morta.
Hisagi spit over his shoulder as well, his head bowed slightly. His short black hair cut closely to his scalp, and dark bruises showed through it, ghosting down to his jaw. I could see them covering his arms, all the way up into his loose shirt. He was too skinny, and he was also too smart for his own good.
Coniver had been above him. Coniver should be the one walking besides me. He had been strong and cunning, everything a warrior strived to be but Coniver had also been a despicable human being, which, normally, would have made him a perfect fit in the Kings Guard but he had done something. Something so appalling and morbid that even I couldn't stomach it.
Hisagi was a better fit to be a soldier, he just lacked the skill to fulfill his destiny. And I had to let him mold it himself, otherwise he would never succeed.
I rested my hand gently on his shoulder and paused our walking just before the final turn into the Center. Where I could already hear the clash of swords and spears and bone on bone. Hisagi looked up at me with scorned eyes, and I ignored their pleading. "This task will not be like the others, Hisagi. The whole city will be watching. Either you pass the task, on your own, or-" I pulled away. Having to look away from his innocence and worth, otherwise the words would never leave my mouth. "Or you will dishonor me and my seal and you will spend out immortality with the Death Singer."
Remorse sank in my gut but I ignored it as I left him behind to stand alone with his defeat. The words had to be said, for I couldn't protect him forever. He would need to live or die on his own, no matter how hard it was for me to accept.
I cleared my head of him as I rounded the corner and looked down into the Center, looked down on the remaining recruits as they beat and cut and tore each other apart. Vicious and wild. A room filled with murderers and thieves, and I knew deep inside me, that Hisagi would never stand a chance.
The familiar scent of blood and sweat stung my nose as I walked down the broad stair-well into the Center. And while I entered, the fighting slowed, and then ceased all together. Every pair of eyes darting for me.
So few were left. So many young men had walked into this gym, hungry for power and status, and most were now gone. Whether they were released honorably, or taken after incomplete tasks- the result was the same. The only ones strong enough to survive, the only ones who could kill and marr and completely devastate their opponents, were the ones without mercy, the ones who could look upon a starving child, who stole a measly three apples, and would find death a reasonable punishment.
I suppose, I was no different. If I was the one training them, didn't my ideals become theirs? Wasn't I responsible for these men, and their actions? Coniver came to mind- and my heart thudded loudly, ringing in my ears.
Thankfully, my face was conditioned enough to remain blank as the uncontrollable rage pounded through me. I came to a stop in from of the small group, most of them slick with sweat.
Hisagi ran up from behind me to fall into formation within the herd. Twenty-two men, some only boys like Hisagi, boys who still hadn't grown to full height, hadn't yet felt scruff on their morning cheeks. How many would last?
"Your next task is in four weeks. And unlike the others, this will be watched by your King, and he himself will decide which ones are worthy to be in his guard." I looked at each one slowly. "I shouldn't need to remind you but your actions and skill reflect directly on me. And I do not like being made into a fool. So in the coming weeks I will assign specific days in which you will all train with me, individually."
To that they all seemed rather shocked, looking to one another, their mouths gaping open.
I suppose, their reactions weren't too far fetched. I had never really shown much interest in their training. After their first initiation I'd rarely even given them verbal advice, leaving most of the day to day grunt work to a select few who were more appropriate teachers. As if I'd called him forward, Sam Cortman, slipped from the shadows. He strolled casually toward me, his chest bare and glistening with sweat, and I found it difficult to keep my face neutral, before he came to a rest on my right.
In his presence the men's entire mood shifted. And I could feel the slow, moving tension inside of them. I recognized it in their faces. For I had felt it every day, every hour and every minute of my life. Except, my tormentor was of my own family and blood. I had not chosen him, and he had not chosen me.
Even despite that, Sam was their nightmare incarnated.
The person who haunted them, and yet- made them strive to be better. It was a morbid kind of circle of life, in a way. Without our fears, we would never become who we are meant to be. But too many fears, and it could break us entirely, terrifying us in unspeakable ways.
I'd riding that line for awhile, myself.
"The lower ranked members will be granted more time for personalized training. While the rest of you will continue with your day to day work outs and routines." Sam continued, smiling slightly at me. "General Inoue will make me look like a picnic on a nice summer day, so don't think you're getting off easy. And when training with her, how you do will reflect on me. So, if I hear that any of you embarrass me and the rest of your squad, then prepare yourselves for a harsh punishment."
My jaw clenched slightly, hating the threat in his voice but understanding the reasoning behind it. Because it had the right effect, every one of their backs straightened, and I could feel Hisagi's eyes on me, trying to get my attention. I didn't give it to him.
"Don't worry, I'll take it easy on your recruits, Cortman. Wouldn't want to kill them before your punishment can come to light."
He chuckled, "You heard her, get into your groups so the Heir can pick which one of you to begin with." With that, they all broke apart before regrouping into packs of four. I was almost jealous of the way they followed his commands. I wondered, briefly, if I had taken more of an interest, would it be me they feared?
Would that make me feel less hollow?
My body began to buzz in the anticipation of the violence, the need to let off some steam was pumping through me like blood. Though I had enough hindsight to know, the young men before me would do nothing to satisfy me.
"How bout you, Cortman? Why don't you help me get warmed up?"
His eyes danced along my form, glazing in a mysterious way. "I thought you'd never ask."
Evil, wicked excitement bubbled in my gut. It had been too long since I'd brawled for the pure enjoyment of it. I itched at the chance.
And I would enjoy knocking that suggestive smirk clean off of his face.
.
.
Thats it for chapter three!
Badass Orihime bout to make an appearance! Can't wait to see her in action.
That's all that I'd already had written so the next couple chapters will come a little more spaced apart!
Till next time-