I'm here for another chapter for you all. Not much to say for now, I'll just let the contents of this chapter speak for itself. Just please be sure to leave a review to leave us your thoughts.
Thanks once again to Greatkingrat88 (for writing) and jcampbellohten (for being our Beta)
Bleach is owned by Tite Kubo and Shounen jump. Fairy tail is owned by Hiro Mashima and weekly shounen magazine. I own NOTHING. This is all just for fun.
Stalemates were obnoxious things, and both Soifon and Neliel were growing frustrated. The espada was powerful and fast, too much so to be blindsided by any normal attack Soifon made. Each strike from the shadows went the same way, parried at the last second. Her hierro was too thick to easily pierce, which meant Soifon's shikai would be next to useless unless she first wounded the espada. Short of bankai, she had no way of dealing with the arrancar. Too strong, too fast, and too experienced, the arrancar was more than she could handle alone.
Neliel likewise had a hard time of it. The assassin was too fast and too agile for her to even hit; she had come close more than a few times, and she was sure a good strike or two would turn the tide in her favour quickly, but the assassin dodged and weaved out of the way with reflexes that, for a shinigami, seemed nothing short of extraordinary. She had considered using resurreccion, but hers would not add much to the mobility needed to catch a foe like this.
It was to the relief of both combatants when a third figure appeared, gracefully walking onto the scene, shrouded in a shimmer of pink. He had a cold look of absolute confidence, and Neliel realized it had to be Kuchiki Byakuya of division six.
"Captain!" Soifon said, dashing out of combat, standing a fair distance away from him. "Your assistance is welcome."
"What of our opponent?" Byakuya said dispassionately.
"High-tier espada, undoubtedly part of Aizen's personal elite," Soifon said, dispersing the information rapidly with practiced ease. "Superb physical abilities. Physically powerful and extremely durable. Your blade would find difficulty piercing her hide even in shikai. Full extent of abilities: unknown. Proceed with caution."
Byakuya nodded. "I would advise you to head back to the command central, Captain Soifon."
Taken aback and a little offended, Soifon said, "I'm sorry?"
"The commander has already engaged the other espada, and she appears to be doing well. You, for your part, appear to be making little headway. This is a military mission, and somebody ought to direct its course. The commander cannot, and as it appears I would be a better fit for this battle, that would leave you as the most experienced. I cannot order you, but such is my recommendation."
Soifon hesitated. Kuchiki Byakuya had never condescended her, nor undervalued her abilities, so she was inclined to believe he meant what he said. There was merit to his words, too.
"Will you be able to conquer your enemy?"
"There can be no doubt," Byakuya said, a hint of steel in his voice.
"Very well, then," Soifon said with a nod. She felt a little hesitant still; the nobleman was weighed down by his pride, but then again, he was one of the most formidable fighters of the Gotei Thirteen.
As they talked, Neliel had edged back, taken a step after another away- and then, as the two captains were engaged in dialogue, she ran. Lanza was in trouble. And her role, well, that was to attract attention. Better not to be locked down here, then.
"Cowardice?" Soifon muttered.
"Doubtful. I will pursue her. She will not escape," Byakuya said firmly.
"I will assume command in Captain Scarlet's absence, then," said Soifon. "Best of luck."
"I shall not need it."
With that very slight boast, Byakuya dashed away in pursuit of the espada. Soifon paused to look at him leave, then a moment later, she dashed away in the opposite direction. He had been right, after all.
She just couldn't get close. That accursed ash would strike her every time, grind against her skin, go for her eyes, her mouth, her ears; anywhere her iron skin was weaker. It was quite a terrifying substance, and its range was superior. Menoly had been driven back, step by step, unable to do more than evade. She had sheathed her blade. It did her no good, not when she would swipe at empty air, the ash parting whenever the edge came close to it. One leap after another, Menoly was pushed back, her attacker pursuing relentlessly.
Taking care to appear desperate, Menoly quickly formed a cero, too weak to do any real damage on account of not having had the time to charge up. It sailed over the shinigami's head, several feet away from its mark, achieving little more than to chip a wall section of the building to her left. Broken bricks and debris fell onto the pavement behind them, but nothing else came of it.
"Geez," the shinigami muttered, advancing inexorably, "this is just pathetic. Even so, I can't afford to take the likes of you lightly."
A frightened look on her face, Menoly turned and ran, bursting from one street to the next. The shinigami followed suit, closing the distance quickly. It hadn't taken a minute before she caught up, the short chase taking them a few blocks away.
Menoly sensed the attack coming, and landed, bracing herself. She pulled out her blade, and parried just in time, the force of the shinigami's attack bringing her down to one knee. She felt a pang of satisfaction, as she realized the ash wasn't there- just as she had thought, there was a limit to its speed, and the shinigami had been forced to seal her shikai before giving chase. She braced one hand against the asphalt, the shinigami pushing her attack harder. She felt her enemy's blade grind against her shoulder, cutting through her clothes, beginning to wear through her hierro. She groaned with pain.
The shinigami, confident in her victory, took a step back, raising her blade for a strike surely meant to end Menoly's life. However, before she could strike, the street exploded. Menoly had charged another cero, properly this time, in the hand she had braced against the street. Having aimed it toward the shinigami, it sent a spray of crushed asphalt, gravel, dust and sand toward the shinigami, catching her off-guard. Without waiting to see if it had worked, Menoly turned and ran. She had consistently fallen back, but she had run toward the place she was meant to go- and this gambit of hers would hopefully give her enough time to get away. Breathing frantically, she dashed through the city at full speed toward the rendezvous point, hoping to all she held dear that she could get away.
Loly had likewise run, according to the instructions of her master. She was the first to find the rendezvous spot. In the distance she sensed Menoly, running for her life, and further away there were Findor, Ggio, and most importantly, Lanza. There was the familiar ripping noise of a garganta opening, as she willed the portal into existence. It wasn't simple, not for an arrancar of her level, and if she had been under attack, it would never have worked.
Her heart beat thunderously as the gateway wrenched open, and an immense relief welled up in her as it opened fully, large enough to accommodate any one of them. She wanted to step through it right away; it meant safety. But, she couldn't. Without a caster to maintain it, it would fold in on itself shortly, and… more importantly, the others were still out there. Lanza was still out there.
Her heart beat quickly again, thinking about him. He was locked in mortal combat with a dreaded captain, one out of several stationed here in the town. Even with Neliel's help, nothing was guaranteed. She had to wait, and it was agonizing. It was her duty as the first to get away to provide an escape route, and all she could do now was hope. Feeling helpless, frustrated, and angry, she focused on maintaining the garganta.
Come on, Lanza! she thought to herself, uncomfortably shifting around on the spot, Come back to me!
Battle, Ggio realized, was a lot less volatile than he had expected after he had closed the distance. The spellcaster was still difficult to get to, shielded by all manners of devious sorcery, and she had so far evaded any real damage, but he was controlling the pace, and no mistake. He had managed to evade her fire and her trickery, managed to get in close, and he was currently pushing her as hard as he could.
The problem was that although he held the advantage right now, the moment he stopped pushing her, the moment he let up, he would find himself at the mercy of a legion of spells he knew no way of counteracting, and by the looks of it, the little woman was only getting started. Ggio felt the thrill of battle, but he was keenly aware that even if he killed his opponent in a timely fashion, he'd still be in a city full of high-ranking shinigami, no doubt eager to take revenge.
Lanza had been right. They had to get away. The idea had seemed odd to him at first, to run away at first sight, but against such overwhelming force, that was what made sense. That captain, whoever it had been, had been pummeling his master, and that was no mean feat.
In the distance, he sensed a portal opening, and quickly the gears of his mind shifted. All right, that changed things. All he needed now was to find an opening and get out.
Findor was right where he wanted to be. One arm folded behind his back, his right arm was moving smoothly, with speed and precision, striking at his opponent relentlessly. The blade was like an extension of his arm; unlike many arrancar, he had taken to swordsmanship quite smoothly, as it was a close enough fit from how he had used to fight.
His opponent was no pushover, on her end. Every strike Findor lashed out with, every cut was parried or dodged. The two of them had performed this deadly dance for some time now. Findor was vaguely aware that it couldn't have been too long, or reinforcements would have come, but he had lost himself to the trance of battle.
When he struck at her legs, she would step back or jump over it. When he thrust at her, she would parry, or evade and ready a counter-attack. His skin had saved him several times already, and a few shallow telltale cuts on the shinigami's body spoke of some close calls. This was what he had missed. His master was a good hollow to serve, but it had been too long since Findor had faced a real challenge- somebody whose skill was close to his own, dangerous, somebody who was strong enough that the outcome could be decided at the roll of a die or the flip of a coin.
His master. Damn it.
Findor was, when it all came down to it, unusually loyal for a hollow. Strength lay in groups, and groups were led by the strongest. The strongest were the strongest for a reason, and obeying them- especially if they weren't of the callous kind, who would readily throw away their pack members without a second thought- was a good idea. Self-preservation, the hollow lifestyle, had in its odd kind of way given Findor a very human sensibility.
But, he also had a hollow's lust for battle, and right now, the two of them battled as fiercely as he battled the shinigami.
He wanted to kill her. He wanted to best her, to run her through and watch her face as she realized she was dying. He wanted to watch the light go out of her eyes. He wanted to taste her blood and feel the sweetness of victory, no matter the cost.
But, he also knew that staying any longer than he had to would be a betrayal of his lord, and therefore a betrayal of himself, and his principles were important- chiefly because they were practical and had kept him alive for all this time.
He dodged under a burst of ice, and sent an off-handed cero her way. She dodged, and retaliated with a burning jet of blue fire. Neither of them hit, the two of them stood some distance away from each other, both sizing the other up, both knowing they'd clash again within moments.
Damn it all, Findor thought irritably, I won't get a fight this good until the war starts.
There was nothing for it. It was tempting, but temptation often meant death- needless death, the death of a fool. Irritably, Findor began to think. There had to be some way he could get out.
She had frozen, her warhammer held low. Jellal! Of all things, of all people she thought dead and buried in the past- of all the people to come back, it had been him! How? Well, the same way she had, maybe…?
Her grip on the hammer tightened, and in her mind she imagined raising it, bringing it down, cracking his skull open like an egg. He would have deserved it. But he was down on his knees, as good as beaten, and something inside her refused to finish it. She hadn't killed Zaraki Kenpachi, and Jellal… Jellal was Jellal, and she was Erza, and Erza would not be Erza if she killed the defenseless.
"Jellal who?" said Jellal, frowning with confusion. "Don't play games with me, shinigami. Kill me if you must, but don't toy with me. You should be better than that, shouldn't you?"
Erza blinked, confusion mixing with her shock.
"You truly… you truly do not remember?" she said, looking him in the eye.
"Remember what?" said Lanza, sounding puzzled.
Erza dropped her shield, although she did not let go of her hammer- she was not about to get careless. She took a decisive step forward, grabbed him by the hair, and yanked his head up. Their faces were mere inches apart, and she stared into his eyes with a baleful glare, hate written in her visage.
"The Tower of Heaven!" she hissed. "Zeref! That mad ritual! You are Jellal Fernandes, you great big bastard, and you're the one who killed me! Do you not remember Fiore? Fairy Tail, my guild? Our friends, the ones you used and betrayed? Do you not remember Sho, Millianna and Wally? Simon, the one you killed?! Have you really forgotten?!"
Anger of a kind she had long since forgotten and left behind her welled up, wrath rooted in the loss and regret of leaving all she loved in her old life behind, and she wanted to crush him for it. But more than anything, she wanted him to own it, to admit to his wrongdoings.
"I… who are you?" said Jellal slowly.
"Erza Scarlet!" Erza snarled. "Erza Scarlet, the friend you once had!"
"Er… za…" Jellal said, his eyes widening.
"Finally ringing a bell?" Erza said, shaking him.
"I…" Jellal said, wild-eyed. "I don't… I don't know."
Frustrated, Erza threw him to the ground.
"There's nothing for it, I guess," she said, her voice trembling. She picked her shield up again. "It's been over a hundred years, and here you are again- a hollow, a monster in Aizen's service. Some things just never change, do they?"
She raised her hammer, and took a stance.
"Stand and fight," she demanded. "Stand up and do what your wretched kind does best, so I can kill you for good this time!"
Hesitantly, Jellal stood up. His released form was still active, although one arm was still broken. Erza felt her blood boil. She hadn't thought about Jellal in a long time, hadn't held such a grudge- but in the end, he had caused her death. He had been the one to separate her from her family once and for all. He had robbed her of a life with Fairy Tail. For that, she would be more than happy to kill him in honest combat.
Jellal stood up, but he looked confused more than menacing, his posture slack and weak. Her teeth gritting, Erza waited for him to make a move, any move.
"We… knew each other?" said Jellal, a look of honest confusion on his face. "I… killed you? I'm- I'm sorry."
She hadn't expected that.
"Listen, you little-" she began, but then she sensed it coming and spun around to face it. A stronger energy was bearing down on her, and Erza's soldier instincts kicked in, overriding the emotion burning in her chest. Her shield raised, hammer at the ready, she saw the form of Neliel slide to a halt. But rather than attack, she put herself between Jellal and Erza. Not far behind her, Erza sensed Kuchiki Byakuya in pursuit, closing the distance quickly.
"Neliel!" Jellal exclaimed.
"Hurry and get out!" Neliel snapped. "Your servants are already falling back. I got their attention, but we don't have a second to waste!"
"NO!" Erza roared, taking a step forward. In response, Neliel pulled her blade out, assuming a stance.
"No, not yet! I'm not done with you yet, you-" she snarled, but Neliel cut her off, blade out.
"Yes, you are. Lanza, GO!" she demanded.
Faced with such a direct order, Jellal snapped out of his reveries, and with a burst of energy, he sealed his resurreccion, then turned and ran. Erza wanted to chase after him, wanted to get more out of him than this, but Neliel was no pushover. No, she couldn't pursue personal business right now, not with such a threat in front of her. Slowly, she gathered her thoughts, once again becoming a captain of the Gotei, not Erza, wounded and betrayed teenager.
"You have a viper in your midst," she hissed at Neliel, unwilling to attack directly.
"Aren't we all vipers in your eyes?" Neliel said, an undertone of sadness in her voice. Erza had no response.
She needed none, either, as a second later, Byakuya caught up with them.
"Captain," he said with a nod at Erza, "what of the other espada?"
"He… escaped," Erza said, not sure how to put it professionally. I was compromised because he was a very old, long dead enemy seemed like it would be a bit too wordy.
"No matter," said Byakuya, advancing toward Neliel. "He is not my enemy. Offer assistance if you wish, but be sure not to get in my way."
Neliel held up her blade and raised her free arm up behind her, waving her fingers lightly. Smoothly, a garganta began to take shape behind her.
"He's already gone," she said sharply, "and I have no intention of killing either of you here tonight. There will be time enough for that later."
"Scatter, Senbonzakura!" Byakuya all but snarled the words, and his blade released, sending a shower of sharp, pink death in Neliel's direction. Not waiting for the gateway to fully form, the espada dived into the darkness. Byakuya's advance burst into a run, and Erza realized he meant to pursue her even now. Quickly, she took a few steps forward, and firmly grabbed hold of his shoulder. He strained against her grip, before stopping. A look of cold fury on his face, he turned to face Erza.
"Commander. What is the meaning of this?"
Behind him, the garganta began to close, and Neliel was gone.
"You were about to pursue a very powerful enemy into hostile territory with no way out," Erza said firmly, grateful to be able to slip into the role of authoritative leadership, "and I stopped you from making that mistake."
"I knew what I was doing."
"Even so," said Erza, refraining from pointing out that no, you didn't, "you are not in charge here. Seal your blade and report back to command, now."
He gave her a strange look, paused, and then he finally said, "…Affirmative, commander. Executing orders."
He sealed his blade, turned, and left. Erza stood alone, deeply conflicted, filled with an anger she had thought gone.
Lanza- or was it Jellal?- felt deeply confused. Part of him felt deeply ashamed; he had failed his lord's orders, endangered his servants, his mission for naught, and he had nearly died.
But somehow, that felt distant. That loyalty, that had only hours ago filled him with purpose, had been violently pushed out of its place as his first and foremost priority. Now, he was trying to think, trying to make sense of this… madness.
He stood waiting outside Aizen's throne room, where Neliel had already gone to report. He was waiting for his turn, waiting for his lord to condemn him for his failure, but somehow even that felt distant, unimportant.
That red-haired fury of a captain, the things she had said to him… he couldn't remember her, but he knew her face. Somehow, he knew her face. Somehow, he recognized it. Somehow, her words of condemnation had filled him with guilt, even though he had no recollection of it.
Suddenly, in his mind's eye, there was a flash of… something, welling into his mind without warning. A tower of stone, tall and imposing. A young girl with long, red hair. Chains, whips, blood, and suffering. A darkness in his mind. A world completely separate from this. For a second, he felt as if it was all in his grasp, as if he could reach out and reclaim all of it. Then, a second later, it was gone, lost to him, leaving him only with the same vague recollections from before.
It had been genuine hate in her face. Not as a shinigami might have for a monstrous hollow, but personal. Whatever it was, Lanza- Jellal? Was that him?- was sure it was no act. Somehow, he knew it wasn't, but he could not in a million years have explained why he knew.
"Lanza?"
He jerked, nearly spasming as the voice called out. It was Neliel, he realized. He had been too lost in thought to even notice her coming.
"Y-yes?" he said, trying to compose himself.
"Lord Aizen will see you now."
"Y-yes. Right."
"Don't be so nervous," said Neliel reassuringly. "You did great."
Not even responding, he shot her an uncertain look before taking a few quick strides toward the throne room. If only all he worried about were his performance… as it was right now, he wasn't even sure who he was.
Focusing on the shame of his failure, he tried- and almost succeeded- at driving away the thoughts haunting his mind. As he approached the throne, he fell onto one knee, his eyes fixated on the marble floor.
"Rise, my septimo," came Lord Aizen's calm, smooth voice. Jellal- no, Lanza!- obeyed, and with some effort he stood up, facing his liege lord.
"Neliel tells me you ran into some… difficulty," said Lord Aizen.
"I humbly beg your forgiveness, lord," Lanza- Lanza?- Lanza, yes, Lanza- rambled out quickly. "We were taken by surprise and I- I- my servants, they…"
"All escaped thanks to Neliel's intervention," said Lord Aizen. "You'll be pleased to know they await your return in your quarters. Aside from a few scratches, they were unharmed. Tested, but unharmed."
"I am very glad to hear it, lord," said Lanza, relief briefly overwhelming his shame and insecurity. Truthfully, his confusion had taken his mind off his servants, but identity issues aside, he knew he cared whether they lived or died. Having lost even one of them would have been one too many.
"My lord," he continued, his words coming out erratic and quick, like a machine gun jamming every three bullets or so, "I have no excuses. We have learned nothing of value, and I nearly died along with my servants. Despite our efforts, we were found out. I have failed you."
Aizen stood up, a slight smirk on his face. Lanza watched him descend the steps from his throne toward him with horror. Surely he would get the same treatment as Grimmjow?
His lord stopped only when he stood right in front of Jellal- Lanza- and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Stand, septimo."
He had called him by his rank. Could that mean…? No, there was no reason to ask questions; he had been given an order. Quickly, with as much dignity as he could manage, Je- Lanza stood up.
"You believe you failed me," said Lord Aizen, his arm still on Lanza's shoulder.
"I have, lord. You gave me a mission, and I did not come close to fulfilling it."
"Lanza," said Aizen, the septimo flinching as he heard the name, "the last time I sent an espada out into the world of the living, it ended in disaster. This time, you are all back alive and well- mostly, at least. More importantly, you obeyed my orders, did you not?"
"Lord?" said Lanza quizzically.
"Did you not, as I instructed, do your utmost to remain hidden?"
"I- I did, lord."
"And did you not prioritize the mission?"
"I- I did, but-"
"But nothing," Aizen said strictly. "As ordered, you remained hidden, and as ordered, you avoided conflict to the best of your ability. This, Lanza, was a test of your ability. It is one thing to profess loyalty by the mouth, and another to follow through. You were given orders, and you obeyed them. That is what matters. That is why I chose you for my consejo de la sombra."
Lanza blinked. It… it was… a test?
"Lord?"
"Nothing is amiss," Aizen reassured him. "What would you have been expected to learn from them that I do not already know, that I could not already predict? No, I know as much as I need to already. What I did not know was your ability. I see now that it is as good as you said it is."
"L-lord," Lanza stuttered.
"Go and rest," commanded Aizen. "You have earned it. I am sure your servants will be glad to see you are well."
"Yes, lord!" Lanza all but barked out the words, clumsily bowing down. Dismissed, he hurried out, Aizen still smiling behind him.
It was closer to morning than midnight when Soifon took a brief break from her duties to get a cup of coffee. She had been relieved by the commander a few hours earlier, but she had decided not to go back to bed just yet; this was quite an incident in a situation inevitably leading toward war, and that meant a lot of information to process, and it was best recorded when it was still fresh in the minds of those involved. So, she had taken statements from all shinigami combatants, compiled all the known facts, and begun work on a report for the next morning. It was all but finished, thanks to the diligent work of her intelligence unit, but work wasn't something to leave lying even if it was almost finished.
She had stayed at Urahara's place; despite her loathing for the man, it made for an effective enough workspace.
"Soifon?"
There was one other reason, too. Soifon paused, hot mug in hand, and yawned quietly to herself before responding. It was, of course, Lady Yoruichi.
"Lady Yoruichi?" she said, taking a healthy sip of coffee, turning around to face her old mentor.
"It's four in the morning," Yoruichi said. She wore nothing but a plain white shirt, long enough to cover her private parts, but not much else.
"So, go sleep."
"How can I, with somebody rummaging around in the kitchen? It's practically a thunderstorm out here."
Soifon, who knew she had been rather quiet, decided to play along with her old mentor's playful hyperbole.
"Cats are nocturnal, aren't they?"
"Honestly, Soifon," Yoruichi scolded her, "you should be in bed. You're working yourself to death."
"We just had an invasion. Which you seem to have slept through," Soifon said dryly.
"I noticed," Yoruichi said, a teasing smirk at the edge of her mouth, "but there's three captains about, and that's more than enough, isn't it? So, I went back to sleep."
"I will, too. In about… an hour or so."
"That's bee-speak for 'I'll sleep in four hours but by then it'll be morning so I'll at most take a power nap and then get right back to work'," Yoruichi scoffed. "It's not healthy."
"I have a report to finish. Duty does not wait."
"Yes, it does," Yoruichi insisted. "Trust me, I know."
Shrugging, Soifon took another drink of coffee from her mug, and walked out of the kitchen. To her surprise, Yoruichi wrapped her arms around Soifon's arm, and gently pulled the captain toward her own room, the opposite direction of Soifon's workspace. Anyone else trying that would quickly have discovered a new meaning of pain, but this being Yoruichi, Soifon just lightly resisted, tugging in the opposite direction.
"It's not like I'm asking you to, like, skip work to have fun," Yoruichi insisted, "but you need to sleep. Everyone does. Can't it wait?"
"It's almost done. I promise," Soifon added, hating how apologetic she sounded. She shouldn't have to justify the idea of duty first, of taking her work seriously, but somehow, even now, disagreeing with Lady Yoruichi felt… wrong.
"If it's almost done, can't you finish in the morning? That cranky old man won't even wake up that early," Yoruichi said. She pouted, and gave Soifon a look that would best be described as that of a particularly needy puppy. It was a comically exaggerated gesture, and the obnoxious part was that it was working.
"I… I mean, I still have coffee to finish…" Soifon said lamely.
"Then, finish it before you sleep."
"But the dishes-"
"You can wash it later. Honestly, Soifon, you need to relax a little."
In mild protest, Yoruichi dragged her former student into her room, where she halfway flung Soifon onto a sofa, expertly grabbing the mug before it could spill. With Soifon now seated, Yoruichi handed the mug back to her. Quietly, she emptied it.
"There. Finished. Now, about that work-"
"Relax and go to sleep," Yoruichi said insistently.
She could just get up. She could just put her foot down, refuse, and tell her old mentor that she was her own woman now and Lady Yoruichi didn't have the authority to boss her around. She could do that.
It was just that she couldn't. Not quite. And, if Soifon was honest, she didn't want to, either. She had spent every free moment she had with Yoruichi- which, granted, hadn't been too many since they first got here- and something about being around her put Soifon at ease. She longed for it, even.
It didn't help that she was actually tired, too.
"I'm wide awake," Soifon said stubbornly. "I can't just drop down and instantly fall asleep like some kind of lazy cat."
"No, because you're a busy bee," Yoruichi shot back, "but bees sleep, too."
Smoothly, she sat herself down next to Soifon and leaned back with an arm around her old student's shoulder. Soifon, despite herself, felt her cheeks flush.
"We can just talk, you know," Yoruichi said, "or maybe watch TV. You ever try TV? They have the most marvelous garbage on late at night. Or, just sit quietly."
"…You really are determined to get me in bed, aren't you?" Soifon muttered, maintaining an uncaring façade.
"You're already sitting down, and before you were standing, so I'm halfway there," Yoruichi said cheekily.
Soifon leaned back a little, staring out into nothing. In the dark of the room, with Yoruichi's arm around her, she felt… comfortable. Not quite sleepy just yet, but comfortable. The report could wait.
"Tell me…" she said quietly, after a while.
"Hmm?" Yoruichi said.
"You… left because you wanted to be free, right?" Soifon said.
Yoruichi blinked. "Well, that's quite a switch in topics."
"It's just…" Soifon said cautiously, "I've been thinking about it, and we're… different. I like my job. I like working long hours. I like doing what I do. The things you hated, I actually enjoy. We're not the same at all, are we?"
"I… I suppose not, no," Yoruichi mumbled, seeming a little uncomfortable.
"Do you… do you think less of me because of it?" Soifon asked. She had thought about it before, but kept it to herself. She might as well ask now, or who knew when there would be time?
"Soifon…"
"You don't have to answer," Soifon said quickly. "It's just- you left because you didn't want this life, and now I'm doing the same things. I spy, I capture, I interrogate. I'm good at it. I know you didn't like it. So… I've wondered, that's all."
Yoruichi sat quiet in the dark for some time, and Soifon wondered if she had pushed too far.
"Soifon, I'm not going to judge you for doing the same things I did. If I did, I'd feel like a hypocrite. If you didn't do them, somebody else would. They'd probably be worse at it, too. You really are a better stealth force commander than I was. I'm fine with that."
"…Good," Soifon said neutrally, feeling relieved.
"I missed this, you know?" said Yoruichi. "Just… being together. It's a bit like those old times, way back when. Even if there's no open night sky, or any ponds, and even if the conversation topics are… different."
"I missed it, too," Soifon said sincerely.
Yoruichi shifted around, and Soifon felt a bit disappointed as her old mentor's arm retracted. A second later, though, Yoruichi had lain down, putting her head in Soifon's lap.
"Like old times, right?" she said, smiling. "Except the roles are reversed."
"Y-yes," said Soifon, feeling warm, happy, although not very sleepy.
"Let's just relax, mmkay?" Yoruichi said, and yawned. "You and me both."
"Yes…" Soifon said. She felt… at peace. She stared down at Yoruichi's features, what part of them she could see in the dark, and smiled back. This was not the worst image to fall asleep to.
The plan was, in theory, simple. Grimmjow walked through the halls of Las Noches toward Szayel's laboratory, his mind burning with the uncomfortable, unfamiliar sensation of self-doubt. Yes, it was simple in theory, but it required him to rely on something he was not used to, on something he usually despised. Grimmjow was at heart a very honest person; if he wanted something, everyone involved usually knew his intent soon enough, with no room for doubt. If he wanted something, he'd beat, threaten, and bully until he got it, and if he wanted somebody dead, it happened very straightforwardly, either from the front or from an ambush. This… this required finesse, which was completely anathema to everything he was.
But, he reminded himself as he approached the labs, he couldn't afford that kind of pride anymore. What was most important was getting what he wanted, and how he got it was, ultimately, beside the point. Being hollow didn't mean a body stopped if one was uncomfortable.
He shrugged away the protests of one of Szayel's monstrous pets and marched into the lab complex. The wretched little scientist was undoubtedly more familiar with deceit than Grimmjow, meaning that the former espada would have to be as honest as his ploy allowed him to be. He marched into a hall filled with long tanks with colourful liquids in them, dark shapes barely discernible in their depths. Letting his reiatsu flare, he waited.
Sure enough, Szayel appeared to greet him within minutes, no doubt worried, if not for himself then surely for his specimens. Szayel was no pushover, but Grimmjow even now was still quite powerful, certainly moreso than any of the scientist's pet monsters.
"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Szayel irritably.
"We need to talk," Grimmjow said bluntly.
"No. I need to be left alone, and you need to leave."
"Listen," said Grimmjow, but he was cut off.
"Leave."
"Look, I'm here to pledge myself to you!" Grimmjow snapped angrily, the emotion sincere- if only because the idea was genuinely disgusting to him. This was the most important part of the lie; it had to work, or there would be no plan.
Szayel blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"
"You heard me," Grimmjow sneered. "I mean… hell, look at me right now, okay?"
"Excuse me," Szayel said haughtily, and Grimmjow knew gloating when he heard it. It was as good a sign as any. "Did I hear correctly? The proud, high and mighty Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, king panther, come to serve me?"
He let out a chuckle, and containing an urge to break the scientist's nose, Grimmjow felt a little triumph. That was the bait. Now for the hook.
"Look," Grimmjow said, his voice boiling with bitter revulsion, the tone of a man out of options, "ever since… that time-"
"When Lord Aizen had your arm severed for your failure."
"That," Grimmjow snapped. "Ever since then, I ain't right. I ain't got the power for anything. Not like an espada. I've seen the way some of 'em look at me. Sure, Lord Aizen declared peace and all, but that ain't gonna last. Sooner or later, one of 'em is gonna get me. That's the way it works, and you know it."
Szayel nodded. Sheltered as he was, he too had walked the cruel path of hollowhood.
"And you want my protection."
"You got Lord Aizen's favour."
"I do. Now… why would I take you in?"
His voice was content, satisfied. He was enjoying Grimmjow at his mercy, far too much for his own good.
"I ain't nothing," said Grimmjow. "Even with one arm, I'm stronger and faster than any of your dumbass pets. Now, a man like you, doing fuck knows what all day long, all that science-y shit… now, I bet you could use a hand. Somebody ruthless, hard, and willing to do whatever it took. Go out into the desert to hunt down hollows for you, anything that needs a bit of brutality. Don't tell me you got no use for that. I mean, look at your fuckin' pets- half a brain to share between all of them, ain't it so?"
"I made them," Szayel said sharply, and Grimmjow realized he had insulted the scientist.
"I'm sure that's what you wanted 'em to be," he added quickly, "but you could use more than that, couldn't you?"
Szayel gave him a long, scrutnizing look, and Grimmjow had to force himself not to hold his breath. Nothing could give away his real intent.
"Let's say I… were interested," said Sayel.
And there was the hook.
"I very much doubt you would give away this freely. Even now, you lack the bearing of a humbled man." The scientist smirked, and Grimmjow realized that Szayel still enjoyed this, enjoyed keeping him in suspense. Laugh it up, asshole, Grimmjow thought. This ain't ending well for you either way.
"It's a… setback," Grimmjow said, with the wounded pride of an egomaniac that had completely failed to learn his lesson, "but I ain't going to stop. I need something. This is as good a place as any. I use you, you use me. That's a hollow's bargain, ain't it?"
"That it is," said Szayel, "but of course, what a hollow is has changed."
"Like fuck you believe that," Grimmjow snorted. As much as the scientist was cowardly and weak, he had a ruthless streak quite too pronounced to suit their new lord's vision.
"Oh, I would never defy our master," said Szayel, and his tone told former espada everything he needed to know. He didn't believe it any more than Grimmjow.
"What's it going to be?" demanded Grimmjow. "You need a hand or not?"
Szayel smirked. "Suppose I do."
"Yeah?"
"What will you ask of me in return?"
"Protection, as I said," Grimmjow said, "some way to recover. First of all I need another fucking arm."
Szayel furrowed his brows briefly.
"Hmm. I suppose… yes, there is an experimental design I put together recently, as a bit of a… hobby project. It could do the trick."
"All right!" Grimmjow said triumphantly.
"Do not mistake this for charity," Szayel said sharply. "It is untested, and you will serve me by testing it."
"You got it!" Grimmjow said hurriedly.
"Just one thing…"
"Yeah?"
"Kneel. Swear to me. You'll serve me and only me, and nobody else."
"Uh…"
"Do it. Down on your knees."
He was really pushing it, and Grimmjow's face twisted into a sincere sneer. He really was enjoying it too much.
I can't afford pride. Slowly and reluctantly, he got onto one knee.
"Both knees."
Grimmjow growled, and obeyed.
"Now lower your eyes and swear."
Grimmjow lowered his eyes, and inwardly swore something quite different as he said, "I swear to serve you and only you… Master Szayel."
Szayel paused, and for a moment Grimmjow feared he would stop, that he would just humiliate him over nothing.
"Good enough. Not very convincing, but good enough. You'd never dare to betray me, of course, because I've got Lord Aizen's ear, and you know it."
"Yes… sir."
"Sir. I like the sound of it," Szayel said contentedly. "Very well. Stand."
Grimmjow stood.
"Follow me." Szayel motioned with his hand, and walked away. Grimmjow followed a few paces behind.
They walked in silence, Grimmjow stewing in hatred. This is temporary, he told himself over and over. This is going to be over soon…
After some time, Szayel led him into a brightly lit room, with neatly stacked tools and papers on shelves and tables.
"My personal workspace," Szayel explained. "Now, where did I put these designs…"
Grimmjow eyed the place, waiting as the scientist began rifling through his folders in a shelf by the far end of the wall. Far down the room, he saw a thick door, perhaps half his height, with a very solid kind of look. It was the kind of door designed to say 'just try it'.
Grimmjow waited a few minutes, as Szayel quickly went through stack after stack.
"Not here, no, not here…" he muttered.
"Anyway," Grimmjow said, sounding as bored as he could, "what's even in this place? Er, sir. Lots o' papers? Notes, that it?"
"I don't expect you to understand, underling," Szayel said absent-mindedly.
"What's that door way down there?" Grimmjow said, in the tone of a man extremely bored and not caring about anything, especially not the contents of a locked vault.
"Nothing, really," said Szayel, "just some unfinished designs I want kept out of reach for the time being."
It sounded convincing, and normally, Grimmjow might have believed it. But, he heard the faintest tensing of Szayel's voice, the slightest pause, and he knew all he needed to know. Szayel had lied, and that meant there was something valuable there. He'd struck gold- the scientist really had gotten arrogant.
"How d'you open a place like that?"
"Only my fingerprints can-" said Szayel, but then he paused, something dawning on him. "You know, you ask a lot of questions-"
Grimmjow had already begun moving, dashing forward with blinding speed. Szayel reacted quickly, reaching for his blade, but it was too late. He had turned his back on Grimmjow, turned his back on a potential enemy, and that was violating one of the fundaments of survival. He deserved it.
Grimmjow lashed out with his arm, grabbing the scientist by the face, his hand clamping over Szayel's mouth. Barreling into him, he unbalanced him, and slammed him into the floor. Szayel cried out through Grimmjow's hand, but before he could even struggle, Grimmjow had slammed his head into the floor, once, twice, three times, four times. Each time Szayel's skull slammed into the floor, he struggled a little less, until finally he lay still. A small trail of blood seeped across the floor from the back of his head, and Grimmjow grinned wide as he stood up. Szayel wasn't dead; Grimmjow could still hear him breathe, and ached to finish the job. Just having beaten him down, just having enacted some good, old-fashioned violence had given Grimmjow a high he hadn't felt for ages. To raise his foot and stomp on that smug little bastard's face until there was just paste left… the thought was exhilarating.
But, no. This plan relied on speed, on getting what he wanted as quickly as possible, then getting out. He wasn't afraid of any of Szayel's pets, but if one of them came here and sounded the alarm… if that happened, he'd be dealing with espada sooner than later, and there was no way he'd be able to do that. Restraining his bloodthirst, he reached down, grabbed the unconscious scientist by the wrist, and dragged him to the vault door. There was a small plate there, and Grimmjow paused to rip the glove off Szayel's hand. He fumbled a bit, cursing the fact that he had only one hand to work with. After what felt like an eternity- less than a minute, in real time- he got it off, and took Szayel by the hand, pushing the limp limb up against the plate. For a moment, nothing happened, and Grimmjow felt a horrible, sinking feeling. Work, damn it, work!
Then, to his immense relief, there was a faint click and the door swung open. Grimmjow let Szayel drop to the ground, and opened the door fully. It had a number of small shelves to it, and there were some instruments and trinkets inside that Grimmjow had no idea about. Most of all, there were stacks of folders kept inside, dozens of them, stacked neatly. With a speed and precision that would have amazed an onlooker, Grimmjow grabbed one stack of folders after another and quickly placed them on a nearby table. Once the vault was empty, he began going through them, one by one. His lacking understanding of it made the task no easier; Grimmjow knew how to read, a skill inherited from a long time past when he'd still been alive, still human, but he hadn't exercised it in ages, and even that considered, the scientific jargon was as Greek to him. He simply eyed through one folder at a time, looking for the juiciest information he could find.
To his frustration, one folder after another seemed as pointlessly boring, as Szayel had said. He snarled, throwing one stack of paper after another to the floor.
But then something caught his eye: a plain white folder, titled simply 'PROJECT THRONE'. At first, Grimmjow just rifled through it the same as he had gone through the others, but then he saw it: different styles of handwriting. Two entirely different sets of notes, both collaborating with each other. A wide grin spread across his face as he saw Aizen's signature on a set of notes. Stopping to read more carefully, Grimmjow looked at the folder. It was thick, some forty-odd pages of information and theory at least, and although much of it was alien to him, he started to see the intent.
Karakura. This had to be important. This was collaborated with Aizen- maybe even led by the bastard- meaning it was exactly what he looked for. Hastily, he put the papers back into the folder, closed it, and folded it in under his arm, before hastily running out from the labs. From here on, all he needed was to get clear, and open a portal…
It was noon, and Erza was supposed to be on duty, although she was making a very poor excuse for a captain at the moment. As commander, it was up to her to write a full review of the previous night's events. Soifon had already sent a report to Yamamoto, for his eyes only, but this was meant to be a recount for official record. Despite having a copy of Soifon's work to help her, Erza had made no progress; she had sat down by a desk in her apartment and simply stared at the paper and pen in front of her. She had been this way for over half an hour.
The night before was still alive in her head. She had barely slept at all, even after all was settled and done with. Old memories haunted her.
Erza had never forgotten her roots, had never forgotten her beloved Fairy Tail, but she had pushed those memories into a neat folder in a corner of her mind, to be opened at her convenience. She needed to focus on the here and the now, after all. Even moreso now, when she had the mantle of a captain to live up to, real responsibility and a real chance to make a difference.
Now, that neat little folder had been ripped open in a most violent manner. When she remembered Fioré, she usually thought of the good it meant to her. She would think of Makarov, of Natsu, of Gray, of all the comrades she had lost, of all the people that had been dear to her and the good times they had shared. She wouldn't often ponder the circumstances of her death- it was just a fact of life that one died, and there was nothing one could do about it. It was just something that was. Even rarer it was for her to think of him, because it had been her greatest regret. The friends she had left behind, the one who had become a vile mockery of what he had once been…
Jellal Fernandes. That he was dead didn't surprise her, but it seemed the cruelest twist of fate that he would come back to haunt her like this, in the employ of the one man whose betrayal had hurt her even more. How was she even supposed to feel about that? She was stuck in a rut, the previous night's events replaying over and over in her head, simply trying to come to terms with the reality of it. She was in turmoil, with anger, regret, hate, and sorrow all ravaging her soul at once.
"Erza?"
Erza jerked her head around to face the voice. It was Momo, and Erza felt a little awkward; she had reacted just now as if she had been caught doing something wrong. Well, strictly speaking, she was; wasting worktime wasn't right. But, that wasn't what had bothered her.
"Yes?" she croaked, too surprised to speak properly, having been too deeply sunk into her reveries and too quickly brought out of them.
"I was just wondering if you wanted to get lunch…" said Momo, having walked into the apartment without Erza even noticing. "Um, is everything… okay?"
"I'm fine," Erza said quickly. "Why wouldn't I be fine? Everything's fine. And dandy. Fine and dandy. Um… fine."
"Right…" said Momo. "Uh… are you sure?"
"Sure," Erza lied, and then a second later chastised herself for the dishonesty. "I mean, er…"
"It's not for me to say," Momo said gently, "but it doesn't sound like you're fine. Do you want me to leave you alone?"
"I…" Erza said, and paused, not sure what to say.
"Right," said Momo, and turned around. "I'll, um, come back later."
"Wait!" Erza cried out, louder and more anxiously than she knew she should.
Why, she didn't know. Perhaps she just hated the idea of lying, even if it was something this trivial. Perhaps she craved company. Perhaps she needed any reason, any reason at all, to not stare Jellal in the face in her mind's eye. Perhaps it was all of them.
"Yes?" Momo said, turning around.
"Look," Erza groaned, putting her face in her hands, "I'm… I'm not okay, actually. It's just… I… I mean, I'm a captain. I can't go… letting personal issues weigh me down."
"Is there something you need to talk about?" said Momo.
"I… yes," Erza mumbled, and stood up. "I mean, we're on duty…"
Momo glanced at Erza's desk, tellingly empty, and said, "I think we can make an exception for a little bit."
Erza nodded weakly. Giving her an encouraging smile, Momo walked up and took Erza by the hand, and Erza let herself be led to the couch. She slumped down into it as if she had just finished a back-breaking twelve-hour shift, and Momo sat down next to her, her legs tucked in under her.
"Did something happen last night?" she asked.
Erza nodded.
"Did you get hurt? I could always call Isane-"
Erza shook her head. "I'm not sure she could help. I mean, maybe she could, but… no, I wasn't wounded."
"So, what was it?" Momo said. Her tone was sweet, gently inquisitive, and Erza felt herself relax.
"Last night…" she said, taking a breath, "something happened that I never thought would happen."
"What was it?"
Erza shook her head wearily. "I… never told you much about where I came from, did you?"
"I know you're from another world," said Momo, "but no, you never talked much about it. Was it bad?"
"No," Erza mumbled, and a small smile spread across her face as she thought of her old guild. "No, it was… good. For the most part."
"I see. Then… what's wrong?"
Erza wasn't sure. She had never spoken much of her past life, for several reasons. It felt… private. These were memories that were hers and only hers. It was also in the past, which was where she felt it belonged. Looking forward was the only way she could look; dwelling on the past endlessly would get her nowhere.
"I don't remember a lot about my childhood," Erza said, taking a deep breath. "It was in a faraway land called Fiorè, in another world. I lived in a small village. I don't remember who cared for me, but I have no painful memories of the place, so I must have lived a decent life there. Magic was common in that land, that entire world, and even our little place knew that. Yes… yes, when I was little, it wasn't too bad. I don't know where I came from or who my parents were, but I was welcome there."
Momo listened attentively, at the edge of her seat.
"It didn't last," Erza continued. "One day, when I was… oh, I must have been around eight, ten years old, maybe? Somewhere around that time, they came."
"Who?"
"Slavers," Erza muttered darkly, balling her fist at the memory. Men in hoods, coming to take her away…
She felt Momo's hand on hers, and she relaxed.
"Cultists," she continued, "religious madmen following the example of an even madder monster. They took me, and a great many children from my village. They left my old home in ruins, and put me in chains along with all my childhood friends. We were marched for a long time… I remember being in pain, being afraid and hopeless. I remember the chains rubbing against my wrists and ankles till I had sores."
Momo clamped a hand over her mouth, a horrified expression on her face. "That's terrible!"
"It's what happened," Erza said with a shrug. "I was made a slave, and so were most of everyone I knew. We were made to work in a quarry, carrying stone to build a stone tower for some… perverse, dark ritual meant to bring this evil madman back to life."
"I'm so sorry," Momo said sympathetically, squeezing Erza's hand.
"It's in the past," said Erza calmly, although she squeezed back lightly. Speaking of it as she did now, after all these years, it hurt much less than she had expected. No, enslavement, powerlessness, the trauma of being ripped from her home: that, she had come to terms with. That was then. But Jellal…
"I… I spent a long time there," said Erza, "over a year, I think. I can't be sure. This happened over a hundred and ten years ago. But throughout all of that, I had my friends. I had Sho, Millianna, Simon, Wally and Jellal. Even when it was at its worst, I could always depend on them. We forged an unbreakable bond there, all together. Or, so I thought."
"What happened, then?"
"One of them devised a plan of escape," mumbled Erza. "He was the eldest of us, and the smartest and the boldest as well. That was Jellal, and he was… a precious friend."
"Well, obviously you escaped," said Momo, "but…"
"The others didn't," Erza said bitterly, unwilling to go any further into detail. "Yes, I got away, but they didn't, and…"
She shook her head.
"It's… in the past. I managed to run away, and when I was half-dead of starvation and exhaustion, the mage's guild of Fairy Tail found me. They took me in, nursed me to health, and became my new family. I had a talent for magic, it turned out- quite a considerable one, even. I stayed, I grew in power, I worked and made friendships, and it was as happy a time as I ever had."
"But it didn't last."
"Nothing lasts," Erza said bluntly. "When I was nineteen, and I was ranked the strongest female mage in my guild, I was kidnapped by my old friends and brought back to the Tower of Heaven, the accursed structure I had fled from all those years ago."
"You still call them friends after that?"
Erza nodded. "They had been… misled. Brainwashed. No, this was Jellal's doing. I… I don't know what happened to him, but in my absence he too had grown up, as mad and evil as the men who first took us, and every bit as dedicated to bringing back Zeref, the evil archmage. I escaped, only to find my guild had followed after me. Alongside my friends, we stormed the Tower of Heaven, defeated Jellal's henchmen, and that day I confronted him one last time. He had fulfilled a ritual meant to do great and terrible things, and…"
Erza paused. Her recollection of that time was… a bit blurry.
"And?"
"I died," Erza said flatly. "I beat him, and then I died from my injuries. I… I was killed by my best friend, the man who had turned my friends against me and attempted to summon the greatest of evils upon my homeland."
"I see…" Momo said, her voice a whisper. "I'm so sorry, Erza."
"It is what it is," Erza said, her voice trembling. "It was a long time ago now…"
She couldn't make her voice steady enough to even finish the sentence, and she was grateful to feel Momo squeeze her hand tightly.
"If it's too hard-" Momo started, but Erza took a sharp breath, and cut her off.
"It's not! No, I… it's just been a long time since… since I thought about them so much, that's all."
In her mind's eye, she could still see their faces, and it filled her with a bittersweet sensation.
"It's not being taken from my home," she insisted. "It's not my friends being turned against me. It's…" she shook her head.
"Ever since I ran away, I always felt… guilty. That I could escape while the others couldn't. That out of all these people, I alone could get out. Like it was somehow my fault."
"That's not your fault!" Momo said loudly. "You couldn't have helped it, Erza."
"I know that," Erza muttered, "but what the head knows and what the heart feels are two different things, and even if you can make your head go one way, it's hard making your heart go anywhere it doesn't want to. That… that was why I confronted Jellal. Not because I wanted to save all those people, but because I felt he was my responsibility. Because killing him, however much it hurt, that was up to me."
Momo shook her head. "I always wondered where you got it all from. Why you were always so… sure you knew what you were doing was right."
"I'm really not," Erza said, shaking her head. "At least, not the way you think I am." Erza took a deep couple of breaths. "So, you may be wondering where this is all coming from, right? Why talk about my past now?"
"I figured you'd get there."
"Last night…" Erza said, and there was a pregnant pause. "Last night, I saw him again. Jellal Fernandes. He had… he had become a hollow. One of Aizen's arrancar. Jellal is now an espada, serving the same bastard of a man who betrayed me. Both of them in the same camp, two devious snakes from my past at once. I… I haven't been able to focus on anything since."
Momo gaped a little, before closing her mouth.
"But… how?"
"I got here, didn't I?" said Erza gloomily. "And with what he did, I'm not surprised he went that way, either. I just… never thought I'd have to face him again."
"I understand," said Momo. "Should I tell the others you need some time?"
"I've had time enough," Erza said firmly, although she only half-believed it. "Just… getting it out there helped. A lot. Thank you, Momo."
"I'm happy to have been here for you," Momo said sweetly, her thumb rubbing across the back of Erza's hand, "honoured, even. You told me this… this horrible story that you kept to yourself all this time. If you ever need me, I'll be right here."
"Yes…" Erza said ponderously. "Yes, I suppose I did. I don't know- I guess I just feel… at ease around you."
"I'm glad," Momo said affirmatively.
Erza nodded, having run out of words. It really had helped, venting, letting somebody know. Sharing the burden… yes, having friends to share things like these with, that was what they were for, and she had been foolish to bottle it up. She could see that now.
"I think… I think that'll do," said Erza. "I have an official report to put together, after all. Thank you again, Momo. I feel… I feel better now."
"Any time."
Erza stood up, reluctantly letting go of Momo's hand, but she hadn't gotten to her desk before Soifon's kido-enhanced voice boomed across the room. The spell was used to communicate quickly under alert, and Erza immediately tensed.
"Red alert! Red alert! Espada-class energy signature spotted near Karakura Park! All available fighters, converge on the location immediately!"
The garganta closed behind him, and Grimmjow took a step forward, looking at the lush, green scenery around him. Out of the darkness, and into the light…
All he had to do now was wait. The file was tucked into his jacket, where it barely fit. His one arm on the hilt of his blade, he let his energy emanate. They would come, and when they did, they'd be in for the surprise of a lifetime.
Well now! What could Grimmjow possibly have up his sleeve? Surly it has to be one hell of a plan if he's taking such a huge risk. This my friends is where we start to make more bold changes to the Bleach cannon. Somethings will remain the same, but many, MANY things will change as well. It all starts here!
I'm eager to hear what you all have to save about this chapter. Please let us know what you think.