Hey everyone! We're back with another chapter! I'd like to thank everyone who bothered to leave a review for our last chapter, it really mean a lot! I don't have much to say this time around, so lets get right to the chapter!
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.
"Damn it, woman! Let me get up on my feet, you bitch!"
Grimmjow spat and snarled a mean game, and it would have been rather intimidating if not for the golden chains pinning him to the ground. He was on his knees on the ground of Urahara's enormous cellar, the kido-powered chains wrapped around his chest firmly anchored in the ground. The former espada was barely able to move.
"We're almost done here, I think," Urahara said cheerily, inquisitively bent over Tessai and Momo as the two of them quietly muttered their incantations, together forming what they had assured Erza was a very delicate, very unbreakable geas, a spell of compulsion. It was a contract of sorts, which Grimmjow had agreed to of his own free will- well, knowing that the alternative was that much worse, but it had to be done with consent or it wouldn't work, Tessai had explained.
Erza had made her instructions very, very clear, and when they were done, Grimmjow would officially be turned from panther to kitten.
"There," said Tessai firmly. "I believe this ought to finish the seal. Miss Hinamori, if you would do the honours of finalizing the spell?"
"Yes!" Momo said enthusiastically, quickly chanting something under her breath, weaving her fingers in a delicate pattern. It was impressive to watch her at work doing something she loved, Erza thought; she seemed so… alive, so in the moment, as if nothing else mattered. It was only when Momo looked up with a bright smile on her face that Erza realized that she had been staring, lost in thought.
"All done, captain!" Momo said brightly. "Mister Tessai, you may undo the chains."
"Certainly, Miss Hinamori," rumbled Tessai, and clamped his hands together, undoing the chains. As they burst, an angry Grimmjow rolled away from the two of them, then got onto his feet with surprising agility considering he'd been stuck in a chair for the better part of two days, and on his knees for over three hours during the time it had taken to complete the ritual.
"Motherfucker!" he spat, rubbing his neck.
As he removed his hand, Erza saw the seal glow briefly, before fading away seemingly into nothing. It was a simple design, just two long lines ending in an arrowhead, almost but not completely meeting. The seal could have fit in her palm, but she had been assured it was incredibly potent.
"Go get the others," she said, nodding to Momo. "We'll go through it all together."
"Gonna parade me in front of all your pathetic friends? Really rub it in?" Grimmjow spat, taking a step forward.
"You stay where you are," Erza said neutrally. Grimmjow stopped, but Erza knew it wasn't out of compulsion- complete mind control was out of bounds for what kido was allowed to even try to do, and Erza wouldn't have done it even if it were an option. Rather, Grimmjow knew his life hinged on her approval, and had enough sense to adapt.
She had put the word out not just for all shinigami on duty- save for Rangiku, who had stayed behind as a sentry in case of an invasion; this was a situation of impending war, after all- but Ichigo, Orihime, Uryu, Chad, and Tatsuki, as well. They all ought to know, and they all ought to see.
Within minutes, the rest of her team had arrived in a timely fashion, whereas the teenagers lagged behind a little. Before too long, there was a half-circle of shinigami and humans, staring down Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.
"Fuck you lookin' at?" Grimmjow spat. "I'll kill- I'll fuckin' break your legs, assholes."
"No, you won't," Erza said firmly, stepping forwards until she was just two feet from the former espada. She turned around, facing the assembly.
"I'm sure you all want to know why I summoned you here," she said.
"It's probably to do with the handicapped arrancar behind you, I'd guess?" Tatsuki said. "Just a guess, though."
"I think you got it right!" said Orihime, who was quite oblivious to the existence of sarcasm.
"This is Grimmjow," Erza said, disregarding both of the teenagers, "a defector from Aizen Sousuke's army. He's been here before as a warrior- now, he's had a change of heart."
"Too fuckin' right," Grimmjow said, and spat at the ground at the mention of Aizen's name. "I hate that bastard, asshole, rat prick, stick-up-his-ass, hypocrite scumbag motherfucker."
"That's… colourful," Ichigo muttered.
"I say change of heart, but it's really a change of hate," said Erza. "He's a homicidal monster by his own admission, and as such a danger to any one of you if we let him go freely. Which, of course, we won't. I brought you all here, so you can all know he's no longer a threat and why."
"Fuckin'…" Grimmjow spat, muttering a string of curses under his breath.
"He's weaker than he was before, but it's not enough," Erza continued. "As such, Tessai and Momo have provided us with a means of collaring him. Momo?"
"Yes, captain," Momo said perkily, taking a step forward. "We've placed a seal on his neck that set a number of conditions for him. Mister Jaegerjaquez, if you'd please raise your hand to strike my captain?"
Grimmjow gave Erza a suspicious glare, but Erza nodded. Hesitantly, Grimmjow raised a hand, made a fist, brought it down and…
The next moment he was bent over, breathing heavily, making gagging noises.
"Any attempt at violence that could not be defined as self-defense will render him totally nauseated," Momo explained, "and if he were to persist…"
Grimmjow snarled, stood himself upright and lunged for Erza, only for his snarl to turn into a howl.
"…then it turns into an overstimulation of his nervous system. That is to say, acute pain in every part of his body."
"Motherfucker…" Grimmjow squealed, lying in a twitching heap on the ground.
"You've had worse," Erza said, determined not to show him any pity in front of her colleagues. She pulled him up by the collar of his vest.
"Stand, you bastard. You're not here to sleep."
"You're a bitch, Red," Grimmjow said weakly. "You're a fuckin'…"
He trailed off, a weary look on his face. It was strange; without malice, glee or anger in his face, he looked quite… human.
But, Erza was not about to forget what he was.
"Just stand up straight," she said firmly.
"It passes quickly," Momo continued in her explanation. "We're not excessive."
Indeed, Grimmjow seemed to recover quite well, an angry frown returning to his features.
"Additionally, it restrains his power quite severely, and can be used to easily track his location within a hundred mile radius."
Erza raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. I hadn't even thought to ask for that."
"We do our best," Momo said bashfully, beaming at the praise.
"Wasn't there one more thing, though?" said Erza.
"Oh, right," Momo said hastily. "If he gets too rowdy, we have a word of command to subdue him. Anyone could say it, to the same effect. Captain, you may choose it at will. Simply say, 'command,' followed by one word of your choosing."
Erza looked at Grimmjow.
"This is strictly for demonstrative purposes, I hope you know," she said under her breath. "I don't get off on humiliating people, even if they're murderers."
"Go fuck yourself, Red."
"Command: kneel," said Erza, deciding to choose a simple word, easily pronounced.
Immediately, Grimmjow sunk down onto all fours.
"The fuck?" he spat. "It's like- it's like-"
"Like somebody put a very heavy weight on your back," Momo explained. "It's all psychological, actually. Very subtle," she said proudly.
"Stand," said Erza, and Grimmjow quickly stood up, the second part of the spell dismissing the effect.
"Happy now?" he said, hate seething from his voice.
"Satisfied," said Erza. "For now, you'll stay here in the basement. An improvement from the cell, I'd imagine."
Grimmjow didn't answer, simply looking at her with barely suppressed rage.
"You will answer to Soifon when I'm away. You'll answer any of her questions. You'll play nice, or… well, you'll feel the repercussions. You're allowed to move around freely in here, but do not attempt to escape. We'll find you, and you'll regret it."
"Wanna take that blade of yours and cut off my ball sack while you're at it?" he spat.
"That won't be necessary. Play along, and maybe you'll get what you want. Don't, and it'll be all the worse for you. That's it."
She turned around and begun walking away, pointing toward the exit. The others caught the hint, and headed out along with her.
"Oh, but wait!" Grimmjow shouted angrily. "Ain't you gonna go the full way and grind my face into the dirt with your foot while you're at it? Make me eat a bucket of shit? Ain't you gonna-"
"Kneel," Erza said, and instantly, Grimmjow sunk down on all fours. She turned to Momo. "How long does that last?"
"A few minutes, unless you dismiss it."
"Right, then," said Erza. "Good. Let's all head up, then. We've got work to do."
Life was funny. Just a week ago, Ichigo's life had been dominated by all-consuming dread, a fear for his own life and for those of his sisters and parents. He had been pushing the boulder of Sysiphus, with the end of the hill nowhere in sight. Now his step was light and excitable as he left the school grounds, finished for the day. A light euphoria had replaced the dread, an underlying happiness born from relief unlike any he had ever felt. Two days, now. Two days of a caged hollow; two nights in which he had slept soundly for the first time in months. It was like walking on clouds; like he flew across the ground rather than walk.
He was alive and well. His family wasn't going to get killed by an inhuman beast. What else, he had power of a kind that dwarfed the strength he'd had when he first walked into the Soul Society. A war was coming, he knew, and they were far removed from danger, but it felt… distant. Any non-immediate danger felt unreal, like something he could conquer no matter what. After such a trial by fire, he really felt like he could do anything.
"Hi-ii, Ichigo!"
Joining him on his walk home was Orihime. Ichigo had left before Keigo or Mizuiro could bother him; he had preferred to be alone with his thoughts, but Orihime's presence was not one he minded.
"Hi, you," he said contentedly, a small smile on his face. It wasn't particularly clever, but Ichigo knew he did not need to impress her.
"You stopped frowning," she said cheerily. To an objective observer it would have seemed an innocuous remark, but Ichigo knew as well as she that it was her way of politely asking if he had sorted himself out.
Or, well, maybe it wasn't at all, but all the same he felt keen to tell her. He wanted somebody to know, and it had to be somebody who was in the know.
"I fixed it," he said, exhilaration under his breath, "the hollow in my head. It's… right, now."
"It's gone?"
He shook his head. "Nah. It isn't, and it never will be. But… Urahara's friends, they helped me put it in its place. Cage it. I'm all right now. I still gotta train to make sure it stays put, but… the worst is behind me."
More than relief, he felt considerable pride in saying it. He had been put to the test, and he had not been found wanting. It had been do-or-die, and he had done.
"That's great news," Orihime said cheerily. "I'm not sure I understand how it works, but I'm happy for you, Ichigo."
"It's crazy," Ichigo said, shaking his head, the smile still staying on his face. "Now that I got it under control, I'm… stronger than before. I can protect you all now. I can protect the whole town by myself."
He was practically bragging now, he realized, but he couldn't quite stop himself.
"So, what'd your parents think?"
Just like that, she had taken a needle to his balloon.
"Uh…" he said, prolonging the grunt well past reason to buy time, "I, er, I mean…"
"I just figured since you told me, you had to have told them already, right? Since it's your parents, and all."
Twist the knife, why don't you?
"I mean… I… didn't tell them yet?" Ichigo said embarassedly.
"Oh. That's strange."
He was disappointed, he realized, that she hadn't said it any more harshly than that- because when it came down to it, he should have told them. It was just…
"…It's just that, um," he said, "I kinda… forgot?"
"No, I don't think so," Orihime said, in a tone that was dangerously sober for a girl normally so air-headed. "I might have forgotten, because I'm me. But, you're not me. You didn't forget, did you, Ichigo?"
"No-oo," Ichigo amitted grudgingly, "I mean… no, I didn't, I just…"
"Then, why did you say you did?"
She sounded sweet and completely innocent, which made the jabs all the more pronounced. It was like being bitten by a large, friendly dog. Somehow, she knew just where to push, and she did it in such a way that he couldn't protest without seeming foolish.
"I… don't know, okay? I'm just being stupid, I guess."
He paused.
"I am, aren't I?"
"That's not for me to say," Orihime said, still content to play nice.
"It's just… I was gonna tell them. And soon!"
He added that last part with particular emphasis, as if to convince himself it was true. Maybe it was, but maybe it wasn't.
"Ichigo," Orihime said with the firm, gentle force of the grinding stone of a mill, "wouldn't your mother want to know?"
"…Yes," he admitted, pained to do so.
"So, why shouldn't she?"
"It was my problem to sort out, okay?"
Orihime stopped walking, and Ichigo not a second after her. She turned to look him in the eye, and Ichigo swallowed. Since when did she have such a piercing stare?
"You don't have to do it all on your own, you know. In fact, you shouldn't. What are friends and family for if you can't rely on them when you need to the most?"
She was right, of course. That was the most damnable thing of all. She had him in a box here, and there was no way out.
"I'll tell her when I get home," he promised, "first thing."
"O-kay," Orihime said, her severity instantly replaced with her normal, bubbly cheer. "I'll walk you home, then. To make sure you don't forget."
"…Yeah, whatever," Ichigo muttered.
"And don't frown. You look much better when you smile."
"I'm not frowning!"
"Tell that to your eyebrows."
Bickering lightheartedly, the two of them went their way toward Ichigo's home.
"Right," said Masaki, with the kind of cool, collected calm that Ichigo knew to dread, "let me get this straight."
They were sat in the living room, Orihime by his side, his parents opposite of him.
"You have a hollow in your head. It's been there since you were conceived. And ever since you entered Soul Society with the rest of them, it's been eating your soul little by little, and you very, very nearly died fixing that."
"Not very very nearly," Ichigo objected weakly. "It was more like… mildly fatally dangerous."
"Mildly," said Masaki plainly.
"Son, don't," said Isshin, quietly raking his hand across his neck, motioning Ichigo to stop. "I'm not any happier about this than your mother, but just for advice, you're just making it worse for yourself."
Keeping quiet, Ichigo nodded.
"He was just telling me he was sorry he didn't tell you sooner as we walked home," said Orihime, and Ichigo was equal parts appalled and impressed at the casual ease of the lie.
"That's nice, Orihime," said Masaki, in a tone that very clearly spelled out how much that meant to her.
"Look, mom-" Ichigo said, but she raised a finger, and he piped down.
"Young man," she said firmly, her voice rising slightly, "I trust you have a very good explanation?"
"He doesn't," said Orihime, this time opting for honesty. "He's been very stupid, and he's very sorry about it."
Ichigo nodded almost zealously.
Masaki shrugged, and let out a long, loud sigh.
"Why couldn't it be drugs?" she said exasperatedly. "Or, knocking up some girl, or being in a gang, or getting mixed in with the wrong crowd? Why couldn't it be any of the one hundred and one things a mother has to worry about already? No, it just had to be a parasitic hollow eating up your soul from the inside!"
"To be fair, love," said Isshin meekly, "it's our family, isn't it? We're not exactly normal."
"Are you defending him?" Masaki demanded with the kind of dominant, authoritative fury that would have made any dictator green with envy.
"No, ma'am!" Isshin said quickly.
"It's fixed now, mom," Ichigo said hastily. "It's not a danger anymore. I mean… I kinda have to train every day to make sure it isn't and it's never going to go away and… I mean, it's sorted."
"Well, isn't that marvelous to hear?" said Masaki, rolling her eyes. "Oh, yes, now I feel so much better-"
"It came to me in my dreams!" Ichigo said loudly, prepared to shout if he had to. "For weeks on end! And every time it was the same thing, mom!"
"And what was that, then?" Masaki demanded furiously.
"It was you and dad," Ichigo said severely. "It made me see the both of you, killed and half eaten. And each time… each time it ended up with me being the one that ate you."
Masaki's furious expression softened as she saw the anxiety in her son's face.
"For weeks now I've barely seen you, right?" Ichigo continued, in between excitable and terrified. "I've been up before you left and home after you fell asleep. It's because I couldn't look you in the eye! I felt like… I felt like I was a danger to you both, to Karin and Yuzu. And I was! It was just a matter of time. I was stupid, I know, but… I was afraid, all the time, and I didn't know what to do with myself. I should have told you, but I couldn't, I- I just- I couldn't."
"Ichigo…" Masaki said slowly, the anger draining from her face, "is that true?"
"Every bit of it," Ichigo said, nodding fiercely. His voice trembled, and he fought to keep it steady. "I'm glad just to be alive. I told myself I'd tell you after I got it sorted, but I put it off a bit, because…"
He sighed.
"That really was just me being stupid. Sorry, mom."
Masaki rose from her seat and sat down next to him. She affectionately put an arm on his shoulder, gently rubbing it.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that," she said simply, "but Ichigo, you can't just keep something like that to yourself. When I grew up, I had a terrible family I couldn't rely on. I'd have given anything to have it better. Now, don't you have that?"
"I do," he said weakly.
"I want you to promise me if something like this happens again, you let me know."
"I promise," Ichigo said, feeling quite moved. He ought to say more, perhaps, but he didn't have the words.
"Right," said Masaki with a sigh. "I can tell this has been hard on you."
Ichigo nodded.
"For now, why don't you go get a rest?"
"…Yeah," said Ichigo, relieved not to have to say anything further.
"You're not off the hook entirely, young man," Masaki said, although the strictness in her tone was far laxer than before, more for show. "You are grounded for two weeks, aside from that… training of yours. Is that clear?"
"…Yes, mom," said Ichigo, marvelling a little at the absurdity of being grounded for something like this.
"Right," said Masaki, seeming to have run out of words. "You go to your room, then. I'll have to go make dinner soon, anyway. And don't do this again!"
With that, she marched out into the kitchen. Ichigo straightened up.
"Well, I'll see you later, Ichigo," said Orihime cheerily. "Doesn't it feel better now?"
Ichigo muttered something inaudible but nevertheless clear in its meaning, and watched her leave.
"You mark my words, son," Isshin said with a grin. "She's a keeper, that one. If she's willing to back you up like that, she's good."
Inwardly, Ichigo felt relieved to have something normal to react to, but outwardly he rolled his eyes and said, "Dad, shut up."
"Come on, son-" Isshin grinned, but Ichigo had had enough; if his mom's word wasn't enough of an incentive to go up to his room, his father's cringeworthy 'wisdom' about women was.
"I can't hear you," he said, practically storming up the stairs. "Not a word, dad!"
His voice was quite typically harsh, but there was a slight smile on his face. When all was said and done, it had been a lot less painful than he had expected.
Erza had left Byakuya in charge of military matters for a couple of hours while she caught up on paperwork from her division. With both its captain and vice-captain absent, her third and fourth seats were quite overworked, and Erza had no intention of leaving them behind. Although bureacracy was far from her forte, a responsibility was a responsibility, and much of what she had had delivered to her this morning was of a nature quite beyond the ability or authority of a third seat, anyhow.
Thankfully she had Momo with her, whose administrative experience dwarfed Erza's. She signed another sheet of papers, dealing with a small scuffle between some of her officers and those of the seventh division, and looked up from her desk.
"How are we coming along?" said Momo brightly, carefully placing a thick stack of papers onto Erza's desk.
"…Well, I'm doubting if we'll be done by nightfall," said Erza, who had made quite a bit of headway in her last stack, only to see another pile added to her workload.
"Don't worry," Momo assured her. "Most of this stuff just needs your signature. The leading officers are handling themselves well enough. It's not the first time a captain and vice-captain are absent from their division. We delegate for a reason."
"I guess you're right," Erza said, thoughtfully taking a sip of lukewarm tea from the mug she kept beside her ever-growing load of papers. "Although, frankly, I'm starting to miss the times when I was being chased around the Gotei as a traitor…"
"Oh, don't say that."
"Fetch me another stack, will you?" said Erza dismissively. "I think we can fit one more on the edge of the desk if we're careful…"
"Yes, captain!" Momo said brightly, and trotted off.
As the vice-captain fetched another stack, she thought to herself that, for all her captain's grouching about paperwork, they had been quite efficient. They had worked for two hours now, and they were nearly done. Most of the work was already handled back at the division, sure, but Erza wasn't bad at administrative work. Not brilliant, but certainly rather good for somebody with so little experience of it.
After she went and placed down the stack on her captain's desk, she sat down opposite of Erza and began to put in some work herself, picking out paperwork that only needed a vice-captain's hand with the expediency of a seasoned bureaucrat.
However, after a few minutes she realized that her work was… slower than usual. Not that Erza minded or even noticed, but it was. Momo's mind kept drifting places outside the practical, and daydreaming was definitely not her usual style.
It was impossible not to, to an extent. The war itself as a prospect was distracting enough, but then there was also her kido training with Tessai- and the man's knowledge on the subject was absolutely fascinating- but then there was her conversation with Tobiume the evening before…
Bankai. The very concept had seemed totally unattainable to Momo when she had first entered the divisions after graduation. Sure, she had been among the best in her class, and sure, she had quickly climbed the ranks… sure, she was quite well above the average. She had never thought of herself as an elite, not particularly… but if one looked at the facts, she sort of was. But, she had, all things considered, never thought it was an option for a very long time.
Something had caused a change in her, and that thing was Erza. It was for Erza that Momo had sought out unorthodox, questionable power, and it was for her she had lived for twenty years; it was for her she lived now. Momo had sought power and gained it, honed her skills, become a better version of herself, and now suddenly bankai was actually on the table. It was actually unbelievable, she thought as she absent-mindedly filled out a form, how far she had come.
All for one person.
Something about Tobiume's words from the day before had stayed with her- not just her choice of words, in retrospect, but how she had said it.
Your heart's desire.
What had she even meant by that? Momo had what she wanted. She was serving under her mentor and idol, under somebody who loved and appreciated her as a friend and subordinate. Something real, instead of the false, manipulative exploitation she'd had under Aizen.
Had she meant that Erza was her reason for being? She had to have. What other reason could there be?
Moreover, why did she feel she had to ask herself that question, if the answer was so obvious?
"You alright there?" Erza said, with a raised eyebrow.
"Y-yes!" Momo squeaked, quickly brought away from her reveries by her heart's desire, whatever that meant. Blushing lightly, she quickly started scribbling down the paper sheet so furiously that she almost broke her pencil.
"…Right, then," said Erza.
Momo stared down into the paper as if it was the most fascinating object she had ever seen, like she had just discovered the cure for world hunger, anything to hide the growing redness in her face.
What was even going on? Stupid Tobiume, with her stupid words!
In her head, Momo felt the zanpakutou's smug cheer, as if it knew something she did not.
"…and then there's that prick Ulquiorra. Stick up his ass bigger than that self-righteous asshole you got who wanted me dead, and that's saying something."
"Focus on practicalities," Soifon demanded. "His strength. His powers. Any weaknesses."
The interrogation was considerably more relaxed this time, Grimmjow lazing with his back against a rock, Soifon sitting cross-legged opposite him, but the former espada had no illusions about it. He was thoroughly in their grip, powerless to change any of it, and if she cared to, she could reduce him to a whimpering mess just by saying the right word.
"Fuck, I dunno…" Grimmjow muttered, scouring his mind for information. He would much rather have thrown out a string of curses and imaginatively crude insults, but whatever was left of his pride resented deeply the idea of being made to kowtow to a shinigami.
"I toldja already, I dunno much. Numbers one, two, three, and four all didn't show much of their power."
"Why is that?" Soifon asked curiously. "Isn't hollow society built around strength? Wouldn't they have to demonstrate it?"
Grimmjow rolled his eyes.
"Shows what you know. Hollows know 'em by name. It's suicide to take on a vasto lorde if you ain't one yourself, for starters, but even if you was… even if you was, you'd know the names. You'd know who Ulquiorra Cifer was. Or Tier Halibel, or Barragan Luisenbarn, or Coyote Starrk. Names ain't just names. They means something. Makin' a name for yourself is the same as other hollows learning you can't be fucked with. When you're that strong, you don't have to fight all the time 'cause the only people capable of challenging you are other namers, and they don't like gambling."
"Fascinating," Soifon said neutrally. "These insights into hollow culture would surely be quite stunning to some of our researchers, but I am not a researcher, Grimmjow. Facts. Details."
Grimmjow shrugged. "Kept under wraps. I told you some already, didn't I? Barragan? He was king, and everyone knew what he could do."
"A breath attack with absolute corrosion as a result, yes," said Soifon. "It's been noted. What else?"
"Fuck me…" Grimmjow muttered.
"How about Starrk? He's the primero, after all."
"Fucked if I know. The bastard just turned up. Was surprised to learn he was even real."
"What do you mean?"
"See, 'Coyote Starrk', that was a tall tale, far as I knew. Some hollow far out in the wastes so insanely strong that nobody could touch 'im. So strong people died just from bein' around 'im. Lotsa legends goin' on among hollows like those. We got our own scary stories, ya know?"
"And he just… turns up."
"Apparently Aizen helped him control his power, or some shit," Grimmjow said with a shrug. "All I know is he's madly powerful, more than even Barragan was, and he made it to the top the old-fashioned way, on a mountain of skulls and a river of blood."
"Figuratively, I assume."
"Don't know what that means, but he didn't actually stack a million skulls into a pile, if that's what you're askin'."
"A hollow that powerful…"
"Yup. 'Bout half of you lot are gonna die. You know that, right? And that's if you're all lucky."
"Let's focus on the subject at hand. Just how strong is he? Stronger than Aizen?"
"Maybe," Grimmjow said thoughtfully, "although that bastard's plenty strong on his own. Whatever it is, hollows don't got those sneaky fuckin' powers you shinigami got. Ain't nobody getting around those illusions."
Soifon nodded slowly, appearing deep in thought.
"I think that shall do it for now, arrancar. I have other duties to attend to, at any rate."
"What?" Grimmjow said, his surprise only half mocking. "That was what, just an hour? What happened to grillin' me over nothin', over and over?"
"It won't be necessary," said Soifon, and stood up. She made a move to turn around and walk away, but she paused, and gave Grimmjow a look.
"You're improving, I would say. Keep this up, and it shall benefit us both."
"Eat shit, Tiny," said Grimmjow flatly.
Soifon gave him another look.
"Kneel," she said, and instantly, Grimmjow was down on the ground, muttering swears under his breath.
"Progress, though," said Soifon as she turned around and begun walking away, "is often a slow-moving process."
Soifon made her way toward the cellar exit. It had felt petty to humiliate the arrancar like that, but then again, as far as Soifon was concerned, he was an animal and a potential threat and had to be taught his place if he was to have a place with them. She did not share the commander's liberal sentiments- a hollow was a hollow, and once he had given them all he could, the safest and most sensible course of action would be purgation. A quick, smooth, and painless death, of course, because although she was head assassin of the Gotei Thirteen, she was not uncivilized.
"Captain Soifon!"
Soifon had almost failed to notice the approaching figure, Arisawa Tatsuki. Why she indulged the child's interests, she wasn't sure; the girl would never attain the same level of skill as a properly trained shinigami with such a lax, part-time training regimen, but all the same Soifon refrained from saying so. Perhaps the effort itself was worthy of some appreciation, if not praise.
"Tatsuki," Soifon said, stopping as the teenager ran up to meet her.
Tatsuki, a bit short of breath, abruptly halted, an excited expression on her face. She was a curious thing, not unlike a puppy-dog. Clumsy and inexperienced, yet doggedly spirited and determined, despite an almost total ignorance of what the context of her martial skills really meant.
"I trust you have kept up with your lessons?" said Soifon. She had, on a few occasions, deigned to instruct the girl directly herself. Something about passing on a set of skills was appealing, although she felt rather ambivalent about passing on anything to somebody whose loyalty to the Gotei was not assured.
"I have!" Tatsuki said with an eager nod.
"Every day?"
"Four hours every day after school!" Tatsuki said proudly.
Given her schedule, that was rather a lot. In a very small way, Soifon was impressed.
"And your progress?" she said plainly, not letting any emotion sneak into her voice.
"Better every day," Tatsuki said confidently. "When I first went into the Soul Society, to, uh…"
"Illegally breach Gotei property and assault its officers," Soifon reminded her, and although her voice was quietly stern, she felt a little amused at Tatsuki's flustered reaction.
"Yes, yes, that," Tatsuki said, "uh, that thing, at that time… back then, I was strong but I didn't have a hold on anything, really, except on a basic level… but now, I can feel myself. Like, feel myself. I know where I am all the time when I fight. I'm starting to get hold of my spiritual energy. It's not just this… passive thing anymore."
Basic reiatsu awareness, then, the kind of thing first-year students would be learning at the academy and perfect across years, even decades of service. The girl's backward progress was in itself fascinating to Soifon, if at least partly in the same way a wrecked train was. To gain strength of this measure without first having gained full knowledge of how to master it was as upside down an approach as Soifon could have thought of, and she found herself wanting to correct it. However, one wanted many things, but duty never waited.
"Very good," she said, making sure to keep the compliment as unemphatic as possible. Overt praise was a sure way to grow arrogance and overconfidence in any adept, in Soifon's experience. All the same, Tatsuki beamed.
"My staff, you know," she said, and Soifon could tell she had been aching to tell anyone, "Urahara devised it for me so I could access my power, but… at this rate, I won't need it for too long. If I can just get hold of it properly, I'll start catching up to the others for sure."
Soifon nodded. Having role models was important for motivation, and setting goals likewise.
"Set the bar high and settle only for all that you can accomplish," she said sharply. "Anything else is to let yourself down."
"Yes, captain!"
Soifon had a sudden urge to frown, but resisted; she would rather not show any emotion in a professional context if she could help it. She had said the same exact words to fresh adepts of the stealth corps before, many times, and they had beamed much the same, although in a much more subdued manner. Was that how she thought of this girl, now? A subordinate? A protégé, even?
She shook the idea off of her mind. If she survived the war, she would soon be back at her post in the Gotei, and from then on she'd be surprised if she saw this girl again before her natural death.
"Actually," said Tatsuki, oblivious to Soifon's distracted musings, "I'm even working on something new…"
"Oh?"
"Well, it's, uh, very experimental," said Tatsuki hastily, "but I'm sorta trying to make something of my own… something that fits my style."
"See that you do so carefully," said Soifon, a bit torn. On the one hand, she firmly believed one had to learn to walk before one could run, that a technique of one's own developed before a solid grasp of the basics would be flawed. Then again, Tatsuki was dedicated and hard-working, and she could need the extra punch as a mere human, however strong.
"Yes, captain."
"Let me tell you this much," Soifon said after some deliberation. "No technique is ever perfected, and never let yourself be fooled into thinking it is. What you develop now, you may in a few years scoff at as a foolish, clumsy, and uninformed attempt, quite worthless compared to where you are now. This," she added as she saw the look of dejection on Tatsuki's face, "is as it should be. You cannot succeed without first having learned failure. You will learn more from failure than you ever will from success."
Tatsuki blinked.
"I'm, uh, surprised to hear you say that."
"Why is that?"
"Well…" Tatsuki said, shifting awkwardly, "you're, like… a captain and commander of a whole corps of spies and such. I wouldn't think you'd value failure."
"On the contrary, I take it to heart. I learn from it. Do you think I sprung out of my mother's womb, already a master? All skill is learned, Tatsuki. I was once clumsy and ignorant, myself. Some people have a particular aptitude for whatever they do in life, but nine tenths out of everything anyone does comes down to hard work, to repetition, to dedication and determination. You will grow strong not from some innate affinity for the spiritual, but through training and self-reflection. That is the only path to strength- discipline and dedication."
"Discipline and dedication," Tatsuki mumbled. "Yes… that does make sense."
Soifon nodded. She hadn't meant to give the young woman such a speech; it had come naturally as a spur of the moment. Imparting knowledge, she realized, was a satisfying thing in and of itself.
"Well, off you go, then," she said sternly. "Work hard as I told you, and who knows? You may be as strong a defender of your town as there ever was."
Tatsuki nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, sensei!"
Sensei? Soifon thought, as she watched the girl run off to train some more. The word had its charms, didn't it?
Byakuya had been relieved at last, and at the insistence of the commander, he had gone back to the hotel room where he and his sister had been staying. He would rather have stayed on duty, but the commander was within her rights to order him. Naturally, he was ready to react at a moment's notice to any incursion, but grudgingly- very grudgingly- he had to admit that he, too, needed his rest.
He had slipped into his gigai, still getting used to the quaint sensation of confinement- and in such a weak body, too- and walked back to his room. Once he had closed the door, he heard a clattering from the other room. It would be Rukia, he assumed; his sensory skills were rather dulled in this artificial body. He walked into the living room to find his sister sitting cross-legged on the couch, a 'lap-top' resting across her lap. He wasn't sure how the technology functioned, but it was apparently quite a source of entertainment.
"Brother!" Rukia said, slamming the device shut and putting it on the table, almost standing to attention as she rose to face him.
"Rukia," he said, acknowledging her with a nod. He sat down, and although he would not admit it, it felt good to be seated after such a long shift. For a little while, he sat in silence, his mind drifting off. This mission was quite taxing, in its own way. He wanted very badly to test his mettle against Aizen's abominations, and although he could see the logic of the arrancar prisoner being allowed to live, it felt wrong that so far, they had killed only chaff, and the one bigger fish that had swam into their net was beyond them. Only on the battlefield could he gain some sense of honour, atone for his failure…
Only there would he find salvation. Only there would he find release.
Something had eaten at him, he realized, longer than he had been aware of it. His honour and integrity had been compromised, and although there were good excuses- involving perfect hypnosis and arch-treason, no less- Byakuya had never believed in excuses. His world had always been neatly black and white. There was honour and dishonour. There was good and evil. There was law and disorder. He had always known on what side of these he stood, until very recently when he had stood on the wrong side of all three. Rukia believed he had come along to keep an eye on her, and though true, this was not the whole story at all.
Logically, he could see why he could, perhaps even should be more lenient. Nobody could have known about this plot. Nobody could have predicted it. Even the wisest of the wise, Yamamoto himself, had been fooled, and it was only a cruel twist of fate that Byakuya had been struck in such a particularly vicious way by it.
However, his upbringing, his entire character had never prepared him for anything like nuance or shades of grey. A failure, to Byakuya, was a failure no matter how good the reason. Even as a young man he had viewed the world as simply as he did now, and the death of his parents and his disobedience had only solidified it. He had let her down. He had been fooled. He had been shamed. He had become dishonourable, criminal and wrong.
That, he knew, was the truth of why he sought battle so early. Only by combating the lies and cruelty of Aizen Sousuke could he undo the damage done. Only then could he be Kuchiki Byakuya. Because if Kuchiki Byakuya was not a man of honour, then who was he?
"Brother?"
Despite having been deep in thought, Byakuya coolly turned his head and looked his sister in the eye, quite alert.
"Yes?"
"I went off duty a couple hours earlier than you," she said, sounding as if half ashamed of the fact, "and you got a few messages from the clan."
"Anything of relevance?"
He felt tired at the notion, weary in his very soul. Clan politics could be tedious at the best of times, but now?
"The usual complaints from the usual factions," said Rukia, her tone businesslike. "Somebody's great-uncle slighted somebody else's great-great-grandfather, and they're very cross about it. I believe you know how it usually looks, brother."
He nodded wearily.
"There were some practical matters, as well," continued Rukia, "some concerns about a possible land dispute with the Shihoins to the north of the clan's holdings, and a marriage proposal from the Kasumi-Ouji clan."
"I see."
"I…" said Rukia, hesitating, "I believe I may have overstepped my bounds."
"In what sense?" said Byakuya, not quite mustering the will to sound quite as stern as he otherwise might have. The longer he sat, the longer he was left alone with his mind, the wearier he felt.
"I… made some suggestions, brother. Frankly, all of these concerns are quite beneath you at a time like this, especially when you are out on active duty. So…"
"So?"
"I made some suggestions," Rukia said quickly, "about how I believed you would want these issues resolved. To be ratified by you at a later time, of course. Or reversed, if necessary."
"What were these suggestions?" said Byakuya, keeping the same calm exterior he always did. Whether he disapproved or not, Rukia would never know; a useful trait in politics but less so for family matters.
"The political complaining, I just dismissed; this is no time to be squabbling amongst each other. The land dispute isn't even a dispute, just a minor disagreement, so I told the landholders to get to the bottom of it themselves instead of bothering their clan leaders. The marriage proposal I rejected, because the Kasumi-Oujis are a minor house and the dowry was frankly well below what a family marrying up should offer."
Byakuya sat quiet for some time. It was, in fact, exactly what he would have done, had he received the tidings himself. And having to deal with them, weary as he was, would have been quite a nuisance; the long-winded, civil wording demanded for formal clan matters was time-consuming and added another layer of tedium and ceremony that he had never much cared for. A clan head's sister, on the other hand, had no cause to be so formal, so it was no surprise she had handled it more quickly.
"Brother?" Rukia said pleadingly.
"You did this uncalled for? Without my approval?"
"My deepest apologies," Rukia said, bowing deeply. "I really should have waited-"
"I want you to send a message, post-haste," said Byakuya calmly, "ratifying each one of those decisions. It is best to get my sign of approval on it before any of our fool relatives make a mess out of your decisions."
"Y-yes, brother," Rukia said, perplexedly rising from her bow.
"Was there anything else?"
"Um. Uh. No, brother, not that I can think of."
"Understood. Well, what are you waiting for? Send the message."
"Y-yes, brother!" Rukia said firmly, and rushed off to craft a hell butterfly to transmit the message.
He should tell her, he thought to himself, that he had rather appreciated the gesture. That she had done well. That although technically a bit of overreach, it was in fact an acceptable one. That her judgment had been sound and that if such petty business came his way in the future, she could feel free to deal with it.
He even wanted to. But, all the same, he didn't. Something about speaking plainly the thoughts on his mind still didn't sit right with him, even if it was to the one person who still meant something to him. A man did not show his heart, his grandfather had taught him, except to his wife. To all others, he had to be strong, stern and inscrutable. It was a lesson he had taken to heart, and it had served him well, but at the same time… at the same time, he begun to question it. He had thought he was consistent with his beliefs all along, and where had it taken him?
But Rukia was already off, and Byakuya knew he would not make a particular effort to go out of his way to praise her. He wasn't sure he knew how to.
Ichigo had not put too much thought into why Urahara had asked to see him after his training for the day had finished up. Truthfully, he was surprised the scientist hadn't asked sooner. When he had been ushered into one of the back rooms by a quietly enthusiastic Tessai, he had not been surprised to see a far less quietly enthusiastic Urahara, sat on a stool with a grin, theatrically fanning himself.
"Good evening, Mister Kurosaki!" he said, charm slick in his voice. "How are you today?"
"No need to put on an act, okay?" said Ichigo with a sigh. "You want a bit of data from me, don't you?"
"I am hurt that you would think my motivations were so crass," Urahara said, snapping his fan shut, "but since you brought it up…"
"Alright, alright," Ichigo said with a shrug. "Do I need to hook up some freaky device, or something?"
"Not at all," said Urahara. "For now, in fact, all I'd like to do is have a look-see up close. Those stingy visored won't let me so much as peek, can you imagine that?"
"I can," Ichigo muttered. "Alright, let me just change into my shinigami form real quick… and I'm warning you, you got eight seconds tops to look. Can't hold it any longer than that."
"It will be plenty," Urahara said excitably.
As commander, Erza had a hundred and one tedious duties to fulfill, including the negotiation of payment for independent contractors. Yamamoto had given the man a blank check, of course, but Erza figured she should at least check what they were paying for and when; just because his services were invaluable, it didn't mean he should bleed them dry.
She was deep in thought as she approached the shop. She hadn't spoken much to Nozomi since their disagreement. She had this instinctive view of the scoundrel scientist as inherently devious, untrustworthy, but… upon reflection, Nozomi hadn't been wrong. He had never crossed her, and although he always seemed to get something out of any involvement with anyone, he had never cheated her or anyone else she knew of. Had she all this time just been… irrationally suspicious? Unfair? She imagined apologizing to the man, and it took some effort. But, if she had been unfair… if she had been unfair, there was no other way to go about it. Erza Scarlet was far too Erza Scarlet not to.
She walked into the store, sensing for the shopkeeper's signature. It was there, alright, but so was… Ichigo's. At the same instant, she sensed the malignant energy of a hollow. She stiffened, put a hand on the hilt of her blade, and hastened her step. What was going on? Was it one of his mad experiments? Why was Ichigo there? He was just a kid; he should have been hanging back, not getting himself involved with all of this, not when they had a whole team looking out for the city-
Then she turned a corner, took a few steps forward and looked through the doorway. She saw Ichigo sitting in a chair, his shihakusho on, a hollow's mask over his face, sitting stiff and still as if paralyzed. The energy was coming from him; she felt it in great, big, nauseating waves. She saw Urahara bent over him, a fascinated grin on his face.
It was around that point that Erza lost her temper in as complete a way as temper could be lost, a wall of rage overriding all her reason. How could she ever have thought he was any different, that he wasn't so devious?
"You SON OF A BITCH!" she snapped, barreling through the door like an armoured juggernaut, her mailed fist connecting with a surprised Urahara's jaw quite solidly, sending him reeling.
"You son of a bitch, what did you do to him?!" she snarled, pushing her instinctive attack, raining down a series of metal-reinforced blows onto the shocked scientist, who was only barely keeping on his feet.
"Wait-" he started.
"You sick fuck!" she snarled, not quite reflecting over why Urahara, now recovered enough to respond, was only parrying her blows. Had she remembered she had a blade she would gladly have run him through, but as it was she struck him with the hot fury of a sun.
"You think you can just make people your guinea pigs?" she shouted, raining down blow after blow frantically, lashing out with a kick and finally overbalancing Urahara, sending him to the floor. "You think you can just do whatever you want? To my family?!"
"Erza!"
The voice dimly registered in the back of her head, but she didn't pay it any mind. Like a mother bear she moved with ursine fury, determined to end this little stain of filth. Finally remembering she had a blade, she pulled out her zanpakutou, raised it, and-
-and then there was Ichigo, having moved in between her and Urahara in an instant, his hands gripping her wrists quite firmly. He strained quite heavily against her choleric strength, but there was determination in his face.
"Erza, stop!" he demanded, loudly and angrily. "Stop right now!"
"Get out of the way!" Erza snapped, although something was finally beginning to register. He looked and sounded normal…
"No!" Ichigo shouted. "I'm okay, Erza! I'm fine! He didn't do anything to me, so STOP!"
Erza, still quite furious, pushed forward for a few seconds before her will began to falter. "But-"
"Look," Ichigo said, still holding on to her wrists so hard that his knuckles were going white, "I get what it looked like, but it isn't. Put that sword down right now, and I'll explain. Okay?"
"Ichigo-"
"Put! It! Down!" he shouted.
Erza was taken aback. He had never talked to her like this before. Slowly, it started to dawn on her that maybe she had made a mistake. Quite a mistake, even.
"…Fine," she said, taking a deep breath.
"Good."
"Er, Ichigo?" she said, taking a few more deep breaths, trying to force herself calm.
"Yeah?"
"I can't put it down when you're hanging on to my wrists."
"…Right."
He let go, and Erza lowered her blade. Slowly, she sheathed the blade.
"Right. Explain," she said.
Urahara stood up with a groan, leaning against the wall. He limped forward a step. "That's going to hurt in the morning," he grumbled.
"He saved my life, okay?" said Ichigo.
"…Your life?" said Erza, disbelief written across her face.
"I'll start from the top," said Ichigo.
So he did. He told her about the hollow lurking in his head, about the threat of it eating his soul, taking over; about how it had been linked to him from birth, about how Urahara had gotten him in touch with the visored, what the visored were, how he had trained until he could go through his trial by fire, how he could now summon those powers at will…
Erza stared, gaping at several times.
"You- you knew all of this all along?" she said accusingly to Urahara, keen to save herself from a growing sense of dreadful embarrassment.
"That was his business," said Urahara, who had sat down on a chair, rubbing a few sore spots that were already in the process of bruising, "his secret, and not mine to give away. I would suggest you ask him about that, not me. Or, would you like it if I gave your secrets away? I've never been one to poke my nose in other people's business unless they need help."
"I'd be dead without him, Erza," said Ichigo gravely. "Worse, I'd be a monster. I needed help and he was the only one who could. He came through for me, and that's a fact."
"I…" Erza said hesitantly. "I mean, you great big idiot, why didn't you tell me?"
Ichigo made a face. "I already had that conversation with my mom and dad, thank you very much. The long and short of it is that I'm very stupid, okay?"
"I… well, thank god you're okay," Erza murmured. She was quickly sinking into a black hole of shame. She turned to Urahara. "Er," she said, "I'm, uh… I'm sorry."
"Oh, nothing's broken," Urahara said, and let out a quiet moan as he shifted in his chair. "…I think. Well, nothing a bit of medical kido can't fix. It really was just… an unfortunate misunderstanding."
He groaned again. "Quite unfortunate for my ribs actually," he said.
"I'm terribly sorry," said Erza earnestly. "You… saved Ichigo where nobody else could. Well, you and these… 'visored,' but that's to your credit even if you didn't do it personally. I… I've misjudged you, Urahara Kisuke."
She fell onto one knee, bowing her head.
Urahara groaned, this time not out of pain. "None of that nonsense, please. I'm all for the dramatic, myself, but I don't demand people kowtow to me just because of a broken-" he flinched, and groaned, "okay, two broken ribs. Really, stand up. It's embarrassing."
"I… yes," Erza said, hastily standing up. "I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have… I should have thought."
"Here's a thought," said Urahara. "Try saying sorry with, say, a favourable deal on supplies I need from the Gotei."
"…Well, you can't be doing that badly if you're haggling," Erza muttered.
"Well?" he demanded.
"…How favourable?"
"Quite favourable."
"You know-" Erza started, but Urahara shifted, and groaned loudly.
"My god, I think it's three ribs! Holy hell, this hurts!"
"Quite favourable it is!" Erza said hastily, guilt overrunning any sense of practicality. "Really, I'm… I'm very sorry."
She turned to Ichigo.
"You can… summon a hollow's powers now, really?"
"For a few seconds, yeah," Ichigo said with a nod. "They tell me it'll be more with time, but for now that's all."
"That's… that's good, then," said Erza, unsure of herself. "Just, uh… keep it to yourself. Wouldn't want to advertise that to… the wrong people."
"She means the Gotei," Urahara said helpfully.
"I got that," said Ichigo. "I'm sorry, too, auntie. I should have said something, but…" he sighed. "What can I say? We all do a lot of stuff we wind up regretting, don't we?"
Erza nodded, and gave Urahara a long look. "…Yes, we do," she said, shaking her head. "Good grief, what a fool I made of myself…"
"Oh, I get it," said Urahara. "If you go around thinking I'm this amoral, greedy scientist with no scruples- like Frankenstein, only more handsome- then your reaction makes perfect sense. But, ask yourself… what does it say that you immediately assumed the worst?"
"I'm sorry," Erza repeated for the umpteenth time. "I… I will have to think about this."
"Call Tessai in on your way out," said Urahara, and Erza could recognize a polite cue to leave when she heard it, at least right now. "I imagine you and Mister Kurosaki have things to discuss."
Ichigo looked a little exasperated. "No lecturing, okay?" he said.
"I make no promises," said Erza. "We'll, uh… we'll just go, yeah?"
So, they left. Urahara watched them leave, and if they had turned around they would have seen a content smile on his face. This was, all things considered, not that bad a deal. A bit of temporary pain in exchange for all the emotional blackmail he could ask for? Oh, yes, it was worth it. Had he been like Aizen, he might even have claimed to have planned it.
Often life was funny, but seldom it seemed that way to Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, to whom the concept of enjoyment was at this time as distant as the Moon. Life sucked. Worst of all, it was entirely his own fault.
Well, except for that rotten, dirty, hypocritical scumfuck Aizen and his shitty punishments.
And that redheaded bitch and her shitty fucking demands.
Or that skinny little cunt and her goddamned dirty magic that ran all the way into his head.
Come to think of it, Grimmjow was at most a distant fourth in whom he had to blame for this, and he silently swore that each and every one of these bastard shinigami would, in time, pay adequately for the humiliation they had visited upon the rightful king of Las Noches. He'd get his arm back- just how, he wasn't sure; it was a work in progress and at any rate it did a body good to have some goals- and he'd get back into shape, start killing, grow in strength, and somewhere down that vaguely defined line, Grimmjow would end up on top.
It was not a great plan. In fact, it wasn't even a plan. It was a poorly constructed fantasy, but it was all Grimmjow had, and so he clung to it.
He had caught himself sitting by his lonesome, regurgitating the same hate, the same toxic misery, and he had snarled- not at the shinigami he hated, but at himself. One thing had not changed: he could not let himself sit on his ass and feel sorry for himself. So he was stuck in this basement? Well, it was large enough, and there was no reason not to do something with this relative amount of freedom.
At a loss for anything else, he had taken off his vest and started a workout, testing the boundaries of his freshly weakened body. He quickly felt its limitations, and it filled him with rage, a fresh reminder of his abysmal situation. Not only the loss of his arm, but now this, as well? But where hate welled up, he harnessed it like man had once harnessed flame, turned it inward, turned it into energy, and redoubled his efforts.
It was when he was doing one-handed pushups that he noticed a presence. He noticed by smell, by the general changes in environment that each hollow was so conscious of when something came close; not by sensing, because his spiritual sense had been dulled twice over. His efforts slowed to a crawl before halting, and with sweat trickling down his scarred chest, he stood up and eyed the new arrival.
It was a human girl, with bright orange hair and an innocently inquisitive look on her face. Although his senses were indeed dulled, he could tell quite easily she was no shinigami, not even one in hiding. She lacked that general smug, arrogant bearing, although instead she displayed an almost as obnoxious sheepishness, as if she was eyeing some sort of curiosity.
Like a zoo animal.
"Fuck you want?" he spat, in his most menacing drawl.
It did not seem to intimidate the young human, although she did seem taken aback.
"Come to gawp at me, have you?" he snarled. "Come to say the words, bring me to my knees?"
"Oh. Uh. Well, not at all," said the girl, and it frustrated Grimmjow that she sounded merely perplexed. He was used to people being in awe of him- or displaying a great contempt for him, at the very least. Being treated with neither was strange, new territory for him.
"Well… fuck off," Grimmjow muttered, his enthusiasm diminishing as he recalled that she most likely did know the words, and antagonizing her might not end well for him.
"You're, like, really muscular," said the human, "like a statue. Does Aizen make you like statues, and then, like, breathe life into you? Kinda like all those old stories?"
What was her deal?
"No," he said flatly. "No, he don't make us like statues. That's a dumb fucking question."
"Oh."
"Well…" he said, not quite sure why he would retort without a sneer, "in a sense, but it's not like statues at all. He takes a hollow, breaks it down to a kind of… spiritual goo, and then reshapes it."
The human's mouth formed a smooth O.
"That sounds really cool! Unless… I mean, does it hurt?"
"It was freaky as fuck," Grimmjow admitted, "like being turned inside out. Well… I guess it literally was like that. But no. Didn't hurt as such."
"Then it sounds cool," said the human with a cheerily determined voice. Grimmjow gave her a curious look.
"Who the fuck are you, anyway?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," said the human. "I'm Orihime. I'm Erza's daughter."
Suddenly, Grimmjow's face became sullen, his face turning into an angry scowl. "She send you here to spy on me?"
"Um, no?" said Orihime innocently. "I mean, don't you have this one really angry ninja who keeps on doing stuff like that anyway?"
It was a sensible argument, but Grimmjow's mood was sour all the same. Why had he humoured her in the first place? For a second, he'd spoken to her almost like he had to his fracciones.
"Oh, don't be like that," Orihime said pleadingly. "Really, your scowl is worse than Ichigo's, and that's saying something."
"Who the fuck is Ichigo, your girlfriend?" he snorted.
"Not my girlfriend. He's…" her eyes stared out into space. "Actually, I can totally imagine what he'd look like as a girl…"
"You're weird," said Grimmjow sharply.
"Yeah," Orihime admitted with a shrug, "most people tell me that. But, it's better than being boring, don't you think?"
That, too, was a solid point, not that he would care to say so.
"So, why the fuck're you here, then?" he demanded. "If you ain't spying, then what?"
"Well," said Orihime, "I haven't actually seen an arrancar up close. That wasn't trying to kill me, that is. I was… curious. So when Erza told me it was safe…"
"Fuckin' bitch," Grimmjow muttered.
"When she told me it was safe," Orihime continued unperturbed, "I just sorta wanted to come and check. Learn about new things and such."
Grimmjow, whose approach to learning was pretty narrow, as in 'how do I best rip this bastard's throat out', didn't understand the point of that. Then again, human society was pointlessly complex, and he decided not to dwell on it. He shrugged.
"Anyway, I got shit to do," he muttered, "so… fuck off, or whatever."
"Like what?"
"Whaddaya mean, 'like what'?"
"It's a pretty simple question."
"Well… trainin' and shit," Grimmjow said irritably, "not this dumb, fuckin…"
"What?"
"This," he muttered, making a vague gesture with his hand, "yapping on about nothing. That don't get you nowhere."
"So, it does get you somewhere?"
"What?" Grimmjow said with a frown.
"You said it don't get you nowhere, which means it does get you somewhere, right?"
Grimmjow paused. Grammar had never been his strong suit.
Orihime burst into laughter. "I'm just kidding. I understood you just fine."
"…Whatever," he muttered. "Fuckin' humans…"
"Are you always this cross?"
"Till I get myself back into shape and free from your fuckin' mom," Grimmjow spat.
"Oh. Okay, then."
The way she just wouldn't get insulted was… infuriating.
"So…" she said, "does everyone wear white all the time where you're from? Is that, like, an official fashion policy?"
"Uh…" Grimmjow said, taken aback. "Um, I mean, fucked if I know. I got this shit handed to me after I got made. Got used to it, but my first instinct was to use no clothes at all."
"Really?" said Orihime. "But, isn't that…?"
"Isn't it what? A hollow don't need clothes. Suddenly 'cos we look human, we does, apparently." He shrugged.
"Tell me more about hollows," said Orihime keenly.
"I mean… fuck, what's there to say? We're a bunch of bastards who eat people."
"I'm sure there's more to it than that."
"There ain't," Grimmjow said sharply, but then thought back. "I mean… I guess there's the ladder. Climbing your way up by way of strength and wits, and all."
"I knew I was right," said Orihime cheerily. "Go on. Tell me more."
"…Yeah, what the fuck," Grimmjow muttered. "Ask away, I guess. Then you'll fuck off, 'cos I got more exercising to do. Got it?"
"Got it," Orihime said cheerily.
As she launched into a series of questions, and Grimmjow sat down to answer, he wondered to himself why he put up with it. He really wasn't sure.
There we have it, another chapter down! Looks like Grimmjow isn't having the best of times now is he? He really needs to learn to behave more. This chapter was admittedly more foreshadowing than anything else, but proper foreshadowing is something that most shonen manga (or badly written comics.) suffer from. Its important to cover all your bases. Now what have I been foreshadowing exactly? Well, it wouldn't be fun if I gave you all the answers now would it? All I CAN say however is that it'll all be important to the story down the line.
Don't worry though, we'll be getting right back into the action of the war really soon. Its just important to set all of these things up. That's the advantage of being a fanfiction over a actual manga, we can take our time in showing these sorts of things.
Well, that's enough out of me. I hope to hear what you all thought of this chapter, see if you can guess what I was "setting up." It'll be interesting to see how many of you are right.
Later!