Hey everyone, we're back with another chapter. Not much I have to say this time around, so lets just cut to the chase shall we? If you want to show your support or let us know what you thought of this chapter, please leave a review.
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!
"So," said Uryu flatly, "let me get this straight."
It was lunch break, and despite feeling tired from his long trip, Uryu suddenly forgot all about it. He'd gotten through class until lunch, at which point Orihime had forcefully dragged him along to eat with his friends, because apparently they had just missed him terribly. Uryu had objected, but not very enthusiastically. His antipathy, which had mostly been for show anyway, had evaporated after the gang had sat down and casually begun referencing a catastrophic, completely calamitous event that had apparently come and passed in his absence.
"So, there are these 'fullbringers'," Uryu continued, "shady types who obviously had some ulterior motive-"
"You don't know that," Ichigo cut in. Uryu did not reply, only giving him a cynical look before continuing.
"-obviously shady types that you, Chad and Orihime have hung around for the last few weeks. This, unsurprisingly, blew up in all your faces."
"It was really just the one bad egg," Ichigo said defensively. "I'm going to go see them after school. Make sure they're alright."
Uryu fought and lost against the urge to roll his eyes.
"Essentially, one of them managed to brainwash all of you, except Tatsuki- good on you, by the way."
"Thanks," said Tatsuki, sounding a little smug. "I also defeated one of them in single combat, by the way."
"Yes, of course," Uryu muttered. "So, you were all brainwashed, sans Tatsuki, along with a shinigami captain and most of your team. The entire mission nearly got destroyed by a bunch of empowered humans, and for two days you were critically endangered and defenseless against an enemy attack and were only lucky enough that they didn't seem to have noticed. You," he said, pointing at Ichigo, "you weren't initially taken over?"
"Well…" said Ichigo, shifting awkwardly.
"I just bet you tried to reason with them, didn't you?" said Uryu dryly. "I just bet you were warned not to, did it anyway, and wound up becoming a puppet to this… Tsukishima."
"It's not that simple…" Ichigo objected.
"Spoilers: It is," Tatsuki whispered loudly, and laughed.
"Hey, screw you!" Ichigo shot back.
"And, then you fought Erza," Uryu continued, "and lost. No surprise there."
"Hey, it was a close match!"
"I'm sure it was," Uryu said dismissively, "and then you, Chad, got beaten bloody by the arrancar prisoner, because the commander was desperate enough to let him loose."
"Admittedly, also not an unexpected outcome," Chad admitted.
"And then the culprit behind the attack gets… what were your words again, Tatsuki?"
"Eviscerated," said Tatsuki, making a vague hand gesture. "It was… pretty brutal. Well, more like stabbed three times, but really hard. I only saw it from afar…"
"He had made it really personal," said Orihime. "I don't like him being killed, but…"
"But he was an idiot who pissed off a captain whose primary occupation is murder," said Uryu sardonically, "and after all this… the commander just let the rest of them go?"
"She figured it was punishment enough, I guess," said Ichigo.
"Honestly, you people," Uryu said exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in the air. "I'm away for two days, and this… this happens?"
"Where were you, actually?" said Ichigo curiously.
"Nowhere important," said Uryu quickly. "Don't try to change the subject."
"Yeah, wouldn't do to interrupt your gloating," Ichigo muttered.
"I don't gloat, Kurosaki," said Uryu. "I just… observe. Like how it seems all of you, professional shinigami veterans included, are recklessly incompetent and remarkably poorly prepared."
"Except me," said Tatsuki. "Man, it feels good to be the only one not to mess up."
"Because Soifon warned you in time!" Ichigo objected.
"Excuses!"
"You wanna go, woman?" Ichigo growled. "I nearly kicked Erza's ass, you know!"
"Nearly," said Tatsuki cheekily, "if by 'nearly' you mean 'became a bloody wreck'."
"Bite me!"
"Please, calm down," Orihime said, a little awkwardly.
Uryu shook his head. "Well, it's obvious you all can't manage even a couple of days without me. I guess I'll just have to babysit you from here on out."
"Hey, screw you, too, buddy!" said Ichigo.
"Actually…" said Chad, "where did you go, Uryu?" asked Chad.
"Nowhere important," said Uryu evasively. "A couple of… friends invited me to stay at their place for the weekend."
"You don't have friends beside us," said Ichigo bluntly.
"You don't know everything about me."
"Yeah? Who are these friends, then?"
"Just some… other quincies," said Uryu. "It's our own business. I sure didn't know about your secret, shady fullbringer people, and you didn't feel the need to tell me."
"…Yeah, okay, whatever," Ichigo said with a shrug.
Uryu felt relieved. He wouldn't have liked to be pressed on this any further. Quietly, he reflected to himself that his unwillingness to share this information felt… odd. Had he not criticized the Vanden themselves for being secretive? Yet at the same time, he didn't want to share this. It was his, and it felt good to have something of his own.
"Anyway," said Orihime cheerily, "who wants lunch? I brought cinnamon tuna and sugary eggs!"
"…I'm good," said Ichigo, and for once, Uryu related to the aggressive boy and the mildly disgusted expression on his face. Some things had not changed at all.
They had paused their patrol to keep watch, as protocol instructed. Rukia had been surprised when she headed out that her brother had specifically requested to go alongside her on the same route, as they kept watch for irregular spiritual activity, but she had not questioned it.
It was strange how quickly things had gone back to normal. Yesterday evening had been spent restoring order, Urahara Kisuke fixing the damage he had been compelled to do, re-opening the gateway network. Captain Soifon had caught up on security protocol and buried herself in work, furiously penning new rules of safety to eliminate the possibility of anything like this happening again. Her elder brother had presided over the process and given direction, taking charge while the commander- Erza- had negotiated the fate of the prisoners. It had been a hectic evening with a lot of work, but with surprising speed everything had gone back to normal. This morning Rukia had woken up, eaten her breakfast, and headed to work just the same as she had two days ago, like nothing had changed. Her mind was still reeling from the enormity of what she had just gone through, of the fears and anxieties she had felt, of the dangers she had faced, but everyday routine was doing its part to soothe her mind. She wondered how her brother felt.
That was the problem with patrols. It was a monotonous chore that required little mental effort, especially now that they stood still on top of a building, overlooking the city. It left one with one's own thoughts. As the minutes passed by, Rukia realized that she was far from done processing the last forty-eight hours. She had feared for her brother's honour and life. She had feared for her own. She had feared for the Gotei. Now it was… all solved. The war, undoubtedly, would be far more harrowing than this. It was an unpleasant thought, and no matter how she tried to dismiss it, it kept coming back.
"Rukia."
He had spoken unexpectedly, and Rukia, who had tried her best to mimic her brother's stoic demeanour, very nearly flinched at the sound of his voice.
"Yes, brother?" she said, taking pains to keep her voice steady.
"I find that these last days…"
He trailed off, pausing as if to rethink his words, rephrase them to fit his own standards. It was unlike him to be anything less than precise and direct in his speech, and Rukia shifted where she stood, eager to hear what he had to say.
"I find that… never mind," he muttered. "It would be improper for an officer of my standing to discuss personal matters while on duty."
"As Captain Kuchiki says," Rukia said, making sure to address him by his title; he would not appreciate familiarity even with the way he had recently opened up.
"It would be inappropriate."
"Certainly," said Rukia.
"A man such as I would never stoop to such a breach of protocol."
Rukia blinked, confused. It was very unlike him to keep on mentioning it this way. Yet… he had recently been through a breakdown. Perhaps he just needed to talk. Did… did he want her to broach the subject? An officer of his standing… which Rukia was not. A captain might deign to explain something to an ignorant junior officer. But what if she had misread it? She would not want to offend him, no matter what.
"It would be… inappropriate, yes," she said tentatively. "Tell me, captain, as a matter of inquiry with regards to health, are you scheduled to speak with Vice-captain Kotetsu soon?"
"I imagine she too has trauma to deal with," her brother said neutrally, "but I expect that within a few days, I will."
Within a few days. Well…
"Forgive my foolishness," said Rukia, taking a breath and deciding to take the plunge, "but I would like to enter a point of contention with your assertion about propriety, brother. Between officers, during a time of relative peace, I believe one could reasonably discuss various matters freely so long as it does not detract from one's ability to uphold one's duties."
"A foolish view, officer."
"Forgive me, brother."
"Yet…" he said slowly.
"Brother, forgive me if I speak too freely," said Rukia, "but it is not like you to hesitate. One thing I have always particularly admired is your ability to speak confidently. I believe you are a man whose quality includes the ability to speak his mind, or to not speak at all."
That was dangerous. It was improper, bordering on rude, even with her elaborate, polite phrasing, and Rukia held her breath.
"Rebuked by my own sister," said her brother ponderously. "Truly, I have grown weaker."
"My most sincere apologies, brother."
"You asked that I speak clearly. Very well then; in the interest of living up to the standard set for me, I shall. I have had… concerns as of late. As you are well aware, Rukia."
"Yes, brother," Rukia said, nodding. He had confided much in her as of late; his breakdown, his therapy, his punishment at the commander's hands.
"My concerns have, admittedly, been alleviated by the treatment offered by Vice-captain Kotetsu. Yet, if that was a wound on the mend, I feel as if a blade had been stabbed into the wound and twisted. I was used. Manipulated. Turned against my own kind, made to perform one treasonous action after another. It is like some sort of cruel punishment, elaborately designed to torment me specifically. It… pains me deeply. I am deeply in need of restoring my tainted honour, yet more dishonour still has been thrust upon me."
"Brother…" Rukia said, understanding what it was about at last. If there was anything that would have bothered him, then yes, this would be it.
"I will not complain or bemoan my fate. I have earned it. Yet… yet it is quite a burden to bear."
"Brother!" Rukia said firmly, heatedly. "You must not speak of yourself this way. You judge yourself more harshly than anybody else. This you may be assured of. Nobody, not the commander, nor Captain Soifon, nor the captain-commander will hold a grudge against you for this."
"If I do not judge myself, who will? This dishonour-"
"What dishonour?" Rukia said, realizing she had interrupted him, normally a capital offense. "There is none to speak of. You were compelled to do the bidding of an evil man, yes, but no lasting harm was done. When it was demanded you raise your blade against your fellow officers with murderous intent, you refused. It was your honour that prevented him from using you against the Gotei ultimately, brother! Your principles held strong, like a shield, and prevented you from doing anything truly wrong. Not even his manipulations could undo that. Your beliefs, brother, were stronger than even the pleas of a childhood friend. You would not yield. How is this anything but honourable?"
He paused, and gave her a long, scrutinizing look. Rukia swallowed, hoping she had not overstepped her bounds.
"Perhaps," he said after a long silence, "or perhaps it was the same stubborn honour that led me to undo my honour in the first place."
That time, feeling like an eternity ago, when he had stood ready to execute her himself, because he thought honour demanded it. That time when he had undone himself, when two all-important vows had clashed. Rukia understood it perhaps better than anyone in their company, noble as she was, but even she could not understand fully how it had made him feel. Wounded, she was sure, at the core of his being.
"I do not believe this to be true, brother," she said, shaking her head. "If anything, you have grown more honourable. The man you were, back then… he would not have hesitated. He would have chosen a side, and committed to it. Now you chose to abstain, to wait for clarity."
"Some would call that cowardice."
"They would be wrong," said Rukia, shaking her head. "To wait until the truth is known before acting, especially on as severe a matter as this, that is the mark of wisdom. If anything, brother, your honour has matured to become more sensible. When everything was at stake, you acted with honour. I admire that, as I still admire you."
He gave her a long, inscrutable look, and Rukia swallowed. Yet she looked him in the eye, refusing to back down. She felt a fiery need to do so; it hurt her to hear her brother speak ill of himself in this manner. He deserved better, with all he had done for their clan.
"Wise is the leader who contemplates his actions before he executes them," he said at last.
"Second head of the Kuchiki clan, venerable Kuchiki Shichirou," Rukia said with a nod. "The wisdom of your forebears supports you too, brother."
"Perhaps," he said, looking into the distance. "I will confess… I have been given some things to consider. Your counsel has been of some worth to me, Rukia."
Rukia's heart swelled with pride, and she had to force herself to stay still, quiet, and dignified.
"For my brother, my clan leader, I could do no less," she said, daring to smile.
"Let us be away," said Byakuya neutrally. "The patrol route is only halfway done."
"Yes, captain," said Rukia, nodding enthusiastically. As they leaped through the air, Rukia felt for the first time since before the incident a sense of elation and joy.
Soifon sat bolt upright, ripped from a peaceful slumber by a ray of sun stinging her face. For a second she was disoriented, and looked around wildly as the world quickly began to fall into place, going from the disorderly nonsense of a dream to the sensible, structured order of reality.
"Good morning, sleepy-head."
It was commander Erza, standing over her with a smile on her face, and a mug of steaming hot tea in her hand.
"What time is it?" Soifon snapped, realizing that she was, in fact, speaking rudely to a superior officer. It was improper to be this informal, and inwardly, she cursed herself.
"Almost noon," said the commander. "Tea?"
She offered up the mug, but Soifon had gone wide-eyed, mortified. She looked at the clock by her desk, and it confirmed it. Almost mid-day! How could she have let herself slip this way? With everything going on?
"Commander, my most sincere apologies," she blurted out. "There are no excuses. I… I must have fallen asleep sometime in the morning. I just…"
"Soifon," Erza said soberly, "what was the time when you fell asleep? Somewhere around five in the morning?"
"…Seven," Soifon admitted reluctantly. "Commander, this is still unacceptable. To fall asleep on your post is something that could get you expelled from my corps. To fail in my duty like this-"
"You sat up coordinating new security protocols, going through paperwork, writing reports, not to mention helping me with my administrative duties," said Erza. "Frankly, I'm surprised you didn't fall asleep sooner. You really need to learn when to quit."
She should. Normally, she did. Normally, she kept a very safe, healthy set of routines. But, this… this was anything but normal. Routines had gone back to normal very quickly, but the wounds from the last two days were still fresh, and Soifon had buried herself in work to cope. It was what she had always done. But, if it made her fail like this…
"Take this tea," Erza insisted, pressing the mug into Soifon's hands. Soifon blinked, wearily accepting the beverage. She took a sip, then another, and suddenly the fog of exhaustion was lifted a little.
"Anyway," said Erza, walking over to a small stove Soifon kept in the office for when she needed to make a quick meal without having to leave, "how are you holding up?"
"Commander, I have work to do," Soifon protested.
"Too much of it, by all accounts," said Erza. She rummaged through the cabinet the stove was rested on, digging out some eggs. "I was surprised not to find you sleeping with Yoruichi. I'd expect you would be spending some time with-"
"Yoruichi is out," Soifon said quickly, cutting Erza off. "I haven't seen her since… since yesterday."
"Really? Where'd she go?"
"I'm not sure, and it doesn't matter," Soifon said evasively. "Commander, we both have work to do. I need to finish up the official report-"
"Under no circumstances," said the commander, "will I let you continue working until you've had a decent breakfast and freshened up a little."
"Commander-"
"Consider it an order," said Erza kindly yet firmly. "As your commanding officer, I am responsible for your health as well as you performing your duties. You cannot have one without the other."
As she spoke, she cracked some eggs into a quickly heating pot, along with some butter.
"You like scrambled eggs, right?"
"They're… fine," Soifon murmured.
"Good, because they're all I think I can make," said Erza, enthusiastically stirring the pot.
"Commander-"
"Erza. For now."
"Erza," Soifon said, not done protesting, "I must object."
"Duly noted and dismissed."
A not inconsiderable part of Soifon writhed and cringed at the commander's informal, friendly approach. Rigid structure, discipline, and authority were deeply ingrained in her, had been since her early childhood. She knew that if she had caught any of her subordinates sleeping at their workspace, she would have at the very least flogged them, and depending on the circumstances maybe even had them thrown out, regardless of excuses. That she had overworked herself this far, this hard, to a point where she had let herself down by her own standards… it shamed her. It felt wrong that she wasn't greeted by harsh words and condemnation.
But, another part of her, smaller but growing, felt sincerely appreciative. She had been exhausted, not just mentally but emotionally, and she had kept it to herself, internalized it in the way she had before, in a way that she knew wasn't healthy. To be greeted by kindness, by human interaction, it felt… nice. Soothing.
"I don't suppose I could convince you to go back to sleep in your own bed after this?" said Erza.
"Absolutely not," said Soifon sharply. She had a decent enough excuse, she supposed, but she had wasted enough time as it was.
"How are you doing, anyway?" said Erza, stirring the pot continuously. "I know this business made you feel terrible."
"I could ask you the same," said Soifon evasively.
"Me?" muttered Erza. "Frankly, I'm a mess up in here," she said, pointing to her head, "but… I'm dealing with it. Not the worst thing I've been through, but it's up there."
Soifon nodded. "Yes. It is the same for me. I'm… dealing with it."
"If you say so," said Erza. "If you need to talk…"
"I have work to do."
"Fine, fine," said Erza, shrugging. "Although, I'm probably going to mandate a few sessions with Isane for everyone, you included."
Soifon shifted in her seat. That might be a good idea, although she was disinclined to admit it. That, or… just talk. About what was going on in her head.
Almost automatically, she quashed the notion. She never put herself first, and after a lifetime of putting her needs second, it felt unnatural to bring it up like this.
"Well, anyway, here you go," said Erza, handing her a plate of scrambled eggs. It was a simple dish, only very lightly burned. The commander, Soifon figured, was not a master chef. However, as she took a bite, she realized it didn't matter. She was hungry, much hungrier than she had thought she was, and she chewed the food down as quickly as dignity allowed her.
"Feeling better?" Erza said. Soifon nodded.
"Your care is… appreciated," she said, only grudgingly admitting it.
"Glad to hear it," said Erza.
"Now, I have work to get to-"
"Soifon," said Erza, "your braids are fraying, and you have bags under your eyes. Go get a shower and a change of clothes, and probably something more to eat. Then, after you've put in enough hours of work, I am ordering you to get a good night's sleep at a decent hour. That's not up for negotiation."
Soifon's eyes narrowed. "You've really taken to the role of command, I see."
"Being in charge has its perks," Erza said with a smirk.
"No… I mean it," said Soifon sincerely. "You faced a crisis of a completely unexpected and uniquely challenging nature. You led us through it. Whatever reservations I had about your being fit for command, I renounce."
"I…. thanks," said Erza, taken aback. "I mean, I would have been completely lost without you. I could never have kept us secure like you did. Your expertise was invaluable."
"You led us," Soifon said simply. "You kept us together. And, when it all came down to it, you had the stomach to do what was needed."
"Sheesh, you're embarrassing me…" Erza muttered, shifting awkwardly.
"I am not one for undue praise. I observe, and I comment," said Soifon with a shrug. "You may not be experienced, but as far as I am concerned, you have risen to the occasion."
"…Thanks," said Erza.
Soifon nodded, and stood up. "The shower and change was non-negotiable?"
"You bet," said Erza cheerily, seeming relieved to switch topics.
"Fair enough," said Soifon, "and captain... I…"
"Yes?"
For a moment, she wanted to tell her everything. The ache inside. The old anxieties running rampant inside her. The fear. The hurt.
But, that would be putting personal issues ahead of professional issues, and she had already wasted enough time.
"Nothing," she said. "I will see you later, commander."
Lanza spun and a burst of red energy flared from his hand. A moment later, a half-broken pillar shattered, reduced to so much gravel. Lanza took a deep breath, standing upright. He was stripped down to the waist, glistening with sweat. He took another couple of long, deep breaths, forcing air into his lungs. He had taken to training as of late, more so than usual. Much was expected of him, and more than that… he had had a taste of his enemies already, and they were strong. If he was to pull his weight, he would need to use what time he had left to improve. He took another stance, channeling more energy through his body. He had let his sword lie to the side, focusing on controlling his energies for the moment. This old, near-ruined room in the fringes of the palace served well as a training space.
In the distance, Loly and Menoly sat staring at him, their gazes fixed and great smiles on their faces. They had fought over who got to hold his sword, but they seemed to have gotten over it. Good; he was tired of having to settle their petty disputes.
"Interesting technique."
Lanza stood upright, interrupting his training the moment he heard the voice. It was Halibel, standing by the doorway, looking inscrutable as ever.
"Senior espada," he said, jogging up to her. He gave a quick bow, and looked at her expectantly.
"I was wondering what you had gotten up to," said Halibel. "I am glad to see you are making productive use of your time."
"You flatter me, tercera."
"There's no need to be so formal, you know," said Neliel, stepping into view. She had a smile on her face.
"My apologies. It's, er…"
"Tell me about this… technique of yours," said Halibel firmly, interrupting him. Lanza felt quietly grateful; he had been awkward around the two of them too many times. He appreciated their company and friendship, but he often felt a little awed in their presence. Their rank, their power, it was totally disparate when compared to his own.
"Oh, this?" he said eagerly. "I am just refining the way I use my reiatsu. I've… come up with something new."
"Tell us! Tell us!" Neliel said excitably. "I love new ideas."
"It's… more like an old idea, actually," said Lanza, "only re-appropriated to this system."
Halibel raised an eyebrow, and Lanza hurried to explain.
"Lately, I've had more and more memories of- of my old life. It's becoming clearer every day. When I was… Jellal Fernandes. I'm remembering not just my old life, but some of the things I could do."
"You had powers in life?" asked Neliel.
Lanza nodded. "I did. It's hard to explain, but it was… magic of some sort. It allowed me to manipulate reality in a manner not completely different from what we can do now. It was a bit more flexible, I think, even if I think I'm stronger now than I was then."
"You truly are of another world, then," said Halibel dispassionately.
"I believe I am, yes," said Lanza. "I haven't forgotten my place, though. I am still an espada."
"Of course you are," said Neliel reassuringly.
"Come, show me," said Halibel. "What have you learned, or re-learned?"
Lanza took a step back, took a deep breath, and focused his energies. He let his reiatsu surge briefly, dropped to his haunches, and slammed a palm down into the ground. There was a flash of bright, yellow light, and suddenly he was behind Halibel, fist balled. The tercera caught the blow in her right palm smoothly, moving with cat-like speed. She absorbed the hit, and looked him in the eye.
"Impressive," she admitted. "Much faster than before."
"I'm no match for you, tercera," said Lanza with a small smile, taking a step back. "You matched my speed easily."
"How'd that work?" said Neliel. "I could barely sense you move."
"It was the energy of a cero," said Halibel, "summoned and then charged inward, correct?"
"You're as sharp as I'd expect for an espada of your calibre," said Lanza, nodding. "Yes, it's a cero. It lets me use a burst of speed just when I need it the most."
"Charged into yourself," muttered Halibel, "it sounds like a very dangerous technique."
"I burned myself more than once trying it," Lanza admitted, "but I think I've got the hang of it now."
Halibel nodded approvingly.
"You'll catch up in no time," said Neliel encouragingly.
"You're too kind," said Lanza. "But… well, I think I'd better. I fought her, that… Erza Scarlet woman, not long ago."
Halibel tensed a little at the name, balling a fist before slowly relaxing herself again.
"It was not entirely one-sided," continued Lanza. "It was a fight. But, it's not one I think I could ever have won. And, if that is the measure of a captain, then I have some ways left to go yet. I may die for this cause. I will, if I need to. But, if I do, I would hope I at least take somebody strong with me."
"Do not worry about Erza Scarlet," said Halibel. "When the time comes, I intend to handle her personally."
Lanza blinked. "Tercera, do you have some sort of grudge with her?"
"I do not approve of traitors," said Halibel coolly. "She alone among the shinigami we face was privy to Lord Aizen's vision, and she rejected it. She was shown the light, and chose darkness. She pretended she was a friend to us, but she was false. For that reason, I intend to kill her in Lord Aizen's name."
Her voice was level, composed, but there was a hint of venom there. Lanza couldn't quite be sure, since the tercera rarely showed much emotion outwardly, but he got the sense that she had a particular dislike for the woman.
"I'm sad to hear it," said Lanza.
"There is nothing to regret. Treachery reaps the rewards it sows."
"Tier, you're so serious," Neliel protested.
"When am I not?" Halibel shot back.
"A fair point," said Lanza. "I will leave her to you, then. I would tremble, if I were her. What captain could hope to match the three best warriors Lord Aizen has?"
"Never underestimate your enemies," said Halibel. "Yamamoto alone could burn us all, except maybe… Starrk."
Neliel shivered, and looked uncomfortable.
"What's he like?" said Lanza. "I've seen him from afar, on occasion. He seems really mild-mannered. Is he a vile beast underneath it?"
"Monstrously powerful," said Halibel. "Not vile, but frighteningly strong. So strong he frightens himself, I believe."
"He scares me, for sure," said Neliel. "He's never been rude or threatening, but I feel it within him, writhing, like there's something furious waiting to come at you."
"You know," said Lanza thoughtfully, "I used to think he was just a legend. A scary story hollows told each other, a myth about somebody more powerful even than King Barragan. To find out he was real…"
"He was always real," said Halibel, "all too real. Hollows would avoid him for miles. His spiritual force alone could kill you. I saw him from afar once. What I saw there… I have not known fear for a long time, not for myself, but what I saw far out in the wastes made me feel small. Insignificant. If there is one thing I am sure of, willing to stake my life on, it is that under Lord Aizen's direction, we have a force amassed that can and will beat the Gotei Thirteen into submission, or kill them all if they refuse to surrender."
"We are lucky, then," said Lanza with a nod. "With such strong allies, how could we fail?"
"Optimism," Halibel said dismissively, shaking her head. "Hope, Lanza, is the first step on the road to disappointment."
"She doesn't mean that," Neliel cut in. "She's just not very cheery."
"Say what you will, but I have hope," said Lanza. "When victory is ours, Lord Aizen will build a better world. That is worth everything. All our lives."
"Hopefully not that," said Neliel.
"It gladdens me," came the voice, quietly authoritative and smooth, "to hear my espada speak with such wisdom and loyalty."
Aizen Sousuke, lord of Hueco Mundo, stepped into view. He had to have been concealing his reiatsu, because Lanza had not sensed him coming- and neither, it seemed, had Halibel or Neliel.
"Lord Aizen," said Halibel, bowing her head. Neliel and Lanza joined her, paying simple respect to their master.
"I was searching for you, Lanza," said Aizen, "but I was not sure where you had gone."
"Lord!" said Lanza, biting back an apology. Lord Aizen did not seem to appreciate grovelling. "I hope I have not inconvenienced you?"
"Not at all. It is only appropriate that my best warriors spend their time improving themselves," said Aizen reassuringly. "Regardless, it is time you finished this particular session."
"As my lord commands," said Lanza, and went to retrieve his shirt, "but if I may ask, for what reason am I summoned?"
"The mission I spoke of," said Aizen. "Do you recall?"
"You mean…"
Aizen nodded. "To Karakura. The time to further prove your worth is coming, Lanza."
Lanza felt pride swell in his chest. "I will not let you down, lord."
"I know you will not," said Aizen matter-of-factly. Neliel, Lanza saw, gave him an encouraging smile, whereas Halibel simply gave an approving nod. Neither of them inquired as to what the mission was; they both knew their place well enough to not ask about what did not concern them.
Karakura town… yes, enemy territory. His to discover. Dangerous to be sure, but the fact that Lord Aizen had put that much trust in him made the fear that much lesser. For Lord Aizen, he'd gladly take the risk.
Tatsuki was in a good mood. Hazing Ichigo over last weekend had been good fun, and she had made good progress in her skills. She had to remind herself that most people involved had come out of it worse for wear, but even with that in mind, she couldn't help but feel elated. Why shouldn't she? Her hard work, all in all, had been rewarded. She had made an effort, and it had worked. Even with the looming conflict… no, because of it, because of what may come, she might as well take some satisfaction where she could, before everything went pear-shaped.
"You seem happy, Tatsuki," said Orihime. The two of them were walking home together after school, one of the simple pleasures left in life.
"A little bit," Tatsuki admitted with a smile. "It's been a while since I got to tease Ichigo like that."
"It's a little mean, you know," said Orihime.
"A little," Tatsuki admitted, "but not too mean. I know how far I can go. If he was really mad, I'd know. He'd have this mean scowl on his face."
"But Ichigo always scowls," said Orihime with a giggle.
"I've become a master of scowl-reading," Tatsuki said jokingly. "I'm like a fortune teller, except instead of using tea leaves or palm lines, I examine the angry faces of moody teenage boys."
"You should open a business," Orihime said. "I can see it now, Tatsuki's mystical parlour shop of scowls… it'd be the greatest success this country has seen, until the mecha-vultures attack it and we're forced to defend it with alien cyborgs!"
"Sheesh, there you go again with your crazy imagination," Tatsuki said, smiling. It was good to see her friend be herself again, seeming no worse for wear despite the trials the weekend had left them with.
"What? It could happen," Orihime said innocently. Sometimes, even Tatsuki couldn't tell if she was serious or not. Orihime definitely didn't live in quite the same reality as the rest of them, but she wasn't as out there as some people thought.
"Yeah, right," Tatsuki said with a smile. "Anyway… how are you holding up? No bad dreams after, you know…?`"
"Tsukishima?" said Orihime, shaking her head. "I slept pretty well last night. Honestly, I don't remember much of it, except the bruise I got from where Erza hit me when she had to knock me out, and Isane fixed that up. Poor Erza, she must have felt terrible…"
Tatsuki nodded. "I'm glad I had to fight a stranger," she muttered. "That Tsukishima bastard…"
"I feel sorry for him," Orihime said, a little dejection crawling into her voice. "He just wanted to protect his family. What he did was wrong, but…"
She shook her head, and Tatsuki gave her a look. Orihime was kind at heart, very kind. Too kind, Tatsuki had often thought. Tatsuki had done her best to protect her friend growing up, but some things could not be protected from. The cruelties of the world left few untouched.
Orihime shook her head. "I wish he didn't have to die. That's all. I didn't talk to him much when I was training with Mr. Ginjou and the others, but he didn't seem that bad. I'll miss them all. They're good people, you know."
"I believe you," Tatsuki said with a nod. She wouldn't fight her friend on this, even if she had disagreed.
Orihime sighed. "It's silly. I haven't known them for very long at all."
"It's not silly to care," said Tatsuki.
"You're sure?"
"Yeah," Tatsuki paused for a second. "Yeah, I am. It's not stupid to care about people, even if they're bad, so long as you don't let them walk over you. You've got a gift, Orihime. Don't think it's a bad thing, because it's not."
"A gift?"
"Empathy, I guess," said Tatsuki with a shrug. She wasn't sure how to phrase it; even with the recent adventures they had gone through, she was still a teenager with a whole life ahead of her, with so much left to learn. "Anyway, how's… school and such?"
"Well, you just saw it, Tatsuki. You were there with me, remember?"
"Man, that was a lame segue," Tatsuki said with a chuckle. "I just… I'm not sure what else to say, alright? We're in over our heads. This whole thing was a huge deal, and if those captains are to be trusted, it's like nothing compared to what's ahead. Right? And… I worry. People might die."
"They might," Orihime said somberly.
"Which is why I'm trying to keep my mind off it," Tatsuki said hastily. "I want to enjoy life like I'm almost normal while I can. So… yeah."
"That's fine," said Orihime. "Let's talk about something else, then. Like killer robots from Mars?"
"The ones with laser for blood, or the ones with plasma artillery?" said Tatsuki. Then she realized that firstly, she was keeping track of multiple different delusions of Orihime's, and that secondly, that was anything but normal. Well… she had said almost normal.
"The ones that have been sleeping untouched for millennia only to awaken and destroy all life, silly," Orihime said with a smile.
"Yeah, that's cheery," Tatsuki muttered.
"They're also bright pink."
Tatsuki gave a grin and a chuckle.
"Anyway… let's say we're pretending like we're normal girls."
"What do those do?" said Orihime quizzically.
"Hell if I know," said Tatsuki with a shrug. "Normal girls, like… talk about make-up, pop stars, and boys, I guess?"
"That's not at all as cool as doing magic or martial arts," said Orihime.
"I know, right?"
"Totally."
"Well… parts of it aren't bad."
"Like what?"
"Boys, I guess," said Tatsuki. "Sometimes…"
"Sometimes what?"
"I mean," said Tatsuki, "I see the way you look at a certain someone, you know. Or, is my radar way off?"
"Who?"
"Somebody with a devilishly handsome scowl, maybe?"
"Who?"
"Orange hair, moody, intense?"
"You can't be serious, Tatsuki!"
"Then why are you blushing?"
"I'm not!" Orihime insisted. Her cheeks, however, were reddening.
"Better him than some scumbag who only wants you for your boobs," said Tatsuki. "Plus, it helps that he already knows about your secret double life. No need to make things up. Then again, anyone who dated you would have to get used to things being made up…"
"I'm- I'm not interested in him that way! I'm really not!"
"If you say so," said Tatsuki with a shrug.
"Definitely not!"
"Sure."
"…Do you think he's interested in me?"
The question was asked shyly, quietly, with much less of her natural cheer. Tatsuki rolled her eyes. She had been spot on, it seemed.
"He's a guy," she said, as if it were self-explanatory. Then she reminded herself that this was Orihime, to whom a great many obvious things had to be explained in depth for them to stick. "What I mean is," she elaborated, "he's dense. Real dense."
"He's got great grades!"
"Book smarts, not smooth smarts," Tatsuki said. "Point being, if you're interested… you'll probably having to make the first move, or he'll never notice you."
"But… I mean, isn't it guys who are supposed to do that?"
"Usually they do. But when they're spending most of their day training? It's kind of like that one guy Mizuki in our class is crushing on, right? The one that spends all day fiddling with his motorbike? He's not bad-looking, but he'd never notice a girl unless she shoved her chest in his face, right?"
"But training isn't like fiddling with a bike… unless you train with a bike, and-"
"Focus, okay? The point is, he's a guy, he's dense, and he spends all his time with some macho toy- a sword, in his case. So, if you want something from him…"
"I've got to shove my boobs in his face?"
"Wouldn't that be a sight," Tatsuki muttered, "but I'm not sure he'd get the point even then."
"So… say I was interested," Orihime said cautiously, "…what should I do exactly?"
"Not that I'm some kind of Casanova or anything, but I could think of a thing or two," said Tatsuki. "We'll figure something out together, yeah?"
"Maybe we could ask someone more experienced, like Yoruichi?"
"Then I think it wouldn't stop at just boobs in the face," Tatsuki chortled. "Let's save that as a last resort, yeah?"
"Sure," said Orihime. "So, what should I try?"
"Well," Tatsuki said, "we could always try the most basic things, like asking him out. No shame in a girl making the first move, you know…"
Exploring the topic together, with some awkwardness, the two of them sauntered back home in no great hurry. Tatsuki's happiness shifted, but remained. This was the kind of simple, everyday pleasure that might soon be lost, talking about small things like teen crushes like there was not a care in the world.
Momo fidgeted nervously with her fingers as she walked into the back rooms of Urahara's store. The place was deceptively large, and Momo suspected the man had employed the same kind of magic he'd used to build his expansive cellar when he'd made himself at home here.
Such speculations were quite secondary, though, to what occupied Momo's mind. After finishing up her patrols for the morning and helping Erza with the daily administrative duties, it had been about time for lunch. Momo had wolfed down a couple of rice balls, intent on spending most of her lunch break on something else. She was looking for Tessai.
The weekend's events loomed over her. Unlike most of the people involved, she remembered. Not every detail, of course, but… the feelings. The overwhelming love and desire she'd had for him. For Tsukishima. For some… man, some stranger. She had been horrified when she had come to, and if not for Erza's loving embrace, she might have broken down. She had felt disgusted with herself. Rationally, she knew Erza was right- this wasn't her fault. She hadn't asked for it, nor had she had a choice in the matter. But, that didn't stop it from feeling like a betrayal, like she'd turned her back on Erza, the one she loved most. She had barely slept at all.
Isane and Nemu, when asked, said they remembered only bits and pieces, that most of it was a blur. So had the others Momo had asked. She only wished she could have been afforded the same mercy. She was very, very unwell right now, she knew, miserable in a way she knew was unhealthy if she kept it in. It was the same kind of feeling she had felt when Aizen had betrayed her, the same jot of pain, the same disbelief, the same struggle to cope. The same struggle that Erza had pulled her through. Except now…
No. No more stewing over the past. She was here to take action, to do something about it. The more it simmered, the worse it would get. She forced herself to focus, and looked from room to room until she finally found him.
Tessai was taking inventory in a store room far at the back, and any hope Momo might have had of him speaking to her first was quashed as she stood in the doorway quietly, waiting for him to speak. He, too, had had his mind warped, Momo recalled; perhaps he was dealing with that in his own way. Single-mindedly, he focused on his task, efficiently and with care.
"Er, Mister Tessai?" said Momo, after it became apparent he would not acknowledge her first.
"Miss Hinamori?" he said politely, eyes fixed on a crate filled with packs of sour candies.
"I was wondering…" she said, trailing off.
"What is it you wish of me, Miss Hinamori?" he said, still focusing on his crates.
"I need to get stronger," said Momo firmly, some of her old spiritedness returning. "What happened… what happened before only shows I'm still too weak. That I still have much learning to do. That-"
"That if you had been a more skilled spellcaster, you would not have been taken unawares by somebody who appeared completely non-threatening and spiritually insignificant?"
"I could have done better," Momo insisted. "I was the first one to approach him. I should have expelled him quicker. I should have…"
Slowly, Tessai turned around, putting his crate down at last.
"You should have done what, Miss Hinamori? Resisted the brainwashing so powerful that only Mister Urahara was able to resist, and only then after being forced to go against his cautious nature?"
"I was the one…" Momo whispered, "the one who brought him in. I did it."
"You followed orders, and were turned against us through no fault of your own."
"That's not how it feels!" Momo snapped. "That's not how it feels!"
"Tell me, Miss Hinamori," said Tessai, slowly extending his arms outward, "what would you have me do? Train you more? We already practice the refinement of your art regularly. You have made considerable progress."
"There must be something you can do," Momo insisted, almost angrily, "some sort of stricter training regimen. Something more advanced. I can take it. Don't hold back!"
"Time, practice, and effort," said Tessai, "they are all that matter. You can spare no more of it without neglecting your duties."
"Come on! I'm sure if you just- if you just think, you can come up with something!"
"Miss Hinamori," said Tessai severely, "this is not about training."
"Of course it is. It's literally what I'm talking about."
"You feel guilty, even though you know there is no reason to. You seek to change that, but it is a move born of desperation. It will not help you. No amount of training will ease that anxiety."
"Damn it!" Momo said, surprised at the intensity of her words, the sudden anger in them. "You big, stupid oaf, I need help!"
"…Yes, you do," said Tessai slowly, ignoring the insult, "but not the sort I can readily provide."
"Yes, you can. You can just-"
"I told you, there is nothing more I can do for you in terms of training."
There was a slight sharpness to his words, and he spoke as harshly as she had ever heard the gentle giant speak- and even then, he did not so much as raise his voice.
"I, too, was lost in the same manner," he continued, "and I, too, deal with the fallout. Much as you are doing, I might add."
"You don't look like it," said Momo bitterly. "You look fine. Me? I'm… I'm eating myself away from the inside. It's like I want to crawl out of my own skin!"
"Yes, that is how it feels, isn't it?" said Tessai. "Like you had something vile thrust upon your skin, and no matter how much you wash it, the stench will not come off."
Momo paused. "…Yes," she whispered, "that's how it feels."
"All my life," said Tessai, "I have prided myself on the control I exert over myself. I am powerful, both physically and in the arts we both practice. I could do tremendous harm if I used this irresponsibly. As such, I have always worked to master myself. To control myself. For over a day, that control was lost, and although I did not know it at the time, I was at somebody else's mercy, compelled to do their bidding. I was lucky enough to be left out of the fighting, at least. But, all the same, I feel as you do. Violated. Manipulated. Used."
"I hate it," Momo whispered. "I hate it. I wish I could just… forget."
"But, you cannot," said Tessai. "That is the sad fact. What you wish for, Miss Hinamori, is cruelly disregarded by reality."
"That's not helpful!"
"It is if you think about it."
"How? How's that helping? How can I… handle this?"
"I was spared the misery you endured, so I cannot pretend to know what you think," said Tessai thoughtfully, "but when faced with considerable trauma, you have two options."
"Yeah? What are those?"
"Lie down and die, or find a way to move forward. There is no other way."
"Obviously!" said Momo irritably. "I don't want to die, but… I don't know how to deal with this, either!"
"I spoke earlier of a stain that will not wash out. The trick, I think, is finding the kind of soap that will."
"And, what's that?"
"For me?" said Tessai. "Busying my mind with the things I know make sense to me. Structure. I am not taking inventory because I need to. It is because it instills in me a sense of control. Stability. It matches my emotional state with my intellect. For somebody like you? Only you can answer, but… I suspect it does not involve more training."
Momo thought to herself. What would she do that was equivalent to taking inventory? Tessai had lost control, but it wasn't the lack of control that had hurt Momo. It was the sense of having betrayed her loved ones. She… she needed to confront that.
"I think I have an idea," she said. "Thank you, Tessai."
"A pleasure, Miss Hinamori," said Tessai with a nod. As Momo turned around, he went back to his crates, making sense of his mind by making sense of the store's supplies. Momo wasn't sure what she had to do to come back to her senses, but she did have an idea of where to start.
Grimmjow stared at the building, wondering just what in the ever-loving fuck he was supposed to do, or how he had wound up in this situation. Sometime early in the evening, Red had come to him and proclaimed that alright, that outing they'd talked about? Well, he'd earned it by now, and good job helping us with those fullbringers. Pat on the back, good doggie, all that shit.
Grimmjow hadn't cared much for the words, and he'd let her know. She had given him that irritated, impatient look he by now recognized to mean 'I want to kick your ass, but I'm not gonna because I'm better than you'. Hidden under what she probably thought was real professional manners, he'd bet. But, for whatever reason, he hadn't told her to fuck off. Somehow, somewhere along the line, he had stopped hating her. That was a weird way to be for Grimmjow, who had always categorically despised all shinigami with their obnoxious rules, their self-righteous attitude, that sense like they were better than you just because they held themselves back. He'd always deep down thought of them as fundamentally dishonest, a breed of black-cloaked hypocrites lying to themselves, denying the savagery inside. But, Red… she was remarkably honest, despite her weird, fucked-up rules. He didn't really like her, per se, but he tolerated her. Which was probably a sign of him going soft, but then again, he was sure he'd passed that point long ago.
So, he'd taken her offer. Why shouldn't he be rewarded, even if it was just a few hours outside his cage? Why shouldn't he get out and stretch his legs a bit? He'd done what he was asked, even if it was just to beat up a couple of weak-ass punks.
He'd been given a gigai, an artificial body of sorts, he'd gathered. Strong enough to contain his spiritual energy, yet somehow almost as weak as a human.
There were rules, of course. The gigai, he'd been told, was fitted with tracking gear, and his actions would be monitored. He was not allowed to use violence, even to defend himself. He was to be back at the store within four hours, or he would be hunted down and arrested. Any attempt at leaving his gigai would result in him being arrested, and, Red had been quite clear, all their trust destroyed. He'd earned some, he'd been told, but it hung by the thread of a needle. One step out of line, one wrong move, and he'd be back to square one. She had looked and sounded like she'd meant it, too, but Grimmjow wasn't so sure. Somehow, he felt like he had grown on her a little, just like she had grown on him.
Grimmjow, of course, had no idea what to do with his time, but the blond bucket-hat science guy had suggested a 'bar', and had even been good enough to give some directions. Grimmjow had moved uneasily in this new body, weak and slow as it was, but even so it felt good to stretch his legs, to move freely.
He'd stopped outside the 'bar', an establishment where, apparently, they served drinks. It wasn't much to look at even by human standards, a small, seedy place with brightly lit signs that seemed to function poorly. It had some name, Grimmjow assumed, but he didn't really care.
Why humans went here to drink when they could apparently just get water in their homes was beyond him, but it was apparently something humans just did.
Once, a long time ago, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez had been human. Like all hollows, he had started his path as a weak, powerless, and frightened human. That human, of course, hadn't been Grimmjow in any meaningful sense of the word. Grimmjow had been forged by the relentless struggle for survival and advancement that Hueco Mundo's wastes offered. Grimmjow, panther king, killer and destroyer, was far removed from the human seed that had spawned him.
But, it was where he had started. It had been so long, so lost in the haze of brutality and struggle, that he only had the faintest memories of that time. He had a vague idea of being small and weak. He remembered the touch of larger humans, perhaps his parents. He remembered dying- no, 'remembered' was too strong a word. It was more like an emotion. A dark, red jab of pain suddenly severing him from life, ending the trail of memories. He'd died young. That much, he was sure of. He had died a young man, a long time ago, and his soul had been filled with regret. He had become a hollow, and the rest… was history.
What it meant, practically speaking, was that Grimmjow knew almost nothing of how humans interacted with one another. Hueco Mundo had social interaction, sure, but it was always underlined with savagery, with subtle tests of power. Even at rest, the struggle for dominance was apparent. That, he was good at. But the rest? The rules? What humans did with one another? It was hard to even imagine a relationship that was neither based on violence nor on dominance.
Hesitantly, Grimmjow stepped inside the 'bar'. He'd spent enough time dwelling on the past, and time was not something he had been given much of. There was a mirror by the door as he slipped inside, and he paused to look at himself.
The gigai looked almost exactly like his arrancar body, although some features were different. His hair had been changed from its bright blue to a subdued black, and the markings by his eyes were gone. The mask fragment was lost, too. For the first time in a long time, Grimmjow saw his face in its entirety. It didn't look bad. He shifted around, admiring himself in the mirror.
He'd been given human clothes, too, another strange set of rules he didn't quite understand. Blue jeans, tightly fit, a simple white shirt that clung to his muscular abdomen, and a leather jacket completing the look. Even emasculated by this contraption, he still looked predatory. He smiled to himself, and headed inside the bar. There was a large counter by one of the walls, where an older human was serving various liquids into smaller glasses. There were tables all around, where people sat, by themselves or with companions, drinking the liquids. It was all very strange to Grimmjow, who still hadn't figured out what the purpose of it was. Some sort of ritual? Some of them certainly behaved that way, singing songs or chanting words in rhythm before downing a drink.
Refusing to be further confused, he marched decisively toward the counter, and took a seat on one of the stools there.
"What'll it be?" demanded the older human behind the counter. "If you're going to be in my bar, you better buy something to drink."
"Whatever," Grimmjow muttered. "Just, uh, something to drink."
"Like what?"
"I said whatever, you stupid bastard," Grimmjow muttered.
"Saké it is, then," said the older man, and poured a small glass of transparent liquid into a small glass. He slid it over to Grimmjow, but stopped himself before going all the way. "Pay up first. I don't serve bums."
What a 'bum' was, Grimmjow wasn't sure, but he was reminded. Pay. Buy. That was another one of those weird human rules. They used slips of paper to exchange goods and services, for whatever reason. He'd been given some of it, and irritably, with the ire of a man trying something he had no interest in, he dug out a bundle of papers from his pocket. This appeared to please the older human, who took a few of them, giving Grimmjow a nod.
Grimmjow shrugged, and observing the other patrons in the bar, he took the glass and downed it in one go.
It took a second, then he was bent over the counter, croaking. It burned going down; the clear liquid was anything but water. He coughed and spit, mostly out of surprise. A crew of younger humans laughed at his reaction, and he glared at them.
"What, can't hold your liquor?" one of them hollered, red in the face.
"This tastes like shit," Grimmjow growled at the older man behind the bar. "Got something that don't burn on the way down?"
"We got beer," said the older man.
"Yeah, let's try one of those…"
The 'beer' was different. Not as strong, but fairly bitter. Grimmjow sipped it slowly. This was what humans did for fun, drink strange, foul-tasting liquors? Humanity was so god damn overrated.
"Look at him!"
There was a set of roaring laughs from the same people as before, the same young man having opened his mouth to sneer at him again. He was pointing and laughing. In his mind's eye, Grimmjow envisioned ripping his arm off and eating what was left, but he knew he couldn't. Fuckin' humans…
"Got something sweeter?" he asked.
The next drink was strange, brightly coloured, but it went down much smoother. By now, Grimmjow realized he was feeling… strange. Different. Very faintly dizzy. Was there something in these? Some sort of… drug?
Looking around, he realized most people seemed to be the same, most of them worse still. Loud, exuberant, behaving foolishly. He narrowed his eyes. They deliberately drank poisons that made them dizzy? That would have gotten you killed in Hueco Mundo. Humans were mad.
"Whatsa matter, buddy?" said the same foolish human as before. Grimmjow gave him a close look. He was a little red in the face, and his friends were loud, laughing at his every word.
"Cat got your tongue, huh?" said the human again. "Can't handle your drink? Why don't you have a soda on me, huh? With the girly ass drinks you're downing, you might as well!"
This earned him some uproarious laughter from his crowd of friends. Grimmjow stared him down. He was, very clearly, an idiot. Even next to Grimmjow's relatively frail form, the human was clearly smaller, weaker, and by far less impressive. His words were the words of an ignoramus.
But, fighting words were fighting words, and Grimmjow hadn't made it through the ladder by ignoring challenges.
"Why don't you shut the fuck up," he retorted, downing his drink, "if you know what's good for you?"
"Oh ho," said the young man, sounding unimpressed. "You hear that, boys? We're dealing with a real bad man over here. Bet he'll mess us up if we don't shut up, right? Won't you, mister? The moment you're finished with your girly little drink, I bet you'll get right on up and give us a real ass-kicking, won't ya?"
Grimmjow shot him a look. He couldn't fight. He wished he could, but wishes were irrelevant.
"You ain't worth it," he said dismissively.
"Told you he was a sissy!" hollered the young man, and his crowd of friends laughed uproariously. It grated at Grimmjow, but he kept his cool, calmly downing the last of his drink.
"You ain't worth it," he said, as the laughs died down, "because you're a little punk bitch."
"A punk bitch? Wow. I'm hurt, guys," said the young man, sniggering. "Next he'll call me an asshole; that will really hurt my feelings."
"You're a punk bitch," said Grimmjow, looking him in the eye, "because you're weak. You're afraid. You wouldn't be talking shit if you weren't. Real bad men don't need to talk that much shit, because when you're bad, people know. You? You're an insecure little loudmouth. You're afraid, and that's why you run your mouth. You're afraid your friends will see how weak you are underneath it all. You're afraid of your own weakness. You're afraid you can't make it in life. You're so busy choking on your own fear you can't even move forward."
As Grimmjow spoke, the laughter began to die down, and the young man's dazed, cheery face slowly became more serious, going from neutral to angry as Grimmjow strung one insult onto the next. Good. He had been guessing most of it, but judging by the punk's reaction, he'd hit the nail on the head. He didn't know much about human behaviour- but posturing? Bullying others to seem stronger than you were? Showing off? That was basic to hollows. Humans did it too, it seemed.
"You better shut the fuck up, mister," said the young man through gritted teeth, and Grimmjow sensed he wasn't as dazed by the drink as he first seemed.
"That's why you're a punk bitch," Grimmjow continued, ignoring him, "because you're weak, and you don't know what to do about it. Where I'm from, little shits like you get eaten for breakfast. You think I give a fuck about what some loudmouth idiot thinks? Girly drinks?" He snorted. "Gimme a fuckin' break. I'd snap you in half if I wanted to. Don't mean I have to."
Truth be told, he very much wanted to snap him in half, but Grimmjow knew a thing or two about posturing, himself.
"You take that shit back!"
"Or what?" Grimmjow said flatly.
The young man got to his feet, brandishing an empty beer bottle. His friends tried to grab at him, hold him back, but he had acted too quickly. He hesitated for a second, and Grimmjow knew he had been right. Coward.
Then, the punk raised the bottle, and slammed it into Grimmjow's back. He had probably aimed for the head, but whatever he had been drinking seemed to impair him. His movements were slow and sluggish, and Grimmjow knew he could easily have avoided it. It was only because he chose not to that the bottle hit. It slammed into his back, the pain of the impact a little more than a nuisance. Slowly, deliberately, Grimmjow stood up, turned around, and stepped in close. His face was inches apart from the punk's, and it seemed to dawn on him that the stranger he had just assaulted was tall, muscular, and very mean-looking.
Slowly, deliberately, and dispassionately, Grimmjow said, "Ouch."
"H-hey, fuck you, man!" said the punk, stumbling back, holding the bottle up, "You want some? Come get some!"
His voice was the shriek of a coward, a cornered rat, but Grimmjow knew he couldn't retaliate. Damn it.
"You know," he said, shooting his best shark-like grin as he took a step forward, "I'm in a real good mood. They just let me out of this shitty place where I was locked up for being a real bastard. First day out. So, here I am, celebrating."
"He was in prison?" said one of the punk's friends. "Hey, you better watch out, man!"
"Now, seeing as how I am in a good mood," Grimmjow continued, "and you're just a punk bitch, I'll let you off easy. Get the fuck out of my face, or I'll rip your guts out and choke you with 'em."
The punk seemed uncertain, even now. He was being watched by his friends, Grimmjow realized, and to back down would be to admit weakness. Damn it… fuck, why did humans have to be this much like hollows?
As a last resort, Grimmjow raised a fist, making a fake lunge forward. The punk screamed, and tripped, falling over on the floor. Inwardly, Grimmjow let out a sigh of relief. Outwardly, he let out a sadistic laugh.
"Yeah, that's what I thought!" he cheered. "Get the fuck outta here, you chicken fuck!"
The punk scrambled away from him, running out of the bar, his dazed friends joining him. They shot him frightened looks, not taking their eyes off him, and for the first time since he'd lost his arm, Grimmjow felt a sense of genuine joy. That's right. You know who's in charge here now, you little punks!
He returned back to his seat, riding the high of it. He'd bluffed on an empty hand, but then again, he'd done so before.
"Hey, old man!" he called. "Another one of those girly drinks!"
"Let me take care of that."
Grimmjow looked to his left, surprised to see a female human- a woman- having sat down next to him, shooting him a smile. By human standards, she was not quite young, but definitely not old. And, Grimmjow decided, not bad to look at.
"…Thanks?" he said, not sure what to make of this.
"Call it appreciation," she said, her hand brushing up against his. "Those loud drunks were such a bother. It was about time that a real man stepped in and taught them some manners."
"Oh. Uh, yeah. That's me. Real man, me," said Grimmjow.
"Oh, I just bet you are," said the woman, leaning in closer. "I am Reiko. You are?"
"Grimmjow," said Grimmjow.
"I thought you looked a bit like a foreigner," said Reiko. "How… romantic."
He shrugged. What was this, exactly? She seemed… interested in him, for some reason. It was a little annoying.
"Is it true what they said?" she asked curiously. "That you were in prison?"
"Yeah, about right," said Grimmjow. "I was a real bastard. Beat up people. Killed some. Anyone who fucked with me, really."
That ought to do it, right? Humans seemed to hate killing and violence, soft as they were. If he seemed contemptible, then she would leave him alone, right?
"Oh, really?" she said, leaning in even closer. "You sound like you're a real bad boy, aren't you?"
"…Yeah," said Grimmjow. What the hell was going on? For some reason, she seemed more interested than ever.
"I bet there's some good in you, though," she said, stroking his arm. "Do you work out? You seem so strong."
"Every day," said Grimmjow.
"I bet you do…"
Grimmjow looked at her with annoyance. He considered just walking away. He wasn't allowed to slap her; even that would probably be too much. He could tell her to fuck off, but… hell, now that he thought about it, some form of appreciation wasn't so bad. No red-headed harpy beating him down, just somebody seeming to enjoy his company, even if he didn't for the life of him understand why.
He blinked, staring into her eyes, his gaze travelling down to look at the rest of her face, then further down…
She wasn't bad to look at, he realized. For some reason, he found it oddly appealing, actually. And though he wasn't sure why, he found himself staring down her dress.
"Hey, my face is up here!" she said, lightly slapping his arm and giggling. "Really, you are a bad boy, aren't you?"
"Didn't you just say I was all man?" said Grimmjow. He was definitely confused now.
"You sure are," she purred.
"And also a bad boy?"
"I bet it's hard to understand when you're foreign," she said. "Maybe you need some… language lessons."
"I'm good," he muttered. He stared at her again. Something was going on. Not just with her, but… with him. He felt different. Warmer. And a little excited, deep down. Specifically, something had changed about him… physically. He looked her up and down once more, and suddenly there was an image in his mind, a memory long lost to the haze of violence. Two naked bodies clinging to one another, locked in a tight embrace, writhing together…
"You know," Grimmjow said, quite innocently, "I don't have any fuckin' clue why, but for some reason, my pants feel tighter. A lot tighter."
This elicited a husky chuckle from Reiko, who was rubbing his arm again. "You are a bold one, aren't you?"
"Well-"
"Because I like that in a man. I like men who know what they want. Do you know what you want… Grimmjow?"
Grimmjow, totally clueless, said, "Sure do."
"Well…" she said, "I know a motel just a couple blocks down. What do you say?"
"Motel?"
"You know, a place where people go to sleep. And do… other things."
"Well, don't fuckin' feel like sleepin'," said Grimmjow, quite honestly.
"Me neither."
As Grimmjow was all but dragged out of the bar, he wasn't sure what was going to happen, but he felt like it would probably be interesting. Maybe humanity wasn't as bad as he'd thought.
It was late night when Erza walked into the bedroom, wearily sliding off her uniform and collapsing onto the bed. Momo had come in a little earlier. She had avoided meeting Erza at the door, unsure of what she'd do or say. Here, where they would lie next to each other, this was the most personal, relaxed space they had. Momo took a badly needed comfort from that. She had already changed into her underwear, trying her hardest not to overthink this. Which, of course, she had done anyway.
"There you are," murmured Erza, groggy with tiredness, shooting her a smile. "Sorry I'm late. You know… you know how it is."
Momo nodded.
"Come here, huh?" said Erza, extending a hand to Momo. Momo went stiff at her touch, not responding to the way Erza playfully tugged at her.
"Or not, I guess?" said Erza, sounding a little surprised. A little hurt, even? Despite this, she didn't seem too bothered, and let go of Momo without insisting. Momo cursed herself. She had thought up a dozen different things to try to say, but they all died before she could open her mouth, choked by her own insecurities.
"Momo, are you okay?" said Erza, looking at her girlfriend. She was lying back on the bed, sprawled out, and Momo could tell she really was tired. Maybe… maybe she should just leave it be. She shouldn't bother Erza like this. It wasn't fair. It was her own issue to deal with, and she shouldn't thrust it onto anyone else.
But, if she couldn't share that with Erza… who could she share it with?
"Momo?"
"No," said Momo. "I mean, no, I'm not okay."
Slowly, Erza sat up, leaning against the wall, and gently offered her hand. Hesitantly, Momo took it.
"Want to talk about it?"
Slowly, Momo nodded, but remained silent.
"…You know," said Erza quietly, after some time had passed, "talking is pretty difficult when, you know, you aren't doing much talking."
Momo opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again.
"It's okay if you don't want to," said Erza, her thumb gently rubbing over Momo's hand.
Momo grit her teeth. She had to stop acting this pathetic.
"I… do have things to say," she whispered. "I thought of so many ways to try and say it. It's just that it all seems to go away when I try to say it. It all makes sense in here," she said, gesturing at her head, "but when I try to vocalize it…"
"It doesn't come out the way you want it to. Like there's some sort of wall there?"
Momo nodded.
"I know how that feels," Erza said solemnly. "It's not always easy, saying what you mean. But… and I don't mean to pressure you or anything, I can't really help if you don't let me know what's wrong."
Momo took a deep breath.
"I need you to forgive me."
She blurted the words out, blunt and direct.
"Momo…" said Erza, raising an eyebrow.
"I tried to think of a better way to say it, but, um… that is really it," Momo said weakly.
"For the business with that bastard fullbringer? Momo, you did nothing wrong!" Erza objected, her voice passionate, almost angry.
"I know, I know!" Momo said, whimpering the words out. "I know I had no choice, I know he went into my head and turned me against you without me being able to do anything about it, I know that! But Erza, it doesn't feel that way!"
"Momo… you can't do this to yourself," Erza said, sitting upright, squeezing her girlfriend's hand.
"Please, Erza," said Momo. "I know it wasn't my fault, but I still feel like I betrayed you. Like I just… turned my back on you. You, of all people! It just… hurts. I feel like I did something horrible. It's eating at me inside, here," she said, gesturing at her chest, just where her heart would be, "so please, just tell me you forgive me, okay? I- I know it doesn't make sense, but I just feel so scared. I feel like you would leave me over this. I feel like I don't deserve you."
"Momo, don't-"
"These are all just feelings," Momo said quickly, speaking over Erza, refusing to be interrupted by another well-meaning reassurance, "but I can't help feeling them. So… Erza, please."
Erza leaned back again, staring Momo in the eye, an agonized expression of pity on her face. She took a breath, a flare of anger on her face, and for a second Momo was sure she'd bite back, tell her how it was all ridiculous…
Then she exhaled, took another breath, and calmly said, "Momo, I forgive you."
"Thank you," Momo whispered, tears at the corners of her eyes.
"You didn't do anything wrong, still," Erza said, "but there you have it. I forgive you. Does… that make you feel better?"
"It does," Momo assured her, and crawled closer, leaning into Erza's side. "I know it's stupid, and I'm sorry…"
"Listen, we're only human," said Erza, affectionately stroking Momo's hair. She planted a light kiss on Momo's head, and put an arm around her. "We're allowed to be stupid. It's fine."
"Thank you," Momo said breathlessly.
"You're welcome," said Erza. They sat still like that for a little while, Momo trembling slightly. A stream of tumultuous emotion ran through her, like a spring river running out of control. Relief that Erza had understood. Happiness that she wasn't angry- even if logically, Momo'd known she wouldn't be. Misery that this had happened in the first place. Hurt, slowly beginning to grow less sore, like a balm had just been rubbed onto it…
"Since we're here," said Erza, "I… wanted to talk, as well."
"Anything you need," said Momo quickly.
"Momo," said Erza, looking her in the eye, "I… I don't think I've ever felt as angry as I did when I saw… that man with his hands on you. I hated it. You… you are… I mean, what you mean to me…"
Momo looked back at Erza, staring into her eyes. Vulnerable, emotional, brimming with emotion just the same as her own. Erza was stuttering, and Momo realized she was struggling to say something just like she had been only a minute ago.
"It's okay," said Momo, whispering. "I know what I am to you."
"I just… you're precious," Erza muttered, sounding partly embarrassed, partly annoyed with her inability to speak clearly.
"Thank you," Momo said, a small smile on her face. "That's all I need to hear."
"I mean… I mean, maybe…" Erza paused. "What if- I mean-"
"Yes?"
"…Forget it," Erza said, sighing to herself. "It's just that… something about that, about losing you- even if it was just temporary, and not your fault- it was driving me crazy. I lost more people than just you, but when I was out there trying to solve it, when I wasn't thinking of a plan or how to execute it… all I could think of was you. More than Isane, or Nemu, or Rukia, or even Orihime. I had to get you back somehow. It was driving me crazy. I mean, the whole situation… it was pretty maddening, right? I'm not sure how I kept it together, but um… yeah. It was…" She trailed off. "What I'm saying is… I guess what I mean is…"
She paused again, balling a fist, and frustratedly she punched the bedside. "God damn it, it isn't that hard to say!"
"You don't have to," said Momo expectantly. Truth be told, though, she rather wanted to hear it.
"I do," Erza insisted. She sighed, paused again, and took a deep breath. "If I'm honest… I had some doubts about this. About us, you know. Being in a relationship and all, I've never done that. I've always loved you as a friend, and… I've wondered, you know, is it really real? Am I just going along with it because I don't want to let her down? Am I going to realize there's nothing there, and break her heart? Because, you deserve better than that. It's scared me, Momo. I ordered that man to be put to death for it, and I had my excuses, but deep down I know at least in part it was revenge for this. I watched him die and I wouldn't even lift a finger to save him, even though I could have, and when have I ever done anything like that?"
She paused again, her voice trembling, her chest heaving.
"That's not your fault," said Momo firmly. "It wasn't you who came after him. It wasn't you who started it. He came for us. He tried to take us all. You wouldn't let him. You didn't do anything wrong, either."
"I wish I were sure about that," said Erza, shaking her head with uncertainty. "Normally, I'd have given him a chance. But now?" She grit her teeth. "But… but anyway, thinking back to all this, I think there's something there. There has to be. What I felt there, when I saw him, with you? It was heart-wrenching. Like somebody had stabbed me. I hated it. That's why I think… I think I do feel something for you, something real. It's just… it's hard for me to…"
She was interrupted by Momo, who had all but flung herself at Erza, clinging to her close, her hands cupping Erza's face. Energetically, she pressed her lips to Erza's, her eyes overflowing with tears. Erza, surprised, leaned into the kiss.
"That's plenty," said Momo, overjoyed. "You don't need to say any more than that. That's fine."
Slowly, Erza nodded, wrapping her arms around Momo. Gently, she ran a hand through Momo's hair. They lay there in quiet, just taking comfort from one another, talking about this and that in quiet, hushed voices until sleep claimed them. When it did, neither of their dreams were as dark as they had been the night before.
And so, business goes on like usual. Aizen's ready to make the lives of our heroes more difficult, and Jellal/Lanza has been given a special mission, as well as relearning some of his old tricks from when he was alive, like "Meteor". It should be made clear however, since he is now an arrancar, there maybe some...modifications to his moves. What is this mission Jellal has been given? You'll have to read next time to find out.
Grimmjow's finally beginning to see what life can be like for humans, and Erza and soifons friendship continues to grow and prosper, just like Erza's and Momo's.
Im eager to hear what you all thought of what happened in this chapter, though needless to say, we'll soon be heading into the next stages of the arrancar conflict.