AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I know I've been on a heck of a hiatus so I thank all me loyal readers for the support. I really can't believe it when I read the awesome comments I've gotten for everybody especially since I feel that the whole story hasn't been that pleasant to read with all the grammatical and (horrendous) spelling errors. Anyway, here's the rest of the plot that I've been thinking up and I hope you enjoy!

GRIMMJOW

It was a tough expectation to live up to. As Sexta, not only did he have to win his battles all the time, he had to do it as cruelly as inhumanly possible. There was a hidden meaning behind the individual ranks within the Espada. Each level represented a singular method of death and his in particular was destruction. And it was very fitting for his personality. The life he had, he had destroyed it himself. That very devastation, the unending bad luck was not exclusive to himself. He knew that his very existence in the world had lasting effects onto his own family and friends as well. And when it came to where he was now, this aspect of him thrived in the ring. It was uncanny that Aizen had placed it upon him to fulfill that role in the Espada.

Grimmjow had to beat, kill, destroy. It was in his nature.

Outside of the ring, his true nature could never be shown nor could he control the bad luck. Throughout his life, he had to walk on eggshells, constantly trying not to cause major damage to himself or to the people around him. It was his own decision not to enter college and instead he went on to enlist in the army. He figured that it'd be better if the military structured his life for him. Or maybe he could finally achieve some semblance of control of his life under someone's command. If only he known it wouldn't last that long... A few years of service and he was already discharged from the ranks; trouble seemed to follow him everywhere.

He had no choice but to move back home in Germany, only to realise that his own family was in complete chaos. His parents were god-knows-where, they had abandoned their very own children whom they had cared and supported for. Neliel, their only daughter and Grimmjow's step sister was left behind, alone in the wreckage and debts they selfishly left behind. Their parting gift was a loving, ludricrous amount of debt. A debt that would somewhat explain their sudden and disgustingly irresponsible departure. Their heartless actions had forced their very own daughter, a teenage Nel to look towards one of their relatives for solace: one whom their very own family circle had to speak only with hushed whispers regarding him, Aizen. Grimmjow had never met the man then and hearing the past stories about him, he really hadn't want to if he could.

Grimm only found out of the reality of his sister's sacrifice when he saw the giant tattoo on her back when he returned. It was a brand, a slave stamp, it branded her, ruining all her chances of possibly having a real life. The number three was her rank and it was the number and role she had to carry for the rest of her life. She was bound to their uncle, and she was no 'niece' to him, she was his pawn. Grimmjow would never want that for her. Yet, he had allowed it to happen as he had left her alone to fend for herself. He should've remained and protected his family. But he didn't. And as he returned, he had realised his mistake.

In order to somehow redeem himself, he took her current place under Aizen's command, sealing his own deal with the devil to protect the only one he truly cared for. The only one he could truly care for in the life that he called hell. He had almost nothing to lose anyway.

Neliel was the only one, the one who took the role of his parents when they weren't there and even when they were, she was his saviour and friend in the torture that was his life. By letting her have her rightful freedom, he lost his. Trying to pick up the remaining pieces of life he ended up here, juggling what's left of his shambled existence as an underground fighter, knee-deep in crime. Never being able to have a normal life in the 'real' world.

As years passed, he grew accustomed to the reclusive life he had. His social circle revolved around those in the underground and Neliel.

Then, there was Ichigo. Someone who had taken a place in his prison-like world like it was nothing. It was scary, there was never anyone in the 28 years of his life who could have done that so easily and so quickly, not even his own sister. His mind, his existence used to encompass only fighting and training even on his off days; nothing but brutality, blood.

Slowly, he'd find himself on the couch or in the theatre with said person on his side where he would find some sort of comfort with. During empty times. He finally felt he was no longer alone. Grimmjow could finally feel himself breathing. Finally tasting that freedom he once had in the past. He began to reconnect with the reality of the outside, the very reality that he had distanced from years ago.

It was petrifying when he realised that he was waking up looking forward to what next day had to bring, mostly for what Ichigo had for him.

In the arena, that was another situation and it required a different set of emotions. It was largely the same, day and day and day of gruelling training and constant pushing his body, and his opponents', to the limits.

Coincidentally, as time passed more fruitfully, Aizen was beginning to breathe down his neck even more often. The most powerful man he knew would attend all his fights and even come by during his workout days to supervise his training. It was an unnerving development of circumstances. Grimmjow had instinctively began to pay more attention to his surroundings in that case, making sure not to meet Ichigo on certain crucial moments. Having his sister under Aizen's radar was already troubling but if they found out Ichigo was associated with him, Grimmjow would never be able to forgive himself.

If that were to happen, it would kill him. He could not let Ichigo be used as leverage against him

It was never easy for him to completely risk his life in the ring. As he slowly started to yearn for the other man, so did the worry. For the first time, Grimmjow had felt nervous. He was anxious as he knew that he could barely ensure his own safety, let alone his sisters and his friends. He knew he had to protect Ichigo. He had to stay far. It was becoming too dangerous.

Ichigo

"Where are we going, Shinji?" Silence.

"You just turned left, we are entering the docks, you know that right?"

It was a long day, and they were currently driving from Shinji's warehouse. Ichigo, as the head representative for I.D had to participate in a new collaboration project with Shinji's jewellery line. It was horribly convenient which is why it was something that was inevitable. The two designers were like fire and ice; Ichigo was in the middle, the holy mediator, trying to prevent the two from having the ultimate clash of great minds.

It was a given that he would be a part of their planning. Ichigo, being the person he was, took it in stride to get the whole collaboration thing into movement. He had not a single clue about fashion but he had some confidence to admit that he knew what people liked. So there he was, doing what had to be done: some design meetings here and there for that day. And at the end, he finally hitched a ride back with Shinji. It was usually hectic so everybody in the team was frazzled and frustrated but there was something that Ichigo had noticed with his partner.

Shinji was acting pretty shifty that whole week. He was checking his phone for texts even more than usual and often excused himself for some important calls which has never once happened. Shinji was the type to be fully dedicated to his work and his profession. Shinji's commitment to his work was often admirable thus in those very few instances, it was unfathomable to Ichigo that Shinji's work was taking a back seat for the blonde.

Ichigo managed to get a vague idea on what was stressing him out. Apparently, Shinji was supposed to make an exchange in a hidden location. Ichigo hadn't purposely intended to intrude but sensing how shady Shinji was being. It had raised his hackles and it was his duty to be there for his brother. And subconsciously, the other man had felt the same. Of which explains why on this special day, he was allowing Ichigo to tag along.

Shinji was driving his mini cooper in docks, weaving through giant metal boxes and warehouse buildings without any map. Shinji knew where he was going, which in Ichigo's mind was sending major signals as the other man had no sense of direction.

"Hey, why are we here? Where are we going man? You've been silent the whole drive, it's beginning to weird me the fuck out." Shinji had been quiet the whole damn day, which Ichigo knew Shinji was being too serious about this. The blonde had never been this level of serious since ever. The atmosphere was getting a little tense for his liking.

Suddenly, the car stopped.

Shinji had parked his car in some warehouse that had its shutter open like all the others. There were other cars and bikes all parked and arranged in an organised fashion. The whole place was dark and only the orange lights from the overhanging cranes lit the place. It looked as the docks were closed for the night. There were industrial vehicles surrounding the place. Ichigo was getting a little nervous and it wasn't helping that his usually noisy best friend was acting strange. They walked out of the car into a nearby storage house. Just as he couldn't take the confusion anymore,

"Okay, here's the deal. My father has a job for me in this place. I gotta go in, talk to some big shot and settle some business-territory shit." Shinji had broken the silence, thankfully.

"Then what about me?"

"For now you're my bodyguard. This place is like the dog cages alright. Drugs and cage fighting. This ain't no joke. I ain't scared but I'm sure as hell not going in alone. I usually go with my actual bodyguard but you're the next best case in this urgent matter. Huge rush. No one makes the boss wait"

Sensing the seriousness in his best friend's voice, Ichigo just nodded. He had heard of the underground cage fighting before. It was the hushed conversation in the town. He had already suspected Yoruichi and Zaraki were from there anyway. It wasn't as if they were flaunting it, but he had noticed that the both of them had interesting company at times. In some of their conversations with those interesting looking friends, they would always be talking about some 'ring', and subtly, their body language would immediately be cautious and secretive. It was those little things Ichigo would catch up on and he had a rising suspicion that Grimmjow might be a part of it too. Finally being able to see what 'the ring' was, he had to admit he was a little intrigued.

Ichigo obediently followed behind Shinji. He decided to stay quiet as a form of respect to the intensity of the whole situation. As they weaved through parked cars and bikes, they entered what seemed to be a workers' locker room. He was paying attention to the surroundings, and noticed that the place was in fact, a male locker room that is still in use. He had to secretly admit it was a little bit of a letdown since he was expecting a secret base yada yada yada. There were personal belongings strewn everywhere on the benches, hung all over the place, and there was the familiar stench of sweat and body odour. He began not to expect much from the dirty room but when he saw Shinji went to the shower corner to open up the drain cover, that was when he knew this was some real shit. Shinji suddenly climbed down and Ichigo followed suit. They were climbing down a shaft.

Ichigo was expecting a sewer considering they came down towards the drain but it wasn't. Instead it was a path down to some basement, and as they continued walking forward it was actually formed a tunnel. walking quite a distance, it was obvious they were walking towards some other larger base. There were extensive amount of pipes that were redirecting the drainage to make space for the tunnel.

After quite a distance, there was a crossroad where a few tunnels similar to what they were passing through were all being connected. Each of the entrances had some sort of security cell door and a bodyguard stationed there surrounded with security cameras. The men were built like brick houses, huge and menacing, with no expression was kept on their faces. The tunnels were stark white, and serrated metal panels made up most of the floors. The place was immaculate and clean, oddly like a hospital. As they finally reached towards the gate, Shinji flashed some sort of card and told the man that Ichigo was with him. Ichigo peered over and there were other people in line at the other gates as well, waiting in their respective queue to be allowed into wherever it is.

The huge bodyguard frisked both of them and once cleared, they were buzzed through. The bodyguards were easily twice their size, donning security equipment and rifles hanging on their back. The passages were barren, the place clearly resembled an old sewage distribution area. Ichigo got chills when he noticed how big of a deal this thing must be if they managed to make a whole working sewer in such a huge area into a private passage.

They were let in to what seemed to be an elevator in the centre of these crossroads. The other visitors in the different tunnels were still waiting to be checked individually by the security. Entering the elevator, he had expected to go up, instead the elevator went down and began to travel sideways.

As they reached the destination, Ichigo could hear the buzzing of people and movement. The nearer they got to the base, the louder the noise got. It wasn't exactly the hushing of quiet conversations, it was the roar of a crowd and the shouting, hollering bustle of people in a stadium tournament. They went through another round of security, equally as stringent, before they reached what seemed to be a mass of fighting rings.

Shinji wasn't exaggerating about referencing the place to being like 'dog cages'. To him, it felt more like a collection of jail cells. The entire place was shaped like a hexagonal cone. It was clearly five storeys high, and they were on the third floor. As he looked down, there were small cages where people gathered around as contestants fought inside. These cages were raised above ground, high enough so everyone could watch and none could enter. Even then there was like a metal cage-like fence around it, preventing outsiders from entering. The main show was where the biggest cage was. Placed in the middle presenting all of its glory. It was definitely where most of the attention was placed at and people from all the other floors were watching the same scene. The main cage was significantly larger and more grand, hundreds of people surrounded it, all of them watching the two contestants inside in combat. The main floor was also littered with liquor bars in the far corners, nobodies and somebodies getting their fair share of alcoholic drinks and whatever narcotics that they could get their hands on. The stench coming from the cocktail of drugs could easily get any person with a decent sense of smell slightly high off it; which also explains why no one was giving a shit of the blood, grime and puke all over the cement floor.

It was almost a sea of black, nearly completely crowded with people as Ichigo saw over their heads. Men and women constantly moved around cheering and shouting for the individual matches. Money grasped in their fists, thrown over their heads as they placed their bets on the fighters. He never realised how the underground rings were such a big event.

And since they were on the third story, he saw the upper levels where it coned to a tip. The fourth was adjoining to the fifth where the highest one was totally made up of a glass floor. From where he was, he could only see a few pieces of furniture on that floor. It was a very small space, made to only fit the comfort of a singular man and Ichigo was able to make out one person sitting in the middle, staring down at what was happening before him. Anyone could guess that the man on that floor was the head honcho.

The rest of the other second, third and fourth levels were different and had glass windows for what Ichigo figured was the VIP section. They did not have glass floors but they an equally luxurious and plush carpeting. It was like a private screening: people in suits, with expensive bottles and women sitting on their laps, those were a symbol of wealth universally. They were protected from the mess of the first floor just by the floor to ceiling glass panels as well as being elevated from the ground.

It was clear they were enjoying the show below them as well. There were flatscreen televisions everywhere, showing some sort of match listing. They even had Spanish-English commentators going on about the fights. From what he could see, some could even tune in on their phones to get details. Technology definitely was useful. Ichigo wasn't the only one analysing his environment at that moment, Shinji was also doing the same thing next to him, leaning on the glass window. There was a dark look on his best friend's face.

"Beautiful, ain't it?" the blonde man sneered. Obviously it was sarcasm, Ichigo knew that tone. Things like this could never be beautiful. It was sad.

The men and women fighting in the cages bled, their screams and groans of pain and suffering stood out starkly against the cheering and booing of the audience. It was torture to watch humans like them being reduced to this. Just like animals put on display. And he knew every single of one did it for their survival, whether they liked it or not; it was another story of their own. Primal. Instict. Survive.

The message behind all of this was clear, there was corruption everywhere and people continue to live no matter how unfair their lives were. For the fortunate ones, it was obvious their existence was already filled with splendour and ease that they had to come to the extent of seeking the underground for 'entertainment'. It was sickening to see people like them feeding off the poor. For the unfortunate ones, they fought for their lives. Some even wanting to climb that ladder to be one of those. It was a never-ending cycle, a battle of the fittest.

"Come on, we have to go up." Shinji led them up an emergency staircase to the fourth floor. They went through another round of security before they entered some sort of private pub. There were other men all around, in their own couches and at the bar seats. There were only a few individuals but their wealth and influence can be sensed from far away. From Ichigo's peripheral vision, he could already recognize the faces of certain politicians and businessmen. They walked to spot near an elevator that led to the top. Ichigo looked out to the main floor again.

The glass windows were soundproofed and it blocked them from the nauseating stench and noise. It was a world away from what was happening on the first floor. Slowly, a waitress in a cheongsam came towards them, handing the two men a crystal cup of yellow gold. Scotch. They took it from her hands out of consideration. Ichigo held on to the cup, studying the heavy piece of what seemed to be really expensive crystal ware while Shinji downed the whole drink like it was a single shot when it was clearly meant to be savoured.

"Wait here, I'm going up to meet Aizen. Hang around and I don't know, do something," from the man's tone, Ichigo knew that Shinji was nervous. Only a small list of things made the blonde tense and shiver in fear. First, his parents, second was old pervert ladies and nothing else. Even then, he would try to do everything with a smile on that small face of his and if he had no choice but to do it, he would still so the same while gritting his teeth.

Ichigo just patted his back for support and allowed Shinji to do whatever he needed to do. He saw his friend make his way up and subsequently, Ichigo went to a corner where there was a sofa directly facing the window downstairs. He sat on it, his attention immediately focused on the ring below him. He found the nearest flatscreen: NNOITORA GILGA vs PESCHE GUATICHE

There was a 7-feet tall man battling someone of a hugely smaller size in the main ring. The latter was already bleeding from the stomach, hunched over, while the former was on his one knee, just staring at his opponent with a loving smile on his mouth. The tallest on in there was labelled NNOITORA seen on the screen and the crowd was chanting his name like a god. His wide set teeth were in display and a tongue flicked out to wet the blood from his chin. The man was a sadist to the core, Ichigo knew that expression all to well. Being in any sort of fight, be it a martial arts competition or a bar fight, after a while, a trained eye would've learned how to study their opponent: their movements and their expression. Ichigo had only heard of people like the one he's seeing. And what he's currently watching gave him chills down his spine. This sort of man wanted to fight, no such thing as doing it out of defense, this was the bloodthirsty grin of a killer.

The lanky man was bare chested, his pants were some sort of white genie pants and his fists were wrapped in bandage. On his back was some sort of scythe, a weapon thing that hung taller than his own head, making him look like the grim reaper himself. The charcoal blade of the scythe was already dripping with blood, dripping on the wielder's shoulders. And the audience, they kept on screaming and cheering on for this Nnoitora. And the same collective booed when his opponent stood up. It was a horrendous sight, a butchering scene. The smaller man stood no chance against the 7-foot sadist. Ichigo could only wish the battle would end and some sort of bell will ring, signalling the persons defeat. It was clearly not going to happen. Ichigo had the naïve thought that the fight would end before the opponent actually bled to death. The fact that the competitors could carry weapons into the ring itself was a clear ominous sign. Life was at stake and death was probably the only way out for the fighters.

The smaller man was already pouring blood from the slashed stomach, he was clearly holding in his innards from busting out where the tail of his small intestine already jutting out from the side. Nnoitora seemed to have no sense of pity and just continued to kick the man around. Making sure to aim for the abdomen where the man was urgently protecting it with his arms. It was brutal. Brutal torture.

Just then, Nnoitora did a low kick, making his opponent fall on the ground on his back. Pesche was caught by surprise and was immediately brought into the very depths of hell when Nnoitora decided to step on the stomach wound, stomping down on the slashed and exposed stomach.

Ichigo almost couldn't take it anymore when he begun to hear the horrifying wails and screams of the man through the soundproof glass. What made it worse was when he heard the accompanying screams of the crowd as they saw Nnoitora's foot slowly descending downwards towards the ground; the mans arms not withstanding and instead pushing down and entering the mans open wound. Nnoitora was forcing his feet down, the mans arms making way as the wound tore open and his arms went deeper and deeper.

Ichigo couldn't breathe. No one was stepping in to stop the fight. The man was going to die. Ichigo had to stand up suddenly. He couldn't. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

CRACK. And with the deafening sound, the audience cheering was at its loudest.

Whatever that sound was, Ichigo did not want to find out. From the glimpse he managed towards the television, Nnoitora's foot had straightened out to touch the ground, right through the man's abdomen, organs spilling out. Pesche's face was pale, mouth open in shock and no longer moving. It was a clear sign of death and yet his eyes remained open, as if he didn't want to die. Yet there he was, lying in a sea of blood. And Nnoitora was celebrating, pure unadulterated joy towards the man's agony. With the loser's insides now outside and the man no longer screaming in agony, some sort of satisfaction was achieved by the audience and for the winner.

Ichigo covered his mouth, hiding the gasp from the other people around him. A waitress had noticed and offered assistance but he refused it. shit, he needed the time to breathe.

Ichigo sat back on the plush seat, trying his best to not look down at the scene again. He downed the rest of his drink, in high hopes that maybe the alcohol would take away some of the shock.

"Hey, you okay?" Shinji had touched his shoulder and Ichigo was visibly surprised by it. He flinched a little but Shinji caught his reaction. He peered down at the ring and he nodded.

"I went through the same thing the first time I came here. You kinda get used to it after a few visits but it's still bad every single time. From what I've heard about the fighters, I'd rather they die in the ring then whatever hellhole they came from"

He steeled himself and peered down. A couple of men had entered the ring and had begun to drag the body out in a trashbag. A trail of blood left in its path.

"Let's get out of here." Relief.

"Yeah."

As they made their way down to the first lift, Ichigo passed by some sort of major gathering, his eyes focused on them as he moved. It caught his eye because there was a group of people in some sort of higher elevated area, where Nnoitora was standing, doing a weird repeat of his moves with the scythe. There were others that were just like him, dressed in all white, a bleached ivory, the off-white colour of bone. In the area, there were only a few men and a single woman. They were carrying their own assortment of weapons by their side. By then, Ichigo had stepped into the elevator waiting for it to close.

Suddenly, there was a familiar shade of teal hair walking towards group from a connecting back room. Ichigo leaned forward to get a clearer look at what he nearly saw. What? No. He knew that face from anywhere. And that blue hair was impossible to replicate. His heartbeat quickened.

It couldn't be. That was when he saw blue eyes and he knew his answer.

Just as he wanted to step forward, the door had totally closed from in front of him.

"Wait!"

"Can we get back up? I need to see something really quick." Ichigo turned to Shinji immediately, then trying to look for the buttons in the elevator.

"Can't. Each card is valid for a way up and a way down per day."

"Shit." His heart was beating rapidly by then and the urge to move around begun to overtake his body.

"What happened? Why are you so jumpy all of a sudden?"

"I think... I think I saw Grimmjow." There was no point hiding the truth from his best friend. The other man knew him better than he did.

"Wait, what? Seriously?" Shinji's shock was apparent in his voice as well.

"Yeah, he was with this group with the Nnoitora guy. And he was wearing all white? I don't know. I gotta go up and make sure." Ichigo really couldn't handle unanswered questions well. Ichigo was starting to make all sorts of connections in his head. He imagined a Grimmjow in the white suit, in the main ring and recollected a Grimmjow from his memory, hair a mess sleeping soundly next to him. They couldn't be the same person. They couldn't. But it all could make sense. He had to know!

"Hold on. Don't be stupid. You don't mess with the security here, those rifles are not for show."

"But," his heart dropped. His throat parched.

"No buts. Just come back whenever. I'll give you my access card. You said he was wearing all white?"

"Yeah." Ichigo reaffirmed him and the man just nodded in some sort of understanding. Did I miss out on something? He saw the look of recognition in his friends face, as if the other man had already knew.

"What? What does that mean?"

"Nothing and just that whatever I had guessed of him was right." Ichigo didn't want to push his friend into telling him what his assumptions were. Currently, millions of thoughts were processing in his head. A lot of the odd things that Grimmjow did suddenly made a whole lot of sense. The martial arts gym, the mysterious bruises and cuts and the insane reflexes. Suddenly, it all added up. The revelation was currently shaking his world to the core because he didn't know how to confront this man any more. This was a different Grimmjow that even he hadn't been able to foresee. Had everything been a lie? Had Grimmjow been a lie? Was Grimmjow even his name? Was what they shared even real? Could he even see the man the same? If Grimmjow was like the man in the ring, he could be a killer, a murderer, only for the eyes of the many and an entertainment to some.

Holy shit. Ichigo could only squat down as his legs gave out. He took deep breaths as he closed his face with his palms.

Who was Grimmjow?