Typewriterman: Thanksgiving draws near, and since I doubt I'll be able to upload this at any other time (too many exams, don't-cha-know?) I guess I'll do it now!

.Chapter 17.

It was a miracle that he managed to escape when he could. The fight those few weeks ago had severely taxed him heavily. For days and weeks Ping stumbled about and rested whenever he could. Panting deep breaths, he opened his eyes after what seemed to be a whole lifetime and squinted at the dawn of light creeping over the building above him and into the dark and dank alleyway he had crawled into. He clutched his shoulder again from the slightest bit of pain and cursed at how weak he was.

My…Zanpakuto… he murmured, damning himself for being especially weak to rely on such a power again. He glanced downwards into a dirty puddle and winced dejectedly at the sullen and beaten figure of the reflection that looked back at him. Grinding his teeth tightly, Ping attempted to bring himself back to his feet using the sheathed sword at his side as a makeshift cane.

Without warning, a heavy blow landed against his jaw, and nearly knocked unconscious by the hit, Ping flew and thumped into a pile of garbage. The injured and pitiful man attempted to save his injured shoulder from hitting the ground, by rolling in midair to prevent further anguish to his old wounds. Metal garbage cans crumpled as glass shattered and rang out from several bottles rolling away from the impact zone.

Groaning softly and caressing his bruised face with a trembling hand, Ping looked up groggily and gasped. A second mighty blow hit his stomach now, leaving him defenseless and easy to overpower by the large hand that grabbed his ripped collar. Shoving him hard against the brick wall, Ping lost the wind from his lungs and struggled uselessly as his feet dangled above the ground. In front of him, the bearded and gruesomely large man grinned at the pitiful and meek looking Vizard in his grasp.

"You…bastard…" Ping attempted to breath out, his smaller more human sized hands frantically tried to loosen the giant's grip on his throat but to no avail. Then, with a cruel smile on the large man's face, he was tossed across the alleyway like a rag doll caught in a torrent of wind, only to slam hard against another wall. Again grabbed by the neck, Ping was dragged up against the wall to be brought face to face with his attacker once more. Gasping out for breath, a small speckle of blood escaped his mouth, and landed on the large man's leather coat. Insulted for such a crime, the large man growled demonically and beast-like, and cocked his hand back to finish-

"-That's enough, Mikio…" a stern yet soft voice commanded the beast of a man. There was no need to elaborate or repeat the instruction. The large man known as Mikio had immediately dropped his ready arm, and in fact loosened his grip of the other to allow the battered and bruised Ping to fall into a pile of cardboard boxes. Coughing again through his sore throat and stinging ribs, a soft set of clacks approached him. He could only open up his left eye, as his right had swelled from the pummeling and his body trembled as the second man crouched down from his standing position to look at him at eye level.

"Nice to see you, Ping…what have you been up to?" the man's voice asked warmly. Despite the dulcet tone in his greeting, it sent shivers up the injured man's spine. His brown suit and well worn tie had become the man, starkly different from the black robes and white haori the elder gentleman had worn when they first met. The brown fedora was taken in the man's hands to allow better view of his face; wrinkled with age and experience, despite the much more youthful look in his amber eyes. "I'm surprised that you decided to keep her around…" he said distractedly. In his other hand was the sheathed sword Ping had earlier, his Zanpakuto. "But I doubt you're going to need it anymore, huh?"

"…" Ping attempted to respond, but his throat was too injured and bloody.

"Well, there's only one thing left…"

"I…I'll never tell you…where…Suzume…is…Kazuhiro" Ping hoarsely wheezed out. His lip quivered involuntarily as blood mixed with his saliva.

"Oh no…" Kazuhiro chuckled, "…that's very gentlemanly of you, but there won't be any need for that." His smile grew wider at the sight of Ping's paler complexion. "She's exactly where I want her to be, and with you here, there are no wildcards for me to worry about." Unsheathing the sword in his hand, the blade rose into the air, the empty slash flew downwards.

Red splashed through its target.

Typewriterman (again): Well, this chapter is short and sweet. (Just like a sugar-covered midget!!) ... (sorry, I mean little person!)

...legalities...

Based in a post-Aizen AU where Rukia and Ichigo got...it...on!!!