Chapter 12: The Two Faces of Jaice
Jaice sighed sadly as the wall of the arena closed behind him, the sound resonating with a deep, bass note that seemed to signal the beginning of a fierce battle. "You're my opponent?" Jaice moaned for the third time, looking over to see his tall, lanky bespectacled opponent.
"Yes, isn't that obvious?" The taller black-haired shinigami answered, adjusting his glasses and letting out a quick cough. "My name's Cren Fjorson, or did you forget that too?"
"It was rhetorical," Jaice replied, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I want to fight strong opponents and, no offense, you don't look like much." Jaice sighed again as he noticed the thin body of his adversary. "You're too thin to be strong and you're too tall to be very fast, so I've got you beat in two categories, not to mention my zanpakuto," at that he drew Sangren, "is much deadlier than yours," with that, he pointed his machete at the sword strapped across his opponent's back.
The bespectacled Shinigami gulped as he drew out his katana, holding it in a low stance in order to account for his height advantage. This caused Jaice to smirk as he edged towards the other Shinigami. "I refuse to release my shikai in earnest until you do," Cren stated shakily, his sword jittering up and down as Jaice approached.
"Well, my blade is constantly released," Jaice laughed, "but I have to call upon its ability. You might as well use your initial release now, otherwise I'll cut you to ribbons in seconds. Now, are we going to fight or stand around talking until one of us dies of boredom?"
"Fine then, let's make it quick," Cren answered, a new resolve emerging in his voice. "I don't have time to waste on punks like you. I've got to win this tournament; a promotion for me is long overdue."
"What about shut the hell up and fight don't you understand?" Jaice roared as he raced towards Cren while swinging Sangren wildly around his head. Cren reacted quickly, sidestepping Jaice's strike and slamming the flat of his katana into the back of Jaice's neck, sending him into the floor of the arena. Jaice rapidly recovered, rose to his feet, and slashed at Cren, who dodged once again and aimed a well-placed stab at Jaice's chest; the 9th Squad brunette, however, parried the blow with alarming force and lashed out at Cren, cutting lightly into the taller Shinigami's chest as he withdrew slightly.
"You're good at dodging, I'll give you that," Jaice said, heaving slightly.
"And you're one resilient bastard," Cren answered, wiping sweat from his brow. "Usually when I use my Backhand Blow my adversary is subdued; I usually don't use the flat of the blade, but since killing is against the tournament rules, I decided against that normal tactic."
"What an uncreative name for a move," Jaice replied sourly. Though a damn useful one, he thought. My neck is pretty sore after that blow, and a hit like that to the back of my skull could knock me out of consciousness and this tournament.
"Yes, but it did the job," Cren answered, advancing towards Jaice at a slow pace, still wary of his unpredictable assailant. "As I said, you're pretty tough to withstand that, especially since it doesn't look like I broke any bones. Sadly, that's expected given my lack of strength as you so blatantly pointed out earlier."
"Damn it, just shut up and fight!" Jaice declared, erupting from a crouched stance and plunging Sangren blindly forward. Cren replied with a series of quick steps to the side and rear until he was standing behind Jaice who could not halt his advance because of the massive momentum the brown-haired Shinigami had gained; the bespectacled warrior, now behind his machete wielding foe, fired a blast of White Lightning that not only damaged his opposition, but also pushed his ever faster forward.
Jaice let out a grunt of pain as the beam of electric kidou collided with his back, shut his eyes, and bit his lip as his blade collided with something hard, sending a shockwave into his hands, through his arms, and up into his shoulder and torso. Damn, I think that move did more damage to me than his strike earlier, mused Jaice. Upon opening his eyes, Jaice saw a troubling sight: Sangren was lodged in the arena wall. "Shit!"
"Well, Jaice, looks like you're in a troubling position," Cren cried cheerily. "You could abandon your zanpakuto and try to fight me using kidou, but judging by your wild attacks I doubt that's your style. You also have the option of trying to free it from the wall, but thanks to my plan and your strong charge that blade most likely will take some time to pry out, even if you possess a fair amount of strength. Now, how about we save time and you just surrender?"
"Wait...aren't these walls supposed to be reinforced and unbreakable?" Jaice questioned, looking again to ensure that his sword was truly stuck in the stone.
"No, it's only partly true," Cren said. "I've actually got a friend who is one of the referees for this tournament, and, as it turns out, while the walls are strong, they are nowhere near indestructible. The center is the thickest part, mainly so that separate parts of the arena don't end up fighting one another. The very outside, however, is weaker; it's not flimsy by any means, but it can be destroyed. You should actually county yourself lucky that you held your machete in from of you as you charged: my plan was to blast you into the wall and have the force of the impact knock you out, but because your sword hit first a great deal of the impact dissipated."
Yes, just keep him talking, Jaice thought as he continued to try and wriggle the sword free. Any minute now I'll have Sangren out and I can shut him up! Sadly, Jaice's efforts seemed to have no effect even as he struggled again and again against the polished stone of the arena wall.
"Well, since you seem to avoid the subject of surrender, I guess I'll just have to end this," Cren stated matter-of-factly, approaching Jaice with sword drawn. "It was a good fight, but now it's over." As Cren neared Jaice he swung rapidly, his blade whipping at high speed towards Jaice...but Cren seemed to have merely sliced air. He looked around, confused, until Jaice's laughter broke his train of thought.
"Looking for me, beanpole?" Jaice chuckled viciously from beside Cren.
"What the..." but before Cren could finish speaking he was forced to raise his katana to block an oncoming blow from Jaice's machete. The two grunted as their swords collided, but Cren's turned to a gasp as Jaice's blade bit into his chest and he was forced to jump back, a searing pain still gnawing at his chest.
"Arg, I really wish I didn't have to release before you did," Jaice muttered. "It feels so...boring, but I guess it gets the job done."
"Damn you! What is this...stuff?" Cren screamed as the greenish fluid ran down his chest and ate away at his clothes and skin. "And how did you get free?"
"I can answer both questions with one word: acid. Sangren's ability is to make acid which uses my own blood as its foundation, meaning that the liquid can't hurt me but is hell for my enemies."
"But, you said to use that ability you had to declare! I didn't hear you speak at all when I tried to strike you with my katana!" Cren wailed as the acid continued to run down his body.
"Whoever said a Shinigami had to yell out his command full blast? I said the usual line as a whisper to myself so that you wouldn't hear. The acid from Sangren ate away at the stone minutes ago, meaning my blade was freed before you even came over to strike me." Jaice said, smiling at his tactic.
"A clever ruse," Cren said, his voice returning to normal as the acid finally ran off his body and onto the ground, pooling and mixing with blood at his feet forming a murky, black liquid. "Now, I guess it's only fair that I use my shikai, especially since I can't beat you fighting the way I am at the moment."
"And I need to call out more acid," Jaice replied, noticing that Sangren was drier than he'd have liked. "Let's release together, eh?"
"Fine by me! Recall the past and distort the future, Januseiz!" Cren roared.
"Bleed, Sangren!" Jaice called back heartily. A new volume of acid began to bathe Jaice's machete blade as he turned to see what his opponent's shikai looked like.
Cren's face was expressionless as he hefted his strange shikai with both hands. It consisted of two blades jutting out in opposite directions from a central handle. One blade was wavy and had a color like that of the ocean, a shifting hue of cyans and viridians. The other half of the sword was a straight, serrated blade comprised of dark violet metal with a black sheen.
"That's an interesting weapon you've got there," Jaice said in awe, admiring the odd shape of his combatant's weapon. "It'll be fun to see what it does."
"You won't want to," Cren said. "My zanpakuto, Januseiz, deals with the mind. I only need to strike you once and you'll be reduced to nothing. Now, let's begin!"
"Glad we're finally done chatting! It's time to lose, Cren Fjorson!" Jaice roared as he charged Cren, who replied with a charge of his own. As they neared one another, their blades almost making contact with the other's body, Cren sidestepped at the final second.
"You fell for the same trick again, Jaice Gandaime! You'll pay an even bigger price this time!" Cren spat, slashing the 9th Squad Shinigami with the wavy blade.
Suddenly, Jaice found himself standing atop a podium, cheers erupting around him. "Jaice! Jaice! Gandaime-san! The best! Jaice the Ace!" He looked around and saw row upon row of Shinigami, literally thousands of individuals yelling congratulations to him. As the chorus of voices filled his ears, Jaice felt a cold hand clamp on his shoulder and wheeled around to see a massive muscular man wearing a suit of bronze-colored samurai armor on his body with a gray cowl over his face.
"You've bled enough people dry for sport, care to take a final challenge?" The man's voice echoed, a hollow sound almost like that of a rusted bell. Jaice didn't even answer with words, instead drawing Sangren and lunging at the armored man. The figure laughed as the machete deflected harmlessly off his polished suit of armor.
"I will show you how true Shinigami fight...this is real power!" The man's voice boomed as he rushed at Jaice and kicked him six times in rapid succession: twice in the chest, thrice on the skull, and a final finishing blow to the groin. Jaice coughed as the man charged again, this time wielding a spear that seemed to have appeared from nowhere; the polearm pierced Jaice's chest as the man forced him back into the crowd of spectators. Jaice looked around for aid, yet the people who had once cheered for him now kicked at his injured body and threw stones as his bloodied skin, vile curses erupting from their mouths.
"Damn you bastards all to the seventh circle of Hell!" Jaice screamed, spinning on his back and kicking his legs outward, flooring a score of onlookers. He then saw his first opponent and charged the man, a punch aimed at his head. The blow connected before the armored man could dodge of block, and the massive kabuto shattered into millions of fragments. As the pieces fell to the ground, Jaice wrenched the man's spear from his hands, hit him across the back of the head with the butt of the weapon, and, abandoning the weapon, grabbed the man by both arms and ripped his mask off. Beneath the cowl Jaice saw the stunned face of Cren Fjorson.
As if he had never left, which it seemed he had not, Jaice found himself back in the arena, with several light slashes across his body and a pain in his head, chest, and groin; he had one fairly deep stab wound in his chest, but Jaice's searing anger made him ignore the obvious pain. He looked to see that he was gripping Cren Fjorson whose face was covered with blood, the right lens of his glasses had several cracks running across the pane but he looked otherwise unharmed.
"That was a neat little trick," Jaice growled, gripping Cren more tightly.
"Yes, I was able to get a few good hits on you when you were under the ability of Seiz, the Blade of the Future. It projects a vision to the one slashed, often causing them to panic and be at my mercy. You, however," here Cren paused before continuing, "are a special case. You were able to move fairly well while still under the spell, almost as if your body fought on against your mind."
"I've never been totally in sync," Jaice muttered, "but enough of your shit. I can't take these tricks anymore; I've got you in a good hold: surrender now and I won't have to break your spine."
"Temper temper," Cren replied calmly. "I haven't even shown you what my other blade, Janu, can do. Most people fear the future, and so Seiz is my original weapon of choice as it requires less reiatsu to sustain. Then again, some people's past troubles them infinitely more, and I'm willing to bet," at this Cren flipped Januseiz around and drove the violet blade into Jaice's gut, "that you're one of those people."
Hundreds of images flashed across Jaice's eyes as he fought to contain the horrible pain around him; he knew that Cren was slashing him repeatedly, yet that didn't make these visions any less real. No, there was truth behind all of them, things Jaice hadn't thought about in years, and others that haunted him daily: a short blond woman brought a younger Jaice a cup of tea, Baiten and Tairos argued with one another over the results of a bet, a Hollow consumed a Plus of an old man, a sword whipped in front of Jaice's face as he grabbed the blade and kicked the rugged man wielding it, Jaice was lying on a table with an IV in his arm, Jaice was alone in a pitch black room with screams echoing around him, a blond girl that looked like the woman cried as Jaice walked away, the same girl had her arms hacked off by a man whose back was the only visible part of his body, Jaice stroked a tabby cat, a whip snapped across Jaice's spine, a brand slammed against his flesh as he screamed in agony...and then one final vision that was longer and more vivid than any of the others.
Jaice was in a large room with little light, perhaps some sort of underground chamber. The room stretched into the shape of a massive sphere with walls that seemed to be composed of some sort of mud. Jaice looked at his body and saw that he was nearly naked, wearing only a set of torn green shorts. His body was covered with scars and dirt and there was a strange mark on his right arm. He looked around the room and noticed two dozen other men dressed similarly to him in similar states of filth with similar, yet slightly different, marks on their right arms. He heard a dull voice echo, "Let's begin phase three." All the men seemed to know what this meant as they rushed towards one another, their grimy hands clawing, their mangy legs kicking, their rotting teeth biting into one another's flesh and tearing it away in large chunks. Jaice watched the madness unfold, yet felt a strange desire to enter it. He jumped, flipping in the air, to land in the center of the fray where he slammed the heads of two men together. As they fell, he grabbed one's loincloth and wrapped it around the neck of another man, strangling him while simultaneously kicking the others who approached him. After a minute, the man was asphyxiated and Jaice let him drop, headbutting an approaching enemy as he did so. In the space of a few moments, all the other men lay dead or wounded at Jaice's feet. He let forth a primal scream, and then began to laugh. "Well done subject R. Prepare for phase four."
It was at this instant Cren Fjorson noticed a strange image float over the face of the man he had been slashing: it hadn't been easy, as Jaice had somehow dodged many of the strikes and recovered Sangren from the place he had dropped it during his first vision, but a good one in three attacks were landing and thus Cren knew he'd eventually win. The change, however, was startling, as Jaice burst out with a round of malicious, raucous laughter.
"You stupid son of a bitch!" Jaice chuckled madly, swinging Sangren around his head as he did so, dripping some acid onto his body. "You made me remember..."
"Remember what?" Cren questioned, his voice shaking. This isn't good. He's a damn dangerous one to have his body and mind act independently of one another. I'll have to end this quick or there's no telling what will happen. Cren rushed at Jaice who was still laughing maniacally.
"Don't you get it? I remembered them! I'm the 18th, and you're just a sack of bones!"
He's sprouting gibberish, Cren thought as he neared Jaice, but one good strike and it's my win. Cren brought his blade back to ready it for a final blow...
...but he was too late. A sharp shock shot through Cren's chest and he looked down to see Sangren buried in the wound it had initially made, a new stream of acid trickling into the already deep wound.
"Say it...say who's the king!" Jaice laughed hysterically. "Or perhaps you'd prefer to call me general? I don't give a damn, just show some respect!"
It was at this moment a tournament referee rushed in; she was about a head shorter than Jaice, but the stare in her eyes was determined as she rushed in, her purple ponytail flapping behind her as she ran. "This match is over, Jaice Gandaime, you've won. You can put Fjorson-san down now."
"And who might you be? My next meal?" Jaice cackled. "Let me finish him first."
"Oh God no, get him away from me! He's a mad man! Who knows what he'll do!" Cren cried, his entire body shuddering as he tried to pull away from Jaice who only held on ever tighter and twisted Sangren, causing Cren to scream and cough up blood.
"Jaice Gandaime, you are violating tournament protocol and causing unnecessary damage," the referee stated. "I, Kuyo Basan of the 2nd Squad, will be forced to administer excessive measures if you go anything further." Suddenly, Jaice's laughtered stopped and he stepped back from Cren. He looked at the damage, then at his own body, then at Sangren, then at Kuyo, shrugged, rewrapped Sangren, and swung the zanpakuto across his back.
"Ok, thanks then," Jaice said. "Sorry about the trouble, I just was having fun. Call me for my next match." With that, Jaice left his section of the arena and headed to the medical tent.
Kuyo Basan whistled and a Hell Butterfly flapped towards her, landing on her finger. I'd better monitor Gandaime, he's a loose cannon. I'll report his actions to the authorities. I've never seen anyone act like that...
Ten minutes later, two medics from Squad Four arrived to treat Cren's wounds. He was unable to speak except for one word: monster.
Character Profile: Cren Fjorson
Age: Unknown (appears 20 in human years)
Height: 198.12 cm (6 feet 6 inches)
Affiliation: Member of the 5th Squad
Rank: 9th Seat
Hobbies: Reading, research, jewel-cutting/appraisal, watching films
Zanpakuto: Januseiz
Shikai: Cren can release Januseiz by saying, "Recall the past and distort the future!" The sword has two blades, Janu, a straight, serrated violet blade with a black sheen, and Seiz, a wavy blue-green blade. When slashed with Janu, a person recalls a series of memories, though most are usually painful in some way. When struck by Seiz, the target views a hypothetical future situation meant to confuse them. Cren utilizes both methods to distract and disorient his enemies while he strikes them repeatedly, an important skill given his lack of strength and speed. Cren reveals, however, that using these illusions costs reiatsu, with Janu absorbing more energy; thus, he often tries to end fights quickly so as to avoid a prolonged encounter which he would have difficulty winning.
