Author's Note:
This Sunday, a gunman marched into Pulse, a popular gay nightclub in Orlando, Florida, and opened fire. Forty-nine dead, fifty-three wounded. All because the gunman was offended by seeing two guys kissing. Last week, Brock Turner, a Stanford student convicted of three counts of felony sexual assault, was given only six months of jail time because longer "might have a serious impact" on his life. His father said that it wasn't fair that "twenty minutes of action" should determine the rest of his life. Tragedy piles on top of tragedy, and my heart is breaking.
These events have sent shockwaves through the queer community, and none of us know what to do. There really aren't any words to describe the mixture of sorrow, rage, and loss that we're feeling. When I see the text messages from one of the Pulse victims or reread the letter from the unnamed girl in the Stanford case, I want to cry; the whole community feels like it's balanced on a knife edge between fury and sadness. We want to do something, but it feels like there's nothing to be done that will change anything. Many of us are numb, for if we let the storm in, it'll consume us. I've channeled those feelings into my writing, so I apologize that this chapter is darker than usual. I hope you all still enjoy it.
This chapter is dedicated to the victims of the Pulse shooting and the unnamed victim in the Stanford case.
Chapter 8: Perfect Storm
Silence.
Darkness.
Coarse sand under his paws; moonlight caressing his skin.
The scent of death hanging in the still air.
All around him, hollows dozed, sated by their most recent meal. A few bloodstains still lingered around their muzzles, but the desert had already absorbed the few drops that had spilled. Gleaming white bones, stripped of flesh, glistened under the sliver of crescent moon hanging low in the sky. They had fed well that hunt.
Grimmjow prowled along the top of the sand dune, tail flicking idly behind him as he paced. Powerful muscles bunched and stretched, moving like a well-oiled machine under his armor. Ready to pounce on any enemy that drew near.
Not that he feared any denizens of the desert. His pack was strong, and roamed where they choose, unopposed by lesser hollows. Almost no one would attempt to challenge a group of adjuchas, and the bones of the few who dared were left as silent monuments to their folly. Their hunts were becoming laughably easy as they grew stronger, prowling across the desert in search of yet more powerful hollows to devour.
And that was how it should be. Grimmjow stretched his forelegs in front of him, arching his spine as he dug his front claws into the sand. I am a King, and soon everyone will bow down to me.
Finishing his stretch, he curled his paws underneath him and settled down into the sand. It shifted to accommodate his body, still slightly warm from the recent explosions of reiatsu, and he purred. The air tasted of blood and charred flesh, mingled with the distinctive redolence of furious, terrified spirit energy – signs of a successful hunt. It wouldn't be long before he could teach his cubs to savor the delicious blend of flavors; they were almost old enough to leave the den.
The thought made him purr harder. He would enjoy the chance to bring them on their first hunt, and he knew his mate would as well. She was growing tired of the perpetual confinement in the den. Unfortunately, it was necessary for one parent to remain with the cubs until they were old enough to protect themselves – hollow cubs were tasty treats for older menos. If any hollow dared to lay a claw on his cubs, Grimmjow would tear them to shreds, but that wouldn't bring the cubs back. So his mate watched over them while he hunted with his pack, keeping the area around the den free of danger while bringing the best kills back to his family.
Soon, though, they'd be able to join the pack for their first hunt. Grimmjow already had the perfect target picked out – an older hollow, not menos-class, who was beginning to lose his strength. If he proved too strong, Grimmjow or his mate could step in, but Grimmjow was confident that his litter of three would be able to take the hollow down. It would be a good introduction to the vicious world of Hueco Mundo, where only the strong survived.
Still thinking of his cubs, Grimmjow expanded his pesquisa, scanning the desert for any foreign spiritual pressures. His pack resonated strongly in his mind, but he pushed his awareness of them away. Brushing against the sleeping minds of his mate and litter, he smiled; they felt happy and healthy, snug in their hidden den. He lingered there for a moment, purr rumbling through his chest, before moving on.
As expected, the sands for miles around were deserted. He let his eyes slide shut, though he kept his pesquisa extended – if anything came near, he would have ample warning. But Hueco Mundo was unusually quiet tonight; surely it was safe to take a short–
Hide!
Grimmjow bolted upright, claws fully extended as he leapt to his feet. The wordless reiatsu blast, laden with terror and a desperate command to hide, thrummed through his body. The signature was unmistakable – his mate was in trouble.
As his pack roused, he sent an answering blast of reiatsu at the sky. Hold on, I'm coming! Azure light exploded around him as he raced for the den, moving faster in sonido than he'd ever moved before.
Shadows raced alongside him as he sprinted through the darkness. Dunes flickered by underneath his paws, vanishing almost before he pushed off of them, but the remaining distance stretched out to infinity in front of him. Each leap that should have taken him closer to his family only revealed another row of dunes. No!
Another terrified blast of emerald reiatsu split the air. Fear and anguish mingled in equal measure as his mate ordered their cubs to run for their lives. Desperation lay underneath the fear – the enemy must have found the den. Grimmjow extended his stride.
A third reiatsu blast shook the air, and his heart stuttered to a stop. His body kept leaping from dune to dune as his mind shrieked in horror, unwilling to accept the weary resignation that had accompanied the agony in that final explosion. Was it his imagination, or could he smell the blood-scent on the air?
No, dammit, no! An inarticulate howl of rage burst from his throat as he poured every drop of reiatsu he possessed into moving just a hair faster. No!
Had he not had his pesquisa fully active, he wouldn't have felt the fainter reiatsu explosions that followed.
Scianna.
Elkan.
Kior.
All dead.
Crimson haze descended over his vision, propelling him forward as his mind buried his despair in a desperate thirst for the blood of the monster who had murdered his family. No time for thought, just action. If he paused for even a second, black despair would swallow him whole, so he didn't pause.
He burst out of the dunes onto a scene of carnage. Crimson blood splattered everywhere, near-black in the moonlight. His mate's body lay eviscerated in front of the den, flesh caught in her claws – she had gone down fighting. Her entrails spilled out of her abdomen like obscene snakes, glistening in the dim light.
Behind her lay the kits.
Scianna, feline body torn nearly in half, still whimpered feebly as she scrabbled against the sand. As Grimmjow skidded to a halt, appalled by the amount of blood covering her tiny body, she sighed one last time and fell still.
She had been the oldest of the litter, always eager to explore the world. Time and time again, Grimmjow had caught her trying to escape the den, heedless of the danger of the desert outside. She would always apologize when he dragged her back inside, giving him a sweetly pleading look with her big blue eyes, and he could never punish her the way he should have.
Now, those big blue eyes stared glassily at nothing.
Elkan and Kior lay tangled together, so thoroughly splashed with gore that he couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. Elkan had been the sensible one, always listening to his parents, while Kior had followed Scianna into all sorts of trouble.
Grimmjow's throat tightened. How could this happen? How had he failed so badly? His world had narrowed to the bloodstained sands and limp bodies strewn about like rag dolls in a macabre parody of life. Traces of their reiatsu still lingered about their bodies. Grimmjow snarled brokenly. Sorrow battled with rage as he swayed back and forth, gazing blindly at the carnage that had ripped his world apart.
Someone was screaming.
It took him a while to realize that it was him.
Blink.
Aizen was there, hands spread wide as he gave Grimmjow the same insufferable smile that the feline hollow had always hated. He looked like he was wearing gloves until he extended his hand and Grimmjow realized that it was plastered with a smooth coating of blood.
Blink.
That bloodstained hand wrapped around his throat, squeezing until darkness swam in front of his eyes. He let it. What was there to live for now that his family was dead? It was his fault, all his fault.
Despair sapped the strength from his limbs, leaving him numb as the fingers clenched tighter and tighter.
Blink.
Fiery agony surged up and down his limbs, melting them and reshaping them as though he was a figurine in the hands of a mad sculptor. Unbearable pain seared through his nerve endings, making him scream and scream and scream.
Blink.
Blink.
Blink.
Darkness again. This time, darkness was accompanied by softness underneath him and an irritated voice in his ears. His nerves still hummed with remembered agony, but the pain had receded to a dull ache, localized in his shoulder and abdomen. All in all, far preferable.
The voice was speaking again. Grimmjow did his best to focus on it – it was saying something about making someone worry. I know that voice.
With recognition, memory flooded back, and Grimmjow groaned silently. Dammit, I really fucked up this time, didn't I? He shivered. For a moment, he'd truly thought that he was back in Hueco Mundo, running under a crescent moon with his pack. But no. They, like everyone else he'd known in the desert, were dead. Sorrow swept over him once again, clogging his throat and leaving him unable to speak. He fought to push it away, but the expertise derived from long years of practice seemed to have deserted him.
Then Ichigo muttered, "I swear, when you wake up, I'm going to kick some sense into you."
His eyelids felt like they had been weighted down with boulders, but he dragged them open anyway – that was too good of a line to ignore. "Kinky, Kurosaki… Didn't you say you're supposed to ask first?"
Ichigo blinked. Then blinked again. "You… you…" he managed, unable to come up with anything coherent to say. Grimmjow's weakly teasing expression didn't change. "Gaaahhh!"
Grimmjow snorted. "What's up, Kurosaki? You look like you've seen a ghost." His voice was regaining strength by the minute, though his skin was still an unhealthy pasty gray.
"If you didn't look like crap, I'd punch you right now," Ichigo muttered. "You wake up and the first thing you say is a joke?" He'd clearly been worrying over nothing, if that was how the espada responded to seizures.
Grimmjow's eyelids drooped, and he gave Ichigo a pale imitation of his normal playful grin. "Well, what would you want me to say?"
Ichigo took a closer look at him, furrowing his brow. The dead-fish color of his skin did nothing to conceal the dark shadows under his eyes, but that was expected. The darkness lurking within those eyes, on the other hand, was not. And, though his tone was a good approximation of his usual mocking self, it was a few shades off. Hints of wild, unidentifiable emotions flavored his reiatsu, as well. Ichigo frowned. "You alright?" he asked softly, laying a hand on the espada's shoulder.
Grimmjow's eyes slid closed for a moment. When he reopened them, he plastered an obviously false smile on his lips, and purred, "Never better, darling."
King, if you believe him, you're as dumb as you look, Ichigo's hollow snorted.
For once, Ichigo was inclined to agree with the creature, which was the only reason he didn't snap at Grimmjow for calling him darling. Instead, keeping his hand where it was, he asked again, "You sure? You don't look so good."
Grimmjow shrugged awkwardly, hissing as the movement pulled at his shoulder wound. "This damn shoulder is a bitch and a half, but other than that…" He trailed off, lifting his uninjured shoulder in a noncommittal gesture.
Ichigo threw up his hands in disgust. "Is it seriously that hard to admit something's wrong?"
Pot calling the kettle black much? his hollow snickered. You're not so good at that either, hotshot. When was the last time you voluntarily asked for help with anything?
Since Ichigo had no good response for that, he ignored it. His hollow laughed at him, while Grimmjow scowled. "Hey, I'm admitting that my shoulder hurts, aren't I?"
"Grimmjow…" Ichigo sighed, unsure why he was pressing the point but determined to help the former sexta. "You sure that's it?" The uneasy touches of sorrow in his reiatsu, touched with smoky desperation, hinted at much deeper, albeit invisible, wounds.
Grimmjow sighed and shuffled around on the mattress so his head rested against Ichigo's leg. Unlike his previous touches, the gesture held no hint of flirtation or sexual desire. "It's…" he began, shoulders hunched. Then he paused and exhaled heavily. "It was a long time ago," he muttered. "It's nothing."
Ichigo bit his lip and tentatively reached down to run his fingers through Grimmjow's hair in a silent attempt to offer comfort. A low rumbling noise started to emanate from the espada's chest, startling Ichigo into a laugh. "Are you… purring?"
"Shut up, Kurosaki," Grimmjow grumbled, but he didn't pull away.
The corners of Ichigo's mouth twitched, and he kept petting the feline espada. He'd never been good with emotions, but he hated to see friends in pain, and somehow Grimmjow had evolved from being a mortal enemy to something approximating a friend. Ichigo wasn't sure how that had happened, though the battle that afternoon must have had something to do with it. He shrugged. I guess there have been weirder friendships, though this is pretty damn weird. To his surprise, that didn't bother him at all.
Grimmjow's unusual silence, on the other hand, bothered him quite a bit. "Let's call Orihime tomorrow and get you healed," he suggested. The physical injuries were only part of the issue, but they, at least, were easy to fix.
Grimmjow opened one eye to stare at him, then shrugged. "Sure, if you think she'd be okay with it. She didn't seem too happy to see me, but she didn't freak out either."
Ichigo smiled ruefully. "Yeah, I think I was worried for nothing. She's a pretty remarkable girl." And maybe she'll be able to figure out what's really bothering you. Her intuition about people was uncanny.
Grimmjow sighed and curled up closer to Ichigo. "Well, good." His eyes fell shut again, and the rumbling purr increased in volume. Ichigo leaned back against the wall, continuing to run his fingers through the espada's cerulean hair as the uneasy ripples in his reiatsu smoothed out. In the dark, it was easy to forget that they had once been deadly enemies, sworn to kill each other or die trying. It's almost… peaceful.
The jangling ring of his cell phone shattered that feeling beyond recovery. Ichigo grabbed it off of its charger and frowned. "Hat and Clogs, now isn't…" he began.
"You might want to turn on the news," Urahara interrupted, smooth voice overlaid with a hint of tension. "There's something you'll want to see."
Ichigo scowled. "Can you be more specific?" The grating beep of a dial tone answered him. Tossing the phone onto his bed, Ichigo snarled, "Dammit! Would it kill him to answer a few questions for once?" He knew he was overreacting, but he had truly been hoping to get through the night without any more crises.
Grimmjow lifted an eyebrow. "What did he want?" All traces of sleepiness vanished from the espada's manner as he sat up and propped his hands on his hips.
Ichigo's shoulders slumped, and he sighed in resignation. "Apparently there's something going on in the news that we need to see." He rolled his eyes. "Come on, the tv's downstairs. Keep quiet, we don't want to wake my family."
The house felt practically deserted as they tiptoed down the stairs and into the living room. Unwilling to turn the lights on, Ichigo ran his hands over the coffee table until he located the remote. I really hope the volume isn't turned up too loud. Taking a deep breath, he poked the power button, then hastily jabbed at the mute button. The screen filled with the image of a golden perfume bottle. "I'm guessing that's not what we're looking for," Grimmjow drawled, sprawling onto the couch.
Ichigo nudged his leg out of the way and sat, pushing away his sudden awareness of the espada's proximity. For some reason, it felt different now. "No, and be quiet," he whispered, thumbing through the channels until he found the local news station. The headline at the bottom of the screen read 'Breaking News: Assault at University of Tokyo.'
"I don't see why this is important," Grimmjow muttered, slouching further into the cushions. One hand drifted up to rub his injured shoulder, and he grimaced.
Ichigo shrugged. "I don't know, either… I wish I could remember how to turn on the subtitles; this isn't very informative." Grimmjow snorted softly, and Ichigo glanced at him awkwardly. "Or… I guess that wouldn't help you much, would it? Maybe I can put the sound on really low…"
When Grimmjow nodded his approval of that plan, Ichigo cautiously flipped the volume back on, in time to hear the anchor say, "Alright, folks; we've just received new information about the assault that took place at Todai earlier this evening. For those of you just joining us, the attack took place approximately one hour ago on the outskirts of the Kyu-Iwasaki-tei gardens. Witnesses report seeing a large man attacking university student Rentaro Onoe before fleeing the scene; an unconscious girl was discovered in the bushes nearby. Police have declined to release her identity, citing concerns about an ongoing investigation. However, they have just informed us that they have new information to share. Superintendent Shimizu?"
The screen split to reveal a weary, middle-aged man in the uniform of the Tokyo police. Scrubbing a hand over his brow, he nodded to the anchor. "Thanks, Takatsuna-san. While Onoe-san has not woken, hospital staff say that he is out of danger. He bears four large gashes on both shoulders, which resemble claw marks according to the doctors in attendance. This raises questions about the weapon or weapons used by his unknown assailant, as the injuries are clearly not caused by a knife."
"Would you care to speculate about the kind of weapons that might have caused them?" the anchor asked, smiling cheerfully at the police officer.
He heaved a sigh. "At the time, we have no credible ideas. One witness reports seeing claws growing out of the man's hands, while two others arrived on the scene too late to get a look at the suspect. Due to the darkness and the speed at which the incident took place, that lack of information is no surprise." Glancing down at his notes, he scowled. For a moment, it looked like he was going to say more, but, with a shake of his head, he shut his mouth again.
"What about the video footage that the police department released?" the anchor asked. Turning to face the audience, he explained, "A security camera across the street from the incident recorded this video around the time of the assault." As he spoke, the policeman's face was replaced by a grainy video. For the first few seconds of the clip, nothing moved in the deserted street. Then a hulking figure hurtled out of nowhere, dragging a muscular young man with him. The attacker smashed the student into the ground, pinning him to the sidewalk by his shoulders and getting into his face. The low resolution made it difficult to make out what was happening, but Ichigo thought that he could see a puddle of blood spreading out from beneath the victim. Then the attacker glanced to the side, released his victim, and sprinted away.
The video dissolved, returning the shot of the anchor and police superintendent to full screen, and the officer sighed. "As you can see, the video never shows the suspect's face. None of the three witnesses could provide a description, either."
The anchor lifted an eyebrow. "How can that be possible? We've heard from a confidential source that the police department has a witness who saw the whole thing." He spread his hands invitingly, urging the superintendent to say more.
"I…" the officer began, a harried look in his eyes. "I'm… not sure I can comment on that."
"So what good are you?" Grimmjow muttered, shifting restlessly. Ichigo brushed a hand over his knee and he settled down, inching slightly closer to the suddenly overheated teen. Yeah, something's definitely different now.
Signals must have been exchanged off-camera, for the anchor didn't say anything for a few long moments, while the officer glanced down at his notes. Finally he sighed. "Alright, here's what I'm allowed to say. One witness claims that he saw Onoe-san 'humping the girl, moaning and groping at her. She wasn't moving; I think she was half naked. Then this giant guy came out of nowhere and ripped him off her, started growling at him like he was some sort of animal. I swear, he sounded like a monster! He was in some sorta costume too; he had a muzzle and these giant claws instead of fingers. Then a couple guys came running and he took off. Vanished into thin air.'" As the superintendent spoke, a transcript of the witness's words appeared on the screen in place of the anchor's face.
The speech concluded, and the anchor gave the officer a forced smile. "I see what you mean; that sounds pretty far-fetched." He laughed lightly. "Do we have a magical monster stalking the streets of Tokyo now?" Actually, yes, Ichigo thought to himself, but they're not who you're looking for.
The officer rolled his eyes, placing his palms flat against the desk in front of him. "No, we don't. This is a simple assault case, nothing more." Despite an obvious attempt to keep his tone polite, irritation snuck in. Ichigo couldn't blame him – unless he knew anything about the spirit world, such a question would seem absurd and counterproductive.
"What about the witness's claim about Onoe-san? Initial police reports did say that sexual assault was a possibility." A hint of apology had entered the anchor's tone.
Lines deepened in the police officer's face, making him look ten years older. "We're investigating all possibilities. The girl has been taken to the hospital, and has not awoken; she appears to be under the influence of drugs or alcohol. However, I cannot comment further." He turned to face the camera directly, making it look like he was staring straight at the viewers. "If you have any information about this incident, please contact the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department." That said, he pressed his lips firmly together, shifting as though about to rise from his chair.
"Alright then. Thank you, Superintendent Shimizu, for your commentary. We'll be back after this break with more breaking news coverage."
As the screen faded into a car commercial, Ichigo hit the mute button and turned to Grimmjow. "Alright, any idea why Hat and Clogs wanted us to see this?" It sounded like a tragedy, but it had nothing to do with them. It wasn't even in the same ward; the University of Tokyo was halfway across the city from Karakura Town. Probably just some wacko on drugs who thinks he's Wolverine, or something. He frowned. Though it did sound like he might have been protecting the unnamed girl…
Grimmjow ran a hand through his hair, leaving it in messy spikes. "That video…" he began, staring fixedly at the screen. "Can you play it again?"
Ichigo shook his head. "It's not recorded, so no. I might be able to find it online, though, if the news station published it on their website."
"Website?" Grimmjow asked, wrinkling his brow.
"Yeah, you know, a site on the Internet?" Ichigo replied. Grimmjow's expression didn't change, though a hint of suspicion entered his azure eyes. "It's, well, it's a thing you can look at that holds information…" Ichigo started, before realizing that any explanation would be meaningless. "Here, let me show you." He reached for his phone, remembered that he'd left it on his bed, and rolled his eyes. "I'll be right back."
When he returned, Grimmjow was turning the remote over in his hands, muttering to himself. He'd somehow managed to access the settings menu, which had filled the screen with stark black-and-white menu options as the cursor blinked insistently. "What did you…" Grimmjow scowled, and Ichigo sighed. "Never mind." Rescuing the remote from the espada, he jabbed the power button, then tossed it onto the coffee table. "Here, this is what I mean when I say website." Holding up his smartphone, he navigated to the internet, then to the news channel's site. Grimmjow scooted closer and unselfconsciously leaned against his shoulder. Fighting back a blush, he explained, "The internet is kinda like a giant library, except that it's all accessible through stuff like phones and computers. I don't know much about how it works-" Make that nothing about how it works… "-but I know it's really useful. Anyone can make a website and put information on it, though, so you can't believe everything you read online."
Grimmjow sighed, letting his head fall onto Ichigo's shoulder. "So, does it have the video?"
Ichigo scrolled through the site, searching for the breaking news tab. The mobile version of the website was a bit too full of ads, but he was able to pull up the video without too much trouble. "Yep. Here." The caption read 'Suspect in Todai assault caught on tape.'
He held out the phone, thinking that Grimmjow would take it, but the espada simply wrapped his hand around Ichigo's and pulled the phone closer to him. "How do you make it play?"
The espada's fingers were warm where they pressed against his. He wouldn't have expected it to affect him, but his skin felt overheated everywhere it made contact with Grimmjow's body. Considering their current positions, that was quite a lot of skin. Doing his best to ignore it, Ichigo muttered, "Um, just press the play button – the triangle one."
"I know what a play button looks like," Grimmjow grumbled, though his tone held no real offense.
Ichigo frowned. "How do you know that, but not know what the internet is?" For that matter, how did he know what video was?
"Szayelaporro," Grimmjow replied shortly. When he didn't say anything more, Ichigo gave him an inquiring look, and he sighed. "He set up cameras all throughout Las Noches. It was awful – you couldn't do anything without him spying on you, and he liked to show the 'best' moments to Aizen." He grimaced, and his fingers tightened around the phone. "Which he'd then show to the entire arrancar corps as an object lesson." His fingers clenched even tighter, and Ichigo flinched involuntarily. Grimmjow huffed and relaxed.
Well, that answers that question. For all of Szayel's vaunted technological expertise, Ichigo suspected that the octava espada hadn't had the faintest clue about the world wide web. Cameras, on the other hand, were relatively simple and quite useful. Ichigo wasn't surprised that Aizen had bugged his entire fortress, though he winced to imagine a life under constant surveillance. No wonder so many of them were insane. If they hadn't been crazy when Aizen transformed them, the unrelenting supervision would have driven them there.
As Ichigo searched for something to say that wouldn't sound trite or patronizing, Grimmjow snorted. "I'm over it, okay? Just watch the damn video." He stabbed a finger at the screen with more force than necessary, and the video jolted into motion.
When the twenty-second clip concluded, Ichigo heaved a sigh. "I still don't get it. Why is this important?" The video was far too blurry and grainy to make out any details that might have been useful.
Grimmjow snorted. "Because I don't think that's a human." He reset the video to a point in the middle, where the large man was crouching over his victim, and pressed play. "Look. He moves too quickly to be mortal. Plus, look at the way the light bounces off his head and shoulders – that looks like bone to me."
"He could just be a runner," Ichigo replied dubiously. "Since when can cameras capture images of hollows?" If humans couldn't see them, why would their technology be any better?
"Cameras clearly recorded us in Las Noches," Grimmjow replied acerbically.
"Yeah, but…" Ichigo began, before pausing. If they worked in Hueco Mundo, why wouldn't they work here? Unless Szayel was using a different kind of camera… "Okay, fine," he muttered. "Let's ask Urahara. He was the one who sent us on this wild goose chase, after all."
"Of course hollows can show up on film," Urahara told them, sounding wide awake despite the late hour. "They're physical creatures, after all." Through the phone speakers, his voice had a tinny quality to it, but it still managed to convey a sense of gentle superiority.
Grimmjow bristled at the tone. "So that video really does show a hollow?"
"Very good," Urahara replied smoothly.
Before he could continue, Ichigo interrupted, "Wait, I don't get it. How's that possible?"
"They're physical," Urahara repeated, still in that maddeningly smooth voice.
"Hat and Clogs, it's nearly 2 in the morning. I don't have time for this bullshit!" Ichigo snarled back, fed up with the way Urahara constantly dodged around questions he didn't want to answer. If he gives me one more line about 'need to know' or anything like that, I swear I'll… I'll… He couldn't come up with a good threat, but he suspected that his tone had conveyed the general sentiment.
A sigh echoed through the speakers. "Ichigo, do you recall the lessons you've learned in physics? Light bounces off of solid objects; that's why you see them. You've seen hollows smash through buildings and leave footprints in the ground – if they can do that, they must be solid, which means that light interacts with them just like it interacts with every other object." He paused briefly. "Of course, that's a major oversimplification, but it works for now."
Ichigo gritted his teeth. "So why can't…" he began.
"Everyone see hollows?" Urahara completed. "Good question." Both Ichigo and Grimmjow growled at his condescension, but he ignored them. "Hollows project a kind of field, if you will, that confuses the human mind into believing that there's nothing there. The light still hits the retina, but the brain refuses to interpret the signals. Any amount of spiritual pressure automatically overrides this field, which is why humans with even marginal reiatsu can see hollows to some extent. Does that make sense?"
Ichigo had to admit that it did. "Thanks," he replied grudgingly, leaning back against the couch cushions. Grimmjow relaxed as well, slinging his arm over the back of the couch a millimeter away from Ichigo's shoulders. Go on, lean back a bit further, Ichigo's hollow urged. You know you want to.
You just shut up, Ichigo snapped back. He resolutely turned his attention back to Urahara in time to catch the scientist's last few words. "…happy to help. Now, was that your only question?"
"I've got one," Grimmjow muttered. "Why'd you tell us to watch this? Yeah, it's a hollow… so what?"
Urahara shouldn't have been able to hear him, but he replied anyway. "That's what I'd like you to figure out. Why did this hollow attack a human, then run? Who is he, and what does he – or she – want?" A hint of a smile entered his voice. "Think on it, and tell me your theories tomorrow."
Apparently that was his idea of a goodbye, for the phone screen lit up as the call ended. Ichigo snarled at it. "Damn it, can't he ever be straightforward?" This doling out information in bits and pieces is really getting old.
Grimmjow shrugged, an amused smile playing about his lips. His arm slipped down a fraction, and Ichigo inhaled sharply as Grimmjow's hand curled around his shoulder. "Probably not." His tone turned sober. "But he asked a good question… why would a hollow – almost certainly an arrancar – do something like this?"
It wasn't a question either of them could answer.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Kinderras hissed, uncoiling his tail with a snap and lunging towards Marrok.
He pulled up short when the ursine arrancar refused to step backwards. "I was doing what I thought was right," he replied calmly. When Kinderras didn't advance further, he relaxed his stance. "As it had no effect on you, I see no reason why you should care." Settling onto the edge of the rooftop on which the trio perched, he turned to stare out at the darkened city.
Kinderras bared his teeth, reiatsu rising in anger. "And what if you'd been seen?" A dark drop of poison slid down one fang and fell onto his scales with a sizzling sound; he ignored it.
Marrok shrugged. "I wasn't." When Kinderras twitched his tail in frustration, Marrok added, "The human male had no reiatsu to speak of, and the girl was already unconscious. Besides, why would it matter if a human saw me?" He returned to his study of the skyline, ignoring Kinderras's livid hiss.
"You'd risk our mission for a mewling human girl?" the furious arrancar snarled, grabbing Marrok's shoulder and spinning him around. "Have a couple days in the living world made you that soft?" His fingers tightened cruelly.
Marrok inhaled slowly. "Your mission remains unharmed," he told Kinderras, staring directly into the smaller arrancar's scarlet eyes without a trace of fear or pain. Reaching across with his opposite hand, he pried Kinderras's fingers free from his shoulder and applied pressure to his wrist. The serpentine hollow winced, and Marrok released him. "There is no reason to worry."
Kinderras flexed his fingers and sneered. "Yeah? This place is a hotbed of shinigami and those damn vizards… what if one of them had seen you because you decided to…" He rolled his eyes. "I don't know, play the hero? We're supposed to be keeping a low profile till we grab him, remember?"
"They didn't," Marrok said, shrugging again.
"That's not good enough!"
Marrok turned back to the city, turning his back on Kinderras. "Why not?" His tone remained level, as did his reiatsu, though Arietta's spiritual pressure had begun to rise in response to Kinderras's obvious fury.
"Because… because…" Kinderras spluttered. "Because you could have gotten all of us killed!"
"He could have gotten you killed, you mean," Arietta drawled, strolling over to the duo. "Don't pretend you care about either of us." Kinderras turned his snarl on her, making her wings stiffen, but she didn't back down. One hand was clenched tight around a scrap of ribbon, while the other rested on her hip, only an inch away from the hilt of her scimitar.
Kinderras snorted in disgust and pulled his fangs back in. "You two are both hopeless." When neither responded, he sighed. "I'm going hunting; I expect you both to be here when I get back." It was a pointless power play, and all three arrancar knew it – they could easily find each other again if they got separated. But Arietta nodded sulkily and Marrok murmured an affirmative; neither were willing to challenge Kinderras to his face. Satisfied with their submission, he launched himself into the sky.
Once she was sure that he was out of earshot, Arietta dropped down into a cross-legged seat next to Marrok. "Windbag," she muttered. When Marrok didn't reply, she nudged him with her shoulder. "So, why'd you do it?"
Marrok exhaled heavily. "The girl was just a cub," he explained. "The sour stench of fear surrounded her, along with the scent of tainted blood. I couldn't just leave her there, at the mercy of that male." His nose wrinkled like he smelled something foul as he said the last word.
"She's just a human," Arietta pointed out in a bewildered tone.
"True," Marrok agreed. "But she was a cub nonetheless. Cubs are not fair prey."
Arietta stroked the tattered ribbon in her hand, expression pensive. "Maybe not," she murmured, brow wrinkling into a frown. Under her fingers, the moon turned the golden ribbon into liquid silver. "She always said that, too..."
If Marrok hadn't had keen ears even for an arrancar, he wouldn't have been able to hear the last sentence. He didn't know who Arietta was referring to, and he didn't ask. Instead, he sighed. "Shinigami call us monsters," he remarked, shuttering his eyes as a car chugged on by down below. "I wonder if they know how monstrous humans can be. We kill to survive and to protect our pack; they hurt each other for sport. Their actions are pointless, yet they continue to do them." He wrinkled his muzzle underneath his mask. "They don't even protect their own cubs."
Arietta snickered. "Yeah, well, they're idiots. Shinigami are no better – hidebound, arrogant freaks who can't see beyond the end of their own nose." Unfurling her wings, she stretched languidly. Silver moonlight glinted off of her hair as she tossed her head, running her tongue over her lips. "Anyway, I'm bored; I'm going out hunting. If hissy face gets mad about it, tell him he can suck his own tail." Before Marrok could respond, she launched herself at the sky, and vanished. Marrok sighed in resignation and turned back once again to the city. With both of his companions gone, he might finally get some peace and quiet.
Beneath him, the city continued to sleep.