"Twelve men, that's the surprise?" Grimmjow was still chained, in the washroom where they usually held him before a match. Cino was telling him about today's game. "So you're telling me I'm going to die today."
"No, Grimmjow. It's not you against the twelve, there will be twelve of you in total—every man for himself. Only one walks out, the slaves will turn on each other."
"Yeah, after they take me out first."
"There are two other volunteers participating."
"Okay, so they take me out first."
"That's up to you, Grimmjow. It's been a week, you've brought in more spectators than I could have imagined."
"And you've made such a fucking mint on me now you can afford to up the stakes."
"If I don't up the stake, people will get bored."
"Awesome," he growled out. Today two men held guns on him—they must have expected resistance.
"There will be weapons in the centre of the ring. I've made sure a sword was placed closest to where you will enter."
Grimmjow said nothing. He already had the advantage over the slaves by not being starved and beaten and living in cramped conditions. He hated to take any more advantage. But he'd hate to die more. Cino knew this. He knew Grimmjow a little too well for the espada's liking, and so he was able to control him.
"Put on a good show," he said like he always did before leaving Grimmjow. Shortly after he found himself in the ring, with eleven other poor bastards, all hurling themselves towards death as they ran for weapons.
Grimmjow killed one of the other volunteers first. He killed him the second after grabbing the sword. He slit his throat in one clean motion and took the small shield from the dead man's hand. This, he didn't hold onto, however, instead he smashed it back into the face of a man who'd tried to turn a mace against him, then he turned it on its side and threw it like a Frisbee, cutting across the face of another man aiming a crossbow at him. Then he bolted from the mess of bodies, knowing he was everyone's prime target.
He got enough space that he could assess the weapons in play. Someone else had grabbed the crossbow—that would be a problem as it was the only weapon he could see that could get him from a distance. He kept his eye on that player while surveying the others.
He quickly realized this match wasn't going to be as difficult as he thought.
Four were already dead, and he'd only killed one. The two he'd knocked down had been killed by others. He saw the other volunteer hack through the chest of a slave with an axe. Five were down, leaving six others.
Grimmjow went for the one with the crossbow first. He was aiming at someone else but turned at the last second to strike Grimmjow. He dodged, but barely and was put off balance by a hasty punch from his opponent. He cursed and spun into someone else. Reactively he shoved back and turned his blade against him.
He stopped just before cutting through the boy's throat. The kid couldn't have been more than fourteen. His wide eyes were full of fear and horror and he stood there frozen with both hands clutched around a blunt knife.
"Fuck." Grimmjow shoved him out of the way and returned to the man with the crossbow. He'd reloaded but Grimmjow gutted him before he had the chance to fire. Grimmjow in turn cut through the weapon so it would be of no further danger to himself.
He ran past the kid who was still standing where Grimmjow had shoved him and slide-tackled the other volunteer.
The man fell on his back and Grimmjow came down on him with the blade. It should have been flawless but he heard the boy cry out and fall to the ground under the blow of another slave. He lifted his eyes for just a second and it cost him the kill. Instead the blunt end of the axe connected with his calf and he ended up in the dirt with the volunteer. They scuffled back and forth on the ground, each losing hold of their weapons and it came down to hand-to-hand. That was fine with Grimmjow. He had no respect for any real volunteers and going hand-to-hand was like being back in the ring. He quickly gained the upper hand and got an elbow in the man's throat. It was all over after that and he got in position and broke his neck.
He retrieved his sword and turned back to see only one contestant left—the one who'd taken down the kid. He had a butcher's knife in one hand and the boy's blunt blade in the other.
Grimmjow went at him without mercy. He severed the hand holding the butcher's knife and came back around with a swing that cut clean through the man's neck.
The crowd went wild. Grimmjow caught his breath and flicked the blood from the blade, heart pounding as he surveyed the bodies.
But that heart beat suddenly stilled when he turned and saw the bloody boy struggling to sit.
"Shit..." the crowd went silent. Cino stood up and stuck out his hand.
"Fuck."
The thumb went down.
Grimmjow turned back to the boy who was holding his bleeding collar and staring transfixed at the single digit held out to declare his death. The wound at his neck drenched him in blood, but Grimmjow was pretty sure he could still survive if it was staunched. Slowly the boy turned back to him, eyes raking over the blade he knew would end his life.
He didn't beg. He didn't say anything. But he cried.
Grimmjow stood in the silence, only hearing those quiet sobs.
He dropped his sword in the dirt.
A murmur went through the crowd. Some people shouted in protest. Most did not. Most stood up to better witness the act of mercy from the man who killed for a living.
And some began to clap.
Grimmjow turned his back on Cino. He made it a step before the sniper fired, the bullet piercing the dry earth right before him. He came to a stop. The whole crowd went still again, watching their hero in his moment of peril. Cino's voice rang out over the megaphone.
"Only one leaves the arena alive."
Grimmjow turned back slowly. He glared at Cino far above, but the voice of the boy drew his attention back to earth.
"Please just do it." The boy was trembling but the tears were gone now, his resolve clear on his face. "Please just kill me. I don't...I can't do it anymore...the fear...that place. They've done things to me..." his voice threatened to break again but he swallowed hard and looked Grimmjow straight on. "If you don't do it, they'll shoot us both. I'm going to die either way. So please kill me. I'd rather it be you, and then you can live."
Grimmjow stared at him. His words were logical, but a feeling in Grimmjow he didn't recognize stopped him from picking up the sword.
"Ten," Cino's voice cracked over the megaphone. "Nine." When he got to zero they'd both be dead. "Eight."
"What's your name?" Grimmjow asked at five.
"Grayham."
"Four."
Grimmjow picked up his sword.
"Close your eyes, Grayham."
"Three". Tear-filled eyes shut.
"Two."
Grimmjow knelt behind the boy and raised the sword up to his neck.
"One."
Red hot blood washed over dry dirt. The teen fell limp, dead in one painless instant.
Grimmjow watched his body fall.
The megaphone went silent.
The crowd went silent.
Grimmjow put a hand over the boy's eyes and shut them. He stood. He looked at Cino. And he raised his middle finger.
And the crowd did the same.
Ichigo was with Soifon when Rukia and Nanao arrived to deliver their report.
"He wasn't there."
"What do you mean? All he wanted to do was register for that fight."
"I'm telling you, Ichigo, he wasn't in the fight, they didn't even announce him as one of the contestants." Rukia pulled off her cloak.
"I asked him not to..." Ichigo thought it over but he couldn't quite convince himself the espada would listen.
"Maybe he's on his way back here," Nanao suggested.
"Maybe..." Ichigo thought on it, then he remembered Grimmjow's deal with one of the fights in Morioka. That was most likely where he'd go again now, if for some reason he backed out of the fight up here. He explained this to Rukia and she mulled it over.
"It's possible he ran into some trouble and had to back out of the fights at the Market. Maybe Vandenreich? They're thick in these parts, so close to their territory and all."
"Yeah maybe." Though Ichigo didn't feel very convinced. "I'll go that way with you, we just came from there."
"Ichigo you just got here."
"Well, you need Grimmjow and you want my help, so this is the best way I can help you right now."
She looked to Soifon. The woman gave a short nod.
"Be back as soon as you can."
"Of course." Rukia gave a quick bow of respect—even in this new world the soul reapers respected their old ranks and formal ways. Then she took hold of Ichigo. "Come on, lets gear up and go."
"You perplex me."
Cino held Grimmjow's chin. They'd drugged him up enough he was having trouble focusing. His hands were chained at his back. He was on his knees before the desk in Cino's office, where the man now leaned and stared down on his prey.
"Someone once explained to me what a hollow is. A creature born of the darkness of the human soul. You certainly fit that description in the bare-knuckle rings. So why now? Why do you suddenly seem to have a conscience when I need you to be a ruthless killer?"
Grimmjow finally managed to meet his gaze.
"Honour."
"Bullshit," Cino barked out. "Pride. You have too much pride, Grimmjow, and if you were any other slave I'd beat it out of you. But I need you to fight. You will be punished properly for what you did when I come up with a suitable consequence. But for the moment I will have to settle with putting that pride of yours in check. You disobeyed me in the arena—you made me interfere, and worse, you got the crowd on your side when I am the one who should be in control. It's a system Grimmjow, with rules that must be kept in place. You pissed all over me, today, Grimmjow, so I think you deserve the same."
He undid his fly. Grimmjow tried to turn away but chained and sedated as he was he couldn't.
They dumped him back in his room afterward. Yuzu ran over to him as usual but he barked at her to stop. She covered he mouth in shock when she understood.
"Why did he do that to you?"
"Just get the fucking chains off." Yuzu kept the key to his chains. It was her job to undo them once he was in the room and to put them on before he left—that way the guards never had to fight with him and be at risk while he was uncuffed. She obeyed, the stench of urine thick on his clothes. He staggered up. She could tell he'd been given something and tried to help him but he held up his hand.
"Don't touch me."
He slammed the door to the bathroom. He was in the shower a long time.
He came out in fresh clothing, hair still sopping wet and dripping all down his shoulders. He was shaking. Yuzu stayed where she was, afraid of the look in his eyes.
He started with a chair. He hurled it across the room. Then he kicked the table, upsetting it and a tray from their last meal. He overturned the bed and heaved the mattress to one side and finished by slamming one fist into the wall, surely hurting himself more than the plaster.
Then he sank against it and slid until he was sitting on the ground, head in his hands, breath short and fast.
Yuzu stood in the center of the storm, the room torn apart around her. She watched his distress, as if he felt pain but didn't know where it came from.
She sat down beside him.
They remained like that for a long time. She hugged her knees as he did, his head eventually dropped forward onto them. When she sensed that the heat of anger had left him, she spoke.
"What happened today?"
"The same thing that happens every day," he muttered.
"No. Something worse happened."
He didn't speak for a long time but when he did, he drew his head up and turned to face her.
"I killed a boy, younger than you," he said it bluntly, as if he wanted to see her shock, her upset, her disgust. But she stared back at him with those open, familiar eyes that always seemed to look right through him. His hardness wavered. Then his words came out unmasked—no arrogance, no bullshit, just the truth. And he told her how it happened, what the boy said and how he killed him. And he waited for her speak, for her to condemn him, absolve him, scream at him, cry for him—but she did none of it. She just reached up and took his hand and held it tight in her own warm one. She leaned against his shoulder and whispered two words.
"I'm sorry."
He held that sad, perceptive gaze a long time before breaking away and dropping his head back into his knees.
"Just go to sleep."
She let him go but didn't move. Neither of them did, and that was how they fell asleep.
Ichigo and Rukia left the Market behind them. They'd done one last quick look at the fighting ring early in the morning but found no posters, no sign of Grimmjow's participation. They swept through the Market as quickly as they could for fear of Ichigo being recognized but by noon they were still too close for Rukia's comfort.
"Just keep your head down," she muttered when they passed a group on the highway.
"You sound like him." Ichigo was caught off guard by the all-too familiar tone in Rukia's voice. He thought he caught the hint of a blush in her cheeks when she scowled.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure you don't. I really have a hard time picturing you two together for a full two weeks. And him bedridden on top of it."
"Yes well, he wasn't exactly a pleasure to be around."
"So why did you save him?"
"Well, like I told him, I thought we were allies."
"And like he told you—he only ever joined us to survive."
"Exactly. That's the only reason he thinks he owes me. He was so pigheaded and stubborn."
"Yeah, not like you at all."
She shot him a look but couldn't help that a smile broke over her face and she laughed. He did too.
"You know, I really did miss you, Ichigo."
"Miss sleeping in my closet?"
"Well, maybe not that. But your hair, I miss."
"And I miss you being a pipsqueak."
Rukia punched his arm in pretend offence but her laugh cut off abruptly. She drew her hand back from Ichigo's arm and reached for a piece of paper pinned to a tree before them.
"Rukia?" but the moment he followed her gaze he felt the same bone chilling realization.
"Don't tell me..."
But she held out the paper and it was plain as day to see, the drawn image of Grimmjow's chiselled jawline and the headline: Grimmjow Jaggerjaques at Cino Mocabre's Gladiator Arena.
"No way. He'd never sign up for the glads."
"I doubt they gave him a choice." Rukia pocketed the pamphlet. "We should go back and report this to captain Soifon."
"You go ahead but if that's where he is I'm going straight there."
"Ichigo it's too dangerous for you."
"Rukia the base is three hours back that way. He could be dead by then if he's not already. We have to go now."
She looked about to argue but then nodded. "Yeah, okay. Let's go."
An action-packed chapter coming up next! Much excitement! And if you are super frustrated that Yuzu still hasn't said who she is-Junichi hit the nail on the head-she's protecting herself by not saying, so I'm not just being cruel (well, not completely, hehe). Until next time!
Riza