A/N: Hi there! Just wanna warn you that this chapter sucks and is angstsy as sh*t. Man, sorry for that XD

Chapter Fifteen: Burning Bridges

Personally, I couldn't tell as to what extent my affections and self-preservation had been fruitfully invested, but I could tell I had wasted both for nothing. Ichigo would speak to me no more except during instances when words between us fell short of avoidable; like when he'd volunteer to pick up Szayel from the brat's play-dates, or when we'd pass each other by on the narrow staircase. 'Excuse me' was the usual phrase he'd utter to me. As for me, I couldn't stand it anymore. The only outlet I had left were my afternoon training sessions and video games. Sure enough, it was easy to endure most of the hours I spent at school but, when night came, something very akin to loneliness would assail me—not to mention my body's almost constant craving for sex. Really, I could kill for it.

As of the moment, I found my feet carrying me to the team's headquarters, but not without due tension. Inside, Lisa was studying the playbook. But it wasn't her keen absorption for the material that struck me as peculiar; it was the bouquet of flowers on the table. I hadn't known she was the type who could attract admirers, as she was about as dazzling as Lucifer himself.

"Convenient. I was about to call for you." She started.

"That's sweet. But word's been going around town and I'm not liking it one bit. They say the Panthers are gonna be butchered by mere Tigers. Explain."

"Sit down, captain. Oh, before we start, this is for you." She prodded the flowers toward me with total disregard as to what this feminine token might have meant.

"From you?"

"From Mikasa's quarterback, Kira Izuru."

Well, it was the curse of those in possession of serious physical beauty that we were prone to receive surprises, sick and sweet. In this case, it was bizarre and nothing else. Nonetheless, I stared at the flowers long enough to gauge what insult it tendered. It was a bunch of lousy white orchids, particularly the ones you'd see on funerals and deathbeds. Accordingly, I had to scowl, my head reeling with images of Kira Izuru getting throttled by my bare hands.

"That bastard is 100% sure I'm dead because what?" I inquired angrily.

"Looks like you're not so daft after all, Grimmjow. In any case, the reason for your impending funeral is Edrad Liones, a rookie. Six feet and seven inches in height, two hundred and sixty-five pounds of pure muscle; why, you can run away while you still can." She spoke not like a concerned party but like a mocking villain.

"Who the fuck is that?"

"Mikasa's Center. They allegedly acquired him before the season commenced but he only started playing three games ago. Right from the start, he has posed a major threat but coach insisted it wouldn't be wise to impose unnecessary mental pressure on the team—on you, in particular. That's why coach and I have been keeping his existence from you until now."

"How splendid. So what makes you and everyone think a goddamned rookie is gonna crush me like a soda can? And why me, of all assholes?" I spat, despite knowing where this exchange was leading to. Suddenly, the words Ikkaku Madarame had spoken to me came ringing back to my ears.

Personally, I wouldn't wish what happened to me and Katakura-sempai last year to get repeated.

Over the years, I had seen hundreds of attempts to subdue players, particularly the quarterback, and in cases where the players were extremely talented, and therefore unstoppable, the so-called attempts would involve aggression which fell nothing short of an assassination. That was what had happened to Asuka Katakura and Madarame Ikkaku one year ago.

"What, you ask? Grimmjow, this kid can really be the reason for your impending hospitalization. Here's the video Madarame handed to you." Looking thoroughly uneasy now, she went on to fetch a laptop somewhere to show me something.

On the screen, a game between Mikasa and some other contender rolled on. It was not halfway through the match when this Liones dude managed to decimate the opposing team's lineup to half its number.

"This bastard has all the grace of a ramming bull! Is he even allowed to do that? Look at this son of a bitch smashing skulls one after another!" I gasped. Watching closely, I came to figure out that this dude, Edrad Liones, was ramming one lineman after another in order to get to the quarterback.

"You know more than I that specifically targeting a quarterback is a perfectly legitimate strategy. For your information, it will take two whole months for quarterback Findorr Calius to fully recover."

"That's maybe because Findorr is a freaking faggot. Hell, even you can maul that bitch to death." I intercepted just so to conceal the tension.

Lisa ignored me, continuing, "This scene was reiterated two more times, and in all cases the opposing teams were forced to forfeit before the second half commenced. The only quarterback that was spared the stretcher was Ginja Gakuen Eagles' Abirama Redder."

"The Eagles managed to protect that imbecile after all?" I asked, amused.

"Not really. Redder called it a day and forfeited bitterly before he could be harmed."

Is this what one may refer to as a Quarterback Killer?

I stared at the monitor, not really watching but only seeing blanks. My awareness of Edrad Liones's existence delivered a lurid sense of fear, the type which I could not dispel. Was my high school football life going to end because of this beast?

"You better start prescribing Gio Vega some performance enhancing drugs. If I get killed before the game ends, he's gonna be our only hope." I said, somewhat hoping our reserve quarterback would be adequate substitute for me if ever I got killed.

I winked at her and stood up to leave, whereby she pushed the stupid bouquet of flowers at me, in an obvious desire to blot it out of her sight. But she made a parting remark,

"Grimmjow, I'm sure you understand that without you… well, I believe there's no need to elaborate."

As of the moment, I had to endure unsolicited pieces of advice from Starrk, who proceeded,

"How about you get a really hot girl; you know, try to make him jealous, like insanely jealous. If that doesn't ensure him crawling back to you I don't know what will, man."

Because that suggestion, or what amounted to a suggestion, was as useless as a spent tampon, I didn't go about sparing him my irritation,

"Would you do that to Ulquiorra if you were in my situation?"

Starrk blushed and started to busy himself with the manga he was holding. Instantly, it became apparent that his answer for that was a flat 'No, I wouldn't do that to my fucking boyfriend because I love him to death'. From across Starrk, Ulquiorra was folding the newspaper he had been reading, looking neither embarrassed nor affected. I began to envy these two. There was no determining whether or not they had ever slept together, and yet it would've only taken a second of observation to deduce these two were happy. In love. This envy lay about unread, until Ulquiorra decided it was about time for one of us to start talking sensibly. He said,

"Talk to your brother and straighten this thing up. You can't screw up in the quarterfinals just because you're feeling emotionally unstable. If you were a reserve it wouldn't matter all that much. But you are quarterback and captain. This is your and Starrk's last shot at a championship ring."

And that was it.

Presently, I was taking a train to the next town, where Karakura Gakuen was situated. The trip took longer than expected, and by the time I alighted from the terminal, second thoughts were already filling in my head. After what must have been twenty turns on the wrong roads and alleys, the fucking school came into view. It was a decent campus but it wasn't much compared to the one I went to. To move on, I hung around the vicinity of the gate, trying with effort not to attract attention on my part. While at it, I would stare at the fucking ground, with my teal hair covered by a beanie and my eyes behind bogus reading glasses, in fear of recognition. I was looking like a damned hipster. My reputation, after all, extended up to here.

I soon made my way to the goddamned field, where I found the soccer dudes wrapping up their training session. Ichigo was looking swell in his jerseys and knee-length socks, and his physique was made more slender, and therefore attractive, by the mere fact that he was on a field. However, upon the sight of his teammates my determination started to wither, and even more so at Ginjo Kugo's entrance. What the fuck was he doing here anyway? But my question was answered right away when he approached my brother. Suddenly some compulsion was swaying me. The longer they chatted there, oblivious to my presence, the nearer I got to psychosis. I was all set up to rant audibly, but then I had enough sanity to tuck myself behind the bleachers and to idle around, unnoticed by the other students.

My silent wait seemed to stretch to fucking infinity. It looked like they had no plans to abandon the fucking field and that all they wanted was to stay like that for, like, fucking forever. In time, though, Ichigo swung his duffel bag over his shoulder. As opposed to his teammates who were proceeding to the dugout to shower, he advanced toward the other exit gate, replete with his sweaty training attire, whereby Kugo followed suit. And there ensued one of the stupidest stupidities I had ever pulled in my goddamned life; I followed suit. Spying on them like an inexperienced Peeping Tom, I went about ducking here and there, like a complete moron, until they reached Kugo's ride. Something was telling me I had now more reason than ever to stay hidden. Well, moving on, I was tucked behind a utility room, getting bored out of my mind, and one wrong move, one isolated sound, would give away my presence. I strained my ears—only to later on wish I hadn't.

"Sempai, catch ya later." I heard Ichigo tell Ginjo Kugo.

"Are you sure you don't want a lift?"

"I wish to take the subway—be alone."

I could hear them pretty well from where I was. There wasn't another student in sight on the parking lot, by the way, nor was there any other source of noise save them both. For them to part ways right at this moment would bring satisfaction to me, at least. But it seemed fate had no plans for that or for some other aspiration I might have been unwittingly fostering. Because…

Well, as abrupt as a fucking explosion, Kugo reached out for my stepbro's head, just in time when I decided to fucking take a careful peek at them. Because he excelled at being an asshole, he drew his face closer to Ichigo. Now, I had heard of people who were prone to committing shamelessness every so often, but this was just off the fucking scale. He kissed Ichigo. It lasted for a few seconds and, until the very end, I felt very much at risk of losing my damned sanity. Just what the hell was going on in Kugo's mind, pray tell? I bet it went like, I'm so fucking awesome I want to bed my awesome self. But because I can't fucking figure out how to do that, I will just fucking kiss whoever wherever I want to.

As for Ichigo, he could keep in mind he had just about signed Ginjo Kugo's death warrant.

What bewildered me most was the lack of resistance on my fucking stepbro's part. Yeah, maybe he simply could not have resisted, but why allow it in the first place?! There were so many people in the world to grant access to his fucking mouth and he chose this fucking fucker?! So while I was all too convinced I was justified to beat either of the two to a bloody pulp, I realized I could not act upon sentiment alone. There had to be some provocation, something more legit, something that would justify my actions if ever I succeeded in separating Kugo's head from his fucking neck…

This fucking hurt like hell. The feeling intensified even as Ichigo had finally taken his leave, his eyes avoidant and somewhat listless. Before long he was gone. Now with the obstruction gone, there appeared to be nothing in sight to stop me from knocking the living daylights out of Japan's best quarterback. And yet I held my temper in check. As if that wasn't difficult enough on its own, I had to try to at least stay put, wait in my stupid hiding place and for this fucking bastard to disappear. When he had gone, the world appeared to me a much bleaker place. No shit. Every thought, acceptable or otherwise, was simply way beyond my tolerance. I couldn't think straight. There was every reason to forget about stepbro now, to consign everything in the past; I did remember having said, "We're fucking over, brother"…

I reached out for my mobile phone. Since nothing in what had just happened had gone anywhere near my desired outcome, I might as well dial Sousuke's number, right smack in the middle of this shitty failure of an evening. The other line rang for a number of times before it got picked up. Hardly had a word of greeting reached my ear when I heard myself say,

"I've made up my mind. I wanna go to America… Dad."

TBC