Chapter 2: The Beginning

Grimmjow woke slowly, disbelieving that he was still alive. When he was fully aware he snapped his eyes open and bolted upright, eyes frantically searching about. He was still in the forest. The rotting body of the Undead was still where it fell, lying in a mess of blood and gore, as was he. He was almost covered from head to toe with it. The smell of it finally hit his nose making him scrunch it up and pull his mouth down in a grimace. He pulled his legs under him to stand; a hand on a tree to keep him steady but it wasn't until he saw mangled flesh and crushed bones, with a trail of browned blood leading to him, that he remembered that he was supposed to be missing a leg. That pile of mush was his leg, yet here he was standing on two. Had he imagined it? He couldn't have. The evidence was right there and the memory of how it happened made him shudder. Still holding onto the tree, he did another sweep of the area. Maybe someone helped him and was still there, although, the more he looked and strained his ears, there was nothing more than the rustling of the forest and the occasional critter. Either way, he had no answers and standing around in the forest wasn't going to give them to him. He stood to his full height and let go of the tree. His body was in no pain. There wasn't even a scratch on him. Though he was confused, he revelled in the feeling. After the day he had, it was a blessing.
He noticed something was in his mouth, pressing against his cheek so he tried to fish it out with his tongue. It was strange in texture, almost smooth but also a little tough so it was hard to move. He used his fingers and managed to pull it out from where it was stuck between his teeth. He frowned, examining it, trying to figure out what it was, but in the next moment, he was on his hands and knees retching. His last act of survival flooded his brain, so vivid that he was practically reliving it. His teeth in the creature's neck, the thickened blood in and around his mouth, the sound of skin, muscle and fat ripping away as he pulled, going back for more, over and over again until the creature dropped.
Between bouts of gagging, he did his best to pick out all the other bits stuck in his teeth, spitting out bloody saliva as he tried to rid his mouth of any evidence of what he did. Eventually, his stomach calmed down, leaving a painful ache and a burning sensation in his throat. He groaned and wiped at his eyes and mouth, taking a calming breath so he could try and focus on what to do next. He needed to head back to the village to ensure everyone was okay and that there hadn't been a second wave of Undead. It was rare, but it had happened in the past. He looked around for Pantera, realising that she wasn't in her scabbard, then made his way back home.

When Grimmjow reached the village, it was pretty quiet. The bonfire of bodies was merely a memory, the pit empty, apart from old ash and new wood. He decided that he would visit Kayleb first. He was the closest he had to a friend.
He spent most of his days training or helping the village in any way he could. He knew most of the people and they all knew of him, whether it be from his work around the village or from his youth, a tragic tale of a young boy, orphaned in an Undead attack, who hid from the world in grief and refused help from those around him. He survived only by the kindness of the village, leaving food and clothing and other necessities at his house. To help with his grief and nightmares of the attacks he found that practising his sword skills helped. His father had taught him a few skills, so he honed them the best he could using a wooden sword his father had whittled from a fallen tree branch. When he craved more he watched the Hunters train and copy them, until one day he decided that he was done hiding. He was done being afraid. He wanted to destroy the Undead. So when he was old enough he joined the Hunters. It was around the same time when he decided that he wanted to pay back the village people for helping him. He really appreciated what they did for him, although as a young child he took it for granted. As a young teenager, he could see exactly how they saved him, the sacrifices some of them must have made to ensure another child lived to adulthood. Being a recluse all those years didn't help with his social skills so it was hard for him to verbalise what he truly felt, his gratitude for them, so he wanted to show it instead. He fixed what he could, brought water from the well, hunted for game, foraged, helped in the gardens and so on. For years, that was his life; Training, protecting the village and helping the people. He didn't focus on friendships, although Kayleb was constantly by his side and tried his best to be his sparring partner as often as he was allowed. They laughed and shared the desire to eradicate the creatures that plagued their land.
When he reached Kayleb's house, he knocked and waited. It was only then that he realised that it was still dark as he noticed the soft glow of candlelight in the window. He was shocked. He had thought that it was early morning with how much he was able to see, but he didn't get a chance to ponder what was going on because the door swung open.
"Grimmjow! Oh by the Gods you're okay!" Kayleb exuded relief, grasping his forearm in greeting.
"It's not that easy to get rid of me," he smiled. Kayleb moved aside, allowing him to enter his home.
"Where have you been? It's been three days, Grimm. The others thought that maybe you'd stayed home to rest, the battle was tougher than the last for sure, but I checked your house. Three days of nothing, of no one seeing you." Kayleb led them to the seating area indicating for him to sit as he took his own, reclining back. Grimmjow rubbed his hands over his face, another unbelievable piece of information. Three days? What was going on?
"You remember the kid I hid away?" – there was a nod and a hum of acknowledgement – "Well his mother invited me for dinner." At that tidbit of information, Kayleb leaned forward in his chair, elbows on knees and a smile upon his face.
"So that's where you were! I hope you had fun – What?"
"I didn't end up going and that wasn't the reason I was going, you fucking insatiable ape. First, I'm pretty sure she's a widow and second, I'm not looking for a romantic relationship."
"Why not? And you're never looking for a relationship. But you don't need a relationship to have intimate relations ," Kayleb stated, waggling his eyebrows up and down.
"Oh just shut up and listen." Grimmjow clenched his hands and rubbed his new leg as he recapped what happened. Kayleb was surprised, but his eyes widened and almost bugged out of his head towards the end of the story. His head was resting on his fingers, looking up at Grimmjow.
"So… What? You're thinking magic?" he asked, regarding the fully healed leg and lack of injuries.
"I honestly have no idea. It would be nice to think that a sorcerer helped me out, but where are they? Why leave me in the forest? Either way, whatever happened, I'm gunna chalk it up to a miracle. I've never believed in them before but I don't really have another explanation. I'm just glad to be alive. I thought that was it, you know?" There was silence as Kayleb processed the crazy story.
"I have no words. Everything you've just said makes you sound like you've lost your mind. If it wasn't for your ruined clothes and disgusting appearance and the fact that the leg of your pants is gone, I would have called you a liar. I would have insisted you hit your head and taken you to the doctor."
"Yeah, I wouldn't blame you," Grimmjow laughed. He stretched his arms above his head and stood up. "I'm going to take my leave. Hopefully, the little boy's mother is awake. I want to apologise for my absence and I hope that they have some food to spare. I'm fucking starving."

As strange as his predicament was, Grimmjow revelled in the beauty of the night. He could see more stars than ever, the breeze was like a silk sheet against his skin; cool and soft. Well, it was what he imagined it would feel like. He'd never felt it before although he had heard it was quite nice. On his way to Kai's house, he detoured to the well to give himself a quick wash so he didn't show up as ghastly. He knocked lightly as he didn't want to wake anyone if they were already asleep. He had been gone for three days, he wanted to assure them that he didn't stand them up so he didn't want to wait until morning unless he had to. His attention focussed back on the door when he heard a shuffling. It cracked open revealing Kai's mother looking startled.
"Grimmjow?!" she exclaimed in a hushed voice.
"I'm sorry it's late, but I wanted to apologise for my absence. If you were asleep, I would have come back tomorrow, but I didn't want to leave it any longer." He waited with bated breath for her reply. She rubbed her eyes and smiled, opening the door fully.
"You're a good man, Grimmjow. I'm sure there's a good reason. Come on in. I have some leftovers from dinner if you would like some?"
"Oh, yes, please. I'm starving." Grimmjow rubbed his hands together and swallowed the saliva that built up at the mention of food. They sat and the food was put in front of him. Before he could start she properly introduced herself as Luna, apologising for not doing so sooner. Then, once again, Grimmjow recounted his strange tale, sparing some of the gory details and wolfing down the food. He sat back with a satisfied sigh, his belly full, even if a little uncomfortably so.
"Then I made my way back to the village. I had to visit Kayleb first, one of the other Hunters, to let him know I was alive, then I came here." Luna looked so sad, her eyes downcast and body hunched.
"The things you Hunters go through for us… It's horrifying. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate everything all of you do for us, I just wish we didn't have to experience any of it. I wish those creatures didn't even exist." There was a heavy silence, the truth of those words hanging above them. There wasn't a single person in the village who didn't wish the same thing. Luna sat up straighter and took a breath, putting on a small smile that helped to lighten the mood.
"Kai was disappointed that he didn't get to see you. Would you mind coming by tomorrow?"
"Of course. It would be my pleasure."
When Grimmjow arrived home, his stomach was more unsettled than before. He felt nauseous. Shrugging it off, thinking it was from not having eaten for three days and then stuffing his face not too long ago, he plopped onto his bed and promptly fell asleep. Even though he woke up in the forest feeling good, his energy had ebbed, leaving him craving his bed as soon as he saw it. Maybe his body hadn't fully recovered like he originally thought. Hours later, Grimmjow woke up to his food climbing up his throat. He only had enough time to hang over the bed before he made a mess of the floor. He laid there for a while, wiping at the tears that were forced out, just breathing. Fortunately, the nausea was gone, but he didn't feel any more rested than he did the night before. He wanted to go back to sleep, however, the mess on the floor wasn't going to clean itself and if he left it for later it would be harder to wash away. He also had a promise to keep to a brave little boy. It was slow going but eventually, everything was clean and he was clean, his breath no longer death-inducing. The visit was nice. The boy was delighted that he had come by and was elated that he had saved them yet again from the monsters. He was looking at him like some sort of hero. It was nice as it was sad. He didn't want the boy to grow up idolising Hunters to then become one.

It wasn't an ideal life.

It was only then when lunch was offered that Grimmjow realised that he was hungry. Of course he was. He threw up what he ate the night prior. He reached for a leg of meat from the plate that was held out, fully prepared to devour it, but his stomach roiled. Maybe he wasn't ready for food yet. Luna noticed his hesitation and asked if the food was okay.
"Of course! It smells amazing," he rushed out, not wanting to offend her. "I just don't think I'm fully recovered. I wasn't feeling too well this morning and I'm starting to feel a little sick again." She offered help but he assured her that it was okay. He took his leave shortly after and went straight home. He couldn't figure out what was wrong. It couldn't have been the food from last night otherwise both Luna and Kai would have been ill as well. Maybe his near-death experience had taken a toll. Yeah, that's probably what it was. He plopped down on his bed and was asleep in seconds.
When he awoke this time, it was sluggish and he felt as if he was climbing through thick soup. His throat was as dry as a desert and sore, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and his eyes felt as if they were glued shut. Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands he slowly sat up then stumbled over to his washbasin. He splashed his face and rubbed the water into his eyes. It helped some. At least he could somewhat see. His stomach was cramping and he still was not better, if not worse. He ached and felt heavy and every movement was an effort. But, as usual, he had to get up and look after his needs. He sighed when he realised it was dark outside. It meant that he slept the day away, his duties and responsibilities to the village left undone. He was sure Kayleb covered for him, but it wasn't fair to the people. Luckily, when his stomach protested in hunger, Grimmjow didn't have to expend any energy for food. Luna had him take some home with him. Sadly though, he still felt sick when he tried to eat it. He forced himself to eat some, he needed the nutrition, but he wasn't able to keep it down. At that moment, he decided he would visit the village doctor. Something was definitely wrong.
The doctor checked everything she could think of and deemed him healthy. She told him it was probably something psychological from the trauma he endured. She gave him instructions to stick to soups, broths and when he was ready, stews. She said they were easier to keep down while ill. The doctor was a beautiful woman. Isla, her name was. She helped out the village outside of her profession. She always made extra food and spared some of her own on hard harvest years for those struggling. She would do late night calls and help in any way she could when she had the time. This time was no exception. She handed Grimmjow three days' worth of broth and soup, stating that her wife was making more at home when he began to protest. As much as he wanted to down the food, he was told to take it slow. So once he was home, he picked up the broth, put it into a heat-proof pot and sat it on the fire in the wall. When it was hot enough, he carefully sipped at it. It wasn't anything special and didn't taste as good as it smelled, but he couldn't afford to be picky especially in his predicament and after the doctor was so generous. He finished the broth and breathed a sigh of relief. So far so good. It was sitting weird, but nowhere near as uncomfortable as the day before. He didn't move straight away for fear of upsetting his stomach but after a few minutes he was up and clearing away. He felt like he had more energy and was more awake, though he was far from feeling himself. But, it was a start. He decided to check on the village, hoping there wouldn't be any attacks. He met up with Kayleb and some of the other Hunters, recalling where he had been, what happened and his visit to the doctor. He did a quick lap of the village before retiring back home. He was tired again and his stomach was cramping, so he heated some more broth then promptly fell asleep not too long after finishing it.
The next few days played out similarly. He would wake up feeling awful, eat, then try to go about his usual duties. He found himself getting weaker, the broth just slowing the process. One day he tried the soup as he was getting low on broth, but he ended up painting the floor with it. So he stuck with the broth and donated the soups. Since he was running out, he visited the doctor to ask for the recipe so he could continue making it. She said it was a very old recipe, almost ancient, but it was packed with nutrients as the main ingredients were blood and bone. From that day forward, that was his only food source. He was unable to eat anything else.
After a couple of weeks, Grimmjow felt like death warmed over, a walking carcass. The broth helped a little with the aches and pains he developed, his constantly dry throat and it gave him a little boost of energy. Going into the third week, he didn't feel like he wasn't getting worse, but he wasn't getting any healthier either. He was glad that he stopped getting worse, but was worried that he wasn't getting better at all. Isla had no clue as to what was wrong. By all means, he should be getting better but due to his condition, he was deteriorating. He now looked sickly and gaunt. His muscle tone had faded, he had lost weight, his eyes were sunken and had bags and his hair was falling limp and looking dull, almost unwashed and greasy. His physical changes didn't go unnoticed by the villagers. They had asked if there was anything they could do, going out of their way to make things for him, bringing food which he had to sadly decline. The disheartened looks on their faces when they realised that there really wasn't anything they could do, made him feel worse. After a few days, Grimmjow decided that it was best to stay home. He couldn't bear the sad expressions of the people that helped him survive his childhood. He couldn't bear the whispers of grief as if he was dying. Maybe he was.
When it came to food, he managed the best he could with gathering the ingredients, leaving the hunting to Kayleb, but even the whole process had to be given to him in the end as he was just too tired. Everything was an effort.

It was a late afternoon when Grimmjow dragged himself from his hole. He needed fresh air and a walk to feel human and not an empty husk. There weren't many villagers around which was a huge relief, he didn't want to see or speak to anyone. He walked to the centre of the village to the well and sat on the edge, looking up at the sky watching all the pinks and oranges of the sunset, breathing in the fresh spring air. The sound of someone running drew his attention from the beautiful picture. Upon seeing Kai, he instantly smiled. Although he wasn't a social person, nor had he spent any time around children, they always warmed his heart. He believed they should be as happy as possible, letting them live out their innocence for as long as possible. Kai's eyes widened in shock when he got closer, realising that it was Grimmjow sitting at the well.
"Grimmjow?"
"Yeah kid, it's me," Grimmjow pushed out through the dryness in his throat. His voice was gravelly and hardly sounded like him.
"You look different. Are you okay?" He huffed out a little laugh.
"Yeah, I'm okay little man. I'm just a little sick and it's just taking a while for me to get better."
"Oh, okay! Well, when I'm sick, mummy makes me soup and I stay in bed and I drink lots of water. Oh! And when the season is good, she gets me oranges!" The boy was bubbly which lifted a weight from his chest that he didn't even know he had. He felt like he could breathe again.
"Well, I have broth and water and I do stay in bed. So I must be missing oranges. Thank you for the advice!" he said with a smile and Kai gave one back. "How come you're out this late? Won't your mother have dinner ready soon?" Kai bounced up from his position next to him.
"We had a rat and mummy asked me to chase it away. I didn't want it to come back so I chased it away from the house," he stated proudly. He looked very happy with himself. It must have felt like an important job, a great responsibility to help his mother out. Grimmjow smiled once again and ruffled the boy's hair.
"Good job! I'm sure your mother appreciates you doing that for her. Now, off you go before you worry her."
"Okay! See you later!" He took off at a run, only to trip and fall flat. He was in tears instantly and Grimmjow was there as fast as he could. He helped him up, checking him over for injuries. His knees and hands were red and a little grazed but his nose took the brunt of the fall and was bleeding.
"Grimmjow…?" but he didn't hear him. His vision blurred, tunnelled, until all he could see was red. His stomach hurt something fierce, his jaw and gums ached terribly and he was panting harshly.

Grimmjow blinked, coming back to his senses only to realise he was being restrained, that he was snarling and drooling and thrashing and reaching for –
He let out a scream, body his own again tumbling backwards into the Hunter who had restrained him as he stopped struggling. The look of pure horror on Kai's face will haunt him to his grave. He looked around at the people around him. Kayleb was running onto the scene, Darcey was the one who held him back and the other villagers looked frightened, hiding or holding onto each other. In front of him, Luna had wrapped Kai in her arms, facing him away, her expression was one of disbelief and hurt.

He tried to hurt someone.

He tried to hurt a child.

He tried to hurt Kai.

His head was in turmoil, thoughts everywhere. What was going on? What happened? Why was he acting like this? Will it happen again?
'Oh, gods, what if it happened again?' That was it. He couldn't risk it. He couldn't risk hurting anyone, let alone another child.
He sat on his knees and bowed his head.
"Kill me." It was barely a whisper. Darcy looked at him incredulously.
"Fuck off Grimm. We aren't going to kill you." Grimmjow looked him in the eyes.
"Why? You saw what I almost did! What if it happens again! I cannot do that. I wasn't even aware it was happening in the first place. I'm a danger to the village now. So the best thing you can do, for the sake of everyone here, is to kill me!" He was huffing with the effort it took to express himself. This time it was Kayleb who spoke, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Grimm, we will figure this out –"
"How!?" he yelled. "Isla can't figure it out and she is the best we have! She doesn't know what to do! What now?" Kayleb was taken aback.
"I - I don't know Grimm!. But this has never happened before. Maybe we can get a sorcerer down here to look you over or something?"
"And do what while we wait for whoever to traverse to the grand ol' city and back? In that time I may kill someone and I don't want that! Kill me! " Grimmjow was angry now, exhausted but angry. How can't they see that he is a danger? He looked between them, hoping for them to understand the reality of the situation, what needs to be done but they didn't budge. His shoulders drooped in defeat. He looked up at Luna, she was still frozen in shock, Kai squished to her front, head buried in her arms.
"I'm sorry," he whispered to her, then in the next moment, he grabbed Darcy's dagger from his boot and stabbed himself in the heart.

The pain wasn't as bad as he thought. It still hurt a lot, but compared to everything that he had been dealing with, it was just another pain that was added to the pile. He felt weakness wash over him, whether it was from the wound or his exertion, he couldn't be sure. He was slowing down though, that much he knew. It got harder and harder to move and his heart was burning with the need to beat, but every pulse cut the tissue further. He was vaguely aware of Kayleb calling him an idiot, of Darcy yanking the knife out and pressing onto his wound. The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was Luna crying. At least everyone was safe now.

It was dark. He was cold. His ears had something in them. His nostrils were blocked too. He realised he wasn't breathing either and tried to inhale but he couldn't move his mouth. He felt stuck as if something was keeping him in place, pressure all around him. He panicked. He tried to breathe again, but all he got was a mouthful of something dry and grainy, sticking to every moist crevice of his mouth. He screamed, or tried to, and thrashed as much as he could, loosening the pressure around him. Finally, a hand was able to move. He immediately reached up, digging until he found air, then wriggled and clawed and grasped until his head and shoulders were exposed and free from the suffocating pressure. He breathed in the air and immediately choked on the dirt. After coughing and retching, he was able to finally breathe, sprawled on the ground, his chest heaving. He glanced at his chest, the wound was still there, skin torn and muscle visible, but it wasn't bleeding, then he dropped his head back to the ground, looking to the side. He was on the outskirts of his village, in a clearing they used for a cemetery, when the villagers died of natural causes or illness, not Undead attacks. He was sitting in his own shallow grave. He was dead. He was supposed to be dead. He stabbed himself to protect the village. But here he was, alive and still a danger. From somewhere deep inside, a desolate, broken cry tore itself from his throat.

What was happening?

Notes:

Thank you everyone who likes this story. This will probably be the sole work I'll be concentrating on for a while. If this site goes down, I do have this and other works on AO3.
I would also like to mention that I have opened up a : Taurie Lucas where you can chat with me and other patrons (when I get them haha) There will be more, I just need to learn more about the site.

The formatting is still a problem, I'm sorry.