Making an effort

Kuroshitsuhi fic:: Office Affairs

Wed, 08 Jul 2009 21:40:59 GMT

Title: Office Affairs
Author: aviss
Pairing: Will/Undertaker /Grell
Genre: crack
Rating: R
Word Count: 265
Summary: Shinigami, alcohol and an office party.
Notes: I blame kamapon for giving me very strange ideas.

Office Affairs

He should have known better.

He honestly should have, but Grell could be very persuasive when he wanted to--and he did very interesting things with that mouth of his, teeth notwithstanding --and well, he had to admit it was quite funny.

Well no, it had been funny two hours ago, when William had started slurring his words and looking unfocused around him, blinking in a futile attempt to clear his head; whatever else the stuff Grell brought from Earth was, it was strong.

It had been funny an hour and a half ago, when Grell began to molest a passed out William, taking funny pictures of his naked butt and other interesting bits.

It had been fucking hilarious an hour ago, when William had groggily opened his eyes, still unfocused and clearly inebriated, and had walked out of the room with nothing on but his glasses and Grell's art.

Half an hour ago the amusement started dimming, when a clearly sober and very much enraged William had come back, his chiding tone cold and promising mountains of pain. Still, seeing Grell cowering in a corner had been at least quite entertaining.

Right now, on his hands and knees with a shaking Grell whimpering in a corner and a coldly efficient William behind him, getting ready to fuck him into next week, it was hard to find the humour in the situation.

"William," he said, conscious that his voice wasn't as steady or as commanding as it should be.

"Yes boss?" William said, short and slightly amused.

"Hurt me and I dock your pay."

...

Bleach Fic: Storm Front - Part V

Wed, 08 Jul 2009 18:14:24 GMT

Title: Storm Front - Part V
Author: aviss
Pairing: Grimmjow/Ichigo
Rating: PG-13 this part
Genre: Action, Adventure
Warning: Violence
Disclaimer: Bleach and its characters belong to Kubo Tite, as everyone already knows.
Summary: While investigating the disappearance of a group of shinigami Ichigo discovers not everything they told him about the end of the war is true.
Word Count: ~2.300

Prologue - A Storm is Brewing
Part I - The Calm Before the Storm
Part II - Storm Clouds
Part III - Thunderstom
Part IV - The Eye of the Storm

Part V - Weathering the Storm

You lost, King. Now it's my turn.

Ichigo stares at the white image of himself and sighs annoyed. He's in his inner world, which means he now has to fight this fucking nuisance, again, while in the outside the hollow wreaks havoc.

He knows what that means for Kurotsuchi's life expectations, and he's not sorry the bastard is about to be torn limb from limb by the monster he sought to control. He also knows what that means for Renji's and Grimmjow's survival chances though, and he'd rather not have their blood on his hands before the day is out.

He must hurry.

"I'm still conscious, I'm still alive," Ichigo says, getting ready for the fight. "I won't let you win."

We'll see, King. We'll see.

…

The monster's movements are too fast for Grimmjow to follow, especially since he can't move on his own. One instant it's there, staring at Kurotsuchi from behind his mask, and the next he's on the other side of the training grounds attacking relentlessly while Kurotsuchi dodges and retreats.

It's a magnificent sight to behold, even with the threat of imminent death hanging on his head. Grimmjow knew about the monster for the stilted conversations he heard between Kurosaki's friends back in Hueco Mundo, before the end of the War and the beginning of his nightmare. He has wanted to see him fight since then.

And now he is getting his wish granted; he's watching the hollow, his movement fast and precise, graceful and slick as only a mindless animal can be. He's fucking beautiful: all that power, all that insanity. Grimmjow longs for it to be focused on him.

But not right now.

In his current condition it would mean certain death for Grimmjow, and though he's not overly worried at the prospect of his own demise at the hands of this beautiful beast, it would prevent him form fighting Kurosaki, in either of his forms, ever again.

He can't allow that.

It doesn’t take long for Kurotsuchi to realize he's fighting a lost battle unless he really tries to kill his enemy, much as the fucker talked about needing this specimen alive; Grimmjow notices the moment that realization hits him, his body tensing mid dodge and even his mask managing to convey his scowl.

He feels an insane urge to grin; whatever happens, Kurotsuchi will not win.

The hollow attacks barehanded, though his sword is not far from him, chasing his target on instinct and trying to rip him apart like the mindless being he is at the time. He's not talking, not paying attention to anything but his foe, neglecting defence for relentless attacks. Kurotsuchi has also stopped talking, all his attention focused in survival.

Grimmjow tries to move again, using all his willpower to break the control placed on him by the reiatsu seal now Kurotsuchi's attention is diverted. He can see, out of the corner of his eye, the other shinigami's eyes following the fight and the focused look on them, and he knows the shinigami is also attempting to break free.

He still can't move, but his attempts seem to have caught Kurotsuchi's attention and he feels his body jumping into the fight again, attacking the hollow's unprotected back.

Coward, Grimmjow seethes inwardly, his hand going to his sword and unsheathing it, seeing the spray of red blood as the swing connects with the hollow's back.

It howls, turning to face Grimmjow in a move so fast he can't see it, pain exploding in his chest where the hollow's claws rip his body, skin and muscle tearing, blood dripping on to the parched sand below.

Fuck!

He sees the Shinigami stepping into the place Grimmjow was occupying a second before, his sword also in his hand and attacking the hollow while Kurotsuchi retreats to a distant corner of the training area.

So the fucking bastard wants to use them again.

They attack together, swords glinting in the sun as they cut and block those dangerous claws. Kurotsuchi doesn’t seem to be overly concerned with their defence, allowing them to take damage as he sees fit, but he at least tries to parry the hits. He probably wants his puppets to last as long as possible.

The hollow is strong, too strong for both of them to fight under these conditions. Grimmjow is not sure they would have a better chance if they were fighting on their own, but being moved as chess pieces trying to inflict damage on a being which can fucking heal itself immediately is the worst possible way.

He shots a cero, seeing the hollow's hand lift to block it barehanded and a ball of energy gathering between the points of his horns. Grimmjow cringes inwardly, if he's hit with that, and he has no doubt he will, there is no way he survives. The Shinigami next to him seems to know that fact as well, if the horror in his eyes is any indication.

He watches, fascinated, as a cero to rival his own Gran Rey Cero forms, ready to blast him into nothingness. He doesn’t have time to feel sorry for himself, at least he got to see and fight Kurosaki one last time, and this time his stupid conscience won't interfere with the end of the fight.

It's not the best way to go, but it beats being controlled and imprisoned.

He'd smile if he could move.

The monster howls again, turning sharply and rushing in the opposite direction, the blast aimed now at Kurotsuchi. He wasn't expecting it, unable to completely dodge it while the hollow calls his sword to his hand. Grimmjow can't see in the middle of the white blast, the hollow disappearing inside the cloud formed by the destruction, but he can tell the moment Kurotsuchi dies.

There is an instant of pain, sharp and cleansing on the back of his neck, and then blessed freedom and movement return to Grimmjow. Control, he's finally in control of his own body.

Grimmjow opens his mouth and screams in triumph, throwing his head back, the sound echoing in the entire training grounds.

…

The relief of being free to move is short lived.

They're still in deep shit, Kurotsuchi's careless use of them has left Grimmjow and the shinigami severely wounded, and with a big problem in their hands.

"Can you move, Shinigami?" Grimmjow asks shortly, his eyes fixed on the dust cloud already setting. He can see a shape standing there, not moving or doing anything, just standing.

He should be grateful the hollow had enough intelligence in him to recognize his enemy, but he's not counting on their luck to hold much longer. He knows what Kurosaki did to his friend last time he lost it like this.

"I think so," the shinigami says, his voice strained. Grimmjow turns to look at him and asses his condition. The shinigami is bleeding profusely from a deep gash under his collarbone, and one of his legs is drenched as well. He's standing, but he probably doesn’t have much energy to fight, nor a lot of freedom of movement if the way he favours his uninjured side is any indication.

Grimmjow is in a slightly better shape, his chest is torn and bleeding as well, and his left arm feels broken from when he was slammed against a rock before, but it's not enough to stop him fighting.

The dust clears completely and they see the hollow, standing with its back to them and staring at a shivering and whimpering bundle on the ground. It's not difficult to recognize Nell, the tiny arrancar Kurosaki carried around in Hueco Mundo. She seems to be unharmed, though terrified out of whatever wits she has.

"We need to stop him," Grimmjow says, his eyes never leaving the scene, wondering if the hollow is so far gone it will attack Nell.

"Yeah, I know," the shinigami agrees, gathering his reiatsu. Grimmjow realizes the guy is about to go Bankai, and considers if he should release his sword as well. His released form gives him speed and strength, though it doesn’t increase his range and he's not too sanguine about getting too close to the hollow. "We need to cut one of the horns," the shinigami informs him, "for what Ishida told me is what Ulquiorra did to break the mask."

Grimmjow nods, "You or me, Shinigami?" he asks, eyeing intently the still unmoving hollow.

"It's Renji," he says, shooting him a look, "not Shinigami."

Grimmjow rolls his eyes. He doesn't give a fuck. "Whatever, Renji. You or me?"

"You," Renji grits through clenched teeth, and then he releases the reiatsu. "Bankai!" Grimmjow sees how his sword transforms into a weird, huge bone serpent. "I'll handle long range--"

He doesn't finish whatever he's going to say, Grimmjow grabbing him and jumping aside just in time to evade one of those monstrous ceros. The Bankai release must have triggered the attack, Grimmjow realizes. "Pay attention, Shinigami," he snaps once they are as far away from the hollow as they can get. He releases his sword immediately, moving quickly the instant he sees the hollow approaching them.

Renji has taken position behind the hollow, unfurling his sword and wrapping it around it; the movement is futile, Grimmjow knows the hollow will be free in less than two seconds, but it might give him the time to get close enough for what he needs.

It doesn't. The moment Grimmjow steps up to him, the hollow turns and growls, the disjointed pieces of Renji's sword falling around him. He doesn’t have the time to dodge the hit, only to try to block it with his hardened arms but the pain when they collide is excruciating. He's sure both of them are broken now, his attacks rendered useless.

"Fuck!" Grimmjow swears falling to the ground.

The hollow is almost on top of him, his black sword an omen of death in the too bright enclosure. Grimmjow leaps to his feet as the sword descends on him, taking a glancing blow to his side but avoiding being skewered just by sheer dumb luck.

"That's not going to work," Renji says appearing at his side. His limping has gotten worse and Grimmjow can see he's reaching his limit. He won't be able to hold his Bankai for long.

"No shit!" Grimmjow says scathingly. He hates that he's been forced to fight the hollow with such poor odds, especially because he is sure there won't be a second chance for him to do it. "Again!" he urges the shinigami. He knows it's not going to work but that doesn't mean he's not going to try.

Renji nods grimly, jumping aside and forcing his sword to reform, using it as a huge whip to force the hollow to move. Grimmjow takes his chance to move as well, gritting his teeth against the pain in his arms while he prepares for his strongest technique. He approaches the hollow from the back, releasing the Desgarron as he jumps, aiming for the hollow's head.

He can see the bolts of light approaching the hollow, fast and precise, and has moment to hope it might actually work before they dissolve, breaking in a million tiny pieces of useless energy.

"Grimmjow!" he hears the shinigami shouting, but he can't move, he can't do anything but stare at the arm protruding from his belly, his breath gurgling in his throat.

"Shit," he rasps, his knees buckling, his remaining strength leaving him. "Shit."

This close he can see how truly inhuman the hollow's eyes are, he can also see how a tiny spark of energy grows to become a cero. The hollow's head turn and Grimmjow opens his mouth, each breath agonizing.

"Watch out Shinigami!" But he can see Renji is not going to be able to move on time, not with his Bankai crumbling around him.

He thinks he sees something glinting in the sky, like tiny crystals falling, and he closes his eyes slowly.

This is it, they are done for.

…

Tired already, King?

Ichigo pants, staring at his distorted reflection grinning predatorily at him, his blue tongue coming out to lick his lips in a disturbingly sensual gesture. Ichigo shudders. This is the longest he's had to fight the deranged hollow, and even though he's not losing, he's not winning either.

He's just wasting time he doesn’t have.

With a growl he lunges at the hollow, who dodges him laughing, not attacking him when his haste leaves him wide open.

Why such a hurry, King? The hollow taunts him, blocking his attacks, the smirk never leaving his face. He's playing with Ichigo, that much is clear, though he can't, for the life of him, imagine why.

"Fucker," Ichigo mumbles, only he would have a personal demon as annoying as this one inside of him. "Why are you not fighting seriously?" Ichigo shouts, his patience at its limit. "Are you afraid of losing?"

I've already won, King, he says mockingly, bowing slightly never breaking eye contact with Ichigo.

The hollow laughs and Ichigo's blood freezes in his veins, realizing again what an utter moron he really is, falling for everyone's traps.

"No," he denies, though he can see it might well be possible. Grimmjow and Renji didn't have a chance against his hollow unless they broke Kurotsuchi's control first, and this fucker has kept him busy enough time for it to be too late.

Yes, you've already killed everyone you wanted to protect, the hollow says, smug satisfaction oozing of every word. There's no point returning there, is there Ichigo?

…

Part VI - Shoring up the Debris (soon)

Naruto fic: Love Like a Tempest, Love Like a Hurricane

Sun, 28 Jun 2009 17:16:36 GMT

Title: Love Like a Tempest, Love Like a Hurricane
Author: aviss
Pairing: Kakashi/Iruka
Genre: Drama, Romance, Angst
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A series of random encounters between two strangers.
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, obviously.
Word Count: ~6.000
Author Notes: As if I would be able to get into a fandom and not try to write for it at least once…

Love Like a Tempest, Love Like a Hurricane

1.

Iruka is 14 years old and has just killed a man.

He knows this is not something worth noticing, a date not worth marking down a calendar for late perusal and remembering. He's a shinobi, a chuunin. He does what it takes to complete his mission alive, with his full team intact, and protect Konoha.

He can't help doing both things, though. He's just 14 and he has killed a man.

It's not the same, he realizes, practicing his aim with trees and inanimate targets. It's not the same, not by a long shot, driving a shuriken through a straw man's throat with pinpoint accuracy and being praised for his good aim, than doing so through a living breathing man, feeling his warm and sticky blood falling on his hands.

No amount of dismembered straw men can prepare him for what he's done.

He knows better than let his emotions show in front of his team though, they would never understand. Not his sensei, who praised him for his cool head and good judgement disabling the threat; not his team mates, who looked at him in awe for being the first one to draw blood in his group.

He could do without both feelings, and that's the reason he's currently where he is.

Every hidden ninja village has a joint like Haven. A place where shinobi can go to unwind and try to regain some sort of balance after difficult missions. In Haven everyone is welcome, as long as they need to be there, no questions asked.

Iruka never believed he would be one to set foot into that place, joking with his team mates about the nut cases who went there. Now he knows better.

Anywhere else they would have not served him the alcohol nor allowed him the privacy he wanted. In Haven they know that if Iruka is old enough to need it, he probably is old enough to have it.

There are other patrons in the bar, all of them nursing their drinks and their wounds, blurred faces hidden in the shadows, drinking alone or maybe in pairs. There is no laugher or joy in the air, no big groups of merry people having fun, and the air is thick with grief and unspoken things.

Iruka hates the place.

He orders another drink when he's finished.

Not far from where he is another boy is drinking. Iruka would have not noticed him, except he is the closest one to Iruka's age and his only uncovered eye looks way older. He's also alone, not looking up from his glass and not paying any attention to his surroundings.

Iruka sighs and looks at his hands, surprised to notice they are not red, not dripping with warm blood. They don't look like the hands of a killer, and he thinks this is somehow wrong.

He looks up again and finds that old eye staring at him with curiosity. The man--boy, really--tilts his head in a surprisingly endearing manner and smiles at him, his masked face making it difficult to discern the expression.

"You're new here," he says approaching Iruka.

He's feeling pleasantly blurry thanks to the alcohol or he would have said something to drive the boy away, Iruka is not there for the conversation. As things are, he just nods and signals for another refill.

They sit side by side for a while, not looking and not really talking to each other; his presence, however, seems to be doing some good to Iruka. It's more the fact that someone like him is there, sharing the poisonous air filled with guilt and grief, that makes Iruka feel normal.

He catches himself staring at his hands again, looking at them as if they are something alien instead of a part of his body. The boy follows his look and nods in understanding.

"They're clean," he says, as if he can read Iruka's mind. He probably can.

"Are they?" Iruka hears himself breathing, barely audible.

"Yes, they are," the boy reassures him, taking Iruka's hands between his.

The contact makes Iruka startle for a second and he wonders if he should just pull his hands away and leave the place, but he can't. It's the first person who has touched him with such gentleness, his hands warm and careful around Iruka's, showing him they are not stained. He is not stained.

Iruka is pathetically grateful for the contact.

"It gets easier," the boy says, his voice soft and low and full of confidence, his hands squeezing Iruka's slightly. "You might not believe it now, but it gets easier when it's your life or theirs, your loved ones or them."

Iruka studies the little he can see of the boy's face, nodding in acknowledgement. He knows he's right, that's the reason he needed a drink.

"And if it doesn't?" he finally asks, afraid of the answer.

It's a question he would never dream asking in front of his friends or his sensei, but here, in the dim light of Haven, with his hands between this boys', he finds the courage to let the words spill from his lips.

He doesn’t want it to get easier.

"Then that would mean you're a better person than I am."

…

2.

Iruka is 16 and has just buried a friend.

Death is a constant companion for a shinobi, hounding his steps every mission and trying to ambush him at any given time. That doesn’t make it easier to bear when the one being buried is young, and talented and so dearly loved.

He's in Haven again tonight, drinking for Akito and remembering every one of his smiles, and jokes, and kisses. Sweet Akito with the large brown eyes and smiling mouth. Daring, reckless Akito with the gaping throat and the glassy eyes.

Iruka swallows his tears with a gulp of sake and sighs.

Damned foolish Akito, dying before Iruka could say yes to his embarrassing proposal.

Haven hasn't changed since the last time Iruka was there, not that he expected it to. He has been there only a couple of times since that first one, not acknowledging even to himself he was always looking for the masked boy. Every single time he's been there has been after a kill, and even without the boy's presence Iruka remembers his words and takes comfort from them.

This time is different, though. This time there is no comfort to be had.

"Has is gotten easier?" A deep voice asks at Iruka's right, and he startles and turns, hand going to his weapons pocket on its own.

He turns and looks at the man standing next to him, and releases his grip on his kunai. He's grown in the last couple of years; nobody will ever think he's a boy again.

"No," Iruka answers truthfully, looking down at the bar again. "It hasn't."

He expects mockery or some kind of disappointment, like that time he told his friend Mizuki and was called a wimp. Instead the man smiles and nods, taking the sit next to Iruka. "Good."

Again they sit in comfortable silence, like two old friends who don't need words to communicate anymore. Iruka would find it strange if his mind wasn't drowning in grief. He makes a silent toast for Akito, emptying his glass and ordering more.

"Not a kill then," the man says, reading Iruka again like an open book, "but a funeral."

Iruka is glad of the man's presence next to him, glad to know that this stranger understands him and shares part of his burden, but he wants more of him. Tonight he needs more than kind words and companionable silences.

He didn't know, the first time he went, what other kind of comfort people sought in Haven. He was a kid after all.

He knows now.

He takes the man's hand and looks at him, sake and pain giving him courage he didn't have before, he didn't have for Akito. The man turns to look at him and tilts his head considering in that same endearing gesture Iruka remembers so well. Whatever he is looking for in Iruka's eyes, he seems satisfied he has found it after a few seconds.

The man signals to the bartender and a key is almost immediately tossed to him. Iruka feels a shiver running down his spine at his own daring: he's about to go upstairs with a man whose name he doesn’t know and whose face he has never seen.

"Are you sure?" the man asks before opening the door, giving Iruka an out.

He is.

There is no awkwardness once they are inside, just heat and friction and escalating desire. The man--Iruka has not asked his name and he doesn't think he will--has removed most of his clothes but not his mask, which Iruka thinks it's weird but doesn't comment on it.

They are touching and rubbing against each other, soft moans falling from half-open mouths, Iruka's back against the bed. They are not kissing, though, and Iruka is glad for it. He still has Akito's taste in his mouth; he wants to keep it for a long as he can.

He can feel the pleasure pooling in his lower belly while the man rubs against his body, his breath hot on Iruka's neck, his hands strong and hard and yet so gentle. He touches every inch of the hard body he can reach, pinching a nipple, tracing a scar, scraping his short blunt nails down the man's spine while a calloused hand wraps around their erections.

His mind goes blank, filled with white noise and the rapid thump of his heart against his ribcage, his eyes watering for some strange reason. Then he's there, the white light filling his mind and his numbness and grief spilling out of him, mingling with his release between their bodies.

Iruka hears his panting breath turning into sobs and feels embarrassed for a second. Shinobi don't need emotions like those, they are a liability and he's sure he's going to be scolded for them.

The man's warm hand settles on his shoulder, his thumb tracing circles on his neck. And there is silence and comfort.

When they come back down Iruka feels like a different person; it can't have been more than half an hour since they went up, but for him it was a lifetime ago.

They say goodbye outside Haven, the man depositing a soft kiss on the top of his head, his hand squeezing Iruka's shoulder. He realizes they have not spoken more than a handful of words and still, so much has transpired between them.

It doesn't matter. With a last look at the man, Iruka smiles his first real smile since Akito's death and goes home.

…

3.

Iruka is 17 and he's dying.

He knows this with a kind of detached certainty, and he is surprised that's the only feeling he has. He expected something else when the time came: panic, fear, something which showed he had an attachment to life. There is nothing, and that, probably, is the most surprising thing.

It's been a cock up of a mission since the beginning, and Iruka guesses he should be glad that they have not failed completely. The cost has been high, but they have completed the mission.

He wonders if Mizuki will reach Konoha on time for it to make a difference. Probably not. He wonders if anyone will cry for him at his funeral or if all the tears will fall for his Sensei and Yoshi, both dead not so far away from him.

He wonders if it matters.

Dying hurts, but not so much as he always believed it would. It's not a tearing pain nor a low burn, it's more like a slow ache engulfing his body, like a dull toothache which never goes away. It's not difficult to think around it, and if he had not drained his chakra so thoroughly disposing of the last assassin following them, Iruka thinks he might even be able to move.

Sighing, he closes his eyes and listens to the sounds of the forest, trying to catch some sign of help coming.

"Iruka!"

He opens his eyes startled to find an ANBU kneeling down in front of him, face covered by a fox porcelain mask, hands hovering over Iruka's shoulders as if trying to decide whether to shake him awake or not. Iruka blinks slowly, there is something familiar about the voice and the figure in front of him but he is too tired to think about what.

"Hang in there, Iruka, the medic is on the way," the ANBU says and Iruka nods tiredly, his eyes slipping close again of their own accord. "No, don't close your eyes. Look at me, talk to me."

He opens his eyes again with a huge effort. It shouldn't be this difficult, the crushing weight on his chest making breathing a draining chore, the simple fact of keeping his eyes open and focused draining him more than a training session.

"How--" he starts, the words coming out strained and barely audible. He tries again. "Mizuki--"

"Your team mate is fine," the ANBU says, his hand moving to rest over Iruka's stomach. "He found me on the way to the village and I came here to see if I could help until the medic arrives."

Iruka feels a slight warmth spreading from the ANBU's hand into his body, and his brain is still functioning enough to realize the guy is keeping him alive, pushing energy into his body and mending his worst injuries in a crude but effective way. It won't be enough to save his life, but it might just give him the time to wait for the medic.

He can feel the strength returning slowly to him and he can take in a few more details of his rescuer. The ANBU is tall and lean, his mask covering completely his face the way they are supposed to, but unable to completely cover his hair. Iruka knows he's seen and touched that hair before, the same way he knows the hands touching him now have been in closer contact with his skin.

Of all the places to meet his anonymous friend again, bleeding to death on the forest ground never made it to the list.

"You--" he says, his lips curling into a slight smile, his hands moving to reach for him.

"Yes, me," the ANBU says, a note of impatience creeping into his voice. "Now stay still, this is difficult as it is and I'd rather not let you die here before the medic arrives."

Iruka nods once, relaxing back and letting his eyes close now he knows his friend his there to take care of everything. An ANBU, well, that explains why he has not seen him at all outside Haven; and he has been looking for him, Iruka knows now, unconsciously searching his lank figure in the crowds, not satisfied anymore with the couple of times they've seen each other since the day of Akito's funeral.

He feels himself drifting into sleep, the warmth spreading from his stomach to the rest of his body, the pain fading to mere discomfiture. He hears, in the distance, the sounds of footsteps rushing towards them, Muzuki's cries of his name.

Everything is fine, his ANBU is there and nothing bad is going to happen to him.

"I'll be in Haven after the funeral," the ANBU says, a whisper caressing Iruka's face and making his tired body shudder.

The next second the medic is there and the ANBU is gone, but it doesn’t matter, not anymore. Iruka knows where to find him.

…

4.

Iruka is 19 and he's in love for the first time.

It shouldn't come as much of a surprise as it does considering his current position, flat on his back with his ANBU's mouth wrapped around his cock and his ANBU's fingers slowly breaching him.

He is surprised, though.

He is surprised because he has just realized he's very much in love with a stranger, a stranger he's known for five years and bedded for the past three, but a stranger nonetheless. He is surprised because he always assumed love would be different.

In Iruka's mind love was a tempest, a hurricane. It was a force like a natural disaster, a flood sweeping every other feeling from his body and leaving nothing but passion in its wake. It had been like that with Iruka's parents, for what little he knew and remembered. Instead love has crept to him unawares, a slow tide growing and growing until Iruka found himself neck deep in it and with no way out.

Not that he wants an out, there's no place Iruka'd rather be than here, warmth, heat and that delightful mouth making him gasp in pleasure.

"Iruka," his ANBU says bringing his attention back to the present and positioning himself on top of him.

"Please," Iruka hears himself saying, his hands coming up to encircle the other's neck and pull him down for a kiss.

That's the only thing Iruka doesn't like, but he'll bear with it anyway. He doesn’t like cloth covered kisses, nor he really likes full kisses in the most complete darkness, but it has to be one of the other.

He's getting used to the blindness.

He gasps into the mouth, trying to relax his body and allow the intrusion, relishing the burning feeling of his lover entering him. "Please," he repeats, not sure of what he's asking for anymore.

He wants this, he wants it very much, but there is a part of him screaming that it's not everything he wants. He doesn’t want darkness, he doesn't want not knowing. He wants everything love was supposed to be.

But he'll settle for what he can get.

Iruka arches up and kisses back with passion, pushing up with each thrust trying to get more; more depth, more friction, just more.

"Iruka," the other breathes against his mouth, thrusting into Iruka faster and faster, his body taut with tension and need under Iruka's hands.

They rush to completion in the darkness, breaths shared between their mouths, bodies trying to merge into each other, and they're finally there, letting go, the pleasure fierce and sharp and blinding.

The only spot of light in that blackness.

Afterwards Iruka stares blindly at the ceiling, his heart finally slowing down, his ANBU's breath regular telling Iruka he must be asleep.

He tries not to want, but he can't help it, this is the nature of love and now he is aware of it, Iruka wants everything.

"I wish you'd let me see your face," he whispers in the darkness, still not brave enough to request it when it can be denied.

There is an answer, though he wasn't expecting any, and he startles at the sound of the low voice, thick with sleep and amusement.

"Shouldn't you learn my name first, Iruka?"

…

5.

Iruka is 20 and he finally has the upper hand.

"Do I get to see your face now, Hatake-san?"

He's been sitting on the knowledge of his lover's name for a fortnight, going back to Haven more frequently than in the past few years in the hopes of catching him there. Now he finally is there, and Iruka can see the smile on his face even beneath the mask.

"You found out," Kakashi says, and there is a world of difference in being able to put a name to him. Especially that name.

Iruka almost couldn't believe his ears when Muzuki's words made the last piece of the puzzle fall into place.

That damned Hatake Kakashi! He's failed my genins again, the one-eyed bastard. He thinks he's so cool, with his mask and his Sharingan--

Iruka hadn't heard anymore, his mouth curling in a startled smile. Hatake Kakashi, it all fit.

And he finally had the name.

"I did," Iruka confirms, taking a step forward and raising his hand to Kakashi's face. He can feel the minute tensing of the slender frame at the movement, and lets his hand fall to his side again.

He wants to see the face beneath the mask, but it's not something he can take, even if Kakashi would let him do it.

It has to be given to him.

They stare at each other in silence for a while, the air thick with tension and then Kakashi rolls his eye and lets out a chuckle. "Fuck it!" He pulls down his mask himself, his hand betraying only a faint hesitation before doing it.

Iruka doesn’t gasp or act startled at the sight. He drinks it in, aware of the privilege that is being allowed to see it. Kakashi is handsome, almost beautiful, with sharp features and full lips. There is a scar marring on of his cheeks, but apart from that his face is flawless.

He takes a step forward, his eyes fixed on those lips, and captures them with his, relishing in the feeling of being able to kiss them and look at Kakashi's eye at the same time.

"Took you longer than I though," Kakashi says pulling away, a slight smile grazing his mouth.

It has, that's the truth. It's been close to eight months since Iruka made his mission to find the other's name, and it wasn't until then he realized what a pain in the ass was getting information out of shinobi.

"You try to find out an ANBU's identity without ending up as Ibiki's guest," Iruka replies tartly, enjoying the fact that he can read the expressions on Kakashi's face now, "and see how quick you can do it."

Kakashi laughs, eye crinkling and full of mirth, before he leans down again to brush his lips against Iruka.

"You could have asked me."

…

6.

Iruka is 22 and has never felt so furious in his life.

He can't believe what he's seeing, though he knows he shouldn't be surprised at all. They never made any promises, they never talked about feelings, but somehow Iruka expected their feelings to be mutual.

Now he knows better.

He looks from the end of the corridor as Kakashi comes out of the room, their room, with another person next to him. Iruka knows who this is: Anko, one of the jounins he recognizes from the mission desk. She's recently returned pretty screwed up from a mission, which is probably the reason she's there.

Haven is the place where screwed up shinobi go to regain their balance, to get their comfort. For some reason Iruka has forgotten this and now that fact is being rubbed in his face.

It hurts to realize the truth in such a way.

Kakashi looks in his direction--glares more like it--and goes away with her without even acknowledging Iruka's presence there.

He still goes into the room, closing the door after him and sitting on the bed, calling himself a fool for doing so. Kakashi is not going to come back; he's already done his good deed for the day.

But he does, startling Iruka out of his dark thoughts not ten minutes later.

"I didn't know you were into that, Kakashi," he says coldly the moment the door closes, Kakashi's hand stopping pulling the mask down.

There is a moment of silence, enough for Iruka to regret letting his mouth override his brain. The mood in the rooms shifts slightly, the air frozen and the shadows darkening. It suits Iruka perfectly right now.

"Into what, pray tell, Iruka-sensei?" Kakashi's voice is cold and hard, and his eye is regarding him with distaste, as if seeing him for the first time.

Iruka doesn’t answer, anger and hurt clogging his throat. He shrugs. "Is Anko feeling better now?" he says instead.

"Yes, she is."

"Her last mission was pretty bad, I heard," Iruka continues, knowing he's breaking some kind of unspoken rule of Haven. People don't talk about what happens there or about what made them go there in the first place, but his mind is not functioning right and he can't help himself.

So much for love, he tells himself, pity, that's the only thing you get here. He has wondered before why their encounters were restricted to Haven, now he knows.

"That it was," Kakashi says frigidly, "not that it is any business of yours."

"I expect she is feeling better now," Iruka continues heedless of the very dangerous way Kakashi is staring at him. "You are very good at what you do."

He shouldn't have said that, Iruka realizes the moment the words leave his lips, but there is not taking them back.

"Yes, I am a genius after all," Kakashi says, his voice like nothing Iruka has heard before. He has a second to be afraid, very afraid of Kakashi and then he is being pushed against the wall, Kakashi an unmovable object trapping him there. "You are here, so you must need the same from me."

Iruka wants to say no, it's not the same what he wants, but his mouth is immediately covered by Kakashi's still masked one, the taste of cloth in his tongue disgusting and overly familiar. He had hoped never to have it again.

He doesn’t struggle or try to stop Kakashi after that, using the rough way in which is body is being treated to bring home the reality of the situation. He overstepped his bounds presuming there was more to the relationship to what it was, and he's messed up bringing his jealousy into it.

He wanted the tempest, now he has it.

When he's finished, Kakashi moves away, staring at him from behind his mask with a cruel smile. "Do you feel better now, Iruka-sensei?" Kakashi asks mockingly. "Or do you need something else from me?"

"No, I don't," Iruka manages, his voice a pained whisper. Kakashi has been very thorough; leaving no doubt this was a punishment. "I don't think I will again, Hatake-san. Thank you for all your care, now I'm completely over it."

He thinks he sees something like regret and guilt in Kakashi's eye for a second, but it might have been just wistful thinking.

When he leaves he swears it's the last time he sets foot in Haven.

…

7.

Iruka is 23 and has never felt so alone.

He's avoided Haven for a long time, but he's finally there again, staring morosely at his empty glass. He doesn’t feel like drinking. He doesn’t feel like doing anything at all, really.

He hasn't since he was released from the hospital.

Mizuki's betrayal, so close after Kakashi's, has finally broken his resolve of never stepping into that place again.

He wonders why he's there; he promised himself to never return to Haven, but there he is now, exposing himself to the same thing which made him go away in the first place.

Some of the regulars pass by him, patting him lightly in the back and exchanging few words. Platitudes, they know what Iruka needs comforting from, they also know it's not them he wants.

Iruka isn't sure he will come tonight. What happened to Iruka is public knowledge, and everyone with half a brain can guess where Iruka will be headed straight after the hospital. That doesn't mean Kakashi will go to comfort him, not after the way things ended between them the last time.

He feels, more than sees, the moment Kakashi arrives.

"How are you feeling Iruka?" Kakashi says taking the seat recently vacated next to Iruka.

"Like my best friend just stabbed me in the back," he replies sincerely.

Kakashi nods and signals for a key, his look questioning. Iruka finishes his drink and snatches the key before Kakashi can take it. It's a different one and he hands it back to the waiter. "Not this one," he hears himself saying. "Ours."

He doesn't care anymore, he doesn't mind if it's not love. He needs Kakashi to make him forget, even if for just a few hours.

They go up the stairs in silence, the mood heavy with unspoken things and broken dreams.

They take their clothes unhurriedly, almost shyly once they are inside, and Iruka holds his breath when Kakashi stops to look at him, completely naked, and then takes the mask off almost like an afterthought.

Iruka heaves a sigh of relief.

It's slow and gentle from there, nothing like what Iruka remembers of their last, terrible time. Then it was punishment for Iruka's insolence, now it's all about comfort, and making him feel cherished and loved by someone.

Even if it's just an illusion.

He drinks in all the caresses and the way Kakashi kiss his body, ghosting touches over his chest and face, preparing him slowly to avoid causing any discomfort. It seems to take forever, but Kakashi is finally there, pushing inside of him with excruciating slowness, muttering sweet nothings in Iruka's ear. Iruka doesn’t hear anyway, he's mindless with pleasure and need, body taut and so very ready. They are rocking together slowly, the build up like a tide, taking them closer to completion an inch at a time, Iruka clinging fiercely to the body on top of him, repeating his name like a mantra.

They stay together, entwined on the bed, after is over.

"Iruka, I--" Kakashi starts when they finally catch their breath again; Iruka turns to look at him. Kakashi's face is unexpectedly open and he's regarding Iruka with such gentleness it's making his heart break. "I--"

He never finishes what he's going to say, Iruka takes a breath and completely breaks down, the past events crashing down on him and crushing him in a wave of sadness and despair.

He sobs helplessly, hating himself for losing control in front of Kakashi again but completely unable to stop it. It's just too much. Kakashi hugs him tighter, letting his ride the worst of his pain without talking, his presence comforting enough.

Iruka knows then he might never get everything he wants, but for now he'll take what he can get. Even if it's just pity, it will have to do.

For now, it's enough.

…

8.

Iruka is 24 and he's had enough.

It's not about the fight they had, the very public and embarrassing fight they had that morning, though it was exactly that which has given Iruka de courage to do this.

He can't be selfless anymore. He wants it all or he'll have nothing.

"I knew I'd find you here," Kakashi says entering the room, their room in Haven.

"Yes," Iruka says shortly, staring intently at Kakashi. They've developed a way of learning each other's mood through the years, and the fact that Kakashi has not removed his mask the second the door was closed tells Iruka everything he needs to ask.

Kakashi is still angry.

"You always come here when you're upset," Kakashi says leaning against the closed door, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I know."

"I'm not backing down, Iruka," Kakashi says and his tone is final. "They're ready."

"I know," he repeats, and he can see Kakashi relaxing finally. "It's not that what I'm upset about."

It was in the morning but he's had the time to think about it since then. Kakashi might seem lazy and relaxed and too much of a bully to be a good teacher, but Iruka knows better than anyone that's just a façade.

"I lost control this morning, I should have trusted your judgement better," he says in a low voice, his eyes fixed on Kakashi's. "It's difficult to let go of them and trust someone else, but I shouldn't have challenged your authority like that before everyone in the village. That humiliation I brought upon myself. That's what upsets me, that loss of control."

Kakashi is silent, a slight nod his only response.

"But that's made me realize something," Iruka continues. "I can't do this anymore."

That gets a response for the other man.

"What do you mean you can't do this anymore?" Kakashi asks, his voice harsh. "What is this?

"This," Iruka moves his hands encompassing the whole room, "I won't be coming to Haven again. I hate this place, I hate this room."

"You do?"

"Yes. This is a place of desperation, a sad and sorrowful place for mourning. I don't need to come anymore. I haven't for a long time."

And that's the truth. He still goes to Haven so frequently he knows everyone of the regulars and they know him. Most of the times he offers comfort instead of receiving it while he waits. Sometimes he waits for nothing, and he hates that he has no control over it.

Kakashi narrows his eye, a hard look in them, and pushes off the door advancing toward Iruka. "But you're here."

"I am," he says wearily, "and if you don't know the reason then this conversation has no point."

"I might be a genius, Iruka," Kakashi says slowly, danger dripping of every word, "but I still can't read minds. Why do you come here if you hate it?"

"Why?" Iruka asks incredulously, "Are you being deliberately obtuse, Kakashi? How can I see you if not here?"

"We live in the same village, you can see me outside. You do see me outside."

Iruka throws his hands heavenwards in exasperation, rolling his eyes. "No I can't. Outside there is Sharingan Kakashi, the Copy-Nin. And yes, I can see him, if I ever wanted to. You know that's not what I mean."

"Explain it to me then," Kakashi says slowly, as if talking to a moron.

He takes a deep breath to calm down. If he's going to do it he needs to keep his wits about him and not let Kakashi goad him into losing his temper.

All or nothing.

"We've been doing this for ten years, I can't do it anymore. I'm sick of playing this game where I break and you comfort me. I'm not that weak and you must know it by now."

He can see the moment the tension leaves Kakashi, the meaning of his words reaching him.

"Iruka," Kakashi begins and Iruka shakes his head, interrupting him.

"No, take that bloody mask off first."

There is a moment of silence, heavy with possibilities. Which way things will go, Iruka can't tell. Not yet. Kakashi pulls his mask down then, his lips curled into a smile and the very room seems to heave a relieved sigh.

"Iruka," Kakashi says, "I still don't read minds. You have to tell me."

And Iruka knows then, he knows for the first time he might not have been the only one caught in the tide. Both of them are fools.

"What do you want, Iruka?" Kakashi asks seriously, his attention focused sorely on him.

"Everything. I want everything."

And he's going to get it, he knows this in the way Kakashi closes the last feet between the two of them, the way his lips close over Iruka's, the kiss gentler than any they've shared before, the way Kakashi's hands encircle his waist possessively.

"Let's go return the key," Kakashi says when they break the kiss, the need for air forcing them to. "We don't need it anymore. We'll continue this at home."

Iruka nods, smiling, looking around the room for one last time. So many things have happened there, but he's not sorry to leave it behind.

When they leave Haven neither of them look back.

…

Bleach Fic Spanish: Hombre Muerto

Thu, 18 Jun 2009 21:03:45 GMT

Titulo: Hombre Muerto
Autor: aviss
Pareja: Grimmjow/Ichigo
Clasificación: NC-17
Avisos: Violencia
Disclaimer: No es mío y todo eso que ya sabemos
Notas: Traducción de fic Dead Man Walking para juanita_star que se quejaba que no traducíamos fics de manga. La traducción que te prometí (Into the Fire) esta casi terminada también.

Hombre Muerto

- La decisión es final, Kurosaki-kun.

Y también lo era el tono de las palabras de Yamamoto-soutaichou. Había sabido desde el principio que era una causa perdida; eso no quería decir fuese a aceptarlo o a ceder sin pelear.

- No es justo, - insistió, sus puños apretados con fuerza a sus lados, su expresión obstinada y desafiante, - él me salvó, ¿nos ayudó a derrotar a Aizen y así es como se lo agradecemos?

El anciano le miró con algo parecido a la lastima por un instante, lo que hizo que Ichigo se enfadase aun mas.

- Kurosaki-kun, no le hagas ser un santo. Te salvo la vida para poder luchar contigo, y nos ayudo contra Aizen solo para salvar su vida.
- Para lo que le ha servido, - murmuró Ichigo, pero no había nada que pudiese decir para negar eso.
- Esta decidido, el Espada Grimmjow Jaggerjack será ejecutado mañana por la mañana. La decisión no esta en mis manos, Kurosaki-kun, pero me asegurare personalmente de que sea llevada a cabo. - El anciano levantó una mano para detener su protesta y se giró, dejando a Ichigo hirviendo de furia y sintiéndose extrañamente vacío.

Se dio media vuelta y se fue.

Renji y Rukia le estaban esperando a la salida de la Primera División.

- ¿Qué tal ha ido? - preguntó Rukia. Ichigo simplemente sacudió la cabeza. A su alrededor el ruido y las risas de cientos de Shinigami celebrando el final de la Guerra de Invierno llego a niveles ensordecedores haciendo que a Ichigo le hirviera la sangre. No había nada que celebrar.
- Vamos, - Renji le cogió del brazo y le arrastró a alguna parte. Ichigo no estaba interesado en ir a ninguna fiesta, pero siguió a Renji sin preguntar, su mente volviendo a lo injusto de las leyes de la Sociedad de Almas.

Si, Grimmjow era un Espada, un Hollow. Era un enemigo y, como tal, tenia que ser ejecutado. Más que eso, era una bestia sanguinaria la mayoría del tiempo, pero el único que tenia que preocuparse por ello era Ichigo. Era contra él que Grimmjow quería pelear, nadie mas necesitaba ser molestado.

Pero la Sociedad de Almas no veía las cosas así.

No se dio cuenta que habían llegado a su destino hasta que se chocó contra Renji.

- ¿Dónde…? - Ichigo miró de nuevo, agradeciendo a quien fuese que estaba a cargo ahí arriba por tener amigos como Renji y Rukia.

Hitsugaya estaba esperando frente a la Décima División, una mirada de impaciencia en su rostro.

- Tienes una hora, Kurosaki, - dijo apartándose para que Ichigo pudiese entrar en el edificio. - No me importa lo que hagas ahí dentro. Sellaré el lugar dentro de una hora, independientemente de quien este en la celda.

Asintió. - Gracias Toushirou.

- Es Hitsugaya-taichou.

Ichigo ignoró la habitual protesta y entró. Casi esperaba que la celda estuviese vacía, y se decepcionó al ver que Grimmjow no se había marchado cuando tuvo oportunidad.

Grimmjow levantó la vista cuando entró. - Sabia que vendrías, Shinigami, - dijo desde su posición en la cama.

- ¿Por qué estas aun aquí, Grimmjow? Te van a ejecutar mañana.
- Lo se. - Grimmjow se levantó. - Tenemos tiempo para pelear.

El control de Ichigo se rompió de forma prácticamente audible. - ¿Qué? ¿Quieren matarte y tú quieres pelear? ¿Eres un puto idiota, Grimmjow?

Grimmjow sonrió sarcásticamente, - No van a matarme, Shinigami.

- Si que lo harán. ¡Y deja de llamarme así!
- Pelea conmigo entonces, mátame tú si puedes.

Ichigo no podía creerse lo que estaba oyendo. ¿Había estado discutiendo con Yamamoto durante horas para salvar la vida del idiota y lo único que se le ocurría decir era eso?

- Estas loco, - dijo, de repente no quería estar mas con él en la habitación. Se giró para marcharse, era una perdida de tiempo. ¿Si a Grimmjow no le preocupaba, porque tendría que preocuparse Ichigo?

No llegó muy lejos. Grimmjow le bloqueaba el paso, su expresión seria por primera vez desde que Ichigo recordaba.

- Si me quieren muerto, Ichigo, estoy muerto, - dijo, - no importando donde vaya. No puedo volver a Hueco Mundo y me encontraran en cualquier otra parte. Mátame tú. Prefiero caer luchando contra ti que esperar a que me ejecuten ellos.

Ichigo cerró los ojos tomando aliento profundamente. Sabía que Grimmjow tenía razón, pero aun así… - No es justo, - dijo.

- La justicia no tiene nada que ver con esto, Ichigo. Deberías saberlo. - ¿Y necesitaba Grimmjow mirarle con lastima también? Él era el que estaba condenado a muerte, ¿Por qué era Ichigo el único que se sentía mal por ello?
- Podrías marcharte, Hitsugaya te ha dejado una salida, - dijo. Se había sorprendido al ver que algunos de los Shinigami, algunos de sus amigos, también opinaban que la sentencia era injusta.
- No. No me pasare el resto de mi vida escondido o huyendo. Pelea contra mí.
- No.

Grimmjow le agarro de la pechera de su shihakuso y le estampó contra la pared, su rostro a escasos centímetros del de Ichigo. - ¡Pelea!

- Que te jodan Grimmjow. No quiero. ¡Vámonos de aquí!
- ¿A donde? No lo pillas, Ichigo, - Grimmjow le estaba mirando con esa extraña expresión de nuevo, para mayor irritación de Ichigo. - No soy un cobarde. No voy a huir. Además, si hubieses terminado nuestra última pelea como debías esto no estaría sucediendo.

Eso fue la gota que colmó el vaso; furioso, Ichigo aparto a Grimmjow de un empujón. - Discúlpame por no haberte matado, cabrón. Sabes que, quédate aquí y espera a que Yamamoto o quien sea te mate si tantas ganas tienes de morir. Yo no tengo tiempo para ti.

Grimmjow le bloqueo el camino de nuevo. - ¿Para que has venido si no es para luchar conmigo? ¿Para consolarme? No lo necesito.

Era el turno de Ichigo de mirarle mal. - Lo se.

Grimmjow cerró la distancia entre los dos, parándose frente a él, sus cuerpos casi tocándose. - ¿Por qué has venido, Ichigo? - Grimmjow se acerco más, su aliento acariciando el rostro de Ichigo. Cerró los ojos, inclinándose hacia delante de forma casi inconsciente.

- No lo… - sus palabras se perdieron en un suspiro cuando la boca de Grimmjow toco su oreja.
- Déjame follarte, Ichigo. Esa es la razón por la que estas aquí, no para pelear si no para follar. ¿Tengo razón?

Los ojos de Ichigo se abrieron de golpe; se quedo mirando sin ver la pared y contuvo el aliento.

- Si, - susurró finalmente.
- Bien.

Grimmjow le empujo hacia atrás hasta que sus rodillas dieron contra el camastro; Ichigo se tumbó sobre este, Grimmjow subiéndose encima de su cuerpo inmediatamente.

Aun no estaba seguro que eso fuese lo que quería, pero parecía que su cuerpo si lo sabia por la forma en que respondía a los labios en su cuello y las manos en su torso. Ichigo se arqueó, tratando de conseguir mas contacto mientras Grimmjow lamia un camino hasta su clavícula. Era raro ser tratado con tanta gentileza, y no era para nada lo que necesitaba.

- Grimmjow, - dijo roncamente, - no te atrevas a volverte blando solo porque seas hombre muerto.

Una risotada. - ¿Lo quieres brusco, Ichigo?

- Si. Haz que duela.

Dios, estaba muy enfermo. Pero iba a ser la última vez: no quería ningún recuerdo gentil de Grimmjow, ni necesitaba los extraños sentimientos que esos besos estaban despertando en su cuerpo. Quería que fuese como siempre había sido: doloroso, crudo y violento. Justo como tenia que ser entre ellos.

- Será un placer.

Fue todo dientes y uñas y manos bruscas y besos hirientes y sangre después de eso. Ichigo respondió con una intensidad sorprendente, mordiendo y arañando y agarrándose al cuerpo de Grimmjow. No le importó cuando su hakama fue arrancada de su cuerpo, la fricción de la tela contra la ropa quemándole. Araño la camisa de Grimmjow y la tiró al suelo, el resto de sus ropas siguiéndola inmediatamente.

Agarró la cabeza de Grimmjow y tiro hacia abajo para otro beso brutal, dándoles la vuelta e la cama y sujetándole ahí con su cuerpo, sus manos tocando todo lo que alcanzaban, sentado a horcajadas sobre Grimmjow.

- ¿Vas a follarme o cabalgarme, Ichigo? - Grimmjow preguntó con una sonrisa en su voz.

No le dio la oportunidad de contestar, o siquiera de decidir que iba a hacer. Las manos de Grimmjow agarraron sus caderas y le guiaron, posicionándole sobre él y empujando hacia abajo, penetrándole en un doloroso, brutal embate.

Ichigo se quedo rígido, su cuerpo congelándose en agonía.

- ¡Joder!
- Querías que doliese, ¿no?

Ichigo tomó aliento y asintió, mirándole furioso. La sonrisa de Grimmjow se ensanchó.

Ichigo se inclinó hacia delante cerrando su boca sobre la de Grimmjow y mordiendo con fuerza. Grimmjow empujó hacia arriba, aun sujetando sus caderas, y comenzó a moverse rápidamente.

Sabía que no tenían mucho tiempo, Hitsugaya podía volver en cualquier momento y la idea de que les pillasen así no era muy atractiva, así que no se contuvo, cabalgando a Grimmjow con furia, su mente centrada solo en el psicótico Espada bajo su cuerpo y el place que probablemente le estaba esperando en algún lugar en mitad de todo ese dolor.

Y finalmente ahí estaba. La mano de Grimmjow se cerrño sobre su miembro y comenzó a acariciarle al ritmo de sus embistes; Ichigo gruñó, bajando con más fuerza y más rápido, tenso de deseo y necesidad.

Se corrió con un aullido, Grimmjow aun excitado dentro de él, su energía gastada. Se encontró de nuevo de espaldas sobre el camastro, Grimmjow embistiendo con fuerza mientras él trataba de coger aliento.

Casi ni notó cuando Grimmjow se corrió, su cuerpo insensible por el dolor y el cansancio.

- Ha estado bien, Ichigo. Tenemos que repetirlo. - Las palabras de Grimmjow le devolvieron a la realidad y le lanzó una mirada venenosa, demasiado cansado para hacer nada más.

Ichigo se levantó cuidadosamente de la cama y recogió su ropa, poniéndosela de nuevo y arreglándola lo mejor que pudo.

- Hitsugaya y los demás llegaran en breve, tengo que irme, - dijo sin mirar a Grimmjow. - Adiós.

Salió de la habitación preguntándose porque se sentía tan vacío cuando debería alegrarse de no volver a ver al cabrón.

Rukia y Renji estaban esperándole fuera cuando salió y ambos le miraron preocupados al ver el estado en que se encontraba.

- ¡Ichigo! ¿Qué ha sucedido ahí dentro? - Rukia preguntó, acercándose a él solo para ser detenida por la mano de Renji sobre su brazo.
- ¿Habéis peleado? - preguntó Renji arqueando una ceja tatuada.

Ichigo se preguntó que aspecto tendría. Probablemente habría bastante sangre en su ropa y piel, casi como si hubiese salido de una pelea. Sonrió sin humor.

- No. Estábamos celebrando. Nuestra oscura celebración privada.

…

Ichigo miró el techo de de su habitación pensando morosamente en lo mismo una y otra vez.

Era casi mediodía.

Grimmjow estaba probablemente muerto ya.

Se había marchado de la Sociedad de Almas durante la noche, no queriendo quedarse para la ejecución. Incluso si no había nada que pudiese hacer para evitarla no pensaba quedarse a mirar. O intentaría hacer algo estúpido.

Era mejor si se alejaba lo más posible de la Sociedad de Almas y sus ridículas leyes.

Una llamada en su ventana le devolvió al presente, y se giró para abrirla esperando ver a Renji o a Rukia con las noticias.

No esperaba ver a Grimmjow vivo, mas o menos, y sonriendo con sorna.

- ¿Qué?
- ¿Te alegras de verme, Shinigami?

Ichigo se le quedo mirando boquiabierto, el aliento atascado en su garganta. Se alegraba de verle, aunque nunca lo admitiría.

- ¿Cómo… por qué…?

Grimmjow entró de un salto en la habitación, sentándose en la cama sin esperar a ser invitado.

Ichigo se movió también hacia la cama y se dejó caer, extendiendo una mano inconscientemente para tocar a Grimmjow, para asegurarse que realmente estaba allí.

- No lo entiendo.

Grimmjow sonrió, - Ayer, antes de que aparecieses, uno de los shinigamis amigos tuyos me dijo que iban a apelar a la Cámara Central. Dijo algo de una deuda y de luchar contra leyes injustas.

Ichigo parpadeó. ¿No estaría hablando de Byakuya?

- Se sorprendió bastante al no verte allí hoy para la apelación, pero les convenció que no era una amenaza para nadie más que tú. Me han expulsado de la Sociedad de Almas, como si tuviese algún interés en ir allí. Así que estaré viviendo aquí de ahora en adelante, ya que no puedo regresar tampoco Hueco Mundo.

Pero Ichigo no estaba prestando atención a lo que decía.

Antes de que aparecieses.

- Lo sabias, - dijo mirándole con furia.
- Te dije que no me ejecutarían. - La sonrisa de Grimmjow era enfurecedora, y Ichigo se dio cuenta de lo muy idiota que había sido la noche anterior dejandole hacerle lo que le dio la gana.
- ¡Cabrón! Lo sabias y aun así tú… - las palabras le fallaban. ¡Y había estado preocupado por Grimmjow! Se acercó a él, el sordo dolor en la parte baja de su cuerpo recordándole las actividades de la noche anterior y haciendo que le hirviese la sangre. - ¡Grimmjow! - rugió.

Grimmjow se rió, levantándose de la cama y moviéndose hacia la ventana.

- ¿Estas lo bastante furioso para pelear ahora, Shinigami?

Se marchó de un salto, aun riéndose, dejando a Ichigo mudo durante un segundo. Cuando las palabras entraron en su mente Ichigo se levantó y fue detrás de él, su espada ya en sus manos.

- ¡Te voy a matar, Grimmjow!

…

Bleach fic: Storm Front - Part IV

Sun, 14 Jun 2009 16:12:52 GMT

Title: Storm Front - Part IV
Author: aviss
Pairing: Grimmjow/Ichigo
Rating: PG-13 this part
Genre: Action, Adventure
Warning: Violence
Disclaimer: Bleach and its characters belong to Kubo Tite, as everyone already knows.
Summary: While investigating the disappearance of a group of shinigami Ichigo discovers not everything they told him about the end of the war is true.
Word Count: ~2.250

Prologue - A Storm is Brewing
Part I - The Calm Before the Storm
Part II - Storm Clouds
Part III - Thunderstom

Part IV - The Eye of the Storm

It takes them almost another hour to finally find Nell, and by the time they do only the sight of the infant arrancar, still alive and masked, is able to calm Ichigo down.

Nell is asleep, drooling slightly and curled in a corner of her cage. The broken mask is still on her head and nothing seems wrong with her at first sight, if one ignores the fact that she is caged and dirty, her clothes filthy from months locked in that fucking place.

They've seen no sign of more arrancar of hollows being kept there, and somehow Ichigo doubts they will find any. If what he suspects is true they are probably already dead.

"We need to get her out of here," Renji says, his voice barely audible.

They have climbed up and down for so long Ichigo is not sure they will be able to find their way out again, and he has to wonder at the fact they didn't find another shinigami while they were searching.

Something is wrong.

A small burst of Kidou us enough to break the cage door, startling Nell awake.

"Ichigo?" she says looking at him with her eyes full of hope, only to close them again, a sigh which doesn’t belong in such a young one falling from her lips. "No, another dream."

It breaks Ichigo's heart to hear her sound so defeated. She must have been waiting for him for a long time, finally deciding he would only rescue her in her dreams.

"Nell," he whispers, opening the door and placing his hand on her shoulder.

She stirs again, looking at him and blinking to dispel the last remnants of the dream. "Ichigo!" She gasps, launching herself at him and bursting out in tears as soon as her arms encircle his neck. "It's you, Ichigo! It's finally you!"

Ichigo hugs her tightly, his throat closing with so many things he wants to tell her. She doesn’t have to worry anymore, he's there to get her out, nothing will happen to her--but he can't, there is something in him whispering that things have been too easy, too quick. He's learned to trust his instinct the hard way in this.

"Let's go," he says over Nell's head, looking at Renji, "I want to be out of this fucking sick place as soon as possible."

Nell and Peshe are what matters now; he can come back and take care of Kurotsuchi and his division later.

They cross empty rooms and dark corridors on their way back, taking much less time now they know there is nothing else for them to find. Peshe is still staring into space in his cage, and Renji takes care of opening his door and gently knocking him out to prevent his screaming before grabbing him, nose scrunching at the foul smell.

Ichigo has never been more grateful to see light and smell fresh air as when they exit the tunnel into Urahara's old training place. He sighs relieved, they are out.

"We'll rest for a minute," he says turning to Renji who's emerging from the darkness behind him, "And then we're going straight to Unohana. I don't care--"

He never finishes his sentence. Ichigo sees how Renji's eyes widen comically, an expression of surprised horror in his face before he can feel the reiatsu and his head snaps back, staring straight ahead at a cero blast rushing towards them.

There is no time to release his sword and deflect it. There is barely time to dodge, trying to keep his hold in Nell, and curse loudly when he regains his feet, unharmed. Renji is not so lucky, Peshe's dead weight making it impossible for him to get out of the way fast enough. Ichigo sees horrified how he jumps, the powerful blast glancing him and slamming him against a rock. Renji and Peshe crumble to the ground.

He looks at the one attacking him, way too freaked out by the day's events to even register surprise at what he's seeing.

"Grimmjow, you fucker!" he shouts letting his body and mouth react before his mind catches up with what's really going on.

Yes Grimmjow is there, standing on thin air with his hand extended after shooting the cero, but there is something strange about him. He's not talking, not taunting Ichigo, not moving to attack again now he has the advantage. Everything he's seeing tells Ichigo that's not really Grimmjow.

Not the Grimmjow he knows.

Nell is crying in his arms, scared and probably shocked by the suddenness of the attack. Ichigo takes another look at Grimmjow, who's still staring at him from afar, and moves to Renji, checking his friend's condition.

Renji stirs and looks at him through clouded eyes, "What--?"

"Stay here," Ichigo says, depositing Nell next to him and releasing his zanpakutou, going straight into bankai form as he jumps away from his friends.

Closer up he sees a lot more things are wrong with Grimmjow: for one the look in his eyes is not the bloodthirsty one Ichigo associates with him. Grimmjow is staring at him in something like horror, his eyes darting from Ichigo to a place behind him even as he parries Ichigo's blows with his sword. Also, his movements are jerky and lack the grace Ichigo knows Grimmjow possess, it feels as if he is moving against his will and Urahara's words echo in his mind.

A puppet.

The puppeteer must be close by.

He sees Grimmjow splaying his hand and barely has the time to call forth his mask and deflect the cero when something slams against his back, the pain making his vision blur for an instant.

"The fuck!" he mutters under his breath, turning to see Renji standing again, Zabimaru released in his hand and the sharp points of the sword shining red with Ichigo's blood. The look in Renji's eyes mirrors Grimmjow's and Ichigo curses loudly. "Kurotsuchi, you sick fucker, come out where I can kill you!"

He feels a swell of anger inside him at the laugh that answers his command, and he looks wildly around, trying to find the source. He can't, Grimmjow and Renji attacking at the same time and forcing him to go on the defensive.

It's a fight he has no hope to win, not unless he wants to hurt both his friend and the guy he was trying to help, so Ichigo has no other choice than to keep dodging and parrying, moving out of harm's way in the last second and hope Rukia comes back with reinforcements soon.

It's not easy, though. Both Grimmjow and Renji are powerful enemies and it's taking a lot of effort to keep himself from doing real damage to them, not to mention the fact that he's losing control of his hollow, his temper already too close to snapping point even before Renji was involved in the fight.

"I'm going to kill you, Kurotsuchi," he declares loudly, hoping that the fucking psycho will make a move to reveal his position.

He doesn’t, the next words he hears are coming from Renji's mouth, though it's clear it's not him the one speaking them. "I was waiting for you, Kurosaki-kun. I knew you wouldn't disappoint me."

It's weird to hear those words in Renji's voice, and so very wrong Ichigo almost misses the meaning behind them. He blocks a hit from Grimmjow's sword with Zangetsu, delivering a sharp kick to Grimmjow's middle and putting some distance between them. "What are you talking about, Kurotsuchi?" he says turning in time to see Renji attacking, avoiding being hit by a hair's breadth.

"I reached an impasse with my experiment," Renji's voice answer him even as Renji's body blocks a hit, moving fast to the other side of the training area and collecting reiatsu to release his bankai. Ichigo curses loudly and follows, attacking barehanded for an instant to try and delay the release. If Renji goes bankai there is no way he can avoid harming him. "The hollows and arrancar I had were too low level to be of any use for me, I needed stronger test subjects. But I was loath to use the Espada and former Espada without knowing if they were going to give me the results I wanted. They are not easy specimens to find, you know."

"You're a sick fuck, Kurotsuchi," Ichigo spits, feeling disgusted just hearing those words. He can still see in his mind Peshe's condition when they found him.

He connects a punch to Renji's stomach and follows it with a kick, knowing it's not enough but hoping it will at least give him a few seconds to regroup. He's losing it fast, the other's voice in his head growing in volume and becoming more and more insistent.

"And besides," the fucker continues, this time through Grimmjow's mouth, and Ichigo realizes just how close the Espada is to him now. "I needed the Espada to lure out my perfect specimen." Grimmjow shots a cero and Ichigo barely has time to block it, being pushed backwards by the force of the blast, his back connecting painfully with an outcrop of rock.

The pain explodes in his back, making his vision blur for a second and his mask to break.

"What do you mean?" he asks, winded, though he is sure he knows the answer.

"You, Kurosaki-kun," Kurotsuchi says, and this time it's his own voice Ichigo is hearing.

And it's too close for comfort.

He doesn’t have the time to react; he barely has the time to feel the sting at the nape of his neck before he realizes he's fallen into the trap. His body freezes as he's turning, his limbs locking and almost making him lose his balance.

No way, he thinks panicked, but he knows he's been had. Kurotsuchi has been playing with him since the beginning, all that time he has been after Ichigo, using everything and everyone to get to him.

Well, not exactly him. The hollow inside him, Ichigo is not so naïve as to believe Kurotsuchi was referring to anything else when he was talking about a perfect specimen.

And he has played straight into his hand.

Ichigo curses inwardly, struggling against the force holding in him place even though he knows it's useless. But he has to; he can't be rendered helpless, not here, not with people he cares about so close by.

He knows the consequences of losing control; he can still remember Orihime's and Ishida's face after that one time, but there is nothing he can do anymore, Kurotsuchi wanted the hollow and he's about to get it.

Ichigo can only hope now the reinforcements come before it's too late.

…

That's a very bad move; Grimmjow realizes the moment Kurosaki stops moving, his entire body freezing mid-lunge and his eyes widening at the realization of what's happening.

He has been observing the fight from the inside, his fury at not being able to control his movements and attacks growing by the second. Not that he has any qualms attacking the shinigami, but he'd much rather be the one doing the attacking not a tool used for someone else's fight.

The only thing Grimmjow is in control right now is his own mind, even his voice has been stolen by the masked freak, much in the same way the other shinigami is being used. He is aware Kurosaki has not been fighting them seriously, and that's his mistake.

Kurotsuchi doesn't know the force he's unleashing, he has never seen it or battled against it. Grimmjow has, and so has the other shinigami, and he can tell just how screwed they are seeing the fear mirrored in his eyes.

Kurosaki closes his eyes slowly, almost unwillingly, and when he opens them they are black and completely inhuman, a horned mask already taking shape around Kurosaki's head.

"Yes, this is what I need," Kurotsuchi says from behind Kurosaki, finally appearing in full view now his goal is achieved.

Grimmjow would laugh if he could utter any kind of sound. Fucking moron doesn’t know he won't be able to control the monster. No one can.

"You," the thing says hollowly, his voice echoing off the rock walls, and turns to face Kurotsuchi.

Grimmjow can see the transformation is almost complete, in barely a couple of seconds Kurosaki's head has been entirely covered by the mask, his orange hair growing impossibly long and his hands and feet turning into claws.

It's a vision to behold, and Grimmjow had wanted to be the one to break Kurosaki's control and face this monster, even if it cost him his life. He had been more than prepared to end like that, fighting this powerful thing the way it was always supposed to be.

But not like this.

It would be funny if they weren't so completely fucked up; Kurotsuchi looks at the monster, surprise and, for the first time, fear in his expression.

"You're not supposed to move," Kurotsuchi says, using his shunpo to get away from the danger. "I put the seal in you; you can't control your body."

High Speed Regeneration. Ulquiorra had it, and apparently Kurosaki's hollow has it as well. The seal isn't working, that much is clear.

That fucking freak has unleashed something he can't control.

And they are all going to die because of him.

…

Part V - Wheathering the Storm (soon)

Sat, 13 Jun 2009 21:32:39 GMT

Dear Remixer,

Just a couple of words because I know my way of archiving might be confusing. Everything is in my memories listed under fandom name and also in the springkink tag. Except for the "safe story" which is in the RK fic you can pick anything at all, I don't have any preference for rating, pairing or fandom. Just go wild and have fun!

Fandom meme

Sat, 13 Jun 2009 16:53:58 GMT

I saw this in starcrossedgirl's journal and couldn't help myself, this is one of those memes yoou have to love :)

Comment to this entry and I'll pick up to three of your fandoms. You must then update your journal and answer the following questions:

1. What got you into this fandom in the first place?
2. Do you think you'll stay in this fandom or eventually move on?
3. Favourite episodes/books/movies, etc?
4. Do you participate in this fandom (fanfiction, graphics, discussions)?
5. Do you think more people should get into this fandom?

So she gave me Bleach, HP and Heroes.

Bleach

1. Well, I started reading this manga when I didn't know shit about fandom and I loved it. I mean, what is there not to love? Hot guys (ok, manga guys, but hot anyway) with big swords and kicking ass all the time. It was natural that once I've gotten involved in fandom I would look in this direction and search for the Bleach fandom. It took me some years, but once I got into it it's difficult to get out.

2. I'm not sure, because I'm one of those people who can't stay still for long, but I think I'm here to stay, which is a good things since just today I got it a Bleach tattoo and I would hate to fall out of love with something so permanent. I mean, there are just too many characters I love in the manga and there is no way I get tired of them. If a ppairing starts getting boring there are like a thousand more, and the fandom is pretty active, so there is always oportunity to find something new.

3. Right, the Pendulum Arc is right there at he top of the list, though Hitsugaya vs Gin fight and the Ichigo vs Byakuya are some of my favorites. And anything with Grimmjow in it, even if it becomes boring like the Grimmjow vs Ichigo fight, if it has Grimm in it, I'll love it.

4. Do I ever... it's the fandom I'm most active in. I don't know how many fics I've written for this fandom, but more than 50 for sure, and I keep getting ideas for something new every now and then (or every single day, more likely). I'm also and editor in the dayly newsletter for the fandom and even try to draw, though I suck big time.

5. Yes, of course. The more the merrier! Though I have to draw the line in 12 year old girls Mary Sue-ing their arses into the fandom... they can stay out.

Harry Potter

1. Sirius' death. Yeah, I know it sounds stupid, but it was what pushed me into the HP fandom. I had recently discovered fandom (with manga shows) when the 5th book was released and after reading it... well, Sirius was my favorite character and I didn't like the fact that he had kicked the bucket, so since I knew the existence of fanfiction by that time I looked for it. It completely sucked me in, to the point that what I remember the most about that summer is the ammount of fic I read.

2. I've already kind of moved on... not completely, but it's been a long time since I was as involved as in the beginning.

3. My favorite book is PoA. It't the one where it stopped being a children's book for me, it became darker and a hell lot more interesting.

4. Some, I write fic (not many and mostly in spanish) and I used to trasnlate fic as well. Mostly I just keep in touch with the people I met thanks to it and squee over new films and plan things.

5. Into this one? there are already enough people, but yes, why not? As I said, the more the merrier.

Heroes

1. Well, the show. I loved the first season, and the second one, though a bit dissapointing was still very good. I haven't touched the fandom except for a few fics here and there, it's difficult to improve what was already so good.

2. Not really, I haven't watched the third season.

3. When Peter saves Claire, I love that moment. And later, when Claire's father tells him his name. that one had me squeeing out loud. You just have to love Noah.

4. No, not really.

5. In this case it doens't matter much to me since I don't participate in fandom. Watch the show? Yeah, I think it's a good show and more people should watch it, but the fandom part... *shrugs*.

Bleach fic: Storm Front - Part III

Fri, 05 Jun 2009 20:44:57 GMT

Title: Storm Front - Part III
Author: aviss
Pairing: Grimmjow/Ichigo
Rating: PG-13 this part
Genre: Action, Adventure
Warning: Violence
Disclaimer: Bleach and its characters belong to Kubo Tite, as everyone already knows.
Summary: While investigating the disappearance of a group of shinigami Ichigo discovers not everything they told him about the end of the war is true.
Word Count: ~2.400

Prologue - A Storm is Brewing
Part I - The Calm Before the Storm
Part II - Storm Clouds

Part III - Thunderstorm

"It's a neurological block."

Ichigo is sitting with Renji and Rukia in Urahara's shop, all of them drinking tea from the small cups while Urahara Kisuke talks. He's told them everything he learned from Orihime, including the flower mark on Grimmjow's neck. Urahara was startled at first hearing about it, and he's now the one explaining the meaning of it.

"It resembles the reiatsu limiters they put in Taichous and Fukutaichous when they come to earth, only it works differently," Urahara says holding their attention and making small gestures with his hands. He's not touched his own cup of tea, and there is a worried frown etched on his forehead. Ichigo has rarely seen this serious side of him. "It's put here," Urahara touches the base of his neck, "and it controls the impulses sent from the brain to the body, effectively making the person wearing it a puppet in someone else's hands."

"How do you know all that?" Rukia asks, her face showing the disgust Ichigo feels at those words.

Urahara shrugs, "I created it."

"You?" Ichigo narrows his eyes, he should have guessed. Every single one of Urahara's old creations seem to come back to haunt Ichigo.

"It was a mistake. I was researching something to help the treatment of injured shinigami during missions, something that would help relieve the pain until the 4th Division was able to help them," Urahara explains slowly, "the theory was to create a barrier between the nerve's response to pain and the brain, that way the shinigami affected would not feel it."

Renji's staring at him with a disbelieving expression, "That's exactly the opposite of what you just said."

Another shrug, this time accompanied with a self-depreciating smile. "I know. The only thing I managed to achieve was blocking the brain impulse to the nerves, not the other way round. The body becomes paralyzed but they can still feel everything. Pretty screwed up if you ask me."

"It is," Ichigo agrees. The more he knows about that thing the angrier he becomes, somehow he feels like taking it all out on Urahara, though he is sure this time he's not the one to blame.

"My fukutaichou at the time told me loud and clear--I had the print of her sandal on my face for a week--what she thought of that. I had to agree with it. The research was never released and I forgot about it until now."

"Obviously Kurotshuchi found it and put it to good use," Rukia says.

"Are you sure it was the 12th Division insignia?" Urahara asks again. He refused to believe them at the beginning but now he looks almost convinced.

"Yes."

"Fine, I'll help you with this."

…

That the concealed entry to the Research Institute is at Urahara's old training place is no big surprise for anyone, Ichigo had guessed that much on his own, but they would have never found it without Urahara's instructions. No matter what else the guy is, he is very smart.

"So what's the plan?" Rukia asks quietly, her voice barely carrying a couple of feet in the dimly lit passage.

"I'll know when we get there," Ichigo replies in the same tone. It's better than saying there is no plan, which is the absolute truth. He just knows he needs to be there, see what's happening in the 12th.

It's not only Grimmjow, there were other arrancar killed--or kidnapped it seems--that day in Hueco Mundo: Nell, Peshe, Dondonchakka and who knows how many more. Grimmjow can take care of himself, he has escaped after all, is the others which have Ichigo worried right now.

The corridor seems to go on forever, the darkness and the light shuffle of feet on loose earth combining to give Ichigo a feeling of claustrophobia. Or maybe it's just a feeling of foreboding at what he might find on the other side.

After what feels like an eternity the corridor opens to a slightly wider chamber, Renji, Rukia and Ichigo stopping there to look for the hidden door. It's not so easy to find, even with Urahara's instructions, and Ichigo can feel his patience wearing thin after ten minutes of fruitless search. He's too tightly strung, the last day's events repeating in his head over and over again. He should have known, he should have guessed, he shouldn't have allowed something like that to happen.

He has a bad feeling about what he's going to find on the other side of that door, if they ever manage to find the fucking door, that's it.

"Finally," Renji's voice brings Ichigo attention back to the present, looking to where a small rectangle of darkness has appeared on one of the walls.

The first thing that hits Ichigo is the smell, rank and putrid so very wrong it makes him almost retch. He can see in his friend's eyes, even in the dim light, the same revulsion. It's not they have never seen or smelled death, he can say they are all pretty much inured to it, but this--just the smell alone is enough to make Ichigo's blood freeze in his veins.

It's desperation and fear and loneliness and madness and blood and pain and so many other things Ichigo can't name but he hates to associate with Nell or any of the others. With Grimmjow.

"What the fuck?" Renji says in a chocked whisper, his hand coming up reflexively to cover his mouth and nose.

Ichigo breathes deeply, nose scrunching at the revolting smell but trying to get in as much oxygen as necessary in his lungs, trying to calm down the hammering of his heart. "Let's move it," he says, entering the dark room.

The door closes behind them almost immediately, leaving them in the most absolute darkness until Rukia conjures a light with some sort of Kidou. What they see there is the stuff of nightmares.

The room is bare except for a cage in the corner and a door on the far end. The smell comes from the cage, which is not empty.

"Oh fuck!" Ichigo hears Renji saying breathlessly, his horror at what they're seeing so thick they can almost touch it. "Fucking bastard!"

Peshe, or what remains of him, is inside the cage. There are only scraps of his old clothes covering him and his mask has been removed somehow. The face that looks at them from the other side of the bars could be human, if one ignored the empty black eyes with a bare hint of yellow looking at them. No, not actually looking at them, looking past them.

"Is he alive?" Rukia asks in a low voice, a slight tremble showing how much is affecting her.

Ichigo approaches the cage and extends his hand, a cold fury writhing in his belly. He's starting to feel something--someone--inside him pushing against his restrains, and he knows he has to keep his temper in check or risk the hollow overpowering him. Peshe doesn’t move, doesn't give any indication he can see Ichigo until he touches him. He flinches then, a high pitched squeal of terror torn from his throat and filling the room.

Ichigo takes a hurried step back, the noise ceasing the moment he is not in contact with the arrancar.

"Yes, he is alive," he says through clenched teeth. His vision is narrowing and he needs to get away from that room now. Fighting against the urge to retch, Ichigo takes a calming breath and turns his back to the cage, moving to the door. "We'll come for him later; we have to find the rest."

He doesn't like leaving Peshe there, but he knows he can't get close enough to him without making him scream again, and he can't allow anyone to know they're there before they have found the rest.

The next room is empty, Rukia's faint light illuminating shelve upon shelve of strange concoctions and bottled specimens Ichigo would rather not know where they come from. On one corner two boxes, filled with papers, rest carefully on top of a chair.

Ichigo moves quickly to the door but Rukia stays for a second, looking at the boxes. "Wait," she says, taking one of the papers and scanning it quickly.

"Come on Rukia, we need to move," Renji says impatiently, his voice betraying his nervousness.

"I said wait, maybe there is something here to tell us where they are," she insists not looking up.

She has a point, but Ichigo doesn’t have the time or patience to go through all those papers. "Leave it, it would take too long to read all of them," he says crossing to the next room.

They don't find anything there, or in the next one. Only more shelves of disgusting things and more discarded papers. Ichigo is getting more and more agitated by the minute, the feeling that time is of the essence pushing him to go forward, to find something.

The find another cage in the next room, only this one is empty. The smell of decay and desperation still lingers in the air, enough for them to imagine what used to be there. Ichigo tries not to put a name to the former inhabitant of the room, and he is glad to know he can at least be certain it wasn't Grimmjow.

He can't be so sure about Nell.

"There is something here," Rukia says when they cross to the following room, her eyes moving straight away to some files neatly stacked on a shelf. Ichigo can see what drew her attention, there are names on the spines of the folders.

Test Subject 1: Hollow. No name. Deceased.

Test Subject 2: Hollow. No name. Deceased.

Test Subject 3: Hollow. No name. Deceased.

Test Subject 4: Arrancar. No name. Deceased.

Test Subject 5: Arrancar. Dondonchakka. Deceased.

He feels a shudder running down his spine reading the name and nods at Rukia inquiring stare. She takes the folder from its place and opens it, dread and revulsion plainly written on her face.

"I'll have a look, you carry on," she says, looking up quickly from the file, "I'll get you if I find something useful."

They nod and leave her to it, Renji conjuring his own kidou-light to help them with the search.

Ichigo is glad there wasn't a folder with Nell's name there, though he feels incredibly sad and angry for the other ones. Kurotsuchi is dead meat, that much is clear. But he wants to find the rest of his victims before he trashes the division, and he doesn't give a fuck what Yamamoto or the rest of Soul Society have to say about that.

"Guys!" Rukia's hushed voice reaches them and Ichigo turns to see her hurrying to them, her hands full of paper and a shocked expression on her face. "We need to get this papers to Yamamoto-soutaichou or Ukitake-taichou," she says, her voice urgent.

"What is it?" Renji asks before Ichigo can react.

"Mask Removal Day One: the subject is weak after removing his mask completely, the transformation to arrancar has not been achieved, the face is completely human and the subject has no reiatsu. Useless.

Mask Removal Day Two: The subject dies within 24 hours of the removal. It tried to speak and managed some garbled words in a strange an ancient language. Could it be possible for the Hollow to retain part of his human conscience? Might be an interesting study to take into account but for the purposes of this test is a failure.

"Fuck, that's sick!" Renji gasps, staring at Rukia wide eyed. Ichigo is feeling his control fraying, each word of that monstrosity eroding it a bit more.

"Mask Removal Day One: The subject dies immediately, the mask tearing whatever life it had from it. It looks as if it dies of shock, the pain probably too great for it. We'll try some sort of numbing agent on the next one.

"You go Rukia, go with those papers and find someone who gives a shit," Ichigo says, struggling to form coherent words with the storm of feeling stirring inside him. "Find Toushirou, of your brother, or Ukitake. Just not Yamamoto, I don't trust the geezer to do the right thing here. We'll keep searching for Nell and anyone who might be alive. Hurry."

Rukia nods once and turns around, leaving.

Ichigo almost sighs in relief. He wants the back up, that's true, but there is a reason he wants Rukia out of the 12th. He's losing it, and if the worst comes to happen he doesn’t want her anywhere near him.

Clenching his jaw he looks at Renji, who return his grim look with a nod, and they move to the next room.

…

"You still don't get it, Espada," Kurotsuchi says after a while, his voice mocking and so irritating Grimmjow wishes he could turn it off. He hates the fucking bastard with a passion. "You didn't escape; you just did what I wanted you to do."

Grimmjow struggles against the force holding him, though he knows it's useless. He has been subjected to that helpless feeling too many times to know he can't do anything. Still, he has to try; he can't just let himself be taken back to that place.

"You're just bait," Kurotsuchi continues and Grimmjow snaps back to attention, listening to his words again. He has a bad feeling. "I realized my research couldn't be completed with the specimens I had. I needed more than hollows and arrancar for what I wanted. I needed visored as well."

Grimmjow stares at him, horrified, the blood freezing in his veins. Visored. He knows what the freak means with that.

"But they are forbidden to go back to Soul Society, all except for one, and they are not good test subjects. They know too much, they are tainted by the Hogyoku. I needed another, purer specimen."

Fucking freak! Keep your hands away from him, bastard! Grimmjow wants to say, wants to shout and lunge at the freak, and tear him limb from limb. But the only thing he can do is listen to him, raging inside and thinking, Not him, he's mine.

"So you see, I let you go because I knew, the moment he realized you were still alive he'd come looking for you. I saw you two in Hueco Mundo, I knew he'd go after you." Kurotsuchi turns to look at Grimmjow, a terribly smug smile on his face-mask-whatever it is. "We have to go back now; my perfect specimen is probably already there, waiting for me."

Kurosaki.

…

Part IV - The Eye of the Stoorm

OP fic - Make a Wish

Fri, 29 May 2009 19:48:16 GMT

Title: Make a Wish
Pairing: Zoro/Sanji, Sanji/Kuina
Rating: PG for now
Genre: Adventure, Romance, Humour, AU-ish
Warnings: None
Summary: Would you change any event in your past if given the chance? How would your life be then? Zoro is about to get the answer to that question.
Disclaimer: The owner of the crack is Oda, I just like to torture his characters.
Word Count: ~2.900
Author Notes: This is me, saying I won't write another multi-chaptered fic until I finish the two already in progress. Yeah, right.
This will deviate from canon… well, basically from the start so bear with me if I confuse even myself with the timelines.

Prologue
Be Careful What You Wish For

Zoro looked at the fork on the road and wondered again if they had told him right or left. Was it up or down? He didn't remember. He tried to listen for some kind of sound coming from the correct one; for once his nakama were being quiet, an oddity in a crew which seemed the mere definition of mayhem.

With a shrug Zoro picked the right fork and kept walking.

He shouldn't have let himself get distracted by the idiot cook, and should have probably run faster when said moron took off at Nami's shouted orders. Well, there was nothing he could do now but walk and hope for it to be the right one.

If he got lost inside the caves Sanji would never let him live it down.

A few minutes later Zoro was convinced he was on the wrong path. He should, by all accounts, have already encountered either his nakama or any sign of the treasure. He had neither.

It was all that Sea-Witch's fault, as usual. There is a big treasure in Ferrumy Island, she had said, we'll find it.

She was greedy, very greedy. Treasure was the only thing she could think about, and she was always making them go off course to hunt for it. At that rate Zoro didn't know if he was ever going to catch up with Mihawk.

He knew he was being unfair, but right now he didn't care much. He was lost and was beginning to get hungry and sleepy. He was missing training and his afternoon nap, all for nothing.

A faint hint of light ahead made him speed up, hoping to catch up with his friends. He was tired of being in the dark and damp cave, and he was tired of that bloody boring island. There was nothing but caves and dumb animals in Ferrumy Island, not even a good tavern where they could spend the night and drink some booze. Just the rumours of treasure and the wild goose chase Nami had embarked them upon.

He entered a wide chamber and rolled his eyes. Maybe not such a wild goose chase after all.

It figured it had to be him the one to find the treasure when he was on his own. Chances were he'd not be able to find it again if he went looking for his nakama.

Just imagining how much the witch would raise his interest for that made him shudder.

Better wait for them to find him.

Zoro yawned widely and looked around, searching for a good spot to take a nap while he waited. The whole chamber was filled to burst with treasure, gold pieces and jewellery and so much stuff it was almost impossible to find a good place to stretch his legs. He kicked aside some of the things to clear a place, dislodging a few of the piles of coins and being almost buried in the process.

"Shit!" he grumbled loudly, his voice echoing off the chamber walls.

After a few more careful attempts, Zoro sat down leaning against the cold rock and closed his eyes. A second later he opened them again, wincing at the pain caused by something bouncing off his head.

He looked around and saw a red stone on his lap.

"What the hell?"

Zoro checked to see if there was someone else with him in the chamber, he was sure the piles of crap were stable when he sat down, so the stone had to have been thrown by someone. He wouldn't put it past his nakama to play such a prank on him.

There was nobody.

He picked it up and studied closer. It was a strange stone, almost as big as his fist and very shinny, its colour that of blood except for the centre, which was black. It was smooth to the touch and slightly warm.

With a shrug he put it in his pocket and closed his eyes again.

He opened them with a curse after two seconds, his hands moving to his head where he had been hit, again.

There was another red stone on his lap and Zoro took it to put in his pocket with the first one. The pocket was empty.

Puzzled and slightly wary, Zoro scanned his surroundings carefully. No, there was nothing there.

What would you change in your life if given the chance? A voice echoed in his head startling him. In his hand the stone was getting warmer, a dim light pulsating inside of it.

"Uh?" He said unintelligently.

Is there something in your past you would change? The voice insisted.

"No," Zoro said out loud wondering why all the weird shit always seemed to happen to them.

Are you sure?

He was going to say "Yes I am," but an image appeared in his mind, so vivid and painful as if it happened yesterday. Kuina's funeral.

Granted. The voice said before Zoro could do anything to dislodge that thought.

The chamber filled with red light, so bright it hurt Zoro's eyes, and the last thing he had the chance to think before everything went blank was, "Oh shit."

…

Part I - Zoro the Pirate Hunter and Kuina of the White Sword.

Sanji shivered in his sleep, his hands trying to grab the quilt and wrap it more securely around his body. There was nothing to grab, his bare body completely exposed to the freezing air filling the cabin. It was fucking cold out there and the bloody idiot had probably stolen the covers again.

He was going to kill him.

Sanji opened his eyes startled and looked wildly around, a shudder running down his spine. Sleeping soundly next to him, cocooned in the blankets and quilt with only the dark hair poking out, was Kuina. Sanji sighed relieved, for a moment there he had a very strange thought, but no, there was no way he was sharing his bed with a man.

No, his bed and his heart were only for the lovely Kuina. It had to have been a nightmare, a weird dream he was having what made him think there would be a man sleeping next to him; he would blame the food for it had he not been the one who made it.

He leaned forward and deposited a kiss on the top of her head, moving carefully so she wouldn't wake up. Kuina might be the loveliest of ladies but she had a nasty temper before her morning coffee.

There was no point for him to stay in bed, he was already awake and breakfast had to be prepared.

He put on his warmest clothes and went outside. The air was more than chilly; it was almost as cold as when they reached Drum Island, so if his calculations were correct they were very close to a Winter Island.

"Oi Usopp!" he called and a long nose appeared at the top of the Crow's Nest. The nose was practically the only part he could see of Usopp, so hooded he was in furs and blankets. "I'm going to start breakfast, want a hot chocolate?" he offered.

Usopp nodded enthusiastically, "Thanks Sanji!" was the muffled reply.

Sanji smiled and went to the kitchen to start breakfast preparations, a big pot of steaming coffee for Kuina and Robin and lots of hot chocolate for the rest of them, they needed to keep as warm as possible considering the temperature outside. He filled a big mug of chocolate and went out again, wincing as the cold air bit his skin, the little which was exposed.

"Here," he said climbing up to the Crow's Nest. It wasn't usual for him to give treats to the guys, he reserved them for the ladies, but on a night like that he felt pity for the poor sod on watch.

"Thank you," Usopp said, the chattering of his teeth making it hard to understand his words, though the grateful look on his face spoke volumes. "I think we'll see the Island soon."

Sanji looked out; there wasn't much to see at that time, the first light of dawn barely illuminating the dark ocean. "Nami-san said the next island is Lubary," Sanji said, an odd feeling of dread taking hold of him as he spoke the words.

Lubary wasn't a famous Island nor had been mentioned to them before Nami did, but it was something he had been feeling since they departed Alabasta. Every single island they stopped at could be the one where that man was waiting for them.

That man, Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro.

For some reason just thinking about him made Sanji angry and terribly afraid at the same time, and he hated being afraid.

He had heard about him while they were still in the East Blue, before he joined Luffy and his crew of madmen to follow his dream. It was difficult not to, Roronoa Zoro had a reputation for being a bloodthirsty demon with skill to match. Sanji had never paid much attention to rumours, and even if he had there was nothing of interest there. He was no pirate before, so a pirate hunter was no threat to him. And as long as it was a man they were talking about Sanji couldn't care less, not with so many pretty women in the world to occupy his thoughts.

It changed when he joined the Straw Hats and met Kuina.

Kuina was everything Sanji had always wanted in a woman, even if he didn't know about that at the time. The first time he really saw her she was covered in blood, her white katana tightly gripped in her hand while she attacked her opponent relentlessly. There, in front of the Baratie, in a half-sunk boat Kuina was battling fearlessly the best swordsman in the world. And to everyone's surprise, she was winning.

Sanji had not really looked at her before, his eyes drawn only to the beautiful Nami-san. By her side every other woman looked plain, especially one who dressed like a man and carried a sword. But in the middle of the battle she looked like an avenging angel, Sanji's eyes unable to leave her face for even a second.

She had smiled when Mihawk admitted defeat, tears streaming down her face and a silly smile curving her mouth.

"See Zoro! I told you I'd be the best!" Kuina had screamed before collapsing, exhausted.

Sanji had probably fallen in love with her in that precise instant.

"Sanjiiiii!" Luffy's voice took him out of his reverie and Sanji snapped back to the present, shaking his head to dispel the strange feeling he had. He noticed something in the horizon, narrowing his eyes to see better.

"Land ho!" Usopp shouted also looking out of the window.

Yes, they had arrived at the next island.

…

Zoro looked at the bounty posters in his hands, his eyes drawn again and again back to the same face.

Kuina of the White Sword.

He signalled the barman for another drink, the glass in his hand already empty. It was quite the bounty she had on her head, and on top of that there was the title he had to take from her hands. He wasn't very interested in the money, truth be told. What he really wanted was to fight Kuina again and show her how much he had grown since the last time they met.

That was the reason he was there, freezing his arse in that god-forsaken piece of shit Island.

The Straw Hats were following a log pose from Water Seven, and the only island before hitting the Florian Triangle in their path was Lubary, or at least that was what Jhonny and Yosaku said.

It had been a strike of good luck finding the useless pair before going to the Grand Line, and Zoro had stuck with them that entire time for old time's and convenience's sake. It wasn't that bad being around friendly faces, and besides he would never find his way around the Grand Line without them, he was perfectly aware of his limitations after years of chasing Mihawk first and Kuina later with no success. They weren't much good in a fight, he had to admit that, but Zoro didn't need help fighting anyway.

Kuina looked happy in the poster. Even Zoro had heard stories about the Straw Hat Pirates and his madman of a Captain, Monkey D Luffy. If Kuina wasn't aboard that ship Zoro wouldn't bother following them; they might have some of the highest bounties around but they didn't seem to be bad people and Zoro still had principles.

He was slightly envious of Kuina; if what he had heard was true, sailing with them had to be a riot.

Yes, Kuina looked really happy in the picture, but she also looked alert. As if she could see Zoro staring at her bounty poster and was challenging him to go after her. That was the way she was.

And of course he was going to; there never was any doubt about it. He had a promise to keep.

He turned to look at the other posters, measuring his opponents. It was true he didn't want to fight them, but for what he'd heard about the Straw Hats chances were they would try to protect Kuina and Zoro would need to take care of them first. He'd do the same if someone with his reputation attacked one of his nakama.

Monkey D Luffy looked like an idiot. A widely grinning idiot with 300 million beri attached to his head, dead or alive. That was a lot of money for someone who smiled as if he didn't have a care in the world and carried no weapons. He was a fruit user, Zoro knew that much, but with a power so lame as stretching there was no way he was any good in a fight.

Or maybe that was what all his enemies thought before, and the 300 million were the result of that underestimation and some strange skill. He'd definitely keep an eye on him; maybe fight him if the opportunity arose.

The Cat Burglar Nami looked shrewd even in the picture. She also looked weak. He wouldn't fight against her, not because she was a woman but because she wasn't a fighter.

The other one who didn't look much like a fighter was that Sogeking. One didn't need to be a genius to notice the resemblance of that long nose with the crew's sniper. What Zoro knew about the sniper was that he was a coward with a big mouth and incredible good aim. It was the perfect skill for a coward, shooting accurately from afar, and it made Sogeking someone Zoro didn't need to worry about.

Same as the deer--pet--critter--whatever it was with the pink hat and the big sparkly eyes. Nothing Zoro would concern himself with unless he was very, very hungry.

The rest of the crew seemed more interesting to Zoro.

Nico Robin was interesting. She looked like a woman who knew what the world was about, and if everything he had heard about her was true, she wasn't someone to underestimate. Zoro had no qualms fighting against girls, years of being beaten by Kuina made sure of that, but Robin looked more like a schemer than a fighter.

Franky the Cyborg was more than weird. The price on his head mean he had to have some skill fighting, or at least using weapons. Zoro wasn't entirely sure what he felt about a man who pranced around in his underwear, but he'd love to test his steel cutting technique and a man with a metallic body was the perfect candidate.

The one he was most interested in, though, was the cook. Sine the first time he had seen the bounty poster, hideous drawing and all, he had felt his eyes returning to him as much as they did to Kuina. Blackleg Sanji, the one with the highest bounty after Kuina and Luffy.

He appeared to be strong, really strong. And the rumours he had heard was that he kicked as hard and precisely as the legendary Redleg Zeff, which had earned him his nickname.

Definitely someone Zoro wanted to fight.

There was something familiar about that curled eyebrow and the cigarette dangling from his lips, something that made sure Zoro was unable to ignore him. He didn't have a clue what could it be, though. And just that inexplicable feeling was enough to set Zoro's teeth on edge, like there was something he should know and he was forgetting.

He had the same feeling, to a smaller degree, looking at the rest of the crew, but it only managed to unsettle him faced with the drawing of Sanji.

He finished his drink and stood up from his stool, dropping some coins on top of the bar and picking up the posters.

Soon the Straw Hats would arrive and he'd be able to test his skill against Kuina, maybe finally wrestle the title from her hands.

He couldn't wait.

…

Part II (soon)

Bleach fic: Leap of Faith - Part IV

Mon, 25 May 2009 23:31:20 GMT

Title: Leap of Faith - Part IV
Author: aviss
Pairing: Grimmjow/Ichigo
Rating: PG-13 so far
Genre: Action, Adventure, Romance
Warnings: None so far
Word Count: ~2.200 this part
Summary: Ichigo has problems adapting to the peaceful days after the war. However, they won't be peaceful for long

Part I
Part II
Part III

Part IV

Damn that fucking Ulquiorra and his stupid woman! Grimmjow was feeling so angry and frustrated he was very tempted to blast the rest of Las Noches to bits with a cero. Maybe that would help with the search. What a fucking timing! He had been close, so close and now he had to play hide and seek with those pesky little things, Kurosaki trailing behind him instead of writhing under him like he should.

He could feel Kurosaki's glare digging into the back of his head, the Shinigami wasn't happy at all. That made Grimmjow feel slightly better, at least he wasn't the only one annoyed and unsatisfied.

"What the fuck is your problem now, Grimmjow?" Kurosaki said his voice tense and oozing irritation with each word.

He didn't stop or look back, just kept walking down to the corridor leading to the stairs, climbing to the upper levels of the building. The sooner they got this done the sooner they could get on with what Grimmjow really wanted.

"You're a complete arsehole, you know that Grimmjow?"

He stopped at that and turned to look at Kurosaki, who was coming up the stairs a couple steps behind and scowling up at him.

"I don't need you for this, Shinigami," he said glaring at him, "I told you I can deal with these things on my own."

"Yeah, that much is clear. I can see how well you dealt with them before." Kurosaki had the nerve to smirk and Grimmjow felt the urge to wipe it off his face with his fist.

Or maybe his mouth.

"Shut the fuck up Shinigami," Grimmjow snapped, turning again and continuing up the stairs. "I didn't ask you to come, did I?"

"Fucker," he heard Kurosaki mutter under his breath, but he didn't say anything else.

They continued to climb in silence, the tension hanging around them like a shroud. What they had to do was fuck and get it out of their system, and then they could look for the fucking hollows and kill them all.

But there was no way they'd do that, not with them knowing more shinigami were coming. If Grimmjow had to endure one more interruption he was going to blow up the bastard with a cero.

They reached the top level, the sun coming down strong through the parts of the roof which had been destroyed, a long corridor leading to several rooms. Before they were Aizen and his shinigami quarters, and Grimmjow was convinced there had to be tunnels and secret ways leading to different parts of Las Noches.

The first door on his left opened to that creepy arsehole Gin's bedroom. It was mostly still standing, the huge bed still made and covered with a thin layer of dust, as if waiting for its owner to come back.

It was giving Grimmjow ideas.

Kurosaki entered the room behind him and followed his look, rolling his eyes. Grimmjow turned around and walked up to him, stopping close enough to touch him.

"Don't even think about it, you bastard," Kurosaki growled warningly. "I'm fucking sick of your games. We're going do what we have to do, and we're going to do it now."

Grimmjow stared at him amused. He could feel the heat coming off Kurosaki's body, could almost smell the desire on him. He leaned forward only to be stopped bit the sharp tip of the shinigami's sword at his throat, wrappings and all.

"Do you think this is a game, Grimmjow?" Kurosaki asked.

"I think you want me," Grimmjow replied not bothered in the least by the threat.

"That might be true, but I'm not going to let you screw me up like before," he said stubbornly. "Renji and Rukia and who knows how many more shinigami are on their way, I'm not putting up shows for anyone else today. We have a job to do."

Grimmjow put his hand on the flat of the sword and moved it aside, leaning closer. "Have it your way," he closed the distance and pressed their lips together, his action belying his words. The kiss was short but intense, Grimmjow pushing his tongue inside Kurosaki's mouth and tasting him hungrily. "But when we kill all those hollows I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to move in a week," he said taking a step back and Kurosaki had the nerve to snort a laugh.

"We'll see Grimmjow," he said, moving away from him and muttering under his breath. "I have to be one very sick fuck to have fallen for a bastard like this."

…

Ichigo opened the door at the end of the dark corridor, the bright light on the other side blinding him momentarily, and cursed.

They were again in the same place.

He stepped into the Throne Room, Grimmjow a few steps behind him, and glared at the place as if he wanted it to burst into flame.

"This is getting ridiculous, Grimmjow," he said annoyed. It was the third time they ended up the same room, all the previous hidden passages leading to the exact same location.

Grimmjow didn't look much happier, scowling darkly and gathering energy into the palm of his hand as if he wanted to completely destroy it. Ichigo couldn't blame him but it would be harder to find what they were looking for if Las Noches crumbled to dust.

"Stop it!" he snapped and Grimmjow did, shooting him a look this side of sulking. Ichigo rolled his eyes. "This is hard enough without you destroying the place."

"What do you suggest we do, Kurosaki?" Grimmjow said defiantly, it was clear he was also getting very angry at their lack of progress but Ichigo was not in the mood for that.

"I don't know! This is where you live, not me. Aren't you supposed to know the place better?" Ichigo retorted crossing his arms on his chest. Just being with Grimmjow was enough to set his teeth on edge. He was the most annoying guy Ichigo had ever met.

He really was a sick, sick individual.

"This place is a maze!" Grimmjow said raising his voice, "The only person who knew it was Aizen, and maybe Gin and Tousen. You don't believe he actually trusted his Arrancar?"

Ichigo shook his head. No, he didn't think Aizen trusted anyone, maybe not even Gin.

"Didn't he trust Ulquiorra?" Ichigo said remembering how the Espada had always followed Aizen's orders without question.

"If he did, he didn't trust him that much."

Damn! So it was back to the beginning, up the stairs and pick another door. He was really tired of all that shit.

They were almost at the door when Grimmjow stopped and turned around, scanning their surroundings intently.

"I think your friends are here," he said and Ichigo turned to look as well. He couldn't see or feel anything yet.

"What?"

"A Garganta was just opened and I can feel five, no four, shinigami coming," Grimmjow smiled nastily, "I think Ulquiorra's woman ran out of luck."

Ichigo saw them a few seconds later, two black clad figures rushing up to them, another two following close. It wasn't difficult to see who they were. Shuuhei and Kira were at the front, swords at the ready while Renji and Rukia followed at a more sedated pace.

"Step away from the Arrancar, Kurosaki-san," Kira said stepping inside the room, Wabisuke already released in his hand. That didn't look good.

Shuuhei took position a few steps to the side of his companion and also pointed his released sword at Grimmjow.

"What are you doing?" Ichigo asked, letting all the anger and irritation of the unsuccessful search colour his words. It was turning out to be a long, long day, and his patience was at an all-time's low thanks to Grimmjow. The last thing he needed right now was to fight against his supposed allies to save the neck of the guy he wanted to strangle the most.

"We're here following orders, Kurosaki-san," Shuuhei said reasonably, not making any move apart from glaring at Grimmjow.

Grimmjow just smirked infuriatingly and leaned against the wall, completely unconcerned.

"There is new Arrancar activity and everything points to that Espada being involved," Kira said bristling, the hand holding the hilt of his sword clenched so tightly Ichigo could see it going white.

"Grimmjow had nothing to do with that, Kira," Ichigo said wearily. He knew he would need to explain himself, and probably repeat the scene when Ulquiorra appeared, and he was getting fucking tired of it.

He wanted to kill the hollows, resolve that problem and then go back to his body and home and sleep for a long time. He'd be ready to face Grimmjow and his mercurial mood-swings afterwards.

"You don't need to protect him, Kurosaki-san," Kira insisted. He seemed to have problems believing Ichigo had wanted to be there, and he couldn't blame him. Ichigo had problems believing it himself after all. "It doesn't matter what he used to force you to--" he stopped himself with a quick look back at his back.

Renji and Rukia arrived at the precise instant, taking just one look at the situation and stepping up to Ichigo. "Stop that Kira," Renji said turning to him. "We've already told you it's not Grimmjow."

"Kurosaki-san was taken--"

"Oh, for fuck's sake Kira!" Renji said shaking his head. "You saw Ichigo following Grimmjow, and you saw what they were doing when we got there! Nobody has taken him anywhere against his will."

Ichigo saw Kira and Shuuhei share a look which spoke volumes and said nothing good about Ichigo's mental health, sheathing their swords again. Grimmjow had not said a word or moved since they arrived, probably enjoying Ichigo's embarrassment.

"I thought you said Grimmjow wasn't the one going to Karakura," Rukia said reproachfully, calling Ichigo's attention to her. "You didn't need to lie."

"I wasn't lying," Ichigo said turning to her. He hoped his face wasn't as red as it felt. Rukia had seen them twice, it was almost too much to bear. "It wasn't him."

"Who was it then?" Renji asked. It was clear he didn't believe it either.

"Him," Grimmjow spoke for the first time, tilting his head towards the other end of the room where Orihime and Ulquiorra has just arrived.

…

At least this time Ichigo wasn't the only one feeling embarrassed, though it was a poor comfort when Rukia fixed them with the most incredulous look he had ever seen and asked if there was something in the air in Karakura which made people insane. Orihime's face lit up like a Christmas tree and Ichigo's felt more or less the same, but at least Ulquiorra wasn't laughing.

It was more than could be said for Grimmjow, the annoying prick.

"So, what you're saying is these guys are helping us now?" Renji finally asked breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen in the room, his arched brow leaving no doubt of his thoughts about that development.

"Not helping you, Shinigami," Grimmjow said coldly, the amusement completely gone from his face now. "We don't need your help and we're definitely not helping you. We're dealing with our pest problem on our own."

Ichigo was too fucking tired of having the same conversation again and again, he shot a sharp look at Grimmjow and turned to Renji, "They're not behind them, if that's what you want to know. And they like them as much as we do, so it would be better for everyone," he said pointedly with a quick glance at Grimmjow, "if we could all work together and finish this as soon as possible."

Everyone stared at him as if he had grown another head. Clearly cooperation wasn't at the top of their list. Ichigo rolled his eyes.

"Look Grimmjow, I know you can find and kill them all on your own, and so can they," he snapped impatiently. The day had gone from bad to worse really quickly and the last thing he wanted was to mediate between Grimmjow and the shinigami. He had more pressing matters to attend, and killing them all so he could gain a modicum peace of mind, would definitely be a bad idea. It was sorely tempting, though. "But if we don't want to be here searching the entire fucking week we'll have to do it together," he finished with an annoyed look around. "I, for one, have better things to do."

He looked from Grimmjow, who seemed to be sulking again, to Renji, who had the most irritating knowing smirk on his face.

"Fine," Renji finally said, "I have way too much paperwork waiting for me in Seiretei to waste my time here."

Grimmjow was still glaring at him, but he gave a curt nod and pushed off the wall he had been leaning against. "And where do you suggest we begin searching, Shinigami? We've already combed this place and we've found nothing."

"Have you checked that freak's lab?" Renji asked.

"Szayel's lab in the basement was empty," Ulquiorra said, the first words which came from his mouth since the shinigami's arrival.

"What about the other one? The one where Ishida and I fought against him?"

…

Part V (soon)

Supernatural fic: Paved with Good Intentions

Wed, 13 May 2009 23:03:47 GMT

Title: Paved with good intentions
Author: aviss
Characters: Castiel, Dean, pre-slash
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst, drama
Spoilers: up to episode 4.21
Disclaimer: Not mine, obviously.
Summary: Even after everything has gone to hell there can be some hope.
Word Count: ~3.900
Notes: Right so it took me what, two days to go from watching the 4th season to write fic for it. A record for me.

Paved With Good Intentions

If you Fall for him, who's going to get him out of Hell this time? Who's going to get you both out?

…

He has to know.

Dean knows he's going to regret it, but one quick look at the wrecked Honeymoon suit and the closed door, not only to the room but also to his life as he's known it, assures him one more thing to regret isn't going to make a difference.

"Castiel!" he shouts at the top of his lungs, "Castiel, you bastard! Come here!"

He calls the name over and over again in his head. The last person he wants to see right now, the one he has to. Here, in the middle of this shitty room in this tasteful, expensive hotel it's all so clear. It was never Ruby, it couldn't be her.

That leaves only one name in a very short list of candidates.

He should have known.

"I am not at your beck and call, Dean Winchester," Castiel's cold voice tells him he isn't alone in the room anymore. Dean sits up carefully, trying not to get his hands sliced with the pieces of broken glass. He doesn't want to have to explain the blood stains to Bobby on top of everything else.

"You've come, haven't you?" Dean says snidely, glaring at him. Castiel is standing ramrod straight, staring back at Dean with something that looks remarkably closer to distaste.

Dean sighs, one step forward two steps back with this one.

"Is there something you want from me, Dean?" Castiel asks after a while, the silence stretching between them awkwardly.

Dean watches him through narrowed eyes; Castiel, the fucking breathing statue. He had thought before Castiel wasn't that bad, he was learning, he was becoming less of a dick and more human. That was before, now Castiel seems to be every bit of a dick as he was at the beginning. It pisses Dean off to no end.

"I was just wondering how a chained man can get away from a demon-proof room, one Bobby had guarded himself," Dean says in a conversational tone, reigning in his seething anger. He's just screwed everything between his brother and him, staying a bit calmer for this one is a must. It's not going to be easy, though. "And I remembered it happened just after my little chat with you. Remember my friend Alastair? He also managed to break free from the seals. This happens a lot around you?"

Castiel looks at him with the same cold expression, his gaze icy and disinterested. "I had no part in Alastair's release," he finally says, not denying the other part of the accusation. Dick. "Uriel's deceit was something I had not foreseen."

"I see you are admitting freeing Sam," Dean says, the faint hold he retains on his temper fraying quicker than he expected.

"I have no reason to deny it, I had orders," Castiel says simply.

"You had orders?" Dean repeats slowly, enunciating each word as if it were said in an alien language. One he doesn’t properly understand. He feels like that speaking to Castiel most of the time.

"Yes. He still has a part to play in this war."

"And you didn't stop to consider we had him there for a reason?"

"You were killing him," Castiel says repeating the same words Bobby already said to Dean. They have the same effect, none.

"He's better off dead," Dean says shaking his head. He's choking on his fury, the words so strained it's a miracle they are heard in the room, and knows he's going to lose it soon. "You said that yourself, he's turning into something I would want to hunt."

Castiel still stares at him; unmoving, unmoved. It's like arguing with a fucking concrete wall.

Dean just stares back at him, hatred like he hasn't felt before burning his stomach. He has sworn loyalty to this? Bobby was right, he's a fool.

"If it's God's will," Castiel finally says after a minute and Dean sees red. He moves on instinct, his body reacting before he can tell it to stay put, crossing the distance between him and Castiel in one powerful lunge.

He feels his punch connect and winces at the pain in his hand, the bones crunching loudly. It's not just like arguing with a concrete wall, it's also like trying to hit one. Castiel shows no more reaction than a distasteful look at him.

All the fight leaves him in a rush, the futility of it all getting to him. Dean presses his sore hand against his lip, shoulders slumping.

"Fuck you and your holy war, I'm out of here," he says wearily, turning his back to Castiel and leaving the room.

…

"It's time."

Dean startles at the sudden appearance of Castiel next to him, his hold on the steering wheel slipping and the Impala swerving wildly. He has a moment to be grateful there is nobody else on the road; he doesn’t need a car crash on top of everything else, though it would be the perfect ending for the worst day of his life.

"What are you doing here, Castiel?" he asks angrily. It's been just a couple of hours since he left the hotel room and he's been driving around just to try to calm down. He was almost there, but now he's feeling ready to kill again. And Castiel has only been there for a second.

"It's time," Castiel repeats as if Dean hasn't spoken. "All the pieces are in place, you have to stop Lilith breaking the last seal."

Dean shots him an incredulous look, turning his attention back to the road quickly. "I told you, fuck you and your war, and I mean it," Dean says clenching his jaw, irritation and hot, seething anger burning in his veins. "I'm not doing it."

"You are, you swore," Castiel says, his brow furrowing momentarily only to be smoothed again in that non-expression Dean hates so much.

"I don't care; you lied, I don't have to keep my word either."

He pulls over on a side of the road, stopping the car and getting out, Castiel is already standing at the other side of the Impala, waiting for him.

"You have to, you have no choice."

Dean laughs harshly, "I have a choice, you lied to me when you said Sam would be spared if I enlisted to your insane army. You freed Sam, I quit."

Castiel is looking at him intently now, the line furrowing his brow back. He looks angry and puzzled at the same time. With a slight shake of his head, it's gone.

"We can send you back to Hell," he says and Dean's blood runs cold at the threat but it doesn’t stop him. It's not the first time he's heard it.

"You won't, you need me."

"You are of no use if you disobey now, Dean," Castiel says and the warning is clear.

"What the fuck did the do to you in Heaven, Castiel?" he asks after a moment of silence, wondering. Castiel had threatened him before, that's nothing new, but even at the beginning he wasn't this much of a dick.

A fleeting expression passes through Castiel's face, too quick for Dean to recognize it, but it's a good sign. At least he can still feel something.

"That's nothing of your concern, Dean," Castiel says shortly.

"Yes it is," Dean insists, "something was going on, something that frightened you enough to seek me out in my sleep. And next I know they've dragged your ass kicking and screaming back to Heaven. I don't know what they did to you there, but you returned being as much of a bastard as Uriel was."

This time the expression in Castiel's face is easy to read, he flinches. "They didn't do anything Dean, I did it to myself. They just opened my eyes," he says, his voice laden with finality.

"Opened your eyes?"

Castiel turns to look away, his eyes fixed somewhere in the distance. "Yes, I was too close, I couldn't see."

He's talking in riddles and Dean doesn’t understand a thing, he just knows whatever it was they did to Castiel when they took him back to Heaven have to be bad. It's a wonder he has time to worry about this now the world is ending.

"Couldn't see what?"

Castiel looks at him, the intensity of his gaze something that has not changed. It makes Dean feel uncomfortable having those eyes focused on him. "I was thinking of disobeying, I was close to Falling."

He sees now. "So they took you back and brainwashed you to make you the perfect little soldier again?"

"You don't know what you're talking about, Dean Winchester," Castiel says coldly, "Heaven doesn’t need to explain the plan either to you or to me. Now let's go, we have a job to do."

"No," Dean says, stubbornly refusing to move.

"No?" Castiel looks at him incredulously, as if no one has refused him before. Dean knows that's not the truth, he remembers not doing what Castiel wanted at least once before.

"No, I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what happened to turn you into this machine--this hammer--again," Dean says crossing his arms over his chest to empathise his point.

"I don't have to tell you anything," Castiel repeats, his brow furrowing in annoyance.

"It's only fair you tell me why you screwed me over with this."

That earns him a glare, something he hasn't seen in Castiel's face before. Dean can tell he's angry, which is good, at least he's not controlling his emotions as tightly as before. There might still be hope for him.

"Fair?" Castiel says harshly, "What do you know about fair? I pulled you out of Hell and you're slowly dragging me down to it, how is that fair?"

"What are you talking about?"

"These feelings, these emotions--I don't need them." Dean can see now Castiel has not changed that much, not really. He's just gotten better at hiding it, but the feelings are there, the doubts are there. "I never doubted my orders before; I never considered rebelling until you started talking about fair and unfair. I am an Angel of the Lord, I have to obey."

"Even if the orders don't make sense?"

It's easier now to read the expression in Castiel's eyes, it's clearly pain. What those orders could be Dean doesn't know and he wishes for the umpteenth time he wasn't involved with fucking Heaven and Hell. He doesn’t know which one is more of a pain in the ass.

"I don't have to question their sense, I have to follow them," and strangely Castiel sounds more like he's saying that to himself than to Dean. He opens his mouth to say something else but Castiel stops him with a look. "We'll have this conversation, if you so wish, after we stop the last seal breaking. We have to go, now."

Dean wants to say not, he's still not satisfied, he's still angry. But he knows Castiel is right, they have to go.

They have an Apocalypse to stop and Dean has a brother to save.

…

"Are you sure this is the place?" Dean asks for the third time, staring at the empty warehouse just ahead of them.

He's not completely convinced of what they're doing, and it feels weird to be there without Sam, but if the last seal is being broken there, they Sam will come sooner or later.

Dean just wishes they can still fix things after the bitch is dead, hopefully at Dean's hand.

"Yes," Castiel says tilting his head as if listening to something. "She is inside, there isn't much time."

"But Sam--"

"He's coming."

…

It's all going wrong, Dean can feel it.

Lilith hasn't paid much attention to him apart from assessing he is alone and immobilizing him, Castiel too busy fighting off her minions to be of much help to him now.

Where the fuck are the hordes of Heaven now he needs them? They can't be the only ones with orders to stop this.

He has a bad feeling about this, and it only increases at noticing the smug smile on her face when the door opens again and his brother enters the room, Ruby dutifully following him.

Sam shots him a quick look and then focuses his attention in Lilith, who is not chanting, or sacrificing or really doing anything but smirking at them.

"Lilith," Sam says shortly, walking up to her.

"Sam Winchester, I was afraid you would not come," Lilith says, her childish voice grating against every single nerve in Dean's body. He wants to shout to Sam to run away, leave. He has a very bad feeling.

It's when Lilith starts the chanting that Dean realized just how screwed they are, they were waiting for them, for Sam.

"Sam, run!" he shouts but his brother is paying no attention to him.

"You die now, Lilith," Sam says stopping a few feet away from her.

Lilith laughs, the chanting stopping the moment Sam raises his hand, her pretty innocent face shining with triumph while her mouth opens in a screams.

"Sam, No!" Dean shouts, falling to the ground and scrambling to his feet to try to stop his brother. He looks at Castiel for help but can't see him, the demons he has been fighting probably overwhelming him by sheer numbers.

And still Heaven has not come.

Dean stares at his brother, hand held up in front of him while Lilith screams; a long high pitched scream of agony.

"Sam, stop!" he hears himself shouting, his movements too slow to stop what he can see coming. How could he have been so blind?

Sam turns to look at him, his eyes flashing first yellow and then red, his face twisting in horrified realization.

"Dean, help me!" Sam cries before he crumples to the ground, unconscious.

"Castiel, come here and give me a hand with my brother, we have to get him out of here!" Dean turns to where he has seen the angel standing last, fighting off Lilith's minions. Castiel is looking at him wide eyed, shaking his head.

Around them the world is shifting, the earth shakes and there is a low rumbling noise filling the entire room, as if the building is trying to fold into itself. Outside he can hear screams and shouts and the sound of chaos rising.

"It's too late, Dean," he says, shoulders hunching and an infinite sadness shinning in his eyes.

"No! Sam stopped Lilith, the bitch never got to break the last seal!" Dean insists, but the words taste wrong in his mouth.

"She did."

Dean knows is the truth, he has seen it even if he doesn't want to believe it.

"You let him go, Castiel," Dean says accusingly.

"I had orders, I didn't know--"

"You're wrong. We stopped it. We did," he says turning back to his unconscious brother with a last glare at Castiel.

Sam opens his eyes just as Dean is leaning over him, and they are not human.

…

It's over.

Everything's over; not only the war but also the world.

They've lost. They've lost spectacularly, and one look at the inhuman eyes on the familiar and loved face of what used to be his brother is enough to confirm it.

Dean closes his eyes and waits for the final blow to fall. At least he will have the honour to be killed by Sam--not, not Sam. Not anymore.

"What was that you called me before, Brother?" Sam says, the scorn in his voice making Dean wince. "What was it?"

He opens his eyes and forces himself to stare at Lucifer's eyes. He won't fool himself thinking it's Sam, there's nothing left of his brother there.

"A monster," he says through gritted teeth, the word tasting sour in his mouth. If only he could have taken it back in that fucking hotel room. But now it's too late, now it's also the truth.

He sees a movement on the corner of his eye, the place where Castiel has fallen is shimmering, a faint light getting brighter by the second.

Nobody else appears to have noticed.

"Do you want me to kill him?" Ruby, the fucking bitch, asks eagerly. It's easy to see she's going to enjoy that very much, she's itching for it.

"No," Lucifer says, his smile making Dean's blood curl. "I'll take him back to Hell myself; I heard his playmates are missing him."

He doesn't even have the time to blink before the white light explodes inside the room and something hits him like a fucking freighter, the impact enough to finally knock him out.

The last thing he hears before darkness rushes to get him are Lucifer's screams of rage.

…

"You should have left me there," Dean snaps angrily once the world stops moving. Fucking angelic mojo, it might be a fast way to travel but it makes him feel sick--sicker.

He's in such a bad state after the fight it's a miracle he's still standing. It's not that what makes him feel like he wants to throw up.

Castiel is in even worse condition than Dean, but that doesn't make him feel even one shred of pity for the bastard. Who cares about the annoying angel with everything else going on?

"I couldn't."

"Yes, you could," Dean says narrowing his eyes. "I failed, we're all dead. It won't make a difference now."

Castiel shakes his head sadly. "We can still fight."

"No," Dean says, his voice choked with loathing and disgust. He's not sure if at himself or the angel. Right now it's pretty much the same thing. "I can't."

He turns and leaves, not wanting to hear whatever Castiel wants to tell him.

…

Dean opens his eyes at the sound of the door opening, not making any movement to get up from the bed. He has not protected the motel room where he's resting for the day, all his guns and tools still in the Impala.

If they want him he's not even going to resist, there's no point.

Not anymore.

He lost. They lost, and it's all his fault.

If Heaven wants to toss him back to Hell and have every single demon there make him his bitch, Dean is going to just skip the lube and take it like a man.

Castiel enters the room silently and stops mere inches from Dean's bed.

"Came to take me back to Hell, Cas?" Dean says wearily. He doesn't have the energy to taunt Castiel; he doesn't have the energy for anything actually.

"No."

Dean stares at him, there's something different about Castiel and he can't put his finger on it.

"What are you doing here? I'm of no use to you."

"You're wrong, Dean," Castiel says in the same serious voice, his too intense gaze fixed on Dean. It's making him uncomfortable, and with a jolt he realizes it's the first thing he has felt since everything went to Hell.

Literally.

"Am I?" Dean sits up, scowling. "What do you think I can do? We've lost, I lost! I had it in front of me all the fucking time and was too blind to see it, and now he's walking the Earth again thanks to me. And to you, by the way," he can't help adding nastily. "If you had not interfered and freed him from Bobby's room this wouldn't be happening now."

Castiel's expression doesn't change, as if Dean's barbs aren't hitting the target. Maybe they're not; the self-righteous bastard probably thinks he is innocent. He just followed orders.

"We couldn't have known, Dean."

That makes him stand up from the bed, a feeling alien at the same time achingly familiar burning in his stomach like acid. It takes him just a second to recognize it as anger. Only Castiel can make him feel like that. Castiel and Sam, but Sam is no more.

"Yes we could, we should have known. It was there, plain as day; and I was so worried and scared for my brother it didn't even cross my mind to be scared of him. And you following your fucking orders, not questioning them, just following--we're so screwed it's not even funny. And the worst part is we've screwed the whole world at the same time." Dean lets out a shaky breath at the end of the tirade, too fucking tired and heartsick to do more than let himself flop back down on the bed. "Send me back to Hell or leave me the fuck alone Cas, just do it now."

"I can't," he says, and there it is again, that different thing Dean can feel, now hear, in the bastard. It eerily sounds like regret, and maybe guilt. Pretty weird for someone who didn't seem able to feel human emotion.

"You have orders to bother me? Is that the reason you can't leave me the fuck alone?"

"No."

"Then what? Why are you here?"

They stare at each other in silence, off in the distance a siren goes off, probably some demon causing mayhem in town. Dean doesn't care, not anymore.

"You need to hunt him, Dean," Castiel says after a while, the silence so thick and uncomfortable even he has to feel it.

"I'm not hunting my brother," Dean stubbornly refuses, repeating aloud what he has been saying in his head since the end--or the beginning, really. "Not that I could kill him even if I did."

Castiel shakes his head. "Not to kill him, to save him," he says, his voice low but firm.

"What?" Dean's up in an instant, looking at Castiel with a mixture of hope and suspicion. An angel wouldn't lie to him. Not like that, right? "You're serious?"

"Yes."

"What about your orders?" Dean asks warily. He's been tricked by Castiel before--he wants to believe, but he isn't going to make a fool of himself twice.

There is a world of sadness in Castiel's voice. "They are not fair, I'm not following them. I should have realized sooner but I didn't, they don't come from my Father. I don't need to obey them. There is part of your brother still there, you can save him. I'm not killing an innocent again if I can help it."

And it's the truth, Dean can feel it. He wonders about the consequences, not only for Castiel, but also for himself. Heaven is going to be pretty pissed off, and that means there will be not only demons but also angels after him.

After them.

Dean smiles for the first time since what feels an eternity.

Hope really is a strange emotion.

"Well, what are we doing here man?" Dean hears himself saying, his voice sounding like a passable imitation of his old cheeky one. "We have a job."

He can swear there is a hint of a smile now in Castiel's face.

"You coming?" he asks grabbing his jacket and moving toward the door, eager to leave now there's a faint hope in the future.

"Yes."

…

Damn it!

Fri, 08 May 2009 13:26:09 GMT

So they've blocked not only LJ and IJ now at my workplace, they've also gotten to DW (pretty quick if you ask me, it's been open for so little time) and cut all my entertaiment routes. Now I have no other option than to work. Shit.

It's here!

Tue, 05 May 2009 20:37:22 GMT

Finally! A bit late, but it's finally here. My Rough Guide to Japan. Now I have to study it before the 22th when I go to Valencia and duare barda_morgana and I get to decide the actual planning for the trip! I'm so excited!

Bleach fic: Storm Front - Part II

Sun, 03 May 2009 14:38:29 GMT

Title: Storm Front - Part II
Author: aviss
Pairing: Grimmjow/Ichigo
Rating: PG-13 this part
Genre: Action, Adventure
Warning: Violence
Disclaimer: Bleach and its characters belong to Kubo Tite, as everyone already knows.
Summary: While investigating the disappearance of a group of shinigami Ichigo discovers not everything they told him about the end of the war is true.
Word Count: ~2.100

Prologue - A Storm is Brewing
Part I - The Calm Before the Storm

Part II - Storm Clouds

They arrive at the place where the 12th Division officers disappeared fairly quickly, Rukia already waiting for them there, a frown creasing her brow and her lips pressed tightly together.

Ichigo can tell it's not irritation what he sees in her face and can feel the reason the moment they stop. That reiatsu, he knows that reiatsu--impossible as it is for it to be there. He knows Rukia has recognized it as well.

"Is this the place?" Renji says looking around, brows furrowed in thought. "I feel something--"

"I know what you feel," Ichigo says shortly, looking around for some clue as to what happened there.

"Ichigo?" Rukia appears at his side, her small hand a comforting presence on his shoulder.

"It's not possible," he says absently, his mind trying to piece together the events from what little he can see and feel in the place. Renji is looking at him with a concerned expression, more interested in Ichigo it seems than in what they are investigating.

"What--" Renji begins and Rukia shots him a look.

"Grimmjow."

"He was here," Ichigo says feeling strangely detached from the entire situation.

He has avoided thinking about the deranged Espada since the end of the War, since the moment Kurotsuchi came back from Hueco Mundo and informed them he had cleansed the place. Ichigo has avoided thinking about a lot of things since then or he would have killed Kurotshuchi with his bare hands.

"That's not possible," Renji insists, though he's looking far from sure.

"He was here, I can feel his reiatsu, faint but still here. Also, a cero has been shot in this place. It's always been his favourite move."

"But Grimmjow is dead. There was nothing left in Hueco Mundo but the sand and the collapsed buildings when we checked," Renji says, uncomprehendingly.

Ichigo knows that well enough; he can still remember his anger and pain seeing the place completely devoid of life. He raged against Yamamoto for allowing Kurotsuchi to do something like that: killing everyone in Hueco Mundo, regardless if they were enemies or allies, while Ichigo and the rest of his friends were busy fighting Aizen. He should have never allowed Grimmjow and Nell to stay behind.

"This is that fucking Kurotshuchi's doing," Ichigo spits venomously letting all his anger at the shinigami colour his words. "He's up to something."

"Ichigo be sensible, it's his subordinates who died here. I don't think Kurotsuchi-taichou would endanger his people like that," Rukia says trying to be the devil's advocate, though it's clear from her expression she doesn't like the guy any more than Ichigo does.

"I don't give a fuck about the 12th Division officials," Ichigo says finally looking at his friends, "but you have to admit it's pretty suspicious to find his reiatsu where people from that Division has disappeared."

Renji and Rukia share a look, it's clear to Ichigo they also smell something fishy. "What do you want to do then?" Renji says.

He thinks for a second. This place is not important; if things happened the way Ichigo suspects they might have, the place they need to investigate is in Seiretei. "Is it possible to enter the 12th Division for you?"

Renji shakes his head. "No, they are terribly paranoid, especially in the Research institute. Any shinigami from another division needs a shit-load of paperwork to be allowed in."

"Shit!"

"There is a way," Rukia says looking at them and Ichigo can swear he sees a light blush on her cheeks. "Kisuke surely knows how to avoid all that."

He feels his eyebrows trying to climb up his forehead. "Kisuke?"

"Not another word." She shots them a glare and fishes for her phone between the folds of her clothes, Ichigo and Renji staring at her. "Kisuke it's me. Yeah I know, they called me with something urgent. I need your help. I'll explain everything when we get to your shop."

"You two go ahead, I'll follow this reiatsu and see where it takes me," Ichigo says. "I'll meet you at Urahara's in about an hour."

…

"Hey Shinigami, don't die! I will be the one to kill you."

"Come with us Grimmjow, there is nothing for you in Hueco Mundo."

"I'll catch up with you soon; there is something I need to do before."

That had been the plan, but the next time a Garganta opened it had been that freak coming out of it, that fake smile on his face while he told them Las Noches had been obliterated and every single hollow in it exterminated. He had been so proud, the fucker, and Ichigo had stared at him, disbelief clear on his face until he saw it with his own eyes.

Nell. Peshe. Dondonchakka. Grimmjow.

All of them gone.

Hueco Mundo was just a desert with a mound of standing ruins where Las Noches used to be.

He had been incapable of believing, of understanding, how such monstrosity had been allowed to take place but Yamamoto had been clear when Ichigo argued with him. Hueco Mundo was full of hollows and it was a shinigami responsibility to exterminate them. What Kurotsuchi had done, though not initially in their plans, followed their beliefs to the letter.

And now this.

Ichigo knows as he follows the faint trail where he is heading to, and that makes him be more convinced if possible that he's not mistaken. Grimmjow is not dead, he has been there and he has killed the 12th Division officials.

And he has gone to her for help after that.

Inoue is not surprised to see him at her door when he knocks, she almost looks relieved. They have not seen each other in the past months after the war and Ichigo can't blame her: he almost killed her while trying to save her and became a monster in front of her eyes.

He turned out to be more of a dragon than a prince.

"Kurosaki-kun," she says opening the door wider and letting him in. He can feel it stronger in here, Grimmjow's reiatsu filling the small apartment, so strong it's almost stifling. "I knew you would come." There is a world of sadness and resignation in her words and Ichigo instantly regrets letting so much time pass without talking to her.

"Inoue," he says, suddenly at a loss for words. He has not known how to face her since their return, and it feels unfair that he is here now looking for someone else. Ichigo is not as blind as most people would think and has known how she felt for sometime, it never was a good moment to break her heart. It still isn't.

"Grimmjow was here," she begins pacing up and down the room, twisting her hands. "He was in a bad condition when he appeared and asked me to heal him. He's alive."

Ichigo nods to let her know he is aware of that. "When?"

"Not long ago," she appears nervous about something, her eyes shifting restlessly.

"Do you know where he went?" Ichigo asks though he is sure he knows the answer.

"He didn't say and he was in a hurry to leave," Inoue says, still not looking at Ichigo.

They stay in silence for a while, the air heavy with things unsaid and thick with regret. There are so many things he needs to tell her, he needs to apologize for. He didn't protect her like he should, he hurt her and he never acknowledged her feelings. Ichigo knows now he should have been frank with her, maybe hurt her for a moment but let her get over it. The way things are now is painfully awkward.

"I made him promise not to look for you," she finally says and Ichigo looks up at that, frowning. "I knew. I could see it in Hueco Mundo. You were more concerned about your fight with him than anything else, and you saved him. You didn't spare Ulquiorra or any of the others, but you protected Grimmjow."

Ichigo is staring at her now with open disbelief, his throat too dry to utter a word. Not that he knows what he would say if he could.

"I was almost glad when I heard he died, and I hated myself for that," she continues, her words chocked with emotions. Ichigo's heart clenches painfully. "I wanted things to go back to the way they were between us Kurosaki-kun. I wanted us to be good friends again. I wanted you to be the same old Kurosaki-kun so I wouldn't be afraid of you anymore."

"Inoue," he tries, his voice sounding alien in his ears. She shakes her head, silently asking him not to interrupt her.

"I just couldn't see you are the same Kurosaki-kun. That thing has always been inside you, and I don't need to be afraid because you control it now." She looks directly at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears but the beginnings of a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. "I'm sorry Kurosaki-kun."

He walks up to her and stops mere inches away, awkwardly. He doesn’t know what to do now he's so close, he wants to comfort her but he's ill equipped to provide comfort. In the end he settles for an awkward hug, his arms encircling her lithe body and pressing her against his chest for a second.

It seems to be the right thing to do; Inoue releases a shaky breath and chuckles wetly, her laugh turning into a sob. She cries in his arms for a while, her body shaking. "I'm so sorry Inoue," he finally says and she takes a step back at that.

"You can't help who you are Kurosaki-kun," she says wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her dress. "You have to go after him. I don't know what happened in these past months but it wasn't good. He has a weird mark on his neck, something I couldn't get rid of in the time we had."

"A mark?" He asks, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Yes, a flower. Kind of like the ones Toushirou and Rangiku had when they came but different."

"Did you happen to recognize it?" he asks though he doesn't need to. He's sure it wasn't the 10th Division insignia she saw.

"Yes. It's the same one Nemu-san has in her badge. The 12th Division mark."

…

Las Noches feels more like a graveyard than the place Aizen tried to make of it, its pristine walls and halls nothing but a pile of rubble in the middle of the desert, silence covering it like a shroud.

It gives Grimmjow the creeps.

The entire Hueco Mundo gives Grimmjow the creeps now but he has nowhere else to go.

His hand moves on his own to the spot on the back of his neck the woman touched, and again he feels the same sick feeling coursing through his body. That fucking bastard! Grimmjow knows what the mark means and hates it with his entire being. He wants to get rid of it, though it would take time and that is something he doesn’t have right now.

"I knew you would come here, Espada."

Grimmjow doesn't startle at the voice, doesn't run away from it though every fibre of his being is telling him he should.

"You fucker!" he spits, hands clenching at his sides and body trembling in fury. He attacks before he is fully aware of moving, his body reacting before his brain does. The freak in the mask just laughs and steps aside, his pale hand rising in a mock salute. Grimmjow sees red.

"I don't like my specimens running away, Espada," he says and he snaps his fingers, Grimmjow's body suddenly freezing in the middle of his lunge.

"What have you done to me, you fucking bastard?" Grimmjow snarls, fighting against the compulsion which holds his body unmoving. He hates feeling helpless and would happily tear that fucker apart with teeth and nails if he could only move.

"Don't move Espada, I don't want you damaging your body," he says mockingly. "We have to wait here for a while before we can go back, so keep silent as well."

Grimmjow opens his mouth to give him a piece of his mind but his throat is not working. Silently he screams; rage and hatred and his own helplessness making him choke in despair.

In front of him Kurotsuchi laughs.

…

Part III - Thunderstom

Bleach fic: Storm Front

Sun, 26 Apr 2009 20:40:18 GMT

Title: Storm Front
Author: aviss
Pairing: Grimmjow/Ichigo
Rating: PG-13 this part
Genre: Action, Adventure
Warning: Violence
Disclaimer: Bleach and its characters belong to Kubo Tite, as everyone already knows.
Summary: While investigating the disappearance of a group of shinigami Ichigo discovers not everything they told him about the end of the war is true.
Word Count: ~2.800
Notes: I haven't forgotten or stopped working in the other story, I'm just dealing with a bit of a block there and I tried to write myself out of it… with this. Not the smartest thing to do start another multi-chapter, but well…

Storm Front
Prologue - A Storm is Brewing

Grimmjow looks back at the shinigami chasing him, his breath coming in short pants and his movements beginning to slow down. He's getting tired of this game of cat and mouse. He doesn’t like the feeling of being the mouse; he has more in common with the cat.

Behind him another two figures in black join the one already on his heels and Grimmjow curses, stopping for a second to shoot a cero. He's tired, he shouldn't be overdoing it.

But those bastards keep coming.

Under them, on the street, people walk unconcerned, getting on with their own lives completely oblivious of what's going on in the sky over them. It annoys the fuck out of Grimmjow.

"Stop there Espada," one of the shinigami shouts, "we don't want to kill you, don't make us."

Grimmjow barks a laugh. "As if you could."

He jumps forward surprising the shinigami with his sudden attack, and unsheathes his sword in the same movement cutting the annoying bastard almost in half. Good, one less pest to worry about.

But the situation is still dire, he's wounded and tired and those fuckers keep coming.

Grimmjow looks wildly around, his instinct is telling him to get away from there though he'd much rather stay and kill them all.

"Bastard!" One of the remaining shinigami shouts releasing his sword. "You're dead you fucking bastard!"

Grimmjow laughs and sheathes his sword again, pressing his palm against the sharp edge and nicking it in the same movement, a few drops of blood swelling in his hand. He has one chance and only one; he is going to take it. He waits till the two shinigami attack at once to lift his hand, relishing in their shocked expression. "Gran Rey Cero." He doesn’t stop to see the result, before the flash is out Grimmjow has already turned and left the place.

There is no way those weaklings would survive the blast anyway.

He follows the trail of a known reiatsu until he reaches an apartment block, the small houses cramped with people living their pathetically short lives.

He's barely conscious by the time he gets to his destination, blood dripping from a wound on his side and his head feeling too light. He's lost a lot of blood but luckily he knows how to fix it.

"Woman I need you to heal me," he says entering the small apartment through the window and ignoring her shocked face and blatant fear.

"Grimmjow!" Orihime gasps the colour draining from her face. She looks exactly the way he remembers her: scared and frail, eyes darting around to see if salvation will come in the way of a knight in shinning armour. "What--"

"Don't ask, just do as you're told," Grimmjow demands impatiently motioning to his wounded side. "You owe me."

She is still reluctant, he can tell. It's not just the shock of seeing him there, alive, but the fact that he's gone to ask for her help. He wouldn't if he had another choice and he's sure she knows that.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were dead, I thought all of you were dead," she finally manages to say, her voice low and almost trembling. Grimmjow is surprised at the disgust he feels hearing her. He can't stand weakness and this woman, in spite of her power, is weak.

But he needs her now.

"I said don't ask."

She's still frozen, staring at him with those wide and frightened eyes. "No," she shakes her head.

Grimmjow is on her in an instant, grabbing her scrawny neck and lifting her from the floor. He barely has the strength left in him for that, he needs to be healed quickly.

"Do it or I snap your neck like a twig, woman," he snarls in her face. And still she shakes her head.

"No. If I heal you, you'll look for Kurosaki-kun, I know you will," she says, still doing the same song and dance as before. Grimmjow almost rolls his eyes.

"I have no interest in your shinigami friend," he lies.

She's still looking at him with the same stubborn expression, frightened of him but determined to deny him help.

"Promise me," she finally says.

"I won't look for your friend," he says through gritted teeth, the pain and annoyance he's feeling almost making him choke on the words.

"I'll heal you then," she says and Grimmjow releases the woman to allow her to work.

He's not too worried about the promise, if he wants to fight Kurosaki he doesn’t need to look for him. Somehow he knows the shinigami will find him when the time is right.

…

Part I - The Calm Before The Storm

The sword is coming down at him at an amazing speed, the white glint of its steel all the more dangerous because of its beauty. Ichigo dodges at the last second, barely managing to stay upright in the slippery ice. He curses under his breath. On his other side the heavy blow from the big sword hits him at full power, pain exploding in his chest and the first drops of blood soaking through his shihakushou.

He finally loses his balance at the force of the blow and goes sprawling on top of the ice, panting.

"Damn it!" He curses at the first laughs, glaring hotly. "No ganging up on me you bastards, this was supposed to be just me and Rukia."

Renji sheathes his sword again, taking a spot on a boulder above the place where they are sparring, his mouth curved in a smirk. "Sorry Ichigo you looked like you wanted to fall; I just helped you a bit."

Bastard.

"Are you going to get serious, Ichigo? You haven't even released your Bankai," Rukia complains her brow furrowed in annoyance.

Ichigo stands up and shakes his head, a few drops of water and tiny ice crystals flying every which way. "I don't need to release Bankai for a sparring session, you dummy," he says, not unkindly. It's so good to have his friends with him there he can't be angry with them.

Even if they deserve it for stunts like that.

She pouts and Renji laughs again. "He's right Rukia it's not his power what needs to improve, is his swordsmanship." Renji jumps down again from his place, landing gently between them. "Ichigo never learned sword techniques; he just got that meat cleaver he calls a zanpakutou and began to swing it wildly. If he's still alive with no Kidou and no techniques is only thanks to that monstrous reiatsu of his and that psychotic hollow inside him. And because we like saving his arse." This last one is delivered with a smirk aimed at Ichigo and he glares in response.

"It's not as if I had time to train before, what with saving damsels in distress and killing egomaniac ex-shinigami to win a war," Ichigo protests, though he knows Renji is right. It's a miracle he has not been killed yet considering he has no proper training. It's more of a miracle he has been able to keep his hollow on a leash again after relying so much on his power during the war. "And I remember saving your arse more than once as well."

He charges at Renji before the last words are even spoken, a smirk on his face at the surprise reflected in his friend's eyes. Rukia circles them, shouting quick instructions at Ichigo as they parry and deliver blow after blow, intervening occasionally to give Ichigo a quick smack with her sword when he curses at her.

Ichigo can't remember having this much fun in a long time, the war and the reconstruction were not things he enjoyed. Now he has his friends around and time to spend with them with no pressure and no sense of impeding doom.

If there is something he misses he doesn't think about it.

"Hey, I have to take a quick shower and leave," Rukia says after some time, Renji and Ichigo sprawled on he ground panting with exertion. "I have a date tonight."

Ichigo opens an eye and looks at her, "Who's the poor unfortunate soul?" he asks smirking. Rukia smacks him over the head again.

"I'm not telling you!"

Renji laughs and pushes himself up on his elbows, "I'll look for the one who's black and blue tomorrow," he says and Rukia glares at him, delivering a sharp kick to his ribs. Ichigo barks a laugh and receives the same treatment before she jumps away from them and out of Urahara's basement. "Poor bastard, dating such a violent girl," Renji finishes staring after her, and they share a look before he collapses on the ground again, laughing.

"What about you, Renji?" Ichigo says closing his eyes and leaning back, enjoying the feeling of the warm water lapping at his body. This is also another favourite of his, Urahara's healing hot spring. Is good not having to hold back during the training with something like that around.

"What about me?" Renji sounds as relaxed as Ichigo feels, his voice floating lazily between them.

"When are you going to confess to your Taichou?"

Renji splutters and Ichigo opens his eyes to find him staring with a shocked expression. He hit the jackpot with that one, not that it was a difficult guess.

"What are you talking about, idiot?" Renji protests but Ichigo can see the colour rising to his face.

"I've seen how you look at Byakuya and the way you follow him like a trained puppy."

"He's my Taichou for fuck's sake, of course I follow him! I respect him!"

Ichigo laughs shaking his head. What he saw it's not mere respect, no matter how much Renji protests. Not after he saw how worried Renji was when Byakuya almost died during the war; the guy has been obsessed with his taichou since forever but it seems he's not ready to admit it yet.

"Whatever you say," he shrugs letting the subject fall and closes his eyes.

The silence is comfortable for a while, just the soft murmur of the water lapping at their bodies and their regular breaths filling the air.

"And you Ichigo? It's been months since the end of the war, aren't you going to find someone?" Renji asks after a while.

Ichigo opens his eyes slowly to look at his friend. "Nah, there isn't any girl I fancy," he says, and it's the truth. Renji's arched brow tells him he's not buying it.

"I never asked about a girl," Renji says, confirming Ichigo's suspicion. "There must be someone you like," he insists.

"Nope, nobody comes to mind," Ichigo says closing his eyes again and relaxing back. It's true, there is nobody he likes right now, or at least nobody alive. And he's definitely not thinking about that. Not now.

"I think Shuuhei was giving you the eye last time he was here," Renji says, stubborn like a dog with a bone, Ichigo is sure he's not going to leave the subject rest until he's satisfied with his answer.

"Shuuhei? Not my type."

"What about Shinji?"

"Urg!"

"Urahara?"

"Don't be disgusting Renji, those guys are at least a couple of centuries older than I am. And Urahara is a lecherous bastard," Ichigo cries indignant only to be faced with Renji's smirking face. "You're pulling my leg, you fucker."

"Turnabout is fair play."

He feels like punching Renji's smug face but he has something better, "But maybe your pretty Taichou--" he begins and Renji splutters again, his eyes narrowing sharply. Ichigo has to choke back a laugh. "Since you are clearly not interested, and Byakuya is very attractive."

"And very straight, he was married," Renji says, almost a whisper. So that's the problem!

"Not so straight as you might think my friend, trust me on this one."

Renji looks at him with open disbelief on his face and sighs. "Anyway, I don't think he's your type. He's strong, but he's not bloodthirsty or homicidal enough for you." There is something in Renji's tone, something that tells Ichigo he might be more observant than he gave him credit for. But whatever it is Renji knows it doesn’t matter, not anymore. "Your type is more like Kenpachi, rough, rude and completely psychopathic. Add a bit of blue and a tattoo and you have the perfect guy for you," Renji finishes with a smirk.

Ichigo stares at him seriously, the amusement completely gone. "He's dead Renji, you know that."

Renji startles at that, his face turning serious as well. "Oh fuck, I was kidding but--"

They're interrupted by the loud beeping of Renji's phone and he scrambles out of the hot spring to answer it, completely uncaring of his nudity. Ichigo tilts his head up and stares blindly at the ceiling, suddenly feeling very tired. He knows Renji was just fucking with him in retaliation for asking about Byakuya, and he had apparently stumbled upon the truth just by accident.

He would have not said something like that if he knew.

It still bothers Ichigo.

"Damn!" Renji's loud voice takes Ichigo back to the present.

"What's wrong?"

"Some guys from the 12th Division have gone missing here, in Karakura," Renji says while he puts on his clothes and Ichigo takes it as his cue to get out of the water and start getting dressed as well.

"The 12th?" Ichigo doesn't try to disguise the disgust and hatred in his voice. He can't understand the way the Gotei-13 works but Kurotsuchi's Division holds a special place in his regard.

He would gladly destroy it with his own hands, especially since the war. And he's not thinking about that, not now not ever.

"Yes, they were investigating something under Kurotsuchi-taichou's orders. The five of them failed to report back and Soul Society is unable to reach them."

Ichigo frowns, thinking. The 12th Division is not known for making trips outside Seiretei: they help in emergencies and are trained like the rest, but that Division is more concerned with research and developing new things. It's strange that they were in Karakura, and even stranger that they have gone all missing.

"What were they investigating?" Ichigo asks, curious.

"I don't know; Kurotsuchi-taichou doesn't share information with the rest of the Gotei-13. But they are presumed dead and they have asked me and Rukia to investigate with you," Renji doesn’t appear to be more pleased with that development than Ichigo is.

"Damn! I knew sooner or later Soul Society would get me involved in their shit again." And if there is a Division he really doesn't want to be involved with is the 12th.

Renji laughs at that, "Story of your life, my friend. Now let's go, Rukia is on her way there and she won't be too happy to have her date cancelled."

Ichigo rolls his eyes and moves to the exit, Renji hard on his heels. "Tell me about it, and now she's going to be more violent than before."

"Is that even possible?"

"We're going to find out, aren't we?"

…

"What's taking you so long to heal, woman?"

Grimmjow is beginning to feel impatient and restless. She's taking too long to fix him and he doesn’t have much time to spare: those shinigami he killed before were just the beginning, there have to be more already looking for him.

"Here," she says, her finger touching a spot at the back of his neck. Grimmjow feels a small jolt course his spine at the touch, a feeling of wrongness engulfing his body, "is something I can't reject."

He takes a sudden step forward getting away from her and her fingers. "Enough!" Grimmjow snaps, turning around suddenly to look at her. She's startled and takes a step back, putting more distance between the two of them.

She lowers her hands and the field hanging between them disappears, her hairpins returning to their rightful place. "That's been there for some time," she says looking at her hands, "and there is a strong reiatsu embedded in it I can't reject."

"Never mind that," Grimmjow says. He has an inkling on what it might be and it just makes it more urgent that he leaves that place. He might not like the woman very much but she's more useful to him alive than dead, and chances are she won't stay that way much longer if Grimmjow stays at her apartment.

"I've seen that symbol before, that flower--"

Grimmjow shakes his head. "Forget about that, I'm leaving."

She looks relieved to see him gone. "Remember your promise," she says, almost a whisper.

Grimmjow resists the urge to roll his eyes. That woman is so predictable. "I will," he says and leaves the same way he arrived, moving quickly from rooftop to rooftop and opening a Garganta to Hueco Mundo.

…

Part II - Storm Clouds

Bleach 355

Fri, 24 Apr 2009 07:47:13 GMT

Wow, just wow. I dind't know you had it in you, Kubo, to torture like that everyone's favorite chibi. Honestly, my jaw hit the floor when I saw him cut almost in half, and he's always been a favorite of mine (my favorite character until Grimmjow appeared). I've no fucking idea how he's going to get out of this one. And I hope he's not going to die, but who knows, with Ulquiorra dead maybe Kubo got a taste for blood.

And next week there will be no Bleach, damn it! I have to wait two weeks for this.

Edit: Isn't this the perfect moment for Shinji and Urahara to arrive? I mean, we've already seen the Captains having their collective arses being handed to them, and we've been waiting for Shinji for a long time... it's about time now.

OP Fic: Once more with feeling - Epilogue + Omake

Wed, 08 Apr 2009 12:19:43 GMT

Title: Once more with feeling - Epilogue + Omake
Author: aviss
Pairing: Zoro/+Sanji
Rating: R
Genre: Drama, Angst, Horror.
Warning: Violence, character deaths (only not)
Disclaimer: So disclaimed.
Summary: Sanji is given a second chance to set things right. And a third. And a fourth…
Word Count: ~3.000 this part - 25.500 total

Day 1
Day 2
Day 3
Day 4
Day 5
Day 6
Day 7

Epilogue
Day 8

The first thing Sanji saw when he opened his eyes was Zoro's face scowling down at him.

He closed his eyes again, tired. This wasn't supposed to be happening, he couldn't be there. Last night had been the seventh, the last attempt, and he had saved them. He had gone with the old lady willingly, safe in the knowledge he had won and his nakama would live. They might not forgive him for dying, but they would be alive.

But this--this was too much. Was he supposed to keep living the same day, the same awful, terrible day again and again? Was that was Hell was about? He didn't know for how long he was going to be able to stand it before he broke again if that was the case.

Seven days of seeing his friends dying had almost cost him his sanity.

"Oi Cook," Zoro said in a gruff whisper and Sanji steeled himself to hear the rest of what he knew was coming, "I know you're awake so open your fucking eyes and look at me."

Sanji's eyes snapped open. That was different.

Zoro also looked different, he was bruised and more bandaged than the day before, and his expression was nothing short of murderous. Sanji opened his mouth to say something and found he couldn't speak, his throat was dry and the words refused to form in his dumbfounded brain.

Zoro filled the silence for both of them, his voice too loud in the quiet night, "What the fuck did you think you were doing, idiot?" Zoro yelled, specks of spit flying from his mouth and landing on Sanji's face, who was too stunned to even wipe them with the disgust it deserved. "What was going through that shitty brain of yours to do that? You think you can walk out on us like that?"

Sanji didn't answer, he couldn't. All he could do was stare at Zoro, whose face was getting redder by the minute and his voice louder, and wonder why he wasn't dead. He should be, by all accounts he should be dead.

"But--" he managed, his voice a chocked whisper. Sanji cleared his throat and tried again. "But I--she--I--"

Zoro's eyes narrowed, "She!" he spat venomously, "that witch."

Sanji blinked in surprise, "What?" Zoro couldn't know about the woman, about Death. Only Sanji had seen her, only he had known about her. "Why am I not dead?" he finally asked.

Zoro glared at him, "Do you want to die so badly?"

"No, but she said--"

"It doesn't matter what she said," Zoro said averting his eyes for the first time.

Sanji looked at him sharply, "What did you do, bastard?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing."

Zoro hauled himself over the railing, glad he had the presence of mind to grab it when the bastard cook kicked him over it. He was going to give the idiot a piece of his mind for pulling that shit on him. He took a second to catch his breath, eyes scanning the fine mist still covering the Sunny. Nothing moved in it.

"Oi Cook!" he shouted looking wildly around. He had a bad feeling; the deck was unnaturally quiet considering the fight that had been going on when he had been kicked overboard. "Sanji! Answer me!"

If he was honest with himself he had been having a weird feeling the entire day, some scenes playing in front of him like déjà vu. And then, that strange conversation with the cook-- I've been going through this enough to know what we have to do,--what he was thinking was insane but he had learned to trust his instincts, which was the reason he agreed to do what Sanji asked of him.

He had not expected to be the next one supposed to take a swim, though.

"Sanji! Answer me you bastard!" He was beyond worried now, and the fucking mist didn't dissipate.

He saw her then: an old woman leaning over something--someone. She was almost translucent and her hand passed through the figure on the deck. Zoro took a step closer and saw a shock of blonde hair matted with blood, a pool of blood still forming under the body and spreading over the deck.

No!

He rushed to their side, his white katana already unsheathed and ready to cut the old woman if needed.

"Keep your hands off him," he said, his voice an unsteady growl.

I can't.

"You can and you will," Zoro said warningly taking another step closer.

She turned to look at him then, her eyes bottomless pits of sorrow and knowledge. Zoro shuddered.

He agreed, are you going to make his sacrifice futile? Are you going to mock his pain and effort?

Zoro stared at her, speechless. Sanji couldn't, he just couldn't have. Zoro remembered their conversation and narrowed his eyes. Of course he had, the hypocritical bastard.

"I won't let you," Zoro insisted stubbornly refusing to let Sanji go and wondering if that was the way the idiot had felt when they woke up in Thriller Bark. If he had it was no wonder he was pissed off, right now Zoro felt like killing him.

Only Sanji was already dead.

What can you do? He made his choice and he was happy with it.

"Why him?" Zoro heard himself asking, defeated, his sword clattering uselessly on the deck.

He was strong and selfless, it couldn't have been anyone else.

Zoro nodded. He didn't know what he was going to tell Luffy and the rest of the crew--he didn't know what he could tell himself to make it easier to breathe.

I've never encountered a group like yours, you are all so eager to die for each other.

"It won't make a difference if I say to take me instead, will it?" Zoro asked looking at her and saw how her smile made her look so much younger, almost like a little girl.

I don't think that would make him happy, have you considered that?"

Zoro snorted a bitter laugh. "At least he'd be alive to be pissed off." Which was probably the same reasoning Sanji had when he decided to get everyone away from the ship and die alone. "How long?" He asked remembering Sanji's words and wondering for how long he had endured.

Seven days, one for each piece of his soul, one for each one of his living friends. Zoro saw a glint in the girl's eyes. She was telling him that for a reason, she was still there talking to him for a reason.

He needed to think.

There was a noise behind him signalling the arrival of everyone else. Some outraged cries and curses and the wet stomping of feet on the wooden deck.

"Damn Sanji, kicking me so hard!" Fanky's voice shouted, chorused by everyone else's agreement in varied and colourful words. Zoro's heart clenched.

"Zoro! Sanji! Where are you?" Luffy shouted and he was about to say something when a shocked scream pierced the air, the mist finally disappearing.

"Sanji!" Nami rushed to his side and knelt next to the body, completely oblivious of the shimmering presence of the girl next to her. "Sanji! Wake up Sanji!"

Everyone gathered around the fallen cook, eyes wide and disbelieving. Neither of them paid any attention to the girl except for Brook. Brook looked at Sanji and then his hollow eyes turned to look at the girl and Zoro could see all the pain and sadness in his empty expression.

I didn't think I'd see you again. You're looking good, your hair looks exactly the same.

Brook nodded, for one not making any tasteless joke. "Are you taking him?" Chopper was crying, wringing his hands uselessly and shaking his head. Next to him Usopp was bawling like a baby.

I think so. Robin was now staring at Sanji silently, her pretty eyes filled with tears and her chest heaving in silent sobs.

"Is there something I can do?" Brook said slowly, looking intently at the girl. "Have you already taken him?"

Not you.

Zoro snapped out of it at that, blocking the sound of grief around him and focusing entirely on the girl. "You said seven days, seven parts," Zoro said slowly, an idea taking shape in his brain. "And you said he can't do anything. What about me? What about us?"

The girl smiled proudly, as if Zoro was a small kid who got the right answer in class.

"Can you see her, Zoro?" Brook asked distantly but Zoro paid him no attention, his senses centred only on the girl.

"Seven days, seven parts--and he can't do anything. You didn't say there is nothing that can be done, just that he can't. I can, can't I? We can."

I've never seen people like you, people who share not just a friendship. You share your souls.

And Zoro knew.

"You're taking him in exchange for our souls; can't you take part of us in exchange of his?"

Giving part of your life for a friend is not easily done, you know you might not live enough to accomplish your dreams that way.

"Who cares?"

Her smile this time was the most beautiful Zoro had ever seen, almost blinding in its radiance and he wondered if she was really Death and not some kind of angel.

"Zoro?" Brooke was calling but he still ignored him.

"You can do that, can't you?" he asked, almost pleadingly.

He's not going to be happy. Zoro nodded, of course Sanji wasn't going to be happy to be rescued again, but Zoro didn't give a shit about that. He'd rather deal with a pissed off cook than the grief quickly filling everyone on the ship. They have to agree, it's their lives as well.

Zoro stood up and looked at his nakama.

"Sanji is not answering, Zoro," Luffy said, the sorrow in those simple words enough to break his heart.

"I know. But we can make it better."

"Zoro, he's dead," Chopper said his voice chocked with emotion.

"Yeah." He stared at them, their pain and tears, and knew it was going to be all right. "If you could, would you give anything to have him back?"

They looked at him uncomprehendingly for an instant, the seriousness of his words opposed to their deep sorrow, and their tears stopped. Luffy was the first one to answer, his simple mind probably understanding what was going on before the rest of them.

"Anything."

"Even part of your life? You might not live to be Pirate King if you do it."

"Yes," Luffy had that focused look on him now, studying Zoro intently. "Being Pirate King is not good if my nakama are not with me."

"Anything," the rest of the crew echoed.

Zoro nodded and turned to the girl. "There you have it. Do it now."

"What did you do?" Sanji repeated his voice a low growl. There was something shifty in the way Zoro wasn't looking at him.

"Nothing. I didn't do anything, we all did," Zoro said turning to look at him squarely in the eye. There was a world of pain and anger reflected in them and it made Sanji's heart clench. "But don't worry she also took a part of you. We're alive thanks to you and you're alive thanks to us, leave it at that."

Sanji closed his eyes and leaned back, a rush of relief and tiredness washing over him. He was glad to live, and even more to know everyone one else also lived.

"It's over," he said in a broken whisper. "It's really over."

"Yes."

He couldn't help it then, couldn't stop it and didn't even care if Zoro saw. He had been so scared, so fucking terrified of losing, of failing again. He didn't want to die, but he had wanted to lose even less. The tears stung his eyes and slid down his temples, silently at first and then in huge wracking sobs. There was no way to stop the flood now, his entire body convulsing in a mixture of pain and relief, the images of his dead nakama merging with Zoro's words in his mind.

It was over.

He felt hands clumsily patting his head, giving him the comfort of touch and warmth, the assurance of the other person's life. Suddenly the hands were grabbing his shoulders, awkwardly pulling him up and against a strong chest.

"Fucking shitty cook, always doing things your way," Zoro whispered in his ear, "always thinking you're stronger than anyone else and that you have to do everything on your own. I could kill you for pulling that shit on us."

Sanji almost laughed something about pots and kettles on the tip of his tongue. He didn't voice it, though; too busy crying his eyes out.

After what felt like an eternity his tears dried and he pulled out of Zoro's embrace slowly, looking around for his pack of cigarettes. He needed a smoke to compose himself.

"Here," Zoro stood up and grabbed them from one of the cabinets, passing them to Sanji and sitting again in the chair next to the bed. He was a bit flushed but his eyes were completely dry.

He smoked in silence enjoying the simple pleasure of the nicotine rushing through his system, the taste of tobacco in his mouth and the smell of the smoke around him. It was comforting to do something so trivial after the whole ordeal.

"I'll go tell the guys you're already awake," Zoro said after a while, standing up and moving to the door. "You're in for a long rant from Luffy and probably a couple of punches from the Sea-witch."

Sanji nodded, he had guessed as much considering the marimo's reaction. He was really lucky if that was all they did to him.

"And Sanji," Zoro said from the door, turning to look at him with a smirk on his face. "When you're out of here we'll talk about kissing dying people who won't remember it."

Sanji's heart stopped at that, his face flushing. Zoro couldn't know, could he? One look at his expression told him he could, and indeed, he knew.

Was it too late to seek Death and ask her to reconsider letting him live? Zoro was surely going to kill him.

"Let's see if you can do that again when I won't forget," Zoro finished with a last amused look and closed the door after him. Sanji stared at the closed door and sighed, leaning back on the bed.

He could hear the noise of his Captain and the rest of the crew approaching: loud cries of hunger, kicks, punches and general chaos walking toward him.

Another near death experience for the Straw Hats--too near for comfort, but what the hell, nothing new--and normal life returned to the Sunny.

Everything stayed the same.

Or not, he thought closing his eyes and smiling, Zoro's face swimming into focus in his mind.

Maybe some things did change.

…

~Fin~

Omake

The Black Ship stood still in the eye of a huge storm, its crew playing cards on the deck or just lazing about, its Captain sitting on the Crow's Nest, eyes scanning the turbulent waters of the sea.

The next red moon was almost a month away and there wasn't much for them to do until then.

A shimmering shape materialized next to him. An old woman, face wreathed in lines of sorrow and kind, gentle eyes.

Looks could be so deceiving.

"I win," she said to him.

The Captain looked almost like her, his own shape translucent and his face as aged as hers.

"You cheated," he said, not sounding very upset. It had been an interesting match, one he didn't mind losing. And besides, the Straw Hat Pirates hadn't been good candidates for Hell, they were too nice.

"I didn't!" She was offended and he smiled, his face turning into that of a handsome young man. "I won fair and square; you didn't take even one of them."

"You helped them; I was so close to adding their souls to my collection--" It would have been a pity, though. He hadn't stooped so low as to enjoy harvesting good souls. But he had to do what he had to do.

She also smiled, "But you didn't, so it's my win."

"Stop repeating it, idiot! I got it the first time!" He said without much heat, a smile playing on his lips. "Do you think they'll ever notice you didn't take anything from them?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't think they will. They offered, and that was all there was to it. They passed the test."

"Yes, I knew they would. But it was close."

"It always is when they do."

He stood up and turned to look out of the window. "Hey, when can we return home? I'm getting tired of this place."

She walked up to him and put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing a bit. "Soon, we've almost served out our punishment. A couple more tainted souls and they'll let us back. The next ship is on the way, I think they are called the Blackbeard Pirates. They are perfect candidates for the game." She smiled again and there was nothing kind in it this time.

"Good for salvation?" he said, his smile matching hers.

"No, the other way round. I'll enjoy harvesting those souls."

He laughed, "So I'll have to play the kind Death this time."

She gave him a look. "You don't do kind."

"I know."

They chuckled together, sharing the joke, and returned to watch the ocean, waiting for their next chance.

Soon they'd return home.

…

~Fin~

OP Fic: Once more with feeling - Day 7

Wed, 08 Apr 2009 12:09:50 GMT

Title: Once more with feeling - Day 7
Author: aviss
Pairing: Zoro/+Sanji
Rating: R
Genre: Drama, Angst, Horror.
Warning: Violence, character deaths (only not)
Disclaimer: So disclaimed.
Summary: Sanji is given a second chance to set things right. And a third. And a fourth…
Word Count: ~3.800 this part
A/N: This is now complete, finally! I wanted to post everything before I go on holiday tomorrow, so here is is.

Day 1
Day 2
Day 3
Day 4
Day 5
Day 6

Day 7

"Oi Cook, you fell asleep in the galley again and it's your watch now," Zoro said his voice a gruff whisper. He looked half asleep and Sanji stifled a yawn.

"Go to sleep you dumbass, I'm awake," Sanji said jumping up from the bench and rushing outside, the cold air of the early morning helping him feel a bit more refreshed.

It was the last chance and this time he couldn't afford to lose even one of his friends. He knew what he had to do.

Humming happily to himself he climbed up to the Crow's Nest, staring out of the window at the red moon reflected in the waters. Red had never been a favourite of his, and after this it was sure to have a position at the bottom of the list, but somehow today he didn't care much.

Today the moon looked less like blood and more like rubies.

Nami would have loved it.

Nami--there was a thought to warm Sanji's heart. His pretty Nami-swan with the beautiful eyes and shapely body. She was so lovely he wouldn't mind dying for her.

He intended to do it. Tonight.

And for Robin. Robin-chwan with the soft voice and the knowing eyes. Always the lady: calm and composed and so very beautiful. Someone to die for if Sanji had ever known one.

Sanji smiled thinking about them, his pretty lovely ladies.

But they weren't the only ones, and Sanji wouldn't mind giving his life for any of his nakama.

Luffy, the boy who had promised to take him to his dream. The first person ever not to question the reality of it--if it was real enough for Sanji, it was real enough for Luffy and that was all that mattered.

Sanji would follow his Captain to the end of the world if needed.

And Usopp, the Great Captain Usopp. He really didn't know how brave he really was, always hiding behind his epic stories and his cheap masks. Sanji was certain Usopp would be a brave warrior one day. It was a pity he wouldn't be there to see it, but it was enough knowing he played a part on it.

Chopper was still a child. A child in the body of a monster but a child nonetheless. And he was always trying to keep up with them, which couldn't be easy considering who they were. It was incredible he managed to keep an innocent heart after all he'd seen and Sanji wanted him to keep it forever.

He'd give anything to make sure of that.

Franky was still a perverted bastard, not two ways around that one. But just one look around the Sunny was enough to tell anyone with eyes he wasn't just your average perverted bastard. And Sanji had to admit he did wonders for the mood on the ship, he was as insane as the rest of the Straw Hats and had a dream as big as theirs. He needed to achieve it.

Brook was special even by their standards, but Sanji could see his determination to keep a promise to a friend, even after death. He'd make sure Brook kept it.

And Zoro--the fucking idiot marimo who'd offered his life in exchange for the Crew's. He was probably the only one who'd understand Sanji and what he was about to do. He even forfeited his dream if that would spare his nakama's lives. They were so alike it was unbelievable.

Sanji's heart clenched at the thought of the marimo, his mind going back to what he had done last night.

He really was a moron, wasn't he?

He had been obsessed with the marimo since the first time he set foot on the Merry, spending as much time annoying him and getting into fights as he did fawning over the girls. And he had been so worried after what happened with Kuma--worried and angry at Zoro for pulling that shit on them and almost dying.

In hindsight one didn't need to be a genius to figure that one out.

Well, he had needed insanity and several rounds against Death itself to see what was in front of his eyes, he certainly hoped Zoro wasn't about to figure it out as well now Sanji wouldn't be around anymore.

It was funny how different were his thoughts about his friends now he had a little hope. Sanji felt slightly ashamed of himself for his previous behaviour, but luckily no one was going to remember.

He was feeling pretty energetic for someone who hadn't slept since forever by the time Robin arrived to change shift, and he greeted her with a wide smile.

"Robin-chwan, you look so lovely this morning!"

And she did, still half asleep and a bit rumpled she was a sight for Sanji's eyes. She returned his smile sleepily. "Good day Cook-san, you look like you are in a good mood today."

"I am. I finally found the answer to a question which was driving me insane."

Quite literally, though he wasn't going to say that.

"Oh, that's good," she said leaning against the window and staring out at the ocean.

"I have to prepare breakfast, Robin-chwan. Do you want something special for today?" he asked though he knew what she was going to say.

"Thank you, Cook-san but the usual is already special enough."

He nodded and went down to the kitchen. He was going to make a breakfast to remember.

It was his last one after all.

…

"Wow Sanji, you outdid yourself today!" Luffy was staring at the lavish spread on the table with wide-eyed wonder, droll already falling down the side of his mouth.

Everyone else seemed to agree with that if the stunned expressions on their faces were anything to go by. Sanji felt a swell of pride and affection in his chest.

"What's the occasion, Cook?" Zoro was the only member of the crew who didn't share their wonder. He was regarding the food with suspicion, his eyes darting from the table to Sanji.

"I just wanted to try something new," Sanji lied, "any problem with that, Marimo?"

"You can try new things anytime, Sanji!" Luffy said enthusiastically around a mouthful of meat and rice, spraying grains wildly on the table. Sanji kicked him for speaking with his mouth full, like he always did, and the rest of the crew took it as their cue to start eating as well.

Sanji observed them, committing every little detail to memory: Luffy's ravenous hunger and simple mind, Usopp's nonstop chatter about some lie or another, Brook's annoying skeleton jokes, Robin's indulgent smile and Nami's mischievous one, Chopper's starry eyed expression and even Zoro's suspicious looks. Those were his nakama and he wanted to remember them just like that, erase those other memories--blood and death and pain--from his mind.

"I'm going to take some of this to Franky," he said gathering some food on a plate before Luffy finished it all.

He climbed up to the Crow's Nest where Franky was staring out of the window at the calm sea. Sanji hadn't really looked at the Triangle during the day, too busy cooking and with everything else happening, but he had to admit it looked beautiful when the waters were calm.

"Oh, thanks, Sanji-bro," Franky said accepting the bottle of cola Sanji offered him.

He had tried to break him of that nasty habit without much success.

"It's calm out there," Franky said finishing the first bottle in one gulp and reaching for the second one. Sanji lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall, his eyes fixed on the blue waters.

"Yes, it is very calm."

"I hope we pick some good wind to take us to Merman Island soon," Franky said putting the second bottle down and starting on the food. "This is really good bro!"

Sanji smiled, "I know."

They stayed in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, the only sounds in the Crow's Nest those of Franky's enjoyment of his breakfast. When he had finished the storm clouds could already be seen approaching.

"Fuck it; I guess this is the Triangle. We'll have a storm on us in a couple of minutes," Franky said looking outside with narrowed eyes. "All hands on deck!" he shouted.

And they were off.

…

For the first time in his life Sanji's hand shook while he was preparing dinner. As the hour approached Sanji's calm wore off, his nerves tingling with fear and excitement, his body inundated by an energy which should have been all but spent.

He didn't even know why he was in the kitchen, pretending everything was normal and starting dinner preparations he wasn't going to finish, but he needed something to keep his hands occupied while he waited for what was to come.

And for Zoro, let's not forget waiting for Zoro. The Marimo was about to enter the kitchen and re-enact their usual scene. Sanji had been looking forward to it all day with a perverse sort of pleasure. He was going to die tonight, he had nothing to lose. Tonight's scene was going to be a bit different; Sanji, for one, intended to tell Zoro everything he had ever wanted to tell the stupid seaweed head.

It was funny how liberating was knowing there would be no consequences, he could curse and kick the bastard and he wouldn't have to answer any of his questions, he didn't need to have a reason. He could even kiss him, safe in the knowledge that however unrequited his affections might be there would be no rejection, no heartbreak.

At least none that lasted for him. It might be different for Zoro and that was the reason he wasn't going to.

Sanji had considered telling the rest of the crew what was going to happen, get their help defeating the enemies but if they knew what he had to do they would never do it willingly. He had to play with his cards close to his chest, but if that was the way to save them then he would.

Even if they hated him for that.

He heard Zoro enter the kitchen and grab the bottle, like every other day, and turned to look at him. Zoro's expression was different that before, he was studying him carefully, nothing new there, but the pinkish tinge on his face when their eyes met made Sanji wonder whether he had any recollection of the previous day's events.

He sure hoped not.

Zoro shook his head as if dislodging a thought. "Something bothering you, Cook?"
"Yes," Sanji said and couldn't help the smirk on his face at Zoro's surprised look. "I want to talk to you about your stupid death wish."

"Is that what had you so pumped up today? Waiting for a chance to tell me off?" Zoro said his mouth twitching up in a smirk of his own.

Sanji laughed, he hadn't felt this good in a long time, the despair he had been feeling allowing him to miss the pleasure it was just being with his nakama. And arguing with the marimo was one of his favourite things. He was sure he was going to miss it.

"Tell you off? No, that would be hypocritical of me, wouldn't it?" he said taking the bottle from the table and opening it. He took a long swig, feeling the burn of the alcohol going down his throat and made a face. Nasty stuff.

"Then what?" Zoro looked puzzled, it was clear the conversation wasn't going in the direction he was expecting.

"Did you stop to think how we would feel if you gave your life for us?" Sanji said going to the wine rack and selecting the best bottle in it. No sense in having the good stuff wasted after he was gone, knowing his nakama they'd probably empty the bottle on the sea the next day.

He'd enjoy it better now.

"No I didn't," Zoro admitted. "I just thought any way you felt would be good since you'd be alive to."

Sanji nodded, that was the answer he was expecting and he hoped Zoro would remember it later on.

"You didn't think about how Luffy would feel, about how I felt," he continued. "But I know why you did it, and I don't want a repeat."

"What do you mean?" Zoro was staring at him intently, his confusion clear.

"Something is going to happen tonight," he finally said.

"What?"

"I can't tell you more, but you have to trust me."

"Are you already drunk, Cook?"

"No! Shut up and listen! Something is going to happen and you will not interfere."

Zoro shook his head stubbornly. "I don't understand a word you're saying."

Sanji sighed feeling his nerves fraying, talking to Zoro usually had that effect on him, no matter how much he tried to stay calm. "You don't need to understand. You just need to trust me and do what I tell you if you want everyone to survive."

"How do you know?" Zoro insisted.

"I just do, don't ask." The only way to do it was to keep them in the dark for as long as possible. "Do you trust me?" he repeated, looking Zoro seriously in the eye.

Zoro narrowed his eyes, studying him, considering. "What is this about, Cook?"

"Fuck, don't ask idiot! Just decide if you trust me or not, we don't have time to discuss it now!" Sanji looked out of the window, the ship would be on sight any minute now and Usopp would shout.

"Tell me what is this about you bastard, you've been acting weird even for you, you think I wouldn't notice? Special breakfast and smiles all day long, even during that storm. Something is wrong with you," Zoro insisted stubbornly.

That fucking stubborn seaweed head, Sanji wanted to kick some sense into him. "Trust me you fucker," he said, almost pleading. "Soon, any minute now, a ship is going to attack us. Do what I tell you and we might have a chance," he said hurriedly, desperately. He needed Zoro to believe him but had no time to convince him he wasn't insane. Or maybe he was, he didn't care anymore, he just knew he had to save them.

"What have you been drinking Cook? What are you--"

"Shut it Zoro!" Sanji finally snapped, his eyes darting to the window again. He had no time to explain. "I've been going through this enough to know what we have to do, just fucking trust me for once in your fucking life without wasting our time with idiotic questions!"

Zoro was going to protest, Sanji knew it.

"Pirates!" Usopp's voice reached them and Zoro's eyes widened, looking out and turning to Sanji again, a thousand questions in his gaze.

"What?"

"No time," Sanji said, hurrying to the door. "Just do what I tell you, I'll explain everything to you later." Or not, Sanji thought, hoping they would forgive him for not being there when everything ended.

"Fine, but this better be good," Zoro said following him outside.

The ship was in view now and Sanji felt a thrill of fear and excitement rushing through his veins. This time he was going to succeed, no matter what, he was going to.

"When I give you the signal you have to push Usopp overboard," he said, eyes fixed on the Black Ship so he missed Zoro's reaction.

There was no way he would have missed the shout of outrage right in his ear, though. "The fuck! Are you completely raving mad, Cook?"

Sanji turned to look at him, his eyes shinning with insanity and bloodlust. He saw Zoro flinch but didn't care. "Look, just fucking do it ok, you'll understand when the time comes. Stick to Usopp and when I give you the signal toss him overboard, it's the only way--" Sanji looked around and saw everything was in place already. He had wasted precious seconds talking to Zoro. "Fuck!"

"Ew, that has to be the most disgusting Jolly Roger I've seen," Nami was saying and Sanji didn't wait more, he rushed to her side.

"Nami," he said, "listen to me, you have to use the clima tact to create a fog in the Sunny," he said, noticing Zoro had followed him and was listening to his conversation with interest. He saw Zoro raising an eyebrow and realized he had called Nami without the honorific, but he had no time to spare even for courtesy.

Nami looked at him, her brows rushing together in a frown, "But we won't be able to see the enemy if we do that," she said.

"No, that's the only way we will be able to see them. Trust me."

Sanji realized he had been asking his nakama to trust him without giving them an explanation but there was nothing he could do about it.

"Are you sure about that, Cook-san?" Robin said from Nami's side.

"Yes."

Robin nodded and Nami looked first at her and then at Sanji. "Fine, I'll do it but you owe me an explanation."

"Yes, yes, I know," he said impatiently, "Franky! Stay close to the girls, don't go off on your own or I'll kick your arse from here to Merman Island, got it?"

"What's with you, bro?" Franky asked frowning.

"No time to explain!" The hooded figures would be appearing any second now.

"Listen to Cook-san, Franky," Robin said and Franky nodded a tad reluctantly.

"Fine."

Sanji sighed relieved; everything was going to be fine.

…

The fog wasn't only so they could see the enemy, at least not this time. The fact that the crew wasn't able to see each other in the middle of the whiteness worked to Sanji's advantage, he had the positions of everyone memorized and their movements imprinted in his mind. The only two variables were Zoro and Franky, but he had already taken care of that.

The important part was that they wouldn't be able to see him.

He knew he had to let them fight, there was no way they wouldn't, and he also had to fight and try to stay alive until the timing was right. Usopp was the key; he was always the first one to fall so Sanji had to make sure he wouldn't.

He was getting better at avoiding those damned Zoans; the trick was keeping ahead of them now he could see them and dodge their hits.

He kept all his senses trained on the fight while he moved out of the way, avoiding as much damage as he could and slowly circling the position where he knew the girls were, Usopp and Zoro close by.

He could hear screams of rage and terror and a faint sobbing close by. It was almost time.

"Robin, Nami don't worry," Sanji heard his Captain say. "I'll defeat these guys, whoever they are."

The faint clunk of metal hitting the railing told him Luffy was trying to stand in his weakened state. He remembered what came next and got out of the way just in time to avoid his hand being crushed. Those fuckers weren't only persistent, they were also repetitive.

He'd have to thank them for that.

"Zoro, now!" he shouted and the next he heard was the loud splash of several bodies hitting the water and a gunshot. No screams came but he could swear Usopp's voice was still cursing from the unseen waters.

"What the fuck?" Zoro's surprised voice reached him from Usopp's place next to the railing. He must have noticed the gunshot.

"The girls, marimo! Do the same!" he shouted and turned to where he guessed Franky would be on the other side of them.

He was so focused on getting there he couldn't dodge a blow to his side, pain exploding in his waist and ribs and making his vision swim for a second. Fuck!

He doggedly continued moving forward, seeing Franky's form in front of him.

"Sorry Franky," he said before aiming a kick to his chest.

Franky barely had the time to look at him surprised before he was falling overboard, a loud curse falling from his mouth. Sanji smiled, only one more.

Without pausing, Sanji turned to where Zoro was, hoping to catch him unawares as well but knowing it was going to be more difficult. He was right. The first kick was parried with a sword, Zoro glaring daggers at him.

"What is this all about?" he asked slashing one of the things coming at him from the side, his eyes never leaving Sanji.

Sanji didn't say anything. There was nothing to say, he ducked low when the next hit came his way and observed Zoro, timing his next attack carefully. Now there were only the two of them and all the enemies on the ship, and Zoro was already bleeding again.

His chance came pretty quickly, the Zoans attacking in twos now they had the advantage of number. Zoro moved his eyes away from Sanji for an instant to counter a blow and that was all he needed.

He felt his kick connect and could see Zoro's disgruntled expression and he fell over the railing, his hands trying to find purchase on the wet wood but hindered by his own swords.

"Fucking bastard!" Zoro shouted and Sanji turned away from the railing and walked to the other side.

He had won.

There was a howl of rage, the first sound he had ever heard the enemy making, and then the shot which told him his victory was complete.

…

Sanji saw the woman appear and smiled, trying to lift his hand to light a cigarette but unable to muster the strength for it.

"I guess this is it," he said, his voice weak and barely audible. "I won."

You did.

He could hear faintly in the distance the sound of heavy boots hitting the deck and guessed his kick had not thrown the marimo as far as he had hoped.

He didn't want to see his face right now, not when he was about to leave. He had a moment to be grateful for the mist still covering the ship.

"So I was right, they couldn't be in the same place you were," he said and the woman nodded.

Death spared them once, but it wasn't me so they flee when I arrive, just in case I take them, she said and something in her voice told Sanji it might not be the complete truth but he didn't care.

"Oi Cook!" Zoro's voice reached him and Sanji tired to turn his head to look that way. "Sanji! Answer me!"

"Shall we go now? I'd rather not have to say goodbye to them," he said to the woman and she leaned forward, her hand reaching out to him.

Yes, we'll leave in a minute.

"Sanji! Answer me you bastard!" It sounded closer and far, far away at the same time, and Sanji closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, his body feeling numb and cold already.

It was time.

"Thank you," he muttered letting darkness take him under.

Thank you.

…

Epilogue

Op fic: Once More With Feeling - Day 6

Mon, 06 Apr 2009 22:31:00 GMT

I finally realized I won't be able to do anything else until I finish this, so here we go. Almost done, next bit will follow like really soon.

Title: Once more with feeling - Day 6
Author: aviss
Pairing: Zoro/+Sanji
Rating: R
Genre: Drama, Angst, Horror.
Warning: Violence, character deaths (only not)
Disclaimer: So disclaimed.
Summary: Sanji is given a second chance to set things right. And a third. And a fourth…
Word Count: ~2.500 this part

Day 1
Day 2
Day 3
Day 4
Day 5

Day 6

"Oi Cook, you fell asleep in the galley again and it's your watch now," Zoro said his voice a gruff whisper.

"Go to sleep you dumbass, I'm awake," Sanji whispered not looking up.

Sanji didn't even bother to stand up from the bench, what was the point? It would get the same results if he stayed there all day long and waited for death. It was going to come anyway and nothing Sanji did was going to change that.

"Oi Cook, what are you doing? Move it!" Zoro said, his stare so intense Sanji could feel it almost like a touch on the back of his neck.

He sighed tiredly and stood up, ignoring Zoro completely and going straight to the Crow's Nest.

He didn't have the energy to argue with the marimo, he didn't have the energy to do anything, if truth be told. He just wanted to close his eyes and sleep forever.

Getting angry at the world for the unfairness of everything accomplished nothing and used up more energy than Sanji could spare at the time. He felt as if just breathing took an immense toll on him.

And he still had two days more to endure.

He sat down and closed his eyes not wanting to look out and see the bad omen reflected bloodily on the black waters. He already knew it meant death.

He didn't know what to do anymore and was already past the point where it mattered. He didn't have time to think; now it was the time to act. But he had no bleeding clue of how.

He never imagined a day would come where he'd give up on something important.

But was else could he do? Everything he tried failed and the only thing he had accomplished in the past few days was to see his friends die again and again. He knew by heart now everyone's expressions when the light went out of their eyes. Usopp's surprised face, Nami's anguished one, Robin's desperate, Franky's pained and Zoro's horrified. He had been spared the other three but his mind was more than happy to supply it for him.

Sanji knew if he ever got to sleep again he was going to see them in his nightmares forever.

Not that he believed he could survive. He was convinced they weren't going to. And he was too fucking tired and heartsick to get angry with Death anymore: it wasn't her fault she had picked the wrong one to give this chance to.

She should have chosen Zoro.

The marimo, suicidal idiot that he was, had at least saved his nakama when push came to shove. It was more than could be said for Sanji.

He felt a hysterical laugh bubbling up inside of him and forced himself to calm down. He really wasn't strong enough and his nakama were the ones paying the price. Talk about irony.

He was envious of Zoro for doing what he couldn't; he must have lost it completely.

He closed his eyes, feeling the sting of unshed tears, and took several deep breaths. Robin was about to arrive, it wouldn't do to have her see him in that state.

The day had barely started and he was already like this.

It was going to be a hell of a long day.

…

When the storm was finally over, the sea calm and placid as if nothing had ever happened there, Sanji let himself slide on to the deck and closed his eyes for a second, breathing deeply.

He knew he had to go and start dinner but there was no point in it, was there? He was never going to finish it. There was no hurry, he could take a breather out here with his crew mates before going to kitchen, or he could just put off going inside for one day.

No one was going to know the difference.

The sound of his nakama's voices filled the silence left in the wake of the wind and rain after a few minutes, all of them cheerful and so very alive it broke Sanji's heart to know the laughs would turn into screams soon enough. Yeah, he would just stay there and soak in their happiness-filled voices while he could.

"What's wrong Zoro?" Luffy's voice called Sanji attention back to the present and he opened one eye lazily.

Zoro was standing in front of him, staring at Sanji with an alien expression on his face.

Oh right, Sanji thought idly, of course the one to notice had to be the marimo.

"Got a problem, Marimo?" Sanji asked, not moving from his spot on the deck.

Zoro stared at him intently, his brow creased by a thin line and his lips pressed tightly together. He tilted his head to the side, still studying Sanji, and then looked at the galley. His gesture seemed to say Sanji should be somewhere else but there were no words coming from his mouth.

"Sanji I'm starving!" Luffy said from somewhere behind Zoro, his voice full of eagerness and not a little pleading. "Are you going to make dinner?"

Sanji resisted the urge to sigh loudly and pushed himself up, dusting off his suit and stretching his tired body. "Right now, Luffy," he said looking at his Captain and returning the brilliant smile flashed at him with a pale imitation of his own.

He hoped Luffy wouldn't notice.

"I want meat!"

"You always do," Sanji said turning around with a last look at the still unmoving marimo and heading to the kitchen.

Zoro entered right after him and took what Sanji privately thought as his usual sit at the table, staring silently at him with the closed bottle of rum next to his hand. Sanji ignored him while he took out the vegetables and the meat. Under normal circumstances he would never use food he knew was not going to be consumed, but this was far from normal.

And besides, nobody could expect him to stay calm and composed with Zoro staring at him in that way. He needed to do something with his hands.

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence Sanji turned to look at him, "Look Marimo, whatever it is you want to talk about I don't care," he said in a low voice, barely audible in the silent kitchen. "Take your booze and get out."

"Something bothering you, Cook?" Zoro said, persistent as only the little bugger could be.

Sanji sighed tiredly. "No, nothing is fucking bothering me but you right now," he said shaking his head, "I'm exhausted and the day is not over yet, I don't want to have the same stupid conversation again and again," he turned his back to Zoro and waited for him to leave so he could just rest for a few minutes before the last part of the show started.

Zoro didn't move. "No, you have been staring at me since I woke up two days ago," Zoro insisted. "Is there something you wanna tell me?"

Sanji rolled his eyes this time. Fucking stubborn Marimo.

"Can we not do this now?" he muttered under his breath. "Look Zoro, just leave me alone for a second, ok? We'll repeat this tomorrow so I don't see the point right now."

Zoro stared at him as if he had lost his mind, which thinking about it was not so far off the mark. He certainly felt as if he had.

"You're acting weird, Cook."

"Yes, I know. Now fuck off from here," he said finally raising his voice, his patience with Zoro running out.

Zoro glared at him and stubbornly refused to move.

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Do you want to have the conversation about Kuma now? You win, we'll have it," Sanji dropped his knives on the counter and walked up to the marimo. "Do you want me to tell you what a stupid, completely retarded, suicidal bastard you are? Because I thought you were one before. But not now, now I understand you and I'd do the same if given the chance!"

Zoro smirked, "You tried."

"I know." He closed his eyes wondering why he even bothered. Of course he had tried, but unlike Zoro he failed. He kept failing. Was there a point to keep trying if he was not to succeed? "Just go Zoro, I'm tired of this endless conversation."

"What are you--?"

"Pirates!"

Sanji opened his eyes again and he must have looked pretty bad at the moment because Zoro's smirk vanished, replaced by something like concern.

"Time's up," he said, and he forced his body to move outside, each step feeling like something was being torn inside of him.

He really didn't want to go, but what else could he do?

…

Sanji watched the fight proceed with disinterest, feeling oddly detached from the events taking place around him. He didn't even care about the damage done to his body, nor had he asked Nami to help with the fog.

It wouldn't make any difference. It hadn't before.

Zoro thudded against the railing next to Sanji, the wind knocked out of him from a blow. He turned to look at Sanji with the most incredulous expression he had even seen, "What the fuck are you doing Cook?" he shouted, parrying and invisible blow with his sword.

Sanji looked at him and shrugged, lighting a cigarette and taking a long draw, choking on the smoke when something hit him in the stomach.

"Nothing," he said when he got his breath back, "it won't change the outcome, so I'm not going to even bother."

The next hit he saw but didn't bother to dodge either, Zoro's punch almost enough to make him topple overboard.

"Fucking shitty cook, what's your problem?" Zoro shouted in his face, the anger and worry coming from him almost tangible. He grabbed Sanji's lapels and bodily moved him away from the railing a second before a bullet hit the wood where he had been.

Sanji let himself be manhandled that way, not fighting against Zoro for the first time in his life. The last one too at the rate things were moving.

That thought alone was enough to make him bark a laugh, the sound so brittle it made his own flesh crawl.

He was officially insane.

Around them the sounds of the fight were raising in pitch, the screams turning more desperate by the second. A gunshot tore the air at Sanji's back and he sighed.

"There goes Usopp," he said under his breath and Zoro looked at him with horror, his eyes darting between Sanji's face and the place where Usopp had fallen.

"What?"

"You're next," Sanji said eyes shinning with madness. Zoro visibly flinched and tried to move away from him.

Sanji's hands moved of their own accord, fisting on Zoro's shirt and keeping him close. He didn't know what strange impulse made him do that, and had no idea of what he was going to do next until he leaned forward and pressed him mouth against Zoro's.

It was brief and clumsy, and could hardly be considered a kiss. Zoro's lips tasted of blood and his expression was one Sanji had never seen. Maybe he was also a little insane.

Sanji laughed again.

"Goodbye Zoro," he said releasing him. Zoro fell on top on Sanji first, his eyes closing a he slid down, finally resting on the deck.

Sanji took a step back and turned to lean against the railing again, facing the ship. He looked around and saw he was, like every other time, the last one standing.

And now it was his turn to die.

Just one more day and he would never have to see this again.

He felt the pain of the shot at the same time he heard it, his eyes closing of their own accord. He forced them open again, wanting to see the moment when Death would come for him.

He wanted to tell her she had won; she could take him whenever she wanted. The sooner the better.

One more day of this was one day too many.

She appeared, her form materializing on the deck and Sanji saw surprised how the hooded figured vanished at the same time. As if they couldn't share the same space. He listened to see if he could catch the sound of the other things and noticed that he was indeed alone with her.

Oh shit.

He was really an idiot!

A humourless laugh bubbled up inside him and Sanji pressed his lips together to keep it locked. He knew that if he let it out he might not come back from that dark and empty place he had spent the day in.

It was time to come back to his senses.

He'd finally figured it out.

…

"You are the way to stop them, are you not?" Sanji asked looking at the woman, finally understanding. It was easy to see once you knew where to look for the clues but it had taken him all that time to notice.

Yes, she smiled turning into the beautiful young girl again.

"What are those hooded things?"

Nothing but shadows. Petty tricks to distract you so you won't see the real enemy. The one leading them, he's is the dangerous one.

Sanji took a cigarette from his pocket with his good hand, put it in his mouth and lit it enjoying the nicotine and the knowledge that he was going to win. He finally knew how.

"I've never seen anything but them."

I know. He doesn't show himself, not if he can help it. But he's there, in the Black Ship, collecting souls that don't belong to him.

Sanji smiled. "But not mine."

Yours is mine, I marked you the first night.

Sanji nodded taking a drag of his cigarette. "Why?"

The girl approached him, crouching in front of his body and extending her hand to touch his face. It went through it but Sanji could swear he felt a hint of warmness. Once he was one of ours--my brother--but he wasn't satisfied with the lives he took and soon started hungering for more. He had to be punished, but we only managed to seal him within the Triangle under the curse of the red moon, limit the souls he has access to and hope we can help those he gets his hands to.

"I see."

You're not angry or scared, she said softly, smiling.

Sanji laughed, a sound so alien after the desperation of the last days he thought it might come from someone else. "You're giving me the chance to save my nakama."

At a price.

Sanji looked around at the bleak scene, the corpses and empty spaces left around the Sunny. He looked at Zoro's body and was grateful the marimo wouldn't remember what he had done.

Everything was going to be fine and they'd never need to know the cost.

"Cheap."

She smiled and Sanji closed his eyes.

Somehow he couldn't wait for morning to come.

…

Day 7

OP fic: Once More with Feeling - Day 5

Sat, 04 Apr 2009 11:49:22 GMT

Title: Once more with feeling - Day 5
Author: aviss
Pairing: Zoro/+Sanji
Rating: R
Genre: Drama, Angst, Horror.
Warning: Violence, character deaths (only not)
Disclaimer: So disclaimed.
Summary: Sanji is given a second chance to set things right. And a third. And a fourth…
Word Count: ~3.100 this part

Day 1
Day 2
Day 3
Day 4

Day 5

"Oi Cook, you fell asleep in the galley again and it's your watch now," Zoro said his voice a gruff whisper. He looked half asleep and Sanji stifled a yawn.

"Go to sleep you dumbass, I'm awake," he said in a low whisper, despair and exhaustion clear in his voice. He couldn't do it anymore, couldn't stand the sight of his nakama dying around him for another day. The old woman was right, he wasn't strong enough.

Zoro might have felt something strange in his voice because he didn't move, didn't leave the galley.

"Are you sick, Cook?" Zoro asked, frowning.

Yes, I am. I am sick and tired of seeing you die every single night and being too fucking useless to stop it, Sanji was so tempted to say that, but he couldn't muster the energy for it. He just shrugged. "Go away Zoro, I'm fine," he said in the same defeated tone. Zoro looked like he wanted to protest, he opened his mouth and whatever it was he was going to say was cut off by a gigantic yawn. "Just go, I'll be in the Crow's Nest in a minute," Sanji said forestalling his protest and closing his eyes again.

The silence in the galley was thick and filled with unspoken questions, Zoro still staring at Sanji, not leaving.

It didn't take long for it to annoy the hell out of Sanji.

He opened his eyes and glared at the silent marimo, the anger he was feeling disproportionate for the cause, but Sanji was too tired and hurt to care. He needed a good night sleep, or better make it a week. And he needed to know his friends would be there when he woke up.

"Get the fuck out of here, Marimo," he snapped standing up and Zoro's worried frown melted into a scowl, his sleepiness vanishing in the wake of an expression Sanji was more used to: anger.

"What is your problem, Cook?" Zoro growled taking a step toward him. "It's your fucking watch now, you want to ditch it?"

Sanji fished inside his jacket pocket for a cigarette, lighting it and blowing the smoke on Zoro's face, gearing out for a fight. That was what he really needed to make him feel better, a fight he could win.

That mere thought made his anger deflate.

It wasn't Zoro the one he wanted to fight, the one he needed to defeat. And taking it out on him wasn't going to change the outcome of the night's events.

Suddenly Sanji felt very, very tired again. Zoro was staring at him with narrowed eyes, hands on the hilt of his swords and his entire posture radiating menace, but he wasn't attacking, he was merely responding to Sanji's provocation.

He shook his head and averted his eyes, turning to the door. "I'm going now, you go to sleep idiot. If we fight now and you get a single scratch on you Chopper will have my hide for it," he said before leaving.

He heard Zoro say something which sounded suspiciously like bastard cook but decided it was wisest to just ignore it.

When he got to the Crow's Nest he rested with his back against the window, not wanting to see the crimson moon reflected in the black waters. Somehow it made him think of blood pooling on the Sunny, like it had been the night before, and he was sure he wouldn't stand it.

He needed to clear his head before facing another hellish day.

His mind had other ideas, however. It kept going back to the previous night and his conversation with the old woman.

He hadn't been thinking clearly when he tried to attack her, but it was too much to ask of him that he would keep his head after suffering everyone's death day after day. He was strong but he wasn't a monster. Nobody would be able to stand that for long.

And Death--she had admitted they wouldn't be able to defeat those things. If that was true, why the fuck she kept making Sanji relive it again and again? Did she expect him to say "I give up, take us all"?

If she did she was very close to getting what she wanted.

But it couldn't be it, it just couldn't. She had been the one who gave him a chance, why give him hope only to make him suffer a fate worse than death?

Just thinking about it was making Sanji get angry again, and this time he didn't even try to talk himself out of it.

Anger was a thousand times better than hopelessness in his book.

…

By the time Robin arrived to take over the watch Sanji had worked himself into a state of rightful fury and was relishing the feeling. He had been so immersed in pain and despair for the past five days it was a welcomed change.

He nursed the feeling all the way to breakfast: he was angry with the old woman for putting him through that shit, he was furious with his nakama for being oblivious to his suffering and dying on him again and again, but mostly he was livid with himself for being so fucking weak and feeling that way.

It was vicious circle he didn't know how to break, so he got more and more angry instead.

He worked on breakfast with short and jerky movements which would have made Zeff kick the shit out of him had he known, his knives hitting the cutting board with so much force Sanji knew they had to be leaving permanent marks. He didn't care; he had never felt so alone in his entire life and needed to take it out on something.

In his mind he kept calling his nakama every name in the book, the rational part of his brain cringing with shame at the unfairness of it.

Luffy was a big oaf of a Captain who couldn't swim or navigate, had about the same common sense as a spoon and was always chasing after stupid adventures and getting them killed.

Usopp was a big coward with an even bigger mouth, completely useless in a fight and so unreliable the only thing he was good for was to be the ship's clown.

Chopper should've been eaten a long time ago for all the good he did in a fight.

Franky was a perverted bastard whose only redeeming point was his skill at making weapons, weapons which had not saved anyone so he might as well have stayed in Water 7.

Brook was dead and still needed rescuing again and again. One couldn't get more useless than that.

And Zoro. Zoro was the worst of the lot, all brawn and no brain. The fucking marimo was only good for bleeding on things and making a doctor a necessity on the ship. For all his strength he died like the rest of them. And he annoyed Sanji like no one else ever did.

He spared the girls, knowing even in his state that he would never forgive himself if he insulted them even in the privacy of his own head. He had not sunk so low yet but he didn't make any promises for the next day.

He was almost shaking with fury and self-loathing when the door opened and Robin entered the kitchen and he made a conscious effort to calm himself. She stopped barely inside, staring at Sanji with a thoughtful expression.

"Are you all right, Cook-san?" Robin asked after a long searching look.

Sanji took a breath and clenched his jaw, turning back to the stove to finish composing himself. He poured a mug of steaming coffee and gave it to Robin with a small smile.

"Yes Robin-chan, just tired," he said. The smile must have looked as forced and brittle as it felt on his face but Robin said nothing, she only nodded and took her usual sit.

She didn't say anything else, just sat in silence sipping her coffee and watching Sanji with a slight frown on her pretty face.

"Sanjiiiiiii, I'm starving!" Luffy's usual shout accompanied the crew's arrival for breakfast and Sanji had a moment of intense dislike for them, so happy and oblivious. He glared at his nakama with narrowed eyes for a second and then caught Robin's surprised look and turned to the plates, taking deep breaths to control his emotions.

Fuck, he was totally losing it.

His mood didn't take long to spread to the rest of them, breakfast quickly turning into a tense and silent affair, all eyes fixed on him. The only person acting normally was Luffy, cramming his mouth with as much food as he could and munching away happily.

"What's wrong with you, shitty-cook?" Zoro's voice broke the uncomfortable silence, "You've been glaring at us all the time."

Sanji turned to respond and saw Robin putting a hand on the marimo's arm and shake her head.

"Cook-san is tired, Zoro," she said with a small smile, "He had watch before so he probably just needs to rest."

Zoro looked like he wanted to say something else and Sanji silently dared him to. He was itching for a good fight; he had been since he woke up.

Zoro stared at him a second longer and then turned to Robin with a little nod before leaving the kitchen. The rest of the crew took it as their signal to leave as well, only Robin remaining sitting in her place, eyes fixed on Sanji.

"Cook-san," she said slowly, as if talking to a dangerous and frightened animal, "is something bothering you? You seem tense."

He really wanted to hit something, rage at the world and scream to be left the fuck alone, but this was Robin and he couldn't do something like that in her presence. Sanji sighed and leaned against the counter tiredly. "I might be coming down with something, Robin-chan," he lied not looking at her. He knew she wasn't going to buy it, but he also knew she wasn't going to press him for the truth.

"You do look pale and tired," she said standing up and walking up to him, putting her hand against his forehead. Normally such an expression of concern form one of the girls would have turned him into a gooey mass of happy cook, today it didn't muster more than a thrill of grateful excitement. "Maybe you should have Chopper give you a check up and take a nap before lunch."

Sanji smiled and this time it felt real, "If only I could," he said wistfully, "but there is no time."

Robin looked at him puzzled for second and then blinked surprised when Franky's shout called everyone outside.

"Time for the show to begin," Sanji muttered under his breath and follower her to the deck to face the storm.

…

Sanji retreated to the kitchen right after the storm to wait for Zoro; most of the calmness he got in the morning during his conversation with Robin was gone, leaving only the writhing fury within him and that awful feeling of loneliness.

It was so strange to feel that way with all his nakama around.

It was nobody's fault, really, and he knew this. He couldn't help what he felt, though. The fact that they didn't know what he knew and couldn't share the burden was eating at him, and knowing the moment to see them die again was approaching because he wasn't strong enough to stop it. It was driving him crazy.

He heard the door open and close but there were no footsteps. Surprised Sanji turned around and found himself alone in the empty kitchen.

"Is not a good time now, Swordsman-san," Robin's voice reached him from outside the door. "Cook-san is not feeling well and had no time to rest with the storm."

"I don't care what the idiot cook needs," Zoro said loud enough Sanji didn't need to strain to hear it. He gritted his teeth and wished Robin wouldn't meddle in that, he wanted to kick the idiot's head in right then and there. "He's been snapping at everyone and glaring the entire day, he owes us an explanation."

"If you go there now is not an explanation what you will get, it's a kick," Robin said and she sounded too amused for Sanji's peace of mind.

"Fine with me," Zoro replied and Sanji saw the door moving an inch and then close again.

"Chopper will be very upset if you damage your body more, Swordsman-san."

Sanji rolled his eyes. It wouldn't make a difference soon enough but it seemed to be the thing to say because when the door opened it was Robin who entered, not Zoro.

"Ah Cook-san," she said smiling and Sanji turned his back to her and began chopping things at random, looking for all the world as if he had not been eavesdropping. She didn't buy it. "I need to get a bottle of rum for Zoro."

"In the rack," Sanji replied curtly, torn between annoyance at her intervention and amusement at how well she handled them. "Why isn't the marimo getting his own stuff, he shouldn't be making a lovely lady do his work."

"Thank you. Is dinner going to be soon? Luffy is already trying to eat Chopper," she said not really answering his question. Not that it was needed; Sanji knew perfectly well why he wasn't there.

"Pirates!" Usopp's shout prevented the conversation to continue and Robin gave Sanji a questioning look when he sighed tiredly.

"Let's go," he said not looking at her, "it seems this day is not over yet."

…

Sanji didn't waste any time once they were outside, walking up to Nami and requesting the same thing again. Nami looked at him puzzled and asked if he was insane, but she did what she was told the moment the first unseen hit landed on her.

The rest of the fight went much the same way it did the day before, Sanji fighting like a madman, trying to kick and cut everything on his path.

At some point he collided against Zoro, cursing at him and feeling so tempted to aim the next kick at his head he wasn't able to dodge a hit to his side.

"Fuck! Fucking Marimo, if you're not going to help at least don't hinder me!" he shouted, all sense of purpose and reality almost lost.

Zoro shot him a glare but didn't say anything, his white sword clamped firmly between his teeth and blood dripping from a wound in his arm. He turned to cut down the attacking enemy, gritting his teeth against the hilt of his sword when it stood up again.

"Fucking useless every single one of them," Sanji muttered under his breath, the pain on his side making him angrier.

"What the fuck is your problem, Cook?" Zoro shouted while he dodged a blow and parried with one of his own.

"Nothing, nothing is my problem marimo," Sanji said kicking the panther-woman in the middle and sending her sprawling. "Just fight and try not to die for once."

If looks could kill Sanji would have died on the spot, not that he needed any help for that considering how the fight was going.

"Fucking stupid cook," Zoro said and was going to lunge at Sanji when he stopped cold, a gunshot ringing in the ship. The screams that followed only made it worse, Zoro's eyes widening and looking frantically around, trying to see something in the mist. "What?"

"Fuck no!"

All the anger drained from Sanji in an instant, despair replacing it as if it had never left. No. Not again.

He wanted to close his eyes and make everything disappear.

"Sanji what are you doing! Move!" Zoro shouted and gave him a push out of the way and the next Sanji saw was Zoro crumbling on the deck, bleeding profusely from a wide wound on his chest.

"No, stop, stop it!" Sanji shouted, the mist lifting finally to allow him to see the carnage around him.

Again he was the last one standing. Again he had failed.

And again he closed his eyes and waited for her.

…

"I don't want to talk to you, let me die in peace," Sanji whispered when the woman appeared in front of him again.

Today had been the worst of all, and the previous ones had been bad enough. It wasn't just seeing his friends die and not being able to stop them. The knowledge that it would happen again was eating at him, and in spite of her assurances that there was a way out, Sanji couldn't find it.

The torture was unbearable. He had the chance to save everyone but he wasn't smart enough to figure it out. Maybe this was his punishment for some heinous deed in a previous life.

You've really given up. she said and she sounded so damned disappointed Sanji felt something for the first time in the whole day.

"Go away," he said angrily, his fury choking the words.

I can't. Not without you.

"Is that what you want? Is that what I have to do?" Sanji shouted uncaring, for the first time in his life, that she was a woman or that she claimed to be helping them. This wasn't a normal woman anyway, no matter the shape she took. She was Death, more than that she had to be a devil to put him through all that.

Maybe he was already in Hell and he had not realised yet.

She wasn't answering but she was staring at him with a pointed look on her face and Sanji felt again like an idiot. She was trying to tell him something and he was too tired and too depressed to think clearly.

He almost didn't care anymore.

"You want me to die?" he asked acidly, all his frustration and anger coming out. "Fine, I'm dying. That's the reason you're here, isn't it?"

She shook her head sadly, still not saying anything. It was the first time she had not given him any information and Sanji hated her at that moment more than anything else in his life.

"Fine, have it your way!" He said closing his eyes and waiting for the end.

It didn't take long.

…

Day 6

Bleach Fic: None so Blind

Thu, 02 Apr 2009 22:22:12 GMT

Title: None so blind
Author: aviss
Characters: Hitsugaya+/Matsumoto
Rating: PG
Warning: Character Deaths
Summary: Matsumoto has troubles coping with reality. Or maybe she knows something the rest of the world doesn’t.
Word Count: ~1.600
Notes: I started to write this a long time ago (think about before Matsumoto's fight, that long ago) so it wildly deviates from canon as we know now. I found it today and realized it was only missing a couple hundred words so I finished it.

None so blind

Soul Society declared an entire week of mourning before the restoration. The war against Aizen had not been long but it had been costly, its price almost too high to pay in Matsumoto's opinion.

There had been no Division unscathed--some were worse than others, but all of them would need a long time to recover.

The first funeral had been the hardest. The entire sixth division stood on guard for a day, eyes dry and composed expression hiding their grief while they watched over the body of Kuchiki Byakuya, their only loss and the hardest to bear. Byakuya would have been proud of them; not a single tear had been spilled while he was still present.

There were more after that one, but it was the one which stood present in her mind for the longest time.

The rowdy eleventh drank itself into a stupor as a man celebrating the courage of Madarame Ikkaku among others. Yumichika had been almost unconscious by the end, and Matsumoto could swear she saw tears on his face while he spoke of his jealousy of Ikkaku's death. The spartan bastard considered an honour to lose his best friend while he killed an Arrancar.

The third, the ninth, the second--all the other funerals blurred in her mind, turning into one huge mess of pain and grief and tears.

The tenth, her own division, held a funeral as well. Some of the lower seats had lost their lives in the fight; it would be unfair to deny them the honour. And she had been there, her eyes drawn all the time to the empty space by her side and the empty coffin on display. They had covered it with his spare haori, almost having to take it by force from her hands. No one listened to her--he might still need it when he came back.

She made sure to retrieve it afterwards.

Matsumoto had also received a white haori with the tenth emblazoned in the back. Big enough for her.

Too big in her opinion. She didn't intend to use it. Ever.

She would be acting-Taichou while he found his way back, nothing more. And she didn't need special clothing for that.

…

"Hinamori-kun!" Matusmoto called after the girl on her way back to the Taisha.

Momo stopped and waited for her to catch up, a gentle smile on her lips. "Matsumoto-san, how good to see you," she said politely, falling into step with her.

Momo looked almost as she did before everything happened; all her wounds finally healed except for the sadness surrounding her like a cloud. She had even resumed her old obligations as the fifth division fukutaichou, and it seemed to be doing wonders for her keeping busy.

Time healed everything, as the saying went. In her case it was almost true.

Almost.

"How are you holding up, Hinamori-kun?"

"Fine, just fine," Momo said with an absent smile, "things are so hectic I have no time to catch my breath. So many things to do."

"Tell me about it!" Matsumoto agreed. Two years after the war and they were still recovering from it. "I have a meeting this afternoon to select new trainees for my division, and what I heard from Renji is they are a bunch of morons."

Momo laughed, "I know, they seem so young, so innocent--" she trailed off and her expression clouded. "I thought that was the Taichou's job, anyway. Is Shiro-chan too busy to attend?"

Matsumoto looked at her sadly but didn't correct her, "Yes, he's not back yet."

As if a veil had lifted from her eyes Momo smiled again. "Oh yes, that mission. I wonder when he will be back. Will he bring Aizen-taichou with him?" Matsumoto suppressed a shudder at the name; it still had too many bad memories attached. "Not that I'm unhappy with Kurosaki-taichou, but he's a bit forceful and--never mind, I hope he doesn’t take it badly when Taichou returns and takes over the division again. I like him anyway."

Matsumoto nodded dumbly, unable to say anything and not knowing what could be said in any case.

"Oh, I shouldn't keep you, Matsumoto-san! Tell Shiro-chan to come visit me when he returns, I haven't seen him in ages."

She mustered a smile and nodded again. She loved seeing Momo recovered, though she still had a long way to go to accept things completely. Matsumoto just didn't have the heart to destroy her dream world.

She went back to her Taisha and grabbed the white armband she wore with her division number, looking at the two haoris hanging next to door.

Maybe Momo wasn’t the only one living in a fantasy world.

…

"Matsumoto-san."

Matsumoto tried not to squirm under Yamamoto-soutaichou's grim countenance and piercing stare, succeeding only by sheer force of will.

"I need to have a word with you now, please follow me."

She did, Renji's sympathetic look following her out of the meeting room. It wasn't the first time she had been called to Yamamoto's office after a meeting, but this time she had the feeling there would be no praises or good news. She was in a world of trouble.

"Matsumoto-san," he began once they were behind closed doors. "How long have you been in your current position?"

"Five years, Soutaichou," she replied simply, there was no point lying. He had been, after all, the one who appointed her for the position ignoring her wishes.

"And, after all this time you still refuse to wear your rightful mark as a Taichou and elect a second in command," he said.

She could see he was not really angry with her, just disappointed. That hurt even more. She looked at her feet.

"Matsumoto-san, I know this is difficult for you--"

"The division works fine, Soutaichou," she interrupted him, "I can cope with the workload and the seated officers are of great help."

"That's not the point, Matsumoto-san," he said. His expression gentled then. "Hitsugaya-kun is not coming back. I swear you're worse than Hinamori-kun in this subject. At least she knows, most of the time."

"He might--"

"He won't. He's dead."

Matsumoto squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. When she looked at him again her eyes where bright and there was an infinite sadness in them.

"What do you want me to do?" She finally said.

"I want you to move on, Matsumoto-san."

They didn't say anything for a while, the silence turning awkward with each passing second.

"I'll appoint a Fukutaichou this week, Soutaichou."

"Good."

There was nothing else for her to say. If she didn't they would give her someone to fill the position and that was something she didn't want. She had been pushing her luck with this as it was.

"As for the other?" She asked quietly.

Yamamoto sighed resigned. "Do as you will, Matsumoto-san."

"Thanks."

…

It was too tight and short, looking almost ridiculous on her but she wore it anyway.
The sides didn't cover her breasts, not even close to doing it, and it was barely long enough to cover her bottom. Matsumoto didn't care.

It had been a long time for it to carry his scent, but she still found it comforting.

There had been stares and comments, and the first time she went like that to a meeting Yamamoto-soutaichou had looked at her with pity in his eyes but said nothing.

There had been no laughs or snickers; she would have probably beaten the poor sod if there were.

In her division she found a new respect shining in their eyes, and that was all that mattered.

…

Matsumoto woke up in the middle of the night, her heart pounding against her ribcage.

He was back.

Hyorinmaru is back. That was what Haineko said in her mind, just a whisper, but enough for her to wake up instantly, the blood rushing in her ears and a smile spreading on her face.

Finally.

"Take me to him," she asked, standing up hurriedly and getting dressed.

She ran out of Seiretei, following Haineko's instructions until they reached a house on the outskirts of Rukongai's 10th District.

It was barely the first light of dawn when the house's door opened and some people stepped out.

She saw him then and had to fight against the impulse to step up to him and drag him to his rightful place. But she couldn't, the one in front of her wasn't the Hitsugaya Toushirou she had last seen in that awful war. This was the little kid she had met a lifetime ago in a shop, a boy still not in control of his reiatsu.

But it was him.

Hyorinmaru says his memories are locked but not erased, Haineko said in her mind, he will remember, and he will come back when the time is right. It's not now, but soon.

Matsumoto nodded, smiling while she watched him. The scowling white haired boy, his lips moving animatedly in a conversation she was too far to hear but that she could understand anyway. She hadn't forgotten how to read him.

He was still the same, maybe younger in body, but he would be the same one again.

Soon.

She turned around and began the long way back to Seiretei, humming contentedly to herself. It was all right if he couldn't come back yet; she had known all that time he would, eventually, find his way back to them, to her. And she had been right.

She had waited ten years for that.

She could wait a few more to return his haori.

…

OP fic: Once More With Feeling - Day 4

Fri, 27 Mar 2009 15:28:45 GMT

Title: Once more with feeling - Day 4
Author: aviss
Pairing: Zoro/+Sanji
Rating: R
Genre: Drama, Angst, Horror.
Warning: Violence, character deaths (only not)
Disclaimer: So disclaimed.
Summary: Sanji is given a second chance to set things right. And a third. And a fourth…
Word Count: ~2.900 this part

Day 1
Day 2
Day 3

Day 4

"Oi Cook, you fell asleep in the galley again and it's your watch now," Zoro said his voice a gruff whisper. He looked half asleep and Sanji stifled a yawn.

"Go to sleep you dumbass, I'm awake," Sanji replied, closing his eyes tiredly. Not again, he had failed again and the days kept counting. He had been unable, so far, to save even one of them.

He looked up at Zoro, scanning his face to see if there was some sign that he remembered the previous day's events. There was none, Zoro was looking back at him with a quizzical expression at Sanji's stillness, as if he was waiting for Sanji's signal to move.

With a sigh Sanji stood up, "Ok, ok I'm going already," he muttered under his breath, dragging his feet all the way to the Crow's Nest, his reticence to start a new day coming off him in waves.

He ignored Zoro's inquisitive stare until the marimo gave up and looked away from the Crow's Nest with a shrug, going back inside the galley and into the men's cabin. That was good, if there was someone Sanji didn't feel like facing at that particular time it was the marimo.

Not after last night.

Sanji was still feeling guilty not only for failing, again, but also because he had dragged the marimo into his particular version of hell. For people like them, whose most prominent desire was attaining the strength to protect those they held dear, being unable to do so was the worst sort of punishment.

He had been enduring it for some days already and knew perfectly well how awful it felt, he didn't know what had possessed him to believe Zoro would deal with it better. His face. Sanji knew it was a face he was going to see in his nightmares for a long time, if they ever managed to survive the next days.

And he wasn't so sure anymore they would.

He remembered that thing the previous night: standing up with a sword lodged in his chest and removing it, ever so slowly, not a drop of blood staining the steel or dripping from the body. Sanji has only seen that happening with the zombies at Thriller Bark, but these fuckers weren't zombies, that much he knew.

What in the seven hells were they?

Dead things can't die again. That was what the woman said and Sanji believed it. After seeing what he saw there was no way he wouldn't.

There was something else, she had implied that much. Something pulling the strings and enjoying the show. Fuck, his head hurt just thinking about it. He needed to know more about the enemy to defeat it, but the more he knew about them the more he was convinced there was no way to defeat them.

If he kept thinking like that he was as good as dead. And so were his nakama.

Dead things can't die again.

That kept bothering him for some reason. Why? Why couldn't he stop thinking about that? So far all his conversations with the old woman had been cryptic, but she had been trying to help him, feeding him information in that roundabout and slow way. There had to be a clue hidden there, he was convinced.

If only he wasn't so tired and so heartsick he would be able to see it.

What he needed to do was detach himself from the situation, something easier said than done, and really think about it.

You have one chance for each of them. That was the first thing she had said to him. One chance for each of them. He had not managed to save anyone yet but he still had a few more tries.

Why was that still bothering him?

There are eight fragments, seven may stay. You have seven attempts to put things back to rights. Which meant there was someone he wasn't going to be able to save.

Well, he had known since the beginning there was going to be a price, and he was willing to pay it. If someone was going to die in the end Sanji never had a doubt of who was it going to be. But--

You have one chance for each of them.

Luffy.

Zoro.

Nami.

Usopp.

Chopper.

Robin.

Franky.

Brook.

No matter how many times he went over it in his head the numbers didn't add up. She had said seven out of eight, which meant--

Dead things can't die again.

Oh fuck! That was it. He had been so blind and stupid, the answer in front of his eyes clear as day.

He looked up and watched the sky, checking to see if the red moon was still reflected in the waters and how much longer he had to wait for his watch to be over.

He needed to go talk to Brook.

…

He greeted Robin the moment she steeped into the Crow's Nest, and climbed down as if the hounds of hell were at his heels, entering the men's cabin and going straight to Brook's hammock.

It was way too early for anyone except the person on watch to be awake, but he knew Brook was different. Dead things couldn't die again and apparently didn't need to sleep either.

"Brook," he said in a whisper, hoping it wouldn't carry. Brook turned to look at him, his empty sockets focused on Sanji's face. He suppressed a shudder, it was hard to get used to that and in that situation it was way too creepy.

"Sanji? Something wrong?" Brook asked his voice matching Sanji's.

"No, but I need to talk to you. Can you come to the kitchen while I prepare breakfast?"

Brook nodded and got up from his hammock, noiselessly following Sanji out of the cabin. Under normal circumstances he would wait until breakfast was over to speak to anyone. This was the only time of day he really had for himself, before his rowdy nakama were awake and creating the usual mayhem aboard the ship.

But these were not normal circumstances.

Sanji went straight to the counter and started preparing the food the instant they were alone in the kitchen, the movements and routine soothing his nerves and buying him some time to order his thoughts.

Brook waited patiently for him to speak, watching him with a thoughtful expression--or as thoughtful as a skeleton could make.

"I am curious, Brook," Sanji finally began, turning on the stove and putting the rice on the fire. "Your Devil's Fruit power is to resurrect. Does that mean you can't die?"

Brook looked at him for a long instant, the weight of his stare heavy. He might feel the seriousness of the situation because he didn't make any skeleton joke, which Sanji deeply appreciated.

"I am already dead," Brook finally said his voice low and serious.

"And dead things can't die again," Sanji finished for him. He nodded to himself; he had guessed that much though he didn't know which was worse. Brook might survive drowning but he certainly wouldn't enjoy spending the rest of eternity chained to his dead nakama.

"Exactly," Brook said. "Where did you hear that, Sanji?" There was something in Brook's voice that made Sanji turn and look at him. "It's a curious way of saying it. Dead things, not people. Things."

Sanji shrugged. "Nowhere," he lied, "I was just curious. Thinking--"

"About Kuma and what happened with Zoro?" Brook took a guess and Sanji was relieved to notice he was far off the mark. He hadn't thought about the marimo and his death wish since everything started--it felt like ages ago to him.

Sanji shrugged again. "Not really," he said knowing Brook wasn't going to believe him.

He didn't. "But you know there is only one of each fruit," Brook said with a slight smile, "Even if you wanted to have one to protect everyone, you can't."

"I know."

"And trust me on this; you wouldn't like it. No matter what happens to your body you can keep on living, the wounds may or may not heal, it doesn’t matter. As long as you can stand you can carry on. Even if you can't you still live. And seeing everything and everyone you care about turn to dust while you have to keep living. It's painful. "

No shit! Sanji almost blurted, instead he just nodded again hoping Brook wasn't able to see anything in his expression.

"But I'd love to see her one more time," Brook said dreamily and Sanji startled at that.

"Her?"

"Yes, the young girl whom I tricked," Brook winked lecherously, "I never got to see her panties."

"What are you talking about?" Sanji said trying to control his voice not to squeak. Brook had seen her, maybe he still could.

"Death. She's a lovely girl, pretty and young and with a voice like an angel." He sighed. "And she said she wouldn't be taking me anywhere ever again after I tricked her with the Devil's Fruit. Such a pity."

Sanji wanted to say something else when the door opened and a bleary Robin entered the kitchen signalling the end of the conversation.

…

The storm shook the ship with the same violence as the previous times, the Straw Hats rushing to and fro at Nami's shouted orders, the strain in their faces clear for everyone to see.

Sanji just moved on autopilot, his mind going over his conversation with Brook. That wasn't good, it wasn't good at all.

If he was to believe everything Brook had told him, and he had no reason to doubt him, nothing could destroy de physical bodies of their enemies. Nothing short of a chainsaw and a lot of patience.

And the one the woman had hinted about, the one pulling the strings, was a complete mystery to Sanji.

He was beginning to run out of ideas.

The moment the storm was over Sanji rushed to the kitchen, still deep in thought. Kicking those bastards seemed to do close to no damage, the same with punching them and even stabbing. Maybe he was going about it the wrong way, if only he knew how to find out the one behind the attack.

Taking out the leader was usually a good way to stop an attacking crew. Only problem was he had no idea how to recognize the leader or where to find him.

"Something bothering you, Cook?" Zoro's voice snapped him out of his reverie and Sanji almost jumped out of his skin.

He had forgotten about his scheduled conversation with the marimo, but after the previous night Zoro was the last person Sanji wanted to see. He wasn't sure he could face him.

There was no way to avoid that conversation, though. Not if his previous experiences where anything to go by.

"You are bothering me," he replied without turning. Better to get it over with.

"No, you have been staring at me since I woke up two days ago. Is there something you wanna tell me?"

He still didn't turn, his eyes fixed on the empty chopping board on the counter. He had not bothered with dinner, too preoccupied with his own thoughts.

"No," he said after a long silence and waited for the noise which marked the departure of Zoro from his kitchen. It took longer than he thought but in the end he heard the door closing and was alone with his thoughts again.

He still wasn't closer to resolving the riddle.

It felt like an eternity until he heard Usopp's shout, and following a strange impulse Sanji grabbed his sharpest and most wicked looking knives and went outside.

Zoro was standing in front of the door as Sanji had expected, and he turned to look at him the moment he appeared. His eyes moved to Sanji's hands and noticed the knives, eyebrows crawling up his forehead in surprise.

"What the fuck, Cook?"

Sanji ignored him walking up to Nami and Robin and standing with them next to the railing when the Black Ship finally appeared.

"Ew, that has to be the most disgusting Jolly Roger I've seen."

"I know," Sanji muttered under his breath and got ready. If his kicks had no effect he'd try slicing and dicing the fuckers. Maybe with enough time he'd be able to do enough damage for the things to stay, if not dead, at least still.

…

Not seeing them made it hard for Sanji to cut them. He had failed to take that into account and there was no way he could use smoke while he had his hands otherwise occupied.

He bumped into Nami while avoiding a blow, dodging low and almost hitting his head with her clima tact. That was it!

"Nami-san! Use the clima tact to create a fog; we'll see them that way!" He shouted excited and she stared at him, her pretty eyes widening slightly before se nodded her face the picture of determination.

In an instant the Sunny was covered in a thick blanket of fog, the shapes of the attackers finally visible for the tired crew. It was difficult to fight that way when you didn't know if one of your nakama was close, but it was better than nothing.

Sanji could see them almost clearly now: there were ten of them, not eight as he had first thought. All were Zoans of some kind, predators the whole lot of fuckers. Their bodies where only half transformed, taking advantage of most features of both sides.

Sanji had two enemies all for himself, one of them the one he had seen before and a panther-looking woman. For once he had no qualms fighting a girl, not if that girl was trying to kill his friends. And besides, she was already dead, wasn't she?

Sanji fought for what it felt like an eternity, all his senses focused only in what he was doing. Cut, retreat, dodge, kick, cut, slice, repeat, repeat, repeat. He was panting with exertion, his suit jacket ripped in different part and his shirt drenched in sweat. He had no idea how long he had been fighting and he had not heard anything from his nakama, his mind filled with white noise and his own thoughts. He knew he had been hitting his enemies, cutting them though his knives were as clean as if he had not used them. But the things still came after him.

Suddenly the fog lifted; startling Sanji so much he almost missed his step and fell on the deck.

The scene in front of his eyes made him wish he had been killed already.

The only thing standing on the deck were the attackers, the rest of the crew conspicuously missing except for the places where their blood pooled. So much blood.

Sanji thought he was going to be sick.

He let his knives fell from his hands and stood still, closing his eyes to wait for the merciful shot that would restart the day.

It rang loud and true in the silent ship.

…

"They won't die," Sanji said angrily looking at the woman.

He had managed to avoid most of the damage, though his condition was far from good. He was dying, again, but at least this time he had minutes instead of seconds. He intended to make use of them.

No, they won't. They are already dead, I told you.

"How do I defeat them then?" He asked trying to stand from his position leaning against the railing. A fresh wave of pain hit him, blurring his vision for a moment.

You can't, she finally admitted sadly, Not in the way you think about defeat.

Sanji sighed and closed his eyes, exhausted. He had feared that was going to be the answer. "Why? Why are you doing this to me then? To us?" he asked in a chocked whisper. "If we were supposed to die just let us die, but I can't keep seeing them fall before my eyes all the time. I just can't."

She was looking at him with pity and something like disappointment and Sanji felt his blood boiling. I thought you would be stronger than this.

That did it, Sanji struggled to get up, ignoring the pain in his gut and the steady drip of his blood on the deck, and launched himself at the woman. "Are you having fun with this?" he shouted, falling through her image as if through a ghost. Of course she wasn't really there. "Is this how you get your kicks?" he asked from the floor, closing his eyes in despair.

I do not enjoy suffering, I end it, she said, and she sounded offended. Are you giving up now? Is this the extent of your determination to save your friends?

Sanji opened his eyes and glared at her, not answering. He wanted to say that no, he wasn't giving up now or ever but he couldn't.

He was beginning to wonder if it wasn't too much to ask of him.

She seemed to sense his hesitation and pain and relented. They can't die but that doesn’t mean you all have to. There is a way, think about it and find it.

She disappeared and Sanji closed his eyes and waited for the end.

…

Day 5

Weekend Out

Fri, 20 Mar 2009 20:52:24 GMT

Im currently posting from the hotel in Amsterdam, where I'm going to pass her Brithday's Weekend with akasha132.

I'll be back on Sunady evening!

Bleach 350

Thu, 19 Mar 2009 19:45:25 GMT

Woho, early chapter... and woah!

ak_bennington you totally called that one... he sent her flying! It was Ishida who helped her... and OMG, the way he cut's Ulquiorra's arm. Yuck! And Oh, God, it's chaptes like this one the reason I can't give up on Bleach no matter how much it annnoys me sometimes. the mask, and those horns and the feet and claws... and I so loved the way he called the sword to him. Gah, this chapter has me incoherent, which hasn't happened since forever... Now I can't wait for next week to see more!

Be Seeing Up!

Wed, 18 Mar 2009 20:53:37 GMT

1.Pon tu reproductor de música en modo aleatorio (toda la música)
2.Para cada pregunta, aprieta el botón de siguiente para saber la respuesta
3.Responde con el título de esa canción
4.Etiqueta a 10 amigos a los que les podría gustar este juego y también a la persona que te pasó el juego

1.Turn on your MP3 in shuffle mode.
2. For each question, press the next song button to know the answer
3. That song is the answer to the question.
4. Tag 10 friends that could like this game and also the person who tagged you

SI ALGUIEN DICE "ESTO ESTÁ BIEN?" TÚ DICES/IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS ALLRIGHT? YOU SAY:
Just a girl - No doubt (heh, and of course I haave no right to say anything else being just a girl)

QUÉ DESCRIBIRÍA MEJOR TU PERSONALIDAD?/WHAT DESCRIBES YOU BETTER?
Woman - Neneh Cherry (Oddly apppropiate)

QUÉ TE GUSTA EN UN CHICO/A?/WHAT DO YOU LIKE MOST ABOUT A BOY/GIRL?
You can do it - No Doubt (Yup, I like people who know they can do it)

CÓMO TE SIENTES HOY?/HOW ARE YOU FEELING TODAY?
Never Tell - Letters to Cleo (heh)

CUÁL ES EL PROPÓSITO DE TU VIDA?/PURPOSE IN LIFE?
Ya no me acuerdo (I don't remember anymore) - Estopa (Funny, I remember quite well most... everything)

CUÁL ES TU LEMA?/YOUR MOTTO?
Move on - No Doubt (Spot on that one)

QUÉ PIENSAN TUS AMIGOS DE TI?/wHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK ABOUT YOU?
Lose Control - Evanescence (More?)

EN QUÉ PIENSAS MUY A MENUDO?/WHAT DO YOU THINK OFTEN?
Day by Day - Gollbetty (I don't usually think)

CUÁNTO ES 2+2?/2+2 EQUALS....?
Californication - Red Hot Chili Peppers (Everything equals Californication in my book)

QUÉ PIENSAS DE TU MEJOR AMIGO?/WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT YOUR BEST BUDDY?
Crazy - Aerosmith (Yup, all of them)

QUÉ PIENSAS DE LA PERSONA QUE TE GUSTA?/WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THE ONE YOU LIKE?
Woman's Worth - Alicia Keys (heh)

CUÁL ES LA HISTORIA DE TU VIDA?/WHAT'S THE HISTORY OF YOUR LIFE?
Ai ta Kokoro (found heart apparently) - Uverworld (odd this one)

QUÉ QUIERES SER CUANDO SEAS MAYOR?/WHAT DO YOU WANNA BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Che.r.ry - Yui (No, nothing to say about this one)

QUÉ PIENSAS CUANDO VES A LA PERSONA QUE TE GUSTA?/WHAT CROSSES YOUR MIND WHEN YOU SEE THE ONE YOU LIKE?
No more sorrow - Linkin Park (Yes, that might be one of the things I'd think if I liked someone)

QUÉ PIENSAN TUS PADRES DE TI?/WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK ABOUT YOU?
All that I'm living for - Evanescence (Really?)

QUÉ VAS A BAILAR EN TU BODA?/WHAT WILL YOU DANCE AT YOUR WEDDING?
Almost Blue - No Doubt (Wow, that would be one very sad wedding)

QUÉ CANCIÓN VAN A PONER EN TU FUNERAL?/WHAT WILL BE PLAYED IN YOUR FUNERAL?
The Swan Song - Within Temptation (No idea where this one came from)

CUÁL ES TU HOBBY/COSA DE INTERÉS?WHAT'S YOUR HOBBy/INTEREST?
SE - Uverworld (Idem)

CUÁL ES TU MAYOR SECRETO?/YOUR BIGGEST SECRET IS...?
Namidairo (tears colour apparently) - Yui (yeah, whatever...)

QUÉ PIENSAS DE TUS AMIGOS?/WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT YOUR FRIENDS?
Addicted to you - Utada Hikaru (heh, I didn't know that :P )

QUÉ ES LO PEOR QUE PODRÍA PASAR?/WHAT'S THE WORST THING THAT COULD EVER HAPPEN?
World Go Round - No Doubt (No, I like it going round and round)

CÓMO VAS A MORIR?/HOW ARE YOU GOING TO DIE?
Say my Name - Destiny's Child (Really?)

DE QUÉ COSA TE ARREPIENTES?/REGRET SOMETHING?
I Remember you - Yui (like the opposite as the one before about not remembering...)

QUÉ TE HACE REIR?/WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?
Come on Eileen - Save Ferris (the song does, every single time)

QUÉ TE HACE LLORAR?/WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?
Automatic - TLC (No, I don't cry with machines)

TE VAS A CASAR ALGÚN DÍA?/WILL YOU MARRY?
Why? - Yui (LOLOLOLOL)

LE GUSTAS A ALGUIEN?/DOES SOMEONE LIKE YOU?
Y.O.Y.O (You're Only Young Once) - Gollbetty (If you say so)

SI PUDIERAS VOLVER ATRÁS EN EL TIEMPO, QUÉ CAMBIARÍAS?/IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?
Lithium - Evanescence (Ein?)

QUÉ TE DUELE AHORA MISMO?/WHERE DOES IT HURT RIGHT NOW?
Big Hug - Gollbetty (Nothing to say)

QUÉ NOMBRE LE VAS A PONER A ESTA NOTA?/HOW ARE YOU GOING TO ENTITLE THIS?
Be Seeing Up! - Gollbetty

No tagging, do it if you feel like it