Chapter 2 - The Promise

Kiptcha stood over Grimmjow, already dressed in the school uniform. It consisted of a knee length skirt and a white blouse that she had fussed over earlier. She hadn’t put on her shoes yet, instead standing around in her socks. She was upset about actually showing that much skin, usually not having to show her mouth, neck, no cleavage, her arms, and her legs.

“Hey! We’re going to be late if you don’t get your @$$ moving!”

Grimmjow rolled over on the floor, regarding Kiptcha with cold eyes. She had forbidden him to sleep with her on the bed, since she still didn’t appreciate the gaping hole in her stomach. She remained steadfast in her opinion that she might forgive him someday, but it wasn’t today and it probably wouldn’t be tomorrow. He had helped her put the bandage on, but that hadn’t helped her mood, since he had tried to clean it out with antiseptic.

“Your vision of late is messed up,” Grimmjow snapped.

Kiptcha raised an eyebrow and smirked. Her nerves were frayed from yesterday, and the snippiness of Grimmjow’s mood enlightened Kiptcha enough to provoke her to laugh. She sat down on the bed and sighed. “It’s been a day since your encounter with the target, and he might forgive you, considering he mightn’t still want to kill you.” She leaned down and supported her head with her hands. She certainly seemed better natured, as if she had decided she was going to be nice just this once so as to put Grimmjow at ease.

He looked at her. It wasn’t natural for her to smile like that. It just wasn’t right at all. The fastest way to figure out something was wrong was if the subject in question didn’t act themselves. Without making a reply, he grabbed his school uniform off the only chair that the apartment had and stalked over to the bathroom, for he did need to change out of the jeans and punk T-shirt that he had picked up. He paused beside her, and she sat up straight, aware he wasn’t joking.

“What did you tell Ulquiorra?”

Kiptcha looked a bit concerned, and she looked away. She didn’t speak for a while, but finally she did, “I requested him let you stay here.”



Lunch break at school seemed to be the only bearable part of the day, since the boring classes in the morning had put her back into her sullen, untalkative mood again. Grimmjow stood above her, as she was slumped down, sitting against a wall. They were both on the roof of the school, and it was deserted, except for those two.

“We should get some lunch, ya know,” Kiptcha commented dryly.

Grimmjow didn’t look at her; he didn’t even flinch. Kiptcha hadn’t been expecting him to reply, but she was shocked when he did.

“Why did you say this was your last mission? Was it some kind of crude joke?”

It was Kiptcha’s turn to not respond. She didn’t make any try at responding. Instead, she got up and walked to the stairwell, the one that led back to the classroom. She paused, just long enough for Grimmjow to catch up and grab her.

He slammed her against the brick wall and lifted her off the ground. She tried not to show any fear, but somehow her body betrayed her and she shivered.

“I asked you question,” he hissed.

“I gathered that, Grimmjow. I am disinclined to answer it. So get with the bigger picture: I won’t.”

He brought his fist in fast and hard, connecting with the wound that he had inflicted with his zampaku-to. Blood seeped to the surface of the wrap, clearly visible because she had tied her shirt up to expose her midriff. Her eyes went wide with pain and she went limp in his grasp. “Just think, Kipt. I’ll take your place in the Espada. If I can kill you —”

“No. Not like this. Grimmjow, stop,” Kiptcha gasped out. She raised a hand a placed it on the hand that was holding her to the wall, his hand gripping the cloth that made up her shirt collar.

He chuckled and pulled his hand back for another punch. Kiptcha hung limply, blood spreading again she closed her eyes, tensing for the pain.

“Aizen-sama made a promise to me that when I captured a shinigami that let the arrancar, led by the Espada, into the soul society, he would allow me to commit and honorable seppku*.”
[*seppku: honorable suicide involving cutting open your stomach and bleeding to death. Really painful. Don’t ever do it. >: ]
Grimmjow’s eyes widened and he let her drop, her shirt settling around her figure. Her job of tying it up had come undone.

“You’re kidding. 4th in the Espada, and you can think to do is commit suicide?!”

Kiptcha was limp and the blood from her reopened injury had been obscured. She couldn’t reply. Words wouldn’t form in her mind, slipping out of her reach as she blacked out.

Grimmjow leaned down and he picked up her limp body, taking it back down to the teacher. Halfway down the steps he saw Isredel, and he tensed. A glare formed and he thought about what had last happened between them.

“What happened?” Isredel asked flatly.

“Nothing,” Grimmjow answered, and he tried to push past Isredel.

“You’re pretty bad at lying,” Isredel commented, and he touched Kiptcha’s stomach, drawing up the hem of the blouse until the blood soaked bandages were visible. “She’ll die if you don’t do something about that.”



There was an uncomfortable silence that had descended on the small apartment. Isredel had just finished re-wrapping the katana wound, and Grimmjow was sitting haughtily in the one chair the decorated the bare room.

“What kind of person is Kiptcha?” Isredel asked stonily, concealing his anger.

“How would I know?” Grimmjow spat. “She’s never been all that close to me.”

“Because she let you stay with her here,” Isredel answered. “She trusts enough that way.”

“She has no real friends, and she seldom speaks. Nobody really speaks to her either because she’s not friendly and she’s — a bit different. I doubt she trusts me as much as you think. She was awake all last night, watching me for any false move. She even kicked me off the bed to the floor. You call that trusting?!” Grimmjow snarled, standing and leaving the apartment.

Kiptcha woke a few minutes after he left and the first thing that she jumped at was the feel of hand on the side of her face. He vision was blurry and she nearly panicked at the thought of Grimmjow doing that. She held back until her vision became clearer. Instead it was the target. Isredel! She froze, wondering what she could do in this situation.

“Hey. Comin’ around much?” a kind voice said. It drifted through her consciousness lazily and she instantly reacted.

“What the hell do you think you’re d — ?” Kiptcha nearly yelled at the top of her voice. She was cut off by the return of the pain and her senses sharpened.

“ It’s just me. Who were you expecting?”

“I kind of expected Grimmjow, actually,” Kiptcha said, taking hold of his hand. She pulled it away from her face slightly. She looked up at his fine features, realizing that he had lighter hair than she did. Her’s was a blonde, after all. His eyes were a blue-green, with a kind look to them. She hadn’t imagined her target like this at all. Not kind — rough and evil.

“You should be careful with somebody like that, because they are more than they seem. He’s not exactly — alive and human.”

“Neither are you,” Kiptcha countered. “You’re a shinigami. So he’s an arrancar, right? And you two are the enemies that can kill each other, if given the chance.”

“How do you know that?” Isredel asked contemptuously. He looked down at the thin frame of the supposed human, feeling like there was something a bit wrong with her. He couldn’t place it, but he decided that he was going to watch her every move. Maybe Grimmjow’s reiatsu had bled over into her — it was too hard to tell. But, it felt like the same type of reiatsu, which worried him.



Kiptcha had fallen asleep again, and Isredel was watching over her, waiting for Grimmjow to come back. He got up, checking on Kiptcha again, for the last time. He was hungry, and Isredel had planned to go and get dinner now. He sat down on the edge of the bed and he looked down at her.

A frown crossed her face and she opened her eyes again, to find Isredel looking at her again. She blinked, confusion taking over. She opened her mouth to ask, but she was silenced with a look.

Isredel leaned over Kiptcha, lacing the fingers of his right hand into her left. Carefully he lowered himself down, aware of her injury. And he kissed her.

Kiptcha’s eyes went wide, but she didn’t turn away. She felt a hand on the side of her face, keeping her there. Her body had naturally tensed, but she relaxed intentionally, letting reality slip away. She had never experienced a kiss as an arrancar, and she was determined to enjoy the only one she ever got.

Isredel pulled away slowly, and Kiptcha panted for breath a bit. He looked at her and smiled. With that, he got up and left, closing the door to the apartment behind him.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” Grimmjow asked icily, stepping out from the door that enclosed the bathroom. He had on a sober expression, but it was laced with anger. He walked closer to the bed, and he stopped at the side that Isredel had just left.

Kiptcha sat up and looked up at Grimmjow. Her face flushed and she turned away, climbing out of the bed in the other direction. She stood unsteadily, but she decided that she seemed to be stable and started towards the door.

“Wait a second, there,” Grimmjow breathed in her ear. He had an arm across her front, but not choking her. He held her back, even as she struggled to leave. “When did you say you would be returning with the target?”

“Two more days. I can always return early though,” Kiptcha said, turning away from his direction. She didn’t know what to do, since facing him would only remind her of her mission. She wanted to run away from it all, just forget Aizen and everything she was with that one kiss. She didn’t want to lock him up in a cell. She didn’t want to have to watch his execution —

“And what happens then?” Grimmjow prompted.

“He opens the portal to Seiretei. After that he will be of no further use, and he will be killed.”

“Quite unlike that Orihime girl, huh? She’s being kept by Aizen-sama.”

Kiptcha frowned. Isredel would be witness to the downfall of Seiretei, and then she would be ordered to kill him . . . “We’ll be returning tomorrow.”



After their conversation, Kiptcha had excused herself and she had gone out to ‘think’. She taken her gigai with her, but quickly discarded it when she had reached the roof of the building. Grimmjow now watced her as she went through her fourth sword form. It involved twisting and other fancy moves that were completely useless on the battlefield. But she didn’t use these on the battlefield at all. These were the forms from her zampaku-to, the forms that improved her skills. There were four forms so far, but there wouldn’t be for long.

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