Gift!fic: Bleach - Gladiator!AU
I have (late) birthday gift!fic to post. First up is simple cracktastic fun, a short (727 words) Bleach Gladiator!AU snippet for the fabulous horusguard76. Kensei & Hisagi-centric, rated PG, and if I'm feeling especially evil I may come up with follow-up snippets *cues evil laughter* eventually, as I haven't even used all the Gladiator quotes I dug up from IMDb yet! *grins*
***
Of the one hundred gladiators that took the field that day, only two remained standing: one a powerful, fierce warrior with a frightening glare and short, silver-white hair; the other barely out of his teens, a lithe, dark-haired fighter using intelligence, dexterity and speed to keep himself alive.
Their exhausted bodies glimmered with sweat and spilt blood as they turned to face one another: Kensei was sure he had not seen this young man before - they must have been kept in a separate cells - but dark, almond-shaped eyes visibly widened with recognition.
Kensei did not want to kill him - hell, he hadn’t wanted to kill the rest, hadn’t wanted to fight since his team, his fellow Vaizard had been slaughtered due to the Emperor’s treachery last year - but he would do so in order to survive.
He would have his vengeance on Aizen.
“You are Muguruma Kensei, aren’t you?” his only living companion on the field asked.
Kensei stiffened, studying the other man closely. No-one he had encountered thus far recognized him: how did this young man know his name?
“You told me once that I had a strong name,” the fighter continued, “but that was over a decade ago, the day you saved my life.” He paused, as if contemplating the memory, before removing the faceplate that had covered the features below his considering, slate-grey eyes.
Kensei couldn’t restrain his expression of shock - the sudden flashback to a night he always tried to forget was too much - as he took in the full face of the gladiator he would have to kill; the man with three thin scars running starting just above the right eye, bisecting the right half of his face; the man with Kensei’s ‘LXIX’ tattoo emblazoned upon his left cheek.
He remembers a boy, brave and foolish, who sought to protect his ragamuffin friends with a sharp stick and uncommon valor. He remembers killing the man turned monster threatening the child just in the nick of time. He remembers a shaking, sniveling brat - who cries after the danger is past? - that he shook some sense into, telling the awestruck boy to smile. He remembers pain and screaming and-
The cascade of catcalls and insults from the restless crowd drew him back from his reverie. The other man held his short sword at the ready, but continued to make no move to attack.
“Hisagi Shuuhei,” Kensei said, testing, tasting the name only heard once before. “That night… I think I was right: it is a strong name, and you‘ve grown up well.” He holstered his dagger in the leather holder strapped one muscled thigh, but kept his broadsword brandished in his right hand. “If I die here, at your hand, it would be a good death.”
The young gladiator glared at him as if Kensei had offered an insult instead of praise. “I will tell you this, Muguruma: if you want this farce to continue, I will fight you, and win -but I will not take your life.”
“What are you, some sort of idiot?” Kensei’s roar could be heard as high up as the middle rows of the Colosseum and the crowd settled, sensing more violence at hand.
Those dark, intense eyes stared into his own, and Kensei could clearly read the indissoluble integrity and stubborn determination of his opponent, and recognized his own defeat. He had sworn a harsh vengeance on the cruel, capricious Emperor that was probably watching these games with a lazy, indifferent gaze: but what was that vengeance compared to the honor and faith bravely offered when least expected, and probably when Kensei needed it most?
The jeers from the onlookers resumed, redoubled, when Kensei sheathed his sword and nodded his respect to Hisagi. The younger man gaped at him for a moment before returning the gesture in a similar, though more graceful manner. Neither man paid any attention to the bloodthirsty crowd or the indolent nobles expecting further entertainment.
Kensei surveyed the entire field, expecting the Emperor’s guards at any moment, certain that Aizen would order their immediate deaths for their disobedience. Instead, a single gate was opened, revealing an immense, predatory lion - one that viciously roared well above the crowd’s renewed cheers its anger and hunger as it stalked the two men that would be its long-awaited meal.
***
Of the one hundred gladiators that took the field that day, only two remained standing: one a powerful, fierce warrior with a frightening glare and short, silver-white hair; the other barely out of his teens, a lithe, dark-haired fighter using intelligence, dexterity and speed to keep himself alive.
Their exhausted bodies glimmered with sweat and spilt blood as they turned to face one another: Kensei was sure he had not seen this young man before - they must have been kept in a separate cells - but dark, almond-shaped eyes visibly widened with recognition.
Kensei did not want to kill him - hell, he hadn’t wanted to kill the rest, hadn’t wanted to fight since his team, his fellow Vaizard had been slaughtered due to the Emperor’s treachery last year - but he would do so in order to survive.
He would have his vengeance on Aizen.
“You are Muguruma Kensei, aren’t you?” his only living companion on the field asked.
Kensei stiffened, studying the other man closely. No-one he had encountered thus far recognized him: how did this young man know his name?
“You told me once that I had a strong name,” the fighter continued, “but that was over a decade ago, the day you saved my life.” He paused, as if contemplating the memory, before removing the faceplate that had covered the features below his considering, slate-grey eyes.
Kensei couldn’t restrain his expression of shock - the sudden flashback to a night he always tried to forget was too much - as he took in the full face of the gladiator he would have to kill; the man with three thin scars running starting just above the right eye, bisecting the right half of his face; the man with Kensei’s ‘LXIX’ tattoo emblazoned upon his left cheek.
He remembers a boy, brave and foolish, who sought to protect his ragamuffin friends with a sharp stick and uncommon valor. He remembers killing the man turned monster threatening the child just in the nick of time. He remembers a shaking, sniveling brat - who cries after the danger is past? - that he shook some sense into, telling the awestruck boy to smile. He remembers pain and screaming and-
The cascade of catcalls and insults from the restless crowd drew him back from his reverie. The other man held his short sword at the ready, but continued to make no move to attack.
“Hisagi Shuuhei,” Kensei said, testing, tasting the name only heard once before. “That night… I think I was right: it is a strong name, and you‘ve grown up well.” He holstered his dagger in the leather holder strapped one muscled thigh, but kept his broadsword brandished in his right hand. “If I die here, at your hand, it would be a good death.”
The young gladiator glared at him as if Kensei had offered an insult instead of praise. “I will tell you this, Muguruma: if you want this farce to continue, I will fight you, and win -but I will not take your life.”
“What are you, some sort of idiot?” Kensei’s roar could be heard as high up as the middle rows of the Colosseum and the crowd settled, sensing more violence at hand.
Those dark, intense eyes stared into his own, and Kensei could clearly read the indissoluble integrity and stubborn determination of his opponent, and recognized his own defeat. He had sworn a harsh vengeance on the cruel, capricious Emperor that was probably watching these games with a lazy, indifferent gaze: but what was that vengeance compared to the honor and faith bravely offered when least expected, and probably when Kensei needed it most?
The jeers from the onlookers resumed, redoubled, when Kensei sheathed his sword and nodded his respect to Hisagi. The younger man gaped at him for a moment before returning the gesture in a similar, though more graceful manner. Neither man paid any attention to the bloodthirsty crowd or the indolent nobles expecting further entertainment.
Kensei surveyed the entire field, expecting the Emperor’s guards at any moment, certain that Aizen would order their immediate deaths for their disobedience. Instead, a single gate was opened, revealing an immense, predatory lion - one that viciously roared well above the crowd’s renewed cheers its anger and hunger as it stalked the two men that would be its long-awaited meal.