A/N: Yay! New chapter's out! Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Three – Shiver

This is okay, I think to myself as everything goes deaf. Shinji's yelling something at me, shaking me by the shoulders. Around us, I see mouths moving, feet shuffling, and Rangiku's manicured fingers beckoning me to come forward. This is okay. I was supposed to do this, anyway.

My feet seem to have gotten a mind of their own; I'm floating towards that stage, and the girls who were lucky not to have been chosen turn away, as if trying to spare me from further embarrassment. But I don't care. I knew I was going to do this.

"Hiyori." My hearing rushes back into my ears. A slender hand grips my arm tightly, and I whip around. It's Lisa. "Why didja keep that goddamned knife?"

It feels more than an accusation that a question. I gape at her. "How did y—"

"It's obvious. Eighty-four plus that additional six. Ninety times. I know where you've been going with all those additional rations. Plus, the blade slightly sticks out in your sock. I'm not stupid."

Rangiku calls my name again. The people milling around us whisper in warning, but I'm planted to my spot. "Why didn't ya stop me?" I reply, my voice wavering. "If ya knew all along, why didn't ya come outta your stupid shell and say it t'my face?"

Before Lisa can answer, a Peacekeeper yanks me out of her grasp, corralling me through the parting crowd. I kick at his shins, spewing out the most venomous words I can think of, but he jabs me with his nightstick, wordlessly instating his authority. He pushes me onto the platform, and I stumble before Matsumoto Rangiku. She gives me a warm smile, welcoming as the female tribute and instructing me to stand beside her, but underneath those layers and layers of foundation and blush, I can tell that she hates me already for publicly embarrassing her. These Seireitei folks have statuses that they need to uphold, and I almost made hers tumble down to its roots.

"And now, for our male tribute!" Rangiku clacks forward to the other bowl, and without bothering to go through her finger dance ritual, she reaches for a slip right on top of the pile.

Trauma grips me like vines, and the only thing I'm focused on his Shinji and Lisa. They stare at me from the crowd, their gazes burning lasers into my skin. Shinji's eyes read, Why, dumbass? Why did ya do that? Lisa only accuses me, casting me a sympathetic but shameful look. I watch her lean over, cupping her hand of Shinji's ear, and in a matter of seconds, her lips write out my secret.

Knife? Shinji mouths. His eyes shoot wide open. His shoulders shake uncontrollably. Knife?

I'm sorry, I mouth back, wincing as he stares back blankly. I didn't mean t—

"Our male tribute is…" Rangiku snaps open the folded slip of paper. My eyes don't leave Shinji's; we're locked onto each other, a million conversations, arguments, and apologies exchanged between us in just a single glance. Rangiku takes a deep breath. "Yasutora Sado!"

Just as Shinji, Lisa, and I heave sighs of relief, cries of outrage ring across the square. The crowd parts nearby the east side, providing a clear path for an enormous boy with a mess of dark wavy hair hanging over his eyes. The people around him—obviously friends—wail, clinging to his nut-brown brawn, begging for him to stay, but this Sado gently pushes them aside, whispering reassuring words, and makes his way up to the stage. When he stands beside me, a chill runs up my spine at the sight of those gigantic, sinewy arms that may possibly twist my head right off, given the right moment.

"Let's have it, citizens of the Tenth District! Our Twenty-Sixth Annual Rukongai Games tributes, Sarugaki Hiyori and Yasutora Sado!" Rangiku applauds into her microphone. "Come on, everyone! Let's give these two our support!"

The audience ogles bleakly at us, no one making a single sound. I suck in a breath. Does this mean our district doesn't want to support us? Was because of what I did? I glance up at Sado, but instinct nearly knocks me over, and I shrivel away, my entire body convulsing in fear. This guy's got a horrible fear complex within him that radiates out like a dark, ominous flame, as if he's composing my death even as we stand. But what about those people who hung onto him? They seemed like close acquaintances of this Sado, perhaps neighbors and co-workers on the ranch, and that makes him look a little less intimidating. But then it hits me. Those aren't friends at all. Sado is a leader of a street gang; those people are his fawning subordinates.

Gangs work a bit differently here in the Tenth District than they do anywhere else. Unlike those mob bosses who rule based on fear and power in other districts, the leaders of gangs here tend to be more affable and form tight comradeships with their underlings. They're the kind of people who'll get to know your family well, ask how your wife is doing, how the kids are growing, and maybe even organize a special event like a potluck supper (that is, if they have the resources and money). That way, their subordinates will feel a better sense of faith within the group and have a less chance of prying away. However, with that only exception, these gangs are no different than the throngs everywhere else.

"They terrorize the lower-class," Shinji groaned one day, walking in a bruised lip and black eye. "They're fuckin' bastards who'll do anythin' fer the money." A small group of ruffians had snatched off his daily pay along with his hat, leaving him coming home empty handed.

I've never really understood how these gang leaders, acting all family man on the outside, have that inner villainous side deep inside their hearts, the rotten core of the otherwise fresh apple.

"It's to look good for the Peacekeepers," Shinji snorted. "Those official hoity-toity bastards don't give a flyin' fuck 'bout what we do, so if those leaders behave, they'll look the other way."

Sado's eyes lock onto mine, and a dreadful feeling rushes through my entire body. I am going to die. My mind is stuck on revolving around that one horrible thought, and I have to give it my all to tear away from his unrelenting gaze.

Fortunately, I hear one pair of hands clapping out there, slowly. Not a happy, encouraging applause, but a steady rhythm of dusky mourning. Lisa joins Shinji's claps, unsmilingly, and soon, the entire square is joining in the depressing clapping, booming like a bass drum heralding inevitable death.

"We have an hour before the train departs to Seireitei!" Rangiku announces, ushering Sado and me into the town hall. "You really need nothing to bring, due to the fact that we're providing you with everything you need: food, clothing, entertainment. You name it, we've got it!"

Sado and I don't answer. We sit facing away from one another in our chairs. I will not look at the monster of a guy, as long as I'm intending on living through this. I've got a feeling that this gangster's planning on scaring the shit out of me way before the games start, so he can gain the upper hand and finish me in the arena in a matter of seconds. Really, it's a classic tactic often used by the Careers, so I'm not surprised that he's using his gargantuan appearance to his advantage. Shinji always says, with these games, you need to take whatever you have at your disposal and turn into something useful. What do I have at my disposal? Nothing?

"Well, you have this hour to say any last words to friends and family, so I'd make the most out of it!" Rangiku chirps, dancing away on her heels. She shoots me an uneasy glance and slips out the door.

Two Peacekeepers lead me into a separate room from Sado. It looks like the mayor's library with shelves stacked with volumes and titles lining the walls and the cherry desk sitting nearby the window. We never really get many luxuries out on the ranch like oak bookshelves and cherry desks being working-class and all, so we've learned to really resent these business-class primps with a real passion. I dig my fingernails into the rug, hoping to rip off some of the soft fabric and let the world know how screwed-up this is.

Why do we have to suffer from these horrible games, year-after-year? Every year, I've watched so many scared kids being marched into that unpredictable arena and killed without a moment's notice. A spear through a throat. An alligator bursting from a swamp. A wildfire ripping across the trees. It's cruel and inhumane—don't those Seireitei bastards get that? It goes against the principles of society, doesn't it? Whatever that means. Seems like society's gone down the drain before I was even born.

The doors open, and Shinji and Lisa burst in, firing off questions one after another.

"Are ya alright?"

"Why the hell did ya do that?"

"The knife!"

"Did everything go OK?"

"What the hell were those extra slips?"

"Are ya hurt?"

"Goddamnit! Stop it!" I shout, covering my ears. "I can't take this shit anymore!"

My friends stop, both in mid-sentence. Shinji sighs. "Sorry, Hiyori. We're just a bit worked up, that's all."

"Yeah," Lisa murmurs, bowing her head.

"No," I choke, rising from my spot on the carpet. "I just wanna say that I'm sorry. Let's just get this damn apology over with, so we can all watch me die."

"You are not gonna die," Shinji asserts, clenching his hand into a fist. "Listen t'me, Hiyori, yer gonna do yer best ta' survive in that hellhole, no matter how shitty the conditions are."

"That's what they all say, dumbass," I mumble, turning away. "I'm up against twenty-three other hooligans who have the same exact idea in their heads."

"Don't say that!" Shinji's voice strikes through me like a sword. "I think you've got a chance, Hiyori! If the arena has a grassland-ish area, ya needa get there lickety-split! That's our home turf! If not, get to a fuckin' forest, for goodness sake, since we're also familiar with those backwoods! Just don't sit on yer ass for the first day—you need to run as fast as you possibly can!"

"Shinji," I sigh, wearily lifting my head. "I'll promise ya this: I'll do all in my power t'get outta there in one piece—"

"One piece doesn't matter! As long as yer livin' an' breathin'—"

"I get it!" I snap. "I get it! Just come out alive! I get it already! But Shinji, don'tcha realize how much shit I put myself in? Swearin' at our escort on TV? Rangiku pretty much hates my guts, and those Careers'll be after me like fuckin' dogs!" Shinji falters, biting down on his lip. "Face it. It's gonna especially suckish fer me out there. Sado, Rangiku, Careers. No one's on my side." My voice cracks on the last word, and tears threaten to squeeze themselves out of the corner of my eyes. No. I can't cry over this. I force myself to steel up, stand tall, but it all comes crashing down. I break into ragged sobs.

In an instant, Lisa wraps her arms around me, shushing me in a low voice. "It's alright. Quiet now, it's gonna be alright."

I shove myself away from her. "No!" I scream. "It's not alright! I put myself into this fuckin' mess, and I have ta' drag myself out now!"

Through my tear-blurred vision, I watch her exchange a glance with Shinji. She takes my hand and pulls me close. "Hiyori. Before ya go, let me hold onto that knife."

"Wh-what?" I sniff, rubbing the moisture from my face.

Lisa fixes me a serious look. "I'm not kiddin', Hiyori. That knife is gonna get ya into a lotta trouble once yer on the train, just as it did t'day. I think it's a good idea if ya let me hold onto this while yer gone." She talks as if I'm actually coming home. I reach down into my sock and touch the wooden handle of my blade. The sleek metal slides against my ankle as I pull the knife out and carefully set it into Lisa's hand.

"Wow," Shinji breathes. "That's one hell of a knife. So that's how ya save yourself from gettin' hurt by those gangs. Damn."

"Ya knew I was gettin'—" I begin, but Shinji cuts me off.

"Hiyori," he says, stepping forward and kneeling down to my height. His brow wrinkles in deep thought. "Knowin' you've had this knife fer a while 'cause Lisa told me all 'bout it, can ya fight wi' this thing?" He picks up the gleaming blade from Lisa's hand, inspecting it through squinted eyes.

"W-well," I stammer, racking my brain for the right words. "I can get away from a group of ruffians without gettin' too hurt, I guess."

"That's great!" Shinji responds instantly.

"Two minutes," the Peacekeepers grunt from behind the door.

"All right," Shinji calls back, gritting his teeth. He redirects his attention on me. "Remember what I said a while back? Take whatever ya got and use it? Turn it into somethin' useful? Even if yer not that sure of it, use whatever skill ya've got wi' the knife, dammit! I bet that much'll save ya from gettin' killed!"

Lisa nods.

"I'll try," I answer, my eyes not wavering from my uncle's knife. Was he actually trying to protect me by giving me this blade? Was he trying to instill some kind of form of defense in me? I never really got why he'd make me do all that extra tesserae just for this stinking blade, but now, I'm kind of glad. A hint of a smile stretches across my mouth.

The door swings open, and the Peacekeepers gesture for my two friends to exit. Shinji grimaces. "Geez, ya don't have ta' be so pushy!" He shoots me a grin. "An' as fer havin' no one yer side, Hiyori? Remember: you've got two people rootin' fer ya back home. Don'tcha forget that!"

The train is the most luxurious place that I've ever set my feet upon. Shining marble tiles map the entire floor of the train, accompanied by sleek, modern Seireitei furniture. They must've put some kind of incense in this car because a sweet, lingering smell constantly pokes at my nose, as if teasing me to sneeze.

"Welcome aboard!" Rangiku twitters, tapping her fingers together. "Feel free to get accustomed to your rooms, and there will be a banquet in the dining car in thirty mintues! Oh!" Her eyes widen. "I almost forgot! We need to introduce you to your mentor!"

"What about a mentor?" a gravelly, jagged voice echoes from the hall. A man taller than Sado with long, stringy black hair hanging down his neck pitches himself around the corner. Instantly, I step back. The hairs on the back of my neck shoot straight up, and I narrow my eyes in concentration.

Everything about this man is ten times scarier than Sado. Scars riddle his long face like railroad tracks, and a prominent scratch runs down the left side of his face, past his eye. Over his other eye, sits a stationary black eyepatch. His mouth is twisted in a wild grin, revealing a snaggy line of gnashing teeth.

Before I can react, the man's wild expression zooms onto my face. "Zaraki Kenpachi," he says, forcing out a deep, throaty chuckle. He extends a sinewy arm outwards. "Nice to meet ya."

A/N: Well, how'd you all like it? It seems like I'm back on track with updating this fic, so there's more to come! Please leave a review and tell me what you think! Words can't describe how much that helps me as writer! See ya at the next chapter!