Ok, this one has played on my mind for a while. Don't know how long it'll be but I thought I'd give it a go. Massively long first chapter, hope it goes ok.

Let me know what you think please.

Chapter One

Iron, dust and blood.

Eventually the three smells congealed in nostrils till they were indistinguishable from each other. Only the tang of blood on the tongue stood out to those unfortunate enough to draw attention to themselves in the pit.

One such unfortunate huddled in his cage, left arm clutched to his chest as his chest heaved. Just dragged back to the pit and thrown into the barred room, the man had not even caught his breath from his latest bout let alone deal with any of his wounds. At least he was still alive to feel the pain. It seemed the only way to escape the pain was death, and yet every time he fought for his life, he won.

He leaned his head back against the grimy wall he closed his eyes, flooding his senses with the reek of the pit. Cerulean eyes, slightly bloodshot from the choke hold he'd had to break, took in his present home, from the twenty-four other cages lining the pathway to the closed doors to the left and the right at either end. One led to the arena, near certain death, the other to the main household. The man knew the household fairly well, having lived as a house slave for a month or so until his master had thrown him here, to fight for the entertainment of the master's friends.

He had just dropped a decanter, something they should have never assigned him to, shattering the precious crystal and ruining the expensive brandy as well as the rug under him. Having a powerfully build man with large clumsy hands do butler's work was idiocy, but the master had taken a fancy to him, and had insisted on being waited on while the man was half-dressed. The fact that the master had been attempting to grope the slave at the time had no impact on the severity of the punishment – imprisonment in the arena fighting for his life.

This bout of contests was to run for three days, one left and the slave knew he had to fix his shoulder as soon as possible to allow the swelling to go down. He couldn't fight properly with a dislocation and he would be fighting the next day, this time possibly for the last time. This time he was going to accept his fate, end these two years of torture and pain. Tomorrow was the day he was going to die.

iiiiiiiii

Ichigo hated these events. He just wanted to leave but it was expected for him to attend. And Ichigo was every bit the lord his title insisted he be, even if he hated every moment of it. Lord Kurosaki, Master of North Ridge and nephew to the current liege Master of the Lands was a long list of hefty titles for any shoulders to bear let alone the narrow, slim one's of the young man. Running his hand through his bright hair Ichigo mentally prepared himself as the carriage passed the entrance gate. Baron Tousen, a lesser noble, but one to which invitations cannot be ignored – had many friends and probably not a few enemies but all stood shoulder to shoulder when the man threw his Blood parties. Red wine flowed as fast as the blood in the sands of the man's own personal arena as the nobility drank both in equal measures, one with eyes the other with laughing mouths as men died for their amusements.

Lord Kurosaki abhorred the way his peers treated human beings deemed lesser because of some twist of birth. Ichigo knew many noble hearted men he was forced to call slaves because of his station, and he did his best to distance himself from the ignorant gentry by adopting a distant personality, and ensuring his reputation was known.

Feeling a hand on his arm he turned to the head of his household, Coyote Starrk who ran his hand down the master's arm and laced his fingers through the younger man's long digits. "We're here for you." Looking across from him he made eye contact with Nnoitra Jiruga, the tall gangly male grinning widely as usual, his violet eye gleaming in the low light. Tia Halibel, his house maid and nanny nudged at Ichigo's leg with her own, the leather boots she was wearing making a slight squeak against his own. The blond smiled kindly, knowing how much her master hated witnessing the cruelty of his supposed friends, running her hand through the pale green strands of the master's young niece, the child currently sleeping, resting her head on Tia's knee.

The car came to a stop, the driver Zommari Rureaux opening the door silently and standing in wait. Nniotra left the car first, scanning to the sides to secure the area for his master, even though they were on the grounds of a fellow noble. Nniotra held a hand out for Tia, helping the woman out of the car with the child in her arms. Only then did Ichigo stand, face instantly falling into its characteristic scowl. Zommari gripped the master's elbow, squeezing to convey comfort as the young lord passed him. Starrk left the car last, lifting the leather folder he maintained his master's business with as he exited. Nodding at the tall black driver as he passed, the other knowing to drive the car to the garage before joining the other visiting slaves in the lower arena. Because of their master's position, they were all guaranteed seating at such events, but only Zommari would be using them, Tia needed for the child, Nnoitra being Ichigo's security and Starrk was ever present at Ichigo's elbow, should he be needed.

Ichigo mounted the stairs to the vast house, the main building branching out to two wings, left and right both surrounding the circular arena that the host had built five years ago. He had insisted it was too much hassle to travel to the city with all of his fighters. And it meant his fights could bend the strict rules usually imposed. Ichigo refused to own a fighter, knowing he'd be expected to enter the man in the bouts, possibly ending the man's life for sport and he couldn't. No one outside of his house hold knew of his close relationship with what should be his understaff and the household all cared too much for their master to risk their livelihoods and his.

Starrk was, as always two steps behind and to his left, and just the slight turn of his head brought the man to his master's shoulder.

"Make sure my niece isn't distraught by any of the proceedings. I want to know if she is upset in any way." Ichigo didn't speak above a whisper, and didn't look at the man but Starrk got the message loud and clear, this week's excuse for an early escape finally clearing up the reason for the young girl's presence. The girl would most likely sleep through the entire event.

"Ichigo!"

The Lord stopped and turned, his entourage stopping in turn, all maintaining their positions and distances. The façade of impeccably trained slaves had to be maintained at all times in public, the reputation their master cultivated had other slaves afraid of them, and their master, rumours of public beatings and abhorrent living conditions had many scared to end up with him. Ichigo had personally rescued all of his slaves and gained their trust enough to have the group he needed, one shy at that moment due to one of his previous aides leaving with his blessing to escape the country with his partner. Ichigo had helped the young slave get his girl and got them both out with the help of his adopted father.

Red hair, not as bright as his own but much longer filled his vision as his arms were filled by a slim young girl. Orihime Inoue was the daughter of a Countess, currently untitled but given all the privileges of her mother's title until she secured a marriage of equal or greater rank. She was a sweet girl, and Ichigo had known her for years but the girl did look at him like they were engaged at times and it made him uneasy.

"Inoue, you are looking beautiful, as always." He stepped back, holding just her hand and bowed over it, just slightly, as due her lower rank. The girl held her deep blue gown to the side slightly, dipping into a low, graceful curtsy, head nearly at the level of their hands. Ichigo supported her hand, allowing her to use him to rise to her feet again to ensure she maintained her dignity; many of his peers enjoyed seeing the nobles' daughters wobble as they rose. She smiled gratefully; blush spreading across her cheeks as their eyes met. Ichigo's face didn't change; he just nodded his acknowledgement before letting go of her hand, clasping his together behind his back.

"Thank you My Lord, you are looking magnificent also."

Again Ichigo nodded before continuing his passage into the main room, joining the large group of slightly inebriated young nobles, loud voices greeting him as he entered. Ichigo unconsciously squared his shoulders, the charcoal suit jacket hugging his lithe figure perfectly, with the black on black fitted shirt and tie underneath concealing his body but not his figure. His slaves were similarly dressed, all in dark grey or black, Ichigo refusing to pander to trends and peacocking himself in bright colours. From his luminous hair to his fierce scowl, he was a sight in the monochrome group, his young niece being the only other splash of colour with her long green hair. Other's called to him as he entered, Renji Abari, a childhood rival turned some time friend was standing with his intended, Rukia Kuchiki, both dressed in the latest fashions, Renji's bright scarlet hair clashing ever so slightly with his fiancée's burgundy dress. Ichigo acknowledged the greetings silently, continuing on his target to greet his host, knowing the sooner that was over the sooner he could move on with the evening.

Kaname Tousen stood near the centre of the room, accompanied by his friends, Gin Ichimaru and Sousuke Aizen. Ichigo couldn't stand any of the three, for different reasons each but together made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Especially the way Aizen travelled his eyes over his body. He had been caught in an uncomfortable position once with Aizen, and Ichigo was adamant it would never occur again. Gin was the only one what Ichigo felt comfortable in carrying on a conversation, even if the snake tongued man tended to mock him for the duration. At least he was up front about it, not carrying much of an agenda beyond the pleasure of watching another flush.

The three men turned as he approached, Gin and Aizen taller than him by a few inches while he had a couple on his host. Gin's trademark grin split his face as he mockingly bowed to the Lord, Aizen inclining his head and Tousen bowing also, each acting according to their ranks towards the other. Ichigo dropped to a slight bow, his response to the more senior member of the group only, as was expected. Ichigo could play the court rules, having been brought up in them his whole life. His formative years hadn't been spent with his birth parents and most of his current views of the gentry could be blamed on the pair that had raised him from then.

"Good of you to join us Lord Kurosaki, it has been too long since we spend any time together." Tousen looked towards him, opaque glasses hiding the man's eyes. Rumour had it that Tousen had been born blind, others claim he'd been blinded by a slave when he was young, giving him a less favourable than average disregard to their wellbeing. Either way it didn't put the man at any disadvantage to anyone with their full five senses, he knew who he was speaking to and exactly where they were at all times. It was one of the reasons Ichigo felt uncomfortable in his presence, the other being the man's clinical cruelty to his slaves.

"Good of you to invite me. I don't get out as much as I wish. I have brought my niece after the kind invitation to her also." Ichigo stepped slightly to the side, gesturing to his little niece still asleep in her nanny's arms. The four year old was still small enough to be held when sleeping, but not for much longer.

"Will you be entering a slave into the competition? It is nearly over, you joining us on the last day after all but we could put your competitor against one of the defeated, or he could take on the winner?"

"I'm afraid I have no fighters at the moment. I will enjoy the performance regardless." Ichigo inclined his head and made to leave.

"Don't run away Ichigo," The ease of the man using his given name made the young Kurosaki bristle. "How about you sponsor one of my fighters, I have three still in the competition. It would bring you into the game some."

"And if my man wins?" Ichigo had no intention of putting any money into these fights, especially since Tousen could easily rig it between two of his own.

"If the one you pick wins, you can take him for a fighter of your own."

"And if he loses?"

"Then you'll owe me a slave, to replace the dead one."

Ichigo glared in response, knowing that he was in trouble. If he agreed to this and lost, Tousen might insist on choosing from his current household, rather than the recompense of the slave. Not that Ichigo had to back down to what the man demanded, he did out rank him but Tousen had powerful friends, and no one got on the bad side of Aizen by choice.

"I will only agree to this with conditions. I get free choice, the three you are offering must be clearly shown and I must get time to choose. Second, I refuse to part with any of my current household, it takes too long to train them as it is, I will not start again with any of them. Third, the match is over when a man is unable to get up, not dead. I will not be part of a death match with my niece in sight."

Tousen seemed to consider his demands, Aizen speaking into his ear for a second as Gin smirked at him. "I can't see any problem with your demands, I will have one of my slaves ready the three and have them meet you in one of the prep rooms below. Is that satisfactory?"

Ichigo barely looked at him as he nodded, his mind whirling with how this situation could end, none of the scenarios were favourable.

Ichigo locked eyes with Tia as he turned, Starrk as always at his side. Nnoitra was visibly tense but the three followed him.

They followed an unnamed slave down the back stairs and out to the arena. Turning to the left after entering, they were shown into a small room, three seats present, one bed/table like the kind you would see in a doctor's surgery and a few cupboards on the walls. Ichigo sat in one of the seats, Tia taking the one furthest away, keeping the girl asleep.

After a few minutes, a bear of a man was dragged into the room, his arms nearly reached the floor as he walked and his hands were thick and meaty. Ichigo knew instantly that this man was not for him and after a seconds attentions, he dismissed him. The man was basically dragged out by two burly slaves. The second was shown in, a smaller fighter, wiry and clever looking. Ichigo was intrigued and gave the man a look over, standing to walk a step closer. The slave was suddenly nervous and backed away, not knowing what was going on. Ichigo signalled to the keepers that he would see the last, still not convinced.

He was still standing when the next slave walked in. Even in his fighters garb, a rough shirt of an indescribable beige and tighter shorts of a slightly darker shade, the man had a presence. He was tall, taller than Ichigo with bright blue cerulean hair. It was the matching eyes that captured the young master's attention however. They burned with cold fire, even after being a fighter for some time. Taking a closer look at him, Ichigo started to spot the scars and bruises on the fighter, the way he was favouring his left arm told him he'd been injured the day previous and was at a disadvantage.

Ichigo walked closer, keeping his face its scowling blank mask as he read the slave the best way he could. The man was scared, and tired. He was on the verge of giving up. The fire in his eyes was hope that he wasn't quite there yet, and Ichigo knew he had found his fighter, and hopefully his new member of the family.

"This one is now mine. You will release him to my slaves who will ready him for his bout." Ichigo spoke with the certainty of one that knew his commands would be followed the second they were uttered.

A set of keys were handed to Starrk along with a set of papers before the two men left them.

Ichigo glanced at the corners, knowing Starrk was watching his every move. His number one would know the signal for them being watched and not make a move out of turn. Starrk approached the new slave, his master still standing in front of him. The two men were locked at the eyes for a second, the slave trying to figure out what was going on while the master judged his latest acquisition.

"Slave," the tall blue haired man turned to him, obedient, but not happy about it. "You now belong to the Lord Kurosaki, you will fight for him, win for him and you will be part of his household, is that clear?"

The slave looked uncertain, glancing back at the young lord before looking at the head slave. He knew if he spoke out of turn it would come back on him.

Ichigo knew what the problem was, but let the slave sweat for a moment. "Speak slave."

"I understand." He winced as he spoke, his throat unused to speech.

"You master's reputation is riding on your performance. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Ichigo turned his back, on the slave but in reality turning from the cameras. "Will you win this for me slave?"

iiiiiiii

The slave glanced back and forth between the two standing men in the room. He'd been dragged from his cage and taken through the household door, a move that shocked him to the core. Now shoved in the room, one that Deroy had just come from and faced with some teenaged lord with an attitude problem he was feeling his old self come back a bit.

When the young noble had faced off with him he'd been surprised to see an edge of compassion shining in the warm brown eyes. The boy was shorter than him by a few inches, skinny frame covered by a ridiculously expensive suit but his gaze was fierce and his house slaves certainly made up for his lack of physical presence. Leaning against a wall was one of the tallest men he'd ever seen, lean but dangerous looking. Just behind the noble was a brunette with an attitude, eyes on level with his own, when he spoke, he sounded bored.

He'd either been sold or traded to this kid, and now he expected him to win a fight for him? If he hadn't already been planning to throw the fight, this would have made his mind up.

Then the little stuck up brat turned his back on him, not even looking his way. A part of him missed the warmth in the other's eyes for a second, the first time someone had really looked at him in two years but then the deep voice asking him to win it for him?

A small voice spoke up from his side, drawing his attention to the previously ignored member in the room. Sitting on the lap of a gorgeous blond slave was a tiny person with long green hair. She rubbed sleepily at her eyes, blinking the big brown eyes widely as she looked at the stranger in the room.

"Uncle, who is this?"

The lord snapped his gaze to the little girl, looking vaguely horrified at her. "Tia, take her outside. I will meet you back in the main house."

Tia nodded quickly, wrapping her arms around the girl. The little one didn't like that, and squirmed free, stumbling to her feet, sleep still working its way out of her system. She leaned a hand out, as a child would to support herself, the closest solid thing being a bare knee to which she clung for a second.

Neliel was small for her age, and looking up to the man she leaned on required her to crane her head all the way back, landing her on her bottom at his feet. She didn't see the way her uncle's eyes widened at seeing her so close to a killing machine but she was distracted by the man's bright blue hair, a colour she hadn't seen on a person before.

"Is that your real hair colour?"

The man knelt down, offering her a hand to help her to her feet, which she took gladly, keeping hold of his hand afterwards. "Yes, my father had the same hair."

"It's really pretty."

The slave stared at the young girl; never having had contact with a child before, at least not since he was one himself. The slave looked up at his new master, suddenly afraid he'd be punished for is actions towards the man's child.

The young man was just looking puzzled, staring between the two. He held his hand out and the young girl ran to him, clutching his hand before he swept her up in his arms. He handed her to the blond nanny without a word and the two left the room with the tall man opening the door for them.

"You are very forward for a slave, is that why you ended up being a fighter?"

"I am what my master wishes me to be." The slave dropped his gaze to the floor, the flat response lacking all emotion.

"I wish you to win, does that mean you will?"

The slave looked uncertain, not sure how to respond.

"It is your choice. You win you become my slave. You lose you remain."

"If I lose, it will be because I have died."

"Again, that is a choice, do not think otherwise. Take off your shirt."

The slave's eyes widened and he backed away from the master, stopping only when he nearly fell onto the taller slave behind him.

The master's eyes rolled and he turned to his number one, gesturing towards his latest acquisition before stepping to the sink at the wall. He stripped off his jacket and rolled his black sleeves up before quickly washing his hands.

The slave watched the master's actions, still scared at the situation before the brunette approached him. He was drawn forward, both heading to the couch/bed thing. The man spoke very quietly to him, like he was trying to hide it from the others in the room.

"Master is a doctor; he wants to check your shoulder and other injuries before sending you to fight for him. Just know not everything is as it seems."

The blue haired slave looked around the room, seeing the grinning face of the taller slave eyeing him with his one visible eye, the other behind a patch. He winked the violet eye at him, gesturing for him to do as he was told. With some difficulty, his shoulder still stiff and sore, he struggled out of the rough shirt, perching on the bed. The master approached him from behind and grasped his injured shoulder, firmly, but not harshly. He ran his fingers along the joint, before pressing on his tricep to lift the limb straight to the front. Rotating it gently, he pulled it to the side, slowing at the quiet hiss from the injured man.

"I can't help you if I don't know what is wrong. Can you hold it there without help?" At the answering nod, Ichigo released his pressure, letting the man hold his limb. It stayed straight for a few seconds but started to droop. Ichigo resumed his grip, returning the limb to the front of the chest. This meant Ichigo had his arm wrapped round the man in front of him for a split second.

The slave was doing his best to control his breathing. The only time someone had touched him in years was to hurt him and the delicate touches and grips of the young man behind him were raising the skin into goose bumps. He wanted to lean back into the touch, just for a moment but he knew masters were cruel and he just wanted to ensure the slave was fit to fight for him.

"I am going to release some of the tension in the muscles ok? It is going to hurt at first, but it will give you greater movement. Lie on your front."

The slave did as he was told, still confused at the situation. Masters did not care for slaves. Just as he settled onto his front, before the young man touched him again, he lifted his head to look at him. The man knew he wanted to ask something and gestured for him to continue.

"Master, why are you caring for me? My Lord Tousen would have medics for this."

The man smirked at him, the first expression to cross the orange haired man's face in a while, it snapped back to its blank scowl quickly. "I'm sure Baron Tousen would have medics, but as you will be fighting his man, I didn't want to put him in a position of favouritism." Ichigo worded his statement carefully, not out rightly saying he didn't trust the man's medic. "And since I have no fighter, I have no medical staff with me besides myself. If you have a problem with it I will leave."

The slave widened his eyes, shaking his head empathically before lying flat. Warm, slightly damp hands grasped his shoulder, gently manipulating the muscles to release the tension. He avoided the bruised area, and the slave relaxed as the pain lessened in his body. The young lord had long fingers that could sense when to push and when to stroke and it made a maelstrom of emotions fly through the slave's body. It went against everything he had been programmed to believe about masters and slaves and he didn't trust it. When the hands left him, a different, larger set pulled him upright. The brunette looked at him, seeing the anguish in the man's face. He looked at his master who walked round, drying his newly washed hands and then rolling his sleeves down. After fixing one silver cufflink he met the cerulean eyes of the slave before him. The eyes were filled with emotion and one over spilled, letting a bead of salted water trail down his face, ghosting over the sharp cheekbones.

A crack sounded out in the room, shattering the moment as the master resumed fixing his clothing. The slap he had dealt to the slave had shocked all in the room to the core. "You are a fighter. You will fight."

The man snapped his now furious gaze onto his abuser, the warm brown eyes, seeming colder now. The slave knew he was kidding himself, expecting a master to care for a slave. The young man shrugged his perfectly tailored jacket on, buttoning the top button before leaving the room, Starrk following close behind.

The slave on the bed stared at the floor, not even willing to watch his new tormentor leave the room. He was furious, and his mind had come to a new conclusion, win the fight, kill the new master.

iiiiiii

Starrk hurried after his master, knowing the young man was tearing up on the inside. He had read his slave's worry, knowing he had been too kind, too quickly throwing the fighter's head and he'd remedied that by striking man. Starrk also knew the main reason for the hit was for the camera, knowing Tousen and probably Aizen had been watching and they would be questioning the noble's behaviour with the new slave. At least Ichigo had reasserted his reputation. Starrk had been on the receiving end of one of his master's strikes, as had they all in their effort to hide the master's true nature and he was the one nursing the bruise away at home. He was cut up about it for weeks afterward. It had been Starrk's idea in the first place.

Ichigo didn't stop until he reached the restroom, banging in and sitting on the fairly comfortable chair near the sinks. It was one of the few rooms accessible to the guests of the Baron that did not have surveillance and was a place they could be out of sight. Starrk turned the snib on the main door, ensuring their privacy before dropping the leather binder and wrapping his arms around the younger man, pressing his head into the hollow of his shoulder.

Ichigo knew better than to let his emotions get too hold of him, his colouring would not calm quickly if he got truly upset but it was a close thing. Other times he'd been forced to strike a slave, the victim knew he didn't mean it; the man in the pit would think he was just like all the rest.

"He's planning on throwing the fight, on letting the other kill him."

Starrk knew this; he was just as good at reading others as his master, having taught the younger himself.

"I had to get some spark back into him. He looked like he'd just been given a reprieve, like it was his final request before death. I thought if he was fighting with hate in his veins, he might win, just for spite."

"Ichigo, I know. I saw it on his face too. You did what was best. He will forgive you."

Ichigo pushed back from his old friend. He lowered his head onto his hand and took a deep breath. He felt something trickle from his nose and pulled his handkerchief from his inside pocket. Holding the fabric to his nose he dabbed, taking a quick look before folding it and putting it away. Not quickly enough it seemed, Starrk frowning at him.

"It is nothing."

The two left the room after Ichigo had composed himself, re-joining Tia with Nel now wide awake. "Uncle, where is the blue slave? Is he yours now?"

"Neliel, it is not your place to ask. And you had no business talking to that man. We will be having words when we return home." Unlike slaves, it was not done to punish family in public.

They made their way to the circle of the arena, the nobles sitting in long couches with long tables of refreshments, cheese, fruit and wine, set in front of them. Many of the females looking to snag a husband at these events came dressed in long gowns that split high on the thigh so that when you lounged, your leg would be scandalously shown. Orihime was reclining on a nude coloured couch, her blue gown and red hair standing out. One creamy thigh was peeking out of her gown and she shyly waved at him, beckoning him over. He declined, choosing an empty couch where he sat, his niece joining him a second later. Starrk poured a glass of wine for his master and a juice for the young mistress from pitchers before standing behind the seat, Tia falling into place next to him. Starrk did his best to convey what had happened to her but they knew they were being watched by the surrounding nobility.

A warm up match, something with a story line Ichigo ignored took place without him watching it. Nel sat quietly, swinging her little legs under the seat and watching as her shiny shoes appeared then disappeared with great amusement each time. A few of Ichigo's acquaintances drifted by, stopping for a moment, passing vague comments and greeting to the little girl in the green dress who smiled charmingly at each of them.

One of the semi-final matches took place, the hulk of a man Ichigo had instantly dismissed, ripping a finger off, throwing it into the sand. The poor slave screamed falling to his knees before the monster of a man wrapped his arms around the smaller one, snapping his neck. He had grabbed his little niece, turning her from the sight instantly as the finger had become detached, the little girl instinctively burying her head in his jacket. He held her head to his chest, blocking her ears with his heartbeat and other hand as he hummed deep in his chest, the old tune he'd been singing to the girl since she was born relaxing her.

After the match was over, and the body removed he relaxed his grip, fury ripping his insides apart that his niece was expected to watch the barbarianism. It was bad enough he was here. She wasn't the only child in the arena, nor the youngest; she wasn't the only one distressed either.

His fighter was up next, fighting against that brute of a man now that he'd won his match. There was a brief intermission to allow the fighter a breath but the match would be on soon. The nobility took the time to mingle more, drink more and regurgitate the previous events, each spilling over with the details from the last.

Ichigo handed his niece over to her nanny at the approach of his host and friends. Gin took a seat right next to him, reclining into the couch, and into the lord. "Hello Ichigo. Enjoying the bouts?"

"As well as one can Ichimaru."

"So formal My Lord. Your new fighter is up next, you want to put a wager on the man? Make things more interesting?"

"I fail to see how involving money will make things more interesting. The slave will win, or he won't. Taking your money will not change that fact."

Gin grinned; he liked the young Lord's quick wit and understated humour. He knew Lord Kurosaki despised these events, but he knew all must play their parts.

Tousen spoke up then. "I heard you had an altercation with your new fighter, I hope you didn't injure him too badly."

"The slave was getting too close to the young Lord's niece, I'm sure that was uncomfortable for him, isn't that right Kurosaki. I'm surprised you let your wet nurse allow the girl near a brute light that fighter." Aizen grinned down at the younger man, no friendliness in the smile at all.

"That's true my Lord Aizen. The blond slave clearly wasn't doing her job correctly. And yet here she is, still trusted with the girl's wellbeing."

Ichigo stood, noticing the lack of conversations around him signalling that people were witnessing his actions. "My niece is not hidden from any of the dealing of nobility, occasionally shielded from things that are above her age. She had a right to witness the selection of a slave. However you are correct about her slave's carelessness. I had hoped to deal with it once I had returned home but since it is public knowledge now, so shall the punishment be." Ichigo rounded the couch, watching Tia lower little Nel to the floor. The girl stared at her furious uncle and her now terrified nanny and she was unsure of what to do. Behind her uncle was Starrk holding a hand out, clearly telling her to come to him. She obeyed, turning before her uncle struck.

Ichigo stalked closer to his friend, hating the genuine flicker of fear in her eyes behind the façade. As she tripped over one of table legs, falling to her side, he finally reached her side. Her grey suit dress rose, showing her black stocking covered legs. She instinctually raised a hand to ward off a blow but that made him grab it, hauling her up towards him. Her face snapped to the side, her body following it as he released her hand. She muffled a scream, all false as the master had been surprisingly gently. Nnoitra had worked with the master, showing him how to make a loud and showy strike that stung, but didn't bruise.

It still left a red mark, for all that it would fade in an hour or so, and she saw her master's eyes flicker behind his mask of indifference. She came to her knees, keeping her head bowed. Waiting there for either a second blow, or forgiveness, the whole crowd watched Ichigo glare down at her.

"You will not allow my niece to be endangered or you shall be replaced. Is that clear?" The blond head before him nodded. "And you understand that this matter is not finished?" Again the head nodded. Ichigo judged the issue dealt with and returned to his seat, making sure to put a bit of distance between the silver haired man and himself. Not for long however as the long arm wrapped around his shoulders.

"Ah the legendary Kurosaki temper, not seen that for a while. I thought you had beaten all disobedience out of your lot."

"As had I. I feel I will have to readdress some issues." Ichigo felt the genuine squeeze to his shoulder that the older man gave him before he rose and left with the other two. No one approached him in the intermediate time before the last bout, something he was thankful for and he sat in silence staring into the distance. He felt Starrk at his elbow, just to the side of the arm of his chair and knew Tia was next to him. He hoped Nnoitra was having an easier time with the new slave.

The competitors for the next match were at their gates, waiting for them to rise. This gave them a clear view of just over half of the audience, and each other as they faced across the sands. The blue haired slave knew he had a tough component but witnessing his new master strike the blonde slave had boiled his blood. He was now determined to escape the ring, and deal with the fire haired master.

He watched as his gate sank to the floor, leaping over the last foot of it. He sprang into action, grabbing the high ground of the central rock before his monstrous opponent could reach him. Delivering a sharp kick to the thick skulled man did little than bloody his nose but it gained him first blood, something which boded well for a victory.

The bout lasted a long time, both pulling life fluid from the other with teeth and nails. The blue haired slave gripped a long thick arm before swinging it round, landing on the back with two feet, neatly dislocating the arm, before yanking it further, making it unusable. A swift kick to the kidneys had his opponent on the sand. Kneeling across the man's throat, the blue haired slave felt the man scrabble at his thigh for relief, the strong leg cutting off his air. Ignoring the scores cut into his leg, one finger digging into a deep wound, the slave kept the pressure on till the body under him stilled. He released it quickly, hoping he'd done it quick enough to save the man's life he stood, turning to his new master and bowing to his knees then his forehead pressed to the sand, as was expected. The young lord stood and waited till the slave regained his feet, nodding at the man as he turned to leave the arena.

The slave flexed his hands as he went back to his cage, knowing the master would be taking him tonight. Hopefully the slave could wrap his large hands around that slim delicate neck and crack his bones.

Ichigo nodded marginally at Starrk and he stood and swept out of the arena, heading to the main hall once more. Tia followed behind, Nel in her arms once more, the high heels of the calf length leather boots clicking on the marble floors. Zommari was in the hall waiting for them, having seen his master rise from the lower circle and he waited for his orders.

Starrk quickly took charge, ordering a slave of the household to instruct Nnoitra to ready the fighter for transport. He had Zommari bring the town car around and then requested another slave to go outside and find a slave called Szayel and get him to bring the second car around. Starrk had sent a message to had the pink haired slave bring the Landover to transport the new slave, his master couldn't trust the new one in the same vehicle, himself and Nnoitra present of not.

Nnoitra appeared soon after, new slave in tow. The blue haired man was still dressed for the arena, barefoot and all and was struggling with his captor. Starrk approached him, speaking softly.

"You will take the new one back in the rover with Szayel. He has a sedative with him if you would prefer. We will see you back in the house."

Nnoitra nodded, moving to leave the room, dragging his struggling captive with him. His master's voice stopped him, the young lord calling for a moment. Nnoitra frowned at the paleness in his master's skin, and the usual firm gait seeming a bit unsure.

"Slave what is your name?"

The blue haired man glared at his new master. "I have no name master."

"Slave, tell me your name."

"Grimmjow."

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