Bleach Fic: The other side of the moon (Part 1/2)
Title: The other side of the moon (Part 1/2)
Author: aviss
Pairing: Grimmjow/Ichigo
Rating: R
Word Count: ~5.000
Summary: Long time after the war someone from the past reappears to throw Ichigo's life into chaos.
A/N: I began to write this a long time ago, before we knew the battle would be in Karakura, so there are a couple of things deviating from canon as we know it.
The other side of the moon
Part I
"Ichigo!"
Ichigo looked up from the file he was studying to Renji's scowling face standing at his office's door.
"What is it? Can't you see I'm busy?" he said annoyed. It wasn't Renji's fault, but if he had known the amount of paperwork a Taichou needed to do and how bloody boring the job was, he would have never accepted the position.
"Busy, you idiot?" Renji approached him still scowling. "We are supposed to go to the Academy today. Don't tell me you've forgotten?"
He had.
"Fuck!"
"You have."
Ichigo stood up, dumping the file on top of his desk for another time and grabbing his white haori from the back of his chair. "Well, yes. Whose idea was to help with the Academy training anyway?"
Renji picked Zangetsu from its place next to the door and shoved into his hands. "It was Rukia's, and you agreed because you've never had the guts to say no to her."
"You also agreed."
"Yeah, but I have to share a bed with her and I've learned to pick my battles." Renji smirked. "Speaking of sharing a bed--"
Ichigo looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He knew the subject would come up eventually. It always did.
"I mean, don't you think is about time you consider finding someone?" Renji insisted. "It's been close to five decades since the end of the War, and I've heard your fukutaichou is giving you the eye."
"If I had any interest in a guy covered in tattoos, Renji," he said with a smirk of his own and a mock leer, "I'd look for the original. And anyway, Rikichi has eyes only for you."
Renji rolled his eyes, "You're not going to distract me, Ichigo. Rukia is worried. I am worried. Fuck, even Kuchiki-taichou is beginning to worry about you! It's been fifty years since then; can't you get over him and on with your life?"
Ichigo stopped and glared at him. "What do you mean?" he demanded angrily.
"I mean you and that fucking Espada. Do you think we didn't know?"
"Know what? What was there to know?"
It was Renji's turn to glare, "I knew then, and never said a fucking thing even though I didn't like it. I could see it: the fights, the wounds, the limping and those marks on your skin that weren’t there after the battle… I’m not blind, you know, but we were at war and it seemed to help you relieve tension. You guys had the unhealthiest of relationships."
Ichigo shook his head and began walking again, not looking at his friend. "You know nothing. You didn't know then and you don't know now."
Renji grabbed his arm, "Ichigo--"
"Drop it, Renji. Now hurry up, we're already late."
It could be seen clearly on Renji's face he didn't want to. Finally, he sighed and clenched his jaw, nodding.
They picked up the pace in silence, not looking at each other while they rushed to the Academy training grounds.
Ichigo thought about what his friend had said. They knew. And they wanted him to get over it. But there was nothing to get over; especially not an annoying dead Espada. Ichigo liked his life just fine the way it was, he was in no hurry to meet someone special and he didn't feel lonely at all. He had good friends, a good life and a comfortable position in the Gotei 13. If Renji and Rukia couldn't understand it was because they had always known they were perfect for each other. Ichigo had not yet found his destined partner so he was more than happy to wait.
"By the way," Renji broke the awkward silence once they arrived at the Academy, resuming their normal pace, "there is a recruit Ikkaku wants us to check."
Ichigo looked at him interested, grateful for the conversation so he could stop his mind going over the same things again. "Ikkaku? Interested in a recruit?
"Yes. He told me yesterday he wants the guy for the 11th Division. He intends to follow Kenpachi in the way he manages it. It's the first time he's shown any interest in a recruit."
"I know; he usually accepts only transfers from other Divisions, provided the candidate is bloodthirsty enough. Who's the guy?"
Renji shrugged. "I don't know yet. He wants us to fight him during the training today. He might offer him the position depending on how he holds up against us."
"Against us?" Ichigo couldn't help but look impressed. They were supposed to supervise the training and demonstrate with a sparring session between them, but Taichous didn't usually engage in fights with trainees. "How do we recognize the guy?"
Another shrug. "He said we'll know."
"Fine. We're here." He looked at the training grounds and saw the class had already started, the students divided in pairs and ready to begin fighting. "We're not too late, let's--"
Ichigo did a double take, freezing. He blinked. No. That wasn't possible. Renji collided against his back but he barely felt it.
"Ichigo?"
He kept staring, his mouth agape.
In the middle of the training ground, fighting against the instructor was Grimmjow. But that wasn't possible: he was wearing shinigami clothes and there were no bones protruding from his face, but it was him--there was no mistaking that bright blue hair, or those blue eyes, or the crazed expression on his face while he attacked relentlessly.
It had to be him. I couldn't be anyone else.
"I think I know who Ikkaku was talking about," he said weakly.
…
The cries of the wounded and dying faded slowly in the background; the only noise filling Ichigo's ears the pounding of his own heart. Around him a sea of blood and fire was spreading, the destruction of Las Noches almost complete. He had lost count long ago of the number of victims--arrancar, shinigami, human, it didn't matter--that stupid war had claimed. And he knew there would be even more by the end of the day.
Aizen's name would be among them if they were lucky.
He limped forward, the pain in his leg making it impossible for him to do more than drag it behind him. Gin had done a good job almost killing him, and he knew he was lucky to have only that wound to account for that battle but there was not time now to heal it. There would always be a chance later--if he was still alive.
"Focus, Shinigami, we're almost there."
Ichigo nodded, pushing forward. The only way for them, forward, where Aizen was waiting. He didn't need to look back to know Grimmjow was still there. It was surprising, even if he had his doubts at the beginning, how well they fought together. Even more surprising was the fact that Grimmjow was still fighting by his side.
If I let you get killed I won't be able to beat you next time. That had been his reason to change sides, and Ichigo didn't need another. This being Grimmjow, it was probably best believing that was the truth.
Just a bit more, a few yards away, and Aizen and the last of the Espada would be waiting for them.
"I can't let you pass," a voice he had heard before said in front of them; Ichigo grabbed his sword tighter, ready to deal with the obstacle.
Tousen.
A hand grabbed his sword arm. "I have a bone to pick with him, Shinigami. You carry on."
Ichigo nodded and continued forward. Always forward.
…
It took him a few seconds to compose himself, his mind suddenly thrown back to that last time so many years ago.
"The fuck!" Renji's startled shout voiced his exact thoughts.
The recruits and the instructor noticed their presence at that exact moment, as if alerted by Renji's exclamation. Ichigo blinked, still too shocked to react in any other way.
"Class," the instructor called everyone and turned to the new arrivals. "We have Abarai and Kurosaki Taichou helping us today with the training."
The class greeted them as one man, all standing to attention. Or almost all of them. There was one recruit ignoring everything around him, his entire focus on his instructor, glaring at him for stopping his fight.
If Ichigo had had any doubt before, he was completely certain now. No one except that arsehole Grimmjow could look that petulant for being denied a beating.
Grimmjow turned to look at them when he realized the instructor wasn't going to resume the fight, his eyes narrowing in recognition when he saw Ichigo. He was in front of him in an instant, his face showing only perverse delight.
"So you finally found me, Shinigami," he said before attacking.
Had this been anyone else, Ichigo would have been annoyed at the disrespect and probably immobilized the unruly student before giving him the scolding of his life. A smile curling his lips, he blocked the blow with his hands, not bothering to unsheathe his sword. He elbowed Grimmjow in the face while everything around them faded, only his opponent in front of him and the blood rushing through his veins.
They sparred barehanded for a while; their eyes locked and twin insane grins on their faces. Ichigo barely felt the blows, fifty years of experience now showing where before there was only raw power and eagerness to fight. Grimmjow grabbed the hilt of his zanpakutou and Ichigo saw it as the cue to take hold of his.
He was about to release Zangetsu when Grimmjow suddenly stopped, four bars of light trapping him before a hit to the back of his head knocked him out. The next Ichigo felt was a powerful hit to the face, his mind returning to the present with a shock. Renji was staring at him furious and concerned at the same time. It seemed Ichigo wasn't the only one caught off guard judging for the delayed reaction.
"I still remember what you guys though was foreplay," he hissed, low enough only Ichigo heard him, "Have you forgotten where you are, Taichou?"
Ichigo flushed, embarrassed. He realized every single eye around was fixed on him and Grimmjow, some of them staring gaping at the daring recruit who attacked a Taichou, the rest looking amused at said Taichou's response to the attack.
Damned Grimmjow! There was no one else in the world able to make him react like that.
He composed his thoughts and expression and called the instructor. "Please take this recruit to his rooms, he'll have to miss today's training exercise," he said with all the authority he could muster considering the situation. Ichigo nodded at Renji, who undid the kidou spell holding Grimmjow in place.
"Class will form in pairs," Renji said turning to the recruits with his sterner expression, one surely learned from his former Taichou. "We'll observe your fighting skills and correct you when necessary."
Ichigo took a deep breath, forcing his mind to move away from the fact that Grimmjow was there, alive. He would deal with that later; right now he couldn't afford to lose more respect that he surely already had.
"Later we will have a sparring session to demonstrate some techniques and we will pick the best of you to come on the next training exercise," he continued when Renji finished. "But before, how many of you have attained Shikai?"
Ichigo looked at the only hand raised and sighed; it was going to be a long day.
…
Everything faded from Ichigo's consciousness the moment he entered the throne room.
It was the only thing still intact in Las Noches and it looked like something out of a medieval movie, with the big throne on the top of the dais and Aizen sitting there looking at him amused.
"I knew you would come, Kurosaki-kun," he said calmly.
It was almost impossible to believe that someone who could smile with such gentleness was the most sadistic killer Ichigo had ever known.
"This has to end, Aizen."
"And it will end, Kurosaki-kun," Aizen said calmly.
Knowing this was a situation where words would do no good; Ichigo just called forth his mask and attacked.
…
Grimmjow opened his eyes slowly, his head throbbing painfully. With a moan, he tried to sit up, the room swirling wildly around for a few seconds. ¿What the fuck was he doing in his room? The last thing he remembered was fighting with that stupid instructor at the Academy. He took a deep breath and forced his mind to move past the pain, to recall what had happened to him.
Not remembering was something that bothered Grimmjow quite a lot, though he never let it show.
Since the first time he had conscience of himself, when he was but a brat fighting for survival in the 75th Rukongai District, he had known there was something he should remember. Everyone told him it was useless to try, and with time he had stopped talking about it--but never trying. There was nothing in this world that could convince Grimmjow to stop trying to recall his previous life.
There was something very important locked inside his memories. Something he had been able to see, briefly, in dreams. Short, tantalizing snatches of a past life. Grimmjow clung to them the same way he clung to the name.
He had come into existence in Soul Society as a brat, full of rage and violence and with a deep sense of loss lodged somewhere inside him. He knew there was something different in him, something that made him special. But so far he had been unable to find what it was.
At first he didn't even have a name to give and the people around--the few who dared talk to him--called him Mizuiro, his bright blue eyes and hair giving him the name he couldn't remember. He took it: it was a good name, Grimmjow had nothing against it, but he knew it wasn't his.
It came to him one night, in a dream. It was irritating that he couldn't remember anything about his dreams except some disjointed images and the feeling that there was someone there. Someone important. That night was the same, a dream about blood and fire and that voice, that voice calling to him.
"Grimmjow, you fucker!"
He woke up with the knowledge that Grimmjow was his real name. He didn't share it, though. He had no one to share it with and no desire to even if he had. It was his.
It was the same with the few things he managed to gather through the years. Sometimes the other person would come into focus, just for a few seconds, and Grimmjow was not surprised to see it was a man. A boy would be the best definition, clad in the black Shinigami clothes.
He began paying attention to his surrounding, waiting to see if that mysterious boy from his memories appeared. But none of the Shinigami patrolling Rukongai bore even a passing resemblance to the one he was looking for. He knew that boy was the key to his memories.
The boy!
He remembered then what happened before.
The Academy training, they had explained to the whole class that two of the strongest Taichous would be supervising their training session. Grimmjow had been interested, how could he not? His entire class was made of weaklings and the instructor was nothing but an annoying pushover who didn't fight him seriously. The only interesting thing that happened there was when a Taichou assisted with the training or took them on exercises to Earth. Like that brawny baldy that came the week before and who seemed to take an interest in Grimmjow.
He had been fighting with the instructor when the pair came, the whole class stopping to look at them. Grimmjow didn't want to stop the fight; he would have time to look at the newcomers later. The instructor had other plans, though, and Grimmjow was forced to turn around.
And there he was. The boy of his dreams, still wearing a Shinigami uniform but the white haori over it told Grimmjow why he had been unable to find him. His body had reacted before his stunned mind could, and he had stepped up to him and engaged him in the only kind of conversation he knew how to carry. A fight.
The boy--not a boy anymore, but a Taichou--knew him. Both of them did, if the shock on their faces was any indication. The pleasure written on his face while he fought Grimmjow, not even surprised at the attack, had told him everything he needed to know.
But still his memories were locked; they had not come back to him.
Grimmjow shook his head, standing up. It didn't matter, now he had found him it was only a question of time.
…
"Unbelievable!"
Rukia was standing in front of him, her arms crossed in front of her body and her whole posture radiating menace. Ichigo ignored her and concentrated on his food.
"What are you doing still here, Ichigo?" she asked dropping to the floor and sitting cross-legged, Renji came into his room a few seconds later.
Ichigo looked up at him. "You told her?"
Renji snorted. "Of course I told her, she's my fucking wife and your friend. I had to tell her." Renji also sat down and Ichigo looked at the door, wondering if the next person to appear would be Byakuya, also looking at him with the same pitying irritation his friends showed. It wouldn't be surprising; Byakuya had become an almost permanent fixture in their lives after the war. Not that he was less condescending, but at least he had become more human.
"It's none of your business, Renji," Ichigo protested, anger beginning to well inside him.
"It's our business, Ichigo," Rukia said leaning forward and fixing him with one of her best no-nonsense stares. "You've spent fifty years grieving for that bastard, thinking he was dead. Now you know he's not. Why are you not looking for him?"
"I wasn't grieving," he grounded through clenched teeth.
He had not been, no matter what his friends thought. Yes, he had a relationship with Grimmjow during the war, if what they had could be considered that. They fucked. As much as they could in the midst of destruction, but it was just that, fucking. And yes, Ichigo might have felt some regret when Grimmjow died, but he had not been grieving or moping or whatever his friends had convinced themselves he had been feeling.
He was just fine.
If he had no one to warm his bed at night was because he didn't want, not because he was still in love--he made that train of thought derail right there. Not love. There was nothing of love in his relationship with Grimmjow, and even allowing that word to enter his thoughts now was foolish.
Seeing Grimmjow that morning had thrown his off centre, to say the very least, and engaging him in a fight had brought back memories and feelings that were best put to rest. His body had reacted, that much was obvious, and the lust he had thought dormant came back. But that was no reason to look for him.
Grimmjow was a complication, one he didn't need in his life right now.
"Ichigo," Renji said, his voice and expression completely calm, "I've never liked him, and I think I made no secret of that. Before or now it doesn’t matter. I don't like him and I don't trust him. He was an Espada, for fuck's sake! I don't even know why he's here. He should be, by all accounts, properly dead."
"Tousen killed him," Ichigo said flatly, realizing just now. "Tousen was still, technically, a Shinigami. And his zanpakutou was made to cleanse souls. Grimmjow probably wasn't evil before he turned into a hollow, just unbearably annoying, so his soul was cleansed."
Rukia nodded, "It makes sense, a bit," she said. "But still doesn’t explain why you're here instead of out there looking for him."
"You need to find him," Renji continued, "if only so you can fucking move on with your life. Actually, I don't care if you decide to shag the living daylights out of each other again, as long and you snap out of it! We've been watching you reject and keep everyone who wanted to be close to you away, and we're tired of it."
Ichigo sighed, his anger fading. They were right, and he knew they did it only because they cared. But he wasn't going to look for Grimmjow, no matter what they said.
"Have you forgotten, Rukia?" He finally said, "People here don't remember their previous life, it's a burden best left behind."
And that was what had been worrying him the entire afternoon since the moment the instructor returned and told them "Mizuiro" was asleep in his room and apologizing for his student's bad manners. Mizuiro, not Grimmjow. It didn't matter if he looked like him, it was obviously another person.
"He seemed to remember enough of you when he attacked," Renji said, "And you won't know just how much until you talk to him."
"I won't go looking for him," Ichigo insisted, his tone final.
"You won't need to, Kurosaki-taichou," a new voice said from the door and all of them turned to look.
Ichigo didn't need to look to know who was at his door; he knew the voice perfectly well. "What are you doing here, Mizuiro-kun?" he asked wearily, the name tasting sour in his mouth. He was the last person Ichigo wanted to see right now.
Grimmjow scowled, his eyes narrowing and his entire posture tensing. He clearly didn't like what he heard any more than Ichigo did. He almost rolled his eyes.
"Grimmjow." Ichigo finally said breaking the silence fallen between them.
Grimmjow smiled, more like a smirk. "I knew that was my name, and I knew you knew me. You will be able to tell me what I can't remember."
…
Ichigo coughed, blood dripping slowly from his lips on to the hard ground. He tried to rise again, the broken Zangetsu close enough to grab if only he had enough energy to stretch his arm out.
He had been unable to summon his mask for the past few minutes, and had lost count of the times it broke in the middle of the fight. And still Aizen stood, a bit bloodied, a bit battered and somehow not quite so amused as before. But he stood, alive and so terribly powerful Ichigo realized now the gap between them.
But he couldn't give up. If he gave up and let Aizen win everything they'd done would have been for naught, and he didn't want to picture the smirk in Grimmjow's face if he let himself be killed by someone else.
Even if that someone else was Aizen.
"It's useless, Kurosaki-kun," Aizen said sheathing his sword, "you can't win against me."
Ichigo cursed Gin and that previous fight that had sapped his strength, though he could tell that even before he was no match for Aizen. He wondered if there was someone who was, and hoped so or everyone would be doomed.
"You're back; any problem, Kaname?" Aizen said looking back.
Ichigo startled at the voice and focused on the recent arrival. Tousen. He looked the worse for wear and it was clear he had not come out of the fight unscathed, but the fact he was there and Grimmjow wasn't told Ichigo everything he needed to know.
A wave of despair and fury crashed over him, his body moving with an energy he had thought all but spent before, Zangetsu reforming on the ground. He was on his feet, mask already covering his face before Aizen had the chance to turn around to look at him. Ichigo launched himself against Tousen at the same time several masked figures arrived.
…
"Grimmjow Jaggerjack."
He tasted the name in his mouth, his lips curving in an insane grin. It felt right, better than anything he'd heard before. He looked at the boy--the Taichou--Kurosaki Ichigo. He had been talking for a while, looking at him and telling the principal events of what he knew of his previous life.
It wasn't much, but it would have to be enough. There wasn't anyone else who could tell him if what Kurosaki said was true.
"So I was an Espada," he said slowly, trying to remember the little he knew about the war against Aizen. Even after fifty years it still dredged up too many memories and people was reluctant to talk about it. "An Enemy. Why do I have the feeling I was more than that?"
Kurosaki looked uncomfortable for a minute, then he looked Grimmjow in the eye and sighed.
"You were an enemy, at first. We fought, several times."
"But we're still alive, at least you are." Grimmjow didn't think he'd ever entertained the thought of leaving an enemy breathing after a fight. Being an Espada against a Shinigami, that notion was ridiculous.
"We were interrupted almost every single time," he said with a small smile and a far away look on his face. "The last time--"
"You killed me?" Grimmjow ventured though he was sure that wasn't it. It didn't fit with what he could guess from Kurosaki's expression.
"No, I didn't."
Silence fell between them, not entirely uncomfortable but with the weight of too many things unsaid. Grimmjow didn't like it; this guy knew more than he was letting on, something was off. Everything he had said, about the war, about hollows becoming arrancar was the truth, Grimmjow didn't doubt it. But something was missing.
Kurosaki said at some point Grimmjow turned against Aizen. Why? Why would he do that?
"You're not telling me something, Shinigami," Grimmjow finally snapped, the word coming from his mouth unchecked. He blinked. Why had he called Kurosaki that?
Grimmjow wasn't the only one startled by it, as it appeared by Kurosaki's expression. His eyes narrowed and he stood up.
"I've always hated when you call me that," he said slowly, almost to himself. "Go, Grimmjow."
Grimmjow also stood up. "No."
"Go now, Grimmjow," Ichigo insisted, a scowl settling on his face. "I've had enough of this conversation."
"You're hiding something from me," Grimmjow approached him slowly, seeing how Kurosaki's expression closed off and his entire body tensed. He's expecting something, he thought. What, he didn't know. He took a step closer, stopping mere inches from Ichigo and the next he knew, Grimmjow was on his arse on the ground.
"Leave now, Grimmjow." Ichigo's voice was dead serious and his eyes showed the promise of pain to come. Grimmjow was sorely tempted to stand up and hit him, provoke him enough to get, if not the answers he sought, at least a satisfying fight.
Instead he just stood up and left.
…
Damned Grimmjow!
Ichigo took a deep breath when the door closed and dropped to the floor, closing his eyes. Fifty years, fifty fucking years and he was still able to get a rise out of Ichigo every single time.
He had been close to losing it there at the end, so tempted to grab his head and crash their mouths together. Let things follow their natural course from there. It was clear this Mizuiro, this Grimmjow remembered little enough of his past life but was still the same annoying bastard he was before.
And he was still unbearably attracted to him. Ichigo had been painfully hard during all the conversation.
Maybe he should have taken Renji's advice earlier and found someone to relieve tension with. He would not be in the embarrassing situation he was now in that case.
Not caring about anything anymore, Ichigo let his hand move down, part the folds of his clothes and take hold of his aching cock. He stroked himself slowly, picturing the old Grimmjow on the back of his closed eyelids: the Espada, bones protruding from his face and that tantalizing hole in the middle of his defined stomach.
"Come on, Shinigami, you know you like it. You keep coming back for more. Admit it, be it fighting or fucking you are never satisfied."
His hand moving faster, Ichigo thought about their first times together, when there was more blood than pleasure and he usually looked as if mauled by a tiger. A panther would be more precise.
It gentled a bit later: there was enough blood and pain around them to make their few moments together another war. It still toed the line between pain and pleasure, but at least this time was because they liked it that way.
He increased his pace, his climax so close he could almost taste it.
"Don't let them kill you, Ichigo. That's my job."
With a moan that sounded like a name, Ichigo came.
…
Part II
Author: aviss
Pairing: Grimmjow/Ichigo
Rating: R
Word Count: ~5.000
Summary: Long time after the war someone from the past reappears to throw Ichigo's life into chaos.
A/N: I began to write this a long time ago, before we knew the battle would be in Karakura, so there are a couple of things deviating from canon as we know it.
The other side of the moon
Part I
"Ichigo!"
Ichigo looked up from the file he was studying to Renji's scowling face standing at his office's door.
"What is it? Can't you see I'm busy?" he said annoyed. It wasn't Renji's fault, but if he had known the amount of paperwork a Taichou needed to do and how bloody boring the job was, he would have never accepted the position.
"Busy, you idiot?" Renji approached him still scowling. "We are supposed to go to the Academy today. Don't tell me you've forgotten?"
He had.
"Fuck!"
"You have."
Ichigo stood up, dumping the file on top of his desk for another time and grabbing his white haori from the back of his chair. "Well, yes. Whose idea was to help with the Academy training anyway?"
Renji picked Zangetsu from its place next to the door and shoved into his hands. "It was Rukia's, and you agreed because you've never had the guts to say no to her."
"You also agreed."
"Yeah, but I have to share a bed with her and I've learned to pick my battles." Renji smirked. "Speaking of sharing a bed--"
Ichigo looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He knew the subject would come up eventually. It always did.
"I mean, don't you think is about time you consider finding someone?" Renji insisted. "It's been close to five decades since the end of the War, and I've heard your fukutaichou is giving you the eye."
"If I had any interest in a guy covered in tattoos, Renji," he said with a smirk of his own and a mock leer, "I'd look for the original. And anyway, Rikichi has eyes only for you."
Renji rolled his eyes, "You're not going to distract me, Ichigo. Rukia is worried. I am worried. Fuck, even Kuchiki-taichou is beginning to worry about you! It's been fifty years since then; can't you get over him and on with your life?"
Ichigo stopped and glared at him. "What do you mean?" he demanded angrily.
"I mean you and that fucking Espada. Do you think we didn't know?"
"Know what? What was there to know?"
It was Renji's turn to glare, "I knew then, and never said a fucking thing even though I didn't like it. I could see it: the fights, the wounds, the limping and those marks on your skin that weren’t there after the battle… I’m not blind, you know, but we were at war and it seemed to help you relieve tension. You guys had the unhealthiest of relationships."
Ichigo shook his head and began walking again, not looking at his friend. "You know nothing. You didn't know then and you don't know now."
Renji grabbed his arm, "Ichigo--"
"Drop it, Renji. Now hurry up, we're already late."
It could be seen clearly on Renji's face he didn't want to. Finally, he sighed and clenched his jaw, nodding.
They picked up the pace in silence, not looking at each other while they rushed to the Academy training grounds.
Ichigo thought about what his friend had said. They knew. And they wanted him to get over it. But there was nothing to get over; especially not an annoying dead Espada. Ichigo liked his life just fine the way it was, he was in no hurry to meet someone special and he didn't feel lonely at all. He had good friends, a good life and a comfortable position in the Gotei 13. If Renji and Rukia couldn't understand it was because they had always known they were perfect for each other. Ichigo had not yet found his destined partner so he was more than happy to wait.
"By the way," Renji broke the awkward silence once they arrived at the Academy, resuming their normal pace, "there is a recruit Ikkaku wants us to check."
Ichigo looked at him interested, grateful for the conversation so he could stop his mind going over the same things again. "Ikkaku? Interested in a recruit?
"Yes. He told me yesterday he wants the guy for the 11th Division. He intends to follow Kenpachi in the way he manages it. It's the first time he's shown any interest in a recruit."
"I know; he usually accepts only transfers from other Divisions, provided the candidate is bloodthirsty enough. Who's the guy?"
Renji shrugged. "I don't know yet. He wants us to fight him during the training today. He might offer him the position depending on how he holds up against us."
"Against us?" Ichigo couldn't help but look impressed. They were supposed to supervise the training and demonstrate with a sparring session between them, but Taichous didn't usually engage in fights with trainees. "How do we recognize the guy?"
Another shrug. "He said we'll know."
"Fine. We're here." He looked at the training grounds and saw the class had already started, the students divided in pairs and ready to begin fighting. "We're not too late, let's--"
Ichigo did a double take, freezing. He blinked. No. That wasn't possible. Renji collided against his back but he barely felt it.
"Ichigo?"
He kept staring, his mouth agape.
In the middle of the training ground, fighting against the instructor was Grimmjow. But that wasn't possible: he was wearing shinigami clothes and there were no bones protruding from his face, but it was him--there was no mistaking that bright blue hair, or those blue eyes, or the crazed expression on his face while he attacked relentlessly.
It had to be him. I couldn't be anyone else.
"I think I know who Ikkaku was talking about," he said weakly.
…
The cries of the wounded and dying faded slowly in the background; the only noise filling Ichigo's ears the pounding of his own heart. Around him a sea of blood and fire was spreading, the destruction of Las Noches almost complete. He had lost count long ago of the number of victims--arrancar, shinigami, human, it didn't matter--that stupid war had claimed. And he knew there would be even more by the end of the day.
Aizen's name would be among them if they were lucky.
He limped forward, the pain in his leg making it impossible for him to do more than drag it behind him. Gin had done a good job almost killing him, and he knew he was lucky to have only that wound to account for that battle but there was not time now to heal it. There would always be a chance later--if he was still alive.
"Focus, Shinigami, we're almost there."
Ichigo nodded, pushing forward. The only way for them, forward, where Aizen was waiting. He didn't need to look back to know Grimmjow was still there. It was surprising, even if he had his doubts at the beginning, how well they fought together. Even more surprising was the fact that Grimmjow was still fighting by his side.
If I let you get killed I won't be able to beat you next time. That had been his reason to change sides, and Ichigo didn't need another. This being Grimmjow, it was probably best believing that was the truth.
Just a bit more, a few yards away, and Aizen and the last of the Espada would be waiting for them.
"I can't let you pass," a voice he had heard before said in front of them; Ichigo grabbed his sword tighter, ready to deal with the obstacle.
Tousen.
A hand grabbed his sword arm. "I have a bone to pick with him, Shinigami. You carry on."
Ichigo nodded and continued forward. Always forward.
…
It took him a few seconds to compose himself, his mind suddenly thrown back to that last time so many years ago.
"The fuck!" Renji's startled shout voiced his exact thoughts.
The recruits and the instructor noticed their presence at that exact moment, as if alerted by Renji's exclamation. Ichigo blinked, still too shocked to react in any other way.
"Class," the instructor called everyone and turned to the new arrivals. "We have Abarai and Kurosaki Taichou helping us today with the training."
The class greeted them as one man, all standing to attention. Or almost all of them. There was one recruit ignoring everything around him, his entire focus on his instructor, glaring at him for stopping his fight.
If Ichigo had had any doubt before, he was completely certain now. No one except that arsehole Grimmjow could look that petulant for being denied a beating.
Grimmjow turned to look at them when he realized the instructor wasn't going to resume the fight, his eyes narrowing in recognition when he saw Ichigo. He was in front of him in an instant, his face showing only perverse delight.
"So you finally found me, Shinigami," he said before attacking.
Had this been anyone else, Ichigo would have been annoyed at the disrespect and probably immobilized the unruly student before giving him the scolding of his life. A smile curling his lips, he blocked the blow with his hands, not bothering to unsheathe his sword. He elbowed Grimmjow in the face while everything around them faded, only his opponent in front of him and the blood rushing through his veins.
They sparred barehanded for a while; their eyes locked and twin insane grins on their faces. Ichigo barely felt the blows, fifty years of experience now showing where before there was only raw power and eagerness to fight. Grimmjow grabbed the hilt of his zanpakutou and Ichigo saw it as the cue to take hold of his.
He was about to release Zangetsu when Grimmjow suddenly stopped, four bars of light trapping him before a hit to the back of his head knocked him out. The next Ichigo felt was a powerful hit to the face, his mind returning to the present with a shock. Renji was staring at him furious and concerned at the same time. It seemed Ichigo wasn't the only one caught off guard judging for the delayed reaction.
"I still remember what you guys though was foreplay," he hissed, low enough only Ichigo heard him, "Have you forgotten where you are, Taichou?"
Ichigo flushed, embarrassed. He realized every single eye around was fixed on him and Grimmjow, some of them staring gaping at the daring recruit who attacked a Taichou, the rest looking amused at said Taichou's response to the attack.
Damned Grimmjow! There was no one else in the world able to make him react like that.
He composed his thoughts and expression and called the instructor. "Please take this recruit to his rooms, he'll have to miss today's training exercise," he said with all the authority he could muster considering the situation. Ichigo nodded at Renji, who undid the kidou spell holding Grimmjow in place.
"Class will form in pairs," Renji said turning to the recruits with his sterner expression, one surely learned from his former Taichou. "We'll observe your fighting skills and correct you when necessary."
Ichigo took a deep breath, forcing his mind to move away from the fact that Grimmjow was there, alive. He would deal with that later; right now he couldn't afford to lose more respect that he surely already had.
"Later we will have a sparring session to demonstrate some techniques and we will pick the best of you to come on the next training exercise," he continued when Renji finished. "But before, how many of you have attained Shikai?"
Ichigo looked at the only hand raised and sighed; it was going to be a long day.
…
Everything faded from Ichigo's consciousness the moment he entered the throne room.
It was the only thing still intact in Las Noches and it looked like something out of a medieval movie, with the big throne on the top of the dais and Aizen sitting there looking at him amused.
"I knew you would come, Kurosaki-kun," he said calmly.
It was almost impossible to believe that someone who could smile with such gentleness was the most sadistic killer Ichigo had ever known.
"This has to end, Aizen."
"And it will end, Kurosaki-kun," Aizen said calmly.
Knowing this was a situation where words would do no good; Ichigo just called forth his mask and attacked.
…
Grimmjow opened his eyes slowly, his head throbbing painfully. With a moan, he tried to sit up, the room swirling wildly around for a few seconds. ¿What the fuck was he doing in his room? The last thing he remembered was fighting with that stupid instructor at the Academy. He took a deep breath and forced his mind to move past the pain, to recall what had happened to him.
Not remembering was something that bothered Grimmjow quite a lot, though he never let it show.
Since the first time he had conscience of himself, when he was but a brat fighting for survival in the 75th Rukongai District, he had known there was something he should remember. Everyone told him it was useless to try, and with time he had stopped talking about it--but never trying. There was nothing in this world that could convince Grimmjow to stop trying to recall his previous life.
There was something very important locked inside his memories. Something he had been able to see, briefly, in dreams. Short, tantalizing snatches of a past life. Grimmjow clung to them the same way he clung to the name.
He had come into existence in Soul Society as a brat, full of rage and violence and with a deep sense of loss lodged somewhere inside him. He knew there was something different in him, something that made him special. But so far he had been unable to find what it was.
At first he didn't even have a name to give and the people around--the few who dared talk to him--called him Mizuiro, his bright blue eyes and hair giving him the name he couldn't remember. He took it: it was a good name, Grimmjow had nothing against it, but he knew it wasn't his.
It came to him one night, in a dream. It was irritating that he couldn't remember anything about his dreams except some disjointed images and the feeling that there was someone there. Someone important. That night was the same, a dream about blood and fire and that voice, that voice calling to him.
"Grimmjow, you fucker!"
He woke up with the knowledge that Grimmjow was his real name. He didn't share it, though. He had no one to share it with and no desire to even if he had. It was his.
It was the same with the few things he managed to gather through the years. Sometimes the other person would come into focus, just for a few seconds, and Grimmjow was not surprised to see it was a man. A boy would be the best definition, clad in the black Shinigami clothes.
He began paying attention to his surrounding, waiting to see if that mysterious boy from his memories appeared. But none of the Shinigami patrolling Rukongai bore even a passing resemblance to the one he was looking for. He knew that boy was the key to his memories.
The boy!
He remembered then what happened before.
The Academy training, they had explained to the whole class that two of the strongest Taichous would be supervising their training session. Grimmjow had been interested, how could he not? His entire class was made of weaklings and the instructor was nothing but an annoying pushover who didn't fight him seriously. The only interesting thing that happened there was when a Taichou assisted with the training or took them on exercises to Earth. Like that brawny baldy that came the week before and who seemed to take an interest in Grimmjow.
He had been fighting with the instructor when the pair came, the whole class stopping to look at them. Grimmjow didn't want to stop the fight; he would have time to look at the newcomers later. The instructor had other plans, though, and Grimmjow was forced to turn around.
And there he was. The boy of his dreams, still wearing a Shinigami uniform but the white haori over it told Grimmjow why he had been unable to find him. His body had reacted before his stunned mind could, and he had stepped up to him and engaged him in the only kind of conversation he knew how to carry. A fight.
The boy--not a boy anymore, but a Taichou--knew him. Both of them did, if the shock on their faces was any indication. The pleasure written on his face while he fought Grimmjow, not even surprised at the attack, had told him everything he needed to know.
But still his memories were locked; they had not come back to him.
Grimmjow shook his head, standing up. It didn't matter, now he had found him it was only a question of time.
…
"Unbelievable!"
Rukia was standing in front of him, her arms crossed in front of her body and her whole posture radiating menace. Ichigo ignored her and concentrated on his food.
"What are you doing still here, Ichigo?" she asked dropping to the floor and sitting cross-legged, Renji came into his room a few seconds later.
Ichigo looked up at him. "You told her?"
Renji snorted. "Of course I told her, she's my fucking wife and your friend. I had to tell her." Renji also sat down and Ichigo looked at the door, wondering if the next person to appear would be Byakuya, also looking at him with the same pitying irritation his friends showed. It wouldn't be surprising; Byakuya had become an almost permanent fixture in their lives after the war. Not that he was less condescending, but at least he had become more human.
"It's none of your business, Renji," Ichigo protested, anger beginning to well inside him.
"It's our business, Ichigo," Rukia said leaning forward and fixing him with one of her best no-nonsense stares. "You've spent fifty years grieving for that bastard, thinking he was dead. Now you know he's not. Why are you not looking for him?"
"I wasn't grieving," he grounded through clenched teeth.
He had not been, no matter what his friends thought. Yes, he had a relationship with Grimmjow during the war, if what they had could be considered that. They fucked. As much as they could in the midst of destruction, but it was just that, fucking. And yes, Ichigo might have felt some regret when Grimmjow died, but he had not been grieving or moping or whatever his friends had convinced themselves he had been feeling.
He was just fine.
If he had no one to warm his bed at night was because he didn't want, not because he was still in love--he made that train of thought derail right there. Not love. There was nothing of love in his relationship with Grimmjow, and even allowing that word to enter his thoughts now was foolish.
Seeing Grimmjow that morning had thrown his off centre, to say the very least, and engaging him in a fight had brought back memories and feelings that were best put to rest. His body had reacted, that much was obvious, and the lust he had thought dormant came back. But that was no reason to look for him.
Grimmjow was a complication, one he didn't need in his life right now.
"Ichigo," Renji said, his voice and expression completely calm, "I've never liked him, and I think I made no secret of that. Before or now it doesn’t matter. I don't like him and I don't trust him. He was an Espada, for fuck's sake! I don't even know why he's here. He should be, by all accounts, properly dead."
"Tousen killed him," Ichigo said flatly, realizing just now. "Tousen was still, technically, a Shinigami. And his zanpakutou was made to cleanse souls. Grimmjow probably wasn't evil before he turned into a hollow, just unbearably annoying, so his soul was cleansed."
Rukia nodded, "It makes sense, a bit," she said. "But still doesn’t explain why you're here instead of out there looking for him."
"You need to find him," Renji continued, "if only so you can fucking move on with your life. Actually, I don't care if you decide to shag the living daylights out of each other again, as long and you snap out of it! We've been watching you reject and keep everyone who wanted to be close to you away, and we're tired of it."
Ichigo sighed, his anger fading. They were right, and he knew they did it only because they cared. But he wasn't going to look for Grimmjow, no matter what they said.
"Have you forgotten, Rukia?" He finally said, "People here don't remember their previous life, it's a burden best left behind."
And that was what had been worrying him the entire afternoon since the moment the instructor returned and told them "Mizuiro" was asleep in his room and apologizing for his student's bad manners. Mizuiro, not Grimmjow. It didn't matter if he looked like him, it was obviously another person.
"He seemed to remember enough of you when he attacked," Renji said, "And you won't know just how much until you talk to him."
"I won't go looking for him," Ichigo insisted, his tone final.
"You won't need to, Kurosaki-taichou," a new voice said from the door and all of them turned to look.
Ichigo didn't need to look to know who was at his door; he knew the voice perfectly well. "What are you doing here, Mizuiro-kun?" he asked wearily, the name tasting sour in his mouth. He was the last person Ichigo wanted to see right now.
Grimmjow scowled, his eyes narrowing and his entire posture tensing. He clearly didn't like what he heard any more than Ichigo did. He almost rolled his eyes.
"Grimmjow." Ichigo finally said breaking the silence fallen between them.
Grimmjow smiled, more like a smirk. "I knew that was my name, and I knew you knew me. You will be able to tell me what I can't remember."
…
Ichigo coughed, blood dripping slowly from his lips on to the hard ground. He tried to rise again, the broken Zangetsu close enough to grab if only he had enough energy to stretch his arm out.
He had been unable to summon his mask for the past few minutes, and had lost count of the times it broke in the middle of the fight. And still Aizen stood, a bit bloodied, a bit battered and somehow not quite so amused as before. But he stood, alive and so terribly powerful Ichigo realized now the gap between them.
But he couldn't give up. If he gave up and let Aizen win everything they'd done would have been for naught, and he didn't want to picture the smirk in Grimmjow's face if he let himself be killed by someone else.
Even if that someone else was Aizen.
"It's useless, Kurosaki-kun," Aizen said sheathing his sword, "you can't win against me."
Ichigo cursed Gin and that previous fight that had sapped his strength, though he could tell that even before he was no match for Aizen. He wondered if there was someone who was, and hoped so or everyone would be doomed.
"You're back; any problem, Kaname?" Aizen said looking back.
Ichigo startled at the voice and focused on the recent arrival. Tousen. He looked the worse for wear and it was clear he had not come out of the fight unscathed, but the fact he was there and Grimmjow wasn't told Ichigo everything he needed to know.
A wave of despair and fury crashed over him, his body moving with an energy he had thought all but spent before, Zangetsu reforming on the ground. He was on his feet, mask already covering his face before Aizen had the chance to turn around to look at him. Ichigo launched himself against Tousen at the same time several masked figures arrived.
…
"Grimmjow Jaggerjack."
He tasted the name in his mouth, his lips curving in an insane grin. It felt right, better than anything he'd heard before. He looked at the boy--the Taichou--Kurosaki Ichigo. He had been talking for a while, looking at him and telling the principal events of what he knew of his previous life.
It wasn't much, but it would have to be enough. There wasn't anyone else who could tell him if what Kurosaki said was true.
"So I was an Espada," he said slowly, trying to remember the little he knew about the war against Aizen. Even after fifty years it still dredged up too many memories and people was reluctant to talk about it. "An Enemy. Why do I have the feeling I was more than that?"
Kurosaki looked uncomfortable for a minute, then he looked Grimmjow in the eye and sighed.
"You were an enemy, at first. We fought, several times."
"But we're still alive, at least you are." Grimmjow didn't think he'd ever entertained the thought of leaving an enemy breathing after a fight. Being an Espada against a Shinigami, that notion was ridiculous.
"We were interrupted almost every single time," he said with a small smile and a far away look on his face. "The last time--"
"You killed me?" Grimmjow ventured though he was sure that wasn't it. It didn't fit with what he could guess from Kurosaki's expression.
"No, I didn't."
Silence fell between them, not entirely uncomfortable but with the weight of too many things unsaid. Grimmjow didn't like it; this guy knew more than he was letting on, something was off. Everything he had said, about the war, about hollows becoming arrancar was the truth, Grimmjow didn't doubt it. But something was missing.
Kurosaki said at some point Grimmjow turned against Aizen. Why? Why would he do that?
"You're not telling me something, Shinigami," Grimmjow finally snapped, the word coming from his mouth unchecked. He blinked. Why had he called Kurosaki that?
Grimmjow wasn't the only one startled by it, as it appeared by Kurosaki's expression. His eyes narrowed and he stood up.
"I've always hated when you call me that," he said slowly, almost to himself. "Go, Grimmjow."
Grimmjow also stood up. "No."
"Go now, Grimmjow," Ichigo insisted, a scowl settling on his face. "I've had enough of this conversation."
"You're hiding something from me," Grimmjow approached him slowly, seeing how Kurosaki's expression closed off and his entire body tensed. He's expecting something, he thought. What, he didn't know. He took a step closer, stopping mere inches from Ichigo and the next he knew, Grimmjow was on his arse on the ground.
"Leave now, Grimmjow." Ichigo's voice was dead serious and his eyes showed the promise of pain to come. Grimmjow was sorely tempted to stand up and hit him, provoke him enough to get, if not the answers he sought, at least a satisfying fight.
Instead he just stood up and left.
…
Damned Grimmjow!
Ichigo took a deep breath when the door closed and dropped to the floor, closing his eyes. Fifty years, fifty fucking years and he was still able to get a rise out of Ichigo every single time.
He had been close to losing it there at the end, so tempted to grab his head and crash their mouths together. Let things follow their natural course from there. It was clear this Mizuiro, this Grimmjow remembered little enough of his past life but was still the same annoying bastard he was before.
And he was still unbearably attracted to him. Ichigo had been painfully hard during all the conversation.
Maybe he should have taken Renji's advice earlier and found someone to relieve tension with. He would not be in the embarrassing situation he was now in that case.
Not caring about anything anymore, Ichigo let his hand move down, part the folds of his clothes and take hold of his aching cock. He stroked himself slowly, picturing the old Grimmjow on the back of his closed eyelids: the Espada, bones protruding from his face and that tantalizing hole in the middle of his defined stomach.
"Come on, Shinigami, you know you like it. You keep coming back for more. Admit it, be it fighting or fucking you are never satisfied."
His hand moving faster, Ichigo thought about their first times together, when there was more blood than pleasure and he usually looked as if mauled by a tiger. A panther would be more precise.
It gentled a bit later: there was enough blood and pain around them to make their few moments together another war. It still toed the line between pain and pleasure, but at least this time was because they liked it that way.
He increased his pace, his climax so close he could almost taste it.
"Don't let them kill you, Ichigo. That's my job."
With a moan that sounded like a name, Ichigo came.
…
Part II