Lone Wolves and Stray Dogs
Title: Dogs of War: Chapter One
Pairing: Renji x Starrk
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: A foul-mouthed Renji (mmm...)
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, I only steal its characters so I can go on perverted conquests via fan fics. Also, all characters involved in sexual situations are fictional and above the legal age of consent in the state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.
Summary: Aizen Sosuke and his army of Arrancar have been defeated, and the only surviving Espada is Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Or so everyone believed. When Abarai Renji meets the rogue Primera, Coyote Starrk, he slowly learns that the two of them have more in common than you'd think.
A/N: I NEED TO STOP WRITING. I shall OD on fanfiction, and crack pairings. This story is within the same realm as Smoke and Mirrors (hence the mentioning of Grimmjow).
Beta: The lovely goldensprite even though I changed a lot since you last read it and you probably won't even recognize half of it ;_; who helped correct any typos and grammar errors. Also, your kickass feedback is always AWESOME. ILU ♥
Abarai Renji didn't learn until the third visit that the Vizard had an ex-Espada with them. He and Hisagi Shuuhei had been on a routine mission in the Living World, and when Ichigo decided to see his half-hollow buddies, the two seated shinigami went with him. At the time Hisagi had seemed pretty gung-ho about the whole thing, which, all things considered, hadn't surprised Renji in the slightest. They'd known each other long enough that he'd long since heard the story behind Hisagi's tattoo, and after the war the man had told him, anxiously, that he'd seen its inspiration during battle. In the flesh.
What a shock that must have been for the scarred shinigami. At first he had honestly believed he was simply delirious from blood loss.
Of course once they got there, Renji had immediately picked out which Vizard it was. It hadn't been hard at all, considering the man's taken aback expression when his amber eyes saw that infamous tattoo. They didn't speak directly in front of the others, but there was no denying the unspoken familiarity between them; like secrets being passed with every sidelong glance. The tattooed lieutenant had been insanely curious afterward, and badgered Hisagi relentlessly as to the details of their private little reunion (if they had even had one at all). But Hisagi, tight-lipped bastard that he was, had merely shrugged him off inflexibly. At that Renji could only frown softly, because trying to force info out of Hisagi Shuuhei was akin to having a conversation with a hollow over tea. Virtually impossible.
Besides, Renji had bigger fish to fry. Like the rest of those damned hollow-shinigami. All of them seemed to accept his presence, albeit begrudgingly, because a friend of Ichigo's had to be okay by their standards. But that didn't mean they accepted him into their little group. The only one who had the decency to talk to him politely was the big guy with pink hair. The others didn't spare him more than one sentence, and then there was the bitchy one who glared at him any chance she got. Oh, and the green-haired girl who'd taken to calling him "Cherry-tan," or something else that was equally moronic. He would'a been flattered that she thought enough of him to designate a nickname at all, if it didn't sound so goddamn stupid.
It kind of pissed him off that he was left out of the loop, he'd admit. Just something else to reinforce the old "stray dog" mentality that he'd gotten used to. But it was fine. He wouldn't let it get to him. If they wanted to be stuck-up assholes who refused to acknowledge him, then so what. He'd still strut around their place like he had official business to conduct.
Hisagi, on the other hand, was seemingly welcomed with open arms. Where Renji was treated as if he didn't exist, his tattooed comrade was constantly harassed. Either on the receiving end of a fist, or the receiving end of a joke. It was the same old thing: quips over the suggestive number on his cheek. Blah blah blah, they'd all heard it a hundred times. As for the fists, the brunet got into his fair share of scuffles with the Vizard. The bitchy one, the chick with glasses, and the guy with a toothy grin dealt the most blows.
Renji knew what the boisterous show was all about. It was Hisagi's initiation, and as far as the redhead could tell, the guy was passing. He had to wonder if he was somehow going through an initiation of his own, and just didn't realize it. Did they want to see how long he'd last being ignored? Well, if that were the case, they had better prepare themselves for a long haul. Because the sixth division lieutenant could handle whatever they had in store for him.
Anyway, the first two days Renji hadn't seen him, but on the third he'd caught a glimpse of someone new. The basement below their beat up warehouse was identical to Urahara Kisuke's training grounds: all blue skies overhead and red rock below. The man had been draped over one of those rocks, and at first Renji thought the guy was dead. He'd even turned to two of the Vizard (was it Love and Rose?) and asked them what was up. They'd taken one look at the object Renji was pointing at, then waved him off with a simple, "He's sleeping. He does it all the time."
And that was that. They didn't divulge anything else, and the redhead wanted to press them further; but they took off before he had the chance. It wasn't until the eight Vizard gathered around a barbecue grill that Renji managed to get Ichigo alone. After a little prodding and some heavy-set scowls, he finally got the stubborn asshole to spill the beans. The man's name was Coyote Starrk, and he was the former Primera Espada. Renji had been shocked, because as far as he knew, all the Arrancar were killed in the war. With the exception of Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, of course, who was now a (can you fucking believe it?) shinigami.
According to Ichigo, it had been Urahara who stumbled across the ex-Espada, not too long after the war ended. The eccentric shop-keeper ended up making a gigai for the Primera, similar to that of his own (and the Vizard's). Since then it sounded like Starrk was wandering around on his own, back and forth between Urahara's shop, the Vizard's hide-out, and anywhere else around Karakura town that piqued his interest. But it all sounded a little too weird to Renji. An Arrancar living freely in the Human World? Did Soul Society know? No, they couldn't know. They didn't know about the Vizard for little over a century-- wouldn't be surprising if they didn't know about this rogue Arrancar, either. Actually, it'd be more surprising if they did know.
After Renji had gotten the dish, he didn't do much about it. Not at first, anyway. He had to sit on the whole idea for a night, lying awake in Urahara's shop. He and Hisagi were staying there temporarily while in the Human World, though the ninth division squad leader did sneak out at some point. . . The secretive bastard.
During the war the redhead had only come into contact with two Espada. The faggy Octava, and the mammoth, bigger-than-Hueco-Mundo-itself Cero. Both of them seemed pretty fucked in the head, in his humble opinion. Especially the one with pink hair, the crazy fucker. . . So of course he couldn't just overlook the fact that another Espada was living in Karakura Town. A fucking Living World town. And no one seemed the least bit bothered by it, either, which only frustrated him more. Not the Vizard, not Urahara Kisuke, not Ichigo. . . Renji just couldn't help himself. His curiosity got the best of him. He had to know what the Primera was like; why it was that no one had taken him out the moment they realized he was still alive.
Renji could see why Urahara or Ichigo would take it all in stride, but the Vizard? From the little he knew of them, they seemed like a pretty tightknit group. An elite group. One that rejected most people. So why were they so tolerant of a former Espada? He could only assume that it had something to do with what Starrk was. . . The man was an Arrancar: something that had both shinigami and hollow powers. That made him like the Vizard, didn't it? Maybe that's why they let him hang around without being bothered. . . Whatever the reason, he wanted to get to the bottom of it.
The following day, the ex-Espada known as Starrk was there, much to Renji's approval. This time the Primera was awake, sitting cross-legged on the ground, the rock behind him supporting his back. Yeah, there was definitely something different about that one. His energy wasn't anything like the energy Renji had felt with the Octava and Cero. Starrk's energy was far more relaxed and. . .nonthreatening. To the redhead it looked like the former Espada had no intention of inflicting harm on anyone.
Huh. Well he'd be fucking damned.
Squinting, the redhead watched the former Espada out of the corner of his eye. The Vizard had barbecued again, and all of them gathered around in a haphazard circle to eat. But there was Starrk off on his own, just sitting there. He seemed completely oblivious to everything around him, like he'd never been involved in a fucking war. And more importantly, like he'd never been the enemy of the eleven people whom he was sharing space with. It made Renji's brow twitch, the dual force of irritation and intrigue swirling around inside him. And what the hell was Starrk looking at, anyway? There was some kind of magazine in his hand, but Renji couldn't see the cover. He took a swig of the sake in his hand, then set the bottle down and got up so he could saunter over.
The Primera took notice of him quicker than Renji expected him to. The redhead could feel Starrk's gaze on him with his every advancing step, making him feel even heavier than he already did on a daily basis. The other man's stare looked harmless enough, and yet somehow it was still unnerving. . . Like there was a whisper of blistering intensity lurking just beneath it, waiting to be unearthed. If Renji hadn't taken an interest in the brunet before, he definitely would have in that moment. And as the distance between them shortened, he could see that the Primera had blue-gray eyes, in a shade that Renji wasn't familiar with. They were serene and cool, borderline bored, but something about them seemed to grip Renji's soul in a warm embrace.
"You're one of Ichigo's friends."
Starrk's voice was low, deep, and unhurried. There was something about the tone of it that relaxed Renji. . . He was still on the alert, prepared for anything the Espada might spring on him, but there was no denying the sense of calm that washed over him. For whatever reason he didn't feel like he was at risk, and so he allowed himself a soft grin.
"Yeah. Name's Abarai Renji. I hear you're Starrk."
Dark brows went up, and Renji took note of their delicate arch. They were overly feminine, he observed, but for some reason that didn't put him off like he thought it would. The thinness of those brows went well with the Primera's almond shaped eyes, and the sharp angle of his high cheekbones.
"That's right," Starrk mumbled, his tone softer than it was before. The redhead continued to smirk, leaning his shoulder against the rock as he stared at the other man. He was dressed like a human, which was no surprise, in an old looking military jacket. The color was gray, and there were patches of white where the material had worn down. He had gloves on too that caught Renji's attention, drew his eye to the Primera's long fingers. And that inevitably had him looking at the magazine, at a double-page spread of a naked, busty woman with blond hair. The chick had tits to rival Matsumoto Rangiku, and her legs were spread in such a way that it left nothing to the imagination. Auburn eyes widened, a tattooed brow twitching up before a mischievous grin curled the corners of Renji's mouth. The former Primera Espada was looking at a fucking porno mag. Well hot damn, for supposedly having no heart, the hollow being certainly had a pulse.
"Where the hell did you get that?"
"Lisa-san has a whole stash."
Brows arching faintly, Renji slowly sank down so he was crouching. He used the rock for balance, his forearms resting on his knees. The other man stared at him for a moment, before his gaze went back to the nude girl. Renji stared at the picture lazily, his mind on the "Lisa" Starrk had mentioned. She was the one with glasses, if he remembered right. He thought he'd seen her with her nose in a magazine, far too engrossed for it to be anything conventional. He'd been suspicious as to what she was looking at, but little did he know it was shit like this.
"I'm guessin' that's your type, if the drool on your chin is anything to go by," he mumbled with a sly, suggestive tone. Even if the brunet wasn't looking at him, Renji's devious smirk could be heard in the dip of his voice.
A ghost of a smile appeared on the other man's face, and the eyes that were already at half-mast drooped even farther. "She'd be anyone's type, wouldn't she?"
"Wouldn't say anyone," Renj chuckled, sinking down so he was sitting instead of crouching. He let his legs fan wide, forearms going to rest on his knees once more. "Personally, that look of hers ain't my thing."
"Not your thing?" the Primera questioned immediately. His slate blue eyes found Renji's, and the look on the brunet's face spoke of genuine surprise and confusion. "What don't you like?"
Inked brows creeping over a tanned forehead, Renji couldn't help smirking. He continued to stare into Starrk's eyes, before turning his gaze on the naked woman. "Well, her hair for one thing. I like 'em darker. And those things," he motioned towards her breasts with his hand, "they're too big."
If the ex-Espada looked surprised before, now his expression was truly dumbfounded. "Too big? You're the first guy I've ever heard complain about something like that."
Renji felt a steady burn in his cheeks, but still he managed to retain his grin. "Haven't you ever heard that saying before?" he asked, his auburn gaze smoldering with a wolfish playfulness. "You never want more than a handful."
Starrk really did look perplexed, his thin brows furrowed in apparent thought. Renji would have never guessed that the Primera could be so expressive, and he found himself liking it. The shock in those slate blue eyes was beginning to ebb, though, much to his disappointment. Starrk's features were returning to their previous state of drowsy-looking awareness, inch by inch.
"I've never had a problem with more than a handful," the brunet commented, his brows arched in a matter-of-fact sort of way. Renji felt his own inked brows shoot skyward, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. There were all kinds of implications in that one sentence, and he just couldn't help himself.
"Are you trying to say that you've groped big tits before?"
"Sure, why not?"
Red-brown eyes widened faintly, and Renji couldn't suppress his shit-eating grin. He'd really scored big with this guy. . . The brunet seemed in a league of his own, different from the other Espada Renji had been around. Not only did the "hollow" being have an easy-going disposition, he had a fucking sex drive. Or at least enough of one that he liked looking at dirty magazines and fondling tits. The redhead had to lean closer, his voice dropping an octave as he mumbled, "Who?"
Starrk's brows arched slightly, but his gaze didn't shift as he flipped through the pages slowly. "Who what?"
"Who was the girl?"
At that the other man frowned, so softly that Renji would have missed it if he hadn't been staring. He watched silently as blue-gray eyes slowly rose, then turned towards him. The Primera's stare was surprisingly intense, and Renji suddenly felt frozen, unsure of what was going through Starrk's mind. He didn't know what to say as the brunette stared at him, and then that unreadable gaze drifted, falling on the redhead's neck. Renji watched as steel blue eyes widened faintly, sleek brows pulling together. He was completely baffled by Starrk's sudden silence, and it was starting to make him uncomfortable.
"What?" Renji muttered, leaning back. He tilted his head down, trying to see what it was Starrk was staring at so intently. Of course he couldn't see his own neck, so he just reached up to cover it as he shot the Primera a questioning look.
"It's nothing. Why are you over here? Shouldn't you be with your friends?" Starrk asked, pointing past Renji with his gloved hand. The redhead followed the other man's movement, turning his head to look at the group of Vizard sitting with Hisagi and Ichigo. He stared at the group with a lazy expression that held traces of bitterness. Fucking Ichigo and Hisagi, sitting with the hollow-shinigami like they were one big happy family. Renji's lip curled a little, and he gave a dismissive snort before turning his gaze back to Starrk. When his eyes met slate blue he felt the beginnings of a grin.
"I shouldn't be anywhere if I don't feel like it," he drawled carelessly. "They got boring, so I thought I'd make myself a new friend."
The Primera looked taken aback by that, his delicate brows arching in mild surprise. "Friends with an Espada?"
"Well you're an ex-Espada now, ain'chya? And you looked s'lonely sitting over here all by yourself."
The redhead's tone held a trace of teasing intent, and he quirked an eyebrow at the other man. He thought Starrk looked surprised before, now he looked truly startled. And was that. . .a light flush on his cheekbones? No fucking way! Renji wanted to howl and grin like a madman.
"I'm not an Espada any more because the war's over, but I'll always be an Arrancar," Starrk mumbled softly, his features smoothing. An almost forlorn look overcame the man's sculpted face, so subtle that it was hardly noticeable. His elegant eyes were nothing but calm and compliant, though. Renji's grin softened under the other man's stare, and he swayed a little where he sat, shrugging his shoulders.
"Does that mean we can't be friends 'cause you're still an enemy of mine, Arrancar?" he asked, humor still lacing his words. He offered the Primera a lazy little smile, his brow quirking again. The other man just stared at him, brows furrowed over hardening eyes.
"No. . ."
"You do have a point, y'know," Renji drawled, glancing at Starrk out of the corner of his eye. He grinned slowly and arched both of his tattooed brows. "The Winter War is over, but shinigami will always be against hollows. So I guess you and I are enemies, ne?"
The Primera frowned softly, but his steel blue gaze was seemingly unfazed as he looked away. "I'm not against you. I'd rather go home and sleep than fight any of you shinigami. That kind of stuff was never in my nature."
"Never in your nature?" Renji cocked an eyebrow, his expression conveying that he was unconvinced. "You fought in the war, didn't you? It's hard to imagine that fighting isn't in your nature when you let yourself be a soldier for Aizen."
"That war was such a pain in the ass," Starrk mumbled, closing his eyes as he scratched at the back of his head. "I just wanted to repay my debt."
His inked brow going higher, the redhead stared at the other man questioningly. "What debt?"
Instead of answering Starrk just sighed tiredly and pushed himself to a stand. Renji watched the other man with a soft scowl, agitation building inside him as the Primera started walking away.
"I don't think you'd understand."
"Try me."
The brunet paused, standing in front of Renji's sitting form, but turned to the side so the tattooed shinigami could see his profile. Starrk was long and slender, but Renji had a feeling that there was an underlying strength hidden beneath those clothes. He could see it in the way Starrk's dark pants clung to his muscular thigh.
"All of my friends wasted away just from being around me. Aizen knew others like me, who were strong enough to get close without dying. He gave me a chance to know them too, and that's why I fought for him."
Inked brows shot up, and for a moment the only thing Renji could think to do was stare. Aizen knew people who wouldn't die just from being around Starrk? That's how fucking strong the bastard was? He had to wonder what kind of weaklings the Primera had been around before, because he hadn't died yet under the guy's mere presence, and neither had Hisagi, Ichigo, Urahara, or the Vizard. . .
But that wasn't the thing that really got the redhead. Starrk had said he had friends. Hollows didn't fucking have friends. And there was also the implication that he was. . .lonely? That's why he joined Aizen, so he could be around people who wouldn't die? Friendship and loneliness. . . It wasn't possible for a hollow to feel those things. That's why they were hollows. They didn't have hearts, or human feelings. So why did the Primera display those things in spades? A sex drive, a laid-back demeanor, the capability to feel lonely and have friends. . . It was all too human, and that confused Renji. When he decided he'd study the Primera, he expected another monster like the ones he'd met in Hueco Mundo. He expected another crazy, unfeeling freak like the Octava or the Cero. But instead he came face to face with someone who was seemingly at the opposite end of the spectrum. Starrk was slowly annihilating all of Renji's previous (mis)conceptions, and it made the man all the more captivating.
Just what the fuck are you?
"You seem strong enough to be a friend, shinigami-san."
"A friend who wants to bury you," Renji said slowly, his ink brows furrowed over a calculating gaze. After a moment he let an almost wicked smile curl the corners of his mouth. There was a dangerous glint in his eye as he pushed himself up, using the rock at his back for leverage. He stood at his full height and stared the Espada in the eye.
"Bury me?" the other man mumbled, a look of soft confusion and barely there caution passing over his features.
"In the ground," Renji clarified, grinning wider. "You gotta be strong, Starrk. Once upon a time you were the Primera Espada, and apparently your strength alone made your buddies melt away. You must be a real beast on the battlefield, huh?"
At that Starrk's brows furrowed faintly, and then he heaved a heavy side, scratching at his scalp for the second time. "I told you that I'm not a fighter. I didn't think you were the type for that blood-thirsty sort of thing." The other man paused there, another sigh falling from his full lips. The soft exhalation sounded disheartened, somehow, and his cool gaze seemed to mirror that emotion.
The brunet's words were true, Renji really wasn't the type. Yeah, he liked a good fight; liked getting fucked up every now and then. But he didn't love it to the point that he could be comparable to someone like Zaraki Kenpachi. That being said, the ex-Espada was getting under his skin in such a way that made him itch like he had a rash. Renji had already come to the conclusion that this Arrancar was unlike the rest. He realized that Starrk could be putting on a front-- milking the whole "gentle soul" persona to keep people off his back. But something inside Renji's heart told him that wasn't the case. Something told him that Starrk was genuine.
Now that he knew the brunet was capable of things that he really shouldn't be. . . Well, it had Renji wanting to unearth even more. He had an almost unbearable desire to discover everything from the inside out. One of the first things on his list was Starrk's strength. Aizen hadn't made the brunet one of his top Espada for nothing. The man had to be powerful as fuck, and for whatever reason he wasn't showcasing it. Was he scared, or was it really just "not in his nature" like he so-claimed?
Renji knew that he'd have to go about it carefully. He didn't want to lure the hollow in Starrk to the surface; that would only make the ex-Espada like all the rest, and essentially kill the redhead's interest. . . Really, the only thing he wanted was to witness Starrk's infamous strength. He wanted to know how powerful the brunet really was, because fuck, he was the goddamn Primera. The strength of his presence alone had been enough to kill other hollows, or so it was said. And to think that someone who was so calm and seemingly uninterested could possess an incredible amount of power. . . How could Renji not want to feel it for himself? It had to be hiding under the Primera's impartial exterior, like a bear in hibernation.
And the sleeping bear has razor sharp teeth and claws, doesn't he? Made for ripping flesh and crushing bone when the time calls for it. . .
As if seeing the legend come to life wasn't enough, Renji had one more reason. To see that cool, unfazed attitude crack, shaken by the intensity of battle. To see those tired eyes burning with power, and that lean, sluggish body thrumming with the need to protect itself from death.
"You'd be disappointed if we ever came to blows."
Starrk said that as if he'd been able to read Renji's thoughts. The redhead blinked once to gather himself, regrouping in reality so he wouldn't get lost inside his own mind.
"Would I? I think that you must be capable of doin' some serious damage," he drawled, stepping closer to Starrk. His large hands were held casually inside the pockets of his hakama, and he jerked his head sideways, cocking an eyebrow. "You're just too lazy ta make the kill, ain'chya? No one's grabbed you by the balls hard enough to get you motivated the way you need to be."
The Primera just frowned, his dark lashes drooping so low that his eyes were almost closed. Then he simply shook his head and sighed softly. "What a pain. You're not gonna let me off the hook, are you? And here I thought I could finally relax. The war's over; can't you relax too?"
Looking up, Starrk fixed the redhead with a tired stare. And the next thing Renji knew the other man was shoving the porno mag against his broad chest.
"Here. Look at that and take care of yourself. Put all that aggression to something useful, shinigami-san. Maybe then you'll be too worn out to pick a fight."
Starrk let the magazine go and Renji's hand was forced from his pocket, shooting up to catch the reading material so it wouldn't fall. The brunet started walking away, and Renji watched him with a lopsided grin. "I told you my name was Abarai Renji!" he shouted after the Primera. "So quit with the 'shinigami-san' shit!"
The other man didn't turn back, just waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder. Renji chuckled to himself, his attentive gaze on Starrk's back. The ex-Espada strolled over to the group of nine, and the silver-haired Vizard (who was sitting cross-legged on the ground), held a plate in the air. Starrk swiped some of the proffered food as he walked by, and if the two men exchanged words Renji didn't catch them. The redhead continued to watch the Primera as he walked up the stairs that lead to the warehouse above, and only when the man was out of sight did Renji let himself look away.
Snorting softly, the red-haired vice-captain turned his attention on the magazine in his hand. It was open to a page of a raven-haired girl with pale skin, and at that his inked brows shot skyward. So Starrk had been paying attention when the redhead said he liked 'em darker? Well shit, fuck me sideways. . . Renji actually felt touched. The former Espada had taken the time to find a girl who'd appeal to him, and that was. . .unexpectedly thoughtful. What was that he determined earlier, about all-too-human behavior? The Primera was like no other "hollow," Renji was sure of that. . .
With a throaty laugh he licked two of his fingers, then pinched the page between each calloused digit, ready to rip it out. And that's when he felt the kick to the back of his head, forcing a stunned squawk from his mouth.
"I don't remember giving that to you. If you want one, then have the guts to ask for it yourself. Until then piss off."
Renji's head spun around, his eyes already narrowed as he sought his offender. Standing on the rock where he and Starrk had been sitting, was the bespectacled Vizard he knew to be Lisa. She perched there with her arms crossed over her chest, a no-bullshit look on her face. With the height difference between them, he could almost see up her skirt. . . And what a skirt it was-- made of a dark material that was pleated and short. That was one schoolgirl who was very not innocent. He knew that for damn sure. Or maybe he'd just come to that conclusion because now he knew what she was looking at all fucking day?
Nope. An outfit like that (and on a girl who looked like that) was always debauched, porn or not.
Grinning slowly, the sixth division lieutenant turned around so he was facing Lisa fully. He closed the magazine neatly, his gaze heavy-lidded as he handed the perverted property over.
"You're a real freak, ain'chya?"
The dark-haired Vizard stared at him with incredibly green-blue, obstinate eyes. "It's called having a healthy interest," she said, jumping off the rock so she was standing beside him. She swiped the magazine from his hand, then turned away to walk back towards the group of nine. "The real freaks are the ones who try hiding it."
"Is that so?" Renji challenged, his dark brow arching. The woman didn't acknowledge him as he walked beside her; didn't even glance in his direction. He narrowed his vermilion eyes as he scowled at her head. And that's when realization dawned on him, and he found his eyebrow cocking again.
"Hey, just how long were you standing on that rock?
"Long enough to know that dark hair gets you off."
"You were eavesdroppin'?!"
"Shut up, so what if I was?" Lisa demanded, incredibly straight-faced. "It's natural to be curious."
"Most people call that being nosy," Renji corrected.
"And I call a shinigami bugging me a suicide by proxy. Now piss off."
Glaring harder, the redhead considered ripping that magazine away from Lisa's grasp and taking off. He considered finding her entire collection and stealing those, too. Trying to fight her was another option, but not as satisfying. He liked the idea of making her suffer for longer than just five minutes, and he had the feeling that denying the Vizard her dirty kicks would be the fastest route there.
But all plots were forgotten when he heard someone calling his name. Irritated, he glared at Ichigo, who was standing with arms crossed, a scowl of his own marring his orange brows. Renji felt his expression soften, his gaze questioning as he stared at his friend. Ichigo didn't say anything, just jerked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing towards the staircase.
Guess that means we're leaving.
Sighing inwardly, Renji looked at Lisa one final time. "Your hospitality continues to amaze me," he said, a sarcastically pleasant smile on face. The teal-eyed woman stared at him, the corner of her mouth lifting to form a smirk. The gesture was just as bitingly sardonic.
"You've only seen the tip of the iceberg. If it's too much for you already, you should save yourself another soiled diaper and run back home. Shinigami belong in Soul Society. You have no business being here."
The redhead actually chuckled, weirdly amused by her abrasiveness. Not to mention that there seemed to be something in her tone, or in the way that her mouth quirked, that told him her words weren't as harsh as they sounded. Was it just wishful thinking, or were the Vizard starting to warm up to him?
Not bothering with a response, Renji just waved the woman off and sauntered over to Ichigo. It wasn't all that surprising when Hisagi told them that he was going to stay longer, which had the tattooed vice-captain squinting. The fucking bastard; what had gotten into him? Renji made a mental note of berating the guy later, or at least interrogating him. He wanted to know how Hisagi's reunion had gone, dammit! It must have been good if he wanted to keep hanging around. . . But Ichigo was being impatient, and Renji had better things to consider, so the two of them left without a second thought for the shady, ninth division captain.
Chapter Two →
Pairing: Renji x Starrk
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: A foul-mouthed Renji (mmm...)
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, I only steal its characters so I can go on perverted conquests via fan fics. Also, all characters involved in sexual situations are fictional and above the legal age of consent in the state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.
Summary: Aizen Sosuke and his army of Arrancar have been defeated, and the only surviving Espada is Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Or so everyone believed. When Abarai Renji meets the rogue Primera, Coyote Starrk, he slowly learns that the two of them have more in common than you'd think.
A/N: I NEED TO STOP WRITING. I shall OD on fanfiction, and crack pairings. This story is within the same realm as Smoke and Mirrors (hence the mentioning of Grimmjow).
Beta: The lovely goldensprite even though I changed a lot since you last read it and you probably won't even recognize half of it ;_; who helped correct any typos and grammar errors. Also, your kickass feedback is always AWESOME. ILU ♥
Abarai Renji didn't learn until the third visit that the Vizard had an ex-Espada with them. He and Hisagi Shuuhei had been on a routine mission in the Living World, and when Ichigo decided to see his half-hollow buddies, the two seated shinigami went with him. At the time Hisagi had seemed pretty gung-ho about the whole thing, which, all things considered, hadn't surprised Renji in the slightest. They'd known each other long enough that he'd long since heard the story behind Hisagi's tattoo, and after the war the man had told him, anxiously, that he'd seen its inspiration during battle. In the flesh.
What a shock that must have been for the scarred shinigami. At first he had honestly believed he was simply delirious from blood loss.
Of course once they got there, Renji had immediately picked out which Vizard it was. It hadn't been hard at all, considering the man's taken aback expression when his amber eyes saw that infamous tattoo. They didn't speak directly in front of the others, but there was no denying the unspoken familiarity between them; like secrets being passed with every sidelong glance. The tattooed lieutenant had been insanely curious afterward, and badgered Hisagi relentlessly as to the details of their private little reunion (if they had even had one at all). But Hisagi, tight-lipped bastard that he was, had merely shrugged him off inflexibly. At that Renji could only frown softly, because trying to force info out of Hisagi Shuuhei was akin to having a conversation with a hollow over tea. Virtually impossible.
Besides, Renji had bigger fish to fry. Like the rest of those damned hollow-shinigami. All of them seemed to accept his presence, albeit begrudgingly, because a friend of Ichigo's had to be okay by their standards. But that didn't mean they accepted him into their little group. The only one who had the decency to talk to him politely was the big guy with pink hair. The others didn't spare him more than one sentence, and then there was the bitchy one who glared at him any chance she got. Oh, and the green-haired girl who'd taken to calling him "Cherry-tan," or something else that was equally moronic. He would'a been flattered that she thought enough of him to designate a nickname at all, if it didn't sound so goddamn stupid.
It kind of pissed him off that he was left out of the loop, he'd admit. Just something else to reinforce the old "stray dog" mentality that he'd gotten used to. But it was fine. He wouldn't let it get to him. If they wanted to be stuck-up assholes who refused to acknowledge him, then so what. He'd still strut around their place like he had official business to conduct.
Hisagi, on the other hand, was seemingly welcomed with open arms. Where Renji was treated as if he didn't exist, his tattooed comrade was constantly harassed. Either on the receiving end of a fist, or the receiving end of a joke. It was the same old thing: quips over the suggestive number on his cheek. Blah blah blah, they'd all heard it a hundred times. As for the fists, the brunet got into his fair share of scuffles with the Vizard. The bitchy one, the chick with glasses, and the guy with a toothy grin dealt the most blows.
Renji knew what the boisterous show was all about. It was Hisagi's initiation, and as far as the redhead could tell, the guy was passing. He had to wonder if he was somehow going through an initiation of his own, and just didn't realize it. Did they want to see how long he'd last being ignored? Well, if that were the case, they had better prepare themselves for a long haul. Because the sixth division lieutenant could handle whatever they had in store for him.
Anyway, the first two days Renji hadn't seen him, but on the third he'd caught a glimpse of someone new. The basement below their beat up warehouse was identical to Urahara Kisuke's training grounds: all blue skies overhead and red rock below. The man had been draped over one of those rocks, and at first Renji thought the guy was dead. He'd even turned to two of the Vizard (was it Love and Rose?) and asked them what was up. They'd taken one look at the object Renji was pointing at, then waved him off with a simple, "He's sleeping. He does it all the time."
And that was that. They didn't divulge anything else, and the redhead wanted to press them further; but they took off before he had the chance. It wasn't until the eight Vizard gathered around a barbecue grill that Renji managed to get Ichigo alone. After a little prodding and some heavy-set scowls, he finally got the stubborn asshole to spill the beans. The man's name was Coyote Starrk, and he was the former Primera Espada. Renji had been shocked, because as far as he knew, all the Arrancar were killed in the war. With the exception of Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, of course, who was now a (can you fucking believe it?) shinigami.
According to Ichigo, it had been Urahara who stumbled across the ex-Espada, not too long after the war ended. The eccentric shop-keeper ended up making a gigai for the Primera, similar to that of his own (and the Vizard's). Since then it sounded like Starrk was wandering around on his own, back and forth between Urahara's shop, the Vizard's hide-out, and anywhere else around Karakura town that piqued his interest. But it all sounded a little too weird to Renji. An Arrancar living freely in the Human World? Did Soul Society know? No, they couldn't know. They didn't know about the Vizard for little over a century-- wouldn't be surprising if they didn't know about this rogue Arrancar, either. Actually, it'd be more surprising if they did know.
After Renji had gotten the dish, he didn't do much about it. Not at first, anyway. He had to sit on the whole idea for a night, lying awake in Urahara's shop. He and Hisagi were staying there temporarily while in the Human World, though the ninth division squad leader did sneak out at some point. . . The secretive bastard.
During the war the redhead had only come into contact with two Espada. The faggy Octava, and the mammoth, bigger-than-Hueco-Mundo-itself Cero. Both of them seemed pretty fucked in the head, in his humble opinion. Especially the one with pink hair, the crazy fucker. . . So of course he couldn't just overlook the fact that another Espada was living in Karakura Town. A fucking Living World town. And no one seemed the least bit bothered by it, either, which only frustrated him more. Not the Vizard, not Urahara Kisuke, not Ichigo. . . Renji just couldn't help himself. His curiosity got the best of him. He had to know what the Primera was like; why it was that no one had taken him out the moment they realized he was still alive.
Renji could see why Urahara or Ichigo would take it all in stride, but the Vizard? From the little he knew of them, they seemed like a pretty tightknit group. An elite group. One that rejected most people. So why were they so tolerant of a former Espada? He could only assume that it had something to do with what Starrk was. . . The man was an Arrancar: something that had both shinigami and hollow powers. That made him like the Vizard, didn't it? Maybe that's why they let him hang around without being bothered. . . Whatever the reason, he wanted to get to the bottom of it.
The following day, the ex-Espada known as Starrk was there, much to Renji's approval. This time the Primera was awake, sitting cross-legged on the ground, the rock behind him supporting his back. Yeah, there was definitely something different about that one. His energy wasn't anything like the energy Renji had felt with the Octava and Cero. Starrk's energy was far more relaxed and. . .nonthreatening. To the redhead it looked like the former Espada had no intention of inflicting harm on anyone.
Huh. Well he'd be fucking damned.
Squinting, the redhead watched the former Espada out of the corner of his eye. The Vizard had barbecued again, and all of them gathered around in a haphazard circle to eat. But there was Starrk off on his own, just sitting there. He seemed completely oblivious to everything around him, like he'd never been involved in a fucking war. And more importantly, like he'd never been the enemy of the eleven people whom he was sharing space with. It made Renji's brow twitch, the dual force of irritation and intrigue swirling around inside him. And what the hell was Starrk looking at, anyway? There was some kind of magazine in his hand, but Renji couldn't see the cover. He took a swig of the sake in his hand, then set the bottle down and got up so he could saunter over.
The Primera took notice of him quicker than Renji expected him to. The redhead could feel Starrk's gaze on him with his every advancing step, making him feel even heavier than he already did on a daily basis. The other man's stare looked harmless enough, and yet somehow it was still unnerving. . . Like there was a whisper of blistering intensity lurking just beneath it, waiting to be unearthed. If Renji hadn't taken an interest in the brunet before, he definitely would have in that moment. And as the distance between them shortened, he could see that the Primera had blue-gray eyes, in a shade that Renji wasn't familiar with. They were serene and cool, borderline bored, but something about them seemed to grip Renji's soul in a warm embrace.
"You're one of Ichigo's friends."
Starrk's voice was low, deep, and unhurried. There was something about the tone of it that relaxed Renji. . . He was still on the alert, prepared for anything the Espada might spring on him, but there was no denying the sense of calm that washed over him. For whatever reason he didn't feel like he was at risk, and so he allowed himself a soft grin.
"Yeah. Name's Abarai Renji. I hear you're Starrk."
Dark brows went up, and Renji took note of their delicate arch. They were overly feminine, he observed, but for some reason that didn't put him off like he thought it would. The thinness of those brows went well with the Primera's almond shaped eyes, and the sharp angle of his high cheekbones.
"That's right," Starrk mumbled, his tone softer than it was before. The redhead continued to smirk, leaning his shoulder against the rock as he stared at the other man. He was dressed like a human, which was no surprise, in an old looking military jacket. The color was gray, and there were patches of white where the material had worn down. He had gloves on too that caught Renji's attention, drew his eye to the Primera's long fingers. And that inevitably had him looking at the magazine, at a double-page spread of a naked, busty woman with blond hair. The chick had tits to rival Matsumoto Rangiku, and her legs were spread in such a way that it left nothing to the imagination. Auburn eyes widened, a tattooed brow twitching up before a mischievous grin curled the corners of Renji's mouth. The former Primera Espada was looking at a fucking porno mag. Well hot damn, for supposedly having no heart, the hollow being certainly had a pulse.
"Where the hell did you get that?"
"Lisa-san has a whole stash."
Brows arching faintly, Renji slowly sank down so he was crouching. He used the rock for balance, his forearms resting on his knees. The other man stared at him for a moment, before his gaze went back to the nude girl. Renji stared at the picture lazily, his mind on the "Lisa" Starrk had mentioned. She was the one with glasses, if he remembered right. He thought he'd seen her with her nose in a magazine, far too engrossed for it to be anything conventional. He'd been suspicious as to what she was looking at, but little did he know it was shit like this.
"I'm guessin' that's your type, if the drool on your chin is anything to go by," he mumbled with a sly, suggestive tone. Even if the brunet wasn't looking at him, Renji's devious smirk could be heard in the dip of his voice.
A ghost of a smile appeared on the other man's face, and the eyes that were already at half-mast drooped even farther. "She'd be anyone's type, wouldn't she?"
"Wouldn't say anyone," Renj chuckled, sinking down so he was sitting instead of crouching. He let his legs fan wide, forearms going to rest on his knees once more. "Personally, that look of hers ain't my thing."
"Not your thing?" the Primera questioned immediately. His slate blue eyes found Renji's, and the look on the brunet's face spoke of genuine surprise and confusion. "What don't you like?"
Inked brows creeping over a tanned forehead, Renji couldn't help smirking. He continued to stare into Starrk's eyes, before turning his gaze on the naked woman. "Well, her hair for one thing. I like 'em darker. And those things," he motioned towards her breasts with his hand, "they're too big."
If the ex-Espada looked surprised before, now his expression was truly dumbfounded. "Too big? You're the first guy I've ever heard complain about something like that."
Renji felt a steady burn in his cheeks, but still he managed to retain his grin. "Haven't you ever heard that saying before?" he asked, his auburn gaze smoldering with a wolfish playfulness. "You never want more than a handful."
Starrk really did look perplexed, his thin brows furrowed in apparent thought. Renji would have never guessed that the Primera could be so expressive, and he found himself liking it. The shock in those slate blue eyes was beginning to ebb, though, much to his disappointment. Starrk's features were returning to their previous state of drowsy-looking awareness, inch by inch.
"I've never had a problem with more than a handful," the brunet commented, his brows arched in a matter-of-fact sort of way. Renji felt his own inked brows shoot skyward, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. There were all kinds of implications in that one sentence, and he just couldn't help himself.
"Are you trying to say that you've groped big tits before?"
"Sure, why not?"
Red-brown eyes widened faintly, and Renji couldn't suppress his shit-eating grin. He'd really scored big with this guy. . . The brunet seemed in a league of his own, different from the other Espada Renji had been around. Not only did the "hollow" being have an easy-going disposition, he had a fucking sex drive. Or at least enough of one that he liked looking at dirty magazines and fondling tits. The redhead had to lean closer, his voice dropping an octave as he mumbled, "Who?"
Starrk's brows arched slightly, but his gaze didn't shift as he flipped through the pages slowly. "Who what?"
"Who was the girl?"
At that the other man frowned, so softly that Renji would have missed it if he hadn't been staring. He watched silently as blue-gray eyes slowly rose, then turned towards him. The Primera's stare was surprisingly intense, and Renji suddenly felt frozen, unsure of what was going through Starrk's mind. He didn't know what to say as the brunette stared at him, and then that unreadable gaze drifted, falling on the redhead's neck. Renji watched as steel blue eyes widened faintly, sleek brows pulling together. He was completely baffled by Starrk's sudden silence, and it was starting to make him uncomfortable.
"What?" Renji muttered, leaning back. He tilted his head down, trying to see what it was Starrk was staring at so intently. Of course he couldn't see his own neck, so he just reached up to cover it as he shot the Primera a questioning look.
"It's nothing. Why are you over here? Shouldn't you be with your friends?" Starrk asked, pointing past Renji with his gloved hand. The redhead followed the other man's movement, turning his head to look at the group of Vizard sitting with Hisagi and Ichigo. He stared at the group with a lazy expression that held traces of bitterness. Fucking Ichigo and Hisagi, sitting with the hollow-shinigami like they were one big happy family. Renji's lip curled a little, and he gave a dismissive snort before turning his gaze back to Starrk. When his eyes met slate blue he felt the beginnings of a grin.
"I shouldn't be anywhere if I don't feel like it," he drawled carelessly. "They got boring, so I thought I'd make myself a new friend."
The Primera looked taken aback by that, his delicate brows arching in mild surprise. "Friends with an Espada?"
"Well you're an ex-Espada now, ain'chya? And you looked s'lonely sitting over here all by yourself."
The redhead's tone held a trace of teasing intent, and he quirked an eyebrow at the other man. He thought Starrk looked surprised before, now he looked truly startled. And was that. . .a light flush on his cheekbones? No fucking way! Renji wanted to howl and grin like a madman.
"I'm not an Espada any more because the war's over, but I'll always be an Arrancar," Starrk mumbled softly, his features smoothing. An almost forlorn look overcame the man's sculpted face, so subtle that it was hardly noticeable. His elegant eyes were nothing but calm and compliant, though. Renji's grin softened under the other man's stare, and he swayed a little where he sat, shrugging his shoulders.
"Does that mean we can't be friends 'cause you're still an enemy of mine, Arrancar?" he asked, humor still lacing his words. He offered the Primera a lazy little smile, his brow quirking again. The other man just stared at him, brows furrowed over hardening eyes.
"No. . ."
"You do have a point, y'know," Renji drawled, glancing at Starrk out of the corner of his eye. He grinned slowly and arched both of his tattooed brows. "The Winter War is over, but shinigami will always be against hollows. So I guess you and I are enemies, ne?"
The Primera frowned softly, but his steel blue gaze was seemingly unfazed as he looked away. "I'm not against you. I'd rather go home and sleep than fight any of you shinigami. That kind of stuff was never in my nature."
"Never in your nature?" Renji cocked an eyebrow, his expression conveying that he was unconvinced. "You fought in the war, didn't you? It's hard to imagine that fighting isn't in your nature when you let yourself be a soldier for Aizen."
"That war was such a pain in the ass," Starrk mumbled, closing his eyes as he scratched at the back of his head. "I just wanted to repay my debt."
His inked brow going higher, the redhead stared at the other man questioningly. "What debt?"
Instead of answering Starrk just sighed tiredly and pushed himself to a stand. Renji watched the other man with a soft scowl, agitation building inside him as the Primera started walking away.
"I don't think you'd understand."
"Try me."
The brunet paused, standing in front of Renji's sitting form, but turned to the side so the tattooed shinigami could see his profile. Starrk was long and slender, but Renji had a feeling that there was an underlying strength hidden beneath those clothes. He could see it in the way Starrk's dark pants clung to his muscular thigh.
"All of my friends wasted away just from being around me. Aizen knew others like me, who were strong enough to get close without dying. He gave me a chance to know them too, and that's why I fought for him."
Inked brows shot up, and for a moment the only thing Renji could think to do was stare. Aizen knew people who wouldn't die just from being around Starrk? That's how fucking strong the bastard was? He had to wonder what kind of weaklings the Primera had been around before, because he hadn't died yet under the guy's mere presence, and neither had Hisagi, Ichigo, Urahara, or the Vizard. . .
But that wasn't the thing that really got the redhead. Starrk had said he had friends. Hollows didn't fucking have friends. And there was also the implication that he was. . .lonely? That's why he joined Aizen, so he could be around people who wouldn't die? Friendship and loneliness. . . It wasn't possible for a hollow to feel those things. That's why they were hollows. They didn't have hearts, or human feelings. So why did the Primera display those things in spades? A sex drive, a laid-back demeanor, the capability to feel lonely and have friends. . . It was all too human, and that confused Renji. When he decided he'd study the Primera, he expected another monster like the ones he'd met in Hueco Mundo. He expected another crazy, unfeeling freak like the Octava or the Cero. But instead he came face to face with someone who was seemingly at the opposite end of the spectrum. Starrk was slowly annihilating all of Renji's previous (mis)conceptions, and it made the man all the more captivating.
Just what the fuck are you?
"You seem strong enough to be a friend, shinigami-san."
"A friend who wants to bury you," Renji said slowly, his ink brows furrowed over a calculating gaze. After a moment he let an almost wicked smile curl the corners of his mouth. There was a dangerous glint in his eye as he pushed himself up, using the rock at his back for leverage. He stood at his full height and stared the Espada in the eye.
"Bury me?" the other man mumbled, a look of soft confusion and barely there caution passing over his features.
"In the ground," Renji clarified, grinning wider. "You gotta be strong, Starrk. Once upon a time you were the Primera Espada, and apparently your strength alone made your buddies melt away. You must be a real beast on the battlefield, huh?"
At that Starrk's brows furrowed faintly, and then he heaved a heavy side, scratching at his scalp for the second time. "I told you that I'm not a fighter. I didn't think you were the type for that blood-thirsty sort of thing." The other man paused there, another sigh falling from his full lips. The soft exhalation sounded disheartened, somehow, and his cool gaze seemed to mirror that emotion.
The brunet's words were true, Renji really wasn't the type. Yeah, he liked a good fight; liked getting fucked up every now and then. But he didn't love it to the point that he could be comparable to someone like Zaraki Kenpachi. That being said, the ex-Espada was getting under his skin in such a way that made him itch like he had a rash. Renji had already come to the conclusion that this Arrancar was unlike the rest. He realized that Starrk could be putting on a front-- milking the whole "gentle soul" persona to keep people off his back. But something inside Renji's heart told him that wasn't the case. Something told him that Starrk was genuine.
Now that he knew the brunet was capable of things that he really shouldn't be. . . Well, it had Renji wanting to unearth even more. He had an almost unbearable desire to discover everything from the inside out. One of the first things on his list was Starrk's strength. Aizen hadn't made the brunet one of his top Espada for nothing. The man had to be powerful as fuck, and for whatever reason he wasn't showcasing it. Was he scared, or was it really just "not in his nature" like he so-claimed?
Renji knew that he'd have to go about it carefully. He didn't want to lure the hollow in Starrk to the surface; that would only make the ex-Espada like all the rest, and essentially kill the redhead's interest. . . Really, the only thing he wanted was to witness Starrk's infamous strength. He wanted to know how powerful the brunet really was, because fuck, he was the goddamn Primera. The strength of his presence alone had been enough to kill other hollows, or so it was said. And to think that someone who was so calm and seemingly uninterested could possess an incredible amount of power. . . How could Renji not want to feel it for himself? It had to be hiding under the Primera's impartial exterior, like a bear in hibernation.
And the sleeping bear has razor sharp teeth and claws, doesn't he? Made for ripping flesh and crushing bone when the time calls for it. . .
As if seeing the legend come to life wasn't enough, Renji had one more reason. To see that cool, unfazed attitude crack, shaken by the intensity of battle. To see those tired eyes burning with power, and that lean, sluggish body thrumming with the need to protect itself from death.
"You'd be disappointed if we ever came to blows."
Starrk said that as if he'd been able to read Renji's thoughts. The redhead blinked once to gather himself, regrouping in reality so he wouldn't get lost inside his own mind.
"Would I? I think that you must be capable of doin' some serious damage," he drawled, stepping closer to Starrk. His large hands were held casually inside the pockets of his hakama, and he jerked his head sideways, cocking an eyebrow. "You're just too lazy ta make the kill, ain'chya? No one's grabbed you by the balls hard enough to get you motivated the way you need to be."
The Primera just frowned, his dark lashes drooping so low that his eyes were almost closed. Then he simply shook his head and sighed softly. "What a pain. You're not gonna let me off the hook, are you? And here I thought I could finally relax. The war's over; can't you relax too?"
Looking up, Starrk fixed the redhead with a tired stare. And the next thing Renji knew the other man was shoving the porno mag against his broad chest.
"Here. Look at that and take care of yourself. Put all that aggression to something useful, shinigami-san. Maybe then you'll be too worn out to pick a fight."
Starrk let the magazine go and Renji's hand was forced from his pocket, shooting up to catch the reading material so it wouldn't fall. The brunet started walking away, and Renji watched him with a lopsided grin. "I told you my name was Abarai Renji!" he shouted after the Primera. "So quit with the 'shinigami-san' shit!"
The other man didn't turn back, just waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder. Renji chuckled to himself, his attentive gaze on Starrk's back. The ex-Espada strolled over to the group of nine, and the silver-haired Vizard (who was sitting cross-legged on the ground), held a plate in the air. Starrk swiped some of the proffered food as he walked by, and if the two men exchanged words Renji didn't catch them. The redhead continued to watch the Primera as he walked up the stairs that lead to the warehouse above, and only when the man was out of sight did Renji let himself look away.
Snorting softly, the red-haired vice-captain turned his attention on the magazine in his hand. It was open to a page of a raven-haired girl with pale skin, and at that his inked brows shot skyward. So Starrk had been paying attention when the redhead said he liked 'em darker? Well shit, fuck me sideways. . . Renji actually felt touched. The former Espada had taken the time to find a girl who'd appeal to him, and that was. . .unexpectedly thoughtful. What was that he determined earlier, about all-too-human behavior? The Primera was like no other "hollow," Renji was sure of that. . .
With a throaty laugh he licked two of his fingers, then pinched the page between each calloused digit, ready to rip it out. And that's when he felt the kick to the back of his head, forcing a stunned squawk from his mouth.
"I don't remember giving that to you. If you want one, then have the guts to ask for it yourself. Until then piss off."
Renji's head spun around, his eyes already narrowed as he sought his offender. Standing on the rock where he and Starrk had been sitting, was the bespectacled Vizard he knew to be Lisa. She perched there with her arms crossed over her chest, a no-bullshit look on her face. With the height difference between them, he could almost see up her skirt. . . And what a skirt it was-- made of a dark material that was pleated and short. That was one schoolgirl who was very not innocent. He knew that for damn sure. Or maybe he'd just come to that conclusion because now he knew what she was looking at all fucking day?
Nope. An outfit like that (and on a girl who looked like that) was always debauched, porn or not.
Grinning slowly, the sixth division lieutenant turned around so he was facing Lisa fully. He closed the magazine neatly, his gaze heavy-lidded as he handed the perverted property over.
"You're a real freak, ain'chya?"
The dark-haired Vizard stared at him with incredibly green-blue, obstinate eyes. "It's called having a healthy interest," she said, jumping off the rock so she was standing beside him. She swiped the magazine from his hand, then turned away to walk back towards the group of nine. "The real freaks are the ones who try hiding it."
"Is that so?" Renji challenged, his dark brow arching. The woman didn't acknowledge him as he walked beside her; didn't even glance in his direction. He narrowed his vermilion eyes as he scowled at her head. And that's when realization dawned on him, and he found his eyebrow cocking again.
"Hey, just how long were you standing on that rock?
"Long enough to know that dark hair gets you off."
"You were eavesdroppin'?!"
"Shut up, so what if I was?" Lisa demanded, incredibly straight-faced. "It's natural to be curious."
"Most people call that being nosy," Renji corrected.
"And I call a shinigami bugging me a suicide by proxy. Now piss off."
Glaring harder, the redhead considered ripping that magazine away from Lisa's grasp and taking off. He considered finding her entire collection and stealing those, too. Trying to fight her was another option, but not as satisfying. He liked the idea of making her suffer for longer than just five minutes, and he had the feeling that denying the Vizard her dirty kicks would be the fastest route there.
But all plots were forgotten when he heard someone calling his name. Irritated, he glared at Ichigo, who was standing with arms crossed, a scowl of his own marring his orange brows. Renji felt his expression soften, his gaze questioning as he stared at his friend. Ichigo didn't say anything, just jerked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing towards the staircase.
Guess that means we're leaving.
Sighing inwardly, Renji looked at Lisa one final time. "Your hospitality continues to amaze me," he said, a sarcastically pleasant smile on face. The teal-eyed woman stared at him, the corner of her mouth lifting to form a smirk. The gesture was just as bitingly sardonic.
"You've only seen the tip of the iceberg. If it's too much for you already, you should save yourself another soiled diaper and run back home. Shinigami belong in Soul Society. You have no business being here."
The redhead actually chuckled, weirdly amused by her abrasiveness. Not to mention that there seemed to be something in her tone, or in the way that her mouth quirked, that told him her words weren't as harsh as they sounded. Was it just wishful thinking, or were the Vizard starting to warm up to him?
Not bothering with a response, Renji just waved the woman off and sauntered over to Ichigo. It wasn't all that surprising when Hisagi told them that he was going to stay longer, which had the tattooed vice-captain squinting. The fucking bastard; what had gotten into him? Renji made a mental note of berating the guy later, or at least interrogating him. He wanted to know how Hisagi's reunion had gone, dammit! It must have been good if he wanted to keep hanging around. . . But Ichigo was being impatient, and Renji had better things to consider, so the two of them left without a second thought for the shady, ninth division captain.
Chapter Two →