#{ not me making it look like if he caught Kisuke in the middle of some shady business }

[tenshusuto]

⅋⅋ㅤ𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 ; ㅤ( always accepting) @kakimushire : It costs him a lot. Actually so much so that he's been contemplating for three days whether he should say it or not. In the end, he decides that it's best to just get it out of the way so that he can focus on other things. "Happy birthday." He has no gift for him, even though Urahara's birthday is the only birthday he always remembers. Urahara is also one of the only people whose birth Mayuri is actually thankful for. He knows he's days too late with saying it but, he doesn't think the other will mind that.

ㅤTheory of plausibility that Mayuri feigns numerological unawareness was a notch far-fetching than admissible. Any gift he would receive wasn't as sacrificing as the gesture and fact that in his conduct and spare time Kurotsuchi personally ( if we omit Mayuri was the one who caught Kisuke on the upper floor in one of Seireitei's outlying markets suspiciously close to Rukon borders and even more suspiciously in - reiatsu concealing cloak ) step into his sphere of activity to congratulate Kisuke with something so mundane and humdrum like his day of birth.

ㅤIn the sunset of dissolution, fragments of life are illuminated by the aura of nostalgia. Happy Birthday - conjured a prolonged stare, taking him decades back to the brazen, old days each without framed by a halo of spun flax where they used to talk on a daily basis. Until mercurial eyes snap from introspecting vision with a slow, now presently breezy squint of apparent surprise. The upper part of his cannily arranged self pivots slightly in poise at the Captain with a reticent smile. ㅤWith shift in the air, he couldn't help but suspect that those words held one more meaning, something like: caught you. Outlined voice tucks back in deny a lilt of his nature's eloquence, whereas invisible syllables ghostly mumble somewhere in the emptiness of interword gaps.

ㅤAn impressive range of displays considering the Year only started. True was he did not expect anything nor minded delay - they would reach conformity point in that one.

It was the barest of congratulations, but it was a congratulation nonetheless. Still, Kisuke's uttering - intent on politely carrying the message of his appreciation.

ㅤ'' Quite belated but thank you, Mayuri-san, '' micro gesture of his hand reaches the front of the cloak's brim in adjusting lift and a few habitual scratches across forehead bangs, '' what a coincidence to see you here. Are you also a fan of shopaholism at dusk? ''

[shuhey-hisagi]

Espada request! Have any general and relationship hcs for Grimmjow?

Grimmjow was my biggest crush in middle school lol

General headcanons:

Okay, so Grimmjow was a panther-esque hollow before he became an espada, so I heavily believe he displays a number of panther-like behaviors. (Though, I do love the cat headcanons for him- they are so funny). So, going off this...

Grimmjow has a booming voice. He’s not necessarily loud, though he can be if needed. His voice can carry through and be heard from great distances. It’s extremely powerful and brings anyone in its vicinity to alertness. If anyone didn’t know, panthers usually use their vocals to maintain their home ranges and ensure their solitude. Grimmjow will be a little shit and use this vocal power to keep others from approaching him. 

Despite his powerful voice, Grimmjow is quite a stealthy individual. He’s silently prowling about at all times, and unless he wants his presence to be known, it will stay that way. He has a light tread and normally just goes about his business for hours before anyone has the chance to notice. He’s not extremely aware of this, and has been caught by surprise when others display mass shock when he lets himself be known. 

He values his solitude. He doesn’t need to be around others unless he is close to them. His Fracción are a good example of this. Though Grimmjow prefers to be alone, he thought of them as members of his family or pack when he was an adjuchas. To this point, he didn’t complain about their presence unless they were particularly annoying him. 

Going off the previous point, Grimmjow harbors powerful feelings of protectiveness for his Fracción and any other person he deems important to him. He expects these people to hold their own and not need his protection at all times, but if there are. threats, he is naturally inclined to straighten himself and become an obvious obstacle for said threat. 

Climbing trees and scaling walls is a secret habit of his for when he’s restless. He sees a climbable surface and is obligated to go see if he can get to the top. He will leave in the middle of conversations just to climb a tower. He also likes to isolate himself in these areas, especially since they are hard to get access for others. 

He breaks his nails often when he’s not using his hierro. It’s a bad habit of his to be more intense than necessary at times and it comes at the cost of ripping off his poor nails from the bone. He can be found with bandages around his fingers a lot of the time.

Though he might not seem it, Grimmjow can make use of his brain when he wants to. It’s useful when he wants to solve a puzzle someone gave him from the world of the living or for determining the amount of time and effort it would take to scale a particular building. 

He talks so much when he’s tired and near someone who will listen. Ask him a question, and he’ll go on forever about his opinions. His thought process is muddled and he makes connections where others wouldn’t, so it’s always interesting to hear what he has to say. The more tired he is, the more convoluted his reasoning becomes.

When visiting the World of the Living, he often stays with Kisuke just as a formality, since the latter wishes to learn more about Grimmjow’s constitution. Grimmjow does loiter around the Kurosaki residence in hopes of fighting Ichigo, but this backfires when Ichigo starts inviting him in and slowly conditions a friendship (though, Grimmjow will never call it so). 

Relationship headcanons:

Let me preface this by saying It’s both difficult to get his attention but pretty easy to get his attention. Grimmjow is someone who is guarded and won’t allow just anyone to et close to him. 

It goes without saying that he is attracted to people who display immense strength, mental and physical. He can’t stand people that act meek and helpless. To him, that’s a sign of weakness and lack of will to survive. He needs someone who can put up a fight while also putting him in his place. His instinct from his time as a lesser hollow and even now as an Espada tend to drive this feeling. 

One also needs to consider that Grimmjow is simply an asshole who will do a lot just to make someone’s life hell. He doesn’t take others’ feelings seriously unless he is particularly invested in them and wants to gain something from them. 

It takes him a long time to decide he wants to be with someone mostly because as an Espada there wasn’t much in way of relationships. Yes, some did become close with others and have intimate relationships, but Grimmjow was not one of them. He’s aware of the practices, but it never felt organic to him. 

To get his attention, one would have to work quite little but have a lot of confidence to execute the actions that would be notable for him. Petting the back of his head when he does something right, making sure to greet him when he’s part of a gathering and secluding himself, and making active attempts to check in with him are all small but important ways of standing out to him. 

The first time you pet his hair, he twists back with the most angry expression and is ready to knock you away. However, once he realizes there’s no threat, he’s like a deer in headlights wondering why you would mess with his hair.

He looks forward to you visiting Kisuke’s shop so that you can say hi to him and ask him what he’s been doing. He usually won’t answer with more than two phrases, but it’s nice for someone to ask him. 

Grimmjow does have a tendency to offer you gifts. Usually the severed hands of your enemies, but it’s something.

I’m kidding.

Mostly.

But he does enjoy bringing you trinkets, such as jewelry or a safety charm he found. He’s not the best with gifts, and usually relies on just bringing you food or practical items. For example, if you ever need a pen, he’s carrying one on him at all times. He’s kind of like a cat in this regard- just bringing you whatever he deems a worthy offering.

Any shows of affection cause him to freeze in the beginning. He can’t remember if he experienced it back when he was a human, and there was no way he experienced it during his time after. He’s relearning affection, which is an interesting journey. 

To that point, he rests his head near you when he wants you to play with his hair. He’ll lay on your shoulder when you work just to be near you. He often has a hard time gauging how much force to put into a hug, so he’ll hold you too tight, but the happiness from him making the first move almost makes it okay. He also moves in to quickly for kisses, leading to smashing your foreheads and noses together, and in more awkward cases, bashing your teeth against each other. 

He’s trying

Grimmjow is casual about showing his possession over you near others. He doesn’t make a point of it to be affectionate around them, but if he hasn’t seen you in a while and you show up, he’s more than willing to dip you and deeply kiss you before moving on with his day. He likes when he holds your hand and put it in his jacket pocket when walking. 

He’s pretty playful and enjoys wrestling in bed. If he can tickle you while holding you down, he’s going to do so. It goes back to his nature as a hollow- he’s just a little mischievous even if he won’t admit it. Feeling you under him and seeing you laugh while trying to escape is extremely exciting for him. He might even chuckle a few times himself, and not in his usual maniacal manner.

He’s not the best communicator, and it falls on you to figure out why he’s in a mood if he even shows a sign of being upset. Usually he will isolate himself, but since you two are close, he’s naturally inclined to express his mood. He can snap at you and express himself harshly, which can be an obstacle in your relationship. 

Grimmjow isn’t a mean partner. In fact, he’s pretty accommodating and lets you do things at your own pace as long as you respect his need for space and unwillingness to share his every thought. 

He likes making sure you’re safe. He likes teasing you to the point where you attempt to strangle him. He likes that he’s feelings something other than a need to fight someone and cause problems. 

[akaluan]

Erich/Kisuke/Alexis: Soulmate AU + Character in Peril Part 19

((Warning for violence and POV char major injury at the end, but I promise everyone we care about is still alive))

Erich wakes abruptly, hand going immediately to his pistol, and listens—

“Morning, sir,” Degurechaff greets him as she stalks closer, her spiritual presence prickly with exhaustion-annoyance-exasperation as she comes to a stop a bare foot from his head. “I have the troops breaking camp already after a cold breakfast. Here’s yours. Major Schwarz will be along in a moment with theirs.”

Erich grunts and forces himself up, shaking off both Alexis’ and Urahara’s arms in the process and pointedly not thinking about… about anything related to how he was being held. By a Shinigami.

(Not now.)

(Not yet.)

He fumbles for his glasses with one hand while scrubbing the grit from his eyes with the other, then accepts the two mugs from Degurechaff and squints into them. “Trying to poison me, Degurechaff?” he asks dryly as he takes a drink of the lukewarm not-coffee that she’s presented to him, then blinks and frowns into the mug. “I still have no idea how Serebryakov does it, but this isn’t half bad.”

Degurechaff shrugs and says, “I’ve given up trying to figure it out and just enjoy the result.” She takes a step back and settles, arms behind her back and her gaze drifting between the three of them for a moment before she finally seems to make a decision. “Last night was peaceful,” she starts to report. “Watchmen say they didn’t hear or see anything of note, and the couple of scouts I sent out this morning haven’t found any tracks beyond what little of our own were missed in the dark. I sent a team out to erase what evidence they could, and to follow us to continue doing so as we move.”

“Thank you, Colonel,” Erich says, mind already turning over plans for the day as he downs the barely appetizing food in the second mug and washes it down with the better-than-usual ersatz coffee.

(Real food is definitely on the list of things he’s looking forward to.)

Schwarz nods a greeting as he approaches them, four mugs held carefully in his hands, and passes them over to both Alexis and Urahara. “Sorry about the food,” he apologizes as Alexis gives the mugs a dubious look. “Not really much I can do about it, ma’am.”

“It’s fine,” she says with a shrug, then quickly downs what he gave her, grimacing at the taste. “Not much you can honestly do about it out here.”

Urahara just wrinkles his nose and stares at the food in disbelief, then casts a sidelong look at Erich and asks, “You’ve been living on this?”

“What other choice do I have?” Erich asks in amusement, then nods at the forest around them and says, “Armies make animals run. We do what we have to.”

Degurechaff makes a slightly amused sound and adds, “Can you imagine any of us trying to hunt for our own food? That lot wouldn’t survive a day if that was a requirement.” She watches him a moment longer, waiting for Urahara to make a move, before huffing in exasperation and saying, “You’ll get used to it after a while. Now eat your food so we can all get moving again.”

Urahara gives her a flat stare at that, then reluctantly lifts the mug to his lips and takes a sip, face scrunching up in disgust. “This is terrible,” he mutters, before tipping it back and quickly swallowing the whole thing. “Yuck,” he declares in Imperial as he hands the mug back to Schwarz, much to the man’s clear amusement.

“Going to drink your coffee?” Erich asks with a tiny smirk, indicating the second mug that Urahara had been handed.

“No,” Urahara declares after giving it a sniff, then offers it to Erich. “You have.”

“You can have it,” Erich repeats absently as he accepts the mug with a shrug. “Thanks.”

“I don’t blame him in the slightest,” Alexis grumbles as she finishes off hers, hands it back, then rises to her feet and begins to pack away the bedroll she’d been using. “I haven’t had real coffee in forever, but this stuff is positively vile.”

Erich snorts and mumbles, “This is better than usual,” before he drains Urahara’s mug without a second’s hesitation; it might not actually have the benefits of real coffee, but he can usually manage to trick himself into thinking it does if he downs enough of it.

(Sometimes, that’s the only thing keeping him going.)

(That and pure stubbornness.)

With a sigh he pushes himself to his feet, hands the mugs back to Schwarz, and sets about helping Alexis clear their little campsite up. There’s no way they can hide that a large group camped in the area, but the more they can muddle the signs the better.

“Let’s get moving,” Erich orders as soon as the area is put back to rights. He pulls on his pack, shoulders his rifle, settles Benihime at his waist, and steps over to Degurechaff as he waits for Alexis and Urahara to finish getting ready as well. “You will let me help you,” he says to Urahara as the man gets closer.

Urahara huffs but nods slightly. “So long as it doesn’t stress you.”

Degurechaff looks between them with narrowed eyes, then scowls when Erich gives a small shake of his head; still, she at least stops looking like she wants to question both of them. “Ready to go, sir?”

“Yes. Let’s get moving before we burn any more daylight,” Erich says, glancing up at the thick canopy overhead; there’s only barely enough light to see by at the moment, but it’s getting lighter with every minute that passes.

Time is wasting.

***

They set out, marching through the forest at a steady, ground-eating pace for the second day in a row.

(This time, he won’t let Urahara exhaust himself.)

(This time he’ll actually pay attention.)

(He swears it.)

For as tiring as the march is, it’s also boring, especially the longer they go without any indication of pursuit. There’s nothing but trees all around them, gigantic trunks rising up into a vast canopy that shades them from the sky, with only the occasional beam of sunlight to indicate that the sun is still out. And the more they march, the more it all stays the same: trees and trees and yet more trees, occasionally broken by rocky areas they need to circle around.

Each time they stop to rest, Erich settles beside Alexis and Urahara and uses the chance to center himself and help Urahara refill his reserves; it’s obvious that even with his help the man is beginning to flag — truthfully, even Alexis is beginning to flag — and that’s… he can’t do anything about that, no matter how much he might wish to.

(Marching is not a skill that anyone but an army needs.)

(And these two have never needed those skills before.)

(It’s only because of their inner strength that they’ve kept up so far.)

There’s little he needs to personally see to in the middle of a march — Degurechaff and Schwarz are some of the best officers a General could wish for — which unfortunately means that he has plenty of time to stew in his worries.

With every kilometer they cross, they come closer to Rerugen lands — to Quincy lands — and to the confrontation that he just knows is going to happen. The border guards won’t dare to confront them, not an entire Living World army marching directly at them, but they will send word ahead. Word that will mean that there will be a ‘welcoming’ party waiting for them. Word that will mean everyone on high alert.

(Word that will mean a confrontation as soon as they spot Urahara.)

(He’s leading danger right to their doorstep.)

(Not just the Republic’s army, but a Reaper as well—!)

A stir in the line drags Erich’s thoughts from their circling, and he quickly brings a hand up to signal a halt.

(Have they been spotted?)

(Have they been caught?!)

Degurechaff leaves her men and hurries to his side, her gaze hard as she glances back. “This doesn’t bode well,” she murmurs as soon as she draws even with him.

“Everything was going a bit too well, wasn’t it?” Erich can’t help but ask, before wincing internally at how exhausted he sounds.

Degurechaff huffs in agreement, and Erich fights back a grimace at the way Alexis and Urahara give them concerned looks and then exchange worried glances; while it’s nice that his two soulmates are agreeing on something, he really wishes it was anything but concern for him.

(He’s fine.)

(He doesn’t need their concern.)

(He just… he just needs some time to rest is all.)

A scout hurries towards them with Schwarz at his side, his mouth a thin slash and his presence bleeding concern-worry-despair into the air. “There’s a hamlet burning just to the north of us,” he reports as soon as he reaches Erich and Degurechaff. “My team didn’t spot whoever did it, but it looks recent.”

Degurechaff grimaces and looks up at him. “We should check it out, sir. If it’s the Republic…”

“Then they’re closer than we anticipated,” Erich agrees, then casts a glance at his exhausted men. He’d prefer to do anything but confront the Republic so close to Rerugen lands — so close to safety — but they can’t just leave it to chance. There’s also the possibility that it’s a feint meant to draw his men out into the open, but…

He can’t just leave it be.

“Colonel Degurechaff, gather a squad of your men and meet me back here in ten. We’re going to investigate,” Erich decides, then fixes Schwarz with a look when the man stiffens in realization. “Get me a small squad that’s up for a swift sweep of the area.”

“Sir,” Schwarz grits out, a wealth of meaning in the single word.

“You and Major Weiss will be in command here,” Erich says before Schawrz can protest further. “Be ready to get the men moving, but don’t waste your time trying for a rescue if things go wrong and we’re outnumbered.”

Schwarz’s lips thin, but he nods and turns away, striding down the line with his shoulders straight and his back stiff.

“Erich—”

Erich holds up a hand, cutting off Alexis’ attempt to speak, and says, “No. I need to see to this. If something happens, get the men settled in Rerugen lands and then send some of our people out—”

“I’m going with you,” Urahara declares firmly, something dark-stubborn-vicious about him that sends a shiver down Erich’s spine. “You are not my superior,” Urahara adds before Erich can try to reason with him. “And I don’t have anything else to do. You and Degurechaff-san are the only two who speak my language.” He pauses, hesitates a moment, then bows his head and whispers, “Please, I just found you. Don’t… don’t make me stand aside while you throw yourself into danger.”

Erich swallows, mind whirling as he tries to come up with something, anything, to get Urahara to stay behind, but— but he can’t. Not in the face of Urahara’s obvious distress. Not when he knows how capable Urahara is—

“You will stay at his side at all times,” Degurechaff orders, making Erich twitch at the suddenness of her arrival. “If you come with us, you will do everything in your power to keep General Rerugen safe. Understand?”

“Yes, of course,” Urahara answers as he straightens up and squares his shoulders. “I won’t let anything happen to him, I swear.”

Erich grits his teeth and spits, “I do not need watching,” before turns away and takes a breath, trying to pull his fury under control; he knows what Degurechaff is doing and he even understands it — if it was one of his superiors declaring they were going into a hostile situation with only a small squad, he’d leverage their soulmate’s presence as well — but that doesn’t mean he likes it.

(He doesn’t need to be babysat!)

Luckily, he can see Schwarz returning with the squad he requested, which means he can just… ignore the whole thing — especially Urahara’s watchful-wary-uncertain expression — and move on.

(Urahara will follow him no matter what.)

(Better to just save his energy for a fight he can win.)

Erich shrugs off his pack and hands it to Schwarz as the man reaches them, then hesitates, hand over Benihime’s hilt, and slowly forces himself to release the blade from his side. “Since I can’t make you stay behind,” Erich murmurs as he offers the blade back to Urahara.

“Thank you,” Urahara whispers, voice choked with something that Erich doesn’t want to understand, doesn’t want to face, because— because no one should be so damn thankful to be handed back their own weapon before heading into danger.

So instead of acknowledging it, he turns away. Shoves his tangled sorrow-frustration-fury deep into his soul and buries it beneath his mission mindset.

(If he ever meets the people who engraved such lessons into his soulmate’s mind—)

(Well, it certainly won’t be a very polite meeting.)

“Lead the way,” Erich orders the scout as he gestures sharply for Degurechaff and the others to fall in.

“Yes, sir,” the scout replies with a quick, sloppy salute, then turns and heads off into the forest.

Erich follows the scout through the trees, trying to place exactly where they are on his mental map; it is a bit further into Imperial territory than he expected the Republic to have already ventured, but if it’s a squad of mages…

(No.)

(Don’t assume.)

Urahara stays at Erich’s side as they hurry on, the connection between them humming with resolve-focus-determination as they fall into harmony, both of them preparing for a fight at the end of the march.

(Maybe this wasn’t a mistake.)

(Maybe they’ll be able to win.)

The scout waves them to a stop and gestures Erich forward: they’ve reached a small break in the trees, leading down into a shallow valley, and the air is thick with the scent of smoke.

Erich scans the area with a frown, disturbed by the lack of visible enemies, though there does seem to be some movement down in the hamlet itself. “Anything?” he asks Degurechaff as she joins him.

“Nothing,” she confirms with a scowl. “I don’t sense any magic emanation, either. If the Republic is here, they’re hiding in the village itself.”

“I don’t like this,” Urahara murmurs as he steps a bit closer to Erich’s side, body loose and prepared for combat. “It’s sloppy,” he adds as he tips his chin towards one edge of the village, where only a few scattered houses are on fire. “I’ve seen how your people work, and if your enemies act similarly, this seems…”

“This is someone looting,” Degurechaff breathes in horrified realization, then spins back towards their squads and barks, “Senses sharp and weapons up! This isn’t the Republic, this is—”

Degurechaff yelps as Urahara darts in and shoves, sending her toppling to the ground, and Erich stiffens. Draws his pistol and turns—

Bark explodes from the tree behind Degurechaff. A gunshot cracks. Voices rise from the trees to their left, figures in familiar uniform darting towards them—

“Shit,” Degurechaff spits, scrambling to her feet. “Go, go, go! Ignore their uniforms and fight!”

Urahara launches himself forward, blade drawn and expression grim, and takes out a fake Imperial soldier with a single blow.

Erich ducks behind a tree. Levels his pistol and cracks off a shot. Switches aim to another. Fires again. Switches. Fires. Again. Again. Ducks away to another tree, mind blank and hands steady and aim focused. Cracks off another shot. Another. Reloads and darts a look—

The enemy is charging them. Knives and bayonets and blades and everything but guns but that makes no sense, why would they charge, why not keep firing, why give up their advantage—

His soldiers are good. Degurechaff is good. Urahara is good. Charging makes no sense—

“Bastard!” a voice to his left spits. “Officer over here! Take him down!”

Erich jerks his attention towards the newcomer. Swings himself around, pistol firing, but it’s too late, the man is too close, face contorted in fury and knife poised and Erich twists aside, praying it’s enough, praying he can escape—

Pain!

He stumbles, pistol falling from nerveless hands as the man staggers against his side and then collapses, the knife skittering across his ribs and then down, a line of vicious ice that ends when it jars against his hip and tumbles free.

He staggers back. Presses a hand to his side. Swallows a cry as ice becomes fire, wild-furious-consuming, and tries to think, tries to gather himself—

Strong-warm-steady hands grasp him. Tug him against a broad chest. Words in his ear that he can’t parse, should be able to, can’t—

Power crashes down, hate-rage-fury, and it’s like drowning, air stripped from his lungs and body unresponsive and darkness with no light, no direction, no hope— he scrabbles for air, for freedom, claws at whatever has him, every motion like wading through magma but he needs to escape, needs to get away, to get safe—

More words in his ear. A hand against his chest. Power sinking beneath his skin.

It’s cold. Cold enough to burn, cold enough to freeze, except it feels good. Feels safe. Feels like trust-home-loyalty.

Feels like a promise.

Erich slumps. Gasps for breath.

Surrenders.

[cate-deriana]

Synchronicity

So, here is my first contribution to IRmonth20. It may be a little messy and all over the place but I wanted to get this headcanon idea out :D So yeah, enjoy!

Prompt #4 - crossing blades, crossing hearts

----------------------------

It had been two days – although it had more felt like ages – since their arrival in the Royal Realm. Apart from strange meetings with even stranger residents, well zero squad members if you wanted to be precise, nothing really noteworthy had occurred… until that morning.

“So starting today the two of you will be training together.” Ichibei threw at them without further explanation.

It took a few seconds to sink in, before Ichigo tilted his head with a raised eyebrow looking at the so-called ‘leader’ of this squad with a questioning expression: “Sorry… what?”

“Are we playing deaf, Kurosaki Ichigo? The final battle is just around the corner, we don’t have time for this. You and Kuchiki will be training together. You have chemistry, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Ichigo peeked over to Rukia standing next to him from the corner of an eye, then back to Ichibei: “I am fine with that. But Rukia had barely two days to recover, she nearly died and you want her to start training again today?”

Now the zero squad leader was the one to raise an eyebrow – a rare sight: “Well, do you want to win the war or do you want us all to die?”

The orange haired shinigami’s expression darkened but his eyes glared with determination: “I want to win, of course. But…” He tried to object again but was cut off by Rukia: “Stop insulting my abilities! I am able to decide if I’m ready to train again for myself.”

She had turned to face him visibly angered.

He did the same trying to cool down his temper. Otherwise things would get out of hand rather quickly: “This is not about your abilities it’s…”

“Stop protecting me!” She shot at him.

Screw his temper.

“Oh, sorry I thought that was the deal: I am protecting you and you are protecting me that’s how it works!”

The argument went on while Ichibei was watching them slightly shaking his head: “Yeah, you two have good chemistry. Hopefully that’ll save us all.”

----------------------------

“So, that’s the training ground you’ll be using. Quarters are over there and behind that you’ll find one of those hot springs to heal your wounds and recover. You’ll be training together, eating together, sleeping together. … And with sleeping together I don’t mean sleeping with each other. That’s not what you have to do – unless you want to of course, I’ve heard there was some unresolved tension. I’ll come to check on you once in a while. Any questions? No? Then I’ll see you around.”

  ----------------------------

That was what Ichibei had said before leaving them, alone. About three or four days had passed since. They had been training constantly for something the squad leader had called ‘reiatsu syncing’. Seemingly the zero division and some other questionable ex-shinigami, namely Urahara Kisuke, believed there was a possibility to defeat the ‘future foreseeing’ Juhabach with some telepathic ability that would make it impossible for him to take a look in said future because he would not be able to foresee what he could not see. Why they believed Juhabach was even able to see the future was beyond Ichigo. As far as he knew he wasn’t, maybe they knew more than him. But that wasn’t the point.

They of course were all convinced that only Rukia and him would be able to gain this telepathy ‘reiatsu syncing’ ability. The reason? Well, apparently it was because they had more than once shared the same reiatsu before. He wasn’t sure if he should really believe them and their far-fetched theories. Just because Rukia had transferred her powers to him twice didn’t necessarily conclude in them being able to communicate without words. Ok, maybe there had been moments when he had been sure to know exactly what she was thinking but… that was not the same as talking through mere thoughts, was it?

“When will you finally stop holding back, Ichigo?”

Rukia’s scolding voice brought him back to reality. They were in the middle of training, no miraculous telepathic conversation had occurred yet.

“I am not holding back.” He sounded as if he had to convince himself as well.

“Yes you are. I know how strong you really are so stop holding back and come at me with full force. Where is the point in training if you can’t even do that?” Her voice wasn’t angered although she hated him for going easy on her, for underestimating her out of fear she might get hurt.

“If I come at you with full force I might kill you.” Ichigo stated dryly.

She crossed her arms, her tone a little scolding: “I don’t want you to kill me I want you to start fighting seriously. I am not that weak you know?” Rukia let out a sigh putting Sode no Shirayuki down. “I guess we should have started with those stupid training swords. That way you wouldn’t have to be afraid of accidentally cutting me in half.” The irony in her voice was evident. “Though I have at least learned how to properly wield a sword. I should be the one at advantage here not someone who thought he could just chop a Menos into tiny little pieces to reach its top.” She shook her head disbelieving adding a mumbled “Stupid” to her rant.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t have the privilege to go to Shino Academy just to drop out midway cause I have a wealthy brother.” Ichigo tried to counterattack with his equally sarcastic remark.

Rukia’s eyes darkened: “You know what? Renji wouldn’t hold back.” Her reiatsu rose to a dangerous level. “Because he acknowledges me as a warrior.”

Ichigo’s expression changed in an instant after hearing the red head’s name from her mouth, he was in fighting mode and mood obviously: “You want me to go all out, yeah?” He didn’t wait for an answer his hand already on the arm holding his sword.

“Ban-kai!”

Rukia watched his transformation with a content smile as he was engulfed in black: “Now we’re talking.”

Maybe she should have given him a moment, given them a moment but one she didn’t want to get into another argument with him again and two she couldn’t keep it to herself any longer. “Bankai.” It echoed in the air before the training ground was covered with a thin ice layer, the temperature gradually dropping.

Ichigo didn’t have any time to comprehend what happened when her sword suddenly clashed with his really close to his face. He didn’t see her attack coming at all, because… well…

“Y…you have achieved bankai?” The shinigami substitute managed to get out, their zanpakutous frozen in place. The superior smile on her lips widened: “Surprised?”

His eyes travelled down and up again examining her new form. A somewhat inappropriate thought crossed his mind. He tried to shake it off: “Well… uhm…” If he wasn’t in the middle of a fight he would’ve scratched the back of his head in an awkward situation like that.

“I thought you were a lot faster than this.” Her voice brought him back to reality.

“Huh?”

“Your bankai.” She clarified for him. Something in her eyes left no doubt that she was seriously challenging him and something inside him couldn’t resist that.

He gave her a provoking look: “I’m just getting started.” Ichigo pushed her away with his sword.

“Finally.” Her smile didn’t fade.

The battlefield’s atmosphere changed, black and white flashes being the only thing that could still be seen. They were not really fighting against each other but rather fighting alongside, equally, synching their steps, their moves as if they were dancing. They were paying attention to each other but at the same time pushing each other to their limits. It would have probably continued like that a lot longer if Ichigo didn’t skip a step of their choreography for – payback time you could say.

Rukia found zangetsu only inches away from her throat, Ichigo’s body pressed against hers from behind.

“I got you.” His breath was touching her cheek.

Sode no Shirayuki was uselessly dangling in her right hand. She could have probably stabbed his foot, but… Rukia didn’t want to admit defeat, not yet, not now and certainly not in this position. That… was definitely too close and too… She paused – that could work.

Ichigo was damn sure she wouldn’t be able to escape him that easily. I thought you were a lot faster, huh? Of course he was he’d made that more than clear now. His pride would crumble only moments later.

She turned her head to him: “Don’t be so sure.”

Before he could realize what she was up to a sharp pain shot through his left leg causing him to drop his sword. It felt as if it had been frozen… Oh, that’s what she had done. He sighed trying to keep his balance but the leg gave away.

Rukia was about to declare her victory when Ichigo grabbed her wrist in the last possible moment pulling her down with him. If she didn’t let go of her sword she would have probably pierced his chest with it – again. Without it, it was only her unarmed-self landing on top of him. She propped herself up, one hand on the ground the other on his chest, furiously glaring at Ichigo: “What are you doing?!”

“What are you doing?! You just froze my leg!”

Wouldn’t it have been for their newly found argument she would’ve noticed a lot sooner that the position they were in now was a lot more indecent than the one before.

Instead of counter arguing Rukia looked to the side mumbling her retort rather to herself: “You didn’t leave me with another option…” Her eyes wandered around as if she was searching for the next thing to say, her right hand subconsciously travelling over his chest.

She wanted to put the blame on him alone for this but had to admit that it was at least halfway her fault as well. Then again if he didn’t have to prove his abilities then… her eyes caught her hand realizing the feeling of her skin on his.

Did Ichigo always have a muscular body like this?

Her eyes were still fixed on his chest questioningly tilting her head.

“No, actually that was a lot of training.”

Rukia nodded absentmindedly before it hit her in the face: “Wait! What?!” Her eyes shot up to him: “You heard that?!” She sounded a little hysteric, understandably so. Rukia watched him in shock a few seconds then rolled herself on her back next to him. That didn’t just happen. He was just making fun of her again and didn’t have the slightest clue what she’d… Wait, did she say that out loud? She was ruffling her hair trying to calm down her breath. Her heart was racing. Seriously, if this was a joke it wasn’t funny…

“I didn’t know you payed attention to this kind of things.”

She would’ve liked to kill him for this stupid grin his voice gave away. Rukia exhaled deeply, biting her lip in order to keep her anger contained: “Well, I didn’t. That’s the reason I didn’t notice until now.”

Ichigo folded his arms behind his head she could see it from the corner of her eye. He was taking this so casually. “I didn’t know you saw me like that.” His idiot smile was still there, as if he had just learned that his high school crush liked him back.

“Like what?” Her voice was indifferent, even a little annoyed. She wanted to get this conversation over with.

He turned to the side to face her. She didn’t do the same.

“Like a man.”

Now she did. She rested her head on her hand and looked at him with a sarcastic expression: “Uhm, as far as I remember you are one, right? Unless you are actually a woman and are just really good in disguising as a man and making everyone believe you were one.”

Ichigo repressed a laugh: “I take that as a yes.”

Rukia rolled back onto her back: “Do what you want.”

A moment of silence followed.

Then she suddenly heard his voice in her head:

Your bankai looks really good on you. It’s beautiful.

Rukia turned only her head, skeptical if she had really heard him say that.

It suits you.

His lips had not moved at all.

It’s even… a little sexy.

Her eyes widened when she instantly jumped to her feet trying to get a few steps away: “Okay, that’s enough! I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but this is definitely going too far.”

He’d never seen her so close to panicking before.

We’re in the middle of war. We cannot. This is not about us. We have to…

“Rukia.” He grabbed her shoulder turning her around to him: “Don’t you see what just happened?”

She was frozen in her spot just like their surroundings had because of her bankai.

“It worked.” He declared in triumph when she didn’t react, another rare smile on his face.

She blinked at him a few times until it finally sank in.

“We did it.” Rukia murmured. He was right she did hear his thoughts – word for word. “We really did it.” She repeated, this time fully aware what this meant. They would be able to defeat him, to win, to end the war.

A few moments of silence followed. None of them really knew what to say or what to think. There wouldn’t be any way to hide from now on, would it?

Ichigo cleared his throat breaking the awkward moment between them: “Well, uhm… So…” He looked right then left, not sure how to tell her. “You know… now that… we are able to hear each other’s thoughts…” This time he did scratch the back of his head. “Well now that you will find out anyway... I can just tell you myself… I guess.” A deep exhale followed before he looked back into her eyes: “I really like you. Not as a friend, not as my partner in battle, not as the person who saved my life, but…”

“I know.”

A frown appeared on his face and he looked a little confused. Rukia just smiled one of her soothing smiles: “I mean it’s not like we had no idea about our feelings for each other until now.”

His frown deepened. “Weren’t you the one close to panic just a second ago because I hinted something like that? And now you are acting like this is absolutely normal?”

She rolled her eyes, a little sigh followed: “Well, now that you’ve actually said it… there’s no reason to anymore. When you’re set to do something nothing and no one can stop you, that’s how it’s always been. So… as you said – we’ll know anyway.”

I’d like to kiss you.

What’s holding you back?

I don’t know, isn’t this… What if you’re right and this is going too fast?

We’re at war, yes. Maybe it’s not the best timing.

Thought so.

But, maybe it’ll help us. Because there’s nothing left unsaid between us.

So you think we will win?

What do you think?

Well I can do anything, as long as you are right next to me. So, yeah we will.

We will.

We will win.

 And then he kissed her. And he would wonder why they didn’t do this earlier. And she would ‘say’ that he just didn’t ask.

They would fight the finally battle together. They would win. They would survive. They would save everyone just like the zero squad and Urahara had hoped. But most importantly in the end they would be happy. And Juhabach would never return.

 Because it was their story – a story where life and death would no longer be apart.

[lo-55]

Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 8

Not Yet Too Late

 When they are tossed unceremoniously out the gate of the Dangai (and hell, Ichigo never thought he’d miss the vertigo of a Ray Shift before) Ichigo and Yoroichi are the only ones who land on their feet. Orihime breaks their fall with one of her barriers. Seeing it in action, three pronged and glowing, helps him file away what she can do for later.

 He starts looking around.

 They’re in a village, one that’s empty and devoid of life. Seemingly. Ichigo sees shadows move in the buildings. Okay. Not ideal. Nothing good comes from dropping right in the middle of civilization. It always leads to a fight. London had been a shit show and a half.

 At least he can see now. And what he sees, down the road, is unmistakable.

 “Is that Seireitei?” Ichigo asks aloud. A sprawling city with the harsh edges and an oppressive aura of order and structure. There was a thin line the separate the streets there, shining and well kept, from even the nice enough streets they stood upon. Ichigo knew it for what it was even if Kyo hadn’t told him about it before. He can recognize a military compound for what it is.

 “Yes,” Yoruichi comes to stand at his feet. “Right now we’re in the Rukongai, the outskirts of the soul society. This is the part of the soul society where the most souls live, and also the poorest part.”

 Ichigo doesn’t respond as Yoruichi explains it to his friends who don’t know.

 He eyes the line in the ground.

 “They’ll know we’re here,” he said abruptly. “We need to move away from here. Our entrance was too flashy, and the people in these houses probably won’t keep us a secret. Yoruichi, the Seireitei. Does is have some kind of bounded field?”

 There was no way a military complex didn’t have defenses, no matter how it looked right there.

 “...Yes. There’s a wall that will fall should anyone try to cross the threshold without a permit. On top of that, there’s a gate guardian who will not let anyone past him.”

 “That’s fine. Okay,” Ichigo ran his fingers through his hair, gathering it all to the back of his head. He tied it into a tight, short pony tail. “We need a base of operations so we can figure out how to get in. We’re short on time but still… I’d like to avoid rushing in head first.”

 If it was just him, he probably wouldn’t be so cautious. If it was him, Mash, Cu, and Medusa he would have no hesitation. Break in, make a fuss, and disappear into the veritable maze he knows stretches out. Kyo had told him once how easy it was to get lost if you didn’t know where he was going.

 Joy.

 Yoruichi is giving him the strangest look, but she doesn’t argue.

 “You’re right. Come with me. I have a friend nearby who I believe will be willing to help us.”

 “Sure.”

 Ichigo casts one last look at the Seireitei and follows after the black cat leading their path.

     Just wait for me a little longer Rukia. I swear. I will come save you.  

       *

 Three days.

 Kisuke has been training Ichigo Kurosaki for three days when Yoruichi finally comes back from where she’s taken his two young friends for their own training. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, this whole plan.

 Not their ages, though they are infants by shinigami time. Smaller people than them are made killers, as Kisuke himself well knows. He was barely taller than Jinta when he had met Yoruichi, and scarcely five years older than that when she first handed him envelope of thick, expensive paper. The parchment itself had been worth more money than he’d seen in his entire first century of after-life. The life inside of it, worth somehow more and less.

 He knew, understood intimately, how far a person could go for their friends. As far as follow them into a dark, dangerous new world.

 They don’t have a lot of options, other than to train these teenagers to the best of their abilities. He, Tessei, Yoruichi and the Visord are all banned completely from the Soul Society. Shy of destroying the defending, interdimensional barrier that binds them, there’s no way for them to go in.

 While he could, if he did then they would be faced with Yamamoto and the terrible two, Ukitake and Kyoraku, the second they stepped foot in rukongai. Even Kisuke, with his clever plans and deadly edge, can’t stand against the overwhelming power of Yamamoto’s burning blade.

 That’s not even to mention the other two captains, who are kind only when they can be.

 Kisuke had been young still, just a tetchy little first year in the academy, who hadn’t yet learned to hide completely behind his smiles, under Shihoin sponsorship the last year of the Quincy war.

 He can remember intimately, horribly, the dark look in Yoruichi’s eyes when she walked back into the Shihoin manor with the two trailing after her. It had been the first time Kisuke had ever seen the two, and the affable captain of the eighth and the gentle commander of the thirteenth were no where to be seen.

 They were commanders in a war of extermination, with shadows in the their eyes, and a hand on a blade at all times. Everything about them had been dangerous, weary dogs barely leashed to their master. Ready for the next fight, ready for the next kill. They hadn’t had the luxury of mercy then.

 If any of them are caught in Seireitei, there will be no luxury allowed from the Central 46.

 But these teenagers are young. The old guard, Yamamoto, Unohana, and Yamamoto’s first two students like to pretend that they’re no longer wolves. Kisuke is forced to bank on the idea that they will go after these children with as much mercy as they will be allowed.

 That was the plan.

 It had started as a contingency plan when Masaki and Isshin had first come to him with news of her pregnancy. A dark scheme that he wanted to discard, but he wasn’t able to. A child with the blood of a great shinigami line and a long standing quincy one. Half blooded on both sides, with the potential of a natural born hollow inside his soul.

 (Kisuke’s hands have itched for years to see this boy, to find out what he could do, where his tendencies lay.

 Then Masaki had died, and Isshin had forbidden any of them from coming near the Kurosaki house. Even Kisuke has enough respect for that.)  

 The plan      was    a hail mary that banked on the better nature of war veterans and murderers, and Yoruichi’s ability to train and keep track of human teenagers. She’ll have more luck herding cats.

     Was    .

 Now, things have changed.

 Ichigo lies a hundred yards away in a crater, his arms stretched out and his breathing even. Even asleep, he’s not let go of his sword.

 Yoruichi sits at his side, her tail curled around her front paws.

 “He really just meditated and woke up his powers?” Kisuke has to ask again. It’s the second time. Rarely does he need something repeated but this… This is a bit different.

 “Mmmm. He was in a house that wasn’t his families. It only smelled like him and the mod soul, Kon. I didn’t get to see everything, obviously. I’m not sure what he did. He said, and I quote, ‘Fucking everyone is so damn cryptic all the time’. And then, ‘a backwards ray shift’. After that he slipped into something like jinzen. His reitsu changed while he was meditating, and you know the rest.”

 Kisuke frowned deeply. “Who was being cryptic?”

 “I couldn’t tell you,” Yoruichi shakes her head. “He’s a strange kid, Kisuke.”

 “That’s putting it mildly. Have you seen him fight? I’ve never seen anyone that refined and that coarse in the same time.”

 “He doesn’t have a single particular style,” Yoruichi agreed. “But it’s clear he knows several different ones, and is at least proficient in each. Did you notice he’s ambidextrous?”

 “Mhmm. I did. Did you notice his soul looks older than his body?”

 Kisuke is reluctant to admit it, but he might have to talk to Isshin about this.

 He should be more worried. He is, his mind spinning a hundred paranoid ideas. Everything from Aizen has already gotten to Ichigo, even though he knows that’s impossible right now, to Ichigo has been replaced by a clone that Kisuke didn’t make.

 * *

 They finally lure the people out of hiding so Yoruichi can ask the leader of the village for someone named Kukaku.

 Shiba Kukaku. If Ichigo recalls, Kyo had once told him that Shiba were a strange type of royalty in the Seireitei. Not as stuck up as the rest of the noblemen, who Kyo quietly despised (he’d never been good enough at lying to hide all of his vitriol from Ichigo) they were a rowdy bunch that blew things up a lot.

 Not exactly stealthy, but Ichigo was willing to go along with whatever Yoruichi’s plan was for now. Clearly she knew what she was doing. She and Urahara, and probably Tessai and the kids, were undoubtedly from here. What happened and why they were in the world of the living was none of his business.

 They were in the middle of talking to the old man when the door burst open and a pig launched a man off of her(?) back.

 Ichigo caught him effortlessly around the middle.

 “Ah! She threw me again!” The stranger shouted, far to close to Ichigo’s ear. Ichigo set him on his feet.

 “Careful,” he advised. The man dusts his pants off and finally looks to Ichigo.

 “I’m fine, I’m fine. It happens all… the… time?” He stares. Ichigo can see the flip switched in his head, and suddenly he’d ducking a punch. “A punk ass shinigami!”

 “Hey. Don’t be rude,” Ichigo says with no sense of irony at all. The man is broad, strong, with a bandana over his black hair and goggles over his eyes.

 “What are you doing here?!”

 Ichigo just stared at him. This guy was so rowdy. They really didn’t have time to be dealing with him…

 Of course, he got right in Ichigo’s face. He even patted his cheek patronizingly.

 “Didn’t you hear me? I asked what a punk ass shinigami like you is-”

 When Ichigo punches him he goes flying right back through the wall.

 “...huh,” Ichigo says idly. “I tried to hold back.”

 That training with Urahara must have done him more good than he first thought.

 He picks his way through the broken wall to find his attacker knocked out on the ground.

 “Oh. Well that happened.”

 He shrugs it off and goes back inside to sit beside Yoruichi in front of a bug eyed mayor while a bunch of punks riding literal hogs surround the guy Ichigo knocked out.

 “Anyhow. You were saying your friend lives somewhere around here, weren’t you?”

 “....yes. We will have to find Kukaku’s house, but I believe that she will help us.”

 “How is she going to get us into Seireitei? If the walls come down and there’s guards at the gate that cuts off the direct route.”

 “You’re not wrong.”

 Yoruichi explains that the Seireitei is surrounded on all sides by a spirit barrier. No amount of spirit energy will serve them any good. Which is irritating. If it was spells or a bounded field they could maybe find a way to wind through them or hack past the barriers, like Flat does as easy as breathing. But if it’s that secure, above and bellow, Ichigo really has no choice but to trust Yoruichi to know what she’s doing.

 He doesn’t have any better ideas, certainly. So they set off to find this Kukaku Shiba.

 The only problem is that she is, apparently, the older sister of the guy Ichigo KO’d. And that’s how Ichigo finds himself running away from a woman with one arm and a hand full of bombs.

 How is this his life?

 Yoruichi manages to smooth things over by explaining that Ganju had started everything and Ichigo had only hit him once. Then the scolding goes from Kukaku on Ichigo to Kukaku on Ganju.

 “And I thought I had weird family dynamics,” Ichigo muttered to Uryu, who’s been watching the whole ordeal like it’s a sitcom.

 “Your family dynamics are weird,” Uryu replies without missing a beat.

 Ichigo snorts, but shuts up when Kukaku turns to them.

 “Alright. Since this is Yoruichi and Urahara asking me, I can’t say no to this job. But I don’t trust you kids. So once Ganju,” Who had been dragged home by the hog riders while Ichigo’s group was looking for the house, “Wakes up, he’ll be going with you.”

 First Ichigo knocked him out, then his own sister. Ichigo is starting to pity the fool.

 Which was just great.

 “Fine,” Ichigo mentally starts changing his plans again around the new arrival. It’ll add friction. Ganju clearly hates shinigami, but if they’re going up against shinigami hopefully the common enemy will help smooth over the enmity.

 “But first, how exactly are you planning on getting us in there?”

 “Huh? I’ll show you.”

 Kukaku leads them into the bowels of the house, until they’re standing in a dark room and looking up at a round chimney that Ichigo knows extends high outside.

 “I’m going to get you in through the sky!”

 “...fuck me,” Ichigo says. “It’s a canon.”

     Please dear god let this be less terrifying than being shot into the sky on a bow.  

 “That’s right! You’re looking at the number one fireworks maker, Kukaku Shiba!”

 Fuck.

 “Okay.”

 Kukaku tosses a ball his way. Ichigo turns it over in his hands, inspecting it curiously. There’s a design on it that reminds him vaguely of a phoenix and star wars. The door slides open while Ichigo is inspecting it, and Ganju steps inside. He’s got a nasty black eye.

 “Focus your energy in there,” she orders.

 Ichigo, who has spent five years pouring his mana and reiryoku into literally dozens of people, does just that. It’s as easy as breathing. A light flickers and he finds himself in a perfect sphere that glows so brightly with his energy it threatens to blind even him. Beyond the confines he can hear his friends shout. So he cuts off the pouring of power and drops the ball to the floor.

 “Was that right?” he asks.

 The dropped jaw on Kukaku’s face was enough of an answer.

 Ichigo always has been good at making impressions.

 “Yeah,” she says at last, recovering faster than Ichigo was expecting. “That’ll work. My men will take you to the training room for some more practice. If it’s not perfect by tomorrow, you’ll blow up on entry.”

 Ichigo doesn’t even blink.

 “I understand. Thanks.”

 While they’re walking away, Ichigo takes a look back just in time to see Ganju’s face twisted in unmistakable pain.

 * * *

 Tea steams across the table, twirling in the light of the overhead. The kettle sits on the counter, unplugged but still hot and ready to use. The wonders of human convenience.

 Isshin sits across from Kisuke on the low table, his eyes strangely dark, his customary smile missing. It’s frankly disturbing, and a good sign of the times.

 “So,” Isshin starts. “Why did you call? I doubt it’s a social call.”

 Indeed, his son has just left on a potential suicide mission to save a girl he barely knows on grounds of a favor that he owes. It’s such a Shiba thing to do.

 Ichigo is a frightening boy, he is his parents son, but Kisuke thinks he will surpass them both rather soon.

 “No, I'm afraid not,” Kisuke’s tone is still light, still somewhat playful. He misses Yoruichi at his side. He kind of misses the brash, unbending teenager that had been in his basement. Ichigo seems to have a talent for worming his way into people’s good graces, despite his manners.

 Kisuke can’t imagine how often he gathers followers if his plan for invading seireitei was to make allies and convince them to commit treason. Ichigo doesn’t seem      stupid    . Perhaps just overly optimistic?  

 “When did you teach your son to fight with a sword?” he asks instead, starting with the easiest question. Easier than asking ‘Isshin why the fuck does a child move like he’s lived and breathed fighting but thinks the bonds of friendship will save him?’. Or, ‘How did Ichigo do in one hour what normally takes more than ten years?’.

 “I never have. Why?” Isshin frowns. “He went to karate for years, and we spar at home, but he’s never held a weapon before.”

 “Is that so?” Kisuke cocks his head, his grey eyes narrowing minutely. Never touched a sword? No, that’s impossible. Ichigo moves with grace and holds a weapon with ease that only comes from long years of practice.

 “Why? Kisuke, what’s going on with my son?” Isshin’s voice raises. He slaps his hands on the table, only to retract them with Kisuke gives him a Look.

 Kisuke can only shake his head. “I couldn’t tell you. Your best guess is to ask him, but I know you won't do that.”

 Guilt and discomfort flickers across Isshin's face. He looks down, his fists clenching in his lap.

 “The time isn't right yet.”

 “The time's never going to be right,” It’s something Kisuke has wanted to say for      years    now.  “You'll keep putting it off until eventually, it's too late. I know you.”

 Isshin's jaw sets and he narrows those dark eyes at Kisuke. Anyone else might have at least squirmed. Kisuke doesn’t so much as blink. “That's why I asked you to look out for him.”

 “Have you seen your son lately, Isshin?” He hardly needs anyone to look out for him anymore. Even Kisuke has nothing to teach. All he van do right now, without jeopardizing Ichigo’s trust in him, is keep pushing Ichigo to grow stronger and stronger.

 It occurs to him, briefly, that Ichigo might learn who they are in Seireitei, but that is a bridge Kisuke will cross when they reach it.

 “Don’t talk down to me!” Isshin’s temper finally frays. The fact that it took so little is telling. Isshin is worried about Ichigo. A father who told his son none of what his life may hold is worried now for what will happen to him that life.

 Kisuke wants to laugh in his face.

 Since he doesn’t want to be punched, even by Isshin in a gigai, he snaps his fan out over his smiling mouth.

 “Then step up, Isshin. You’re children are growing. If you’re not careful, your children will leave you behind.”

 He thinks, privately, that Ichigo already has.

 Isshin is silent for a long, terrible minute. Isshin is never silent. He is loud and brash and makes an excellent ‘idiot distraction’. Too good, sometimes, if he really hasn’t noticed any of this.

 Ichigo walks with purpose. With weariness. Kisuke is too familiar with the dark edges of existence not to see the way Ichigo faces windows and door, the way he watches shadows, the way his hand twitches to the right like there’s something or someone there when the air is empty. Kisuke can see the darkness in the back of brown eyes.

 Something happened, and the only time it could have occurred was over the summer.

 What happened, in this Chaldea?

 “...he asked me about Masaki,” Isshin says at last. “He asked me if she was a quincy.”

 “Did you tell him?” As if Kisuke doesn’t already know the answer.

 “No.”

 His voice is quiet.

 “He asked me in front of her grave, and I couldn’t tell him the truth. It’s already too late, Kisuke.”

 “Isshin… You really area fool.”

 Ichigo is gone now. Maybe, for Isshin, forever.

 * * * *

 That night, Ichigo finds himself sitting outside in the grass, rolling stones through his fingers while lightning bugs flicker around him.

 It’s picturesque out here. Almost enough to be the paradise so many people hope for.

 It’s nothing like the long, dark corridors of Kur. It’s nothing like the dead soil and the flickering cages tended to so carefully by Ereshkigal. Ichigo aches with thoughts of what might have happened to her. Where is she, that she allowed her land to fall into such a state of poverty? When had grass started to grow? When had a King taken over the afterlife?

 He has a million questions and not a single answer.

 Ichigo rolls a rock around in his palm. In his other hand he brings up a small knife and cuts into the stone a familiar rune. One line with a single smaller one branching off downwards.

 ‘Torch’.

   He knows mana won’t work here. There is no life for this land of life energy. That was how they’d defeated Tiamat, after all.

 So he must come up with something else.

     Ichigo knows, for Scathach has told him, that most mages have absolutely reiryoku to their name. Once they die they can no longer perform their precious magic, for there is no mana for them to use.

 Ichigo is blessed (or something) with an over abundance of both and a talent only for mana transference.

 It seems to him that the concept can’t be that different.

 So he focuses on the stone in his hand and calls on the energy he can feel humming around him. In the air, the grass, the earth, it makes up everything the same way mana does. He draws it into himself and tries to press into the rock in his hand.  The energy sinks in, slowly at first. It’s like trying to force syrup into a water balloon made of concrete.

  It’s not really working.

  Some instinct hisses in the back of his mind and Ichigo sits straight up, drawing Zangetsu from where he’s sat in the grass beside him. He’s not a second too late, barely blocking a blow that comes from the shadows.

 Ichigo is on his feet in a second.

 He hasn’t survived this long by being stupid, and he’s always trusted his instincts. They’ve never let him die yet.

 They’re far enough away that if he shouts no one will reach him in time to help. Even if he was closer, when he sees the man step out of the trees he knows without a doubt; none of his friends can take this man.

 He’s tall. Silver hair and a curved smile makes him think of a snake. He almost feels like Stheno, enough that it sets Ichigo’s teeth on edge. He remembers clearly her habit of toying with those she likes, embarrassing and driving them to ruin while watching them struggle.

 “You know it’s rude to attack someone when their back is turned?” Ichigo says, tilting his blade and letting the bandages flow off and into the air.

 The mans smile stretches.

 “You have good reflexes for a kid,” he teases, his voice light. Ichigo narrows his eyes. This man is strong. Stronger than Ichigo for certain, but if he’s careful…

 “I’m not a kid. Who are you?”

 “Me? Oh, no one really. I just wanted to see who it was that came to visit today. You’re causing quite the stir, you know.”

 “Oh yeah?” Ichigo narrows his eyes. “Are you here for a fight?”

 The man considers him. He lifts a dagger up, twirling it elegantly. He drops into a hard stands, one leg behind the other, partially bent, his hand with the knife at the back.

 Ichigo gets Zangetsu up without a second to spare, blocking the blade an inch from cutting into his shoulder. It extends and retracts in the time it takes to blink.

 Joy.

 Ichigo isn’t the fastest person, and his sword is big and powerful not small and swift. They’re a bad match up.

 Oh well.

 Ichigo lifts Zangetsu and brings him back down, slicing the air and cleaving the earth. The man, a shinigami with a white coat the flutters around him, dodges to the side with a single step. Ichigo catches a glimpse of his eyes. Quicksilver, it’s gone a second later and replaced by that same smile.

 “If you’re looking for a fight, I won’t back down,” Ichigo warns. Zangetsu hums in his grasp, comforting and familiar. His blood pounds, excitement rushes under his skin.

 “You're an interesting guy,” the stranger muses, “Aren’t you afraid of me?”

 It’s all Ichigo can do not to laugh.

 Ichigo has fought gods and monsters. This is just a man.

 “No way in hell.”

 “What a strange person you are.” He puts his short sword back in it’s sheath and it disappears inside his sleeves. Ichigo doesn’t trust it for a minute. “I have what I need. Bye bye now.”

 He waves and disappears in a blur of speed that makes Ichigo’s stomach twist. If that man wanted him dead, he would probably      be    dead.

 Ichigo is left alone in the dark.

 With nothing else to do, he picks up his rock and tries again.

 He only gets a few more minutes of trying to fill the cement balloon before the door to the main house opens and Orihime comes walking out. She shivers at the chill in the air and looks around until her eyes find his. They’re full of concern and compassion.

 It’s for the best. Ichigo needs to talk to her anyways.

 He waves her over.

 Orihime is someone that Ichigo has known for years, but barely knows at all in the end. He knows how her brother died.

 (He was there when it happened, when they came broken bodied and hearted into the kurosaki clinic. Her hair was short and her eyes were wet and dull with grief. For Ichigo grief was already an old companion. He’d sat at her side while his dad tried to explain what was happening to a child that already knew. He wonders if she remembers. He almost hopes she does.)

 Yet, they’ve never hung out outside of school. She is Tatsuki’s friend, and Tatsuki is Ichigo’s, and so she is in the same orbit as he is but they’ve never really gone off with each other, and rarely had true conversations.

 (He keeps waiting for her to bring up Acidwire/Sora.)

 (she doesn’t)

 She kneels across from him, a bright smile in the dark of night and Ichigo is suddenly very, very glad that she’d not come a few minutes earlier. He’s not sure how well he could have protected her.

 The thought tastes like bile.

 “Kurosaki,” she smiles sweetly at him. “You’ve been out here so long. Aren’t you getting cold?”

 Ichigo tilts his head before he shakes it.

 “No, I’m fine.”

 “O-oh.”

 Orihime is unsure of herself. It seems like she always is, except when she protected them in the Dangai, and when she swore to follow him into battle.

 How does he keep finding these people? These inexplicably loyal beings, with power beyond humans, who follow him into convoluted plots and dangerous schemes? How does he keep tricking people into thinking it’s a good idea?

 Is everyone just stupid?

 “Orihime, listen.”

 She perks up, all of his attention on him. Ichigo doesn’t like saying this, but it’s something he has to. There’s no other option.

 “When we get to the Seireitei, you’re going to be out top supporter. You’re our only healer, and while Uryu and I know basic first aid, it’s different from actually fixing someone. On top of that, you’re our shield. I know you’ve got an attack, but listen. Can you use it?”

 Orihime’s brows furrow. “I can use it. I know how, I’ve been practicing with Tsubaki and Yoruichi for a long time now.”

 “I don’t mean physically,” he corrects. He wants to be gentle, but it’s just not going to work. “I mean, can you actually hurt someone?”

 She freezes.

 “I-”

 “If it comes down to you or them. If it comes down to them or me. Orihime, could you hurt someone? Could you attack with the intent of making sure they don’t get back up?”

 She clasps her hands in her lap. “I-I can-”

 “If you can’t,” he cuts in swiftly. “Say it now. When we fight we need to know you have our backs. Do you understand, Orihime? “

 “Y-yes,” she bows her head. Her hair pins glow faintly in the darkness, distracting from the shadow cast over her eyes.

 * * * * *

 Ichigo eyes the dark waters of the Mississippi warily.

 “This is insane,” he says aloud, “I’ve never seen anything this wide before.”

 He spins and points at Cu. “Don’t say a thing.”

 The caster lifts his hand, looking innocent. “I can’t say wha now?”

 “Fuck you.”

 “Stop being vulgar.”

 Kyo prods Ichigo from the side, garnering his attention. Mash sits at the front of their boat, a flat barge that pushes along valiantly. They’re halfway to the whitehouse now. Halfway to the end of the war, and Ichigo can feel the stress thrum across his skin. He doesn’t know what to do now.  The traveling. The waiting. The intermediate fighting is tiring everyone out, Ichigo included.

 It’s hard to stay on guard 24/7, with anxiety pushing them forwards as much as anything else.

 As much as supporting other people tires him out, staying on his toes constantly is a whole other type of exhausting.

 He trusts his servants to keep him from harm, but they still rely on him to support them, to give them orders, to supply them with information that they need. He stays in the back, he watches and waits, and tells them where best to place their blows. He looks for opening they can’t see from so close up.

 Kyo’s hand lands on his knee. Ichigo stops bouncing it. He hadn’t even realized hed started.

 “Kyo…?” It still feels wrong to voice his true name out loud, even though Kyo has told him a more intimate secret than just his name.

 Kyo turns his dark eyes on Ichigo. There’s a furrow in his brows. He’s just as tired as the rest of them. With the rest of the world collapsing, more and more hollow’s are being pushed into the only place left in the living world. Early on it was just weaklings, but now there are smaller, more humanoid monsters that stalk their steps, waiting to devour the dead they leave in their wake.

 A war is an all you can eat buffet for creatures made of fear, rage, and hunger.

 “Breath, Ichigo,” Kyo nudges him back against the crate they’re rested against, near the edge of t the flat barge.

 “I am breathing,” he grumbles petulantly.

 Kyo barely has enough dignity not to roll his eyes. That’s fine. Ichigo has been wearing him down for months. Kyo wears manners and politeness like armor, and Ichigo has a terrible habit of shattering things like that.

 “You know what I mean. You should reserve yourself for the final fight.”

 “I know. I’m trying.”

 Kyo hums. The moon hangs heavy and full above their heads. Ichigo knows instinctively that neither of them will really sleep, but resting his eyes is better than nothing. With Medusa on watch, no one will sneak up on them.

 It’s only a small comfort.

 A bigger comfort is the shoulder pressed against his, invisible and intangible to everyone but him. Ichigo will not admit it, but it feels sometimes like Kyo is only his. The rest of these heroes are here to save the world, and Kyo is too, but while they all have each other the two of them are the only ones privy to the world of the dead and the skull masked monsters that creep in the shadows.

 Something protective curls in his chest and Ichigo relaxes, leaning half into Kyo’s side. He watches the moon ripples across the water, unattainable and intangible.  

 * * * * * *

[rinusagitora]

All very ghoulish (2/10)

Fandom: Bleach

Characters: Karin Kurosaki, Ichigo Kurosaki, Rukia Kuchiki, Kisuke Urahara, Momo Hinamori, Izuru Kira, Tessai Tsukabishi, Ururu Tsumugiya, Tier Harribel, Kenpachi Zaraki, Genryuusai Yamamoto, Toushirou Hitsugaya, Masaki Kurosaki, Mayuri Kurotsuchi, Nemu Kurotsuchi, Yuzu Kurosaki

Pairings: minor KiraHina

Words: 6,100+

Summary: Monster!AU collab w/ @back-in-a-bit. SFW version;  Chaos overtakes London, and Karin undergoes a strange procedure.

AO3: works/16307414/chapters/49021901#workskin (NSFW)

Momo Hinamori felt like she rode roller coasters more often than not.

For the last four decades, she was Sousuke Aizen's loyal wife, and then only two years ago, he was incarcerated for being one evil son of a bitch, and she hadn't gotten back on her feet since then. Her nightmares persisted. Her ribs still hurt, even though she healed months ago. It was very much like he leached on her bones.

Momo Hinamori was once a monster with serrated teeth and a fire in her core. Presently, she was just embers, coddled in her new husband's mink coat and bottle-fed with packs and packs of cigarettes.

Thankfully, strip clubs allowed indoor smoking. She was never caught without something made of nicotine and ordinarily poisonous chemicals between her lips. Their invoices came in clean like linen and were filed strongly smelling like tobacco.

Still, Shinji pet her hair like a cat, or his child, even though she stank and looked at him like he was a cannibal.

“You should go home tonight, sweetie,” he said. “You’ve done more than enough for the girls tonight. Go back home to your husband.”

She smiled. “Okay. Thank you, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Momo gathered her purse and coat, headed outside, and she hailed a taxi on the street. "Caridge Park Apartments, please," she said.

"Caridge Park," the driver copied. "Care if I listen to the radio?"

"Go ahead."

Momo's head laid against the glass. A news station turned on. Momo didn't care much for the news, so she tuned it out and instead fiddled with her phone.

She received a text message over Kik from a family friend, Nemu Kurotsuchi. Gin Ichimaru had critically injured her husband Izuru when they defected and attempted to destroy the Seireitei coven. Nemu used her magic to heal him. Izuru and Nemu were good friends ever since, almost like father and daughter. Momo was fond of Nemu as well. While they only spoke in private, Nemu was a brilliant, sweet young woman, and it wasn't uncommon for them to text back and forth.

Nemu's text worried Momo, however. Nemu had only sent and apology.

The sun was just over the horizon. The speaker mentioned an explosion at a call center, the call center her dear brother worked at, and it felt like her guts dislodged. It felt like her teeth were knocked out all over again.

"I-I'm sorry, can you turn that off? I need to make a call," Momo said.

"Sure thing."

Momo quickly dialed Toushirou and it immediately went to voicemail. Momo swore time stopped. Her and Toushirou weren't close, not like when they were kids, but she loved him enough to think about him every day. She called her husband next. She didn't even bother with salutations. "My brother's workplace just blew up," she croaked.

"Oh my God," Izuru said over the receiver. "Momo, where are you?"

"I need you to call Rangiku for me. Tell her to get in touch with Akon right away. I'll call you when I'm done. I love you."

Momo crushed her phone in her hand. With the speed of a viper, she slammed the metal shards in the driver's face, and forced heat into her hands. The cab swerved into a phone tower. The horn blared.

Momo was completely unaffected. She calmly kicked off her heels and stepped into the glass-ridden street, where she molted her human skin. Her arms, four, to be exact, pushed down her skin to her ankles, where she emerged with cloven hooves. The tips of her inward fire licked the open lesions across her chest and shoulders, which cast a discordant light onto her face. She pulled her mink coat over her body, ignored the smell of singed fur, and vanished with a spark.

The explosion was no accident. Momo had questions for Nemu.

---

Toushirou's life normally amounted to nothing less than a circus, but between his strange dreams and sleep deprivation, it felt like he was on acid in a funhouse, jabbed and taunted by various spooks as he stumbled across the simplest entrapments. His body protested but Toushirou intended for his pain to be kept under lock and key.

He rolled his shoulders. They ground in their sockets, a sound much like when the bones of shapeshifters shifted into place. It never failed to make his stomach churn.

He was sick. At the same time, he refused to treat the symptoms. It was a demonic thing. Any indication of weakness was a recipe for cannibalism. After Sousuke Aizen, Gin Ichimaru, Tousen Kaname couped and killed at least a dozen of their coven members, Toushirou didn’t dare test his luck. He remembered all too well he wasn’t the only thing which lurked in the darkness, as ironic as it was.

Toushirou distracted himself from such miserable thoughts. The coven group chat displayed several new messages. Juushirou was abuzz about Mayuri's latest disappearance, as if that oddball didn't have a new act every weekend. Toushirou made sure to let Juushirou know not to worry about that clown privately. Toushirou was one of the newest members of their coven, after his former coven was incorporated into Seireitei due to their small number's inability to handle the increase of ghoul attacks, and since he was so new and youthful, he was still leered at. He knew it was necessary to make friends. Juushirou, a handsome and ancient fae, was amiable and liked by almost everyone. He was a great in for Toushirou.

He glanced at himself in the mirror by the door one last time. His suit was starched, his bedhead handsome. Telecommunications wasn't his favorite occupation, but it was better than his managerial position at McDonalds. It wasn't like his demonic pride was intact in the first place.

At five in the morning, traffic was a blur of barren red lights until the intersection a block away from the call center where he was employed. Brittany Coschtz pulled up in her little Prius, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, with her shiny pink hair pulled back into a messy bun, and her smile wide as the Amazon River. She was pretty. Toushirou let himself go in recent years when he compared himself to her. His neck sinews smoothed out, his chest was undefined. Nonetheless, he couldn't help but imagine sexual exchanges.

Brittany pulled ahead of him once the light turned green. His wood shrank. Toushirou missed the flat expanse of his groin.

In the parking lot, Toushirou paused when he came upon the security guard in the middle of a heated argument with an older woman.

Seconds later, Toushirou disregarded the encounter. It wasn't the first time someone trespassed and was warded off by security. His job was to train entry-level phone staff. It wasn't his concern.

"Good morning class," Toushirou said when he finally arrived to the training room. "Cell phones away, it's not like there's service down here anyways."

Phones were tucked away before he confiscated them. He began to boot up his desktop. "We're starting with escalations today. Bring up the curriculum and select the first hyperlink under escalations."

"Toushirou, did you see the chick outside?"

He rolled his eyes. Of course they wouldn't share his apathy to the subject. "Yes. I walked right past her and Dwight talking. He's got it covered. Don't worry about it."

"I saw Brittnay pull in earlier, but I didn't see her come in. Is she okay?"

"Everything is fine. Let's just get to work. Dwight has been working security here for sixteen years. He's more than capable of taking care of trespassers."

"Yeah, but like... did you see her teeth? She had like giant fangs. Are they fake?"

That did concern Toushirou. He hadn't picked up any ghoulish malevolence, though. Who knew what it was.

All said and done, Toushirou was disconcerted. What if they were to be attacked within the hour? Toushirou worked so long to preserve the life he crafted for himself. It took years to reach a comfortable job, to blend into humanity. He wasn't sure he had the patience to completely change his identity in the event he had to protect himself.

"Alright, everyone open the curriculum and go to week three and start on Situational Calls Overview. We'll go over it as a class in half an hour. If you forgot to clock in, make sure to send me a time card correction now so I can fix it."

Not a second later, the sound of crushed rocks ripped through the room. The force of the shockwave sent Toushirou into the opposite wall. He was covered in brick dust, it tasted like ash.

Toushirou became livid.

He grew a webbed crown and serrated teeth from his head. His fingers and toes lengthened and tapered off, crystalline scales sprout from his pores. His tailbone grew like a new spine into a thick tail like a lizard's.

He snarled at the two wretched ghouls. They fucking stank. It made his sinuses buzz from the irritant. His claws itched to fucking gut them.

He lunged with an open hand wound back to take out its head. His claws tore through the ghoul's side. He spun and slammed his heel into the gut of the other ghoul. Alas, the severe internal damage to both monsters unfazed them.

"Stubborn cunts!" Toushirou bellowed. He kicked one of them square in the ribs an he used it as a springboard to kick its partner with his razor-sharp toes.

He was pushed off his perch. His chest heaved like he was hyperventilating. Toushirou with his ancient tongues struggled to articulate something that described the feeling. Mechanically, he pushed himself up, and he slipped in a pool of oil. His blood.

The ghouls descended. He shrieked and flailed.

Toushirou would not let himself die at the hands of some fucking byproduct.

His bloodied palms slapped against his chest. From his back grew wings, and with a single thrust he launched himself into the air.

---

The train stopped every-fucking-where in the UK, and when Karin, Ichigo, and Rukia realized that, they collectively agreed to take a nap. Karin had trouble sleeping, however.

Rukia was a petite woman who met them at the station. Her and Ichigo were good friends. Strangely enough, Karin was never told about Rukia, but Ichigo was absent-minded and forgot about a lot of things, especially things which kept them in the loop.

Like the one time he and some friends he had in high school were exploring a storm drain when it suddenly flooded. Ichigo was pummeled by debris and forgot to tell his family about it. Subsequently, he constantly forgot to change his bandages, and about a month and a half after the flood when Karin realized he was injured, she helped redress his wounds and happened upon an exponentially worse wound. Of course, he chalked up the pain to bruising. Karin's brother was a dumbass.

As tired as Karin was, she was nervous to meet Kisuke Urahara. She replayed her earlier conversation with Rukia once again.

"Rukia, are you from Seireitei?" Karin asked as they were led into a private carriage.

"Of course I am. You won't find any other covens where we're going. Our leader doesn't tolerate the division of power. Yamamoto's power is absolute, and he's become more iron-fisted with this ghoul infestation."

"Infestation?"

"I know it's getting bad back in Karakura, but in London, I can't go anywhere outside of an armored, insulated car. The ghouls are so great in number that they swarm upon catching our scent."

"And we have to go there in order to meet Urahara?" Karin asked.

"Yes. Although, I'm not sure why he needs you, Karin," Rukia replied.

"He asked for the strongest of us. Karin is in heat," Ichigo said.

"Oh, that explains the smell, at least," Rukia replied. Karin wasn't one to be ashamed over her base needs, but she wished Ichigo wasn't so open about her maturation. It felt like there was a revolving door into her sex life. For someone like Karin, who preferred all facets of her life neatly compartmentalized, the overlap was absolute hell.

Ichigo quickly changed the subject. "Any guesses why Urahara wants the strongest of us?"

"Honestly? Sacrifice," Rukia postulated. Karin never came into contact with a full-blooded demon in the past, and especially not when she needed something from them. Uryuu told her how demons adored bloodshed and debt though. They loved it even more than a starved vampire loved blood.

"Cheerful today, aren't you?" Ichigo mumbled.

"You asked."

"I really hope they haven't asked for the strongest to send on a mission or some shit. Those ghouls are getting nastier. I don't want to get caught up in that alone," Karin confessed. She was rarely scared, never for herself, but Karin feared the unknown above all else.

Like when her mother passed away. Karin vividly remembered Masaki's funeral, where she refused to cry because if she started, she wasn't sure she could stop. Her father obsessed over the bills for awhile, and because of that, Karin lost a lot of sleep over the thought of homelessness, and then her grades dropped. She was so scared to unbottle her fear that the only way she kept from bursting like a hot dog over an open flame was to hurt hersel. There was still a scar on her stomach.

Rukia reached between them and held her hands like her big sister Yuzu did. "You won't be alone," Rukia assured Karin, "I promise."

Karin, unsure how to respond to sincere and earnest affection, changed the subject. "So who is this Urahara guy?"

"He's a demon exiled from the Seireitei coven. He's largely hailed as a genius though, so we had no choice but to reach out to him about the ghoul infestation. Here we are now," Rukia explained.

"How bad is it in London, then?" Karin asked.

"Martial Law is being discussed by Parliament."

"You've gotta be shitting me.... It's gotten that bad already?" Ichigo said. "Oh god, I thought we had it bad."

"It's torture, honestly. I haven't been able to go to work since I almost always end up getting ambushed whenever I leave my flat. If I don't apply medicated lotion, which I happen to be allergic to, I can't even go outside because they catch my scent." Rukia pulled up her sleeve and showed her bright red hives. Karin swallowed a thick lump in her throat.

"Jesus Christ," Ichigo said. "Rukia, why didn't you tell me? We have fae in our coven. They'll certainly have something for you to alleviate some pain."

"I consulted one of our own fae, Juushirou Ukitake. Even with undiluted blood, he couldn't help me. Our witches allied with our coven can't even help."

"Look, let me talk to Orihime. She has considerable healing powers. We'll see what we can do for you."

"This is sweet and all," Karin said, "but how're we gonna meet up with this Urahara guy?"

"There will be an armored truck for us at the station," Rukia said. "The driver knows where to take us."

"This isn't sketchy or anything…" Karin grumbled.

Four and a half hours after that, Karin was still nervous like the conversation was fresh. When they pulled to a stop in London, and Karin saw a windowless van outside her window, she felt sick.

---

Tessai Tsukabishi and Kisuke Urahara were in the kitchen when Toushirou Hitsugaya crashed through the ceiling onto Tessai.

"Fuck," Kisuke cursed. Tessai very coolly laid Toushirou on his back. The boy's lips were an unearthly green from hypovolemia. "Get the kids. Let them know we'll be having guests. Remind them to use the incense while they're waiting," he said. "I'll fix this kid up in the meantime."

"Alright, dear, holler if you need anything."

Kisuke opened his shirt. His insides crawled towards Toushirou.

---

Karin's head collided with the truck's interior and she cursed at the top of her lungs. "Careful up there! You're gonna bash my fucking brains in!"

"Karin… calm down," Ichigo told her. She spun towards him, her nostrils flared, and he looked away.

"That's what I fucking thought," she grumbled.

"We shouldn't be much longer," Rukia assured them.

Sure enough, the truck came to a stop, and the engine was killed. Karin, Rukia, and Ichigo happily crawled out of the back of the truck. A chill went down Karin’s spine. A reanimated corpse certainly explained the haphazard driving. If Kisuke Urahara wasn't above reanimation, though, what did he have in mind for her?

"This way," Rukia said. They entered through the back door of a green, two-story house, closed off with a warped wooden fence even taller than her brother. Someone the smell of mosquito repellent permeated from the very ground itself.

They followed Rukia down a bare concrete staircase to a dimly-lit, half-finished basement. There were six other people crammed together around a short poker table and covered in a fog of incense.

"Welcome. I'm glad you could make it," said a young woman, around Karin's age, with dark hair and ice-blue eyes. "My name is Ururu Tsumugiya. I'm one of Kisuke's children. He had a last minute patient come in so he had to take care of that first. He should be done shortly, however. In the meantime, have a seat."

Rukia pulled up a chair, but Ichigo and Karin shared a look that told them both the other one was more comfortable standing.

"No offense, but the tension is thick as hell here," Ichigo announced.

"That's because Toushirou Hitsugaya was attacked by ghouls this morning at his place of employment," said a youthful woman, with blond hair and rows of jagged teeth. "He's here now. Kisuke Urahara is patching him up."

Ichigo and Rukia became visibly disturbed. "Tier… this can't be true," Rukia said. "What happened?"

"That's all we know so far," Tier said.

"If you ask me, if he kicks the bucket, it's his own fault for not being able to defend himself," said a giant, black-haired man.

"Karin… these are Genryuusai Yamamoto, Kenpachi Zaraki, Yachiru Kusajishi, Ururu, Tier Harribel, and Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez," Rukia quickly explained to Karin. "This can't be true, though. Hitsugaya is one of our strongest entities! He couldn't have been overpowered by ghouls."

"He's not going to die," Tier said coolly, "But it's the truth."

"We're in quite a dire situation," Genryuusai said. He was certainly as intense as Rukia made him out to be. Even when he lamented, Karin felt like he was angry with her specifically. She decided she didn't like Genryuusai Yamamoto. Karin figured he was under a lot of stress, but he was also inconsiderate enough to not reign in his malevolence.

"Is this really your strongest, Ichigo? I'm surprised," Kenpachi Zaraki said. "I was under the impression you were the strongest."

"She's in heat," Ichigo said.

"Hey, I am right here, people. Instead of bringing it up to my brother, bring it up to me," Karin snapped.

"She's right," Tier said with a nasty glare aimed at Kenpachi, "if you have questions concerning Karin, ask her." He uncomfortably shifted in his seat.

"I'm sure she'd be much more comfortable if you stopped bringing up her maturation, Ichigo."

Karin, and most the other table, leapt to action at the sudden intrusion. Ururu was suddenly in front of them. The hollow barrel of a gun obscured Karin's vision.

"Alright, everyone calm down. I didn't mean to startle everyone…" Kisuke said. Slowly, weapons were lowered.

"These are certainly trying times, if every single one of you are on edge," Kisuke said as he took a seat. "I'm glad to announce I've found a way to eradicate this problem, however."

"And how is that?" Genryuusai asked.

"If you let him speak, he would tell you," Tier quipped.

"This… isn't going to be to your liking. Tier, Kenpachi, and Karin. You three are the strongest from your current covens. We are going to combine your powers, essentially."

"That's it?" Kenpachi asked.

"Well… no. This is an extremely experimental procedure, so I have no idea how it works to begin with, and I have no idea how the three of you will come out."

"These extreme measures for… for a ghoul infestation?" Ichigo exclaimed. "Absolutely not! I'm not letting my sister go through this thing without knowing what the hell she's gonna come out like."

"There's more to this infestation than he's letting on," Yamamoto announced.

Kisuke interlaced his fingers and laid his chin on them. "Unfortunately…. This hasn't been proven yet, but I believe there is a certain individual within our ranks responsible for the increased ghoul activity."

"You mean someone had begun puppeteering them?" Rukia said.

"Aye."

"Well, who is it?" Yamamoto spat.

"I'm not sure…. It could be Sousuke Aizen, Mayuri Kurotsuchi, and Shuutara Senjumaru. They are the only individuals with the means to achieve this caliber of invasion. I have no clues to which one it might be. But all of them are shrewd and powerful. We need extra firepower to take down the villainous one."

And if they didn't, they would all be attacked, one by one, until they were all annihilated.

"I'm in," Karin said. "I don't care what you think, Ichigo. We have to do this."

Ichigo stood stiller than a statue, stunned by Karin's resolution. It hurt her to see him that way. As much as Karin loved her family, there were problems bigger than them to begin with.

Tier sighed. "I suppose I'm obligated to protect my people, as well."

"I'm just down for a good fight," Kenpachi said.

"Then let's get the three of you ready."

---

Momo crashed into Nemu's family room. Mayuri Kurotsuchi was instantly neutralized by a ball of fire. It wasn't enough to kill him. All Momo wanted was to question Nemu why she apologized right before Toushirou blew up.

For the time being, at least.

Nemu cowered beneath a desk as Momo stormed over. Normally, the sight would have made Momo's heart quiver, because she knew what that kind of terror felt like, the icy terror of angry loved ones who you adored with every bit of soul. But family didn't murder their loved ones. Momo was no saint in that department, but she hadn't killed anyone knowing their innocence.

"What the fuck do you know about my brother?" Momo bellowed as she grabbed Nemu and lifted her into the air. "If I don't think you're being honest, I'll hurt you."

"I'm sorry," Nemu wept. "I tried talking him out of it. I know how much Toushirou means to you, but Mayuri refused to listen to me. He said Toushirou is too much of a threat."

"For what?"

"He wants to take over London, and then Europe from there. He's making ghouls for an army. He says making the strongest of the Seireitei into ghouls will increase his manpower several fold."

"You're lying!" Momo snapped. "Demons cannot be made into ghouls. They're a mindless byproduct of our feeding on humans."

"He's a genius. He found a way to splice DNA or something. I got so scared I couldn't hear anymore." Nemu attempted to pry Momo's hand off her neck. "You know what it's like. You know he'll kill me if I try to run away."

"So you fucking killed my family?" In her fit, Momo threw Nemu across the room. She readied a ball of fire. "You never told us a thing. You know Izuru and I would have done anything for you! But you never said anything."

"I'm sorry," Nemu cried. "I didn't want him to hurt me."

Momo faltered. She understood, better than anyone else. She understood, because Sousuke was the same.

"I hate myself for siccing ghouls on Toushirou, but I didn't have any other choice." Nemu stood and hugged Momo. "I love you so much, Momo. I didn't know what to do."

Momo picked Nemu up. She tenderly held her. "I forgive you," she said. "Let's get you out of here, honey. We'll get you help, okay?"

Suddenly, Momo's head exploded with a monumental headache. Blood flowed down their faces. The two toppled to the floor, where Momo saw Mayuri loom over them.

"Get up, Nemu," he ordered, "that's not going to keep her down long."

Nemu stood. Momo may as well have cried with Nemu as they dragged her down a flight of stairs. Momo knew she was bound to be turned into a ghoul like Toushirou, so she wailed, despite how her ears rang.

"Help me," she pleaded. Nemu only cried and apologized between her hyperventilations.

"Help me," Momo pleaded, as they threw her battered body onto a steel gurney. "Please, help me."

Nemu escaped to a chair by the door. Momo's head lolled to the side to watch Mayuri flick a hypodermic needle with his freakish manicure. Inside, a green mass, green like watered grass, swam. Momo could only beg to be let go as he approached with that awful serum.

When he stuck Momo's arm, her entire world crashed around her for the second time in her life.

Momo was murdered and her body enslaved by a sick motherfucker. First her soul, then her body followed. She hoped death would be total that time around as her arm rot at the injection site.

"Come, Nemu, we have other work that needs to be done," Mayuri said. Momo was left with a heavy sense of dread.

And anger. Again, Momo was betrayed by someone who was supposed to love her, it made her a fool, but she was tired of her compassion misused by cruel, selfish bastards.

"Burn," she growled. They all could burn for all she cared.

"Burn." She gushed fire, like a geyer.

"Burn." Her flames touched the plaster ceiling and blackened golf ball sized spots.

"Burn."

Fire, white from rage, burst out of her body, whirled around the room like a typhoon, and blew apart Mayuri's house. Momo pushed rubble off her body. She stung from head to toe from her burns. Nonetheless, the cops were on their way. She had to go.

---

"Karin-chan?"

Masaki sat in front of Karin. In the mirror behind her mother, Karin saw herself as a child again, with short hair mussed from her baseball cap and a band-aid on her cheek and weird, gangly limbs and her adult fangs too big in her mouth.

"Are you okay, my dear?" Masaki asked.

Karin wanted to tell Masaki she died more than a decade ago. But it was like the day before her mother's death. Karin wanted to throw herself into her mother's arms and never let go.

"I'm okay," Karin said. The mirror and the walls bled kanji characters. Kill her, it read.

Karin's heart sank in her stomach.

"I'm gonna take a bath," Karin said.

"Leave the door unlocked," Masaki told her.

Karin dashed upstairs and turned on the bath water. She cursed quietly. What the hell was happening? Where the hell was she, if she was somewhere which demanded her mother's murder?

Was it part of Kisuke's ritual? If so, what the hell was she supposed to do? Was she supposed to kill her mother, or find another way to defeat her and abide by a secret moral of the quest?

Either way, Karin was nauseated. Obviously she wasn't a stranger to murder. She killed many ghouls, had some accidents when she was immature. It was different when it was someone close to her.

The stairs creaked. The back of Karin's neck bristled like an animal alerted to danger. She locked the bathroom door.

How the hell was she supposed to get out of there?

The walls bled murder again. The bathroom door rattled violently. "Karin-chan," it boomed with a perverted rendition of her mother's voice, "I told you not to lock the door! Open up this second!" Karin dug through the vanity. Whoever was on the other side of that door wasn't Karin's mother. Masaki passed away years ago. The Masaki beyond the door was only a nightmare.

Karin popped out the razor blades from one of the fresh razors. She fit them between the fingers of her right hand. Sweat beaded down her neck and stained her shirt.

Gingerly, she reached out to unlock the door, when it splintered. She screamed and backpedalled, only to be pounced on. Blearily, she saw Masaki's hair curtain her from the light above. Drool, foul to the nose, fell on her cheek, and despite the water in her eyes, she made out jagged laniary.

Karin slapped the beast. It reared back thanks to the cut she gave it. Karin rushed past it for the kitchen. She dropped the razors in the sink and picked up their largest knife from its seat in the knife block. The creature topped down the stairs with elongated limbs. Karin saw, with her eyes clear of wood, she doled significant damage to its face.Karin readied her knife as it charged. When it leapt into the air to tackle Karin, it fell onto the knife.

Karin let the beast down. Although winded, Karin cried fresh. Her mother's hair was beautiful.

She tossed the knife into the sink, wiped her hands on her pants, and exited through the front door.

---

Karin popped out of the membrane she floated in. She hoisted herself up, rolled her shoulders, squeezed out the excess fluid in her hair, and sighed.

She felt different. Hungrier.

Karin stumbled through the surreal landscape. Ichigo waited by the door. He wrapped her in a pink shroud.

“I’m so hungry,” Karin mumbled.

“Okay, let’s get you something to eat. Come with me. Let’s get you washed off and something in your stomach.”

Karin’s body felt ill fit. Karin scrubbed herself with all kinds of suds and soaps and perfumes but the feeling didn’t fade.

She stepped out, pressed a towel against her hair, and wrapped it around her torso. Ichigo was outside with sweats, boxers, and a sports bra. She dressed, and when Karin returned outside, he wrapped her waist in a gait belt.

“Kisuke says vertigo will be an issue until you eat. Otherwise, are you okay?” Ichigo asked.

“Yes,” Karin whispered.

“What was it like in there?”

"I don't want to talk about it."

“You had to be the worst of the worst, didn’t you?”

Karin nodded. Ichigo's eyes were straight ahead. He looked sad, and it didn't evoke the sympathy it did before.

“Come on, let’s get you some food.” Ichigo guided her by her gait belt. She did stumble once on their way to the kitchen up a flight of stairs, but otherwise, the trip wasn't anything noteworthy.

She was sat at the island counter in a dim, windowless kitchen. Ururu, Kisuke's daughter, entered a moment later.

"I was hoping you would be the one to make it out. God knows that derelict Kenpachi wouldn't have been very useful."

"I wouldn't say that. I can still feel him in me, his bloodlust," Karin said before Ichigo tossed her a disposable blood package. "He may not be the most cooperative to you, but he'll prove essential in the future."

Tier was quite rational and analytic. She was kind enough to have shared her experience with Karin.

"I've been wondering how exactly these ghouls are increasing in number so quickly. I can't think of any current events that would lead to such a flux of byproducts," Ururu said.

"Geez… you're right. Sousuke Aizen's experiments are almost all dead now. There hasn't been anyone capable of such destruction gone AWOL either," Ichigo chimed.

"Yet," Karin said. "I'm sure we have a mole in our ranks."

"Who do you think it is?" Ururu asked.

"I don't know. All I know is someone knew to sic a ghoul on Toushirou, and they knew exactly where to sic them. He smelled like he took great measures to blend in with humanity. He couldn't have been caught by surprise. And who else would know when and where are ride would come pick us up?"

"Holy shit," Ichigo cursed. "Does your dad know about this?"

"I'm sure he's figured it out."

"So he's using us to find evidence so he doesn't make claims that Yamamoto is gonna say are outlandish."

"That's where my money is, and whoever it is, Urahara knows we'll need something like you, Karin, to stop them," Ururu replied. Her phone vibrated in her shirt pocket. "Just a minute. Urahara and Company, this is Ururu."

Ururu's eyes widened. "Bring Momo here. We'll operate immediately. Thanks, Shuuhei." Ururu clapped her phone shut. "I have to prep the operating room. Looks like we have an unusual situation come up."

"Best of luck," Karin said.

---

Momo was not a happy fucking camper, especially when her body still regenerated. Her favorite fucking coat altogether evaporated too.

All she fucking wanted was to use someone's phone for two seconds to call Izuru.

"Drop your phone. If I have to tell you one more time, I'm gonna fucking burn you," she snarled.

It was a child. They cried like Nemu cried, like a scared kid. Momo had time for guilt after she killed Mayuri.

"Drop. Your phone. I will count to three. I will kill you if I don't have your phone."

The kid tried to run. She pounced and burnt hair filled her nostrils as she bent to pick up their fucking phone. Dumbass kid, she grumbled.

"Baby, I'm really fucked up. I blew myself to shit."

"Momo, oh my God you're alive! Where are you?"

"I don't know," she replied.

"Stay put, baby, we're looking for you. Keep an eye out of Shuuhei's dogs, okay?"

"Izuru, I'm really fucked up."

"Look, we found Toushirou. He's being treated by Urahara. We'll take you there to get fixed up, okay? Just hang in there. Talk to me."

"I didn't mean to worry you." Momo's legs gave out on the grass. "I just got so mad. Nemu sent me a text apologizing right after I heard Toushirou got blown the fuck up." She wept. "Izuru, her and Mayuri are behind the ghoul attacks. He spliced DNA or something. I think he tried to turn me into one. I would've been real fucked if I didn't blow up.”

"You did good, baby. You did so good. Just hang in there. You're gonna be okay. Baby, tell me about your day at work."

"She was crying when he stuck me, you know, with that stupid ghoul DNA. She doesn't know what else to do. Don't be mad with her." Momo's regeneration couldn't keep up. She would expire soon, so she had to make sure Izuru knew everything that happened. "Tell her we still love her."

"No, you have to tell her yourself. Stay awake for us, baby. Tell me about work."

Momo's face was licked by a dog. She stared into it's eight, sweet, soulful eyes. "The only good men are dogs. I missed you, Venom."

"Venom is there? Venom, take her to Kisuke Urahara! Flatworm, feed her a piece of you!"

Flatworm was a Labradoodle-flatworm-dog with the ability of high speed regeneration. If part of its tongue was eaten, the consumer would shave death off for a good hour, and Venom, a rottweiler-spider-shaped dog, coughed up silk and wrapped Momo in it upon Shuuhei's command. It was cool and soft. Momo hummed peacefully and let the darkness of sleep take her.

Momo gratefully swallowed a piece of Flatworm's tongue. She would live for another day.

Izuru and Shuuhei rolled her onto a makeshift gurney they threw together with a canvas drop and a dolly. Izuru held her hand in the back, pleaded with her to stay conscious a minute more. When Momo was rolled out of the truck, they were grey shapes that took her inside and put her beneath a bright light.

Yuzu choked. She futilely attempted to pry her attacker off.

"How cute. You're very cute, Yuzu Kurosaki. Even when you smell like fish, you’re cute."

Addie's body rest upon the stained and rank sheets of her bed. Yuzu couldn't bear to look at the carnage. Not then, not ever. It was as futile as her escape, though. The image was burned into her brain.

"Don't worry, cute little Yuzu. You won't be in pain for much longer."

He brandished a thick syringe. She kicked her legs. As if she could avoid her fate, a cynical part of her thought. Her diluted vampire blood left her defenseless. When it plunged into her neck, she went limp.

"It'll be over soon," he promised her.

It was euphoric and nightmarish. Her arms and her legs went numb, her vision tunneled.

Yuzu realized she was dying.

"I know it's scary, but you can now serve a greater purpose." Her mystery attacker told her as he pet her hair.

Yuzu looked to the young woman who stood silently in the corner. She silently begged to be helped.

The young woman didn't even flinch. She only whispered to herself.

"Nemu, pick her up and let's go," her captor said after he shoved a bag over her head. "We've got things to do."

[bleachmymind]

Chance Meetings: Grimmjow x reader

I’m embarrassed at how long it took for me to finish this. Grimm-kitty is one of my favorite Bleach characters for crying out loud.

**Thank you for this request, anon! I ended up using fem!pronouns just out of habit, but I hope you don’t mind! If this bothers you please let me know and I’ll fix it.**

There he goes again. Hat and Clogs just started another tangent rambling on some soul candy or whatever the hell it was that man sold at that old shop of his. The blue haired espada slouched against the wall of the little building, hoping he was at the right angle to get some air to help him cool off. It was hot that particular day. Of course this was the day Kisuke had asked Grimm to help out in front of the shop with those two brats. It never got this hot in Hueco Mundo. The girl held a broom in her tiny hands, quietly sweeping dust off of the porch with a soft glaze in her eyes, and the boy– the one with red hair– sat against the wall as well. He was tossing a baseball up in the air, frown on his face and sweat dripping down his chin. He hadn’t done much. Maybe he kicked a few rocks out of the way, but that wasn’t really his job. Grimmjow had been asked to carry trash bags to the dump, and that was finished at least an hour ago. This Jinta or whatever hadn’t done anything but nag.

 With an annoyed click of his tongue the arrancar pushed away from the wall and made for the shade under the awning over the entrance. It wasn’t even that busy today. Grimmjow stalked grumpily past the entryway door, grumbling to himself, a pout settled on his lips, when a sweet voice perked his ears. It was gentle and soft, pretty. He leaned in the doorway, curious and searching.

 “An excellent choice, (y/n)-san. One of my favorites, personally.“ The blonde shopkeeper cheered, casually fanning himself with a lazy grin on his features. There was someone else beside him, Grimmjow noted. He took another cautious step forward, careful not to step on any of the loose floorboards he may have forgotten to repair last week, and strained his ears to catch a hint of the customers voice. “Ah, what about this? What does this one do?” The voice asked, just as soft. “Oh, that? That’s an older item. It’s meant to keep unwanted spirits away from your home, and if you purchase the package you’ll get a complimentary pocket sized version!”

 Grimmjow watched, curious, as the girl lifted the charm to her eye-level. She studied it, with a furrowed brow and a focused frown on her pink lips. “Oh, maybe next time.” With a slight tilt of her head, the girl placed the charm back in Urahara’s palm. Her hair spilled over her shoulder as she moved. Grimmjow swore he felt his heart speed up. “Thank you, Urahara-san.” Grimmjow blinked and shook his head vigorously. Seriously, this heat must be been getting to him. The female bowed in thanks to the shop owner as she made her way to the door. He, in return, waved his fan with a lazy smile on his face. “Have a nice afternoon, (y/n)-chan~”

That was the last time he saw her for a while. She didn’t come back to Urahara’s shop. Still, she was stuck in Grimmjow’s head like some kind of parasite. Every time he blinked he saw her figure. Every time the door opened, he would hope to see her walk through it. He hated feeling that way. Like his thoughts were being controlled, and by some puny human girl to boot. His mood would become even more sour than usual when he thought about the effect she had on him. That wasn’t fun for anyone involved in the ex-espada’s daily life.

Grimmjow was out in town the day he saw her again.

Urahara asked him to fetch the new deliveries of merchandise for the shop, and he had agreed begrudgingly. The heavy bags felt like nothing on his broad shoulders. They weighed just enough for him to know they were there. He frowned up at the sun that beat down on his skin as sweat rolled down his neck, muttering an irritated curse. Damn heat. Heat makes everything feel ten times harder.

As he trudged down the sidewalk with two bags of pointless items, he caught a flicker of frantic movement in the corner of his eye. He turned, and what he saw made his eyes widen. It was her. That girl from the shop. And she looked nervous, or maybe even afraid? He couldn’t tell from this distance. Then, not far behind her, he saw two hooded figures slinking in the shadows, their gaze locked on her back.

A prickle of unease spread through his chest. The look in their eyes was predatory, something he was all too familiar with from his years spent out in Hueco Mundo’s deserts. With narrowed eyes he started walking again, every so often glancing over to check on the girl and her whereabouts. The woman was frail looking compared to himself. There’s no way she could put up a fight if those guys decided to attack. Lucky for her, Grimmjow was always ready for a fight.

But then, she turned a corner, leaving the arrancar’s line of sight and escaping the creeps following behind her. Grimmjow sighed. The weight on his back and the blistering heat bearing down on his skin is what prompted him to get moving again.

 The rest of the walk home was mostly peaceful, very little dared to interrupt him as he maneuvered through the throngs of people crowding the streets. He would use shunpo, but that girl was still on his mind, and the dudes following her. There was a steady unease building in his chest and because of that, he decided to walk back. Just as he was beginning to regret it, however, a small, soft form crashed into him. The impact was hardly enough to make him stumble, but the person he bumped into was a different story.

They- she, he realized- had fallen onto her behind as soon as their bodies made contact. The girl clutched her head with her eyes shut tight, tutting in discomfort. Grimmjow sneered. “Oi, watch where you’re going, eh?” His voice must have snapped the girl out of her trance because a second after the irritated question left his lips, her eyes widened and she jumped to her feet.

Grimmjow’s eyes widened. It was her. The girl from the shop, the one who was being stalked by those creeps a few moments prior. With a subtle blush rising on her cheeks, the girl looked over her shoulder. She was paranoid, the arrancar guessed. Who wouldn’t be after being stalked for a half an hour? The girl looked over her shoulder, chest heaving and fists held tight against her chest.

 Grimmjow, who was also looking behind the woman’s back, noticed two shadows lurking beside a fruit cart, predatory gaze set on the two of them. Just as he opened his mouth to ask her if she was alright (something he was told to be normally accepted in society) the girl grabbed his shirt in her small hands and tugged him down to her lips. The sudden motion made the arrancar stumble and drop the packages he held over his shoulders.

 The male pulled back slightly, a fierce, bewildered look on his face. Grimmjow was pretty damn sure this wasn’t something a normal, mentally sane person would do out of nowhere unless, of course, it was a dare or whatever. To say he was surprised would be an understatement. The woman shushed him. “Just go with it,” she hissed, pulling him back to her lips. Now, he was also sure that he shouldn’t be doing this, one, because he was told this could be considered public indecency and two, because he’d been thinking about doing this with this same woman for weeks now.

Said woman pulled him back to her lips hurriedly, desperately, almost. Deciding that if she was going to get so into it, he may as well enjoy this, too. With a slight shrug Grimmjow pulled her body close, hugging his arms tightly around her. Part of couldn’t believe this was happening. Scratch that, no part of him could believe it. This was the girl who had been plaguing his mind for weeks.

 He hadn’t felt anything like it in his life. Her lips were warm, soft and sweet all at once, and he couldn’t make himself pull back again. He took careful notice of the weak energies the two men gave off as she kissed him and waited for them to leave. Although, and he hated to admit it, he hoped they’d never leave. He’d been thinking about this woman for days, weeks, and now he was kissing her in the middle of the street. Hell, he didn’t even know her name. All he’d known about her was what she looked like, how sweet and soft her voice was as she spoke.

 When the men left, rolling their eyes and grumbling to one another, Grimmjow gently (at least as gently as he could) poked her side. Her response was jerking away, stumbling, flustered, and breathless. Her eyes met his, wide and shaking, and she immediately started to apologize.

“I’m so sorry! These people have been following me around all day and I couldn’t find anyway to lose them and then I bumped into you and I just kind of jumped on you and I know it was sudden but–”

“Don’t worry about it,” he grumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He could still taste her on his lips. The sweet, fruity flavor of her lips stuck with him, fogging up his mind. “I noticed them, too. Really fuckin’ creepy.”

She nodded. She fidgeted on the spot, twiddling her thumbs and doing everything in her power to avoid his gaze. Grimmjow tilted his head back. “What’s your name?” His voice came out rougher than he’d intended, if the jerk of her shoulders was anything to go by, but the girl recovered quickly, straightening her back. “M-my name? It’s (y/n).” Her voice was just as soft as the look in her eyes, he noted. “Grimmjow.” He rasped, narrowing his eyes at her.

(y/n) shook herself back into reality. The flustered, upset frown on her face melted into a smile as she looked him over, clasping her hands behind her back. Now that he was this close, Grimmjow was finally able to get a good look at her. She was even prettier than he first thought, and that smile she gave him was so delicate it made his heart flutter.  “Nice to meet you, Grimmjow.”

And in that moment, he could’ve sworn he was in love.