Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach and the song used in this.
A/N: The lines in bold font are Grimmjow's dialogs. Set in the Final Arc—assuming Grimmjow and some other Espada are with Kisuke, Chad and Inoue. Unedited; perhaps full of errors.
…
The damned quack is practically the one who gives orders around here. He says his name is Urahara Kisuke and claims he'll point me to where Kurosaki is once I'm done engaging myself with his hocus pocus. That's the deal. In short; I'm this bastard's slave for now… along with fucking Quinto, his sidekick Tesla, and the Tres Bestias. But then Kisuke ain't so dim after all, because he has just tossed a bottle of something at Quinto.
"Dafuq is this?" Nnoitora asks.
"Booze. You guys may need it to calm your nerves before we battle the Quincies."
Kisuke is just the type who never bothers with specifics, so when Nnoitora opens his mouth to maybe express his imbecilic notions, Kisuke responds by throwing a stack of paper cups at us. And what choice do we have? We uncork the damned bottle of whiskey, and before long the three chicks and Tesla are chugging down heroic quantities of the liquor. At first, I thought it was lame to mingle with these low-grade specimens, but then the alternative of sitting down with Quinto and enduring his antics will no doubt take this shit from 'lame' to 'lamentable'. This then leaves me no other option but to try to get drunk enough, so as not to hear Nnoitora's shitty oration.
…
Upon waking up, I find that my head is aching like a bastard. This simply means Quinto's yapping must've been so severely unbearable I had to drink myself within inches of death in order to escape it.
"Oh, you're up. Well, get over your hangover for now and then we'll march off." Sado Yasutora tells me.
I sit up, look around me, to learn everyone else is wide awake. Entirely sober, for fuck's sake. For some reason, the sight of the other Arrancar, all in their neat attire as if nothing wild has happened some twelve hours ago, is annoying the living shit out of me. Come on, wasn't it only last night when everyone apart from myself was stoning his/herself witless? And now I am the one who has a hangover? Jesus. If most Arrancar handle their alcohol like humans handle water, screw it, we fucking deserve extinction. I mean…just what exactly happened last night? I can't remember one horseshit. The fucking quack must have pulled some grand prank on me and operated on my brain or something. Yep, no other explanation; Kisuke has wiped out my memories of last night.
"Look who's awake. We were all pretty sure you've died of acute intoxication. Wouldn't be a fucking loss, in any case. Anyway, thanks to you and the comic hilarity you demonstrated last night, we would rather sit around for today and gather our fucking wits. I mean, you had Tesla here in stitches. As for me, I've never cracked up that hard in years, Jaegerjaquez. I was practically frothing in the mouth." Nnoitora says.
So. I got wasted. Fine. We all have these self-control issues and it's not always easy to steer clear of them.
"How drunk was I, exactly?" I ask seriously.
Somehow, I'm getting the feeling I ought to brace myself for some sobering truth. I figure I must have either harassed the females in the night prior or have done some idiotic stunts here and there, thereby earning this satisfaction from Jiruga. Well, it could've been worse. But then the ultimate worst is to follow, because Sado says this:
"Well, Grimmjow-san, you kinda said you'd 'fuck Kurosaki Ichigo so hard it's gonna wake people from the dead'. Those were your exact words. That drunk."
He says it all with a straight face. If anyone can be so vocally offensive, and at the same time so calm, that person probably is capable of pulling some grand evil not even Aizen can dream of. As it is, I make a motion to grab the hilt of Pantera, for maybe self-defense because he is clearly evil, after which I ask,
"What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Saying. Fucking. Brat?"
Sado is not able to answer because Jiruga and Tesla have started sniggering like a pack of hyenas. As you can see, I can completely understand that Jiruga is nasty as shit, but why is everyone else joining this carnage by not coming into my defense? Why, you would have to be blind or otherwise have none of your five senses working to not deduce that all these assholes are making fun of me—at least in their fucking minds.
"You also said Kurosaki-kun is so perfect the only thing wrong about him is he's not yours." The Inoue chick pipes up out of nowhere.
Really? These assholes are this intent on pushing me to my limits? Well, that does it. They've just about begged to hear those two words so seldom heard around here: Grind, Pantera. Yes, they are gonna fucking get it—
"It doesn't end there. Kakekekekeke, you said you'd rock his world off its hinges he'll forget his own name." Tesla contributes.
"Why, you fucking piece of trash—"
"—but then you stressed he won't be needing his name anymore anyway because he'd be adapting yours in the near future, so by then he'll be known as Ichigo Jaegerjaquez."
"Say your prayers, filthy little dipshit—"
"—I didn't know you had it in you to be sentimental, Grimmjow. Marriage, really? The boy is seventeen, for crying out loud. The only thing you can gain with that from the human civil law is a statutory rape indictment; definitely not civil union—"
"—Shut yer trap, Kisuke—"
"—Say, Urahara, why did you ever play that stupid Skid Row song anyway? I hate it when grown men sob. There wasn't a need to make Grimmjow cry, was there? " Mila Rose inquires.
Wait, did she just say I was crying? By implying something so heinous, she just about assured me that, equipped with a pair of tits or not, she's a dead Fraccion. Just then Kisuke approaches the stereo at the foot of the pillar. Within seconds a song is heard,
Remember yesterday,
Walking hand in hand,
Love letters in the sands
I remember you.
Dafuq is this song? More importantly, why is there a need to play it? Is this some twisted attempt to make this fucking bullying spree subdued while keeping the tormenting hardcore? I mean, their sadistic tendencies go as far as trying to kill me with these atrocious accusations, right?
"Will you fucking shut that shitty tune off?"
"You're calling it shitty? You were wailing the lyrics last night. I couldn't call what you were doing 'singing', by the way, what with the genuine tears and all."
"I will fucking soap that lying mouth until nothing remains of it, Apache. Mark my fucking words."
"I'm only telling the truth."
"Fuck you. Why the hell would I sing this sentimental garbage, pray tell?"
"Why, you ask? You were reminiscing the first time you and the Shinigami kid first held hands." Sun-Sun's face is as blank as her fucking words are meaningless.
Remember yesterday,
Walking hand in hand,
"You lying bunch of cows! When did I ever hold hands with that shitstain?"
"Beats me." Tres Bestias say in unison.
"Yeah, our thoughts precisely. You were probably dreaming big 'cos Kurosaki-kun would never do that." Kisuke barreled.
It takes all the strength of my soul to refrain from decapitating the fucking quack. Me, fantasizing over something as petty as holding that brat's hand? Spare me, damn it; my dreams are made of much more than that. And then they aren't done yet because,
"I think I know what Grimmjow-san was referring to last night. Most likely, it was that time when Kurosaki-kun defeated him in his Resurreccion form in midair. And then Grimmjow-san lost consciousness so Kurosaki-kun had to prevent him from falling hard on the ground by grabbing his wrist. It was so nice of him. As far as I can tell, we all can consider that as a form of holding hands. So sweet; I wish you guys had witnessed it." Inoue explains with what probably is delight. Fucking fangirl. Maybe she's so delighted by the fact that I am barely an inch from either committing genocide or suicide. What with her twisted mind, that might just be the loveliest thing to happen, I suppose.
Just what in bloody hell is happening here? I woke up this morning, with a heavy headache, and then all eight assholes I have for companions started to think it's funny to be the bane of my existence. For no apparent reason. Really, these jackasses are taking bullying to a whole new level, I fucking swear.
"Hey, can't we all agree to skip the boring parts of last night's show? Can anyone remember what this moron was saying about deep throat? He said he'd force his dick down the kid's throat until someone screams 'enough'—"
"—What the fuck was that, you fucking Mantis? Bring out Santa Teresa now, after which we get to decide who gets to be vulgar—"
"—But wait; I ain't fucking done talking yet, Grimmjow. And stop lecturing me about vulgarity. If you remembered everything you've yapped about last night you'd be eating your words from here on out until the end of, like, fucking forever."
"Oh yeah? How about we settle this baloney by combat—"
"—I said, lemme finish yapping. You see, not long after your blowjob narrative did you start talking about starting a family. So, aside from your lifelong dream of demolishing Kurosaki's virginity, we are now pretty much aware of your other hopes and aspirations. We just wish you'll make a good father in the future, except that one of you will have to undergo vaginoplasty."
The snickering that follows is enough to jolt anyone from Aizen's illusions, and that's him using Ban Kai. No shit. Is there no end to this anguish? Granted half of these jackasses have been telling the truth, how can someone be so wasted as to forget his own humanity, as was my alleged state last night? This all leads me to full circle and to conclude this is nothing short of pure, unadulterated bullshit. So I stand up, not really trying to catch these bastards off-guard but only taking the next logical step by unsheathing Pantera, when someone lays a cold, gentle hand on the back of my palm. I turn around, to find the last person I expect to see standing behind me.
Ulquiorra Cifer.
"The hell is the meaning of this? You're still alive? Who the fuck brought this useless prick back to life?" Bewildered, I glance at the people around me, finding myself as the odd one out.
It appears I'm the only one who's boggled shitless by this bastard's sudden appearance. Trying to read his reiatsu, I realize this is really Cuatro Espada. And now nothing here remains a joke. This dude is a bona fide asshole. As a result, we'd all sooner drop dead before anything favorable should happen—what with this sadistic son of a gun around. But Kisuke speaks, his voice eerily calm,
"The answer is simple. That said, let's head back to your first question, Grimmjow-kun; you were asking how wasted you were last night, right? Well, let's just say you were drunk enough to suggest you can deliver sexual thrill which can utterly bring the dead back to life."
"So? What's that got to do with fucking Cuatro here?"
Jiruga and Tesla are practically on their knees, their palms pressed against their mouths, the fits of laughter issuing from them unbearable. Really, the only thing that's keeping me from swinging Pantera at them is my wish to keep a clear distance from them rabid jerks, lest I end up completely bereft of sanity, or anything resembling it.
"Wait, Shinigami, leave the explaining to me." Jiruga finally proposes upon recovering. At this point, Ulquiorra has withdrawn his hand from mine. Quinto resumes, with a nearly maniacal amusement, "Grimmjow, the thing is, I asked for a demo—of your bringing-the-dead-back-to-life-with-sex talent. Kakekeke. And then, stoned as you were, you jacked yourself off, obediently."
Kill me.
I don't normally take offense from smartass drivels and lesser still do I waste spit on them. But this is just fucking plain oppression, like seven circles of hell times infinity. So I fortify myself, wondering what manner of violence is suitable for the situation, when Tesla rejoins,
"To your credit, the shit worked. It now only remains to be seen whether Kurosaki shall find your service as thrilling as you find it or not."
"Tesla, I will rip you in half as bad as how the Shinigami did you in if you don't stitch that goddamned dumpsite you have for a fucking mouth. Do you trashes hear me? Quit this or I'll blast each and every one of your asses to the next hell and beyond. That's a freaking promise."
"You are right. This has gone long enough." Ulquiorra intervenes. This is the first time he's said something that does not annoy the crap out of me. He then turns to me, "Sexta, I won't let you gain the satisfaction of believing you have resurrected me. To be clear, Inoue Orihime was the one who revived me, but…"
"Just spit it out, ya dumb fuck."
"I was basically unconscious at the beginning of the process. And then in the depths of my slumber I heard you screaming Kurosaki Ichigo's name in what probably was extreme pleasure, as implied by Jiruga. Surprisingly, that was enough to wake me up entirely. Maybe I owe you a little, after all. So if I were you, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, I'd stop pretending about wanting a rematch with the boy to kick his ass bloody this time around. A piece of advice: proposition him already. Like, offer sexual intercourse straight-out, no holds barred."
One more tormentor into the bargain. Just great. To top things off, now I'm hearing Kisuke speaking to the Inoue chick about reviving Coyote Starrk. While alive, the bastard rarely participated in anything that involved talking, but because I have shit for luck, I might as well assume he'll be using what good is being Primera Espada to add to my present torment. No doubt about it. Jesus. Aren't nine enough? Sure as hell, these nine hoodlums are gonna be the death of me. All because Urahara Kisuke thought it fit to hand out booze on the fucking onset.
Are you reading this, Kurosaki? Rescue me from these assholes, for fuck's sake… er, yeah; literally for the sake of fucking.
END