Title: Life in Bruises
Pairing: Grimmjow x Ichigo mainly, some Aizen x Ichigo thrown in, other characters have romance.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, I didn't make it, and I won't make any money from this.
Synopsis: AU. Kurosaki Ichigo is an up and coming martial artist who finds himself in the company of the greatest collegiate fighters Japan has to offer, including: his dangerous captain Nnoitra Jiruga, violent and possessive rival Grimmjow, stubborn friend Abarai Renji, the unnerving Gin Ichimaru, and the mysterious Aizen Sosuke. Finally in the "wide world" of University, he deals with professional and private jealousies, slightly insane acquaintances, friendship, sex and love.
Okay. I did a little research on Japanese universities to pair the characters with reasonable schools. I may be completely wrong.
As far as I have decided, what they practice here is some kind of Kung Fu, and since this is AU, Kung Fu is the Hip Thing to Do. The heart of the story lies in the characters though, and not in the names of kicks and punches. (And kicking ass in school sanctioned competitions that have suspiciously few rules.)
Life in Bruises - Chapter 1
Kurosaki Isshin unceremoniously dropped two boxes on the floor and put his hands on his hips as he surveyed the tiny dorm room.
"Amazing! A great environment for learning. I think you'll do well here, Ichigo," he said proudly. Ichigo rubbed his forehead in exasperation. His father hadn't stopped gushing the entire car ride and had been entirely too friendly to his future classmates. He could only hope that he would disappear before his roommate showed up and thought craziness ran in the family.
"Okay, you can go now. Everything's here and I can unpack by myself," he told him crossly while placing a standing lamp near his desk.
"Nonsense son! I want to meet your roommate, and we haven't finished our tearful goodbye yet!" Isshin's face became the picture of sadness and the redhead grimaced.
"Dad, if you don't leave now, I'm not going to answer your calls for two months and I won't tell you when my matches are. Got it?"
"You wound me! At least... one last bout with your dear old da before you start your journey into adulthood?" Goatface, being at least slightly insane, had conducted regular attacks on Ichigo for the past ten years, but the boy wasn't having it today. He pushed his father out of the room and halfway down the hallway, and with a deeper grimace than usual told him,
"Go, go! I'll be fine dammit!" He turned and walked away without looking back. The fighter practically collapsed on his futon before noticing the slender boy in the room, arranging a meticulously neat desk. He turned and pushed up his glasses before extending his hand for a shake. Ichigo swallowed. Shit. He's pretty.
"Ishida Uryuu. Keep the room neat, don't let your sweaty, nasty gi stink up the room, don't let your food mold evolve into sentient creatures, don't let your friends get too comfortable here and don't bother me when I study."
...That will no longer be a problem.
THE KYOTO U-NIVERSE
Monthly Athlete Spotlight:
The scowling, redheaded and charismatic Kurosaki Ichigo was a freshman in high school when he lost the semi-final match and half a tooth in the National Martial Arts Tournament's youth division. He was a sophomore when he narrowly lost the championship match to a senior with a scholarship in the sport. In his junior year he won all of his matches in club and school, including the championship. (Except for one that he lost by default, after having a severe allergic reaction to a dandelion bouquet that his little sister thoughtfully picked for him.) By his senior year Kurosaki was the king of fighters, and this strange-haired warrior was un-defeated and awarded a full ride to our very own Kyoto University.
As the season's first tournament draws near, expectations are high for this fighting prodigy and the pressure is on for him to continue his illustrious career at the next level. The Kyoto University Martial Arts team's head coach, Urahara Kisuke, says the coaching staff isn't worried.
"Kurosaki's a hard worker- we already see him at the same level as some of our much older boys. I think some of them are even afraid of him!" he laughed with a snap of his trademark fan, while his assistant coach Shihoin Yoruichi stood off to the side, looking peeved and slightly embarrassed. Team captain, junior Nnoitra Jiruga, casually mentioned,
"I took fifth overall last year and we had a lot of other guys on the team did well too. I don't think we should give any individual special treatment over the team."
When asked how he felt about his college debut, Kurosaki commented,
"I don't want to talk to you."
BY MURAKAMI AIKO
Ichigo slowed to a walk as he finished the lap and wiped the sweat from his face, breathing heavily. With his first tournament three days away he enjoyed working off his nerves with extra workouts. He would die before he admitted it, but the high pressure to prove he deserved his scholarship and the intense dislike of his teammates, especially Captain Jiruga, was getting to him. They resented the attention he was getting and the fact that this was only his first year irked them even more. Well, fuck'em. I'm gonna be what I am, it's no different than dealing with those bored punks at home.
He did have one friend on the team, fellow freshman Abarai Renji, who either didn't know or didn't care about Kurosaki's reputation. Of course, he was almost as ostracized as Ichigo because of his equally outrageous hair and cocky personality, so the beleaguered athlete wasn't winning any points with that association.
"ICHIGOOO! You owe me another four laps!" Rukia called from the stands as she waved a stopwatch in the air.
"I don't owe you shit, shorty!" He yelled back, and grabbed his ear buds from his pocket and put them in. He had met Kuchiki Rukia after the meeting with the academic-athlete liaison (probably the strangest thing he'd ever heard of) when the petite gymnast had walked up to him and punched him in the arm. Used to that kind of greeting, the two hit it off. Their friendship was a mixture of verbal jibes, a little mischief and comfortable silences that everyone else seemed to find odd. The redhead didn't care; he'd always had strange friends in high school: from hyperactive Keigo, ladies man Mizuiro, temperamental Tatsuki, to his best friend the silent giant Chad.
Almost as soon as he'd started his music a glowering Rukia yanked his headphones out.
"Who are you calling shorty, hooligan?" She asked while suppressing a smile. "When I say run, you say 'how much?' When I say jump, you say..." Ichigo rolled his eyes.
"How high," he answered in a bored tone, and then smirked. "I wonder if anyone else knows you're secretly a dominatrix..."
"Ha ha," she said sourly. "See if I help you train again, hoodlum. I suppose I've already paid you back for that, though..." Rukia trailed off thoughtfully, and he looked at her suspiciously.
"What does that-" A hand ruffled his hair rudely.
"Hey punks!" Said a rabidly grinning Renji, dressed for a workout. "What a romantic date you're on," he said with a slight edge to his voice. Ichigo held back the urge to roll his eyes again; Renji had developed a crush on Rukia almost immediately. Abarai still couldn't decide how suspicious he should be when the two were alone, despite Ichigo's assurance that there was nothing like that between them.
"Oh yeah," he replied in a monotone, "I take all the chicks here, so they'll fall to my manly charms when I get sweaty and smelly. Moron," he finished and cuffed him across the head.
"He's totally getting laid tonight," Rukia said confidently, making the true redhead stare. She did roll her eyes, before punching him in the arm. "Don't be stupid Renji. Now both of you, run, or Urahara-sensei will know you didn't!" What a slave driver, Ichigo thought as he started on the track again, this time next to Renji. But it's good to have these two around.
Way too early in the morning, wearing his dark blue and white warm-up suit with his bag slung over his shoulder, Ichigo strode into the tournament venue. He looked around with interest; the atmosphere was buzzing and much more purposeful than his high school tournaments had been. There were people everywhere: parents, fans, judges, student reporters, and other teams. Renji had to pull him along to stop him from gawking. Urahara-sensei led them to their own area to warm up and stretch.
"Preparation, preparation!" he yelled energetically. "I don't want anyone going out there cold, and if you hurt yourself I'll know why, " he finished icily, and most of the team shuddered. Ichigo eyed him shrewdly while practicing a few kicks and punches. The rare times when their coach went serious were frightening. Almost as scary as Yoruichi-sensei. Except only a few of them have gotten private lessons from either of them, and I can testify that they're both more serious and ruthless then than they've ever been with the team.
"GET OFF YOUR ASS!" the dark-skinned coach yelled, and put her foot on the back of a student still putting on his shoes. "I didn't train you to be lazy sloths! I'm expecting results from all of you, but a few in particular, and you know who you are!" Captain Jiruga grinned at that, and Ichigo scowled. Captain Jiruga was always venomous, but there was something sinuous and awful in his fighting style that made the redhead like him even less.
Still obsessed with looking around, the teen's eyes strayed into the main area, picking out who he thought might be a good opponent. For a while no one in particular stood out, and then Kurosaki's jaw dropped. There was an imposing, solid man in uniform with shocking light blue hair and a sneer. The redhead thought in the past few years he'd done enough growing to be called a man... but that was a man. Which was a stupid thought that he tried to banish from his mind as quickly as possible.
"Scary, iddn'e?" Renji asked, and Ichigo jumped. "I heard some Waseda guys talking about him. They said he's been somewhere in Europe his first two years of school, and won a bunch of medals'n'shit there. Now he's here going to that private school Ritsumeikan and kickin' everybody's ass," he rattled off with extravagant hand gestures.
"Oh? What's the asshole's name?" He asked, because in spite of the fact that Ichigo was still admiring him, he did look like an asshole.
"Uh, Grimmjow...Jaygersomething weird. Maybe he's from Germany and his family makes Jagermeister," Abarai hypothesized. Kurosaki stared.
"...Don't be stupid, of course his family doesn't make Jagermeister," he told him caustically.
"Don't call me stupid, asshole!" Renji scowled at him.
"Don't call me an asshole, stupid!" Ichigo shot back.
"I'm gonna shove my fist so far up-"
"Abarai! Kurosaki!" Yoruichi called lazily, and they both looked vaguely contrite but mostly disgruntled. "You can beat each other up after you've beaten up everyone else, okay?"
"Yes sensei," they both responded, and stayed silent until she walked away.
"I hope Grimmjow's in your bracket," Renji muttered.
"Don't be so bitter," he replied with a smirk. "I'm sure I'd kick his ass anyway," he said, sparing one last glance at his new possible rival.
In too little time, Ichigo stood just outside the mat, minutes away from his first match. He jumped a few times and shook out his arms, psyching himself up. Nnoitra walked up next to him, playing perfectly the role of a Captain helping his new teammate get ready. Of course, what he's gonna do is drip poison, he thought with disgust. People like him fed off others' pain.
"Nervous, pussy?" The captain asked with a grin.
"Fuck off, Jiruga," Kurosaki replied, grimacing while stretching.
"That's Captain Jiruga, freshman," he said darkly, leaning in uncomfortably close.
"With all due respect captain, eat shit," he said calmly, though still wearing his trademark scowl.
"I'm glad you said that Kurosaki. 'Cause now your freak-haired, cocky ass is going down and I've got a great reason to teach you a lesson," Nnoitra told him quietly, then clapped his hand on his shoulder with another grin. "I'm sure you won't choke," he whispered and walked away.
Of course I won't choke. I haven't had a challenge in over two years.
Okay, maybe he was feeling cocky at that point, grinning like mad after winning two matches with ease. Winning his next match meant Ichigo was in the quarterfinals, and he wasn't expecting anything tough until the semi-finals. Luckily Nnoitra was in the other bracket, so if he did well enough he could drop the captain on his ass in the final match. He felt focused and sure.
A grim-faced Renji walking towards him gave an inkling that he might not stay that way.
"You lose or something?" Ichigo asked in what he liked to think of as a sympathetic-but-manly way. His teammate shook his head. "Then who died?"
"I didn't mean it when I said it, y'know," he muttered while scratching his head sheepishly.
"I had a hunch you didn't want to shove your fist up my ass, I'm glad it wasn't a vain hope," Kurosaki told him sarcastically.
"Not that! I mean... Your next fight. It's Grimmjow Jeagerjacques and he just KOed his last opponent," Renji let him know, his voice serious. Ichigo regarded him. He'd thought that if this happened, he might feel nervous or unsure of himself. Instead he was filled with a new energy; he was calmly excited. There's no chance I can't do this.
"Relax. I know I've got this," he told him with sincerity.
"What? You can't know that, you haven't even seen him fight, Ichigo," Abarai told him sternly, serious in the way that he only got about fighting.
"Well, he hasn't seen me fight either, Renji," he answered with a grin. "So just keep the faith and watch if you get the chance." His friend still looked worried, but he couldn't let himself think about it.
Twenty minutes later Kurosaki Ichigo was standing outside the mat again, observing his opponent Grimmjow Jeagerjacques. Closer now, Ichigo could tell his eyes were an even more vibrant shade of blue than his hair. Grimmjow turned and seemed to notice Ichigo for the first time; he looked him up and down, slowly enough that the redhead felt a strange sensation following his gaze. A teammate murmured something to the blue-haired fighter, and he looked back at Ichigo and let out a laugh. Kurosaki clenched his jaw and looked away. His blood was boiling, how dare he dismiss me.
"Don't worry kid, I won't kill ya!" the fighter catcalled. "S'against the rules after all!" Ichigo stayed silent. He didn't want to give the asshole the satisfaction of provoking him. Grimmjow walked closer to him wearing a smirk. "Accidents do happen though," he drawled, " bound to occur when they let in fragile young things like yourself." Pride pricked, Ichigo took a careful breath before looking at Jeagerjacques.
"I'm eighteen," he informed him while his scowl deepened.
"Oh, well you don't look a day over 16 if you were worried about showin' your age," he said while studying Kurosaki, knowing he was needling him but not truly stoking his temper. So he took it a step further. "What's funny is that I know a bit about who ya are, and everyone is gonna take your loss today as a clear as day sign that you're a fluke. A flash a' brilliance that faded right outta high school, but most importantly, a failed investment," he told him confidently, as though he knew the absolute truth of the matter. His tone made anger fizzle hot just beneath Ichigo's skin, flushing his cheeks. What Grimmjow had said shouldn't have affected him this much, but he was flaring with anger in a way he couldn't remember experiencing before.
"Don't act like you're going to win," he spat out venomously. Jeagerjacques' grin deepened; it held a hint of something dark and ugly now.
"Baby has a temper?" He taunted and finally Ichigo turned to face him.
"Listen you son of a bitch, you're underestimating me and you'll pay for it in the match. I'm gonna kick your ass six ways from Sunday," he snarled. Grimmjow laughed for seconds that seemed to last forever.
"Try me. You're mine, prick, an' you'll see that soon enough," he said, and walked away still wearing that vicious grin. The redhead felt an urge to go after him right then, but they were about two seconds away from a citation for unsportsmanlike conduct if the burning look from the official meant anything. So he shook the feeling off and stepped onto the mat across from Jeagerjacques. They couldn't say anything to each other, but Grimmjow's smirk could drive anyone to kill, and Ichigo's look could do it. They bowed to each other, and the fight began.
The strange fighter from Europe wasted no time in launching a kick at Ichigo's head. He ducked and pivoted to return a kick at Grimmjow's side, which hit and seemed not to affect him at all. They exchanged punches, blocks and kicks, but there was a major difference between them that made the teen's nerves rise. When his attacks landed Jeagerjacques seemed to barely feel it; when he attacked Ichigo, Ichigo felt like he'd been smashed into a brick wall. Their speed increased, cutting the time to read each other's moves down to a fraction. Every moment, more and more, Kurosaki felt like he was fighting for his life. The audience around them grew, quiet with fascination. He blocked mid-level kick with his leg then leapt up and clipped Grimmjow's chin with another kick, the hit giving him a thrill.Two years of no challenges, now I'm thrown into the fire and...A fist connected with his jaw. The redhead punched back but Grimmjow grabbed his arm and threw him over his head onto the floor, and he swore as the breath left his body. Fuck! Rolling to his feet, he blocked his opponent's punch with crossed arms and pushed him back. Another punch and Ichigo moved to avoid it, but he didn't know it was a feint until a foot crashed against his head.
