Warriors
A Bleach Fanfic
Summary: Methuselah. A serum created by scientists, meant to make man live longer than any other. But, when the experiments during human trials go astray, the human race is threatened with extinction. Grimmjow, a hunter born from Royal blood goes to the district in Japan, seeking shelter, and a cure. When he meets Ichigo, the cure was forgotten. But Ichigo was hiding a secret. A secret that could destroy the district. And Grimmjow.
Chapter 1
To say he was disgusted was an understatement. Blue eyes watched as glowing eyes stared him down, almost smelling their hunger for his flesh and blood. A katana was placed against his thigh, a larger sword strapped to his back. His hair flowed down his back, pulled into a high ponytail.
He was mocking them with his presence, walking in sunlight, fully vulnerable to any attack.
He stopped walking when a Methuselah darted towards him, his blue eyes narrowing. He pulled his katana from its sheath, a loud screech echoing in his ears. He jumped up into the air, dodging the crazed demon.
He fell to his feet, twisting sharply. Blood stained his sword, a near silent gasp leaving pale lips. Grimmjow opened his eyes, watching as the Methuselah's head fell to the ground and his body started to blister and peel. He smirked, looking to the glowing eyes that continued to watch him.
Slowly they faded into the darkness, Grimmjow wiping some blood off from his cheek. He continued to walk, looking to the fifty foot wall near the center of Japan. He was almost there, a near four days and three nights of walking leading him here. He never rested, he couldn't out in the open.
Stopping to use the restroom was a death sentence.
He stopped when he saw a tank heading his way, sheathing his katana. He let his smirk fall, looking around him to make sure no Methuselah attacked. A few peeked from the shadows, but they had all seemed to learn their lesson.
He grit his teeth.
They were using cognitive thoughts more than he thought they would. They must have been more mutated and advanced in Japan than America.
"State your business here!" The speakers blared on the top of the tank, Grimmjow unsheathing his katana. He heard the clicks of safety being turned off. He dropped his katana to the ground, reaching for the larger sword.
Buraddo.
Blood.
This sword had been by his side since the beginning, Grimmjow almost revolted to place it on the ground. But he needed their trust. They wouldn't hesitate to kill him on the spot and leave his body to be turned.
He put Buraddo down more gently, rising back up with hands in the air. He looked to the tank windows, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"I am Grimmjow Jeagerjaques. I am here with news of a possible cure." He heard the safety being turned off, relaxing slightly when the red beam was taken off his chest.
"Sorry sir, we were informed you would be arriving by ship." Grimmjow lowered his arms, his lips pulling back to show a large shark like grin.
"They weren't too keen on staying long."
Grimmjow's eyes darted to the side sharply from a screech, moving quickly to dodge the Methuselah that tried to tackle him. His katana was once again stained by blood, Grimmjow sighing as it's head fell to the ground.
He needed to clean his katana.
It was a funny thing though. He took this katana from a guard not that far from dock. It was obvious from his severed head that he had forgotten that he could use it.
Grimmjow walked up to the tank, a door opening. A heavily armed man stepped out, his face covered by a mask. He took off his mask, bowing to Grimmjow who had stopped walking to confront him.
Red hair was put up in a high ponytail, tattoo's carved all over his skin. Grimmjow wasn't as decorated with himself, wing like tattoo's beneath each eye. It was a funny thing. Before all of this, he had been a doctor. Now he was a hunter.
But now, most of his coworkers were either turned or dead.
"I am Vice Captain Abarai. Forgive us for our aggressiveness, we do not get many people through this area." Grimmjow smirked, sheathing Buraddo to his back, his katana held at ease at his side.
"There is no need to apologize. Doing your duty is not a crime." The man stood up straight, his gray eyes calm despite the danger that lurked around them.
"Please, come with us." Grimmjow nodded, sheathing his katana. He got into the tank, seeing all of the many other heavily armed men in the tank. They nodded and Grimmjow nodded back, sitting down with a heavy sigh.
"How long have you been walking?" A man asked, his helmet still covering his face. Grimmjow took his katana from its sheath, taking a handkerchief from his pocket.
"Four days, three nights. The methuselah here are more smarter than the ones in District Two," Grimmjow replied, cleaning the blood off from his blade. He frowned when it smudged near the hilt, looking up when a cloth was offered to him.
The man had taken off his helmet, his orange hair spiked up in all directions. His brown eyes were expressionless yet filled with respect, Grimmjow slowly taking the cloth. He nodded, the orange haired man nodding back.
"So, tell the truth, is there an actual cure to the virus?" Grimmjow looked to a small black haired boy, raising an eyebrow.
He looked like he was just used for bait.
"No. Not yet. It's missing an ingredient." The boy frowned, placing his helmet on a rack behind himself. Grimmjow looked back to his katana, cleaning the blood off completely. He would still need to oil it down, there was rust near the edges.
"What's the so called missing ingredient?" The boy asked, his eyes wide with hope. Grimmjow sighed softly, raising his katana and inspecting it.
"Blood from a fire bellied newt."
The boy's interested eyes dimmed, Grimmjow narrowing his eyes slightly. He wanted to say something, and Grimmjow would wait patiently till he talked.
"The last fire bellied newt in Japan was last seen in the Forbidden. No one has ever came back from there." Grimmjow sheathed his sword, the boy jumping slightly from the sudden noise. Grimmjow grinned.
"Everything forbidden is meant to be broken."
The boy blushed, Grimmjow resting back against his seat. He closed his eyes, but he didn't go to sleep. A gun was still being pointed at him, though none of them were willing to admit it.
He was still considered a lethal.
"Professor Granz has been waiting to see you. Is it true you're of Royal blood? That you're immune to the virus?" Grimmjow opened his eyes, looking to the same boy. He almost wanted to duct tape his mouth, the boy obviously there to not make him feel uncomfortable.
A gun was being pointed at his head.
He felt fine.
"Tell me, what is a Royal to you?" Grimmjow asked, the boy blinking in surprise. He was obviously not suspecting Grimmjow to ask him a question, Grimmjow's eyes never leaving the boys.
"A Royal is a man or woman directly descendant from a previous hunter. I heard about your father. He was a hunter legend!" The boy grinned, obviously knowing more than Grimmjow gave him credit for.
"Who told you I was immune to the virus?" He asked, wondering how much he really knew. The boy almost jumped out of his seat.
"To be given a hunter title, each must pass an initiation. Those tattoo's beneath your eyes, the ink was laced the virus. Either you prevailed or you were turned and killed."
Grimmjow smirked, the boy leaning forward in interest.
"If you are immune to the virus, why not use your blood to create a cure?" The boy asked, Grimmjow feeling something weak pull at his chest. A face flashed in his vision, Grimmjow seating back against his side.
Nnoitra.
"We did."
Grimmjow crossed his arms over his chest, the boy looking to Abarai who shook his head. Grimmjow closed his eyes.
"It didn't work."
Grimmjow thought back to his childhood friend, the harsh training they endured together. Even though his father wanted him to be a hunter, Grimmjow didn't want that life. But, Nnoitra did. And like a loyal pet he was experimented on, made to be stronger.
Nnoitra asked him many times to return, but Grimmjow didn't want to. Before the first impact, Grimmjow was disgusted in hunting his own kind. Government underdogs that killed entire families, innocent people who were nothing like the monsters he saw outside today.
But then the first impact happened. That's when Grimmjow was given his brandment, proving he was immune. His father and most of his comrades didn't make it. Then they came up with the idea that his blood was the key.
The last time he saw his childhood friend, his head was lying on the ground, his blood staining Buraddo.
It had all been a nightmare.
"How does it feel, to be back?" The boy asked, Grimmjow looking to him. He looked out the window to the endless destroyed buildings, the many cars crashed or left abandoned.
Grimmjow took in a deep breath, releasing it on a heavy exhale.
"Home is home."
They passed into a tunnel, Grimmjow losing sight of the place he once knew by heart. He closed his eyes again, pressing his chin against his chest. They stopped at a gate surrounded by methuselah, Grimmjow not even opening his eyes when they slammed themselves against the tank, wanting blood.
Grimmjow heard the rounds fired, the screeches dying down. The gate was opened, Grimmjow opening his eyes when he heard everybody stand.
"Rise Royal."
Grimmjow did, his swords taken away from him. He didn't fight even though he wanted to, walking out of the tank. His arm was grabbed, Grimmjow walking calmly as they led him to a circulating machine.
"Forgive us, but even with a Royal we could never be careful." Grimmjow nodded, walking into the machine once it stopped circulating. He closed his eyes, spreading out his arms and legs. He felt a slight shock, his hand twitching to grab his sword.
He heard the needle come from the side, grunting softly when it pierced his neck. He clenched his hands into fists as a serum was poured into his body. The pain was a tad more than he remembered, gritting his teeth when he felt his veins burn.
"Just a few more seconds, sir." Grimmjow didn't reply, his arm twitching from the pain.
"The serum had to be upgraded. You may feel slight discomfort." Grimmjow untensed when the pain went away, slowly lowering his arms.
"You're all clean sir." Grimmjow opened his eyes, feeling the needle leave his skin. He walked out of the machine when it stopped circulating, his swords given back to him. The other men that had been in the tank with him were going through a separate machine like the one he just endured.
Grimmjow looked to Abarai who was out of the heavy armor, instead dressed in basic military clothing. Grimmjow himself felt rather out of place in the lot. He was wearing his traditional hunter outfit, a white hakama adorning his legs. He had replaced the small jacket with a skin tight turtle neck, his arms exposed.
"Follow me. I will take you to your chambers. You will meet with Professor Granz in the morning." Grimmjow nodded, following Abarai across the large room. People stared in awe or disbelief, Grimmjow walking by a soldier in full uniform. Grimmjow was easily a head taller.
"That's a Royal? Looks like a criminal."
"No way! That's a Royal?"
"If I wasn't married right now…"
"Is he really immune?"
Grimmjow stopped walking when a little kid called out to him, looking to the small boy that ran up to him.
"Are you really going to save us?" Grimmjow frowned slightly, lowering down so he was near the boys height. The boy seemed amazed to be so close to him, Grimmjow's lips kicking up into a smile.
"I'll try my best." The boy grinned, running off back to his mother. Grimmjow straightened up, putting a hand on his katana hilt. He looked back to Abarai, the red head smirking.
"Don't make promises you can't keep. We're not sure if the newt is still alive." Grimmjow grinned, making a girl blush madly.
"We'll see, if I come back from the Forbidden."
Abarai nodded, leading him into a hallway separate of what seemed like their docking bay. Those poor people were probably going to try and go to District Two.
It was no better than here.
They would be lucky if they made it past the cemetery.
Grimmjow looked around the hallway they were walking through, lines of portraits of fallen soldiers lining up the walls. His eyes lingered on a portrait of a friend he had once known, Yammy looking as ugly as he did when he was alive.
He sighed, looking over his shoulder when he heard footsteps behind him. The orange haired man was walking behind him, his armor removed. He only wore the standard military uniform, his collar open a little more than it needed to be. His eyes stared straight ahead, not at Grimmjow or the pictures.
Grimmjow looked back to Abarai when he stopped walking, looking to the steel door. Abarai took a key from his pocket, unlocking the door. He handed the key to Grimmjow who took it silently.
"You have your separate toilet and bath. Five uniforms are given to you. Laundry hours are Monday and Friday from nine to six. Any questions?" Grimmjow walked into the relatively small room, the toilet and bath stuffed in a small room next door. His bed was pushed against the wall, just big enough for two people.
Grimmjow took out Buraddo, placing it sideways.
It fit.
"Where is the cafeteria?" He asked, Abarai raising an eyebrow.
"Go all the way down this hallway. There will be two doors colored red." Grimmjow nodded, placing Buraddo against the wall opposite of his bed. He placed his katana next to his bed, reminding himself to clean it.
"Ichigo will stay over night with you to deal with any of your needs." Grimmjow raised an eyebrow as he looked to Abarai who left the room, the orange haired man staying put where he stood by the bathroom.
Grimmjow didn't realise they knew he fancied a taste in men.
Grimmjow sighed, sitting down on his bed and taking off his boots.
"So, Ichigo is it?" He asked as he took off his socks as well, stretching his arms up with a low groan.
"Yes."
Grimmjow relaxed back, placing his hands on the bed. He looked over Ichigo who was finally looking at him, his brown eyes blank.
"Do you often tend to the needs of others?" He asked, Ichigo's expression never changing. Grimmjow wondered if he ever relaxed from the stiff posture he stood in.
"No. They merely assumed I was your type."
Grimmjow nodded in understanding, laying back with a sigh. Ichigo was somewhat close to his type, but the blank stare he kept on giving him was a rather big turn off.
"That's funny. You a virgin?" He asked, Ichigo quiet for a slow second.
"No." Grimmjow grunted softly, sitting up and taking off his shirt. Ichigo didn't tense or relax, just stared at him blankly.
"Do you know how to cut hair?" He asked, Ichigo nodding once.
"Yes sir."
Grimmjow grunted as he stood, taking a pocket knife from his hakama.
"Good, then I guess you are needed for something." Grimmjow flipped it, showing Ichigo its hilt. Ichigo took it without a word, Grimmjow walking into the bathroom. His sink apparently was a small pipe with a knob, Grimmjow sitting down on the toilet, straddling its large base facing away from Ichigo.
"Cut it short, but not too short."
"Yes sir."
Grimmjow sighed, grabbing his wrist before he could touch his hair. Ichigo didn't even react, his eyes remaining calm.
"Call me Grimmjow. I am not your ranking officer or comrade." Ichigo nodded, Grimmjow letting go of his wrist.
"Yes Grimmjow."
Grimmjow closed his eyes as he felt the weight fall, his neck hurting a little bit less. After a long few minutes, Ichigo ran a hand through his hair Grimmjow almost purring from the feeling.
Ichigo pulled his hand away, Grimmjow rising up and moving to look into the mirror. He smirked at the style Ichigo gave him, his hair naturally falling to one side. Some thick strands stood up, his bangs cut so his face was more seen.
Grimmjow liked it.
"Definitely good for something," Grimmjow chuckled, looking to all of his hair that laid on the ground. He turned around, facing Ichigo who walked up to him. He handed him the knife, Grimmjow smirking slightly.
"Your welcome."
Grimmjow leaned forward, stopping right before their lips could touch. He looked into Ichigo's eyes, his smirk stretching into a grin. He moved away, heading back towards his bed.
"You may go."
Ichigo walked into his room, Grimmjow smirking when he let his uniform shirt fall to the ground.
"I'm here to serve your needs, Grimmjow."
Grimmjow stood up, walking up to him. He wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling Ichigo against his body. He was satisfied with the small gasp that escaped from his lips, looking into his eyes.
"I gave you a chance to leave, Ichigo. You can't run away now." Ichigo kissed him, Grimmjow sliding his hand down to his ass. Ichigo pulled away from the kiss with a small moan, Grimmjow pulling him closer by his ass.
He liked this.
Author's note: Methuselah was the longest living man in history, living to be over five hundred.