A/N: This has been a collaborative effort between me – Love Psycho – and the wonderful and awesome Cuzosu. Look her up, seriously, she's great. Especially for offering to help with this when I confessed to having trouble by myself and was considering looking for a collab partner. I adored writing Ichigo personally, but that's no surprise – he's my favourite. I had a good time with Grimmjow as well, surprisingly. He's not the kind of character I've had practise writing before...
Cuzosu: I found Gin most entertaining to write. His character's complex, convoluted and really amusing. Writing his scene with him looking over my shoulder was very interesting as well. He had all sorts of snide comments and kept making me laugh.
This is an interesting brain child of mine – not everything is going to be explained quite yet but...there are Hollows/Arrancar that switch gender, called Switchers. And Grimmjow happens to be one of them...and Aizen finding out would be a VERY bad idea. But when would it not be?
We hope you enjoy! LP did the first, second and fifth scene. The third, fourth, sixth, and seventh come from Cuzosu. She got one more because she added one...it was a good one though, so I'm totally a-okay. We edited each others bits at points, so there isn't any contradictions in between.
Edit 21/09/2012
-start-
What To Do About Blue
Nothing Is White And Black
The persistent headache he'd had since this morning was a warning sign that he dared not ignore. He had held off as long as he could; Aizen had come for one of his visits and all the Espada had had to come to the meeting called.
This time it had been a little more serious – a rearrangement of Espada levels. Not much, but everyone had dropped and one of them had to be killed when he "protested" his ejection from the Espada.
Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez scowled and paced down the white hallways, hands in the pockets of his hakama. Aside from the headache, he had that ache in his lower back which came from his Espada marking changing. He was now Espada Sexta, the sixth in power level. A new Primera had been chosen – some brown haired lazy guy who smelled of wolf and power and kept a bratty female midget.
He didn't know what to think about it. Sure, he had agreed, as had the Pack around him who became his Fracción, to join Aizen and serve him. For Grimmjow, it was for power. For his Fracción, it was to stick close to him, the ever loyal fools. They had been some of the first Arrancar made and only recently had his form been stabilized again, during the visit before today's.
He ignored the soft call of quiet concern from Yylfordt Granz as he past him on his way to his rooms, giving only a short but meaningful glance. Yylfordt immediately knew what he was telling him and used Sonído to head off to inform his other Fracción.
Sure, they were fools. But they were HIS fools; damn the consequences. After all, all of them had helped him rise to his current level and hid and protected him over the centuries. Not that he needed much protecting...
...just only for about a month every twenty years or so. And only a LITTLE, dammit.
He slipped into his room and used his enhanced senses to check to see if Aizen had replaced the bugs. Of course he had. So he carefully searched them out and disposed of them. Aizen did that every time. Never learned that all of his Arrancar, even the truly loyal ones, preferred their privacy.
Then he frowned and checked again, searching through the room carefully. He found a few more well hidden bugs and smashed those. Once he was done, Yylfordt slipped in and did a check himself, after handing over a pile of clothing.
The blond gave him a level glance. "Be careful. I don't believe Aizen-sama will be leaving until a week is up."
Grimmjow snarled at that, but nodded, and Yylfordt slipped away, carrying a few more bugs with him.
Grimmjow settled down on the bed after stripping from his current clothing. It would be easier that way.
Then he let go and hissed as his body shifted and changed, sinew, bone and flesh changing. It wasn't as painful as the first few times it happened. He was old enough that the shift was quick and practically painless.
After a moment he sat up, and stood. Walked over to the full length mirror that Yylfordt had installed for him.
Or, well, her now.
Grimmjow checked her form. Slim, but still muscular, capped by a generous bust and a sharp but sweet face. Her mask remnant was now a slim white band around her forehead, like a coronet of a sort. The signature teal hair of hers now was in a bob haircut, having lengthened slightly during the change. Her stomach was flat and smooth, showing hints of musculature that sprang to life when she clenched it. A deceptive form, hiding the immense strength and speed within a most attractive package.
Her eyes glanced down to follow the teal treasure trail leading straight to her most intimate spot. Then her eyes dropped further, looking at the Hollow hole in her left foot. She still didn't understand why it ended up there. Her eyes were raised back and she turned slightly, peering at her back. No Espada tattoo again, despite it being recently reapplied as it were. She then frowned and whirled away from the mirror. She didn't really understand why Yylfordt had installed the damn looking glass.
Grimmjow still had used it all the times she had changed since becoming an Arrancar though. Probably because as an Adjuchas the change wasn't that obvious and it still surprised her to look in the mirror one day to see a man and another to see a woman.
She walked over to the small vanity and picked up the clothing. She frowned. Last time Yylfordt had managed to get hakama. This time she had to deal with a skirt.
...she hated skirts. Mostly because all the guys seemed to like peeking up them. Assholes. They deserved losing their eyeballs for that.
But Yylfordt had to be cautious about it, so she couldn't be picky.
Switchers weren't well liked in general. And she didn't want to know what Aizen would do if he discovered this "little" thing about one of his Espada.
The halls of Las Noches always felt threatening when Grimmjow was like this. Mostly because the guys outnumbered the girls ten to one and thus most of the assholes would jump damn near anyone.
Unless you were with Harribel, now designated the Tres Espada, you were probably screwed. In any way the guys chose to.
It made Grimmjow hate them really fiercely and the Arrancar population tended to get slightly...damaged...as a result during her lock month. Not that she killed anyone, oh no. That would draw too much attention to Grimmjow's female identity. However, the guys found it hard to do anything when they were missing limbs or eyes. One time she ripped out a guy's tongue, for talking too disrespectfully to her.
Then there was that gang of poor saps who weren't going to be able to "get it up" anymore. Losing one's balls did that.
A hand on her bare shoulder made her turn. She froze as the lecherous eye of Nnoitra Gilga made it's way down her body. This wasn't an opponent she wanted to face. Sure, she could probably win.
But beating an Espada drew Aizen's attention. Baaaaaad idea.
"Well well...what do we have here.." His grin turned into a leer.
Grimmjow cursed the choice of clothing Yylfordt was able to get. She was wearing a mini-skirt that was rather clingy to her skin, and a shoulder bearing halter top that had a wide collar around her neck to hold it up, leaving her back bare except for Panthera's comforting weight. Panthera didn't change with her, so, due to the fact she shrunk a little when she made the change, the Zanpakutō had to be slung over her back to be carried. Add in the heels that made her sway as she walked and she knew exactly what Nnoitra was thinking.
Too bad for him, but he wasn't her type. And never would be, after the last Switcher who...had gotten attached...disappeared. Nnoitra was dirty son of a bitch and Grimmjow prayed for the day she or he would be able to put him down. If only for her lost kin's sake.
"What do you want?" She hissed, shrugging his hand away from her shoulder.
Nnoitra's eye narrowed.
"That ain't sumthin a lowly Números bitch should be sayin'." He stared her down and his grin turned into something that looked it belong to something that was going to eat her. "She should be sayin' 'how do ya want it?' Ain't that right?"
Grimmjow backed up a step and was halted by Nnoitra grabbing a hold of her wrist. She glared. "Let me go."
Her calm voice threw him off momentarily then he sneered. "Or what?"
She was about to reply but was beaten to the punch.
"Or I will have to report to Aizen-sama that, once again, Nnoitra was...picking fights."
Nnoitra turned and growled at the sight of Ulquiorra Cifer, now the Cuartro Espada. He levelled his calm green eyes at him back. Grimmjow took advantage of the distraction to slip out of Nnoitra's grip.
Nnoitra felt her escape and turned to follow. Only to be pushed back by Ulquiorra's finger as with a burst of static he was suddenly in front of him.
As Grimmjow left, she heard a loud growl and the clang of Nnoitra's Zanpakutō hitting Ulquiorra's hand.
She rushed through the halls. Las Noches wasn't safe. Not with Nnoitra noticing her. Not with Aizen in residence.
Time to try the desert.
If there was one thing Grimmjow despised, it was running. And guys who hit on her, of course. But mostly it was running. Especially when she could have kicked ass instead.
So having to flee from Nnoitra instead of beating the asshole into a satisfyingly smushy pulp really galled.
Had she stayed in the desert instead of joining Aizen, then she could have fought Nnoitra—and damn, was that appealing!
She was almost to the gates of Las Noches when Gin Ichimaru – an unpleasant surprise, since Aizen's closest and most sadistic lackey didn't come to Las Noches often due to circumstances in Soul Society – stepped around a corner in front of her. A panicked gasp escaped her as she twisted frantically to avoid running full tilt into him.
The silver haired man paused just long enough to let her around, crooning in a mockingly caring voice, "Li'l thang like ya betta flee fasta, 'f ya don' wanna get caught. Grimm-kitty won' like ya takin' his weapon."
Tearing her eyes off him, she resettled her focus on the path in front of her, relieved he hadn't recognized her.
As she tore out the gate and fled into the desert, she didn't see that ever-present smirk widen behind her.
'This is interestin'...' Gin wasn't positive, but he suspected that the blue haired woman he'd just seen was in reality Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez...and wasn't that just intriguing? He hadn't known Hollows could change genders. And if he hadn't known...did Aizen? 'Nah,'decided the fox-like Shinigami. 'An' I ain't tellin' him. This is gonna be amusin'...'
The desert was a familiar, haunting scene. Empty white sands, the occasional small pond and what scarce "greenery" grew there. Off in the distance, rolling dunes to hide and hunt in. It was a hard land in its way, but—at the same time—very fulfilling.
She knelt down to get a drink, refreshing herself from the little pond she found, and felt something on the edge of her senses.
...Nnoitra. So he'd gotten away from Ulquiorra and was chasing her. Shit.
Rising, she took off, hiding her reiatsu and doing her damnedest to lose him between the dunes. Unfortunately, the bastard had luck on his side this time. Try as she might, Grimmjow just couldn't seem to shake him. He caught up fast, closing on her with a cruel grin. But he wasn't expecting her to step forward flirtatiously and then kick him in the balls.
'Moron.' She fled again, putting on more speed as she went.
But he recovered faster than she'd hoped, probably because of that damn Hierro of his, and was soon tailing her once more. And he was livid; she supposed getting kicked in the balls was more than he'd been prepared for.
When he caught up this time, he didn't bother trying to turn her around, didn't try to swagger in and intimidate her. He doubled up his fist and socked her chin.
That was going to leave a bruise. Grimmjow barely kept from snarling in feline rage, not wanting to give herself away just yet. Not like she was only the only Cat-type Arrancar, but Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez was the only one with blue hair. Instead, she leaped as if to go over him...and slammed a hefty kick into his head from the air. She caught herself on all fours and rolled sideways—very glad she had as soon as a black boot stomped down just where she would have been.
She rose from her knees with a furious uppercut, then wasted no time in taking to her heels again. She suspected he hadn't thought she could fight in heels – most guys didn't. But Grimmjow had made a point of learning, just in case.
No doubt he was swearing vengeance and bloodshed and all sorts of violence, somewhere behind her.
He finally caught up again as she topped a dune and started down the other side—a time which couldn't have been more opportune for him, but which had her cursing vehemently. His lunge took her in the leg, brought her to her knees in the sand.
Biting her lip, the blue haired woman raised a hand to Panthera and resigned herself to revealing her identity as a Switcher to Aizen. If killing this asshole was what it took to keep him off her, then so be it.
She wasn't quite in time to block his next swing—still hadn't adjusted all the way to fighting as a female again. This blow caught her along the ribs, cracking at least two.
But Nnoitra couldn't hear her pained and distinctly feline yowl. He was too busy sticking his tongue out, dancing around agitatedly in the sand, making his own pained noises. None of them quite reached a scream, but that was probably because his tongue was sticking out too far.
There might have been a glow from his Espada tattoo, but Grimmjow wasn't staying around to find out!
Opening a Garganta, she fled once more—to the Human World, one of the few places she was fairly sure he couldn't catch her, even wounded as she was.
When the Garganta closed, drops of water were falling. Grimmjow had never encountered this in Hueco Mundo, where the weather was 100% predictable—the same—and decided to consult her memories for a possible answer.
Somewhere among the formerly human ones, she found a similar memory: standing in the falling water with someone, talking about the weather, calling it 'rain.'
'...oh,' she thought to herself. 'Rain...'
Shaking herself more aware, she crouched on the ground, shivering, to concentrate fully on her wound. 'I need to heal this.'
She didn't notice anyone was there until a voice spoke.
It was raining.
Ichigo scowled and looked up at the overcast sky, feeling the pounding drop hit him, a few getting into an eye that he blinked away. As he dropped his head back down, the rain increased in pressure, if only briefly.
Ichigo hated the rain.
He sighed and wondered how the hell the rain effected his spirit form. His black Shinigami robes – Rukia called them Shihakushō – clung to his form and his hair plastered itself to his skull.
'If I get sick, I am so going to be pissed.' He thought.
He was currently out on patrol. Rukia had told him he didn't need to do it – in fact she seemed to have other thing to do herself, thus her absence from his closet – but Ichigo had insisted. After all, he had run into a few Hollows today already. Nothing big, but getting rid of them was a good idea.
He also had found a few more Plus and done Konsō so that they wouldn't draw any Hollows to them.
Ichigo sighed and considered finding some shelter from the rain – or even going home. As he looked around the street a flash of bright colour caught his eye. He frowned and looked carefully. There was a form of a sort, huddled in an alleyway nearby. Curious, but cautious, Ichigo approached, hand on the hilt of his Zanpakutō.
When he got there he stopped, shocked. It was a girl, looking close to his age from what he could tell. He could sense a spiritual aura to her, one he didn't recognize, that said that she was a spirit. However, she was as solid looking as Rukia looked like before and he did currently.
He stepped closer and then noticed the red staining her white clothing. Blood. She was bleeding, badly.
He crouched down. "Hey." He said softly. "You okay?"
Her head lifted up, pure fear on her features. Her admittedly pretty features – a bit sharp, but her eyes were a beautiful shade of blue that matched her hair and her lips were full. She blinked upon seeing him and tried to get away – something very difficult with the wound she had.
Ichigo lifted his hands up to show he wasn't being threatening. "Hey, it's okay. I won't hurt you." He eyed her further. "You look like you need help." He hesitated then decided to screw it. Rukia can complain all she wanted. He wasn't going to leave anyone in pain.
"Come on. I can get you to safety..." His reached out hand was slapped away.
"Go away, Shinigami." She snarled. Her voice was as deep as Rukia's, though there was a purr to it that made it sexy if Ichigo was to be honest. Her eyes looked at him with something like rage, a bit of hate...and a lot of fear. "I don't need your help."
Ichigo frowned and then snorted. "Like hell you don't. Look, I don't know what you are or what your problem with Shinigami is. I don't care. You need help, so I'm going to give it to you. You can argue all you want, but it would be easier for the both of us if you let me help." He paused. "Besides, I'm a Substitute. Not a real Shinigami."
She blinked. She was surprised. "You...don't know what I am?"
Ichigo shrugged. "Nope. But I'm going to help you anyways."
"Why?"
Her voice seemed a little lost then, and she looked at him as if she had never seen anyone like him. Like no one had ever offered her help for no reason other than to give it before.
It made him want to hit someone – no one should have to deal with things all on their own.
"Because it's the right thing to do. Come on, let me help you up."
This time she accepted his hand, and he lifted her up. She staggered and nearly fell, if it wasn't for Ichigo catching her. He frowned – her leg didn't look good. And there were a few other bruises and cuts on her as well. Her clothing had been damaged, too.
'What happened to her?'
Ichigo didn't ask, seeing the look on her face. Sheer stubbornness. She didn't want help, but was letting him give it because she didn't see another way around it. She wouldn't answer any questions he asked.
Slowly, he helped her limp her way down the street – until he decided to screw it and picked her up, settling her into his arms. She let out a yelp of surprise but after a moment settled down.
He didn't see the look on her face as he carried her away.
It was a strange look, that couldn't decide what to be – happy, angry or even confused.
Ichigo set her down on his bed, told her to wait just a moment, then rummaged in one of his drawers for his first aid kit – one of the perks of having a doctor for a father. Blushing slightly, the Substitute Shinigami asked her to extend her leg so he can treat it.
As soon as the wound came into sight, his blush faded. He pulled out the peroxide, warned her that it was going to hurt, and poured it on the gash.
Pinkened bubbles foamed from the wound for a time, the peroxide cleansing blood as well as cut flesh. Remembering Rukia healing him once or twice, Ichigo had to ask.
"If I hold the edges of the wound closed, can you heal it, or should I pull out the suture kit?"
"I can heal it," she told him.
Her tone came across somewhat haughty, but Ichigo was used to ignoring tempers. Keigo had given him plenty of practice with dramatic emotions.
So he merely squeezed the skin together and held it there while her hands lit up with reiatsu and she placed them over his.
It was an odd sensation. He'd been healed before, but that had been only Rukia and he'd been distracted or it had been a minor wound. So he'd never had the chance to feel healing as done to others.
This energy felt...raw? No, more...it was doing as bidden, but it had...untapped potential. Yes, that felt right. Like it could have gone faster, or...well, Ichigo wasn't entirely sure. He was still pretty new at this.
But...
"You good at healing?" he asked. She didn't strike him as a healer, but maybe that was just her fiesty attitude.
She graced him with a scathing glance that told him no without saying a word.
Which meant she just knew a few healing Kidō, right? Rukia knew them, so it was probably standard.
"My name's Kurosaki Ichigo. What's your name?" he asked. "I can't very well go around calling you 'You' all the time."
Silence.
He sighed. "Well, then, would you mind if I gave you a name?"
She shrugged.
Looking at her, the only name that came to mind was: "Aoi."
Eyes that blue he'd just named her for look at him from under raised brows. "Really? Blue?You can't think of anything else?"
Blushing—and scowling because he knew he was turning red—the young Substitute Shinigami grumbled, "Well, I never said I was good with names; I suck with them, actually. So don't blame me if you still won't give me your real name." He glared.
Her glare turned toward the corner; apparently she still wasn't going to tell him her name. Oh well...
The conversation moved on from there as she got curious over his room. He had no problems explaining anything to her; he was used to doing his best to explain human technology and customs to Rukia. Frankly, Aoi was better than her.
When Rukia came in a few hours later, she raised a brow at Ichigo over the girl in his room but said nothing, only greeted Aoi politely. To Ichigo, it was another test passed. He'd never met a Hollow that could hide what it was from Rukia, thanks to her experience. Too bad Ichigo didn't realize that there were beings that could hide their reiatsu and that Rukia was weaker than either he or she thought.
Conversation wore down, all three getting tired. And when Rukia shut the closet door with an admonishment that he "do nothing Aoi didn't want him to," Ichigo rolled his eyes, pulling a spare set of sheets from a nearby drawer.
"You're the guest; you get the bed, Aoi," he said.
He didn't know that it was the first time anyone except her Pack had been so kind to her. And for them, it was far from completely selfless, unlike Ichigo who did it just because it was the right thing.
In the throne room of Las Noches, a number of Espada stood before Aizen. Gin stood next to the throne, silver hair shining around his amused grin. In this case, amused wasn't much different than malicious because he wasn't particularly fond of Nnoitra—the one in trouble. Aizen could tell whose tattoo had reacted, and he was NOT pleased.
The Quinto tried to scream, a sound that came out more like a broken squall, a baby's cry, than a scream of pain. It was his own fault for getting the tattoo on his tongue. He would get no pity from Ichimaru Gin.
Ulquiorra claimed to know what had happened, which Gin found particularly interesting because he hadn't passed the Cuartro Espada on his way back to the depths of the castle...and unless the green eyed man had flown, there was only one way out. So either Ulquiorra had sought solitude, or he'd been unaccountably nosy and was now interfering to keep punishment from falling on a certain absent Sexta. And that...that was interesting indeed...
Nnoitra's pained, strangled scream brought Gin out of his musing. It was quite a pleasant sight, really; that long tongue was out, hands flying about, trying to find a way to ease the pain, but each touch wrought only more torment.
As those tortured sounds overwhelmed the calm cadence of the Cuartro's voice another time, Aizen frowned. He didn't want to stop the punishment—it was justified—but he was trying to listen to a reliable account of the incident in question.
Luckily, Gin had the perfect solution.
"Think I get what's goin' on here, Aizen-taichō," he said, smiling incessantly. Not that there was anything new about that. "Want ta send th' Quinto to a cell in th' Cuartro's care? Pretty sure I can tell ya what happened; I was walkin' back this way when they left."
Those piercing eyes assessed him for a moment, but Gin was unfazed. Aizen had been his taichō for longer than Seireitei figured. And he'd always been able to obscure the truth when he wanted to.
"Very well." Aizen's gaze flicked to the Cuartro, then to the Quinto, and then to the door.
Ulquiorra bowed, careful to show respect. Sometimes shows of respect were all that kept Switchers safe. Especially around Aizen-sama. And then he uncaringly seized his fellow Espada by the hair and hauled him bodily along the corridors.
Nnoitra attempted to swear and curse at the Cuartro, but merely made his tongue hurt worse. His whimpers as he left were balm to Gin's ears—and maybe particularly to Ulquiorra's.
The ruler of Las Noches waited until the door shut behind his followers before turning to the man who had followed him longest. "Ulquiorra claims it was a fight. Do you agree?"
"Yeah, fairly sure," agreed the silver haired man. "Saw an Arrancar racin' off to th' desert with Grimm-kitty's Panthera, then Grimmjow rushed past t' chase 'er, an' Nnoitra...I think he was chasin' th' girl, not Grimmjow, but I dunno."
"I see..." There was silence as Aizen pondered this information.
Gin was carefully indifferent. He'd learned long ago that he got results more like what he wanted that way...at least in situations like this.
Aizen waved a hand at the room. "The Espada are dismissed. Gin, I'll leave Nnoitra to you for now."
"Gotcha, taichō," affirmed the smiling man. He bowed and exited the room as well, heading down to the dungeons.
Surely Ulquiorra was smart enough to take his chance and...warn...the Quinto what would happen if he were to wag his tongue about a certain blue haired female absconding with Panthera, right? Well, if he wasn't, that's not Gin's problem, really, though it was certainly an interesting situation.
He walked past Ulquiorra in the halls just outside the dungeon, nodded affably, and shut the door behind him. There was no need to lock it; entering the dungeons without Aizen's permission carried with it quite the penalty.
As he reached the Quinto's cell, Gin saw the look on Nnoitra's face. He'd sworn vengeance, which meant Ulquiorra had done exactly what the silver haired man wanted. If he were the gloating kind, he might lord it over the imprisoned Nnoitra. But he wasn't, and he wouldn't, because sooner or later Nnoitra would be released to carry out Aizen's orders, and then Gin wouldn't have such a luxury as free speech.
Still, as he pulled implements out of drawers and off walls, he let his smile turn sharper at the corners, let a bit of that smugness into his voice. He let his tone alone say that he was laughing at Nnoitra for displeasing Aizen and becoming his own temporary play thing, because he knew that it would be salt in open wounds.
In the end, he was pretty sure that the Quinto swore vengeance on two people that night. And he was also fairly certain the vow would be equally ineffective on both...
-tbc-
A/N: Finished! For now. Next chapter should be coming up soon...ish. We hope you enjoyed the beginning of our fic!
Magic cupcakes for the reviewers! -edges away from Cuzosu who is drooling- ...fine, you get some too. Save some for the reviewers though! -grabs own cupcake after a moment of thought- Reviews mean love!
~Love Psycho
& Cuzosu
Out for now.
