Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach; Kubo Tite does, the genius that he is.
A/N: This is pointless, I assure you.
...
To start with, all of this is plainly laughable. That man is a fiend, a destroyer, a monster, a moron, a retard, a villain, a charmer…no. Nah-ah. Ichigo can barely contain his vexation in his struggle to designate appropriate names on a certain someone who happens to be assigned to his guidance. This certainly is a joke and will remain so even after he finds his body roaming beneath the goddamn soil. He can't quite shoot a decent guess why his former nemesis ended up one day trailing his behind, rather the whole of him, docilely, as if he couldn't conduct more originality than copying someone else's route.
But then he remembers. Grimmjow Jaggerjack, for some sick prank of destiny, is now under his goddamn care, for crying out loud. So disconcerting was the arrangement, when he first heard it, that even to this day he can't quite recall who brought him the merry news. That being the case, just what is the point of finding out anyway? Whoever assigned him to such a position was clearly an unscrupulous figure of authority for, had it been otherwise, he would've stormed out and declined straight out, like a punk in fact if he so desired it. But, as chance would have it, it was Commander Yamamoto himself who assigned the job, and, as Ichigo had no immediate desire of having his ass scorched, all he could blurt out was a tame 'yes'.
"It's a reciprocal arrangement, Kurosaki-kun. We are sparing Sexta Espada's life, and in return he will supply us all the necessary information for the formulation of Aizen's demise. But, before anything else, he has to be accustomed to the living world and Soul Society. Thoroughly."
That was all the explanation he earned from the good ole authority. So much for a highly organized government system, he thought. Since when has baby-sitting become synonymous to symbiotic relationship? This turned out to be the question Ichigo would ask himself every morning henceforth.
He recalls the first day of the job. He was to train Grimmjow Jaggerjack to adhere to the protocols of the normal human behavior. Without knowing in the least what was in store for him, he knocked on the Espada's rented apartment, which stood five blocks from Kurosaki Residence. It took him five punches on the goddamn doorbell to get the Arrancar to open the door.
"It's 1:00pm in the goddamn afternoon and you're still slacking your ass off." Ichigo said.
Grimmjow was rubbing his bloodshot eyes. "And wadddaya suggest I do with a bed? Ignore it?"
"Will you get some shirt on?" Ichigo said irritably.
"No."
"We're gonna head off to the fucking park, so if you wanna get arrested, for some offense like lewdness, you ought to try strolling around with only that stupid pair of boxers on."
"What're we gonna do there? Can we just order some pizza and soda; I'm fucking starved." Grimmjow said, yawning widely, apparently allowing lack of sleep to attend to his brain.
"I'm gonna teach you how to pay cordialities and greet people and all those exclusive-for-morons lectures, so get a move on and put some shirt on already."
After what must have been ten million minutes, they finally tromped off the building and onto the nearest public park.
Ichigo spied on the daily activities in the park. He was watching out for the elderly strollers to come their way to strike up a chat in order to test Grimmjow's progress. To make this long story short, every time a chance came, Grimmjow would always blow it. Point blank. For instance, instead of saying simple 'hello' and 'hi', the Espada would always fall short of making his tone cordial and, worse, he couldn't get these two simple words to leave his goddamn throat.
"Nice day…and you're annoying." Grimmjow told a passing young lady, who appeared to be in a jolly mood.
Ichigo pulled him to a deserted area and gave him his honest due; a good deal of reprimanding.
"What in bloody fuck was that?! She was looking at you and smiling and all, and then you pulled out some shit out of nowhere—"
"—she looked damn annoying—"
"—how would you even know that? She didn't even speak to you!"
"—well, for one thing she was smiling her way down at us as if Aizen has just dropped dead somewhere or something, and, for another, her make-up is so goddamn overdone you'd think she got her face shoved in a goddamn beach—"
"—why in conker's fur would you even give a rat's ass about a girl's make-up —"
"—you're the one who informed me that wearing make-ups is a warning sign of prostitution, whatever that means." Grimmjow replied lazily.
This shut Ichigo up, because in the fucking first place, he had earlier allowed his immaturity to take hold of his mouth by criticizing the light turquoise paint occupying the space beneath Sexta Espada's eyes. 'You look like a prostitute because of that stupid eyeshadow' were the words he had given Grimmjow. He even dragged Ulquiorra Scheiffer in that conversation, and god knows what sort of abuse Cuatro Espada's facial paint received from the Shinigami's potty mouth.
Ichigo dredged himself up after taking a few breaths.
"Okay, Grimmjow, discard that idea, will ya? There's nothing wrong with wearing make-ups, especially when you're a girl."
"What the hell is a prostitute?"
The shinigami was about to launch a litany of elaborate definitions, coupled with all the examples in the world, from Aizen being one to Ichimaru Gin being another, when he thought better of it. He could picture Commander Yamamoto's imposing face saying, 'Do not introduce Grimmjow Jaggerjack to anything that is acquainted with indecency." This was when he became wholly convinced that not only was the humble task of baby-sitting forced upon the defenseless him but also he was fooled into being the mentor of some incorrigible, juvenile bastard. He sighed at his misfortune.
This procedure went on for a whole week with him being the unfortunate mentor, at whom luck would love to sneer, and with Grimmjow being hardly manageable. The tedious elementary lecture only came to an end when Grimmjow started to laugh like a hyena all of a sudden until he was half-crazy.
"What's so goddamn funny?" Ichigo asked, although he knew exactly what was goddamn funny; himself. He'd had enough of this joke and had been making a fool of himself long enough for every mental recession anyone could name to take over his head.
"Okay, Shinigami, I'll cut the bull; I know all about these proper manners lectures because we had to sit on it for about ten thousand years back in Las Noches and I can be pretty dashing with all the courteousness of a goddamn prince if I choose to. I was just joshing with you all this time." Grimmjow informed him through fits of maniacal snickering. Ichigo, for his part, felt some homicidal tendencies go thick upon him. Strangling this bastard to death, he thought, would be a messy option while burying him alive would be laborious—
Grimmjow scooted away from him to demonstrate his claim on proper conduct by greeting an old lady leaning on a cane. He was so superbly charming at his execution that if Ichigo forgot himself and everything he knew, he might fall in love with this Arrancar any minute now.
"Bastard!" Ichigo bellowed at him. Unfortunately, his voice shot across the entire neighborhood, stupefying everyone within earshot.
The last thing he remembered on that day was that Grimmjow Jaggerjack led him away from the old lady's observation and that everyone was gawking at him as though he was a retard who was suffering from involuntary fits of tantrum. To top it off, Grimmjow took it upon himself to appear like his goddamn wonderful nurse. As it was, his sudden outburst overshadowed the appeal of the Espada's rebellious teal hair, which on any given day would've rendered him a potential criminal. Ichigo couldn't blame him, of course. After all, Grimmjow said he was just joshing with him.
It didn't come as a surprise when Grimmjow told him he knew what 'prostitute' meant; it only pissed him to hell.
Having presumed that all that was required of the Espada was his attendance on a hundred sessions in anger management program, Ichigo decided this was no longer within the area of his expertise. So there he was, walking tall across the lawn of Commander Yamamoto's office, his chest magnified to twice its size, off to resign from the stupid post of tending after an over-sized infantile Arrancar.
"No." was the flat answer.
Ichigo knew what sort of punishment he would harness upon exercising defiance over the old man: his pleas would be ignored until he abandoned his attempts. The major squall, however, was that his diagnosis on Grimmjow's current state was dead flat inaccurate. What an incompetent observer you are, all the inanimate objects would tell him. Of course he had noticed that the Espada was no longer of the fiery, hostile nature stuffed with just about all the premeditated violence one would expect from a hollow-shinigami hybrid. More than that, the responsibilities unknowingly hampered on him by this Espada were beyond reasonable count. Sometimes, he'd realize that he was spending half his day with someone whom he cannot fully relate with instead of going out with his buds and watching fireworks and the latest movies.
Beneath all these, he will never admit that this subdued Grimmjow Jaggerjack has grown to be the occupant of the higher proportion of the space in his head…
In fulfillment of the prophecy that he was doomed to have tragedies raining cats and dog on him, Ichigo found himself knocking at Grimmjow's apartment once again. This activity had been what his mornings were all about. It so rarely varied that he was somehow feeling elated when the setting changed entirely; this time, he was to familiarize the Espada with Soul Society. He had it all planned out. What Grimmjow pulled on him when they were in the human world loudly called for punishment, so now, in this scarcely charted wilderness of Soul Society, he would make an idiot of this goddamn bastard of an Arrancar. In front of every shinigami he had ever known.
"Got your stuff ready?" Ichigo asked.
"Where are we going anyway?"
"Going to have fun."
"And your idea of fun is… what exactly? Showing off your Bankai by every means available/possible?" Grimmjow asked with all the fearless malignity he's famous for.
"No. Moron. You know what? I have a lovely little trivia for you. Your head makes up a third of your total body length."
"I'm not going. You've nothing more to fucking teach me. I'm even less of a barbarian than you are."
Ichigo's temperature started to soar above infernal. As a matter of fact, smoke could now be discerned jutting out of his ears, literally.
"Tell ya what, Grimmjow; there'll be lots of chicks where we're going—"
"What makes you think I'm interested in stuff like that?" The Espada said rather irritably.
Ichigo swallowed the lump in his throat. There he was, hinting some carnal offerings to this stature of utter manhood, only to be dismissed like a goddamn fly. But what a relief it was…for some damn reason all the things weighing on his mind had suddenly flown off…never to return—
"Know what, Shinigami, not to demean you or anything, but you're just about as reliable as a goddamn swindler without you even noticing. All these prospects of fun are but a goddamn false alarm. I have waited for that long awaited 'fun', and all you've managed to provide me so far is a whole week of intense boredom." Grimmjow said as though he was remorselessly commissioned to some vengeful act for his aforementioned 'one week of intense boredom'. Mortally offended as he was, Ichigo remained wordlessly astonished. The Espada continued, "I mean all those expletive-laced pieces of advice were damn funny and all, but, man, I want real fun. And sorry but I'm more than determined to decline your invitation. As I've already mentioned, I want real fun."
Grimmjow craned his neck over Ichigo, towering over him by several inches.
Ichigo's heart started to race in a lunatic phase. He had his back against the wall, and it seemed like Grimmjow wouldn't care a goddamn hoot if Ichigo bore a goddamn hole on his apartment's wall by backing away too far down. But the Espada drew closer still and by the time he pulled to a halt, Ichigo was about all ready to spit in his eye.
"Ok, Grimmjow, I'm taking you somewhere and I swear to hell we'll have fun." Ichigo said quickly and nervously before pulling away from the Espada's reach.
...
"It's jam-packed with bastards." Grimmjow shared his random commentary as he surveyed the pub.
"That's why we're gonna pull endless fun." Ichigo said before motioning to the waitress to order three liters of sake. Boy, I'm gonna get you stoned drunk and have you limping all over the place, all over Japan, and poke fun at you. Ichigo thought. Payback time.
They settled themselves in the far corner of the room, and no sooner than they hit their seats did their order (three sake bottles) land on their table. Ichigo pulled his sleeves up his biceps and rubbed his hands together, looking all jazzed up for the gifts they were about to receive.
"This, Grimmjow, is the genius of all human creations. It has all the sweetness of a virgin and fierceness of a beast." Ichigo promptly introduced his companion to their other companion; alcohol.
"Sure."
One and a half hours later…
"Know what, Ichigo," Grimmjow tried to pursue language in between bouts of hiccups and despite his mind which, right now, was a hazy, tipsy mess, "you ain't half bad—hic—maybe we can do this lots of time if—hic—ya know what I mean. I mean, them Espada are all bastards and you can turn into one practically overnight if you so much as sat beside any of them. Hic—them Shinigami there, I mean Tousen, Gin, and Aizen-bitch, they—hic—ain't any better. Especially Tousen. That git. He notices every goddamn hair that falls out of line—hic —all ya have to do to get his attention is to cough somewhere in the moon and—poof, he'd cut your arm off. And Gin, you gotta love Gin. He's a depressing guy, ya know; he—hic—laughs at just about everything that ain't even half funny and—hic—sometimes it's hard to figure out which of the three of them is the bastardest of all. Hic—as for Aizen—hic—you can send him my regards by—hic—cranking him down a notch and—hic—tell him Ulquiorra never really enjoyed sleeping with him."
"Yeah, I'm sure they're a bunch of bastards." Ichigo answered. He hadn't taken a drop of sake.
What a sad world this being had inhabited for so long, he thought as he vigorously maintained his distance from the Espada, whose head was lolling sideways and in danger of falling on his lap, Ichigo's lap. He shuddered at the thought, and suddenly he wanted a change of plans, perhaps also a change of…heart?
Grimmjow clumsily made for the shot glass standing forlorn on the table. Ichigo snatched it away from him.
"What, you're one of them Aizen's army now? You gonna deprive me with all the fun in the world?"
"You're stoned. Let me take you back to your apartment." Ichigo said firmly, curtly employing his newly discovered god-given talent of looking after those who couldn't fend for themselves.
"Nah. We've only downed 2 bottles, and there's still one left." The Espada said, his voice entreating.
Ichigo stood up with ruthless abruptness and grabbed Grimmjow by the arm. Surprisingly, the Espada gave in. His strength had obviously been too depleted by alcohol to resist. Ichigo then slumped Grimmjow's arm over his shoulder to support his tread. And thus they hunkered away from the pub, plunked in together by the other's drunkenness. It was too close a contact for the Shinigami's comfort.
"Grimmjow, I never would've ventured you were capable of sorrow." Ichigo started, not realizing of course that the person to whom his concerns were directed was drunk as a bastard.
"It's pretty easy to be—hic—sad. All ya have to do is hang out with Ulquiorra, Szayel, Yammy, Quinto Espada—what's his name? Halibel, Gin, Aizen, and all them—hic—fucking bastards. I've only one companion…one friend." He finished and he looked at Ichigo fleetingly; what it meant, none could tell.
Ichigo could almost feel his sorrows. Sympathy, was it? What a terrifying unpredictability this all turned out to be. Earlier, he knocked on this person's door with the singular intent of embarrassing him and exposing all his idiocy in clear view of the public, yet now…he was walking him home. He only has one friend and that is me. How foolish of me to try to pull a prank on him! Ichigo thought, raving.
The closeness was unnerving. The absence of space between them was tormenting. All was frustrating. With the collective might of his human body and spirit, Ichigo tried to disorient his face from Grimmjow's.
Before they knew it, and perhaps to his disappointment, they were in front of Grimmjow's apartment.
"You sleep well, Grimmjow."
"Stay for a while."
"Ok."
Inside, Ichigo collapsed on the sofa, his eyes batting constantly at the Espada's direction. Grimmjow reached for his Pantera, and drunk though he was, he still wanted to make sure it was located exactly where he left it earlier. Ichigo didn't notice this affectionate regard for a Zanpakotou, simply because he was too busy imagining what would happen if he spent the night at Grimmjow's apartment.
He couldn't stand it any longer. Ichigo stood up. He was going to tell him. Tell Grimmjow Jaggerjack that this heck of a Shinigami warrior is probably falling headlong in love with him. Drunk or not, he had to do it.
But Grimmjow had his back turned on him, nursing his brilliant Zanpakotou.
Ichigo made his way towards him, his head bolstered by hesitations.
Meanwhile, Grimmjow was stroking the hilt of his beloved Pantera.
Ichigo was summoning all his might to confess that which was as forthcoming as Death himself.
Grimmjow was muttering faint endearments to his sword.
Ichigo was memorizing his short speech as he continued to advance toward him, for whom his heart was currently beating.
Grimmjow continued to cradle his Pantera, his one true friend, his only companion in the deeply vacant world of Hueco Mundo, his savior.
Ichigo was—
"I can't quite imagine how I can live without you." Grimmjow said softly in a whisper, as if all else he held dear was lost in an instant.
And Ichigo had never heard anything so beautiful. And to think it was meant for him! For him of course! Oh a lovely world this is! his mind was splitting to shout. So wonderfully coincidental! This truly is a conspiratorial agreement between everything in the universe! There hardly is a need for that dreaded confession. He came to me like a light in the void, for Grimmjow Jaggerjack loves me too!
And he was lost. The surge of emotions was too much for his flesh and blood. He fainted, if that's what you want to know.
And just so you know, Grimmjow Jaggerjack was still showering his beloved Pantera with every lovely phrase under the goddamn sun. And he wouldn't notice that his companion had dropped cold smack on the floor until after 20 minutes.
Ichigo has woken up. And going back to that 'plainly laughable' subject, he just still can't believe that he has found love, finally. Or maybe. After all, this is all a reciprocal arrangement.
END