Title: Art of Deception
Author: Higure-kun
Pairing: GrimmIchi (also implies past GrimmIchi)
Rating/Warning: PG-13
Words: 1,255
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach…
Author's Note: Yes… I am using ch 281 here as inspiration... I have started getting dirty thoughts about Grimmjow's tail about halfway through. I blame the fact that I am sleep deprived and that it is well passed four a.m. where I am at… This is actually the start of a GrimmIchi series for me, so hold on. The plot is coming I swear. Just bear the first few chapters for me okay? Chapters also should be longer than this one, but I am tired and feel like this is a good cut-off point… However, this chapter was written for ensuri over at LJ.
Chapter One: Beginning Game
Ironically funny is what he would call the situation, if he wasn't limping and bloodied. He loathed the rain, he really did. It always seemed to mock him in some way. The substance would see fit to shower on events that would configure his personality and his resolve, albeit he always ended up bleeding. Always he was injured in some way during these moments, just short of reaching his goal. The first injury was the loss of his mother. That, by far, had been the worst for he could not have done anything about it.
The next instance was with Grand Fisher. It was raining hard then just like the first time he had "met" the hollow. The droplets of water had created a haze that blurred his vision, yet he still managed to wound that old hollow. It had a way of molding his soul, enabling him to endure being a shinigami. It had changed something inside of him, like a burning liquid that wouldn't recede even after the adrenaline had worn off and he passed out. He didn't know if it was revenge that drove him on, but he cursed the rain yet again because of his lack of strength to be able to kill the very create that took what he prized most away from him.
Tonight was going to be different. He would win. He would succeed. The frail form pinned to his aching chest with a battered arm depended on it. Kurosaki Ichigo would not fail this time, not after finally making his escape. He would prove to himself and that damned rain overhead that he could keep his promises. The oranged-haired teen was nearly cut into ribbons, claw marks and burns marring his body. He was tired, one eye already sealed shut by the swelling and the other had blood leaking into it.
Ichigo had done what he could to get away from his pursuers, the three Espada that had been sent to chase him down. One-on-one there wouldn't have been a problem, exception only to the teal-haired man that left the deep gashes on his back. He was lucky that he had memorized the patterns of the patrols around the white palace, taking his chances and using his speed, only defending when needed and never attacking. His goal was to get Inoue out; and get her out and back home he would. Getting out of Las Noches had taken all his energy away, leaving a skeleton running on sheer determination and will power. He had to have had it, threatening that hollow in the sands of Hueco Mundo to make the portal to the living world was the last choice he made before stumbling into the wet streets of Karakura Town.
He cursed for several reasons, all of wish led to his current condition, immobile. Ichigo couldn't force his feet to move any further. The girl in his arms was no better, having taken a few hits herself. His entire right arm was numb and his vision was starting to fade quickly. Ichigo cursed again, his spirit in denial of his limbs. He vaguely wondered if he even mattered. Lately he couldn't even save himself, let alone others around him. This was one of the few lingering thoughts he had as his world went completely black…
"You disappoint me, Shinigami!" Grimmjow sneered, watching the broken mask pieces fall from the teen's face. "Don't tell me you're done already!?
"Hardly!" Ichigo growled. He knew his chances were slim to none as the spirit particle that had formed his hollow mask fade into the white blood-stained ground. Were his eleven seconds up already? He panted heavily, taking Tenza Zangetsu into both of his hands once more, readying himself for another attack. The Espada before him was injured, having been caught off guard once or twice, but barely working up a sweat.
"Getsuga Tenshou!" the teen yelled, firing off the black and red mass of spirit energy, his throat raw.
The boy didn't even know what hit him as he suddenly felt his head collide with the ground beneath him. A clawed hand dug into his scalp and into a bundle of nerves in his right arm, sending pinpricks of pain shooting through his spine and forcing his hand open. The cat-like figure above him gloated. "I was expecting more, Kurosaki Ichigo!"
"Fuck you, Arrancar!" he managed to hiss out, only earning another laceration to the head for having a sharp tongue.
"You'd like that too much, wouldn't ya?" Grimmjow laughed into his ear. His voice was rough, a predatory growl mixed in with the usual tenor pitch. It made Ichigo's entire body shudder. "But first…"
Ichigo could even move his head to see what the Sexta Espada was doing, but he heard metal scrapping against white stone. He didn't wonder for long what was going on as he was suddenly flipped onto his back and a sharp pain shot up his leg. No sooner had he registered that it was his own blade he had been stabbed with than those claws effectively pinned is wrists down, cutting into his flesh. The teen growled in pain and frustration, struggling against his laughing captor crouching over him.
Grimmjow only laughed harder, removing his hand only to replace it with the weird tail that had grown from his back. The hand grabbed his face roughly, not caring about the puncture wounds.
"Grimm!" the teen yelped, loathing how easy the nickname escaped his lips.
He hated it almost as much as he felt the Arrancar's familiar lips swoop down attacked his own in a fierce, demanding kiss. Ichigo wanted to cuss his predictable self as he obdientely parted his own lips, hissing as jagged fangs bit into his lower lip. He wanted to bite the tongue that snaked into his mouth, savoring its moment of victory. The teen gave into the old feelings resurfacing with disgust at himself and the one that managed to dig said emotions out. It only made matters worse that despite the rage he held for Grimmjow playing along with Aizen's plans, he still needed the bastard badly.
"I hate you," he growled as the other pulled away with a smug look on his face.
"I know."
"Thought you were gonna 'slit my fucking throat' not kiss me," he huffed.
Grimmjow grinned. "I am, but not this time."
"I won't forgive you, Grimmjow! It doesn't change anything!"
"Tch. I don't give a damn if you do or not, Ichi," the Espada spat. "I did what I had to and this time it's for your benefit."
Ichigo never got the chance to ask what Grimmjow meant as a blow to the head knocked him out cold…
A soft groan passed through the back of his throat as he stirred from his sleep. It was a nightmare from his past, one that he dreamed all too often anymore. Sometimes he wondered why he only dreamed about that and not what happened after. He thought that of all memories, this one would be the one he would want to suppress the most. It was the most painful of them all…
Ichigo blinked a few times, trying to get his bearings. He wasn't dead, that he was sure of because his body hurt like hell and was protesting to even waking up. All he could do was look at the ceiling, though it seemed somewhat familiar…
"Good to see you awake, Kurosaki-kun," a low cheery voice greeted.
"You have no idea, Urahara-san…"
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