Phew! It sure has been a long time since the last update! I've been so busy lately that it's not even funny. D:

Thanks so much for your patience!


A blond eyebrow quirked as the owner's ears picked up voices that belonged to his nephew and their mysterious guest coming from the loft next to his bedroom. A few seconds later, a beep sounded, indicating that their shared computer was being booted up.

"You'd think that a young man of Ichigo's caliber would've thought of turning to the internet a lot sooner," Kisuke mused, his brows wrinkled unhappily.

Juushirou laughed, his voice gentle and melodious. "Don't give him a hard time, Kisuke. The child has been distracted ever since Mr. Jaegerjaques arrived."

"Hmm," Kisuke muttered. "Well, he will only be disappointed."

A moment of silence filled the room with nothing but Juushirou's soft sighs as Kisuke's fingers dug into his shoulders to loosen out the knots. Then, Juushirou asked carefully, "May I assume, then, that you haven't heard anything from your contact?"

Kisuke pursed his lips. "Your assumption is correct, I'm afraid," he said, sounding both defeated and frustrated. "One can't simply materialize out of thin air and leave no traces behind, but it seems that our guest here did exactly that."

"And you're worried..." Juushirou observed out loud as he caught his partner's gaze.

Kisuke sighed and nodded.

"There are four of us watching over one of him, I think we will be quite alright," Juushirou touched the blonde's hand.

"That's not what I'm worried about," Kisuke replied, his eyes darting to the closed door. "I'm afraid that Ichigo would..."

Juushirou chuckled. "Nonsense," he said. "Ichigo is a smart boy, as you had just pointed out. I'm sure he is simply intrigued. After all, he has had no one but three boring old men as company for a long while."

Kisuke feigned a wounded look at the comment regarding his age, but had no choice but to agree and hope that Juushirou was right.


Ichigo was disappointed, but if he was honest with himself, he wasn't all that surprised. He shot a sideways glance at the older man sitting next to him and felt a sharp pang of guilt. It was all his fault—he had gotten Grimmjow's hopes up, only to end up with absolutely nothing.

"Don't sweat it, kid," Grimmjow flashed a grin that showed off a set of brilliant white teeth. "No offense, but I wasn't really expecting such as easy break anyway."

"Oh." Ichigo felt foolish at once. The sudden surge of heat on his cheeks indicated that his embarrassment was reflected on his face.

To his chagrin, Grimmjow reached out and ruffled his hair. "By the way, is there anything I can help with around here?" the man asked. "I'm getting quite restless here, doing nothing but lying around all day mooching off of you guys."

"But you're still recovering..." Ichigo began with a frown, only to be interrupted by his uncle's singsong voice.

"Thanks for the offer," Uncle Kisuke said, stepping out of his bedroom with Juushirou right behind him. "I would't dream of asking you to do any manual labor for the next couple of weeks, but when you feel up to it, you may help us around the shop. Tessai could use the help, and a little physical exertion might strengthen your limbs. From your physique, I daresay you are a very active man before this happened."

Ichigo pursed his lips but refrained from protesting when Grimmjow straightened up in his seat with a wider grin. Perhaps his uncle was right. The worst of Grimmjow's injuries seemed to be showing signs of improvement, and the man certainly didn't look like the type to sit still for long once his energy returned. It could be fun, even, having someone besides Tessai to talk to while he carried out mundane everyday tasks.

"Then it's settled," Uncle Kisuke said, patting their guest's shoulder in a friendly manner.

Ichigo bit his lower lip when Grimmjow tensed up the moment Uncle Kisuke's hand touched him. The man hid it well, though; the wariness in his eyes dissolved in blink of an eye, and from the way Uncle Kisuke continued chatting idly with his partner, it didn't seem like the older man had noticed it. Ichigo couldn't help but feel a jolt of excitement as something clicked in his head.

Grimmjow may have lost his memories, but his body would've no doubt retained some that were simply too deeply ingrained within it.

Like his cat-like reflexes.

Like his reaction to Uncle Kisuke's touch.

Perhaps observation would be Ichigo's most powerful tool after all.


By the time Tessai finally gave in to Grimmjow's incessant pestering, it was already two weeks since they tried to find him on the internet. While Grimmjow told Ichigo that he'd never had high hopes in the first place, he did try to do a little research of his own—usually at night, sneaking upstairs to use the shared computer on tiptoes like a burglar—but so far all he'd gotten was disappointment after disappointment. He had looked up car accidents, missing persons reports—anything he could think of that might be even remotely possible, and then some.

During the day, he started helping Tessai with housework. As he expected, there wasn't much to do, especially with Tessai and Ichigo already there. Still, he enjoyed being outdoors, even if all he did was tidy the lawn. The sun was unforgiving today, and he soon found himself drenched in sweat. His white shirt—one that he borrowed from Tessai—stuck to his skin like the piece of damp cloth that it was, and he couldn't help but wish that he could strip out of it.

"It's crazy hot here," he grumbled to Tessai, who was dusting himself off.

"Mmm," the older man agreed with a nod.

Over the past few weeks, Grimmjow had learned not to take offense at Tessai's lack of words. He was a quiet, serious man who didn't speak much—a complete opposite of his light-hearted blonde friend—who was caring and warm in his own way. Grimmjow found his silent presence comforting enough.

At the moment, though, the indoors was becoming more and more tempting by the minute. Grimmjow panted lightly as he leaned against the hood of the battered up truck that belonged to his host. The still-healing cut across his torso itched, and sweat was dripping into his eye, his hair matted to his scalp, all tangled and damp. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. With a grunt, he peeled the t-shirt off his frame carefully, mindful not to strain the tender skin and muscles on his front.

"Looking good," Tessai commented as he shifted his thick glasses up his nosebridge.

Grimmjow raised an eyebrow.

"Your injury, I mean," the black-haired man added hastily, looking a little embarrassed.

Grimmjow guffawed at his host's discomfort. "It's all thanks to you," he said, tracing the new scar with his fingers. Still grinning, he wrung the sweat out of his t-shirt and dabbed his face and neck with it before draping it carelessly over his shoulders. "All thanks to you."


Ichigo thought he was going to die.

All that skin.

Ichigo stopped cold in his tracks, the two bottles of cold water in his hands forgotten. He gaped at Grimmjow's back, eyes glued to the muscles rippling under that taut, tanned skin as the man pulled his t-shirt over his head. Grimmjow was practically glowing, his skin glistening under a sheen of sweat. Light bruises could still be seen here and there—yellowish, barely visible—yet they didn't diminish the man's appearance in any way; if anything, the plethora of scars added to Grimmjow's appeal, giving him a tough, rugged look that reminded Ichigo of a warrior.

It took Ichigo a handful of seconds to realize that his mouth was hanging open, and when he did, heat bloomed on his cheeks immediately, and he snapped it shut in a hurry. He seriously needed to get a grip—this was not the first time he'd caught himself ogling at their guest. But could you blame him, though? Ichigo had never seen anyone so...exotic before. Grimmjow's hair was such a rare shade of azure, his eyes crystal clear and so impossibly blue. Not to mention the constant air of danger and mystery that shrouded him...Ichigo was absolutely fascinated. Compared to his normal, boring life as a recent high-school graduate, Grimmjow was a pop of color, and Ichigo couldn't help but feel drawn to the man.

Shaking himself once more, Ichigo forced his body to move. Heart pumping madly in his chest, he approached Tessai and Grimmjow.

"Aww thanks, kid!" Grimmjow grinned as he snatched one of the bottles from Ichigo's grasp before Ichigo even had the chance to greet them.

Kid.

Ichigo scowled, but the heat in his eyes met an instant death as soon as Grimmjow flashed him another one of his winning smiles. Still, his pride as a young man almost well into his second decade in life prompted him to retort.

"I'm not a kid, stop calling me that," he demanded with as much indignation as he could muster.

"Sure," Grimmjow smirked, his voice betraying more than a hint of amusement.

The sarcasm wasn't lost on Ichigo, but his snappy comeback hitched in his throat when he felt the weight of those crystalline eyes on his face. It was all he could do to swallow the gurgle that nearly slipped from his throat. For a long moment, he stared blankly at Grimmjow, too stunned to defend himself. Fleetingly, Ichigo wondered if Grimmjow was a hypnotist before he lost his memory. He knew he was being rude and he was staring at the older man like an idiot, yet it just wasn't possible for him to look away; and when he did, it was only because of Tessai's not-so-subtle fake cough.

And then it got worse.


The kid was just too cute. Grimmjow knew that he had a good body, but he didn't expect Ichigo to stare at him so openly. On an impulse, just to tease the boy, he draped an arm casually over Ichigo's shoulders and pulled him closer.

The effect was immediate—Ichigo promptly froze and flushed a deeper shade of scarlet. Grimmjow snickered inwardly. The way the kid got embarrassed so easily only made it all the more amusing. It was hilarious to see Ichigo scowling fiercely like he wanted to start a fight even as it looked like his cheeks were about to be completely consumed by flames.

"Okay, fine, Ichigo," he said with a grin, giving the boy's shoulder a playful squeeze. "Happy?"

If only Ichigo was a little older, Grimmjow mused as the kid shot him a murderous glare. Now that he thought about it, Ichigo was actually kind of cute, especially those warm brown eyes of his that reminded Grimmjow of amber, with flecks of gold that seemed to burn brighter in anger. The boy had the physique of a swimmer, his body lithe and lean without being gangly.

Too bad he was half of Grimmjow's age.

At the thought, Grimmjow couldn't help but wonder if there was someone out there—someone who was searching for him frantically, waiting for him to return.

Well, if there was, they're going to need to search a little harder.


After tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, Ichigo finally accepted the fact that it was going to be a long night. He was lying on his side, tucked under his blanket with his back towards Grimmjow. Sleep continued to elude him even though he had been trying hard to clear his mind.

Kid.

That bastard. He was still pissed at the man for calling him that. It wasn't the first time, and if Grimmjow's lack of remorse was any indication, it wasn't going to be the last either.

But damn, was Grimmjow especially hot today. Ichigo had never thought of himself as a pervert, but it seemed like lately, Uncle Kisuke's bad habits had rubbed off on him. Ever since he first realized that how attractive Grimmjow was, it wouldn't stop bugging him.

The problem was getting worse, in fact. Like this afternoon, when Grimmjow took his t-shirt off...the image was now forever seared into his memory. He'd close his eyes and see the man stripping out of that thin, almost-see-through garment, and his mouth would go dry. He remembered the toned ridges of Grimmjow's abdominal muscles and the torso that tapered into an alluring V-shape that was partially covered by the borrowed pair of jeans. Since Tessai was a little thicker around the waist, it sat low on Grimmjow's hips, giving the world a glimpse of his well-defined obliques.

Before Ichigo knew it, his body temperature had spiked. It was suddenly stiflingly warm under the covers; so he shifted, crossing and uncrossing his legs as he tried to ignore the growing discomfort down south. The tip of his ears began to burn as he realized what this meant.

Feeling alarmed, he swore silently and tried to distract himself by thinking about the least sexual thing he could think of—an image of his dad popped into his mind, but it dissipated almost instantly when a soft rustling of bedsheets reminded him of Grimmjow's presence not five feet away from him.

This was it. He couldn't deny it anymore. He was hopelessly infatuated with their mysterious guest.


To be continued...