A/N: Thanks again for reviewing guys, I really really really appreciate it because they inspire me to get up off my procrastinating ass and write. So keep 'em coming. Please. ;)

I also wanted to say something about Ichigo because someone brought up an important point: He's not as fierce and aggressive in this fic, and kind of put into the uke role. I just want to point out that in this AU he's a student, not a shinigami. He's not been in any real fights except for a couple fistfights here and there. He's also calmer because I didn't want someone abrasive who would freak out our unstable Grimmjow. Hope that clears things up for anyone pissed about his characterization.

This one's for TigerTearz, who wrote me such a nice message. :3 Also, does anyone know any awesome alternative music? I need some new music…

Enjoy and leave me a nice review, if you would. :3

Chapter 4:

Encantado

Grimmjow did not dream that night, so wrapped up in the most comfortable sleep he had ever had. He was awakened by the sun as the first rays of early morning filtered through the curtains of Ichigo's small living room window and laid bright stripes across his face and neck. As he blinked the remains of sleep away, he gazed about the room with new eyes.

Everything was so…bright. He was unused to seeing so much light. He threw the blanket aside and walked over to the window, grimacing as his injured shoulder ached in protest. It was so stiff he could hardly move his arm. Ignoring the pain, Grimmjow used his other hand to push aside the curtain. He gasped as he gazed out at the busy city street before him.

In the daytime, this place did not look so menacing as he knew it was at night. People walked about, dressed in heavy jackets, carrying bags of goods or small children. Sunlight glinted off of lampposts and mailboxes. A loud, steady pounding noise sounded as an obnoxious yellow car rolled down the street. In the tree next to the window, Grimmjow could hear a bird singing.

It was overwhelming. He wondered if he could ever get used to this.

"Good morning," Ichigo's voice sounded behind him. "Kami, I can't believe I didn't notice how long your hair was last night."

The young man padded over as Grimmjow turned away from the window. He half expected Ichigo to bring up the strange incident between them last night, but the boy simply smiled tiredly. Ichigo's eyes travelled down his back with an impressed look.

It was true. He had not cut his hair for years, and it fell down, down, almost to his knees in long blue layers. He never knew why he let it grow out; he was not vain or beauty-conscious in any way. He just never gave much mind to it.

But now it would be a liability. From his brief look out the window, he noticed that none of the men he saw had hair longer than shoulder length. His length, along with the color, would undoubtedly attract attention.

He looked up at Ichigo, who was still admiring the long locks. "I want to cut it off," he stated bluntly.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea. But still, this must've taken years to grow…"

"I have no attachment to it."

"Fine, fine. I can't cut hair for shit, but I know someone." He noticed the look in Grimmjow's eyes. "Don't worry, he's a real nice guy."

A real nice guy? Like that meant anything to him. But he decided to trust the boy. He nodded after a moment.

Ichigo stretched and turned away. "Aren't you hungry? Let's find something to eat and then we can get cleaned up and go. I think I've got some stuff in the fridge."

Grimmjow grinned despite himself. Someone was asking him if he was hungry. Someone wanted to share food with him. At this point, there was just no reason to be surprised anymore. He still couldn't grasp his unbelievable luck. With a shake of his head, he followed Ichigo into the small but cozy kitchen.

Grimmjow had never been in a kitchen before. He saw Ichigo leaning into what he guessed was "the fridge". As he passed, he felt cold air emanating from it, and he saw all sorts of food inside. Interesting. He turned and sat in one of the chairs surrounding the small table as Ichigo pulled out a bowl of fruit and placed it on the table in front of him.

"You like eggs?" he asked.

Grimmjow just looked at him. Ichigo's eyes widened as he held up two white, round things.

"You know. Eggs? Scrambled, fried, poached?"

"What?" he growled. He hated not knowing what seemed to be the simplest things. But…he just didn't!

Ichigo leaned back against a counter with an incredulous look on his face. "What did you eat…back there?"

"Whatever I was given." Usually stale bread or canned vegetables, with the occasional can of beef stew or Vienna sausages. He drank metallic water from an old canteen.

"Which I'm guessing wasn't much..." Ichigo mused to himself in response to the blue-haired man's vague answer. "Well, you'll like this." He shook his head as he pulled a round pan from a cabinet beneath a flat, black apparatus on the counter that was decorated with various knobs and buttons.

Grimmjow watched with increasing interest as Ichigo placed the pan on one of the black circles on the counter and turned a knob. The black circle turned a bright red after a few seconds, and Grimmjow realized it was red with heat as Ichigo dropped a pat of butter into the pan that sizzled and began to melt as soon as it landed. The young man spread it around with a long, flat wooden spoon, and then reached for the eggs he had placed on the counter. With a crack, he swiftly struck the side of the pan with each egg; one, two, three, four times. Each time, he would let the orange, slimy contents fall into the pan, and throw the empty shells into the sink next to him.

Then, he used the wooden spoon to spread them around. He sprinkled them with black powder, and then white powder. Ichigo hummed as he worked. The eggs took on a pale yellow color as they lost their slimy texture and became solid. A delicious, warm scent filled the air, and Grimmjow felt his mouth water.

Ichigo noticed the other man's intent gaze as he reached up to grab plates for the both of them. He smirked. "You look like you've never seen someone cook before."

When Grimmjow remained silent, too prideful to admit he, in fact, hadn't, Ichigo paled. Wisely, he didn't push the issue. "This is a stove," he began, gesturing towards the black object with the hot circles on it. "Over there's the refrigerator, and that's a microwave," he continued, pointing to a black box with rows of buttons and blinking green numbers that told the time.

Ichigo picked up the pan and dumped the eggs in even portions onto each plate. He set one down in front of Grimmjow along with a fork. He set his own plate down and went back to the fridge, where he pulled out something wrapped in foil. When he opened it, Grimmjow could see thinly sliced pieces of some kind of meat inside.

"Here, watch," Ichigo said. "I'll use the microwave to heat up the bacon."

The young man unwrapped the bacon and spread the pieces on a plate, then placed the whole thing inside the microwave. He pressed a button two times, and with a beep the microwave whirred to life. Grimmjow watched as in less than two minutes the bacon was cooked. Sure enough, as Ichigo pulled the plate out of the microwave, the contents steamed and sizzled.

Grimmjow tried to keep his expression neutral so that he wouldn't look like an idiot in front of the young man. It was a completely different world out here. And he hadn't even left Ichigo's house yet.

Instead of shoving the food into his mouth as quickly as possible like he usually did, he watched Ichigo. The young man ate the bacon with his hands, and used the fork to pick up small amounts of egg. He tried his best to copy Ichigo, but his hunger won out after a bit and he ended up throwing three whole pieces of bacon into his mouth when Ichigo was looking away.

"Fruit?" Ichigo asked, proffering the large bowl.

Grimmjow looked inside, and saw an assortment of colorful slices. He glanced at Ichigo, then jabbed his fork at an interesting-looking piece. It was red, the innards slightly pink. The skin was dotted with tiny seeds.

As he took a bite, he nearly gagged as his mouth was assaulted with a strong, bright flavor he had never experienced before. Before he knew it, he was wolfing don the red things like a madman. There was something so familiar about them, something he couldn't place. And they were good.

Ichigo snorted across from him. "Those're strawberries. They're unusually sweet for this time of year."

After breakfast, Ichigo steered him towards the shower and showed him the different soaps and shampoos. Thankfully, he'd been in a shower before; Aizen liked to keep all of his pets groomed before shows.

Grimmjow groaned softly as the hot water sluiced over his tired body. The bathroom was tiny, the shower hardly big enough for him. But he didn't care. He shifted uncomfortably as the water soaked his collar and made it rest heavily against his neck. Careful to keep his injured arm away from the spray, he washed himself.

As he lathered his long hair with shampoo, he grinned as Ichigo's strong scent swirled around him and realization hit him like a strong punch to the jaw.

It was the scent of strawberries.

As soon as he could hear the sound of the shower running steadily, Ichigo picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number.

"Hello?" a voice drawled.

"Hey, old man. It's me."

There was an accosted gasp on the other end of the line. "Well, Berry. What a wonderful way to wake up in the morning, to your lovely voice."

"Don't call me that," Ichigo scowled at the receiver. "Can I come over? I've got a friend who needs…help."

There was only a heartbeat of silence on the other end. "Of course. What happened?"

"Ah…It's hard to explain. You'll see when we get there. Is Shinji around?"

"Alright." There was a pause. "Speak of the devil, he just dropped by for a visit not five minutes ago."

"Thanks. Tell him to stick around for a while." That was part of the reason why Ichigo loved Urahara. He never questioned when Ichigo needed help. Although he was a pervert and a bit eccentric, he was a decent father figure.

"Maa, at least give me a name," Kisuke whined.

Ichigo sighed. "His name is Grimmjow."

There was silence on the other end of the line, and Ichigo wondered for a second whether the connection had severed. "Kisuke?"

"Hmm? Yes. See you soon."

The line went dead. Ichigo rolled his eyes at the man's weird behavior, but let it go as he heard the bathroom door open.

Ichigo studied Grimmjow critically as the man emerged from the shower. While he had been cleaning himself up, Ichigo had dressed himself and laid out a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt for the fighter to wear.

Now, however, he had to worry about concealing the collar and obnoxiously-colored hair before they went out in public. Ichigo had no doubt some of Grimmjow's Master's men would be in this part of the city.

He grabbed a long scarf from the hook in the hallway and wrapped it around Grimmjow's neck, and found an old hat in the back of the closet that he pulled down over the man's head. He tucked the long hair as best as he could down the back of his shirt.

Grimmjow's blue eyes looked at him patiently. Ichigo snorted as he tried to stifle his laughter.

"What?" Grimmjow barked.

"Nothing, nothing. Let's go."

The car ride was quiet, as Grimmjow gazed about in barely suppressed awe and Ichigo kept his eyes on the road, not wanting to embarrass him. As they came away from the center of the city, the streets became cleaner, and less people milled about aimlessly. There were houses, too, and rectangular, stout shops with colorful roofs and signs.

Ichigo fumbled with the various buttons and knobs in front of him until he had pressed them in an order that seemed to satisfy him. To Grimmjow's shock, a sweet, delicate sound filled the car. Ichigo smiled at Grimmjow's expression.

"What is this...?"

"Music." Ichigo sighed. "Kami, you've never heard music?"

"It's..." He could not describe it, and he was reluctant to pollute the air with meaningless words while this wonderful sound pressed around him.

Instead, he sat back and listened as Ichigo drove, loving the emotions that the music drew from deep places within him that he had forgotten. As it changed, he changed too, and he never wanted the trip to end.

It was over all too soon as Ichigo turned into the small parking lot of Urahara Shoten and killed the engine. He looked down and noticed that Grimmjow was gripping the armrest tightly, his knuckles white.

"The man we're seeing, he's like a father to me. His name is Urahara Kisuke. And my friend Shinji is here too, he's really nice."

Grimmjow wanted to snort at Ichigo's somewhat patronizing tone, but it did help a little. Not that he would ever admit to that. They got out of the car, and Grimmjow breathed in the fresh air, shivering in pleasure. Never would he take fresh air for granted.

A bell rang as they opened the door, and Grimmjow nearly jumped out of his skin. He stayed close behind Ichigo as the young man walked up to a counter and knocked three times.

The front of the shop was decorated in a simple fashion. The walls were painted a neutral tan, and there were a couple potted plants strewn about. There were no goods for sale like Grimmjow had expected. What kind of shop was this?

A small girl appeared, pushing aside a curtain of beads that concealed a room behind the counter.

"Hello, Ichi-kun…" she mumbled, a blush tinting her cheeks.

She looked nervously up at Grimmjow as Ichigo patted her head and asked her to go find "the old man". Grimmjow felt discomfort creep up his spine as her wide eyes gazed at him. It was rare he came in contact with small children.

He followed Ichigo in silence as they passed through the curtain of beads to a large sitting room with a wide window and a cozy looking kotatsu. Grimmjow gasped silently; he hadn't seen a kotatsu in years. He was too busy wondering if he would be allowed to sit in it to notice the dark figure sidling across the room to greet Ichigo. He remembered cold nights, turned fuzzy with time, sitting under the warm table with a boy, hair long and black, as they imagined living with families they would never have…

"And you must be Grimmjow," a low voice said.

Grimmjow turned, startled from his reverie, as a tall blonde man materialized in front of him. Urahara Kisuke. His hair was messy, and he wore a green kimono. He had a five o' clock shadow and tired, kind eyes that gave him an overall disarming appearance. Ichigo seemed to trust this man greatly, so Grimmjow vowed that he would try to do the same.

Still, there was something strange about this man, like Grimmjow had heard his name or seen his face before.

"Yes," he said gruffly, remembering that he had been addressed.

"Why don't we all take a seat? We can talk a bit—"

The man seemed to sense Grimmjow's tension and was gesturing towards the kotatsu when the beads were thrown aside again and a thin, gangly boy that looked about Ichigo's age sauntered into the room. His gaze landed on Ichigo. A wide grin split his face.

"Ichigo!" he cried. "Haven't seen you in ages, how ya been?"

He began to cross the room, but stopped as his eyes found Grimmjow's and the wide grin disappeared. He backed away, his eyes wide with alarm.

"Espada!" he spat.

Grimmjow snarled in response. How did this boy know him? He felt adrenaline rush through his veins, and eagerness to fight brought a bitter taste to his mouth. This boy would regret threatening him.

"Shinji!" Ichigo snapped. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Wrong with me? What's wrong with you? You brought that monster here."

"What?" Ichigo hissed, while at the same time Grimmjow moved to grab Shinji.

He was intercepted, however, as Kisuke's hand wrapped around his wrist. His grip was strong, stronger than Grimmjow had expected from him. He glared at Grimmjow, and Grimmjow stared right back. But he did not strike. He had no reason to hurt this man. Yet.

"Enough," Kisuke said. "Shinji, sit down and stop making a fool of yourself."

"But—" The look on Kisuke's face silenced him, and he sat.

The strange man turned his hard gaze back to Grimmjow. He relaxed his grip on Grimmjow's arm and sighed. "Please. Sit."

Grimmjow looked at Ichigo warily. The young man nodded imperceptibly, but Grimmjow still saw it. He steeled himself and sat down on the edge of the kotatsu, as far away from Shinji as possible. Ichigo wisely took a spot next to him, blocking Shinji from his view.

Kisuke ran his fingers through his hair, the tired look returning to his eyes. "It appears we have much to talk about."