Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.
Osaka Japan, 15 years earlier.
Life had slowly become a barren landscape over the past year and everything had crumbled into ruins for Grimmjow. He didn't experience bad days from time to time, but rather every waking moment tended to become a never ending bitterness, that was like a black hole in his heart.
Sucking his emotions dry.
School was always drawn out for Grimmjow, he lacked general attention and was always shunned by his teachers and peers like a sickly leper. For the past year he began to despise the way he was treated, if Grimmjow wasn't being picked on because of the blotchy bruises across his arms or face – it was because he was alienated amongst his classmates.
None of them were concerned or expressed any care for him.
Shortly after, Grimmjow developed a violent tendency towards the kid's who picked on him. He saw it as self defence, however others saw it as unnecessary violence. When these outbursts became noticeable, Grimmjow was suspended from school. There was a lot of injustice for the teen, but violence was soothing for the blunette – it numbed his mind from the things that tormented him when it was inflicted on others.
This suspension was followed up by his mother's rough-housed slaps and beatings for being a 'worthless prick.'
After one year of fluctuating hope, Grimmjow bid farewell to the day's happiness and slowly dwindled into sadness.
He hated his life and he hated the hell he was often imprisoned to everyday, there was never a smile on his form – the frown he constantly wore became a trademark complexion. And the times Grimmjow rarely did smile, were quickly washed away by his mother's calloused hand. Living at home was an uphill battle for the thirteen year old, his only escape lied in the weekends he spent at Nnoitora's, numbingly high off drugs.
For a a teenager suffering abuse most of his life, Grimmjow felt it normal to live this affliction.
"Ya good Grimm?" A tiresome voice asked him from the unmade bedside, both Nnoitora and Grimmjow finished passing a joint between them thirty minutes earlier. Ever since he met his raven haired friend a year ago, the friendship they developed was comforting amongst the heart break.
"'M better Nnoi, thanks." He said in a pliable state of mind, marijuana was offering temporary relief from the tangent pain inflicted on his body. These moments spent with his only friend were a remedy for the emotional pain, but it was the drugs itself that took away the painful bruises and scars etched into him.
"Ya back still hurt?" Nnoitora asked, it was just hours before that Grimmjow fled his hell to Nnoitora's, because his mother erupted into an outburst of her own – smacking into his back with a the bare end of a magazine. Nnoitora lived with his uncle who was often out on what Nnoitora called 'businesses', Grimmjow never questioned it only because Nnoitora was often happy to provide the disabused teen with hospitality.
Only minute traces of happiness surfaced for Grimmjow every now and then, they were bought to the surface during time's like these.
"Not feelin' anything now, I'ma be okay – I think." Grimmjow replied with little positivity, they were both lying on his Nnoitora's bed – the silken sheets comforting their anchorless state of reality.
When the idea of his father abandoning Grimmjow slowly sunk in, the once happy Grimmjow was now a contrast of black and white. No real emotion, his inner most sanctions were a darkened cave full of inner demons and turmoil.
The parental support was gone and there was no one to wipe away his tears, he soon learnt that it was weak to actually show emotion in front of others. Nobody truly cared for him so Grimmjow slowly began to build up walls of fear and hate. In this vulnerable state, Nnoitora acted like a guardian angel of sorts – an older brother. The things Grimmjow did were an imitation of Nnoitora's own actions. If Nnoitora was angered – Nnoitora would punch someone and laugh at it, if Nnoitora was bored – they would go out and steal things. Grimmjow followed suit, the raven haired teen was the one raising him.
Grimmjow and Nnoitora spent the duration of the teen's school suspension; loitering around streets as if they were stray wolves, both stealing from shops when they had the chance and would sit around in Nnoitora's shed passing a joint back and forth between them.
Grimmjow had planned to stay the entire weekend, Nnoitora knew that the blunette's mother was the cause of his pain, so he tried to prevent it from happening any way he could.
"Ya uncle gonna be home any time soon?" Grimmjow asked, breaking the silence they sat in. The blunette teen was generally curious as to what his friend's uncle did for work. Nnoitora often brushed it aside and said it wasn't very important and the only thing they should be more concerned about is the weed they 'borrowed' from his room.
"Nah, said he was going ta' Tokyo for somethin' important, so we can do whatever we want."
That was good news for Grimmjow who shut his eyes, he didn't enjoy doing much. But when he was with Nnoitora, Grimmjow was able to enjoy the delinquent like activities they got up to.
After a few hours of clouded thoughts, the effects of marijuana helped the blunette sink into sleep - which was something that came difficult for him now. Grimmjow slowly opened up more and more to Nnoitora over the past year, he became someone the blunette truly felt content with.
The weekend passed by swiftly, Nnoitora and Grimmjow hung around the streets – vandalizing local property and stealing from shops. The blunette learnt that Nnoitora didn't bother with school, the only smarts he needed were learnt off the street.
When it came around, their Sunday consisted of a drawn out sleep after roaming the suburbs of Osaka in the earlier hours of the morning. Grimmjow knew he had to return home at least once for a change of clothes and proper nights rest – but the woman he tried to elude himself from, would ultimately be there to shatter his world and strike him down like a cynical outcast.
He left early Sunday night, he sauntered around the back streets of Osaka's Hueco Muendo suburbs like an imitation of a stray alley cat, avoiding his real intentions of returning home. There was a slight smile on his face upon walking up the steps to his house, opening the door – he knew his mother was probably passed out somewhere inside, so he didn't have to worry about any confrontations. Stepping through the door into the dankly lit house, the paint chipped walls were barely visible from the doorway. With a cautious push backwards of the wooden door frame, the blunette shut it quietly and trekked down the hallway into his room.
Heading his own thoughts, Grimmjow tread lightly.
His smile grew a little wider when he made it to his bedroom, silently locking the door he changed out of his clothes that smelt of malted weed and cigarettes and jumped into bed.
Shutting his sapphire like eyes, Grimmjow prayed for a quick escape in the morning.
After impartially waiting for yesterday to pass by, Ichigo had long anticipated his return to work.
The orangette was never one to be set on standby when it came to the profession he was passionate about; Ichigo would often curse at his own idiosyncratic tendencies when it came to idly wasting the days away.
When things started to become stale between his long term friends at university, the friendship he shared turned transparent. What once used to be heart filled conversations and discussions between Tatsuki, Orihime and Chad, suddenly turned into superficial hello's and dips of the head between classes and lunch breaks.
Pitiful school yard alienation from his friends was the new black, Ichigo was used to this type of treatment all his life though. Ever since high school, the thugs and bullies thought it would be a grand idea to beat down on him for standing out in a crowd, the orangette spat at the thought of been a singularity amongst the norm.
After wasting away what could have been a perfect day to complete various medical forms and prescriptions for the inmates at the Soul Society clinic, Ichigo's quashed attempt to return to work only lead to an unproductive day of cleaning and burning the four hundred grams of packet Soba noodles he cooked for dinner.
Shift work disharmonized the Doctor's routine, and to be thrust back into a nominal 'day off' only lead to a disgruntled Ichigo. Socialization was honestly out of the question for the orangette, his current friends and acquaintances were all padlocked by the same shift work routine he was bound by. Ichigo slowly figured that down time with friends at the prison was a packaged deal given the circumstances of his already crumby friendships anyway.
Renji, Shuuhei, Ikkaku and even Doctor Unohana were all good to talk to at times, but if he were to count the times he was actually able to socialize outside of the prison in the four months he'd been working there.
It'd be a blank tally.
Ever since the orangette entered the final years of his doctorate at university, the time for socialization was little – between the excessive amounts of study and late night cramming, it became dinosaur extinct amongst the undergraduate students serious about their career paths.
Today was a clean slate for the labour bent Doctor though – upon waking up, showering and eating one slice of toast – the orangette contemplated the state of his work place.
Doctor Unohana was always reliable due to the fact that his female senior had been in this type of practice for many years. Ichigo always appreciated her constant tutelage and knew that she'd be able to take over his duties at the clinic, following his absence in the past few days.
The kempt spring atmosphere bought Ichigo's joy into fruition following the twenty minute drive to the Soul Society. Upon entering administration in the grandeur white building out front, Ichigo proceeded to the Doctor's Station once again – trailing along that same war path, mentally preparing for the day ahead.
"Ya shouldn't coop ya 'self up in here like this Ichi, it'll all go to ya head." Renji's voice broke the labouring silence, upon entering the Doctor's Station early before, Ichigo had stuck his head down into the depths of the retrograding paper work that piled up during his absence.
"Hn? What of it? You try being forced off work for a few days only to return to mountains of prescription forms and observation requests that've been thrown across your desk." Ichigo interjected his banter, it was one thing to actually sit in a room with an unoccupied Renji – but it escalated to a whole new level when the prison officer started interrupting his own work.
Before he'd arrived, Renji had accompanied him and informed Ichigo that for the next month or two, he would be shadowed by a prison officer so they could deter any internal conflicts with prisoners and other personnel. He immediately understood the underlying fear that Kensei expressed for him when it came to his own protection, but it frustrated Ichigo when it seemed as if Kensei thought he couldn't defend himself.
Was he honestly coming off as a defenceless child in this place?
The orangette hadn't had a chance to question Kensei's provisions yet, but after he certified all of the forms and had a moment to confront the Warden Officer – he would.
"Your jobs boring, this is boring. How'n the hell do you sit here day in day out without any action?" Renji proceeded all too childishly, if it wasn't for the fact that the orangette medic was actually grateful to return to his beloved station – he probably would have castrated Renji with his pen by now.
"As opposed to acting all manly and tough standing around all day and trying to find a chance to rough up some prisoner because they looked at you funny?" Ichigo refuted sarcastically from his desk, ritually signing each form away with a wistful flick of his pen.
"Besides, I don't know anyone who wouldn't look at you funny. With your hair tied up like that."
"You wanna watch yourself Ichigo." Renji replied in a serious tone of voice, despite only knowing the tattooed officer for only four months – Ichigo knew the man prided himself on what he liked to called his 'devilish' looks.
"Mm, your such a hot shot." The Doctor replied rolling his eyes, Renji often exerted an aura of physical debauchery – "Anyway, since it's not worth disputing Kensei's decision in you becoming the annoying tail on my behind, I have a form here to go and collect a prisoner called 'Dordoni' who's been complaining of a soreness in his oesophagus." Ichigo informed after placing the rest of the certified paperwork aside.
"Ya gonna dumb it down for me or?"
"Don't worry dumbass, do you know if the prisoners are on release yet?" Ichigo questioned, grabbing Renji by the shoulder to move him outwards, the officer was blinking in confusion.
"Is there somethin' in your ears or did ya work really get to your head? The call was put over the PA almost an hour ago, dumbass." The tattooed officer cast back with a colourful smirk, the pair exited the sanitary space and headed for the court yards.
When the prisoners were out on release, the Doctor had to manually find or request a patient to be sent to the station, Ichigo was all too happy to go for a wander in hopes of satisfying Renji's endless boredom.
"Hey Ichi." He perked up from behind, matching Ichigo's pace. "I forgot to ask, how're ya feeling after that incident a 'couple of days ago?
Continuing his stride, the orangette contemplated for a moment. What he really wanted to say was it did impact on him, even if it was only a little, the intent to kill and sombre expression he saw in the criminals eyes were put on a haunting replay in his thoughts.
He also wanted to relay his inner most truths to Renji, and tell him that he was stressed by it, but the orangette knew he couldn't come across as weak or Kensei would find out and be on his ass like a moth to a flame.
"Thinkin' nothing of it Renji." He lied through his bare teeth, lifting an unthoughtful shrug, Ichigo noticed the red head pursing his lips in wake of his response.
The sound of footsteps sung out through the corridor leading outside to the prison courtyards, it was a momentary silence between the two before Renji piped up – "Anyway, who're we lookin' for again?"
Walking along a little more, Ichigo recalled the name to his co-worked – "A man named Dordoni, know of him?"
"There's hundreds of lowlifes in this scum hole and you expect me to remember every single one of them? Tch." He replied with that dynamic baritone, when Renji got like this it was often hard to distinguish between the banter they shared and the seriousness of the prison routine. Though, it sounded more like sarcasm than anything else.
The Doctor groaned a little before exiting the foyer, he thought it to be a little selfish of him to be sent on a chase when he spent the last couple of days sheepishly whining about the lack of unproductiveness in his personal life.
"S'pose we could ask another inmate, it might be easier." Ichigo posed considerately, he knew how Renji hated the prisoners and would often smack down on them a little harshly if they became uncooperative.
The sun was beating down on the two as they entered the court yards, the bright noon rays evaporated the stigmatic environment of the prison.
Various inmates were sauntered around fences and railings in groups of threes and fours, it was almost like an atypical school yard – with convicted thugs and gang members though. Some of the criminals were passing balls between them, stroking the hands of time away.
"Who do you suggest we ask?" Ichigo questioned Renji who had his arms crossed.
"How tha' hell should I know? Just pick one and do the talking, I don't wanna be near one."
Ignoring his subjective remark about the inmates, Ichigo and Renji stood from afar observing the various cliques – trying to single someone out that would cooperate with the two entirely. Sure there were other guards stationed throughout the fields, but they were distanced from afar with only a watchful eye to observe.
Ichigo had no idea what the man 'Dordoni' actually looked like and Renji was never one to remember faces in this place, so asking another inmate seemed like a good idea – until it came to a matter of selecting one that would again; actually cooperate.
"Seems like ya lost somethin'?" An icy voice erupted from behind, Renji was first to spin around an identify the inmate. Ichigo's own gaze followed and he took note of a familiar white complexion.
"Judgin' by that look I guess I'm right, I could help ya find the thing ya lost but it comes with a price." The inmate suggested.
"Get lost whitey." Renji grumbled.
"You been wakin' up on tha wrong side of the bed again Red?" The albino questioned with an impish laugh, his navy blue uniform was baggy on his form.
With a grunt, Ichigo watched the tattooed officer pull a domineering stance. "How's ya nose? Didn't get beat up on in the showers did'ya? My guess is you deserved it for wha–"
"Renji!" Ichigo blurted out loudly, pulling the officer backwards before he said anything stupid, the orangette stepped forward. The inmate, who Ichigo remembered to be the transferee from the other day – narrowed those demonic eyes at Renji, zeroing in on his face.
Ichigo didn't feel any coercion from being in his presence like he did the other day in the Doctor's check up.
"Yeah, we're looking for someone actually, a man named Dordoni. Know of him?" Ichigo questioned hopefully.
Shirosaki's eyes opened a little and shifted onto Ichigo, the orangette noticed a glimmering amount of heart ache in his golden quartz like eyes.
"Perhaps, but it might cost ya – I know a lotta faces in this place already." That shrill monotone coaxed, it wasn't exactly against procedure to bargain with an inmate – but it was frowned upon.
"Tell you what, I'm quite busy today so if you can tell us where he is I'll follow you up with a favour next time I see you okay?" Ichigo offered, Renji whom he was holding back, began shifting in his grip.
"Careful Ichi, ya don't wanna go makin' deals with scum."
"Renji." Ichigo barked at him with dwindling patience, an abrupt silence broke out between the three, Ichigo watched Shiro contemplate again.
"Eh, I trust' ya Doc. You've been good to me so far, but I want ya word on that favour."
Ichigo smiled a little, knowing the game of huntsman was drawing to a close. Bargaining with the perplex albino was a lot easier than he originally thought.
"Thanks for this! I usually keep my promises." Ichigo replied reassuringly, all the while Renji backed off from the two.
"I usually see 'im on the far end of the second court just ova' there, but look out Doc! Seems like Blue's taken an interest in ya." His voiced returned to that icy tone, before either Ichigo or Renji could comment – Shirosaki's voice fell down another octave into a seedy monotone.
"Or maybe he just wants ta carve up ya body."
The Doctor's shoulders tensed, the idea in itself was disconcerting. That once absent coercion had returned to his mind and clicked Ichigo's paranoia up a notch.
"Don't worry 'bout Blue, he's been a little grouchy in tha last couple days though. I'm sure he'll warm up to ya… Or maybe not, just don't forget that favour." He rang out with a heart filled chuckle, Renji and Ichigo watched the deathly inmate break away from their huddle, out of site – his baggy uniform bobbing in a coast of swaying arms and feet.
"Fuckin' freak." Renji commented, all the while Ichigo was inwardly fretting a little – attempting to shove the thoughts of trepidation to the back of his mind. The memories from the other day were slowly creeping past his defences.
"Yeah, let's just find this guy and get this check up over and done with." Ichigo suggested to Renji beside him – the two began to walk over in the direction of the second court Shirosaki had recommended to look at.
Unbeknownst to the Doctor himself, a set of vicious sapphire eyes were firmly locked onto him from behind the groups of common thugs, loitering around the courts.
Osaka Japan, 15 years earlier.
Sleep was something a teenage Grimmjow often cherished when he could, due to the increased emotional and physical ailments he endured in the passing year – it was hard to bag a good night's rest.
He stirred a little in his bed, his bladder was full and he really needed to chuck a piss.
Shifting a little more from under the sheets, his mind slowly faded from a blissful unconsciousness. Stretching his arms and legs out, Grimmjow relieved the tensions from stiff joints and ligaments – the echoing cracks shot off the walls of his room.
Grimmjow felt invigorated with a resurgent energy after sleeping so well, the sun shone brightly through the mattered blinds as he lazily slumped out of bed. He rubbed a lot of sleep away from his eyes, the blunette teen moved along towards his door. Mind still foggy from his rest.
The door began to creak and he unlocked it and swung the wooden frame open, entering the hallways and walking downwards to the annex at the back of his house. Opening the toilet door, he relived his once full bladder into the bowl – flushing it and washing his hands he yawned again. The soapy water dripped onto his labyrinth like set of blue hair, randomly sprawled out in various directions like a vibrant blue fire cracker exploding in the night sky.
Grimmjow exited the bathroom and walked into the living room.
"So the big man of the house is awake?"
The blunette teen's complexion arched in a little.
"Huh?"
"Where the fuck do you think you've been? Walking in an out of this house, do you think you're a fucking adult?" She smacked the surface of the table, an irritable cacophony assaulted Grimmjow's morning ridden senses.
Gritting his teeth together, the blunette could already feel the tension building up in his jaw bone. He hated her outbursts; it made him feel physically sick.
"Why the hell do you care?" He snapped back silently under his breath, all too fearful to provoke her any further. Grimmjow hated being yelled at, but he also hated the suffocation of his own cowardice.
"Care? Why the hell do I care? All I fucking do is care about you. You think you can fucking walk around the streets like a fucking adult when you're nothing but a child?"
It became apparent to Grimmjow at this point, her sober outbursts were much more aggressive than her alcoholic temperaments. Another loud smack ruptured through the air, she slammed down on the table again.
"Look at me when I fucking talk!"
On command, his gaze unwillingly moved onto his mothers, her brown eyes and white teeth were bearing like an animal going in for the kill. She was vicious when she was angered and the blunette couldn't surface any courage to talk back.
The woman was his own kryptonite, a potent poison that paralysed any nerve or reaction to flee. She stepped over to him, her large form towering above Grimmjow's. She wasn't effeminate like most mothers' he knew, but she was larger with black hair and a slightly rounded face.
He inwardly sicked at the site of her, the wretched stench of decaying alcohol flooding out from her mouth was even worse.
"If you're a real man you would've faced up to your problems, you're nothing like your father." The woman that said she supposedly 'cared' about him only a few minutes early, shoved him aggressively into the wall.
"If I catch you sneaking out again I'll break your fucking bones you hear?"
Grimmjow whimpered a little from amongst the floor, his mother never paid any remorse for her abusive actions. He heard the door slam, his arm and head were pounding with profuse aches and pains.
Whatever hope he had for a quick escape in the morning was defused like a bomb, the blunette's life was fucking shit.
Blue eyes began to water as he continued to lie there on the floor, the silence pervading his thoughts. The pain would normally make him cry out and beg for rescue, but it was a pathetic plight.
It was weak.
He hobbled upwards and dragged his mangled body across to his bedroom, stomach churning. Grimmjow threw himself gently onto the bed and whimpered out into the silence…
"Daddy?"
Playing it over a few times in his head, the inmate came to the conclusion that the doctor thought he cared about him. Nobody ever cared about him, he was always treated like a fucking waste and he wouldn't let someone encroach on what he'd become now.
Watching the orange haired prick trail along the court yards, the site of the bastard seethed into his system.
He fisted the air a little as he walked off, Grimmjow was longing for a cigarette to reduce the stress of this place and the people he couldn't stand sight of.
"Move cock suckers." He shouted out, the inmates that were originally blocking his path parted in haste like the red sea. Already a couple days into the change of scenery, the blunette refused to participate in any down time or make conversation with anyone. Shiro had already stretched his patience, and now that the Doctor was back parading around on his high horse, it began nudging his rage.
Already disliking the clothes, the cells and the tattered bed he slept on at night – things became apparent to Grimmjow when he noticed the people here were far by the worst feature he'd experienced in any prison.
"I'm not gonna last another fuckin' year in this place if those dog wanking pricks keep mocking me." He muttered through his clenched teeth, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques already rejected the place and the people in it. Especially that white haired rapist and the fucking doctor.
Finally, I was able to chew something out after my hiatus. Hopefully you enjoyed all of your Christmas' and New Year's.
Thanks again!