The night was blurry, powdered with snow. He didn't remember much. Meeting Nel at her workplace cafeteria, going outside for a smoke and then meeting Renji at the bar, drinking, drinking more, until laughter flowed from his lips more easily than it had in years. Renji had survived these years almost unchanged and it had been a great comfort to Ichigo to see that his friend was still obsessed with tacky sunglasses and soccer, the latter of which was of course only natural if you were a player from one of the most famous clubs in the country.

Ichigo remembered that Grimmjow had supported this club. Something Munich. Munich something? He really should have remembered the name, but when he confessed to Renji that he didn't know it the other redhead had only laughed and waved a hand in dismissal.

"I don't exactly blame ya," his old friend had said, smiling. "After me being AWOL all these years...can't expect any better huh?"

Ichigo had opened his mouth to protest but Renji shushed him before he could say a word. "Naw man, it's OK. I understand. You had other stuff to deal with. Bigger fish to fry." He shrugged, slid a sideways glance. "You look...uh, tired. If you don't mind me saying so."

Ichigo snorted, "'If you don't mind me saying so?' Who am I talking to right now, the queen of England? Just say what you mean."

"Hey, excuse me if I've grown up in the last few years or so, huh! I'm not such a shit-talking little asshole anymore." He jabbed a thumb at his chest, which was puffed out in pride. "I'm a professional soccer playing shit-talking asshole now! Ain't you proud, Ichi?"

The nickname seemed to slip out before he could stop it. The low chatter of the people in the bar around them seemed to fade. Renji paused, a beat, then took a swig of beer. Ichigo didn't know if it was the alcohol, but he looked like he was blushing.

"Sorry," Renji said roughly, "I shouldn't call you that. I don't have the right. I've been a shitty friend."

"Renji, stop it-"

"You know it's true. You know it. Everyone knows it. I know it. But I..." He was struggling, opening and closing his mouth. Finally, he settled on, "I didn't know what else to do. I did it because...well...uh..."

Whatever he had to say, it was clearly causing him some trouble. Ichigo raised an eyebrow and waited.

After a surreptitious glance around the booth they were seated in, Renji leaned in forwards, close to him. Ichigo could smell his musky, woody aftershave, and underneath it, a hint of barley tea, the way he had always smelled. That smell hadn't changed since the days where they had trained at the Shinigami Academy together, and it wrapped around him like a comforting scarf.

Renji muttered, "I know you went through a hard time. I can't even imagine it. I know you loved him..." His face twitched. "I know you loved him more than anything else. I didn't know what to say. Or do. You were so..." A helpless motion with his hands. "You know? And I thought...this isn't fair. I'm off to play soccer, to follow my dream, do what I've always wanted, I can't – being around you, I thought it would only make it harder for you, you know? I thought...why am I having all this good luck right now? It ain't fair. I didn't want to rub it in your face. I knew you wanted to be left alone. I thought...when you felt better, you'd start talking to me again. You know, I tried!" A note of defensiveness crept into his voice. "I called back into town, asked around, everyone said you'd up and left for England and you didn't really contact anyone anymore, not even Rukia or Orihime or Chad or nothing. So, y'know, I thought, shit why the hell would he want to talk to me now? I can't just waltz into his life like nothing ever happened -"

"Of course you can Renji," Ichigo said, "that's what I just did, right?"

His face fell guiltily and Ichigo cursed himself. "No, that's not what I meant! I mean, it's cool. Water under the bridge. I understand. I was hard to be around, I get it."

"It ain't your fault!" he rushed to say. "I mean, there was lotsa shit happening at the same time, some stuff you, uh, don't know about...well, that no one really knows about."

Ichigo might have been imagining the blush before, but he certainly was not now. Renji was turning as red as his hair, fiddling with his empty beer bottle. He was staring at it intently, peeling off the label in scraps.

Ichigo sighed. "Hey, take off those stupid sunglasses, everyone can see your hair. People already know who you are, you might as well just give it up OK? Look me in the eye and tell me what's bothering you."

For a while, the other man didn't answer him. But then, finally, Renji sighed and pushed the bottle away, slipping off the glasses and looking at Ichigo very earnestly, like a dog being reprimanded. "Well...OK first, you have to promise not to judge me."

"Wow, not a good start. Also, I can't promise that but carry on!"

"Fuck. OK. Well." He cleared his throat. "You remember before graduation, me and Rukia, we were having problems? And we broke up and stuff? Um. There were a few reasons for that." He coughed into a fist awkwardly, looking around to make sure no one was listening. "OK so, there was a party at her place. Kind of a chill thing, not too many people...actually I think it was after that game me and you played together, you remember, there was a foul when some guy kicked you...rain was pissing down...the game finished, and you and Grimmjow went off somewhere, I dunno..."

Renji shrugged. Ichigo remembered that night. Walking to the graveyard, fighting (about what? He couldn't recall – but then he and Grimmjow had always been bickering about something), holding hands in the rain, the pride he had felt seeing that bright blue hair amongst the crowd...

"I remember that game," he said.

"There was a party after," Renji said, "at Rukia's. It was getting late, people were leaving and I was just kinda hanging round, y'know, in one of those big empty rooms they have. Byakuya appears from somewhere and I'm totally ready to duke it out with him, for some reason I was so pissed, but he was totally calm and nice to me, and I'm weirded out by it...anyway we end up talking. Just a normal nice conversation except I'm stupid drunk and..."

At this point, Renji became even redder than his hair. He couldn't meet Ichigo's eyes.

"And...?" Ichigo prompted.

"Well. We, uh..." He looked like he would rather be anywhere else but in that tiny booth. "We kind of. Um. Sort of. Kissed?"

For a moment, there was only white noise. Then it sank in. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Me and Byakuya." He was trying to sink into the cushions. It looked like you could have fried an egg on his forehead. "We – we kissed."

Ichigo's mouth fell open. He stared at Renji in silence for full ten seconds, then repeated, "What? You and...kissed? Byakuya? Kissed? A guy? Rukia's brother? Kissed? Holy..." He was flapping his mouth open and shut, astounded. "Wait, so that's the real reason you and Rukia broke up? Holy crap, dude, you kissed her big brother...a dude? I didn't even know you liked guys!"

"I did," he muttered. "Well, actually, I wanted to talk to you about that too...Ichigo, I-"

"Itsygoooo! There you are! Oh, and Renji too, so cool! Back together again, just like high school!"

As soon as she arrived, Hurricane Nel swept them up into a frenzy of sea-foam green and more beer ("I want to see how much you can drink now, Itsygo, now you're English and all! They drink a lot, right?") until he felt flushed and hot, unsteady on his feet. He noticed the tense, furtive glances Renji kept throwing at him, but kept being distracted by the feeling of being watched, and looked around at the packed bar to see who it might be. The other two, oblivious, plied him with alcohol and reminisced happily about their high school days, pointedly ignoring the months leading up to graduation.

Unfortunately by this point Renji had been noticed by the majority of the patrons, several of whom had come over to ask for a picture with him, and so it was difficult to determine the source of the intense gaze he felt. With a jolt, he thought he recognised the man he had seen earlier at Nel's work watching them, but a soft hand on his shoulder distracted his thoughts, and he shook his head; of course someone from her work was here, hadn't she said this was a popular spot for people to come and drink afterwards?

"Itsygo?" Nel smiled at him sweetly. "Oh, you're so drunk! You totally haven't changed, you still can't handle your alcohol at all. Come on, let's go home. You can crash at my place tonight."

They hauled him upright, helping stuff a hat over his unruly orange hair and wrapping a woolen scarf tight around his neck. Outside the biting cold helped clear his head and he thought again about what Renji had told him.

"Hey," he hissed to the other man several minutes later, while Nel was occupied with her phone, "dude, we still need to talk. You can't just leave it at that bombshell, you need to follow it up!"

"I know," Renji hissed back, "but we can't exactly talk about it now!"

Nel's sudden gasp stopped them both. "Oh, no, guys wait...I think we're going the wrong way!" She turned in a circle, looking intently at her phone. "Uh...yes, definitely the wrong way. I, uh, actually never come to this bar sooo...I'll be honest, I'm not sure where we are."

Renji seemed to perk up. "Oh, me and Ichigo'll wait here then. Maybe go ask someone? My phone's ran out of battery."

"But...there's no one here," Nel said. They looked around; it was past midnight and a light snow had begun to fall. The street they were on was narrow and crooked, with small dark alleyways branching off here and there, and there was no one else in sight.

"We'll wait there, away from the snow," Renji pointed to the entrance of an alley, which opened up next to a small bakery. A sign in the shape of a fat loaf of bread with a smiling face was swinging gently in the breeze. "Just find this happy bread place when you come back to find us. It's probably better if you go ask alone, no point in all three of us wandering around getting cold and cranky huh?"

Nel frowned. "That doesn't make any sense, you guys should come along too...what if I get lost by myself?"

"Just call me! You have my number right?"

"But you said your phone-"

He pushed her along gently. "See you!"

She gave him a strange look but didn't protest, pulling her hat down firmly over her ears as she left to ask for directions. As soon as she was out of earshot Renji grabbed Ichigo's sleeve and pulled him into the alleyway, past several over-full trashcans and dumpsters. The wind died down almost immediately and though it wasn't exactly cosy, Ichigo could finally tug down the scarf to his neck and breathe without the saliva in his mouth freezing solid.

"Wow, real smooth there Renji. You're still a master of subtlety, I see."

"Shut up. At least we can talk now."

"What if she does get lost? You know how bad Nel is with directions!"

Renji flapped a hand. "She'll be fine. At least she speaks the language. Anyway, you wanted to talk!"

"Yeah, but-"

"I needed to tell you something." The urgency in his voice stopped Ichigo short. "I was going to tell you at the bar, but Nel barged in. The truth is..."

He seemed to fight with his words again. Ichigo waited, scowling with confusion, until Renji grabbed his shoulders tightly, eyes as intense as Ichigo had ever seen them, and the confusion become concern.

"Hey, are you OK?"

"I'm OK. Well. Not really." His skin was almost green, he seemed so nervous; clashing with the red hair, Renji looked like some kind of ridiculous Christmas mascot. The fingers around Ichigo's shoulders tightened. "There was just...I needed to tell you something important. I tried to, you know, just there, but Nel...anyway. Um. You remember, in high school, we used to fool around and pretend we were, uh, together. Remember?"

"Yeah, I remember..."

"Uh, well. I know it was just, you know, pretend or whatever. For fun. For you. And it was pretty funny for me too, at first...but..."

The cogs were slowly winding in his head. Ichigo thought he knew what his friend wanted to say, but he couldn't believe it. "But...?"

In a flash Renji's hand were tucked under his armpits and he shuffled awkwardly, looking at the ground, the sky, the wall, anywhere but Ichigo. "But I kind of...after a while...I wasn't, uh...I wasn't really pretending."

A beat.

In the space of just a few hours, Renji had dropped two massive bombshells on him and all Ichigo could do was stare. His mouth open and shut, like a fish out of water. He felt like it had been happening to him a lot recently.

"You mean...? You liked me? As in, you liked liked me?"

The only answer he got was a grunt, and an evasive sideways glance. Renji's skin had turned from green to white to red, and in any other situation Ichigo would have been impressed.

"You liked me? When? How long? I didn't...I had no idea!"

"Of course you didn't. No one did. I didn't tell anyone." He shrugged. "I guess, maybe when you started hanging out with him so much after just being one of my best friends, I was jealous. And I thought, well we're close but it's OK, people are allowed other friends after all." He looked straight into Ichigo's eyes and smiled a little sadly. "But when you told us about you and him being together, it felt different. I never felt like that before. When Rukia told me about other boys while I liked her, yeah I was jealous but I could still sense she liked me, you know? But you...I knew you didn't like me like that. Even if you pretended you did. It was just a game to you."

"Renji!" Ichigo stepped closer to him. This time, it was he who grabbed the other's arms, shaking him slightly. "I had no idea! If you had told me, I would have totally stopped-"

"I didn't want you to," the other man said, with a twist of the mouth that was more of a grimace than a smile. "I'm pretty sure Rukia figured it out, towards the end. When I told her about Byakuya, she mentioned you, but I was so sure I'd hidden it well. You know how lowkey I like to be."

"You're about as lowkey as an atomic bomb, idiot." Ichigo's voice was soft. He and Renji were standing very close. Snowflakes had alighted on long red eyelashes framing dark brown eyes, eyes that he thought he had known so well. All those years, and he had never even suspected-

What would happen if I kissed him right now? he thought, Does he still like me? Is this why he stopped talking to me, because he felt awkward, he didn't want to tell me? Renji, you phenomenal idiot!

The world shivered around them, just an instant floating in time where any possible action would have changed the path of his life. He had felt moments like that before, paths branching into other paths, the road he walked coming to a crossroads. Just a millisecond of hesitation changed everything. Those lips were right in front of him, slightly parted and dry from the cold. If he kissed Renji -

An ear-shattering metallic crash almost made them both jump out of their skin.

"Fuck!"

"What the shit was that?"

They looked around wildly. At the mouth of the alley, a trashcan was on its side, garbage and black bags scattered on the snowy ground. They looked at it, then at each other.

"What the hell?" Renji muttered, striding towards it and poking a bag with the toe of his boot. He looked around. "Must've been a fox."

Ichigo cleared his throat. He couldn't believe what he had been considering. He must have been more drunk than he thought. "Yeah. Let's go find Nel. She's been gone a while, she probably got lost."

Grimmjow was seething. He had not felt such acute rage in years – no amount of meditation, no amount of beating the shit out of a punching bag would tether this fury. There they were, two long figures in the dark with powdered snow falling around them, the perfect romantic picture. They were standing far too close, heads bent towards each other.

He had good hearing. He knew what they were talking about. He knew what Abarai Renji was saying, he knew how that bastard had felt about Ichigo, he had always known. The only person blind to it had been Ichigo himself. Naive, idealistic Ichigo, who had never seen the pining look in his best friend's eyes until now.

The moment Ichigo had stepped closer to Abarai, Grimmjow could feel it, the shaking of the world as it fluffed itself up, ready to settle back down again and preen its feathers like a duck about to dive into the water. Every kiss was a momentous occasion, no matter how or when or why it happened; two people looked at each other, and there was always a moment, even if it was less than a millisecond, a pause when time was not time anymore, it was nothing but liquid opportunity and what if and I want to-

There was no thinking on his part. Of its own accord his leg up and kicked the trashcan; it fell to the ground with a satisfying, deafening crash.

Perhaps he had overdone it. There was a dent in the side. It had flown several feet away from its original position.

There had been no reasoning, no second-guessing. His mind had not been screaming What in God's name are you doing, you dumbfuck!? - but now it was.

Get away, get away, get away!

He turned.

Fuck!

Nelliel was walking in his direction. If she saw him, she would recognise him. She had eaten at the cafeteria numerous times, enough to tell him that she loved what he had done with the menu, how he had turned the place around. And he couldn't go into the alleyway – the other two were approaching, he could hear their voices getting closer.

Think, Jaegerjaques!

A deep breath. He had gotten himself out of worse situations.

C'mon, think think think THINK!

He started walking briskly away from all three of them, in the opposite direction. If he walked for five or ten more minutes, he knew there was a train station this way and despite the late hour there would be several bars still open and some night buses still running. He was a normal person, out late at night after a party at a friend's place, taking the bus back home. That was it. Nothing suspicious. Nothing suicidal. Nothing crazy, like endangering the lives of the man he loved and the people he loved.

The word 'love' popped up in his mind like a balloon breaking through the surface of a body of water. Grimmjow almost faltered but kept walking. His heart was hammering a short, staccato rhythm against his ribs and when he slid his hand into a pocket he felt the crumpled pack of cigarettes Ichigo had unknowingly handed him that very same night.

"What the fuck am I doing?" he whispered to himself.

I still love him.

Knowing this and realizing this were two ideas that were worlds away from each other. He had known, really, that he still loved Ichigo – why else would he continue to live such a shadow of a life? Why else would he keep those mementos of their time together, despite the risk it posed? He had known, yet he had not realized, until those two heads, orange and red, had drifted closer and closer to each other, that he would rather have died than see Ichigo kiss someone else.

His pace quickened. There were many things to do. Hirako Shinji had to be informed, Shawlong had to be contacted for an update of Aizen's behaviour, those who had survived had to be tracked: Ulquiorra, Yammy, Szayel, countless others. Grimmjow knew for a fact Zommari Leroux would be searching for him in France, while Ulquiorra would be doing the same in Germany.

So far, he had managed to avoid them. Many had chosen to betray Aizen, having been approached by Hirako and his team based on Grimmjow's guidance, but out of those several had clearly been assassinated, and he didn't know who was next. He didn't know how much Aizen knew, if Ichigo had already been seen here, what would happen now that he and Ichigo were now – improbably, impossibly – both travelling down parallel roads. He thought of statistics, the probability of a comet smashing into the Earth, instead of passing it by; what chain of events, what kind of impossible numbers, endless situations, did it take for this kind of thing to happen?

Grimmjow had never believed in fate or destiny or God, but right now they were all testing him.

As soon as he arrived home he slammed the door shut, locked it, and closed every window. Holing himself away in his room he searched for his latest disposable phone and hoped against hope that he would be able to make an outgoing call. So far, in all these long years, he had never once attempted to contact Hirako Shinji but his gut was telling him that now, it was time.

It rang once, twice, three times – he waited for someone to pick up but no one did. He couldn't leave a voicemail, an obvious security measure. Of course, every step designed to keep him safe only ever ended up causing him maddening frustration.

"Come on, you motherfucker, answer your goddamn fucking phone-"

The time difference was irrelevant. This news was worth waking up for. He tried again and again and again but no one picked up and Grimmjow was on the urge of hurling the useless device out of the window, until he stopped himself and took a deep breath.

This isn't the end, he told himself firmly. I'll call someone else. Shawlong – no, what if he's with Aizen right fucking now? Fuck. Who else? Not Ilforte. No one with Hirako will pick up. Dad? Dad. Fuck.

It was his only choice. He dialed, it rang, and his father picked up almost immediately.

"Hello-?"

"It's me. I don't have much time. I need to get in contact with Hirako."

A deep, indrawn breath. "What – what are you doing? This is dangerous, you know he said-"

"I know what he said! But things have changed fast. Barragan is dead. And...and Kurosaki is here."

Grimmjow could not bring himself to say Ichigo's name. That name had only ever been whispered into orange hair, into the delicate shell of Ichigo's ear, the curve of his neck. It had been said during rainy nights curled up in bed together, long fingers stroking through blue hair until he fell asleep to the sound of his own name chanted like a hymn. He had never said it aloud to anyone else. It was private, a prayer, an answer to a prayer.

The silence on the other end meant his father was disturbed. For once, he was being serious, but then this was a serious situation and he knew it.

"I'll contact him now," his father said. "Don't do anything stupid. Call in sick for a few days. Understand?"

"Yeah."

A pause. "I love you. Please don't be stupid."

"Too bad. I must have got it from you." Grimmjow hung up. His heart was still racing. His hands were clammy and he wiped them on his shirt.

Call in sick. Don't do anything stupid. In other words – lie low.

He had no intention of doing that.

Grimmjow was packing his suitcase before he even knew what he was doing. His hands obeyed while his conscious mind was in overdrive, aware of the noose tightening around his neck.

It won't be long until he finds me, he thought, unless I go find him first. Draw him out, like poison. Doesn't matter if I die this time.

An image superimposed on the back of his eyelids, two heads close together in the snow, orange and red, red and orange, closer and closer and closer. His chest felt like it was being crushed.

It won't matter if I die, he repeated to himself, I'm already dead. I've been dead for years. It's time I came back to life. And he's here anyway, he'll be safe. He has friends here. He'll stay a while. Probably. He has Abarai now. He'll be safe. While he's here, I should go. Best thing for everyone.

He was shaking too hard to answer the phone when it rung. After a second or two he composed himself and held it to his ear.

Hirako hissed at him. "You better have a damn good reason to-"

"Kurosaki's here. I just saw him."

"...What?"

Grimmjow explained, in a clipped voice – the encounter with Ichigo at his work, Barragan's recent death, the possibility of being discovered. He left out the part about following the three friends from the bar and kicking over the trashcan. Somehow he thought it wouldn't go over too well.

"I decided recently," he said, "there's no use running away. He'll still catch me, like he did the others. Like he almost caught Stark."

"You can't decide anything-"

"Hirako, listen to me. This is my life. I already died once, I can do it again. Like I said, I've decided. Remember, you had that plan?"

"The plan?" A sigh. "Oh. That plan."

"Right. We'll put it into action now. Don't argue with me on this! How long have we been chasing our tails here? How many people have died because of it? You and I both know running and hiding is useless."

"It saved yer life!"

"If you can call this a life."

"This is too fuckin' much!" Hirako exploded. "We have not worked our asses off for years for you to just decide one day that you've had enough and come runnin' back! You know how much organisation this stuff takes? Weeks, months, years of planning, mountains of evidence, and he's still out there oozin' around somewhere! You think you can solve this by yerself?"

"Of course not. That's why you have that plan." He paused. "Anyway, it's too late. I just bought tickets for Tokyo. I leave in a few hours."

Hirako Shinji rarely cursed, Grimmjow had found. In those following minutes it seemed five years' worth of stored expletives rained down upon him like a meteor shower but he stood and listened to every word because, after all, the man had saved his life. He owed him that much.

When he had finished, Grimmjow said, "Well, I guess I'll see you when I get there huh? Toodles."

There was a muffled scream before he hung up and he found his mouth splitting in a shit-eating grin. He went to the bathroom and looked at himself. Dull eyes, pudgy nose, weak chin; it took a supreme effort to resist peeling all the prosthetics from his face there and then, but he contented himself with the thought that this man in front of him, average, boring, everyman Leon Muller would soon be gone forever. He couldn't wait. He would finally be himself again, fully and unapologetically, down to the blue hair and the terrible attitude. Grimmjow had decided that he would rather die as himself than live as a shadow, even if that shadow had been cast by a blinding orange light that he still loved with an intensity that hurt.

That light had, after all, led him out of the shadows and the darkness and the pain so many years ago – who was to say it wouldn't do the same again now?