Chapter 6: The Beginning

We...were late for Mr. Sumner's class. However, that wasn't the worst part. Even after receiving, what could be seen as, a lifetime's worth of detentions (Sumner's were the worst—you were stuck with him and only him for hours on end), there was worse to come. Yes, there actually was worse, as difficult as that is to believe.

We had arrived to find the classroom bustling with noise. At first, we had thought that Mr. Sumner was late (that wasn't very likely, though) or...we were being assigned group projects. It wasn't either, though. I had stepped in on the classroom to find that we were making groups for a trip. That would explain the class's excitement.

It wasn't that we were going on a trip that got to me—it was that we were stopping at France. France—my home country; where my damned family lived. I swore that I could hear Leroy snickering somewhere.

It was, what, mid-April—nearing the beginning of May? We were going to be going in two weeks (I was pretty sure that this was what the class had been discussing weeks ago. Of course, then, destinations had not been chosen yet.) Yeah, it was something like that. We were going from France to...Germany, too. This was, oddly, convenient. Well, that would be because Ulquiorra was from Germany—no other reason, really, to say such a thing.

Ulquiorra, however, was trembling—not quite as violently as he had the night before, but he was trembling. There was fear in his eyes—the fear he had when he had called for his mother—called for his mother to stop. What was going on? What was going on with his family?

"Ulquiorra...?" I asked gently, nudging him with my elbow. He didn't answer—it seemed more as though he couldn't answer, but I didn't ask him—it just didn't seem right to. I hadn't the right to ask him nor was it my place to. Besides, his eyes, despite the blatant terror in them, were distant...almost as though his mind was in a place entirely not here. Perhaps, it wasn't a place here at all—of this world.

I closed my eyes—not to Ulquiorra but to the world, hoping to find that place that he was in if not to join him, to help him. Nothing, though—ridiculous, the notion itself was. What had given me this ludicrous suggestion? Nonetheless, my eyes remained closed.

We stepped forward—into the classroom. My uniform was slightly tight-fitting (it was Ulquiorra's, to be perfectly honest) so movement was stiff. No one noticed, though. Everyone was far too excited about the trip to see such small details—I hardly noticed it, myself.

The impossibility of it all was what got to me. It was all so coincidental but in a good way, I suppose.

By the time my eyes found themselves open again, the world seemed brighter than it had before and Ulquiorra was looking at me. I wasn't aware of how long or whether he was looking directly at me, but he was—his green eyes seemingly resting on my face. I didn't question his actions, but I looked back. Those eyes of his didn't see me, only reflecting who I was. It unnerved me, to say the least, but it was oddly...there was no word for this feeling.

A sideshow oddity... I remember briefly thinking this as I regarded him with my own blue eyes. His were in a hazy green like the sea. Mine were clear, I realized, like the sky and vivid like the sky.

The green sea and the blue sky—the two were connected by the rain. This was absolutely ridiculous—so many connections drawn accidentally. Of course, they were produced by the ridiculous musings of my mind so, really, they held no valid place over anything occurring then or ever—anything other than my thoughts.

He, Ulquiorra, turned away, then. His sea green eyes roamed over the mass of people clustered here in the humidity of the April rain for no particular reason. They just watched—like a hawk in the sky circling its prey. This, though, was without reason—like a dog chasing its own tail.

More musings.

"So," I drawled pointlessly. I doubt he heard me, though. It wasn't possible to over this noise. It was a wonder that Mr. Sumner hadn't scolded us quite yet. Perhaps, he was feeling kinder this particular day. It wasn't as though it mattered, anyway.

I frowned at the fact that I hadn't received an answer. It was an instinctual action, though. It wasn't as though I didn't know that I wouldn't receive one. This was all completely ridiculous—everything with him was completely ridiculous and it bothered me.

His green eyes that drew me in—he could make me do anything.

I didn't doubt that. Something about him told me that that was indeed true. But, that didn't bother me so much as the fact that I had acknowledged it.

I shuddered. He had changed me—ironically, I didn't hate it. I couldn't say that I particularly liked it, though.

In fact, he hadn't so much changed me as brought something out of me—something I had never shown or known of before. Was he really that different from all the others?

Yes, most likely.

I, subconsciously, slipped my hand into his. "Let's get going, alright?" I said with a sharp tug on his hand. He seemed to snap into consciousness again—back to Britain from where he had been.

A clean feeling of relief washed over me. I never knew such peace and serenity.

Perhaps, it would all be alright, now. Ha...what a lie that was. Nothing would ever be alright—to say that would be arrogant and patronizing, both were two things that I couldn't stand. Of course, who was I to speak?


So, it seemed that we wouldn't be in a room together. That would have been overly cliché, no? I mean...it's something you see in cheesy romance novels but it rarely, really, happens.

He was with Leroy. I couldn't think up a worse scenario. Alright, maybe I could but I wouldn't go there to even begin to contemplate such things. No, just no.

There was one silver lining to this cloud, though—Leroy wasn't a sleezebag and they would probably become friends. I liked the thought of Leroy and Ulquiorra being friends—Ulquiorra befriending one of my closest but certainly not oldest friends. It was nice. Speaking of Nice...I took note that we weren't going to southern France. It was mostly the more Northern countries—closer to where we were. Our first stop was Brighton, which was in Great Britain. There, we would board a ferry or ship of some sort across the English Channel and head to a port at Le Havre. That sounded alright.

Ulquiorra had, since then, left my side and was, now, discussing who would keep the room key with Leroy and other such related things. They seemed to be having a pleasant time so I didn't disturb them. Besides, I had to find out who I was with, right?

The answer to that didn't please me—that is, who I was with. I was sharing a room with some boy by the name of "John Taylor". I had never even heard of him so much as known who he was. The name, though, was common enough. Even he was common-looking. He had short-cut light brown hair not done in any special manner. There was nothing striking about his features, either. He had hazel eyes, if I remember correctly, a pale, freckled complexion, and seemed completely bland. He looked like someone who was bland and acted like someone who was bland. Could this get any more exciting?

I recall speaking with John. It was nothing much, really—just about what we would bring, how we would split the room, et cetera. At some point, I had left him to go and see (or rather, to bother) Leroy and Ulquiorra.

As I walked over to them, the two turned to me and waved. I grinned back, waving too.

"So," I started, "how're things going?"

Leroy just shrugged. Ulquiorra was the one who answered, "It's alright. Leroy managed to talk us into getting a room next to you and John's." To this, my grin grew just a little bit more. Leroy could talk anyone into anything—well, almost anything. We had long since considered this a malignant "talent" of his.

"That's great." I had to suppress my enthusiasm. You see, originally, we had been arranged so that Leroy and Ulquiorra's room (in Le Havre, anyway) was at one end of the hall and mine was at the direct opposite end—rooms 203 and 243, forty rooms between us. That wasn't great...no, it wasn't at all. Therefore, many thanks go to Leroy.

Leroy grinned at me, mouthing a clear, "It's so you can get lucky." I'm not joking when I say that I almost slapped him—almost. Ulquiorra just looked at me, unknowing, with a look of slight amusement at my irritation. It's not much of a lie to say that he was (and still is) a pretty sick bastard—in all senses of the word—but, hey, it didn't stop me and, I would like to think, it never will.

With that said—or rather, mouthed—I stepped forward to the both of them, looming over them dangerously. Ulquiorra still seemed to find this funny. Stupid Ulquiorra. That got to me, somehow.

"Is something the matter, Grimmjow?" Ulquiorra asked me. Leroy only nodded his head in agreement. This was annoying—very annoying. It was I-want-to-slap-him annoying, too. That didn't help. Still, it was all just jokes between friends. Leroy was snickering, too.

Why me?

I ignored them and just sat down on a desk, carefully balancing my weight between what was on the desk itself and what was not. That was when John—John Taylor—walked up to us. Well, he walked up to me, anyway. It was something about the change in rooms—the one Leroy had mentioned.

"Excuse me," he started, "Jeagerjaques?" I hated it when people called me by my last name. It reminded me that I was related to my forsaken family.

"What?" I growled in a sort of reply. He looked considerably frightened even as he backed away.

John cleared his throat, though, gathering up some nerve before speaking. "Well," he began shakily, "there has been a change in rooms. We are now in room 205." I think that I gave him only the faintest hint of a nod, then. I do, however, remember him quickly fleeing afterwards. I guess that Ulquiorra wasn't the only sick bastard.

Leroy chuckled, shaking his head. "Must you threaten everyone, Grimm?" he asked me, sighing whistfully. Ulquiorra shrugged, waving his left hand dismissively after lowering his shoulders.

"So it seems," he answered Leroy, a wily half-smile resting on his lips with a placid grace that, honestly, scared me more than just a little bit.

Leroy grinned widely, his eyes looking up at me before falling back to meet Ulquiorra's gaze again. "Indeed." His tone of voice was painfully cocky with a touch of sarcasm. Of course, that was how Leroy talked—just like that. Damn, though, it always sounded so completely and utterly patronizing and contemptuous!

"So, Ulquiorra," I set myself up for speech without much to say, really. I avoided even mentioning Leroy's name, though.

Ulquiorra looked up at me, tilting his head to the side ever-so-slightly in interest. He was still smirking. "Is something wrong, Grimmjow?" he asked me.

I shook my head, sighing again. This was, really, getting us nowhere. In the end, we just ended up sitting there doing nothing. Not to mention that the silence itself was awkward, too. This was cumbersome in and of itself. Oh joy...I hated awkward silences and I still do.

In a few minutes, the buzz of our school trip died down and everyone had resumed their seats. A miracle had happened, though—Mr. Sumner hadn't noticed that we had come in late.

Ulquiorra, Leroy, and I had already taken our seats, too.

As Mr. Sumner resumed his teaching, informing us on trip details first, though, I stole a backwards glance at Ulquiorra. Leroy saw me do that. Ulquiorra, however, did not see that.

"So," Leroy started, clearing his throat to get my attention, "did anything happen between you and Ulquiorra?" I looked back at him and shook my head. Truthfully, nothing really had happened. But, somehow, I felt like I was lying. Oh well, it wasn't like Leroy couldn't always tell even if I couldn't.

I could hear Mr. Sumner droning in the background. "For our trip, we will first go to Brighton. From there, we will take a train to a port and cross the English Channel, arriving at a port in Le Havre, France. Then, we will be going to Rouen, then to Pairs, then to Reims. Between Paris and Reims, we will stop at Luxembourg. Afterwards, we will enter Germany also by train, arriving in Frankfurt am Main. Then, we will head to Stuttgart and then to Augsburg..." After that, I stopped listening. It was making me fall asleep, that was how boring it was. Still, it was nice to know where we were going to stop. Of course, we were in the northern parts of France...I had never, actually, been to Luxembourg. I recalled stopping by Reims once or twice but never actually sight-seeing inside. So, this would be fun. Then, of course, we would be in Germany. I really needed to brush up on my German. Maybe, though, I could ask Ulquiorra for help. I didn't think that I needed to help him with French in return, though. He was good at that, as I could see in class.

"Your rooms at Le Havre are..." Mr. Sumner held a large, manila envelope in his hands and was beginning to tell everyone their assigned rooms. I already knew which room I was in—I was in the room next to Leroy and Ulquiorra's, room number 205.

At that point, I fell asleep in class. That was a no-no. Somehow, though, Mr. Sumner didn't catch me this time. That day was filled with anomalies.\


I woke up to the bell. That wasn't nearly as pleasant as one would think. I shuffled out of class quickly, though. It was to avoid Mr. Sumner...among other things or other people (namely, Leroy...it seemed that his vulgar joke had gotten to me).

Of course, I had no such luck. Leroy was the first person that saw me exiting the room.

"What's up, Grimm?" he asked innocently—as if he didn't know. I wasn't in the mood to deal with this.

I frowned at him, eyes pointed in a glare. He didn't seem to notice—not that he was dense, though. No, he just wasn't letting this get to him. For once, I sighed in defeat. It wasn't like me but, hey, I didn't want to fight this early in the morning.

"Nothing," I muttered sullenly. I swear that I heard him chuckle at that. That conniving little...damn it. I tried my best to ignore him and to stifle my anger.

He smirked even as he looked up at me. "You're so predictable, you know?" It was a rhetorical question. I didn't give him an answer. Well, not a straight-up answer, anyway. A groan of discomfort was enough for him to tell how I felt.

Leroy quickly changed the subject. He wasn't that much of a jerk...okay, maybe that was a lie but, whatever. "So, are you excited to be in France again?"

Quicker than I would have liked, my answer was, "No!" He laughed—out loud—at me.

"I see, I see." he managed to sputter out between his fits of laughter. "You know, I can't really see why you dislike your family so much, Grimm." He was one of the few people who knew that my family was...well, an assassin family. When I had first told him, though, it didn't bother him.

I glared at him. "You know why, Roy."

"I don't understand, though." Really, the day I would win an argument with him was the day that the world ended—it was virtually impossible. I'm not calling myself stupid. He's just...like that. It was something that I had to get used to—something that I was, at the time, used to.

I decided it was pointless just sitting here talking to him. He knew all the answers, anyway—all the answers that I may have wanted but they were also all the answers that I didn't need and didn't, more so than I did, want to find out. They were inner truths about me that he would realize sooner than even I could. Leroy wasn't particularly insightful, nor was he a genius...he was just himself. I suppose that's why we had stayed friends for so long—he knew me better than I knew myself.

"Roy," I said in a forlorn tone, closing my eyes as I leaned back against the wall, "Do you think I'm over-thinking these things?"

He shrugged, not giving a particularly useful answer as was his norm. It bothered me, this time.

Of course, after that, it was also his norm to say something intelligent yet cryptic. I braced myself. "You know," he started off simple enough, "it's up to you what you think. I mean, if you think that it's worth the thought, then, no, of course you're not. Of course, you might just be looking too in-depth about these things, you know? If you find it important, it's worth the thought." He had said that all in one breath and with a smile, at that. I smiled back.

"Do you really think so?" I asked, looking at him with, what he must have thought to be, lingering hope in my eyes.

"Only if you do, Grimm."

"I do."

And, that was how we would carry on five-minute conversations between classes. As was the norm here, wasn't it?


The rest of the day was rather uneventful. For some reason, nothing seemed to want to happen, in a sense. I like it, though. I wasn't one for peace and serenity but this was a chance to cool my hot blood and think things over properly and not in the spur of a moment. I didn't want to make a mistake that I would regret.

Of course, Ulquiorra was there. He was always there—be it watching or otherwise. He just had the presence that was stifling and always...there. It was like a ghost, I suppose. Well, it wasn't as if he didn't have the pale skin and the looks to support that theory. However, he was completely and utterly there. It was even more suffocating than having a ghost or a stalker. Of course, it was a peaceful existence—a serene being—so it didn't burn. Did that even make sense?

He is still a drowning presence. Though, he is no longer alive. I think I have realized that there is no difference from then and now—but he is colder now, that is without so much as a doubt.

His—Ulquiorra's—dubious aura is here right now. Why? Well, it's because he is here. I'm drowning in it. Damn it.

"Are you ready?" he asked me. We are heading to Brighton first thing tomorrow morning. I nodded. He smiled back. "Good," he continued, "do you think that it's going to be exciting?"

"Yes," I answered, nodding again.

Little did I know just how "exciting" it would be. The moment that we arrived in France, then to Germany, everything would become catastrophic and collapse.

It was like a deranged nightmare—a place where everything spiraled into oblivion and never came back. Or, perhaps, no one knew that it came back.

But, this deranged nightmare was mine and in reality.