CHAPTER 10

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...

Woot! Hitting another ten chapter mark! Sorry for the long wait!

Onwards...

XOXOXO

Ichigo pressed his back against one of the jagged rocks sticking up through the floor of the large training room, his breathing labored and heart moving faster than a speeding bullet. He'd known that Starrk would be an expert marksman, but what he'd experienced within the last ten minutes, had to be a record of some sort. After rolling out of the way of the first glob of neon green paint, Ichigo had had to duck-walk over to the nearest rock, just to dodge the volley of paint splatters flying towards him faster than an Uzi's report.

The rock had turned out to offer no reprieve because as soon as he'd made himself comfortable and moved to glance around in hopes that he could somehow see the tall brunet, Starrk had appeared right in front of him. The only way he'd known the man was even there was because he felt the slight pressure of the barrel of the man's paintball gun against his ribs. Squeaking in surprise, he'd managed to just miss being littered with paint splotches by again rolling out of the way and behind another rock.

Starrk had merely laughed and taunted him again. "You're not gonna get anywhere just runnin' away, Kid," he rumbled, voice reminding Ichigo of distant thunder.

He hadn't even been able to respond, his breath leaving him in deep, colossal gulps that made his chest heave and his throat burn like he'd just downed a shot of whiskey. The next few minutes had been a repeat performance of the initial scene: Ichigo dodging Starrk and Starrk finding him no matter where he tried to hide, even though the room was dark as pitch.

This wasn't going to work.

It was more than obvious that Starrk was toying with him and the thought not only annoyed Ichigo, but it pissed him off. He wasn't about to tolerate someone making a fool of him, marksman or not. His anger surged through him and he could actually pinpoint the precise moment everything seemed to sharpen and focus. His breathing became even, his heart rate slowed, his vision seemed to adjust to the darkness and the heightened sense of smell and hearing was back.

Ichigo was beginning to understand that his superior senses were mainly due to his emotions; for instance, when he had been feeling afraid or angry, they had kicked in. It was a nifty little trick and he would be the first to say that even though it creeped him out, it still made for an excellent advantage.

Just then, Ichigo smelled the faint, yet unmistakable scent of gunpowder and knew that Starrk was closing in on him. Since it appeared that the brunet had the same disappearing ability as Yoruichi, Ichigo would have to modify his strategy, which at the moment only consisted of barely made escapes. Ichigo closed his eyes and listened to his surroundings. After a second that seemed more like a minute, he heard Starrk's paint-balling attire shifting as he moved too rapidly for the naked eye to see. That, accompanied with the soft scent of gunpowder, was enough for him to accurately distinguish the exact spot Starrk would appear. Using the knowledge to his prevalence, Ichigo quickly mapped out a plan.

He had about twenty seconds before Starrk would appear before him, so taking an outrageously extreme gamble, he hurried out of his jumper and propped it against the rock he'd been leaning against, disappearing behind it right after, clutching his gun to his side. Ichigo felt like a cat, his eyes picking up everything in the dark, including the spectators located on the bleachers, who were watching the game of paintball tag through night vision goggles.

Where the hell they had gotten the high tech equipment from, was beyond Ichigo at the moment.

Starrk sifted into place and just as Ichigo expected, pointed his gun at the dark jumper. Ichigo didn't waste a breath hesitating; instead, he eased his gun from behind the rock and pumped off a series of paint splatters. An alarm went off, shrieking through the cavernous room and nearly making his ears bleed in the process. Red police car-like lights sprang to life from the tops of all the jagged rocks, making him squint as he covered his ears to block the offending noise that sounded like a high-pitched voice wailing incessantly.

The regular fluorescent lights were activated and the alarm and red lights immediately ceased moving and shrieking, for which Ichigo was eternally grateful. In his condition, the blaring alarm and rapidly revolving lights were enough to give him a migraine. Ichigo didn't move from behind the rock, but Urahara's voice managed to lure him from his hiding spot with three statements. "My, my...what an interesting turn of events. I must admit, I hadn't seen this coming."

Ichigo first peered cautiously around the rock and what he saw made him grin triumphantly. His decidedly reckless plan had been successful. Starrk stood staring down at Ichigo's discarded jumper, his normally impassive face slack with shock. His gun hung loosely at his side and his free hand was on the back of his head. His stance and demeanor absolutely screamed confusion. Ichigo's grin morphed into an all-out, toothy smirk as he stepped from his hiding place.

Starrk glanced up at him and narrowed his eyes in an almost menacing way. "Why didn't I hear you?" he asked.

Ichigo shrugged his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "I don't know about that, but you're not the only one that can move fast when the need moves them."

"Huhn," Starrk grunted as he handed Urahara his paintball gun.

Ichigo hadn't noticed during his moment of triumph that the dark-haired girl with the dark-blue eyes and strange bang, had reappeared with her cart. Once he did, though, he tossed his gun onto it and stretched his arms above his head, his heightened state slowly dissipating. He wished he could manipulate the extra sensory boost at will, but for now, he was merely getting used to it.

"Well, Kurosaki-kun, I think it's time we take things up a notch, yes?" Urahara interjected as Starrk opened his mouth to say something else.

Ichigo wanted to sigh and even stomp in frustration. He was fucking tired and all these tests that Urahara was putting him through were getting on his nerves. "Tch. I'm thirsty. Why can't I take a break?" he grumbled petulantly.

Urahara studied him for a moment, his dark eyes mysterious as usual before he nodded and whipped out that annoying paper fan of his. He waved it past his face a few times, then turned to the girl that was in charge of the cart. "Ururu-chan, can you bring something for Kurosaki-kun to drink?"

Ururu nodded and meandered off with her cart, her small body moving with a strange, cat-like grace that raised Ichigo's suspicions. The aura surrounding her appeared sad and innocent, but there was an underlying something that made him curious.

In the meantime, the bleachers' occupants had removed their goggles and were in the process of burning holes into Ichigo's head. Nnoitra and Shirosaki wore twin grins that sent ice chips careening down his spine and made him shudder uncomfortably. He avoided their gazes, but was met with strangely intense looks from the man Ichigo had dubbed "the Villain" and from the short, green-eyed man, whose eyes seemed like something out of a sci-fi flick.

He didn't know what to make of why they were staring at him like that, so he moved on, his gaze traveling to the blond, who would forever be known as "Shin-chan" in Ichigo's eyes. Shin-chan merely gave him a bland look, proving that he really didn't give a fuck what was going on. Ichigo wanted to smile and thank the man, but thought better of it when his eyes inevitably landed on piercing blue.

Grimmjow's eyes were taking him apart and the look on the blue-haired man's face was frightening, to say the least. His perfect lips were curled back in a hostile snarl and his luminescent eyes glittered ominously. Everything about Grimmjow, at the moment, read murder-death-kill and Ichigo was more than happy to break their visual contact, another shudder ripping down his back.

He didn't even bother looking at the rest of the bleachers' occupants, by now put off by what he'd already seen. The sound of the huge, metal door they'd entered through hissing shut, drew his attention. The girl, Ururu, had returned, carrying a bottle of spring water and what looked like a damp towel. Ichigo could feel his mouth watering and his body twitching in anticipation of the relief both items would provide.

Urahara stood silently beside him, watching him and inherently unnerving him. Ichigo didn't like the way the older blond man seemed to dissect him with his careful observing. It reminded him too much of the way Dr. Grantz had eyed him on several occasions, not to mention, brought up the distressing period he'd experienced in the man's lab on top of his operating table. Ichigo swallowed forcefully and accepted the bottle of water from Ururu, grateful to have it and eager to down it.

He quickly discarded the cap and drank half the bottle in one go, his eyes sliding shut happily as the cold liquid coated his esophagus and lined his stomach. He'd almost completely forgotten about his surroundings until Urahara interrupted his thoughts.

"Kurosaki-kun, I'll be giving you a break for the rest of the evening. I understand that your body isn't accustomed to the changes you've apparently undergone, so rest for now and we'll resume the testing tomorrow morning. How is that?"

Ichigo narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He'd learned not to take everything Urahara said at face value. "What's the catch?"

Urahara grinned. "There's no catch. I'd just like to have you at your full potential for tomorrow's testing. Your opponent will be much more difficult to deal with, I can assure you."

"Wait! You already know who I'm going to be, er...testing against?" Ichigo asked, curiosity piqued.

Urahara gave him another one of his infamous, mysterious smiles from behind his paper fan. "Of course I do." Ichigo arched a brow and waited for the man to realize that that simple statement wasn't enough to slake his inquisitiveness. Urahara maintained his grin as he said, "You'll be facing me tomorrow, Kurosaki-kun, so rest up."

With that, the blond swept out of the training room, Uryuu and Ururu following close on his heels. The room's door was left open so the rest of the occupants could exit as well, Ichigo assumed, but his head was still reeling pretty harshly.

How the hell could Urahara drop a bomb on him like that and then just walk away as if he'd only commented on the weather?

Because he's nuts, that's how, Ichigo thought sullenly.

Now what? Did he prepare? But how could he prepare for something he had no idea of? And that was certainly the case in this instance. There was no way he knew what Urahara had in mind for him.

Ichigo glanced over at the bleachers one last time and winced when he saw Grimmjow striding in his direction rather swiftly, large hands fisted at his sides.

This didn't bode well at all.

XOXOXO

"I am not pleased with this development at all, Grantz-san."

"I apologize, Aizen-sama. To say it wasn't my fault would be remiss, as well as an insult. I can only say that I will take steps to prevent such an instance from reoccurring."

The tall, intimidating brunet, seated behind a large mahogany desk, leaned his elbow on the edge of it and nonchalantly rested his chin in his palm. A lock of hair wound its way down the middle of his face, but did nothing to take away from his impeccable appearance, consisting of a stark white suit, black dress shirt and black tie. His brown eyes were cold and calculating as they regarded Szayel Aporro Grantz, with an undercurrent of maliciousness that made the pink-haired doctor swallow uneasily as he fought the acute urge to fidget.

And he was NOT a fidgeting man.

"You will find the key and bring him here. I will not accept failure this time. Is that understood?" Aizen asked, his voice deadly calm, but the glittering in his eyes relaying his upset.

Szayel bowed deeply and once he straightened his back, nodded. "Yes, Aizen-sama."

Aizen waved a hand in dismissal and Szayel had to force himself not to flee the spacious office. He did, however, quickly leave the room, quietly shutting the door behind himself. He immediately retrieved his cell from the pocket of the dark-blue pea coat he wore and dialed his partner as he made his way to the elevator. The phone rang three times before a lilting tenor answered.

"Mayuri speaking."

"Have you started Operation Recovery?" he snapped, taking his anger out on the first person he could.

Szayel boarded the empty elevator as soon as it dinged onto the twentieth floor, then stabbed the button that would take him to the parking garage. "Of course. I've reprogrammed Tousen and added Ichimaru-kun to the team. Why are you so snippy?" Mayuri asked innocently, as if he had no idea why Szayel was pissed.

"Don't ask stupid questions! Send them to the target's home; I'm sure he'll end up there soon enough. And Mayuri?"

"Yes?"

"Don't fuck this up! Make sure the team knows not to kill the target, no matter the circumstances. Our failure will mean dire consequences."

Mayuri huffed and ended the connection, making Szayel curse as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open, revealing the eerily quiet parking garage. He briskly strode to his car, unlocking it with the keypad alarm.

He hoped he'd relayed the urgency of their situation to his carefree partner. Mayuri was a genius, but he was too lax when it came to authority, the authority being Aizen.

Szayel sighed as he bonelessly slid into his silver, 2010 Lincoln MKZ and started it up. He had the beginnings of a headache and he hoped beyond hope that Mayuri would come through with this new program of his. If they didn't retrieve Ichigo Kurosaki, they would both be discarded, as simply as if throwing away a used napkin.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow balled up his fists and made his way over to Ichigo. He was still peeved that he couldn't understand what the hell was going through the kid's mind, but now he was incensed at seeing him deal with two obviously strong people as if they were nothing. It ticked him the hell off and he was going to get to the bottom of this little issue right fucking now.

Ichigo watched him warily, copper-colored eyes following his every move. The earnest way Ichigo tracked his advance made him inwardly smile. At least the guy still had the decency to have some type of caution when it came to him. Grimmjow wouldn't tolerate complete disregard when not even a few days ago, Ichigo had been scared to death of him.

Grimmjow's long-legged stride ate up the distance between Ichigo and himself and by the time he reached the shorter man, he felt like he was on the verge of foaming at the mouth, he was so angry. Ichigo raised his head and locked eyes with him, his pointed chin tilting defiantly. Grimmjow sneered and stared back. He didn't like the high-handed way Ichigo was regarding him and all because Director Psychopath and Mayuri had ruined him.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Ichigo asked, his voice shaking slightly.

Grimmjow grinned wolfishly. "Look who grew a pair overnight," he said softly. Ichigo arched a fine orange brow at him, but remained silent, so he continued. "Why can' I hear you anymore?" he asked, bringing up what he felt was the more pressing issue.

Ichigo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his bronze eyes shut. "I don't fucking know!" he snapped, his eyes still shut.

"Don'-" he started, but Ichigo held up a hand and cut him off.

"Grimmjow, I really, really, really don't know why you can't hear my thoughts anymore. Frankly, I don't care. It's actually a helluva relief to know that you aren't in there poking around where you don't belong."

Grimmjow was speechless, too livid to think straight. Who the fuck did Ichigo think he was talking to like that? He clenched his teeth together and glared at the shorter man, debating whether he should fuck him until he screamed before he decided to detach his beautiful head from his shoulders. He had just settled on a decision when Ichigo tilted his head to the side and rubbed the tip of his straight nose, eyes holding a glinting curiosity.

"Why does it bother you so much? Are you that dependent on your ability?"

The question surprised Grimmjow. He had been expecting a slick comment about his behavior, maybe even Ichigo making the mistake of calling him the c-word, but instead, he'd asked a simple question, completely throwing him off. He didn't know what to make of the orange-haired man anymore. Grimmjow had already been confused about his reactions when it came to the younger man, but now the feeling was even more intense.

Was he totally dependent on his ability? Shinji had once commented that Grimmjow used his ability as a crutch and although, at the time, he hadn't given a shit, now, faced with the statement again, he wasn't so sure what to think. He did rely heavily on his telepathy and telekinesis. Did that mean that that was all he was?

So many questions.

They made him think and he really hated thinking and dwelling on a topic. He was far more suited for finding a solution and being rid of the issue in an expeditious manner, not sitting and pondering its depths. Grimmjow wrinkled his nose in agitation and gave Ichigo a short look. "I don' know how ta answer that," he grunted, angry at his inability to do so.

He felt weak and that was a word that he'd never associated with himself before.

He didn't intend to start either.

Ichigo studied him a few seconds more before casually shrugging and making his way to the door of the training room. Grimmjow, unsure of how to proceed, but knowing that he still wanted to talk to the man, followed behind him, his head still reeling uncomfortably. He was still pretty peeved about not being able to hear what Ichigo was thinking, as well as his inability to keep him under his telekinesis, but maybe he could revise his strategy of getting things back to where they were when Ichigo was afraid of him.

He loved the way the orange-haired man looked when he was shitting bricks. It made Grimmjow feel strong and intimidating, like nothing could stop him or stand in the way of what he wanted. Maybe that was why he was so disoriented and angry about his plight with Ichigo. He had never been confronted with the possibility of a person being able to withstand his telekinesis and being more or less impervious to his telepathy.

Not to mention, he felt rather slighted.

He'd liked listening to Ichigo's thoughts. The man's mind had been like an open book; everything that passed through had been broadcast like a flight announcement. Grimmjow had immensely enjoyed hearing how attracted Ichigo was to him; now, he was lucky to put together anything that he heard.

Gritting his teeth, he continued to follow Ichigo out of the room, wondering if the younger man had any idea where he was going. Just then, Ichigo glanced over his shoulder and frowned at him. "Why are you following me?"

Grimmjow had had it up to here with the reckless way Ichigo was addressing him. Just because the little shit could hold his own in a scuffle now and just because Grimmjow couldn't hear all the shit that he was thinking, the bastard thought he was hot stuff. "I c'n do what I want."

Ichigo shocked him with an amused grin. "You're right. So, what? You gonna follow me all night?" he tossed over his shoulder before turning to face forward again.

Grimmjow scowled, but inwardly he was wondering the same thing. There was something that drew him to Ichigo like a bug to fluorescent lighting, but he'd be damned if he admitted that shit aloud. "I might," he replied with a saucy smirk.

...don't mind...be nice...fuck...for real...

Grimmjow's scowl deepened as he tried to make sense of what he'd just heard. If he took the words at face value, then it seemed like Ichigo didn't mind him following behind him and maybe even doing a lot more than just following him. Never having been one for holding his tongue, he pursed his lips briefly before asking, "Fuck what fer real? And what dontcha mind?"

Ichigo's eyes widened as he spun around and stared at him in disbelief. Grimmjow grinned. Had he stumbled upon something interesting? Full lips parted, immediately drawing Grimmjow's attention, but no words passed them. Ichigo opened and closed his mouth for a few seconds, until Grimmjow snapped his fingers in his face.

Blinking owlishly, Ichigo visibly swallowed and licked those enticing lips, making Grimmjow grit his teeth. He wanted to do very naughty things to Ichigo, but since he was changing his game plan, he would have to go about carrying them out differently, in a more round about way, which was something he was totally unprepared for.

"What did you just say?"

"Tch! Ya heard what I said, stop stallin'!"

Ichigo narrowed his eyes, but was unable to successfully rid his face of its previous shocked expression. "That's none of your business," the orange-haired man muttered and turned on his heel, heading down the hall to only kami knew where.

"Where the fuck ya goin'?" Grimmjow asked, disgruntled.

"To sleep! I'm tired!" Ichigo snapped without looking over his shoulder.

Grimmjow growled under his breath, terribly tempted to wrap his hands around Ichigo's throat again and squeeze until his lungs collapsed. Instead, he quietly trailed behind the other man, inwardly fuming. Ichigo wound through a large hall, bypassing the room they'd all been gathered in about an hour or so ago. They passed a few other rooms and from the quick glances Grimmjow afforded the insides of these rooms, he realized that everyone had been paired off and sent to share rooms.

He'd noticed the violet-haired woman, Yoruichi, and the ice-bitch, Halibel, sitting in one room, while Shiro and the tall fucker, Nnoitra, had been in another. That had been weird. Grimmjow figured he'd be sharing a room with Shinji or Corky since Shiro was already paired up, but as they strolled past another room, that thought was flushed down the drain. He stopped in the doorway, confused at what he was seeing. Shinji was draped across a twin-sized bed in a moderately-sized room, with beige walls and beige carpeting on the floor, but he wasn't alone. The tall, gray-eyed brunet was poured over another twin-sized bed on the other side of the room, his arms up and covering his face.

"What the hell is goin' on?" he snapped, making Shinji's head snap in his direction.

His blond friend shook his head slowly and waved a hand dismissively. "That Urahara guy is makin' us share rooms with people we don' know. We're supposed ta get ta know each other," he said, tone carefree.

Grimmjow opened his mouth to protest, when he realized Ichigo had continued his trek without him. Slamming his mouth shut, he ignored Shinji's comment and hurriedly caught up with the orange-haired man. The small girl with the odd bang was standing in front of an empty room that contained two twin-sized beds, much like the room in which he'd seen Shinji sitting. The girl moved from in front of the door and just as she disappeared from sight, Urahara appeared, wide, infernal grin firmly in place while he utilized that ancient-looking paper fan.

Grimmjow thought the damned thing was all kinds of unnecessary.

"Ah, Kurosaki-kun, Jaegerjaques-san. This is your room. I figured you wouldn't mind sharing a room with Jaegerjaques-san, considering you seem to be the only one absolutely immune to his ability, Kurosaki-kun."

Grimmjow glanced at Ichigo and noticed that his back was stiff as a board and his hands were clenched tightly at his sides. "Are you fucking serious?" was ground through Ichigo's teeth with a forced effort.

Urahara smiled cordially, dark, mysterious eyes crinkling in the corners. "Of course. Have a good evening, Kurosaki-kun," he said and floated away down the hall.

Grimmjow smirked smugly, knowing that it meant he would be spending the night with Ichigo, if nothing else. He would get down to the bottom of what was going on, for sure.

Ichigo slowly turned to face him, syrupy brown eyes on fire with determination and sternness. "You will stay on your side of the room!" he snapped.

Grimmjow tipped his head back and barked a laugh. "If ya say so, Berry," he mumbled.

Ichigo hesitated for a brief second before marching into the room they would be sharing for kami knew what reason, his movements mechanical. Grimmjow snorted, but inwardly thanked his lucky stars for the strange turn of events as he traipsed into the pale purple room behind Ichigo.

...the fuck...don't believe...asshole...

Grimmjow chuckled as he flopped onto the twin-sized bed against the east wall of the room. He kicked his sneakers off and put his feet up, propping his head on his arms as he glanced over at Ichigo. Ichigo did the same, but in the process gave Grimmjow a most withering glare that made him laugh out loud again.

This was going to be fun as hell.

Thanks for reading!

Til next time!

Racey~