CHAPTER 11
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...
Onwards...
XOXOXO
Jinta paced his bedroom, every now and then casting a glance first at his closed and locked door, and then to his desk. It was about six o'clock in the evening, the apartment too quiet, his dad still downstairs in the store. He ran the back of his hand across his mouth as he stilled and eyed the object lying on his desk. It was dark, heavy and formidable. Truthfully, it scared him. His hands shook as he took a few steps towards the desk. His heart was pounding, fast and hard like the bass of a techno song. He was starting to think that maybe...just maybe he'd made the wrong decision when he'd bought the damned thing.
He sat down hard on the side of his bed, elbows on his knees and face in his hands. Was he going about this the wrong way? Ururu's words kept ringing in his mind ever since she'd said them. He felt bad for snapping at her, but what the hell had she expected from him? He'd just lost Di Roy: his best friend and the love of his life. There was no bringing him back. And why? All because some gangster held a grudge against Di's blue-haired idol? How was that even fair?
It isn't fair, he inwardly snarled. It isn't fucking fair.
He was so damned angry. It filled him up from within until he felt like he would explode at the slightest provocation. He didn't have many friends, but everyone, especially Ururu and Jinta's father had noticed a distinct change in his behavior. He had always been a loner (with the exception of Di Roy), but he'd been friendly and meticulous about his studies. Now, he was withdrawn. Angry. Sullen and brooding. He wanted nothing to do with anything anymore.
Except Di Roy's killer.
He glanced at the gun again and heaved a deep sigh. He wanted revenge so badly, he could almost taste it. He wanted to see the man who'd ruthlessly taken Di Roy's life, writhing on the ground in bloody misery. He wanted the man to feel pain so acute, it would take his breath away.
Tears stung Jinta's eyes as he stared at the weapon on his desk. His heart started racing again as his thoughts were filled with blood-lust and rage. If he went through with his plans, his father would more than likely disown him. Ururu would never speak to him again. Jinta hung his head and rubbed his eyes. He just wanted Di Roy back.
"Jinta...what is that?"
Jinta's heart stalled in his chest, blood freezing in his veins. He was afraid to turn and face the voice only a few feet away. But he had to. His father didn't even sound like himself. In fact, the chipper blond sounded like he'd seen a ghost.
"Dad...i-it's not what you think."
"How can you possibly say that? Jinta...there is a gun on your desk! Why-how-where did you get that thing from?"
Jinta opened his mouth to respond, but his father stormed over to him and grabbed his arm, lifting him clear off the bed.
"Have you lost your mind?" the older man hissed.
His eyes were bright with anger, lips twitching as though he wanted to say more, but couldn't keep himself calm enough to do so. Jinta winced when his father's grip tightened on his arm.
"D-Dad, you're hurting me!"
"Hurting you? Jinta, I'm so mad, I could strangle you right now! What were you planning to do with this?" Jinta was too stunned to reply. All he could manage was a dumb look, his mouth hanging open. "You answer me!"
"I don't know! I-I just...I don't know."
And just like that, his father wilted. His shoulders drooped, and the grip on Jinta's arm loosened. Steel-gray eyes darted to the floor before shooting towards the tall dresser on the opposite side of the room. Without saying a word, the older man marched over to the dresser, snatched open one of the drawers and dug through its contents. After a slight pause, he pulled free a dark-blue towel and turned back to Jinta.
"Bring it to me."
He'd never heard his father's voice sound so raw. So pained and desperate.
Jinta did as the man asked, holding the gun by the nose. Once it was out of his hand, he rubbed his palm and fingers as if the cold steel had singed them. He watched with wide eyes as his father wrapped the gun in the towel after wiping it down and taking it apart. How did his dad know how to do that?
"Don't ask. I'd hoped it would never come to this, Jinta. I thought you were smarter."
Really, what could he say? His father was absolutely right in more ways than one. Jinta had just allowed his anger and grief to almost make a decision that would cost him his freedom and probably his life. He sighed, afraid to meet his father's eyes.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled.
He thought about Di Roy and how he would never see him again. The pain was crippling, but it was something he was going to have to learn to deal with. Life was unfair that way. A warm, strong arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him to a firm chest.
"I understand how you feel. More than you know, son. But you can't let your feelings make you irrational. What would I have done if you'd gotten yourself into something that couldn't be fixed? What if you'd died? Then, you would have left me in the same situation you're in right now. That may sound selfish, but I'm entitled. I'm your father, and you're my only child. I do not want to lose you to something so foolish."
Jinta wanted to protest, wanted to tell his father that Di Roy deserved the closure, but he couldn't. Pain made tears sting his eyes as he hid his face against his father's chest. He just wanted Di Roy back. He wanted to laugh and see the boy's braces and dimpled smile again.
It just wasn't fair.
His father rubbed his back and said, "It'll be alright, son. I'm here."
XOXOXO
Gin watched his boss lower himself into a metal folding chair and cross his legs, ankle over knee. The older man took his time with snipping the end of a fresh Cuban cigar and carefully lighting it. A couple of puffs later, The Man leaned forward in his chair and tilted his head to the side, his storm-colored eyes calculating as he considered the small, dark-haired man before him.
"I am running out of patience, Ulquiorra. Since you refuse to tell me what I want to hear, I'm going to send you back to your boss with a message. One that he can't ignore. He has been toeing the line between belligerence and outright disrespect. It's time he remembers his place. Not to mention, too many of my friends have expired at his hands. He owes me blood."
Gin's gaze went to Ulquiorra, who was tied to a metal folding chair and refusing to speak. Gin didn't think the petite man quite understood what kind of danger he was facing. ...Or maybe he did and just didn't give a fuck. Either way was sure to bring him to an early demise.
The Man held his cigar out to his right side, and one of his personal bodyguards took it from him before disappearing into the shadows once more. Gin shifted uneasily and looked over at his sister. Genevieve's face was calm, and so was her demeanor, but Gin had known the woman all of his life. He knew the signs of her being uncomfortable or nervous, and one of them was the tiny bead of sweat coasting along her profile. He understood. The Man was unpredictable, and there was no telling whether the meeting with Ulquiorra would turn sour or not. Right now, things were still OK. Even though the message The Man intended to have Ulquiorra take back to his boss was nothing to sneeze at, it still wasn't as extreme as The Man could be.
"Because your boss is such a cold-hearted snake, killing you would be pointless, as would be holding you hostage. However, I do know that he is prideful. Too prideful, in fact," The Man calmly explained as he snapped on a pair of latex gloves. The look in his eyes gave Gin the willies...and that was really saying something. The Man made a dramatic pause before continuing to speak. "With that being said, I believe a little incentive is required. So...I've come up with this idea: for each time that he does not bring himself before me at my request, I will take something from him. Or someone. I suppose it will depend on my mood that day. But today, I'm feeling particularly bitter. I think of my dead friends, and I get extremely upset, Ulquiorra, you just have no idea."
Gin swallowed harshly as he watched The Man slowly climb to his feet and move towards their dark-haired captive. After listening to The Man's speech, Gin was certain the next scene was sure to be gruesome. He exchanged wary glances with Genevieve before turning back to his boss. The Man's wrist twisted in a quick motion, and a long switchblade appeared in his hand.
"I dislike being unable to prevent the deaths of my friends, Ulquiorra. I dislike being taken as a game, as well. But most of all, I dislike – no – I despise being disrespected. Sosuke has no idea who he is fucking around with." The Man's voice was like shaved ice, but his eyes were on fire. Gin could practically feel the heat from where he was standing, almost ten feet away. "Hold his face," The Man said.
As if on cue, one of his personal bodyguards drifted forward and forcefully gripped Ulquiorra's chin. If Ulquiorra had been the lackey of anyone other than Sosuke Aizen, Gin would have felt maybe a tiny ounce of remorse for the man. But he wasn't, so sympathy didn't belong here. Ulquiorra's eyes went wide, but he still didn't say anything or make a sound, even as the huge bodyguard held his chin steady and pried his mouth open.
Gin had never considered himself a squeamish man, but it didn't keep him from flinching when The Man took hold of Ulquiorra's tongue and sliced through it with his switchblade. Javier held the severed tongue in his palm and studied it as if he were preparing to make a report. After a moment or two, he turned to one of his bodyguards and held it in the air. Through the entire ordeal, Ulquiorra hadn't uttered a peep, but his face was abnormally pale, his eyes squeezed shut, and sweat running profusely down the sides of his temples and cheeks. His whole body was shaking uncontrollably, and blood freely flowed over his lips and under his chin, where it dripped onto his suit.
Gin thinned his lips and glanced at his sister, certain that she would show emotion of some sort. When he met her frightened eyes, he nodded. This was no laughing matter. He'd witnessed The Man committing despicable acts on many previous occasions, but never one so personal and gory.
"Cauterize his wound, and send him on his way. I'm sure we'll hear from Sosuke in the next few days," Javier ordered.
He sounded like he was giving a weather update.
The bodyguards sprang into action, but Gin stuffed his hands into his pockets and whirled on his heel, anxious to leave the darkened room. If he didn't have to see it, then, he didn't want to. He wasn't the only who felt that way. Genevieve was right on his heels as he exited the room. She slammed the door shut on Ulquiorra's one scream of agony before she ran her hands over her face and took a deep breath.
"I don' scare easily, but Javier terrifies me," she mumbled through long fingers.
Gin didn't see the need to respond. His sister knew by the look on his face that he wholeheartedly agreed with her. He shuddered and pulled his pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
Fuck, he needed a smoke.
XOXOXO
He could hear his cell phone ringing in his captor's pocket. He peered at the brown-skinned man from the corner of his eye, only to find dark eyes narrowed on him as well. They were at another red light, and Ichigo was sorely tempted to unlock the door and hop out. But then again, the guy had a gun. That was the only reason Ichigo didn't attempt to escape. The last thing he wanted was to get shot again. He huffed and turned back to the window, his stomach in an absolute uproar. He wished Grimmjow was alive, wished the man could come and help him out of the scrape he'd gotten himself into.
The car screeched away from the light and wheeled around the nearest corner. Ichigo didn't understand why he was being allowed to see where they were going...unless this guy planned to kill him once they arrived. A strong shudder swept his frame and sent his heart into his mouth. What the hell could he do? How was he going to stay alive? Tears pressed at the back of his eyes as he tried not to lose control of his breathing. In through the nose; out through the mouth.
Calm down. There's gotta be a reason for all of this.
He was very near panicking. His thoughts were all over the place, distracting him from what was happening in the here and now, but he couldn't help it. One minute, he was missing his dead boyfriend, and the next, he was trying to figure out how the hell he could contact one of his loved ones – or even a friend. Someone! He stared out of the window. Maybe if he memorized where he was, he could somehow get away and...
His head flopped back against the seat cushion, and his eyes squeezed shut. Get away how? And who was to say that this man wouldn't shoot him right there in the car once they reached their destination? Ichigo had no idea what to expect, and it was slowly driving him mad. He felt like he was on a roller coaster, the car at the very top of a steep hill. With that came the expectation of going down...and fast. But he was confused as well. He didn't understand what this man wanted from him. Hell, he'd already taken Grimmjow away from him. What more could he possibly want?
The car entered a rough neighborhood that even Ichigo was unfamiliar with. No wonder the man hadn't bothered to blindfold him. There was no need. Even if Ichigo managed to escape, he wouldn't know where the hell he was, especially not without his cell phone. He sighed, once again panic and anxiety trying to make him breathless. He figured he was doing a good job of keeping his composure...until the car finally came to a stop at a rundown apartment building. There was a plethora of guys littering the streets, all of them wearing variations of red, black and white, and all of them wearing equally frightening scowls. Ichigo's eyes went wide, and his heart started a furious attempt to escape his chest. He wasn't ready for this! He didn't want to die! He'd done nothing wrong!
His captor hopped out of the vehicle, gun still in hand. He said something to a couple of guys who were standing outside of the entrance to the building before he came over to the passenger side and snatched open the door. Fear overcame Ichigo.
"What're you gonna do to me?" he asked as he shrank away from the man standing over him.
The dark-haired man grinned like it was his favorite holiday. "Now, why would I spoil the surprise?" He reached into the car, grabbed Ichigo by the forearm and hauled him upright. "Let's go, Princess. Don't know what you scared for; you take dick up your ass, right? This'll be a breeze, trust me."
Ichigo was terrified. He wanted to sob, wanted to call for help. It was the second worst feeling in the world, being this helpless. The man ushered him to the building, past the cronies standing around the open doorway.
"Make sure no one comes to the apartment."
All of them nodded as Ichigo watched in horror. Did none of them have a shred of decency? Didn't they see how fucking scared he was? No, they all just looked on with sinister smirks. Ichigo was led inside to an elevator, where the brown-skinned man stabbed the call button with the nose of his gun. While they waited, the man stared at Ichigo like he was the lowest life form on the face of the planet. Like Ichigo had killed his first born child. It was so unnerving.
The elevator arrived, and the man nudged Ichigo inside. It was small and smelled like metal, piss and cigarettes. The man pressed the button for the fifth floor, and just as the doors slid shut, Ichigo's phone started ringing in the man's pocket again. The man grinned and gave Ichigo a calm, condescending look.
"I wonder who that could be."
"Why are you doing this?" Ichigo couldn't help but to ask. "Grimmjow's...he's already dead. You killed him!"
The words left a bitter taste in Ichigo's mouth as he glared at his captor. He was so angry, but there was nothing he could do except try to find out why this man was holding him hostage.
"And I enjoyed every moment of it, too. He was nothin' but a big, blue thorn in my side."
Tears of rage stung the backs of Ichigo's eyes. How could this man be so cold and cruel? How could he rub something of that caliber into Ichigo's face? Ichigo could honestly say that he'd never felt the urge to kill someone until now. This man made him want to kill him slowly, torturing him until it hurt just to think.
Before Ichigo could say anything else, the elevator came to a stop and the man shoved him out into the hallway. The rough push made Ichigo stumble into the opposite wall, unable to control his balance due to the handcuffs. He was led to the far end of the hall, where the man produced a set of keys and opened a sturdy-looking, metal door. The guy closed the door and locked it before guiding Ichigo over to a corner of what appeared to be a spacious living room. He pushed him down onto a filthy, white blanket and lowered himself into a squat in front of Ichigo, the deadly gun inches from Ichigo's face.
"So, this is gonna be your new home until I get ready ta let you go. My name is Kaname Tousen. You might wanna remember that, so when you die, you'll know who sent you to Hell."
Ichigo was so pissed, he gathered as much spit in his mouth as he could and sent it hurling at Tousen's face. Unfortunately, the man was too fast, so he dodged it. His retaliation was even faster, though. He reared back and punched Ichigo, splitting his bottom lip on contact. Ichigo didn't make a sound, didn't even react, even though his head was swimming and his lip was stinging.
"I suggest you play nice, you little punk," Tousen growled as he pressed the gun to Ichigo's forehead. "I have the gun. Not you. You better act like it."
After a few moments of glaring, Tousen climbed to his feet and went across the room to a small dining table. He grabbed what looked like a small makeup bag and a short length of rope before making his way back to Ichigo. Ichigo hugged his knees to his chest, trying to keep as far away from the evil asshole as he could, but it was futile. Tousen lowered himself to eye level again, this time, tying the rope around Ichigo's ankles to keep his legs from moving. Once he was satisfied with the immovable knot, he clutched the bag and opened it, the rasping of the zipper almost deafening in the room. Ichigo watched in stunned horror as Tousen took his time laying out a syringe, a lighter, a spoon, a bottle of water, a rubber tourniquet, and a tiny baggy of beige-colored powder.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" he shrieked. But he knew. He'd seen it a couple of times, but never got too close to the stuff. The effects of that drug were devastating. "Please! Please! I-I'll do whatever you want! Just don't give me that stuff!" he yelled, voice cracking as he finally broke down. "I swear I won't say anything!" he sobbed.
Tousen smirked, but never once looked up from his task of preparing the heroin. "Ya know, I heard that G's parents before he went to a foster family were junkies. So, I asked myself, wouldn't it be nice to make his little princess one before he died too?"
Ichigo felt like he'd never cried so hard in his life. He kicked his feet, trying to waste the drug as Tousen cooked it up, but all he received for his efforts was a harsh blow to the head with the butt of Tousen's gun. It wasn't hard enough to knock him out cold, but it did stun him enough to keep him still. He felt Tousen straighten his right arm a little before tying on the tourniquet; he felt the man palpating for his vein; he felt the sharp bite of the needle as it sank beneath his skin; and finally, he felt a rush of euphoria that went straight to his head. Before he knew it, he was leaning onto his side, his eyes hooded and heart beating slowly as a cool, pleasant stream flowed through his veins. His vision danced and blurred, and distantly, he heard the sound of his cell phone ringing again. The last thing he saw was Tousen's face, wearing a sideways grin.
"Nighty-night, little punk."
XOXOXO
He couldn't take it anymore. He knew that Grimmjow would kill him. Probably rip his balls off at the root if he found out. But he just couldn't stand it; he had to do something. Grimmjow was still at the army base with Javier's soldiers, pricks that they were, and Shinji had left with the excuse of a bad headache. He crept into their shared room at Barragan's mansion and locked the door before going over to his bed. He grabbed his phone and stared at the screen for a few moments. What would he say? Would Shiro even answer? He had to find out. The suspense, anxiety and not knowing was killing him. He missed his lover so much, and he felt like shit about the way they'd parted.
He hit the call button and waited with bated breath. Please pick up, babe, he chanted in his mind. Please! The phone rang four times before an agitated voice came over the line.
"What the fuck do you want, you asshole? You've got a lot of nerve calling me like this!"
Shinji was so relieved and happy to hear Shiro's voice, he didn't even care that the man was cursing him out. "I love you."
A profound silence fell. Shinji sat with his head hanging towards his lap, heart racing like crazy. After what felt like forever, Shiro huffed.
"I'm hangin' up."
"Shiro, jus' listen ta me. I meant it. I still do. I jus'...I jus' had some business ta take care of that I couldn't tell ya 'bout. 'Member what I said 'bout this gang business? How some shit ya jus' can't know? Well, this is one a'those things. I'm comin' home in about three weeks, an' it'd be nice ta come home ta my boyfriend. I hope ya can forgive me fer...fer hittin' ya. I swear, I didn' mean it. I jus' didn't want ya ta get hurt from tryna follow me 'er somethin'."
He finally stopped talking, his stomach churning and heart pounding. Shiro had gone quiet again, and Shinji was surprised that the man hadn't interrupted his speech.
"Shin," Shiro started, voice thick with emotion. "If yer not back here in a month, I'm not answering my phone for ya ever again. Ya hear me?"
Shinji wanted to shout and dance, but he settled on smiling broadly and chuckling with relief. "I promise. I promise, Shiro. I'll be there in three weeks, an' we can start over. Ya miss me?"
"Of course I fuckin' miss you. I didn' want to, but I do. That's what happens when ya really love someone, and I got too much goin' on over here ta be worryin' 'bout you playin' games wit' me."
Shinji heard the distress in Shiro's voice and frowned. "What's goin' on?"
Instead of answering, Shiro sniffed and blew out a breath. Shinji instantly sat up. Was Shiro crying? What the hell had happened?
"Hey, talk ta me. What happened?"
Shiro started sobbing, and it was all Shinji could do not to hop the next plane out of Colombia. "I-I...I...We can't find Ichigo!" he finally blurted. "It's been a week, an' no one's seen 'er heard from 'im! He ain't answerin' his phone 'er nothin'! Shin, I can't find my fuckin' brother!"
Shinji felt all the blood leave his face as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As if things weren't bad enough with that asshole Luis breathing down Grimmjow's neck, trying to usurp his authority. Now, this. Oh, man, what a damned dilemma. Shinji was caught between a rock and a hard place. He wasn't supposed to talk to Shiro until they went back to America, so how was he supposed to tell Grimmjow that he'd found out that Ichigo had gone missing? This was probably the worst news Shinji could have received, Shiro not taking him back not included. If he told Grimmjow about his lover going missing, his head would be in a dangerous place, and he wouldn't be able to concentrate on the job at hand. But...he couldn't just not tell his best friend. It was something that Grimmjow needed to know.
"Fuck," he whispered. "Shiro. Shiro, calm down."
Shiro was totally distraught. He was crying so hard, he was hiccuping. "I dunno know what ta do! The last place he was seen was at his school! After that, he jus' disappeared! What if somethin's happened! What if...what if he's dead?"
"Don't think like that," Shinji stated firmly. "Goddammit," he growled. "Gimme some time ta figure out what we can do an' I'll call ya back, OK, babe?"
Shiro sniffed loudly and calmed just enough to utter a shaky, "Alright."
When Shinji hung up the phone, he ran both hands through his hair in agitation. This whole situation had gone from bad to completely fucked in a matter of minutes. How the hell was he supposed to tell his best friend that the man he was looking so forward to seeing upon their return was very likely dead?
XOXOXO
It'd been another long day, but Grimmjow was feeling more and more optimistic. He was going home in three weeks, and he couldn't wait. He'd spoken with Javier again, ironing out last minute details of their return, but all he could think about was Ichigo. Ichigo would be pissed to know that he'd been alive after all, but once he got over that and realized that Grimmjow was there and still wanted to be with him, everything would go back to being how it was...but better. Much better. Grimmjow wouldn't have to worry about the burden of being the head of his family anymore. He could live out the rest of his days in relative peace. He might have to lay low for a while, but it was worth it if he could do so with Ichigo.
He grinned as he made his way to his work truck. Just three more weeks, and he could hold the man he loved in his arms again. The thought alone was enough to sustain him for his remaining time in Colombia. However, he had his hands full with Luis. The dark-haired man had mysteriously up and disappeared from the base, along with about fifty of Javier's men. It was disconcerting, but nothing Grimmjow couldn't handle. He'd been in worse situations. Still, he covered his bases. He had a few guys that Barragan trusted, searching for the missing men. Once they found them, they were to report it back to Grimmjow as well as Barragan so the necessary steps could be taken in order to keep the peace.
He climbed into the truck and motored towards Barragan's mansion. He wondered what Shinji was up to. He knew his best friend too well, not to realize that the blond was holding out on him. Shinji was indeed sneaky when he wanted to be, but he could never fool Grimmjow. Grimmjow pulled into the circular drive of the mansion, cut the engine, and hopped out. He made his way to the door and stepped inside, arching a brow at the eerie silence of the large house. Where was everyone? He didn't even smell any food cooking.
Shrugging, he climbed the stairs to the room he shared with Shinji and turned the knob once he reached the door. Shinji was seated at the foot of his bed, hands wringing and guilt written all over his face. Grimmjow closed the door behind himself and sighed.
"What the hell did you do now?" he snapped.
Shinji gave him a haunted look, then opened and closed his mouth a few times before hanging his head. Grimmjow frowned. That wasn't Shinji's normal, I-did-something-bad face. He was really disturbed about something. And then, it clicked in Grimmjow's mind.
"Ya jus' couldn't wait, could ya?"
Shinji sighed harshly and shook his head. "I had ta talk ta 'im, Grimm. I had ta."
"Shin! This ain't no laughin' matter! What'd you tell him?"
"I didn't say nothin' 'bout you, but...but...shit, this ain't easy," Shinji ended in a grumble.
Grimmjow stalked over to his best friend until he was standing right in front of him. "What the fuck did you do?"
Shinji looked up, eyes a mixture of sadness, fear and concern. "I didn' do nothin'. It's what I heard that's botherin' me."
That took the anger out of him. If Shinji hadn't blabbed, then, what the hell had him acting like he'd seen a ghost? Grimmjow went over to his own bed and plopped onto it.
"So, what's up? Why ya lookin' like that?"
Shinji turned his body in Grimmjow's direction and took a visible, deep breath. "Man, there ain't no way ta soften this blow, but...I gotta tell ya. My conscience would eat me alive if I didn'."
That put a cold ball of dread in the pit of Grimmjow's stomach, but he disguised it and said, "Well, I'm ready whenever ya wanna stop beatin' aroun' the bush."
Shinji's eyes met his, and time seemed to stand still. He'd never seen his best friend look so serious.
"Shiro told me that Ichigo's gone missin'. They haven' heard from 'im in a week."
It felt like all the blood left his body in a rush until his fingers were numb and his body shook. He didn't know what to feel first. He was in shock, paralyzed with an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time: fear. It was icy-cold, like a breath of Winter air. It gripped his entire body as he stared at Shinji, hoping the man would crack his signature grin and tell him it was all a joke. But Shinji held his gaze, golden-brown eyes uncertain. And then, a rage so deep-rooted and dangerous reached over and placed Grimmjow in a choke-hold. With him "dead," Ichigo was supposed to be safe. Tousen should have gone on with his business, happy as a pig in shit. Grimmjow had no doubt in his mind that Tousen was behind Ichigo's disappearance, and because of that, Tousen's life was officially forfeited. Grimmjow couldn't even think straight, but he didn't act out. This kind of anger made him quiet and emotionless. Deadly, even. He climbed to his feet and stalked over to the door, where he stopped with his hand on the knob and glanced at Shinji over his shoulder.
"C'mon. We're goin' the fuck home."
Oi...I'm tired now, but I'll be back to writing tomorrow. I didn't proofread this, so please forgive any errors. I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Thank you for reading!
