Groaning, he struggled out of his bed having barely fallen asleep less than five minutes ago after a long night of painting. The bright sunlight invading the room between the gaps in the curtains, he scowled, flinging a hand over his eyes and stumbled blindly to the door. The young woman standing outside his apartment looked terrible, her right eye was swollen shut, surrounded by colourful bruises and her nose was covered in bandages. Probably domestic abuse.
"Yer nose is broken," he mumbled yawning, barely opening the door to his apartment. He hadn't been expecting her. He didn't even know who she was but he had to since she knocked on his door his neighbours ignored him like the plague and he hardly had visitors. Ichigo frowned a little bitting her lip, wondering if she should just leave.
"Uh huh, are you okay with my face being bruised like this?" She asked, unsure if he wanted to paint her picture while she was still bruised. Artist's were peculiar people and would only paint what they wanted, her father had once mentioned her own mother had been like that when she was for a short time a painter. The man before Ichigo looked at her with utter confusion before realising who she was and stood a little straighter, interest flickering in his eyes. He opened the door a bit wider but not by much.
"Sorry, I gotta sculpture wedged behind it," he explained. Ichigo's eyes widened in surprise when she finally entered the main room of his apartment, every available surface was covered in paintings and such. His back wall was a mural, the entire expanse of the wall had been painted to look like a city-scape from Venice, even the people were detailed and unique. One could spend hours staring at it and still find something new within the painting. But now wasn't the time for day-dreaming. The only things in the room that weren't art related was a paint splattered bed and a stool. Ichigo stopped before a portrait of a woman, she looked to be in her mid fifties. Grey was starting to streak her long blue hair and she looked sad. The features that stood out the most where her eyes. They were white but not a natural white, it was as if they were clouded over, underneath the white flecks of blue could still be seen.
'His mother perhaps?' She thought turning to ask, only to find Grimmjow had snuck up on her. He took one look at the painting, a scowl marring his face, before covering it with a piece of black linen that sat on the floor beneath it. The woman in the painting must have died.
"Are you okay?" Ichigo asked, moving away from the eerie painting. He said nothing, didn't even glance at her, his shoulders hunched a little like he was in pain. She watched silently as he pulled out a clean canvas, throwing the one he was currently painting on the floor. Ichigo moved to pick it up and place it else where but before she even touched it he yelled, "leave it there!" He pointed to the bed for a brief second, disappearing into another room. Sighing she made her way over to the bed, blankets and such had been just tossed onto it in a heap. Slowly she slipped off her jacket and sat down on the mattress, dressed in nothing more than a loose white sundress. Grimmjow had entered the room again just as she sat down pulling her knees to her chest.
"Stay like that, rest yer head on yer knees an don't smile," he ordered, beginning to paint.
She sat like that for hours, never moving. Not even when he stopped painting, for some reason all she wanted to do was just sit there, it was the first time she had felt so peaceful since coming to the city. Grimmjow stood before her, bending to stare closely at her face. He was interested in the bruise more than anything. He reached out tracing a finger over it, marvelling at the array of colours. Ichigo slowly looked up and blinked, honey-brown eyes dragging him from his trance. He retreated once again holding his paint brush and settled back onto his stool. Something about it was wrong, it was the eyes. He liked her gaze better when she looked up at him, the paint was wet he could still change it. There was something there, it was what caught his interest when he first saw her, it changed her completely.
She watched as he left the apartment without a word, slowly she unfolded her legs. Picking up her jacket, Ichigo drifted over to the canvas unsure if she should look at it, it was half-finished or maybe that was how he wanted it. The body was pale, fading out at the edges. The paint looked washed out, the face stood out the most, it seemed he had spent all his time just painting the face and the eyes. There was something innocent about the eyes, she didn't even think she could look like that.
"'M not finished, I think I may add more ta the body," he muttered, coming up behind her. She didn't jump but dropped her jacket, quickly bending to pick it up. He just stared at her, her hair had fallen away from her back revealing the ink staining her skin. Grimmjow slowly lowered his hand to her back, fingers tracing over what her could see of the tattoo.
"That looks like a gang tattoo," he murmured finger tips following the lines of a horn peeking out from her dress. Ichigo moved away from him quickly, as if his touch burned her, yanking her jacket back on cover up that damning mark. He had mumbled something about finishing it without her, thrusting a roll of notes into her hand before literally pushing Ichigo out of his apartment and locking the door.
She scowled into her drink, a glass of scotch her companion. After the day Ichigo had, she really needed it. Nobody outside of the organisation knew about it, and she had sworn to herself nobody ever would. It wasn't a mark she was proud of anymore.
"You okay Ichi?" Chad asked, taking a quick break since there was a lapse in customers. She averted her gaze, not sure what exactly to say to him. He didn't know about her past, at least not that part of it. Without another word he stood, patting her shoulder. His silent way of telling her he'd wait till she was ready to talk. That was the great thing about Chad, he was completely loyal and never pried, silently waiting until the other party wanted to talk. Always there when you needed help. Ichigo managed a weak smile, finishing her drink with a sigh.
"If Shi comes by tell her I'm at the gym." The giant nodded, waving as she left. She slid through the crowd quickly before any of the resident perverts tried grabbing at her again. It was rather annoying, and threats didn't work, the next time it happened she was seriously considering breaking the perpetrator's wrist. Glancing to her left, Ichigo took a deep breath before starting to run.
The even pounding of her feet calmed her, all she could hear was the steady fast paced beating of her heart as she worked hard to keep her breathing even. She used the familiar burn in her legs to encourage her to run faster. It wasn't long before she reached the gym, the place was old and the building looked like it had gone through World War Two, probably had. The taped and cracked windows were the same from when her father boxed, she remembered them from when she was a child. Boxing had been her life since the day she turned six and she would continue to box until the day she died. Nothing could make her stop. When she reached the door she noted that the lights were on in the main floor. Her father must have been there.