This is way too long. I'm sorry, I was trying to write an actual chapter longer than three pages.
Oh, I switched to writing in past tense. Present tense doesn't suit me.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
Chapter One
Three months later
An unbelievably angry Rukia Kuchiki stormed down the hall, stabbing the floor with every step she took. Her large violet eyes blazed with purple fire, Sode no Shirayuki's hilt gripped tightly in her hand.
"Soi Fon!" She shouted, stopping in her tracks. Her eyes narrowed as the short, agile woman jumped out of nowhere, landing smoothly on the balls of her feet.
"Hmm?"
Rukia growled and held up a piece of paper, covered in fancy black calligraphy. Soi Fon, recognizing the intricate script, ripped it from her hands and skimmed through the words.
"'The fifth seat of your division, ex-Espada Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, has committed an indecent crime—although he himself claims that it was 'purely an accident'. He recently…" her voice trailed off as her mouth suddenly felt dry, and her eyes grew wide. "Jeagerjaques set fire to the Kuchiki house?"
"Yes!" Rukia griped.
"But… it's nearly impossible to harm your house. It's built from some of the strongest spiritual materials around."
It was true. Each captain of the Gotei 13 had an invincibly tough house in addition to the biggest room in their division's barracks. The house was usually occupied by the captains' relatives, although some liked to live in it themselves.
Rukia muffled a screech, partially shocking Soi Fon. Cool and calm Rukia was losing it, over a small fire?
"He burned the entire house down, with a—a fiery Cero," She hissed, as if reading the captain's thoughts. "And all my plushie Chappy the Rabbit collectibles—gone! Burned to crisp!"
Oh.
"Did anyone get hurt?" Soi Fon's lips formed into a thin, aggravated line.
"No," Rukia muttered, tipping her head down. Her side-bangs fell forward and covered one eye. "But my rabbits…!" She looked up at Soi Fon with an odd, sad little-girl-like expression, shocking the captain. There was no trace of the intense anger that she had radiated just a few seconds ago, and Rukia's irises were cool and (partially)composed—if not reflecting a bit gloominess—once again.
"I'm sorry, Rukia," Soi Fon apologized sincerely. It definitely felt odd to address a one hundred and fifty year-old Shinigami like a miserable kindergartener who'd dropped her favorite snack on the ground. She stifled a sigh as she thought about her impulsive, extremely violent fifth seat. He belonged in the Eleventh Division, not the second. Soi Fon often wondered if someone had made a slip-up and somehow, impossibly, written a loopy eleven that could easily be mistaken for a two.
"I… I'll make Grimmjow work until he bleeds. He'll pay you back for the bunnies, I promise." She stuck on a big, reassuring smile that looked unnatural and awkward on her face. Inside, unsurprisingly, she was seething, having just realized something awful. Grimmjow, the effing idiot, had really burned down Byakuya Kuchiki's house. Rukia was just an inhabitant of the indestructible (or so they'd thought) domicile.
And everyone knew that Byakuya could make anyone look like a fool, just by opening his mouth and letting a few words tumble out.
That inconsiderate, common-senseless Arrancar. Didn't Jeagerjaques know what Byakuya, with his imperturbable exterior and unusually truthful insults, could destroy the Second Division's reputation?
The thought of her division being sneered and laughed at made Soi Fon's fake smile fade. She coughed out another unwilling apology and hurried away, hoping to find her insensibly irrational fifth seat.
He was going to die a slow and painful death—she would make sure of it.
(It didn't matter that he was already dead.)
***
When Grimmjow was pleased with himself, he whistled a couple of tunes. When he was nervous, which was rare, he hummed theme songs from some black-and-white TV shows that one of his past selves had once watched.
And at that moment, he was doing both, hum-whistling a faux-cheerful jingle that had a rather dour edge to it.
It was a fairly depressing sound.
Grimmjow shifted uneasily from foot to foot. He could feel a dozen of angry Shinigami-reiatsus, most of them aimed toward himself. Soi Fon was probably looking for him right now, crazily pissed off.
Hey, it wasn't his fault that the guy-with-the-expensive-scarf's house had burst into flames. It was all because of Ikkaku Madarame. No one got on Grimmjow's nerves more than that bald-headed guy, so when he asked for a fight, Grimmjow gave him one.
Neither of the two bloodthirsty warriors had expected the Kuchiki house to turn an odd shade of blue and crumple into a heap of blazing inferno and broken materials.
Hmm, maybe it was Grimmjow's fault, after all.
Well, no one could blame him for his lack of control. Being an Espada was all about losing all discipline when Aizen said the word.
Aizen…
Grimmjow blinked. Kami, it was hard being a fake Shinigami when he was a fake fake one.
Wait, what?
He flinched. Three months had already passed, but most of Soul Society still didn't trust him or believe that he had truly 'crossed over from the dark side'. It seemed like Ichigo was his only friend, even though they had hated each other so much before. Their newfound friendship must have something to do with their similar personalities, because the substitute Shinigami now treated Grimmjow like a surrogate brother.
You're not supposed to emit so much hospitality toward a secret traitor.
At the thought, he chuckled sadistically at himself. "I really don't belong here…"
"Yeah. You don't." Someone said behind him.
Grimmjow turned around, recognizing the voice. He met a pair of narrowed dark eyes, framed by black lashes and placed on a perfect heart-shaped face. The messy black hair, cut short except for the two ropey, thread-bound braids, was a dead giveaway to anyone who couldn't identify her by her sharp facial features.
"Captain. How nice to see you." He gave her his signature maniacal grin, which she met with a scowl.
"Paperwork. Kuchiki House. Bleed." Soi Fon growled.
Grimmjow furrowed his eyebrows innocently. "Excuse me? Have you suddenly lost the ability to speak in coherent sentences?" He tsked loudly and shook his head, loose strands of un-gelled blue hair brushing against his forehead. "I can't believe it. A captain, of all people, should know how to speak properly."
Soi Fon looked very pleasantly murderous, Grimmjow thought gleefully to himself. He decided to provoke her further.
"My dear bee, what are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn't you be—oh, I don't know—rebuilding Captain Kuchiki's house?" His grin widened as Soi Fon's eyes hardened and her face turned a furious crimson.
"No," she spat out through gritted teeth, "but I'm sure you'll have the time for that when"—she handed him a tall stack of papers—"you finish filling in the paperwork. Understand?"
"Nuh-uh. Captain, I dooooon'ttt understand," he said, drawling out the word. "Shouldn't you, as the captain, be doing torturous activities like this? Or your lieutenant, at least?"
"You're the one who caused the fire," Soi Fon snarled. "So you're doing all the construction work and paperwork."
"Nah, you'll do it."
"You."
"You."
"You."
"You."
"You!"
Grimmjow opened his mouth again, but Soi Fon threw up her arms and made a loud, frustrated noise before he could speak.
"I don't have time for these child-ish games!" She barked. "Jeagerjaques—get to work!"
He gave her a half teasing, half indignant look. "You know, bee, it wouldn't hurt to call me something besides Jeagerjaques."
In response, she gave him a blistering glare that could (most likely) exterminate small children.
"Hey, what's with the constipated look on your face? Loosen up." He paused to flash a crooked grin. "And if you need to use the bathroom, just go." He said this with his feet planted firmly on the ground, reluctant to move.
Soi Fon ground her teeth together, chipping off tiny flake-like bits of her front tooth. "Gr…" She hesitated. "Gri… Grim…" Clenching her teeth, she spat out a slightly muffled, "Grimmjow!"
Said Arrancar blinked in surprise. "Yes?"
"Get… to… work." Soi Fon sucked in a breath. "Before…"
"Before what, my beloved captain?"
"Before you die all over again!"
"Sounds promising," he chuckled. "'Kay, okay, I'm getting to it." He began to walk away, waving over his shoulder. Then, in a flashy Sonído, he disappeared.
***
Ichigo Kurosaki was perfectly aware of the suspicious reiatsus around him. The distrust, disbelief, and uncertainty exuding through to him and everyone around him—they were all crystal clear, and the reiastus' owners made no effort to hide them. The doubtful thoughts weren't directed toward Ichigo himself, of course, but toward a certain blue-haired and blue-eyed Arrancar coming his way with a smirk on his face.
"Shinigami."
"Arrancar."
"Obtain any Hollow masks lately?"
"Lose any arms lately?"
A smirk here, a rude comment there. It was a push-and-pull sort of thing, and that was all Grimmjow and Ichigo needed. A rickety friendship, sometimes, can be a good one.
"You. Me. Right now." Grimmjow pulled out Pantera, holding his treasure up. Every so often, he felt awestruck by his own Zanpakutō. It wasn't a conceited, egotistical thing; it was more of a matter of marveling at the beauty of his past Menos form, sealed into a blade.
"Grimmjow. I'm not going to spar with you in a public place like this." Ichigo waved his arms wildly as if to prove his point, gesturing to the crowds of souls milling about around them. Lowering his voice, Ichigo added, "And by unsheathing Pantera, do you know what you did to those reiatsus? Even I can feel the sudden increase in… suspicion."
Grimmjow waved it off like the issue didn't bother him, but the way he flinched gave him away. "Whatever. I'm… used to it." His wicked grin spread across his face yet again. "So? Up for a fight?"
Ichigo mimicked the grin (which seemed bizarre for a guy who frowned most of the time) and pulled out Zangetsu. The enormous Zanpakutō never ceased to fascinate Grimmjow. How was it possible for a five-foot-nine-ish guy to hold up such an oversized weapon? The sword was always in Shikai form, long and wide and glinting, glimmering in the light. The huge spiritual katana looked ridiculous gripped in Ichigo's hand with the tip digging into the ground.
"So," Grimmjow said, holding his arms up as shield. Zangetsu sliced down powerfully, sending the former Espada reeling a couple meters back. Passerby gawked, some scrambling to get away as Ichigo's spiritual pressure increased.
"How're you doing with that Kuchiki chick?" Grimmjow grunted as the edge of the blade dug into his skin. He replaced his arm-shield with Pantera and pushed forward. Ichigo jumped back.
"Fine, actually," he replied slowly. "Better than fine. What about you and your fanclub?" He leapt forward and heaved Zangetsu toward Grimmjow, who shot out of the way.
"Fanclub?" He raised a cerulean eyebrow.
"Yeah. Apparently, the opposite sex likes Arrancar boys. Don't act like you haven't noticed the crowd of squealing girls that follow you everywhere." Ichigo smirked slightly and slammed his blade against his opponent's once again.
"Oh, no." Grimmjow said, voice dripping with irony. "I haven't." He propelled forward with a thrust of Pantera, and the substitute-Shinigami was thrown back. "Anyway, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be… elsewhere?"
Ichigo snorted. "You mean the human world? Nah, I'm waiting. Anyway, shouldn't you being doing paperwork?"
"Waiting for what?" Grimmjow asked curiously, ignoring the other comment.
The orange-haired teenager raised a hand to his face, and his Hollow mask materialized instantaneously. "Waitin' for Aizen," he mumbled behind his mask. Then, with a loud yell ("Getsuga Tenshou!"), he blasted Grimmjow backwards and onto the ground.
"Hey," The former Espada coughed as he stumbled up. "That's cheating! I thought we were doing sword-to-sword fighting."
At this, he banged Pantera against Zangetsu with a loud clang. Ichigo was silent, his eyes expressionless through the slit-like holes in his Hollow mask.
After a quiet moment, he finally asked, "Why is Aizen taking so long to…?"
Grimmjow, taken aback, sucked in a tense breath, his arm shaking slightly. Pantera fell to the ground, and Ichigo took a few steps back, face unreadable as his mask cracked off.
"How would I know?" The blue-haired Arrancar bent down to scoop up his Zanpakutō, and came back up with an easy, smooth smile that was nothing like the half surprised, half nervous expression he had worn just a few seconds ago.
Ichigo finally blinked. "Just… asking."
***
Some people, Ulquiorra thought, thought they were better than they actually are.
Like the new Sexta Espada, Aoila Tueraprez. She moved like she thought of herself as so lovely and flawless that she was boring, and was rather looked down on instead of admired.
Some people, Ulquiorra thought (watching Aoila prance around), were just disgusting. The way Aoila plastered smiles onto her face and laughed whenever someone said something remotely humorous (and most of the time it wasn't worth laughing at) was disgusting. The way she sucked up to Aizen was disgusting. And the way she went on about the 'horrible blue-haired traitor named Grimmjow'? That was disgusting, too.
Ulquiorra had never been a… er, friend of Grimmjow's, but he much preferred the aggressive and brutal man over the revolting drag queen that was now his contemporary comrade. The fourth Espada didn't believe in building positive relationships with others—life and afterlife was fear, negativity, and power. He also liked violence. That didn't mean he agreed with Grimmjow and his ideals, or cared about his… well-being. Ulquiorra didn't care about his former associate. Nope. Not at all.
Actually, he kinda missed Grimmjow and his violent behavior.
Nah. Just kidding.
Right?
"Ulqui!"
The expressionless Espada flinched at the nickname, turning around to address a certain [very irritating] pink-eyed girl.
"Aoila."
"I was wondering," She asked as she sidled up to him, practically purring, "if you could tell me a bit about the traitor who formerly had my occupation."
Oh, Jesus.
"There's nothing to say about Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said monotonously. "Ask the others if you want to know their thoughts on him."
"Pleeease, Ulqui?" Noila wheedled. She twirled a finger around a long strand of yellow-gold hair. "I wanted to ask you, not Starrk or Harribel or Barragan…"
Ulquiorra gritted his teeth in frustration, a rare deed for someone as impassive and unaffected as him. Aoila was purposely naming Espadas higher than his own rank, a way to make him feel like a coward.
"Grimmjow is merely a traitor," he said, lying through his teeth (quite literally). "He betrayed Aizen and he betrayed us. He, like Ichigo Kurosaki, is another target we now aim to kill."
"But Aizen-sama said that Grimmjow's not really a traitor to us, but a soon-to-be traitor to the Shinigami." The Espada smiled in a 'See, I know just as much as you do' way.
Ulquiorra's mysteriously captivating green eyes widened a fraction of a millimeter. He told her? But… he said he would only tell the truth to us top four, and Gin and Tousen.
"He also said," Aoila rambled on, "that Grimmjow would replace Zommari—right under me!"
Suddenly, it became so clear to Ulquiorra that he almost showed a flicker of amusement. My, my, the pokerfaced Arrancar thought. Our leader is so cunningly manipulative.
Apparently, Aizen hadn't thought to mention to Aoila that, once the former Espada came back, he would take over and she would end up like Luppi: Gone, with a hole punched through her stomach.
No one took Grimmjow's throne. He thought of himself as a king.
Even though, clearly, he was not.
Oh, Ichigo. You are so OOC in my crap-filled story world. I deeply apologize and will try harder.
Review!