I do not own Bleach.
It was him.
Ichigo was sure of it.
Karakura was a not a tourist destination. It wasn't a bustling metropolis. Of course there were foreigners, but they were few, and they tended to stick out like a sore thumb.
This man – he had seen him before. It was that man, the one he had seen while he'd been visiting Nel, the man who had been staring at him in the cafeteria, who had been staring at him in the bar. Ichigo had offered his last cigarettes to that man. He wondered if he was being stalked.
"Ichigo? You listenin' or..."
He started, tearing his gaze away from the figure disappearing into the crowd and back to Ikkaku, who sat next to him with a raised eyebrow.
"Somethin' wrong?"
"Eh? Oh, no, it's nothing. What were you saying?"
Ikkaku took a swig of his beer and smacked his lips. "I was saying, I can't just simply hand you all that info, Ichigo. This shit is serious business. You realize what this guy was put away for?"
"Well yeah, but you know it better. That's why I'm asking."
"Yo, just 'cause I'm police don't mean I know everything about everything. I might be a detective now but I sure as hell wasn't when all of that shit went down."
Ichigo resisted the urge to sigh. They were sitting outside, the stretched out awning of a cafe shading them from the already fierce sun. He felt sweat run down the back of his neck. His beer was cool and refreshing, but did nothing to quench the burning fire inside him. Those flames had sustained him for weeks now, and even though he had settled back into his family home and an everyday routine with an ease that startled him, he still could not stop searching.
Now, though, it seemed he had stumbled onto a roadblock. It bothered him more than he liked to admit.
"Well, whatever. It's no big deal."
Ikkaku gave him a sideways glance. "Don't lie to me. We both know you can't lie for shit. What is this really about?"
"It's not-"
"I said, don't lie." Ikkaku was frowning deeply. He was an intimidating man, with a shiny bald head that he still insisted he shaved, and narrow dark eyes, but Ichigo had known him since they had went to the Academy together in their youth and he knew better than to judge a book by its cover.
Ikkaku would help him, he knew it. All he had to do was tell the truth.
The only problem was how surprisingly difficult that was.
"It's about...Grimmjow." The name felt like it had been scraped off his tongue by force.
At that, the frown turned into raised eyebrows. "Oh."
"Yeah. It's a little, uh, complicated."
"Huh. Well. OK." Ikkaku scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Wait. I remember kids at school saying he was a gangster but you're telling me that was true? He's connected to Aizen somehow?"
"He worked for him."
"Oh shit. For real?"
"For real." Ichigo hesitated, then leaned in closer. "And I'm pretty sure he was a key witness in the trial. Remember when he disappeared before exams and stuff?"
"I remember. It screwed you up." He seemed angry about it. Another good thing about Ikkaku – he was brutally honest, but only because he cared.
"It screwed me up," Ichigo confirmed, "and I think I'm still a little bit screwed up. I kept running away from it but it's about time I grew up and dealt with...with him dying, instead of sticking my head in the sand."
His voice had cracked. He stared into the dregs of his beer, now rapidly turning lukewarm and tasteless. Ikkaku sighed and Ichigo glanced up at him. His friend looked conflicted, frowning again and tapping his empty glass with restless fingers.
"I'll see what I can do," he said quietly, after a while. "But don't get your hopes up. I ain't some high ranking officer, I can't just look this shit up and hand it out to anyone. It might take a while, and it might not be much."
"I don't need much," Ichigo said in a rush, overcome with gratefulness. It was tinged with a little shame – so many years of silence and suddenly out of the blue he had descended, meeting with old, close friends for nothing more than his ulterior motives. "Thank you. Really."
A careless wave. "It's nothing."
"It's not nothing, dumbass. This really means a lot to me. Let me get you another beer."
"I won't say no to that," said Ikkaku, nodding his head in acknowledgement.
Ichigo came back in minutes, two glasses overflowing. The foam ran down the sides, wet his hands, and he wiped them with a handkerchief, dabbing at the back of his neck and his temples to rid himself of sweat. Either he had gotten far too accustomed to gloomy English weather or it was freakishly hot for springtime.
Ikkaku took a sip and sighed in pleasure. "This is cool, chilling out with you. It's been a while, right? We should get the whole gang together and go to karaoke or something one of these days."
Ichigo's heart beat rapidly. He had hoped the other man would say something to that effect.
"Yeah, we should totally do that." In his mind he ran through a checklist: Ikkaku, police; Shuuhei, journalist; Rangiku, law firm; Shinji...whatever the hell he does...
He hadn't yet contacted Hirako Shinji. He hadn't even told him about quitting his job, his romance drama, or even the fact that he was back in Japan. He supposed he should. Shinji had helped him so much and he still considered the blond weirdo a friend despite the fact that they rarely contacted each other anymore. He owed it to the man to at least see him now that Ichigo had returned to his home town.
The only thing was, visiting him meant returning to that house.
Ichigo drank deeply from his beer. No, he couldn't be weak anymore. He couldn't run from his problems anymore. What had happened to brave, reckless, compulsive Kurosaki Ichigo, who had run at his problems head-on? Where had this timid, scared stranger come from?
If Grimmjow were still alive, he would have been shaking his head in disappointment. You've gotten soft, Kurosaki, he would have sneered, contemptuous.
At that thought, Ichigo's buckling resolve was reinvigorated; downing the last of his drink he quickly said his goodbyes to Ikkaku after planning their next get-together with the rest of the gang, making his way to a familiar part of town. His feet carried him there without thinking, muscle memory taking over even as his palms prickled with sweat. He had not walked this road for so many years but here he was again, pulling himself out of the quicksand he'd been sinking into for too long, trying to make someone who wasn't there anymore proud.
But you would be proud, Grimmjow, Ichigo thought, I think you would be. I'm trying to look forward. I can't change the past. You're dead, and I thought I died too. But I didn't. I can't keep living like this. I'm sorry.
He didn't want to start crying in the middle of the street but it was difficult. Something hard and round was lodged behind his sternum and made it difficult to breathe. He knew these streets so well, he could have walked through them blindfolded. When he finally came upon it, he hadn't expected his reaction.
For a good few seconds he couldn't move. Seeing Grimmjow's old house again was a punch to the gut. He had run here one cold, cold night long ago, steam billowing from his nose and mouth, words running through his mind on a nonstop loop.
He's completely in love with you! He's completely in love with you! He's completely-
He shook himself out of it, reminding himself to look forward and not back. When Ichigo buzzed the intercom there was no answer for a while. Then a crackle and a familiar voice.
"Hey, who -"
The voice cut short.
"Uh, hello? It's Ichigo. Kurosaki Ichigo." He scratched the back of his neck. Maybe he had been mistaken. Maybe Shinji wasn't home. Maybe he didn't even live in this house anymore. "Is that Hirako Shinji? Do you, uh, remember me?"
A short pause. Then, "Yeah, I do. Come right in."
Ichigo pushed open the gate and walked up to the front door. The front yard had changed. He noted with some disapproval the overgrown rose bushes, the weeds sprouting almost everywhere, fallen leaves and petals lying rotting; what Grimmjow's father had tamed and tended so carefully for so many years had gone to seed. He couldn't help but wonder what else had changed. He imagined Shinji knocking down walls, destroying rooms Ichigo himself had spent so much time in – the thought of Grimmjow's room in particular not existing anymore made his heart palpitate in a rush of anger and desolation.
No. No, Ichigo. It's just a room. Stop.
Shinji opened the door and was waiting for him. His hair was cut differently, in some strange diagonal style, but his clothes were still the latest fashion and he looked as sharp as ever. He barely seemed to have aged.
"Well, look who it is." Leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, he grinned at his visitor. "Almost had a heart attack when I saw ya on the camera. Long time no see, huh."
Ichigo stopped and hesitated. Did he shake Shinji's hand? Did he bow? Or would they hug?
He felt a hand alight on his shoulder and squeeze. Shinji was still smiling, but it had an edge of fondness to it.
"It's good to see ya. Looks like yer keepin' well."
He decided on a short bow of the head, mumbling, "It's all thanks to you, really."
"Hah, please! It was the least I could do. You were literally wastin' away, kid...here, why don't ya come in. Let's get some tea or somethin'."
The hand on his shoulder led him inside. As soon as he stepped over the threshold and took his shoes off he could feel the beat of his heart accelerate. The words he had practiced on the way there dried to dust in his mouth and he clammed up, letting himself be guided to the kitchen in near silence while Shinji asked after him cheerfully, seeming not to notice this newfound reservation.
"Yer hair's gotten even longer! Still suits ya. Y'know, I once had hair down to my butt but it was a literal pain in the ass, haha, kept sittin' on it! Can you believe that? I was a lot younger then though, maybe younger than you are now! How old are you now? How long has it been?"
Ichigo sat at the dining table – it was completely different to the one Grimmjow and his family had owned. The new décor was monochrome and modern, compared to the antiquated clutter Ichigo was used to. The whole place had been refurbished and renovated; even the layout of the rooms had been changed since his visits there to talk and meet with Shinji after Grimmjow's death.
It was a different house. It was someone else's home now.
Strangely, the realization made him relax. The house was still there, and so were the memories. The happiness he had felt here would never die. The people who had lived in it would live forever in him.
His thoughts were interrupted by two cups and teapot being set in front of him delicately. Shinji poured both cups to the brim without spilling a drop and pushed one towards Ichigo.
"So what brings you here to my humble abode?"
The blond was staring at him, head tilted to the side. Ichigo could tell that he had been blindsided at the beginning, but now he was just curious, eyes raking over him frankly.
He took a deep breath. "Do you remember the people who lived here before you did? Grimmjow Jaegerjaques and his dad? You were their lawyer or something, right?"
"Yeah, sure I remember them."
"I don't know if I ever told you this but...me and Grimmjow. We were...we were...together. As a couple. For a while."
Shinji flapped a hand. "Oh, I figured that out."
"You did?"
"Well, the will specified that you be told before anyone else if anything happened to him, and you weren't family so I gathered that you were something else to him. And the look on yer face when I told you..." The grin slipped off his mouth and he looked unexpectedly sober.
"It doesn't bother you?"
"What, that yer gay? Nah, not at all. Ain't nothing wrong with love, no matter who you love, as long as yer not hurtin' anyone."
"I'm not gay, I'm bi," mumbled Ichigo, blushing. "Actually when I was in London I was with a girl for a long time. But we broke up not too long ago. It was pretty messy. Really messy."
Shinji nodded but didn't pry. Ichigo was grateful for it.
"Anyway. So we broke up and I decided to come back home just a couple of weeks ago, for a number of reasons. And I wanted to see how you were doing and, well...ask you some questions."
"Questions?"
"Yeah. About Grimmjow. Like you said, you were their lawyer, and there were a couple of things I wanted to know about what happened to them...well, to Grimmjow...before he died."
"Oh. I see." Shinji sipped at his tea carefully. His face was an unreadable mask. "What sort of thing did ya want to know?"
Ichigo hesitated. For some reason, he felt unsure about revealing to Shinji everything that he knew, all the research he had undertaken. There was something slippery about him – the more he thought about it, the more he realized how little he knew about the other man. He dodged questions about his work and life like a professional, and Ichigo didn't know if he would resort to outright lies to keep his privacy private. After all, he did profess to be a lawyer, and they tended to be a slippery sort.
But he decided to be honest, and hoped that Shinji would do the same.
"I want to know whether or not you were involved with him in the trial against Aizen Sousuke. And I want to know if Grimmjow really died in an accident, or if he was killed on purpose."
The cup of tea had stilled halfway to his lips. A blond head tilted; eyes looked at him with a cutting gaze, then turned away and stared out the window. His brow was creased slightly, and he sighed, putting the cup down.
"Huh. Interesting."
"I know you played a part in it. You're a lawyer, you represented his family, but I'd never even heard of you until after the trial, until you showed up at my house and told me he was dead. Don't lie to me and say you didn't have anything to do with it," said Ichigo, an edge of accusation in his voice.
For a long while Shinji was silent. Then, a soft snort. "Well, I guess you figured out that much. I knew you were a smart kid."
"Be honest with me." Ichigo stared at him, frowning thunderously. "You know what I've been through. You saw it. You helped me through it. You've done a lot for me, I know I owe you a lot...I'm just asking you this one last favor. Please."
Shinji didn't answer for a long time. He sighed deeply. Ichigo had never seen him look so serious.
"This is shit I didn't want you gettin' mixed up with. You don't know what yer stickin' yer nose into."
"I do. I know more than you think." His hands had turned into fists, resting on the tabletop.
"Oh, is that so? Why don't you tell me what you know then."
"Only if you promise to tell me what you know."
"That ain't a bargain I can just make. This involves people whose lives are at risk. I can't go blabbin' just to satisfy yer curiosity."
"It's not just curiosity, I..." Ichigo stopped himself, setting his jaw in determination. "It's not just about curiosity, Shinji. It's about revenge. I think Aizen killed Grimmjow and he's still running around somewhere, continuing to do what he does. Isn't that right? He's still killing people. I know about Barragan Luisenbarn, I know about Coyote Starrk, I know about the people who defected and gave evidence about him, and I know how they ended up. I want to help, that's what I'm saying! I'm not that screwed up little boy anymore. It's been five years. You can trust me."
"I know I can, Ichigo, but it's not just a question of trust."
He sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. For the first time, Ichigo saw how old he might be, he saw the lines around Shinji's eyes and mouth, how tired and stressed the other man might be underneath his chirpy exterior. He muttered, "I guess the cat's outta the bag. Whether yer aware of it or not, yer already involved. I'll tell you this much – Aizen knew about you and Grimmjow. You were already a target."
"He knew about us? What do you mean, I was a target?"
"He knew Grimmjow was up to something. If you know as much as you say, you'll know about the tape, won't ya?"
Ichigo blinked at the mention of the mysterious, ubiquitous tape. "Oh. That. Well, yeah. I know of it, but I don't know..."
"Why it was so important?"
"Yes. Why was it?"
Shinji looked at him for far too long. Ichigo refused to wilt under that probing gaze.
"I can't promise you the entire story, Ichigo. I'll tell ya what I think you should know, but only if you swear to me you won't go pokin' yer nose into this anymore."
He clenched his jaw, silent.
"Swear it! Otherwise yer gonna walk outta here with nothin', be sure of that."
"I swear," Ichigo growled after a second's hesitation, already knowing what he needed to do.
Once again those eyes swept over him, piercing. Then, satisfied, Shinji drank the last of his tea and cleared his throat.
"Right. First of all, tell me everything you've found out so I can fill in the holes in yer knowledge, so to speak."
"Well...I'll tell you everything I can." He stared at his reflection in the teacup, wondering where to start. His hair really had gotten far too long. He needed to ask Yuzu to cut it soon.
A deep breath. "I know that Aizen Sousuke was a well-respected man and he was very powerful for a long time, and he started his professional career at a law firm but it came out years later – during the trial – that he was involved in the murder of several shareholders or executive members of the board and then pretended to be them, redirecting and embezzling money for a while. He somehow managed to avoid being found out and I think people discovered that he pinned the crimes on someone else, or framed them or something...anyway, he got away with it. And after he left the law firm and joined another company run by Barragan Luisenbarn, who he ousted from the top in some kind of coup or hostile takeover or something. And then..."
Ichigo closed his eyes, racking his brains and trying to find the thread of the story again – it had seemed so clear when it had all been sitting in front of him, but here, now, with Shinji's intense eyes upon him, he was fumbling for words.
"And then, he blackmailed and threatened people into supporting him, until he got so big and successful he didn't really need to anymore. He started getting involved with low-level mafia early in his career, then worked his way to the top. He branched out from stealing money and embezzlement to...to human and drug trafficking. He murdered his enemies, or he made people do it for him, and he managed to hide it well. He hired people based on their contacts and their families, because of who they were or who they knew...I think he targeted Grimmjow because of his parents, his mother especially, but, obviously...that didn't work out..."
He trailed off, cursing himself. It had all sounded so much better in his head. Weeks of poring through newspaper articles, making detailed notes and even spider diagrams (Spider diagrams! he thought crossly, I haven't drawn one of those damn things since middle school!) in order to connect the myriad dots of this drawn-out mystery, and all he could come up with was a stuttering, stumbling mess. His elementary school book reports had been more skilfully done.
Shinji hadn't said a word. He was still looking at Ichigo, his face very dark and serious.
"Yer missin' a coupla things here and there but seems like you have the gist of it. Humor me here...how did you find all this out? Last time I checked, you were pretty clueless about the whole situation."
Ichigo shrugged. "I was too caught up in the fact that Grimmjow was dead to think about why he was dead. I never really watched the news or read the newspapers or anything back then. But recently I met up with a relative of his and we started talking about him and she kind of tipped me off, I guess. This is all her work really. I'm just, uh, continuing the legacy."
"And what's the endgame of this legacy, huh?"
"Like I said. I want revenge."
His tone was flat. Ichigo looked the other man in the eyes. All of a sudden there was not a hint of a joke or a smile on Shinji's face, and it was unsettling to say the least. The first time they had met, Shinji had not stopped smiling. Ichigo had always imagined him as the class clown, an attention-getter, confident and loud, but the person sitting before him here was someone else entirely. Older, wiser, perhaps more dangerous than he had previously thought.
"I can't stop you from being involved. Like it or not, you already are. Certain people are gonna be pissed though." Shinji seemed to be speaking to himself rather than Ichigo, turning to stare out the window with a frown.
"I'm going to do what I need to do to stop him. You said I was already a target, right? There are only two options, and I'm not going to run away again. I'm stronger now, and I can help you."
He wasn't answered. The other man seemed to be in turmoil, setting his jaw and closing his eyes while he thought deeply, then impaling Ichigo with an intense, heated gaze.
"Like I said, I can't promise you nothin'. I can't let you put yerself in danger. But I will tell you this much – the tape that keeps poppin' up. It was owned by Inugumi Daichi, who was in charge of the security of the original law firm Aizen worked at. He was also in charge of personal security at certain people's homes, and his cameras managed to record Aizen murdering several high-up members of the board in person, clear as day. That tape was basically a compilation film of all of those murders, made by Inugumi himself."
Ichigo stilled. It took a second for the gravity of those words to sink in.
The tape was basically a compilation film of all of those murders.
His palms started to sweat. He had touched that tape, at Grimmjow's house, rooting through drawers, tossing it away like so much garbage. Who even listens to tapes anymore? he had asked with a laugh.
"Inugumi was blackmailing Aizen with it, and things would have gone perfectly to plan if a certain blue-haired idiot hadn't decided on a whim to just pocket the damn thing. Of course, Aizen knew as soon as it happened. He killed Inugumi to keep it quiet, and by that time Inugumi himself was well known as a shady character himself so no one thought much about it. But Grimmjow was a valuable asset to him, too valuable to throw away that early, but of course Aizen got suspicious about his motives so he started keepin' closer tabs on him. And eventually he found out about you. And obviously that was too good not to take advantage of."
"Me?" Ichigo's mouth was dry. "What do you mean-"
"Y'know what I mean. Yer relationship. You were his weakness, and Aizen exploited that. He threatened you, and he basically told Grimmjow to commit fully to him and become a full-time hired murderer, or he would kill you."
"And Grimmjow..."
"Chose not to. He...came to me. Well. To us."
"To us," echoed Ichigo, heart racing. "He went to you. But...why? You're not a policeman, you're a lawyer..."
"So is Aizen."
"Aizen...and you? Wait..." Another blinding moment of enlightenment. "You and Aizen. You know each other? Knew each other?"
"We worked together when he was just starting out. He was my second-in-command, and I was the one he pinned those murders on." Shinji poured another cup of tea and sipped at it delicately, then continued, "It ruined my career but I hid for a while, putting together all the evidence I had against him so I could destroy him like he destroyed me, but it wasn't 'til that smurf boyfriend of yers came along with that fuckin' tape that I could do anything about it. I'll answer yer questions now – yes, I was involved. I brought the case against Aizen Sousuke to court, and Grimmjow was a key witness." His voice dropped. "And yes...he was killed afterwards. It wasn't an accident."
Shinji said it calmly as if he was doing nothing more than reporting the weather, but the bottom had dropped out of Ichigo's stomach. His body and mind were reeling. The cogs and gears were turning, ticking, pieces were falling into place, holes in his theories were being filled – yes, that strange relationship between Grimmjow and Shinji, their secretive communication, Shinji taking pity on Ichigo, sending him away, they had both been trying to protect him -
He was trying to protect me.
Grimmjow, you were trying to protect me.
Oh, you would be so pissed if you knew what I was doing right now.
His nails were biting into the skin of his palm. He thought they might draw blood. Aizen had found out about them, he had tried to use Ichigo against Grimmjow, he threatened them – and Grimmjow had decided to take him down instead. And he had been killed for it.
Ichigo felt his heart swell, in a mixture of pride and grief and anger. The more he found out about the whole affair, the deeper he was digging himself into a hole he couldn't climb out of. The more he found out about Grimmjow's sacrifices, his struggles, the love he already felt inflated until it dripped from every cell in his body, whetting the steel blade of his anger. Everything he had found out so far, every little detail, only confirmed in his heart what his gut already knew.
Perhaps Grimmjow and Shinji hadn't been able to defeat this monster, but Ichigo would find a way.
His tea had gone cold. It was a good thing: the day hadn't yet finished, and he knew it would still be sticky and warm outside. He gulped it down, mentally flicking through names and faces; there was one in particular which inspired a vague feeling of disgust, but what had to be done had to be done.
"Thanks for everything, Shinji," muttered Ichigo, abruptly standing and scraping his chair back. "I need to get going. I'll visit you again soon."
He was met with a raised eyebrow. "Is that it? Leavin' so soon? Thought you wanted revenge."
"I do. But I asked you to tell me the truth, and you asked me not to get involved anymore. So I won't."
"That's bullshit," said Shinji. His face was taut with suspicion. "Yer plannin' somethin'. I can tell. This ain't a game, Ichigo, people get involved with this madman, they usually end up dead. How can I hammer that fact into your stupid mule-head brain? What exactly about this are you not gettin'?"
"That's a good question. Wish I could answer it, but I'm in a bit of a rush, I'll see you later." As he left, he shouted behind him, "Thanks for the tea. Don't worry, I'll see myself out."
He was running out the door before Shinji could say another word, slipping on his shoes and pulling out his phone. Scrolling through his contacts he found the person he was looking for and sighing in resignation, dialed the number, his run slowing down to a walk.
"Why hello there, cutie," the voice on the other side drawled.
Ichigo's ever-present scowl deepened. "I told you not to call me that."
"How can I not call you cutie when you're so cute?" Everything about the man was sleazy, including his voice, and Ichigo loved to hate it. "I assume you're calling 'cause you miss me."
"You're absolutely wrong. I was calling because..." He hesitated. He was about to make a deal with the devil, but he had no other choice. "You told me you know someone who's good with computers."
"I do indeed. Need something?"
There was an underlying glee in Ginjou's voice and Ichigo shivered. He could only imagine what the other man might demand in return for this favor.
"I might. I, uh, I'm looking for some info about...someone. Well. Several someones."
"I see..."
"That's it, really." He tried to keep his voice as casual as possible. If Ginjou knew how much Ichigo needed his help, there was no knowing how difficult he would be about it. "It's not a big deal but if you could help..."
He heard the other man laugh, a dark, low chuckle. "Oh, cutie-pie. If it wasn't a big deal, why would you be calling me right now? You're really that desperate, huh? Well. I'm a nice guy, I'll help you out. But I can't do it for nothing."
The phone tightened in his grip. "What do you want?"
"Hey, you can't put me on the spot like that. Seems like you're in a hurry and you want a lot of things, just like me." A short, pregnant pause. "Tell me the details now, and I'll get back to you with the info...and the terms of payment."
"When?"
"As soon as I can."
That wasn't good enough. Ichigo chewed on his lip, thinking furiously. "Three days. If this guy is as good as you say he is, that should be enough time, right?"
"Three days, huh? You drive a hard bargain, cutie-pie."
"Stop calling me that!"
"No." Ginjou's voice was still cruelly gleeful. "That's the first thing you're gonna give me. Otherwise I'll hang up right now."
A hot flush was working up over the back of his neck, staining his ears red with anger. Ichigo took a deep, calming breath. If this was what it took...
"Fine. Call me whatever you want, as long as you come through with this." He tried to sound as threatening as possible – it wasn't difficult. Given the level of his rage, his voice came out a rough growl.
"No problem. Now, give me those names and I'll work my magic," the other man purred.
"Aizen Sousuke, Hirako Shinji and...Grimmjow Jaegerjaques."
"Jagger-what now?"
Ichigo clenched his teeth and spelled it out for him. As soon as Ginjou confirmed he had understood, he hung up without another word, heart racing.
He had just done potentially one of the most stupid things in his life, and given what a mess his life had been recently, that was no light statement to make. Ichigo wondered not for the first time what the hell he was doing.
The next day he was woken by his father bursting through his bedroom window via a flying kick which he barely managed to avoid, rolling out of bed and grabbing the offending leg, hurling his father back out the way he had come.
"My darling son, your reflexes have dulled!" Isshin howled as he clung to the window ledge with his fingertips. "In your better years you would have woken a fraction of a second earlier!"
"A fraction of a second earlier, huh?" Ichigo smiled down at his father dangerously, pulling the older man's fingers free. "Funny, 'cuz looks like you only have a fraction of a second more to live!"
"Have mercy! I'm only trying to help you live a healthier lifestyle!"
"By trying to give me a heart attack every morning?!"
"Guys, you're being way too loud! The neighbors are gonna complain again!" Karin had slammed open his door and stood glaring at both of them, arms crossed.
"Let's see how good your reflexes are, goatface!" Ichigo said, ignoring her and pulling the last of Isshin's fingers free from his purchase on the window. The doctor shrieked as he fell to the ground. Karin quickly joined her brother at the window and both watched in interest as their father seemed to crumple upon impact, only to break his fall at the last second with a perfectly executed roll, jumping back up to his feet and giving them both a thumbs up.
"Nice try, son, but you're going to have to work harder if you are to defeat the one and only Kurosaki Isshin!" With that proclamation, he struck what he must have thought was an impressive pose, flexing his arms. Karin blew a raspberry, completely unimpressed; Ichigo rolled his eyes and shut his window.
"You can't keep rising to his bait, Ichi-nii," Karin scolded him.
"Wait a freaking minute, why is this my fault? He's the grown man in this situation!"
"You're both grown men, so start acting like it!" She stomped on his foot for good measure. "Go get dressed, you're late for breakfast!"
Ichigo cursed as he hopped on his good foot, glaring at his little sister poisonously. She shut his bedroom door behind her as she swanned out of the room, unperturbed as always, and despite his earlier grumpiness he couldn't help a small grin breaking out on his face, pulling off his pajamas and quickly getting changed, thinking of the day ahead.
Being back home had been bittersweet. He had arrived that first day, overwhelmed by the sameness of it all – physically, almost nothing had changed. The photos on the wall were the same. The smell in the kitchen was the same. Yuzu had moved out of his room to share with Karin like they had before he left, and when he lay in his old bed, staring at the ceiling, it was almost like an out-of-body experience. Everything was the same, yet everything had changed.
Instead of leaving for school in the morning, he left for the part-time job he had seen advertised in the newspaper, which he read voraciously every morning as soon as it was delivered. Isshin had commented on his newfound interest in current events but Ichigo had ignored him, scanning every article for familiar names or faces. He had brought everything Nell had found and given to him – it had been in his checked luggage, which had been late and almost caused him a heart attack in the process, but as soon as it arrived he filed all of it away in the bookcase in his room, adding to it the notes he had taken himself. He did his research in the evening, when he had free time; during the day, his work occupied him and kept him active, preventing him from going crazy from overthinking.
As soon as he had breakfast he set out for the office, wondering what kind of ridiculous errands he would be forced to perform that day. Officially, he was nothing more than a delivery-boy, but some of the things he had been forced to do in the name of work still made him shudder. The light construction work and DIY jobs had been interesting, if unexpected, but the massages and delivering of love letters (and breakup letters, for the old-fashioned romantics who were still cowards) he could live without. Those were the bad days. Hopefully, today would be a good one.
However, as soon as he walked through the door, he knew it wouldn't be.
Kugo Ginjou was sitting on the couch in the waiting room, legs resting on the table and looking like he didn't have a care in the world. As soon as he saw Ichigo a smiled cracked across his face, oily like his slicked back hair, and he stood up in one fluid movement.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite little berry." Dark eyes raked over Ichigo, glinting.
Ichigo's hands balled into fists. "Don't say that again unless you want me to knock you out. My name does not mean that."
Ginjou faked surprise, hand on his chin. "No way! I had no idea. But...hmm...seems like only yesterday we were having a conversation about how I could call you whatever I wanted, since you owe me a pretty big favor. Oh wait! It was yesterday. Looks like my guy is better than you thought."
"I'm at work. Save it for afterwards," Ichigo hissed, fighting the urge to grab whatever Ginjou had rustled up and run home as fast as he could. After all, he still had money to earn.
"If you want," Ginjou said, shrugging. He plopped back onto the sofa and patted the briefcase next to him. "Guess I'll just wait here with all of this juicy info 'till you're finished then."
Ichigo pressed his lips together in anger, desperately trying to smother the urge to strangle the other man, and made a beeline for the office, raising a hand to open the door; before he could it swung wide open and he was greeted by the sight of his boss, glaring at him furiously.
"Ichigo, there you are! Took your lazy ass long enough!"
She grabbed a large cardboard box lying on the floor and thrust it into his arms, almost knocking the wind out of him. He sighed in irritation. First Ginjou, now this. No, this wasn't going to be a good day.
"Get this delivered now," Unagiya Ikumi ordered, eyes blazing, "it was supposed to arrive at nine and it's already late! Any later and I won't be able to live it down!"
"I start at nine, why couldn't you deliver this?"
"Impertinent brat, who's the employee and who's the boss here? If it's not delivered by nine thirty, trust me, I will know! So move it!" She spun him around and kicked him hard in the small of his back. Ichigo stumbled forward several feet and almost crashed into the door. He heard a low laugh come from the sofa and grit his teeth. Cursing, he let himself out and closed the door behind him none too gently. Then he checked the delivery address for the package: it was for a part of town he was unfamiliar with, and he had ten minutes to find it.
"Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath. "Ugh, if I had even a freaking high school diploma I could get a normal job, wouldn't have to deal with all of this crap..."
Thankfully, whatever was inside the box wasn't heavy. He hefted it up onto his shoulder and jogged halfway there, before the burning in his lungs forced him to slow down, panting. Despite having given up smoking, it seemed the effects were still making themselves known, and he cursed himself for ever having started. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck. It was already warm outside; there were no clouds and the sun beat down on him relentlessly. Shifting the box from one shoulder to another as they started to ache from the weight, he checked his phone to make sure he was going the right way, having to double back several times due to the winding, confusing streets. All the while he wondered how Ikumi would, in fact, know whether he would be late or not, or if she had just been trying to psych him out.
"Where is this freaking place?" He squinted, looking around him. It didn't help that none of the streets had names. He checked his phone again. "Oh, right behind me."
Ichigo turned and stared. It reminded him of a house a horror movie might take place in. The outside was dilapidated, weeds overgrown in the garden, dust and dirt caked upon almost every visible surface. The place looked completely abandoned. Did anyone even live here? Surely he had been mistaken.
He checked again. It was the right address. Walking to the front door cautiously, he raised a fist and knocked. The doorbell was broken, covered in cobwebs.
There was the sound of thundering footsteps and the door was wrenched open. Ichigo was greeted by a snarling voice and eyes he thought he would never see again.
"Fucking finally, this was supposed to be here by nine you incompetent asshole-"
The world stopped.
There was nothing but a deafening ringing noise reverberating in his head, drowning out everything else. Ichigo opened and shut his mouth.
"You..."
His fingers had gone numb. The box slipped, crashed to the ground, and he almost followed it.
That's it. That's it. I've finally lost it. I've snapped, I've gone crazy.
This face.
He knew this face.
He had dreamed of this face for the last five years.
And now, here it was again, accompanied by a whole, apparently living, breathing body.
Maybe he had a fever. Maybe he had died without knowing and he was a ghost as well, a ghost delivering a ghost package to another ghost. A walking dead man.
Ichigo found he couldn't breathe. Perhaps because it was he was dead, like the man in front of him.
The man in front of him, who was wearing the same suit Ichigo had seen out of the corner of his eye only the day before, made of cheap shiny fabric. The blue hair was much shorter than he remembered, cropped down close to the scalp in a severe buzz-cut. But those eyes...he would never be able to forget them.
Now, they were staring at him in shock, wide, as bright and clear as the cloudless sky above them.
"Grimmjow...?"
