I do not own Bleach.

Notes on the Unagiya thing - it's a play on words in Japanese. Unagiya is Ikumi's family name but in Japanese 'unagi' means eel, 'ya' means shop, so if you say unagi-ya Japanese people will mostly likely first think of an eel shop.


In the space of a millisecond, a thousand fragmented thoughts surged through his mind before it shut down.

This can't be happening-

Of all the people in this fucking town, it has to be him-

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck-

Time had stopped. The sun shone into brown eyes and turned them molten amber. His breath was stuck in his lungs, and Grimmjow could hear nothing but the beat of his own heart thundering through his head, blocking out everything else. The liquid slosh of blood running through his veins felt like white water crashing over rocks.

For too long, both of them were frozen in place.

It felt like they had been staring at each other for years, decades, but surely it could only have been seconds. Ichigo's whole face was slack, his eyes wide, mouth hanging open. The cardboard box he held in his hands had slipped, fell to the ground, and it seemed like he might do the same.

Suddenly, the buzz of a motorcyle whizzing past popped the fragile bubble of shock surrounding them and Grimmjow came to his senses. Scooping up the box from where it had fallen with one hand, with the other he grabbed Ichigo's collar and hauled him inside. The other man complied without a word, stumbling inside, silent even when Grimmjow hissed out an angry, anxious breath as he scanned the outside through a crack in the door before slamming it shut.

When he turned to Ichigo he was met with a flinch and a step back.

"I'm dreaming," he heard Ichigo say, but the words sounded like they came from a great distance. "I must be dreaming. This is a dream."

"Do I need to sign for this?" Grimmjow asked, gesturing to the box he had set on the floor.

Ichigo shook his head. "Snap out of it. Wake up." He started pinching himself. "Ow."

"Stop that," he growled, and grabbed Ichigo's arm. Again, all he got in response was a flinch. The other man tore himself away, moving back from Grimmjow to plaster himself against the wall behind him, brown eyes wider than he had ever seen them. They reminded him of the big tear-filled doe eyes Ichigo used to look at him with when they had been children, and the thought made something inside him tremble.

"What the hell is this?" Ichigo whispered. "What the hell is going on? Are you real? Are you Grimmjow? But you can't be, he's dead. He died. Who are you?"

Grimmjow said nothing. He could think of nothing to say – what could possibly explain the situation they were in now? How could he ever tell Ichigo what had happened to him all those years ago, how he had lived since, what he was doing now?

It was far too dangerous, and too late he realized how idiotic he had been. He should have grabbed the box and shut the door as soon as he had seen that orange hair, but something had stopped him-

Ichigo's harsh breaths filled the air. Grimmjow watched, silent, as the blank shock in those brown eyes seeped away to be replaced with something he was much more used to, something that made him ache inside out with nostalgia. The orange haired man was still shaking, but now it was with fierce anger - in a heartbeat a scowl painted his face with dark, deep lines and Grimmjow felt himself being slammed up against the wall, hands fisted in his shirt as they pushed hard into his throat.

"I asked you a question, answer me! Who are you?"

He swallowed thickly. Was it normal to be this turned on by violence? But he couldn't help it. Ichigo had always looked too damn good when he was angry. He was almost majestic in his fury. Every muscle in his body was taut, ready to snap, his knuckles white as he almost strangled Grimmjow, pushing harder and harder.

"Answer me, dammit! Is this a trick? Is this some kind of sick game? A prank? Who put you up to this? Was it Ginjou? I swear to God I will kill that sonofabitch-"

"This ain't no game, Kurosaki," Grimmjow said at last, "now put your fucking hands down before you kill me. Since, as you can see, I ain't dead yet."

At the sound of his voice the blood drained from Ichigo's face and he let go, stepping backwards.

"I don't...what is this? Are you Grimmjow? But you can't be Grimmjow, he's fucking dead-"

"Don't be so sure about that."

Even the air between them was stretched tight, ready to snap. For a long while they stared at each other, Grimmjow's blue gaze cold and unconcerned, Ichigo's travelling from head to toe, scanning every detail. His expression was now equal parts shock, anger and confusion. He was blinking rapidly, shaking his head as if to clear his vision.

"This is impossible...are you...? Are you a zombie? A ghost or something?"

"Don't be stupid," he scoffed. He grabbed one of Ichigo's hands and pressed it to his chest, over his heart. "Feel that? Don't think ghosts have that, do they?"

The heat of Ichigo's skin sank into his own. He'd always had cold hands, but Ichigo's long, slim fingers were warm and firm against him, and the memory of them running through his hair, brushing against his skin, sent a wave of heat through his body. The orange-haired man was staring up at him with wide eyes he had dreamed of countless times. His skin was paler than he remembered, almost a delicate porcelain white, but the shadow of those beloved freckles remained scattered over the bridge of his nose. His breath was still coming out in short, labored pants; Grimmjow had a sudden vision of the last time he had heard Ichigo breathe like that, his face flushed, brown darkening to black with lust, head tossed back and moans muffled with a fist.

Around Ichigo's hand, his fingers tightened. It was too late now. What was done was done; even if Grimmjow threw him out onto the street now, who knew who would be watching and waiting. That orange hair could not be easily forgotten. He had thought that Ichigo would remain in Germany with Abarai Renji, but clearly he had been mistaken and now the idiot was here, here in Karakura, here in this godforsaken house with a man who was still supposed to be dead.

"What are you even doing here?" he asked.

Ichigo gawped. "What am I doing here? This is my hometown, you ass! I should be asking you what the fuck you're doing here! If you're really even Grimmjow and not some sort of sick imposter-"

He cut short suddenly, eyes narrowing. Pulling his hands free he grabbed the sleeves of Grimmjow's suit jacket and pulled them up roughly, doing the same with the shirt underneath.

At the sight of old, faded scars Ichigo's breath caught.

He stared, and stared, and stared.

And then he started to shake.

Grimmjow could smell him, he was that close. Fingers skimmed over the sensitive skin of the inside of his elbows and he shivered.

"You..." His Adam's apple bobbed as Ichigo swallowed, his voice thin and choked-up. He looked Grimmjow in the eye, expression strangled with disbelief. "Grimmjow...it's really...it's you?"

He shrugged. His gut was roiling, "That's what I've been telling you, but you ain't been listening. Some things don't change, I guess."

The pads of Ichigo's thumbs were still stroking his skin gently. It sent electric waves through his whole body. They had barely been together five minutes and already the orange-haired idiot was driving him crazy, but Grimmjow looked into those deep brown eyes that were now beginning to study him carefully. The numbing shock seemed to be wearing off; all he saw was a rising calculation.

"This has something to do with Aizen Sousuke, doesn't it?"

Hearing those words come out of Ichigo's mouth, he lost his cool and gaped for half a second before recovering himself. "How the fuck do you know about him?"

"As far as I remember, all you did was complain about him constantly. How could I not know about him?"

"Don't give me that bullshit! You didn't even remember his name the last time we...were together..."

At the memory of that night, the last time he had really been Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, they both fell silent. Ichigo's mouth was twisted, and for a second his face was shadowed with agony, but it passed as quickly as it came. The hands clutching Grimmjow's arms tightened.

"Tell me it's you." The words came out a half-whispered plea. "Tell me it's really you. Tell me I'm not imagining things."

"You're not imagining this," said Grimmjow, his voice rumbling lowly, "it's me. I'm still alive, and yes, this has to do with Aizen."

Ichigo nodded. He seemed to want to say something, but he swallowed his words. His frown had taken on a tortured slant. His hands slid up Grimmjow's arms, slow and sweet, resting on his shoulders, tracing the lines of his neck until they reached his face and Grimmjow closed his eyes as he felt Ichigo's fingers pass over his jaw, his cheekbones, his nose, the ridge of his brow. Thumbs re-traced long forgotten paths over his lips and he couldn't help the sharp inhale that invaded his lungs. He felt the other man move closer, closer, closer.

All of a sudden, arms were surrounding him. He was crushed by the weight of Ichigo pressed against him hard, and a nose was buried in the crook of his neck.

"You smell the same as you did before," he heard Ichigo say. Sobs seemed to be crackling in his chest, clawing their way up his throat.

There were lips against Grimmjow's neck, right against where his pulse beat madly. Heat suffused his whole body, pooling in his stomach, his heart was racing again and this time for an entirely different reason.

"So do you," he whispered. The smell of fruity shampoo, a familiar scent that had him aching in ways he thought he had forgotten, filled his nostrils as he pressed his nose against orange hair.

"It's really you."

"Yeah."

"You're really alive. This isn't a dream. I'm not imagining this."

"I'm as alive as you are."

Ichigo made a noise, halfway between a sob and a laugh. He felt the same, yet different than before: his body was no longer that of a lanky, awkward teenage boy but of a man. His shoulders felt broader, his chest thicker, Grimmjow could feel hot muscle and power in the strength of the arms around him, and it felt so familiar and so good. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. So many years, so many things had changed, yet being in the presence of this man still felt like coming home.

They hadn't moved from the front door. There were the sounds of faraway traffic bleeding into the warm silence that cocooned them thickly, two hearts beating together in sync like they hadn't done in years, and Grimmjow knew in a distant faraway part of his mind that meeting like this, no matter how coincidental, could have been one of the most stupid, reckless things he had ever done – but the deep, wracked breaths puffed out against his skin, the desperate feel of Ichigo's fingers digging into his flesh, the way that body still fit so perfectly into his, dispelled any doubt that he had done the wrong thing.

All too soon, it was over. Ichigo pulled back and looked at Grimmjow searchingly, eyes narrowing, mouth set in a firm line.

"So. This whole...situation. Obviously, you were never dead. Am I right?"

"Right."

"It was some kind of trick, a ploy, because of this Aizen guy."

He rolled his eyes. "Woulda thought that was obvious."

The words were barely out his mouth before the force of a sucker punch to the gut had him bent double. Bile scorched his throat. He couldn't speak, fell to his knees, vision blurring with tears, and when he looked up Ichigo was staring down at him, hellfire blazing in his eyes.

"That was uncalled for, you piece of shit," Grimmjow spat, when he could finally talk without retching.

"That was for ruining my life," said Ichigo with a dark scowl, crossing his arms. "Clearly you had your reasons for doing what you did, but dammit you could have told me something back then! Anything!"

"And do what, exactly?" he snarled, clutching his stomach. "Do you even know what the hell you're talking about?"

"I do," Ichigo said, holding out a hand and helping Grimmjow to his feet. He was far more calm than Grimmjow would have expected for this kind of situation. A man had risen from the dead, standing in front of the love of his life with new blood in his veins and new breath in his body, but Ichigo had jumped over the shock and the anger like hurdles on a track Grimmjow couldn't see and the orange-haired man was now suddenly cloaked in some kind of serene understanding. It was freaking him out.

"I know what I'm talking about now, Grimmjow," Ichigo said again, looking very serious. "I was blind and deaf and I didn't know anything about anything back then, but things are different now. I know you had your reasons for doing what you did." A pause. "Even if you were a massive asshole, the way you went about it. Don't deny it. You're telling me you faked your death?"

"Tch. What else could I have done?"

At that, Ichigo looked down. "I don't know. But I know that I would have helped you, even if Aizen was after me too."

Blue eyes narrowed. "How much do you know?"

"Quite a lot." A small smile tilted his mouth. "Most of it was Nel, actually. I met up with her recently. But then, you know that, don't you? You were there too. You were that guy staring at me in the cafeteria, in the bar – I gave you my cigarettes, didn't I? That was you."

Grimmjow couldn't deny it. He shrugged. Distantly, he wondered what he would tell to Hirako about this latest development. Doubtless the blond would be furious, but he couldn't bring himself to care, not when Ichigo was still standing so close and looking at him with nothing but that calm little smile on his face.

"Don't you dare run away again," said Ichigo, grabbing Grimmjow's chin and forcing them to face each other. "I'm not letting you go this time. I'm guessing you left because of Aizen, and you came back because of him too, which is a nice coincidence because that's why I'm back as well."

"That's why you're back? Kurosaki, you've lost it. You have no idea what you're doing-"

The shrill ring of a cellphone stopped him short. Ichigo cursed under his breath and fished in his pockets, pulling out his phone and holding it to his ear, flinching when the woman on the other side bellowed so loud Grimmjow could have heard it from upstairs.

"Ichigo! Where the hell are you? Did you get the delivery finished on time?"

"Yeah yeah, it's done-"

"Then why are you dilly-dallying around, you bonehead? If you've got the payment and the signature get back to the shop immediately, I don't pay you to take strolls through the town!"

She hung up and Ichigo sighed, scratching his head.

"Seems like I need to go," he murmured. He glanced up, frowning.

"I ain't going anywhere this time round," Grimmjow said quietly, seeing the unsure look on the other man's face. "I'll be here for...well, as long as I don't get found."

"This time round, I'm helping you."

A scowl. "Kurosaki, stop talking shit. I keep telling you, you don't know what you're dealing with!"

"And I keep telling you I do," Ichigo replied firmly, arms crossed and feet planted on the ground, immovable. "Nothing you say is going to change my mind. I've been doing my research too, Grimmjow. I know what this Aizen Sousuke is capable of. I know what he's done to people, and I know what he's going to do if or when he catches you. And that's the plan, right? You come back to Karakura as your old self, you catch his eye, you draw him out and Shinji and...whoever is helping him out, they do the rest. Does that sound about right?"

The furious set of Grimmjow's jaw, the vein ticking in his forehead, was all the answer Ichigo needed.

"Right. So Shinji is helping you." He sounded triumphant. "Ah, it's all finally coming together."

"Don't you have a job to go to?"

"My job can wait. I can get another job. There's only one Grimmjow Jaegerjaques."

The sound of his name dripping from that mouth, the way the tongue curled around the syllables and slid out from the teeth, had him weak at the knees. Ichigo was looking at him with warm, worshipful brown eyes, looking at him the way no one else could, and Grimmjow knew he had lost.

Once, he had hated those eyes. He had wanted to scratch them out. In them he had seen pity, scorn, contempt; most likely all of that and more had been his imagination, the reflection of the self he thought he saw in everyone else's face – he was trash, he was scum, he was worthless. He had spent his life fighting alone, and he was still fighting, but now it appeared that Kurosaki Ichigo was determined to stand beside him and help.

"Hirako ain't gonna be happy about this," said Grimmjow, eventually.

"He'll just have to deal with it," Ichigo retorted. "I spent too long trying to run away from...what happened to you. I'm not doing it again. I don't care if he doesn't want or need my help, he's getting it."

Grimmjow sneered in an attempt to crush the shit-eating grin that fought to invade his mouth. "Still a stubborn little shit, I see."

"And you're charming as ever."

"Charm ain't something you lose, Kurosaki. Not that you would know."

There was delight dancing in Ichigo's eyes, his mouth twisted in a smirk. "I'm gonna go now, but only because I have to. I'll be back. You better not leave again like you did last time. I'm not as stupid as I was back then, if I lose you this time round, I'll go to the ends of the Earth to find you again. And yeah, that is a threat." He grabbed Grimmjow's collar and pulled him close, voice low and dark. "You hear me?"

"I hear ya," he said, smiling dangerously. His teeth were fangs. His blood was rising. Now this he could work with – he had a feeling him and Ichigo could make a good team. Back to back, guns blazing, a partner in every sense of the word.

"Good." Without warning, Ichigo moved forward and pressed his lips to Grimmjow's. It lasted no more than half a second but then, the Big Bang had happened in less time. Black holes yawned, stars were born, atomic bombs destroyed whole cities in the span of milliseconds, in the time it took for that mouth to open up a flower of pure heat in the pit of Grimmjow's stomach, petals floating instead of bloodcells in his veins, and he swore he was floating.

"Now, you need to pay and sign for this."

A clipboard was thrust into his chest, a pen into his hand. He signed and handed over money without being conscious of it. The world around him was humming. The stupid grin Ichigo was wearing couldn't be dampened. Grimmjow could tell he was trying to smother it, trying to wrestle it with that scowl so as to protect that 'cool' image he liked to present, but neither of them could stop smiling. He knew in Ichigo, just as in himself, there was a big, bright butterfly lazily flapping its wings inside his stomach, every stroke brushing slowly against the length of the inside of his body, fizzing electricity from head to toe, his hair was standing on end, the world could have collapsed around him and he wouldn't have noticed.

Before he left, Ichigo turned to look at him, and the smile slipped somewhat, betraying the undercurrent of urgency that flashed dark in brown eyes. A hand reached out and took hold of Grimmjow's wrist, squeezing.

"Promise me you won't go."

He leveled Ichigo with solemn blue eyes. "I won't go. If I can, I'll be right here."

The hand squeezed harder. "I'm coming back tonight."

"Only fair to warn ya, it's gonna be dangerous. By the time you get here I might have already been kidnapped or something. More likely than you think." He shrugged, casual to hide the squirming cold that was bleeding into happiness that only seconds ago had been bulletproof.

"I know you and Shinji must've had a plan and we've screwed it up already.," said Ichigo gravely, "but then, you two had a plan before and it didn't seem to work out, did it? Maybe this time it will. I know it's going to be dangerous, but I can't let you do this alone again."

He grunted. Things were spiraling beyond his control, already everything Hirako had carefully set into motion was in tatters, but Ichigo had a point. Things hadn't really worked out as well as they had hoped.

"If he takes you, I'll bring you back. No matter what happens." Again, that small smile. "I'm not letting you die again, Grimmjow. So trust me."

The hand slid from his wrist, fingers tangled in his own.

"I'm coming back for you, whether you're here or not. I'll see you again. OK?"

Grimmjow didn't say anything. He didn't want to make a promise he couldn't keep. All he wanted was right there, with one foot already out of the door, looking back at him with one hundred percent trust and belief in those words. He wondered, what was it like to have such faith?

The bright sunlight slanted through the open door, illuminated orange hair and turned it into a halo. He could have drowned in the liquid gold of Ichigo's eyes. There was nothing more he wanted than to just disappear, dive headfirst into the love and the warmth he saw there, but cold reality set his feet in stone as the rest of his body ached to feel that heartbeat against his own once again.

"I'll see you again," he said finally. Whether it's in this life or the next.


Ichigo spent the rest of the day in a daze, lips turning up of their own accord. He couldn't help it and after a while stopped trying to snuff it out, letting a full sunny smile spread across his face. Who cared about his carefully cultivated reputation? Grimmjow was alive. Who cared about what people said? Grimmjow was alive. Who cared about the stares, people crossing the street to avoid him, the whispered comments?

He's alive! He's alive! He's alive, and he's here!

On the inside, he was dancing joyously. It lit up his whole face. He chatted to customers, shrugged off Ikumi's incredulous expression and her comments about concern for his health ("Are you OK? Did you get hit in the head on the way back? Is that why you took so freaking long, you dumdum?") and he even managed to be civil to Ginjou, who looked positively upset at Ichigo's unusually glorious mood.

"What's up with you?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. Ichigo had finished for the day and was back at the store, showered and changed into normal clothes. He was impatient, feet itching to run back to that dilapidated house and burst through the door and -

And do what?

Perhaps there were people watching that house. Perhaps Aizen already knew Grimmjow was there, had him under surveillance, had seen Ichigo go inside with Grimmjow himself. Maybe they were just waiting for a night like this one, to quietly invade, hold a gun to Grimmjow's head and take him who knew where. The danger of the situation seemed to finally sink in as Ichigo mulled it over, tying his shoelaces at the door while Ginjou hovered, arms crossed, feet tapping a staccato rhythm against the floor.

"Oi, answer my question!"

"Shut up," Ichigo said through gritted teeth. His stomach was twisting uncomfortably – he needed to contact Shinji, Ginjou would be expecting some sort of 'payment' for this favor and God only knew what that sick mind would come up with, he couldn't be late for dinner since Yuzu was making his favorite curry, but Grimmjow, Grimmjow was all he could think of, that long-lost face clouding his vision until everything was painted in shades of blue.

There was no way he would let Grimmjow face Aizen alone.

Surprise, shock, disbelief had given way to crazed adrenaline. He wanted to jump, scream, shout, run a thousand miles until he collapsed, grinning madly, yelling to the heavens.

He's alive, he's alive, he's alive, he's alive!

"If you're both done here, why don't you head home!" Ikumi yelled from her office, interrupting his thoughts. She glowered at Ginjou. "And you...this isn't some sort of social club! Ichigo, next time you have friends over, tell them they'll be paying their way for any sort of social call. This lazy ass...all he did was sit and read dirty manga all day! I have a son, you know! He's too young and innocent to be exposed to creeps like you!"

Ginjou shrugged, smirking. "I was waiting for the eel, but I never got any. The name of this place is pretty misleading. Maybe I should sue for false advertising."

"This is not an eel shop!"

"Then change the name," Ichigo muttered, rising to his feet. "All right, I'm heading off. See you tomorrow."

"I am not changing anything! The name Unagiya has been passed down the line of my ancestors from time immemorial-"

"Yeah yeah, whatever. See you. Let's go, Ginjou."

"Thought you would never ask." That familiar sleazy smile sent shivers down Ichigo's spine.

Outside, it was cooler than it had been earlier and the air pressed down on him heavily, a portent of the rain he so hated. He and Ginjou walked side by side, Ichigo sidling away every time the other man tried to press against him.

"So I know you're always over the moon to see me and stuff, but now you're just downright being weird. What's up with that look on your face?"

Faced with Ginjou's insistent questions and the leer on his face, it wasn't too difficult for Ichigo to shift from a smile to a frown. "I'm just...glad you came through on your promise, that's all."

"Oh? Must be some pretty important stuff I've got here. I guess it'll have to come with a pretty high price then, right?"

"Depends on what you want," said Ichigo flatly, repressing his revulsion at the hungry look in Ginjou's dark eyes.

"I think you know what I want."

"I am not whoring myself out to you. Actually, now that I think about it, I don't owe you shit. I asked your friend to do me a favor, not you. You probably didn't even do anything."

"A small technicality."

"Whatever. Just give me what you – he – found and we'll work this out later, I have a busy night." Ichigo held out his hand for the bag Ginjou was holding, his tone brooking no argument.

"You're so cute when you're mad."

"I swear to God I will punch your liver right out your body if you don't-"

"Aw, how can I say no to that angry little face?" he cooed. "All right then Ichigo, here you go. Careful, it's heavy."

Ichigo rolled his eyes and took the bag, slinging one strap over his shoulder and making to leave. A hand on his hip stopped him, and he turned only to meet the feel of Ginjou's mouth diving to his own, a slick tongue tracing the line between his lips, fingers on his chin in a bruising grip.

He pulled back, revolted. "Dude, we're in public!"

"I thought that was the kinda stuff that got you off," sneered Ginjou. "Don't worry, you said you have a busy night so I'll leave you alone...for now. But trust me when I say I won't forget about this."

In those words there was no love or care, only the threat of a debt uncollected. Ichigo had thought he'd been an idiot to trust Kugo Ginjou – now he knew he was.

But right now, there were more important things to attend to.

"OK, fine, do whatever you want. Tell your friend thanks for his help." Before Ginjou could harass him any more Ichigo turned on his heel and quickly walked away, trying his best not to break into a run, but as soon as he turned the corner the excitement that had been welling up inside him since that morning made a geyser of his legs and before he knew it he was sprinting home, that irrepressible Cheshire cat smile surfacing once more.

A rumble of thunder was the only warning he got before he felt a sprinkle of rain that turned into a torrent in the amount of time it took for a fork of lightning to split the sky. The baked ground beneath him steamed as rain lashed down. His running feet splashed through puddles. The bag slung over his shoulder was heavy, but he barely felt it. He was floating. He was a lotus on the surface of a pond, a leaf being swept down a serene river, he was the wind that flung up kites high into the sky, he was electricity personified.

The route home led him to the canal, its banks spread with bright green grass, the same area where his mother had died. After her death he had spent days walking up and down the road next to where she had fallen while protecting him, looking, searching, taking breaks every so often when his legs had tired. Years later he had passed lazy hours in almost the same spot, hands folded behind his head with someone else beside him, whiling away the time talking nonsense. What animal they would be. Why Ichigo had worn high heels to school ("I might have lost a bet, OK? Anyway, don't tell me my legs didn't look damn good."). Their hopes, their dreams, their fears, they had all found voice and wings next to this river.

They had almost kissed here.

He's alive.

Ichigo couldn't stop running.

He couldn't stop laughing.

His legs pumped like he was running track in high school again. He could feel his heartbeat in every cell. Rain soaked his hair to its roots, dripped from his nose, saturated his eyelashes until his vision was blurred. His teeth flashed white in the darkness and he was breathless, on fire, a laugh breaking free from the bonds of his chest, again and again until he was bent double panting, hands on his knees, laughing and laughing and laughing.

Thunder shook the air. He whooped and shouted.

"He's fucking alive!"

Ichigo screamed it to the sky, over and over again. He didn't care if anyone could hear him. He closed his eyes, felt the rain beat down on him, the rain he had hated since it had washed his mother's blood onto his face, and felt nothing but joy.

When he arrived home he squeezed his sisters into a bone-crushing hug, cheerfully avoided his father's welcome-home attack, wolfed down the extra-hot curry Yuzu had made especially for him and washed the dishes despite her insistence that he dry himself off before he caught a cold. Ichigo wasn't even aware of the freezing rain dripping down his back, his white-tipped fingers, of being soaked to the bone. His feet felt like they were walking several inches above the ground.

After dinner he excused himself to his room and carelessly flung all he could into a small rolling suitcase, papers and notes flying everywhere, humming while he worked. He took the briefcase Ginjou had given him too, and before he called a taxi to take him back to that house he took out his phone and found the number Shinji had given him during his visit the previous day.

"Hello?"

"Shinji, it's Ichigo."

"Oh hey, what's up-"

"I saw Grimmjow today." Even saying the words had a grin breaking out on his face.

Silence.

"Before you get mad – even though you probably are – it was a complete accident, OK? I was just delivering something to the house he's, um, well I guess he must be hiding out there or something? And he answered the door. That's it. Really. But I'm guessing you wanted to keep this all a secret. Don't worry, I won't ruin it for you. I just wanted to let you know that I know."

"Are you two," whispered Shinji from the other side, "tryin' to kill me?"

"I said it was an accident!"

"The way you an' him just do whatever the fuck you want, I'm gonna lose all this luscious hair before the week is out!"

"I said, I won't ruin it for you," Ichigo said urgently. "I'm on your side, idiot! Like I said, I want to help, and you're not going to stop me. He's alive and this time I'm going to make sure he stays that way."

"So yer not on our side, yer on his side."

"What's the difference? Anyway, it doesn't matter. You and him had a plan before and it didn't work out, maybe this time if I get involved it will."

"Or maybe it'll all blow up in our faces and turn into a complete disaster! Oh wait, it already has."

"Right! I'm already involved. I can't unknow what I already know." A pause. "I'm going to see him now."

"Now you've gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me! Where do you think he lives, a fuckin' train station? You can't just come and go as you want!"

"Isn't it just more suspicious if he doesn't have visitors? Shinji, I'm helping him out. Now this isn't just about revenge. Last time you tried to keep me and him safe, but he had to...well, he had to leave everything behind, and I had to leave the freaking country! This time I'm on your side, I'm an asset-"

"You think that house ain't being watched every second of every day?" yelled Shinji.

"I'll go in disguise."

"Disguise! I'll go in disguise, he says, like it's so fuckin' easy-"

"Shinji, I'm leaving now. You know where I'll be. Hopefully nothing goes wrong but if anything happens to me..." At the thought, Ichigo deflated slightly. If something did happen to him, what would become of his family?

"Ichigo, if you get involved in this, it ain't just yer head on the block. Yer sisters, yer dad, yer friends...they're all gonna become targets." Shinji's voice was deadly serious. "Think about this!"

Ichigo closed his eyes. "Until this morning I thought he was dead and I went through hell for the last five years because of it. I just want to see him once. Just once. I want to help him, Shinji, like you both tried to help me. Please. Just let me have this one night."

"If I tell you no, would that stop you?"

"No, it wouldn't." Ichigo licked his dry lips. "If anything does happen to me, just make sure my sisters don't get hurt. My old man can take care of himself. I know it's a lot to ask, I owe you so much already-"

"Enough, Ichigo." He sounded weary. "If yer gonna go, just go. But if you do, I can't promise yer safety."

"My safety isn't the problem here. Just promise you'll keep my sisters safe."

The silence on the other end was heavy. Then, "I promise."

He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Thank you."

"When you get there, call me again."

"Deal."

"All right. Take care, you stupid stubborn dumbass. God. Yer the worst, y'know that?"

"Thanks Shinji. Talk to you later, hopefully."

By the time he hung up, Ichigo's earlier ebullience was edged with lead; he had been too overcome to really think clearly about what he was doing. Now his feet were firmly back on the ground. He felt the icy fingers of dread tracing over his ribs, the outline of his heart. At the thought of his sisters facing what he might face, Ichigo's strength almost failed him but his gut urged him to get to his feet, to face the danger. He had spent too long running, and now it was time to fight.

Of his own accord, Grimmjow would have rather died than ask Ichigo for help. He had already done it once. Ichigo was determined it wouldn't happen again.

Downstairs, his family was gathered around the TV. He sighed when he saw it was his least favorite program, cringed when he heard Don Kanonji's distinctive, grating laugh, resisted the urge to turn and walk right out the room.

"Ichi-nii! Where are you going?" Too late – Yuzu had seen him, with his overstuffed suitcase, waiting at the door.

He hesitated. "I'm, uh, going away for a day or two. Maybe more. I'm not sure actually. It's for work. Some kind of training course."

"Liar." Karin stood up, came and poked him in the chest. "This isn't for work. Don't keep secrets from us."

Dammit, not even two seconds and my cover's blown. Think, Ichigo, think!

He hung his head. "OK. It's not work. But...it's complicated. I'm doing a favor for a friend, but I can't tell anyone about it."

"Ichigo?" Now even his father was staring at him, concerned. Wonderful. "What is this about?"

"I can't tell you," Ichigo said, frowning so hard it was almost painful. "Trust me, I want to. But it's not my secret to tell. I just...I just owe something to someone, and now I have to help them out. But it might take a while. It might be kind of dangerous. I'm just leaving tonight, hopefully I'll be back by tomorrow, but if I'm not..."

All three of them said not a word. The silence was oppressive. Don Kanonji laughed again, but this time no one joined in.

"You're not making any sense," said Karin.

"I know. I'm sorry. But someone needs my help, so I have to leave for a while. That's basically it."

"Will you be OK?" Yuzu asked, brow creasing in concern. "You said it might be dangerous. Will you really be back tomorrow?"

"I don't know. I'll try my best. But things might work out differently. I just wanted to let you guys know so you don't worry."

"You always have to be such a fucking hero," Karin blurted out angrily.

"Karin, don't swear!"

She didn't answer, just averted her gaze to burn a hole in the wall. Yuzu wrung her hands. Isshin, surprisingly, seemed the calmest.

"Dad?" Ichigo looked at his father, trying to convey the gravity of the situation with his gaze. "It's probably nothing, but just...take care of them."

"Of course I will! Who do you think I am?" Isshin boomed. "But Ichigo, my darling son, fruit of my virile loins...who will take care of you?"

"I don't need anyone to take of me right now. There are more important things to worry about." He chewed on the inside of his mouth, hastened a glance at his family gathered there in front of him. They would be fine, they would be safe – they had each other. Grimmjow, on the other hand...

"I need to go," he said quickly. "They're waiting for me. I called a cab, it should be here soon."

Yuzu flung herself into his arms. "Take care, big brother! I'll be thinking of you!"

"Don't do anything stupid," Karin grouched, punching him lightly on the arm, "although I know that's how you like to live your life."

Ichigo smiled. Ducking to deflect his father's 'heartfelt farewell attack' he gathered his bags after saying his goodbyes and walked out the front door. The taxi was waiting outside and before he lost his nerve he threw his luggage into the trunk and slid inside, his palms sweating. All of these impetuous decisions he had been making lately made him feel like his reckless teenage self again, made him feel alive again.

Grimmjow had returned and with him, it seemed, so had Ichigo.

As the car slid away slowly from the house, he turned in his seat, eyes traveling over the illuminated sign of the Kurosaki Clinic, the home he had lived in all his life. He saw his sisters and his father gathered at the door waving goodbye and he waved back.

Then the car turned a corner and in the blink of an eye, they were gone.