chapter three: staring at the sun
"You're so beautiful when you hate the world." ~ Zuko
Darkness greeted Ichigo when he awoke several hours later.
At first he couldn't remember anything, or at least none of the events of the past two days, and for a few peaceful seconds he believed he was lying in bed in his palatial home in the Northern Water Tribe. Then he felt the cold metal cinched around his wrists and in a single instant, reality crashed into him with all the unforgiving force of tsunami waves, pulling him into an undertow of grief and drowning him in his own despair. He unwillingly cried out, an agonized bay of sorrow, but managed to muffle the sound by burying his face into the pillow.
Deep down he'd always known this day would come and yet never wanted to admit it to himself, never wanted to accept the painful truth of his sister's destiny.
However, when the full moon's glow turned blood red he no longer had a choice.
Ichigo knew he'd never felt more terrified than he had those excruciatingly long minutes he spent racing against time to get to the Spirit Oasis. And the fact that a dangerous, probably mentally unstable firebender was surely hot on his heels hadn't crossed his mind once. He hadn't even stopped when the phenomenal embodiment of La had risen from the city's peak and began to descend. Somehow the prince's subconscious had known the ocean spirit meant him no harm, not when they shared a spiritual connection galaxies more powerful than the average waterbender. It had seemed as if the spirit's appearance actually strengthened his resolve as well as his physical body and every fiber of his being had burned with the need to find his sister before the inevitable.
And still, he failed, Fate praying her cruelest trick. Ichigo remembered the disbelief and loss and anguish that wracked his body as he finally made it to the Spirit Oasis to witness the moon's glorious return home to its starry throne in the midnight sky.
The sensation of an emptiness in his soul from losing his bending was only replaced by a tight, breathless ache and he'd fallen to his knees in the snow, a tortured whisper leaving his lips the last thing he can recall before a brief pain in his neck and the world disappearing into a black abyss.
His face still hidden in the pillow, Ichigo's throat constricted and he screwed his eyes shut against the moist stinging that followed. His mind was helplessly consumed by an onslaught of thoughts, a poisonous brew of guilt and anger and pure misery.
You should have helped her.
You should have saved her.
You should have protected her.
You are why your father weeps for another lost love.
You are why you will never see her again.
You are why your beautiful, kind, innocent sister can never live the full life she deserved.
You are why she is dead.
Despite his efforts, a tear escaped the corner of his eye and trailed down his cheek. Ichigo turned over onto his back, staring unseeingly into the pitch black atmosphere of wherever he was and attempting to take deep breaths and compose himself. He was a grown man, he didn't cry.
After a minute or two, the orangette's breathing evened out and the blurriness of tears receded from his vision, the unadulterated heartache he hadn't experienced since his adoptive mother's death remaining, too potent to control. Nevertheless, Ichigo felt a surge of new emotions flow into the ones already inside him. After all, only a big brother could feel so sad and yet so proud.
The moon had given Princess Yue life and she had given it back. His younger sister had made the greatest sacrifice in order to restore balance to all four nations. Not even a bender herself, she was the reason why his and every other waterbender's abilities were revived, giving him back a part of his soul without which he couldn't live. Singlehandedly, Yue had saved the world.
Though Ichigo would miss her, his sibling and best friend, terribly he knew one day he would be able to look up at the lunar orb of radiant luminescence and just feel honored to be the brother to the girl who became the moon.
Unfortunately, that was only the half of it, for the Tribal Prince had something else troubling him and that was where in the name of the Great Spirits was he. Clearly he'd been captured and taken prisoner, most likely at the hands of that blue-haired firebender who'd challenged him to a fight to the finish and then possibly chased him through the labyrinth of city streets after the moon darkened and Ichigo fled, but to where? Who knew how long the teenager had been unconscious; he could very well be on the other side of the world.
Calming his quickened heartbeat, Ichigo decided to use his blindness to his advantage and put his heightened sense of hearing to work. As he listened for the slightest noise that may give him a clue as to his location, the waterbender just found silence. Luckily, he didn't even need a sound to decipher where he'd been taken, feeling the bed and the floor underneath him gently rock and sway in an undoubtedly boat-like fashion.
So, his captor had brought him aboard one of the Fire Nation's many warships - not very surprising. What was a little startling was that Ichigo could clearly tell he was laying on a bed, the mattress plush and bedding silken enough to blatantly advertise it was no uncomfortable pallet made of straw customary for a prisoner of war but rather an expensive resting place fit for the commander of this vessel. It immediately set the prince on edge, suspicions rising at the oddity of the situation. Why hadn't the Fire Nation scum thrown him into a cold metal cell to rot?
Ichigo didn't have much time to mull over the possible explanations because a moment later the creak of an opening door and a subsequent bright light that hurt his eyes jarred him from his thoughts. Blinking rapidly, the boy instantly rose to a sitting position. Once his sight cleared and returned to normal, he could make out the figure, then the features, and finally the identity of the one entering the room. His heart jumped into his throat and his stomach clenched, eyes widening and mouth parting.
He was clueless as to why he had such a visceral reaction when he'd been expecting for this exactly to happen. He wasn't skittish or easily flustered, his obstinate nature only refined by his royal upbringing and years of being groomed to secede his father as Tribal Chief, so it was completely alien and downright confusing for him to act this way and Ichigo hated it - almost as much as he hated the despicable (but undeniably magnificent) man standing in the doorway.
The orangette's challenger dazzled him even more now that he was dressed in a Fire Nation commanding officer's uniform, the dark grays, reds, and gold of the armor and fabric a visually stunning contrast to the man's electric porcelain blue mess of hair and the cyan orbs brilliant and swirling with a controlled chaos that were his eyes. His smug, predatory smile flashed a glimpse of blindingly white teeth, canines sharper and more pointed than a human's should be. Before Ichigo could stop himself, he mused that the other man was the perfect illustration of beauty and brutality, the love child of the spirits of love and war and every bit as savage and lovely.
"Good morning, Your Highness. Sleep well?"
And thoroughly and utterly infuriating.
When Grimmjow rose the morning after the failed siege of the Northern Water Tribe, he did so with a wide grin and a spring in his step. For the first time in months, he had something exciting to look forward to that day on his very own ship.
Something he'd worked hard to get after risking life and limb infiltrating the tribe's defensive forces and then the city itself, seeking out the fight of his life after which he hunted down and escaped with his bounty, borrowing an abandoned rowboat whose owner he mentally noted to repay the debt and making his way back to his ship unnoticed.
However, securing his prize within his own quarters was all he'd been allowed before the blunette was bombarded by commanders and captains asking for orders on what they should do next. Somehow Zhao had gotten himself killed, a fact Grimmjow took great amusement in, and that left the sole Admiral among the fleet of ships as the voice of authority. It had taken almost all night for him to sort out the mess the power-hungry imbecile left him with, the admiral finally retiring two hours 'till dawn in a lieutenant's now former bedroom.
And now Grimmjow stood ten feet away from his prisoner, the young man scowling at him atop his own bed, the expression a great source of pleasure to him; it meant the orange-haired royal hadn't lost his will and wouldn't do so anytime soon. The firebender would've been very disappointed if Prince Ichigo had given up and subsequently let the fight in him drain away. To himself Grimmjow would admit that look of stubborn and determination in those dark amber eyes stirred something inside of him he hadn't known was there and staring into them was like standing on the edge of a cliff, the wind ruffling his hair, or hanging onto the railing for dear life on the deck of his ship during a tempestuous storm, turrets of rain soaking him to the bone, monstrous waves beating against the hull without mercy, and bolts of crackling lightning striking so dangerously close to him he could smell the electricity - a thrilling adrenaline rush mixed with a foreign, nameless sensation similar to pleasure and even fondness but at the same time not.
It was incredible.
"Where am I?" Ichigo demanded in a quiet voice laced with a threatening undertone. Grimmjow clicked his tongue disapprovingly, shutting the door closed behind him and taking a few steps forward to stand right at the foot of the bed. It was pitch black again until he whipped his arm out to the side, two fingers extended from the rest as he shot small jets of fire where he'd memorized the several candles in his quarters to be. The wicks caught aflame, illuminating the metal-walled room and revealing its contents: a bed covered in crimson and gold bedding, a wooden desk covered in parchment and scrolls, a carmine mat for meditation laying on the floor, a wardrobe whose open doors displayed the admiral's clothes, formal, nonformal, and pieces of armor, and finally a tapestry bearing the Fire Nation's black flame symbol opposite the bed.
"Did we forget our manners? I would've thought a prince such as yourself knew better than to be impolite to your betters," Grimmjow said, clasping his hands behind him and leaning forward a bit over the orangette, quirking a brow.
"Of course I do," Ichigo said through gritted teeth, never betraying a bit of weakness by not moving an inch away from the other man. "When I see any, I'll be sure to be on my best behavior."
Grimmjow's grin widened and he straightened up, walking around the bed and closer to his prisoner. "I just realized we haven't been properly acquainted, Your Highness."
"You already know who I am," Ichigo scoffed.
"Yes, but I haven't returned the favor; a little rude considering you're currently in my bed, don't you think?" Grimmjow drawled, delighting in the faint blush that tinted the waterbender's flawless tawny skin and how his fierce scowl deepened creating the most adorable expression he'd seen yet. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Grimmjow, Admiral to the Fire Nation's Southern Fleet and your gracious host during your time aboard my ship."
Ichigo's face paled a little, the revelation of his captor's status as one of the four men holding the highest and most prestigious title in the Fire Nation's military probably a bit of a shock to him, and it stroked the blunette's ego to no bounds. However, the prince recovered quickly and readily spat back a response. "What the hell does an Admiral want with me?"
"Ah, it isn't me that wants you, Your Highness," Grimmjow said, watching the confusing pass over the other's pretty face. "Disappointed?"
"Don't flatter yourself," Ichigo said, rolling his eyes - an action rather bold for a captive among the enemy. The admiral gave a gruff chuckle in his deep voice, amused by the boy's audacity. It wasn't often someone had the nerve to talk back to him and this would be the first instance in which that person didn't pay for it in blood.
"You're too cute, prince, you know that?" Grimmjow husked, turning away from the flustered, sputtering teen and lowering himself to the chair by his desk, moving it to face the other. "Agni above, relax, would you? It's a compliment."
Too unnerved by the blunette's words, Ichigo merely curled his upper lip and let out a sound of frustration somewhere between a growl and a snarl, Grimmjow thinking his syrupy brown eyes blazing with vexation an impossibly beautiful sight to behold.
"But let's move on to the reason I came to speak with you, shall we?" he said almost as if he were rather bored by the topic. "See, while you're a guest on my ship there are a few things you should know to make our time together as... pain-free as possible, savvy? Firstly, and most importantly, we have here a strictly enforced no waterbending policy."
"And you think I'm going to abide by that policy?" Ichigo quipped in superior disbelief, as if the notion was so ridiculous anyone who believed it was an absolute moron. Grimmjow laughed softly to himself, reclining in his chair casually.
"Unfortunately, it's non-optional," he said, tone condescendingly sympathetic. "Not to mention, it might be a little hard to waterbend without any water," he lamented, elaborating when the parka-bedecked boy raised his left eyebrow skeptically. "Don't worry, precautions were taken to make sure of it. The crew pumps dry air through the vents and will use proper restraints when you're given drinking water. You'll be heavily guarded at all times and confined to the four walls of this room until we make port at the capital."
Ichigo simmered in deathly silence, burning gaze saying more than words ever could. Grimmjow barely suppressed the urge to lick his lips, his mind playing imagined scenes of things he could do to inspire other equally passionate expressions, desire so strong it surprised him blossoming within the more primal and instinct-driven part of him. A lifetime of pressure and need to always remain composed under any circumstances was the only reason why the naturally hot-blooded firebender remained impassive on the surface.
The admiral rose from his seat, stalking toward the frustratingly attractive royal until he was nearly flush with the side of the bed, bending at the waist so that his face was inches away from Ichigo's. Their eyes locked, intensely boring into one another, seemingly piercing straight down into the depths of what might be their souls.
"But you and I know that won't be enough, don't we?" Grimmjow whispered so softly his words were almost inaudible. "In fact, I'm counting on it. And when that happens I'll be there waiting for you."
"Why?" Ichigo asked breathlessly, causing the older man to smirk before he straightened to his full height and began to walk back to the door leading to the hallway.
"Don't pretend as if you don't know," Grimmjow said, turning the spoked wheel in the center of the door and pulling it open. "I want more than just a taste... and so do you, Ichigo."
Then he disappeared beyond the threshold, leaving the door to swing shut behind him and his prisoner alone in his lavish cell. There was a soldier posted on either side of the portal, stances rigid and at attention in the presence of their superior. Grimmjow ignored them, swiftly striding down the hall and taking a mental note to replace them with two of his best benders. He didn't want Ichigo attempting an escape just yet; that would be like reaching that blissful peak of physical intimacy before he'd even undressed.
No, when you were lucky enough to catch the perfect partner you had to take your time, savor everything that led up to climax, and with an ocean to cross during their journey all they had was time.
Ichigo lay on his back, staring up at the dull metal ceiling. He didn't know how long it had been since the admiral, Grimmjow, had paid him a visit but figured it to be close to sunset by now, the day feeling like an eternity. All that had happened since the man left had been the two times a group of armored and masked guards brought him food and water, an utterly humiliating experience involving the binding of his limbs so he was unable to move even a finger. Somehow, he'd managed to keep calm for the duration of both meals, repeating that he would get his chance to escape his imprisonment over and over in his head like a mantra.
At some point his parka had proven too warm for the mild temperature of the ship and he'd slipped it off, storing it under the bed - hidden from whoever may for whatever reason take it away from him. This left him dressed in his tunic, pants, boots, gloves, and arm wrappings. He was also relieved to find no one had removed any of his three necklaces, all of them irreplaceable in the event of their loss.
Though the waterbender wasn't certain of why exactly he'd been taken prisoner and was currently being shipped to the Fire Nation capital, there was no doubt whatever the reason was it wasn't good. Forget his own safety, he needed to return home for his people. In the wake of devastation the siege had wreaked upon their city it was more critical than ever they be able to look to the royal family and council members for guidance and reassurance, especially considering the sudden loss of their princess. Furthermore, aside from that Ichigo couldn't allow the Fire Nation use him in any way against his tribe which was all too likely why he was still alive.
It would be excruciating to wait and bide his time until he'd developed a plan or an opportunity presented itself but like so many other things he didn't have a choice.
However, that didn't mean he couldn't make himself more comfortable in the meantime, Ichigo thought as a devious grin flittered over his face. Sitting up on the bed and bending his legs in front of him, the orangette lifted his bound wrists to chest level. There was a band of metal around each of them connected by a heavy chain made out of iron links that measured about eight or so inches long. It was suspicious that he even had them on in the first place, he a known master waterbender supposed to be rendered helpless by such a simple and flimsy contraption.
Casting the thought to the side, Ichigo bowed his head and brought his forearms together so his wrists and the metal bands pressed against each other, raising them 'till they rested barely an inch from his mouth. He inhaled deeply and exhaled his breath slowly through his lips where it crystallized in the air and swirled around his wrists, its temperature colder than the arctic wind. Immediately a layer of frost appeared on the pieces of iron, lines of jagged cracks in the material soon following. The skin underneath the chains began to burn in protest, the metal feeling like solid ice around his wrists, but Ichigo didn't let up before his lungs were empty of air. Then in a lightning fast movement he jerked his wrists apart violently, the chains holding for a brief second and then shattering completely and bursting into pieces.
Ichigo took a moment to revel in that he was now able to move his hands and arms freely and the pile of broken metal spread across the carmine bedsheet. The small act of rebellion made him feel a bit better, more determined.
A noise signaling someone on the other side opening the door had his head snapping up, already on alert. He expected the group of soldiers to enter the room, here to bring him dinner he wished he could refuse under the principle of not accepting any form of aid from the enemy and the one who'd captured him (more like taken advantage of his grief to sneak up behind him to disable him with a cheap shot but whatever.)
Needless to say, Ichigo was not in the least prepared for instead of several figures a sole one to step through the door and greet him with an irritatingly self-satisfied smirk.
"Breaking things already, I see. Not very princely of you, Your Highness."
Recovering from his surprise a moment later, Ichigo merely sneered at the newcomer, still not back to the mental state needed to come up with a scathing retort, especially since he was busy raking his gaze over the other's form. Grimmjow looked no different from this morning, dressed in uniform and armor that unfairly brilliantly complemented his complexion of bronze and azure, yet this time he carried something in his hand that confoundingly resembled two sets of dinner rations. Ichigo felt his eyes narrow on their own, his wariness swelling to new heights.
The admiral strode across the room to his chair by the desk, perfectly at ease as he sat down and placed both of the full bowls and one of the cups in his grasp onto the wooden surface next to him. He continued to hold the other cup with his right hand, propping it up by resting that elbow on the desk. Feeling vulnerable in his position, Ichigo unfolded his legs and swung them over the side of the bed, clutching the edge of the mattress at their sides. The predicament he presently found himself in was just too bizarre, his captor appearing to intend on them dinin together as if they were friends. Grimmjow had to be planning something or have some kind of trick up his sleeve, perhaps plotting to lure Ichigo into a false sense of security.
"Stop looking at me like that," the blue-haired man grunted, plopping his booted feet onto the desk, legs crossed at the ankle. "I always eat my dinner in my quarters, so you're the one invading my personal space. Be grateful I don't throw you in a cell with the elephant rats."
Though he physically was no different from this morning, there was definitely a change in Grimmjow's aura. He wasn't acting like the narcissistic, infuriating, teasing, and smug man who'd conversed with the teenager earlier on, no glint of amusement in his vividly blue stare and his smirk was an empty expression. There was a darker vibe to his energy and Ichigo fleetingly thought the man looked tired... and unhappy, before mentally dismissing the notion. He wasn't about to feel even the tiniest bit of sympathy for the one who'd heartlessly taken him from his home and directly into the enemy's clutches.
"I'd rather you did. Maybe then I wouldn't have to endure your company."
"I'm not exactly thrilled by your presence either, brat," Grimmjow said, upper lip curled and eyes looking down into the contents of his mug.
"You seemed pretty excited I was here this morning," Ichigo snapped, drawing his knees up and arms coming up to lay across them while his feet rested on the edge of the bed. "Why were you, anyway? Why get so amped on having me here as a prisoner of war if not for some sadistic anticipation of whatever you planned to do to me?"
Lucid cobalt blue eyes flashed up to meet his, their depths a tapestry of unknown emotion despite the rest of Grimmjow's visage appearing as if carved from unforgiving stone. "I don't owe you an explanation."
"Yes, you do," Ichigo said, mouth moving faster than his brain. "You said it yourself: I gave you a good fight, a challenge. Doesn't that deserve at the very least an answer to one single question?"
The admiral chuckled darkly, lowering his gaze and setting his drink on the desk before knitting his hands together and placing them behind his head. "What's so funny?" Ichigo asked, frowning.
"That you don't realize you just answered your own question."
Since that first night the Fire Nation admiral and Water Tribe prince reluctantly spent dinner in each other's company they continued to do so each and every night after, neither mentioning the strangeness of their arrangement. Days passed, then a week, then two - a fortnight of Prince Ichigo's captivity on the warship and the last meal of the day shared between the two men.
Grimmjow couldn't exactly speak on his prisoner's feelings toward that hour after sunset he sat at his desk across from the orange-haired youth, conversation sometimes sparking and flowing with ease and other times utterly non-existent. But he could say, to himself that is, he didn't hate the singular moment of relative peace he was allotted throughout the day. From the instant his eyes opened to whenever he was finally allowed to close them his life consisted of never ending mental and physical exertion, the job of an admiral bitter work. It wasn't terrible being able to look forward to when he could relax in the presence of just one person instead of dozens or even hundreds.
And he guessed His Highness wasn't an awful choice for his dining companion. The brat didn't talk incessantly and when he did whatever he said wasn't stupid or boring, though he did have an annoying habit of asking question after question and Grimmjow hated the looks the younger man gave him at times, like he was just so morally superior. But Grimmjow still preferred fighting the Tribal Prince above all.
Agni, nearly all of his dreams featured that one magnificent battle he recognized as his personal best. However, the memories triggered something in him he'd never associated with any of his past fights and it frustrated him. There was a longing, a desire to fight Ichigo again, and an admiration for the waterbender, not surprising since the kid had earned Grimmjow's respect as anyone so powerful and gifted in the bending arts and combat would, and then there was something else. An emotion unfamiliar to him that wasn't unpleasant and presented itself whenever he thought of Ichigo and their first meeting and steadily grew stronger.
Less confusing than this was all the bits and pieces of information the waterbender had unknowingly given away too freely to someone he barely knew, not to mention an outright enemy. Grimmjow had learned over the last two weeks Ichigo loved arctic white crab, hated sea prunes, despised the Fire Nation and firebenders (a fact he repeatedly mentioned), at seven had had a close call with a stray wolf, this was his first time leaving the Northern Water Tribe since he'd arrived as an infant, and he'd even absentmindedly let slip to secede the title of Tribal Chief he had to marry, his tone all that was needed to betray his lack of enthusiasm at the prospect.
And what disturbed Grimmjow was he'd revealed just as much of himself, his inhibitions somehow lower than normal. He comforted himself by figuring his willingness to reciprocate due to their inevitable parting at the Fire Nation capital, the Ichigo that knew all that was said in confidance good as dead.
The ship was halfway through the crossing from the arctic waters of the north pole to the volcanic islands of the Fire Nation, traveling along the coast of the northwesternmost part of the Earth Kingdom. In two more weeks they would dock at their destination, deliver the Fire Lord's gift, and then Grimmjow would probably be ordered to return south, back to a mind-numbing existence without real purpose. The blunette had really been spoiled recently, given an unusual amount of excitement in such a brief period of time. It would be hard to readjust to the mundane and harder to accept it.
But Grimmjow was not the kind of man to wish, misty-eyed and wistful, on a star or whatever stupid inanimate object the weak and faint of heart believed able to magically grant that which they desired. He was a man of action, and yet that was precisely why obediently returning to a life grayer than an overcast sky and duller than a broken blade terrified him.
When the firebender entered his (former) quarters, he found his captive prince not in his normal spot on the bed and instead sitting at the desk, back to the door whilst reading, rather oddly, one of Grimmjow's firebending scrolls. The heavy thud the door made when it closed by itself alerted Ichigo he'd been caught and to the older man's amusement he immediately began to shuffle the numerous pages of parchments covering the desk, stuffing them back wherever they came from.
Turning around cautiously in his seat, the effort Ichigo put into looking cool and collected was both obvious and humorous, especially since he was betrayed by a rosy flush tinting his naturally tanned skin and scowled even harder than he normally did. "You're late," he murmured and Grimmjow briefly wondered how the boy could tell the time without a window or sundial.
"Is that why you were rifling through my things?" he said, avoiding answering the question. "I had no idea you cared so much."
"I do not!" Ichigo protested, clearly an impulse from the way his eyes widened a bit after the exclamation left his lips and when he spoke again he did so in a much softer volume, clearing his throat beforehand. "I mean, I don't really care whatever it is you have stashed away in here. I was just bored and I only read a few instructional bending scrolls anyway and - "
"Shut up, you're not in trouble. I'm not going to bend you over my knee and give you a spanking."
The reaction to those words was so worth it.
Ichigo really had a talent for looking outraged and painfully embarrassed at the same time. And blushing. The young prince's face burned a bright red even while he venomously glared up at the other man, appearing on the edge of committing murder with his bare hands.
Grimmjow walked in the direction of the desk, closing the distance between he and the pretty royal. He carelessly dropped the dinnerware on the desk and made use of the bed's vacancy, flopping onto the plush mattress on his back and positioning his hands underneath his head. As always, he revelled in the quiet surrounding him after too many hours of pure noise guaranteed to cause a splitting headache.
"It's probably not a good idea to let your guard down around a prisoner like that," Ichigo said following a couple moments' silence, every syllable dripping sarcasm. "Isn't an admiral like you supposed to know that by now?"
A vein in Grimmjow's temple ticked harshly and his brow and nose scrunched a bit after the brat simultaneously asked another pointless question and insulted him passive-aggressively. "Firstly, don't act like you're planning to try anything while I'm in the room. Secondly, what makes you think I'm letting my guard down?"
"You really think too much of yourself, you know that? And you're lying down with your eyes closed in a small space completely alone except for an unrestrained captive waterbender. If that's not letting your guard down I don't know what is."
"Then you don't know what it means to be aware of your surroundings," Grimmjow said, eyes opening and swiveling to the side in order to see Ichigo bent over the desk, his chin cradled in one palm and staring down at the mess of parchment covering the mahogany wood. "Truthfully, it doesn't matter if I am or not when I'm alone with you."
"What is that supposed to mean? Are you saying you... trust me?"
"I don't trust anyone," Grimmjow scoffed. "I just know you won't make any escape attempt as long as I'm in this room."
"You sound so certain, as if you've known me forever, not a measly two weeks. How can you be so sure of what I may do or not? You can't, it's not possible."
"Let's say I'm an expert at reading people and leave it at that."
"Let's not. Please share your secrets with me, oh wise one," Ichigo said, his facetiousness growing every second.
"How 'bout I prove it to you instead? And once I do you promise not to ask me any more stupid questions tonight and eat your dinner like a good boy."
"Fine, go for it."
Grimmjow's mouth curved into a wicked smile, never taking his eyes off Ichigo's lovely face in anticipation of whatever amusing expression was soon to come. "All right, what if I told you I knew why the last time you practiced waterbending in public was the day you earned the title of Master? It wasn't difficult to figure out, not after you showed me what you were capable of and a few minutes worth of conversation. In fact, I'm surprised no one else has realized it before me."
"You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know anything about me," Ichigo said, nearly whispering his voice was so soft, the sound that of a man gravely offended and trying to hide the reality of his fear.
"Oh, don't I? You, my dear prince, haven't waterbended where anyone could see all this time because you're afraid, probably more so than of anything else, that if anybody witnessed what you can really do, the amount power you possess, your potential for destruction, they would then become terrified of you, coming to believe you weren't so much a Master as a monster. Your biggest fear is fear itself."
Once Grimmjow had said the words 'you're afraid', the orangette froze, not appearing to so much as breathe whilst his captor revealed what had to be his deepest, darkest secret as if he could see straight into his soul, the single explanation for why an enemy he'd known for a mere fortnight spoke aloud what he feared most of all. The blunette felt incredibly pleased with himself in that instant, having thoroughly shocked Ichigo into absolute speechlessness and proven his claim he was an expert at reading people so well it was not only possible for him to assess everything about someone, personality, loves, hopes, dreams, fears, he practically read minds.
"I win, so go ahead and eat and don't ask me any more of your annoying questions."
It was Grimmjow's turn to be surprised as Ichigo did what he said, mute save for the sound of chewing for the rest of the hour. Those expressive amber orbs seemed to dim, their color and radiance fading until they were flat and lifeless, and stared blankly at his bowl the whole time. Suddenly not hungry, Grimmjow simply lay there, unable to enjoy the quiet stillness for some reason.
At the end of the hour, he sat up and was on the verge of standing when Ichigo at last said something.
"Tell me what your biggest fear is," he said as if the sentence was a wistful sigh and when his only response was utter silence, elaborated. "Even if your moral compass doesn't exactly point north, I know you have some kind of code of honor buried in there somewhere. I'm at a disadvantage you must feel you have to get rid of for us to be on equal ground, right? So, tell me what it is you fear most of all."
"Sorry to disappoint, Ichigo. I was born into Fire Nation nobility; nothing scares me."
He left quickly after that, his lie leaving a bad taste in his mouth. But he couldn't tell Ichigo what he feared more than anything was just what the fiery-haired waterbender saved him from.
A sleepless night and sunrise later, Grimmjow stood in the ship's control center as a part of his routine morning rounds when one of his men delivered to him a letter wrapped in black ribbon. Recognizing the contents of the letter as of utmost importance, the admiral nearly ripped the thing in half, eager to discover if it held news of anything the least bit interesting. However, within seconds as he scanned the characters written in perfect calligraphy for the first time in his life Grimmjow felt his stomach drop.
Admiral Grimmjow of the Southern Fleet,
It is the express order of His Majesty Fire Lord Ozai, Commander in Chief of the Fire Nation's Imperial Army, that previous instructions concerning the currently imprisoned Tribal Prince Ichigo of the Northern Water Tribe be disregarded in favor of a new imperial order of action. Cease your ship's journey to our capital city immediately; it is no longer your express duty to deliver the prisoner of war to His Majesty the Fire Lord. By His decree the reigning Admiral of the Southern Fleet is now bestowed with the honorable duty to dispose of aforementioned prisoner as efficiently and soon as possible and directly afterwards set a course for the Admiral and all ships under his command to return to their previous position sailing the southernmost waters to continue serving our great nation and His Majesty Fire Lord Ozai. Further instruction will be delivered upon the completion of the orders entailed within this message.
As dictated by His Majesty Fire Lord Ozai.
On his sixteenth morning waking in the deceivingly lavish quarters that served as his jail cell, Ichigo finally opened his eyes not expecting to see the comfortingly familiar sight of his childhood bedroom then being crushed by the bitter reality of his situation. It got a little easier each day, the seventeen year-old slowly growing accustomed to his confinement within the admiral's former private rooms.
He hated to admit it but lately all it seemed Ichigo could think of was said admiral. But that was only natural, right? Grimmjow was his sole source of human interaction, the singular person with which the orangette had spoken to for the entire duration of his time on the Fire Nation ship - fifteen days and counting. Even things like how much he missed the sunshine and the scent of crisp night air he barely began to muse over before the enigma of blue-haired man cut right through his thoughts and then his mind would unwillingly conjure a book of ideas all centering around the firebender, Ichigo wondering what that head of exotically exquisite pale azure hair would look when it caught rays of sunlight or if the sun instead warmed the ship deck to the point Grimmjow was sweating and decided to take one or two layers of his uniform off in order to cool down...
To make a long story short, it was driving him insane.
And what really frustrated Ichigo was that his thoughts were too dominated by the blunette's presence it had been impossible to formulate even the beginnings of an escape plan during the hours he passed alone in that room. He wouldn't be surprised if he totally lost it in the next few upcoming days.
In a cruel twist of fate, the honest truth was the prince owed the staying power of his own sanity to those stupid dinner dates every night. Ichigo couldn't believe he actually looked forward to when Grimmjow would appear at the door, his excuse for choosing to eat there always that he wanted a reprieve from the laborious tasks of an admiral - a valid reason, Ichigo supposed.
And the worst thing about it all? Grimmjow wasn't just extremely skilled at firebending and stunning to look at, he was... interesting. Inconceivable, yes. Maddening, definitely. The truth, unfortunately.
Everything the man said sparkled, his deep, rumbling voice making his simplest remarks sound powerful. His teasing was, although infuriating, admittedly clever and full of wit. Yet the few occasions Grimmjow said something profound were what really left Ichigo breathless. That moment those lush lips were the first to speak his greatest fear...
There were no words.
Perhaps if they hadn't been born and bred as enemies they could've been something more. But the reality the sole threat to his freedom was Grimmjow and despite whatever silly feelings Ichigo began developing the second they first met face to face in the icy streets of his beloved frozen city he never lost one tiny bit of his will to break free and return to his people. He didn't know how long it may take or what may be needed to make it back yet he knew one day he would set foot on the grounds blanketed in snow of home.
Ichigo pushed himself up to a sitting position, sliding his legs over the side of the bed and throwing the covers off of his lower body. For the sixteenth day in a row he continued to wear the outfit he'd donned the night of the Fire Nation's attack on the Northern Water Tribe, his parka remaining untouched where it lay underneath the bed.
In fourteen days time the ship would dock at the island locale of the Fire Nation's capital city and if he stayed onboard 'till then it would be too late for him to escape whatever horrible fate awaited him there. He hadn't succeeded in narrowing down the endless possibilities that the Fire Lord & Co. may have in store for him. Grimmjow certainly never gave any clues away if he was informed about the matter. Would the man really readily hand Ichigo over to Lord Ozai when he'd been made aware of the tyrant's cruel plans? Sure he was brutal and rough and had a sadistic streak and was a bit... off, but did that necessarily mean he was so heartless? He couldn't be, he was too intense and passionate and always intense no matter his mood, his eyes reflecting the burn of his inner fire smoldering at times and blazing at others.
Ugh,why was he even thinking about this? Ichigo groaned and buried his face in his hands. The amount of instances Grimmjow invaded his subconscious were already ridiculous and the number just continued to grow bigger every passing second. The sooner he got away from the man the better.
Ichigo jumped at the loud creak of the door swinging open at unimaginable speed and hitting against the wall with a metallic thud. He didn't even get the chance to identify the muscular figure that burst into the room, clothed in all black fabric hiding everything save for the upper half of their face, before said figure grabbed his upper arm in their hand, forcefully pulling the orangette off the bed and through the doorway into the hallway.
Recognizing the bizarreness of what was going on, halfway down the hall Ichigo dug his heels into the floor and suddenly stopped short. His mouth opened, demands for an explanation ready on the tip of his tongue and immediately forgotten as the unknown man in black looked over his shoulder and the waterbender caught sight of a very familiar pair of unreal blue eyes.
"Grimmjow?" his shocked whisper impulsively said. "What in the hell are you doing? What's going on? Why are you mmph - " Ichigo's steadily rising voice was cut off by a gloved hand slammed over his mouth, the other lowering his half-covered face incredibly close to his own.
"Do you want to die?" Grimmjow said through the fabric enshrouding his features, tone deep and dangerous. The orangette shook his head, the hand remaining pressed to his face. "That's what I thought. So if you want to live you shut up and do what I say, got it?" Ichigo paused, not knowing if he could trust a Fire Nation admiral and then realizing that whether he liked it or not he trusted Grimmjow with his life more than anyone else. He nodded and the hand left his mouth, instantly once again being dragged through the narrow hallway like a ragdoll. However he decided it best not to complain about the rough treatment. Whatever was going couldn't be good and right now he had to rely on Grimmjow's help, a predicament he never imagined in his wildest dreams.
At the end of the corridor they hung a sharp left, Ichigo's feet hardly touching the floor as he allowed the blue-haired man to practically carry him. They were met by a set of steps closer to a ladder than stairs that appeared to lead up to the deck, Grimmjow releasing the hold on the other's arm and ascended the steps. Following suit, Ichigo rushed up directly behind the older man and within a second flat they stood on the ship's massive deck encircled all the way around by a simple rail.
Ichigo was greeted by several different visual pieces of information, processing them rapidly with the battle-trained mind of a master martial artist. The sun was hovering right above the horizon, telling him it was just after dawn, and he assessed that their surroundings were not the open sea as he'd originally believed. There were actually docked in a small bay on the coast of a small seaside village, picking out the telltale architecture of Earth Kingdom buildings. Also, he and Grimmjow were alone on the deck, unusual for a colossal military vessel crewed by hundreds. The last, and most important thing, Ichigo noticed were the fleet of smaller, sleeker ships flanking their substantially larger one, their unfamiliar flags boasting red backgrounds and ebony sea raven emblems.
He heard Grimmjow swear vulgarly under his breath, the firebender seizing the prince's wrist in hand and tugging him into a full-out sprint across the spanse between them and the tip of the ship's bow. They had run three-fourths of the length when a swarm of grappling hooks soared up in the air, finding purchase on the railing. Grimmjow slid to a complete stop, Ichigo nearly crashing into him.
"I know I promised I would shut up, but I think now may be a good time to fill me in on exactly what's happening and who they are," the teen hissed, gaze scanning over the dozen or so men climbing up lines of rope and dressed in clearly Fire Nation armor though it differed from any other he'd seen so far.
"'They' would be the Southern Raiders, the special naval task force, and are about to try and kill us in about.. ten seconds. Give 'em hell or you're a dead man," Grimmjow muttered, falling into a defensive stance. Ichigo shook his head to clear it of the shock from the hasty debriefing basically telling him he was on the edge of a fight for his life.
Well, good thing he had more than enough water to bend with.
The identical thirteen figures of these Southern Raiders set foot on the deck in perfect unison, their arms rising at the elbow in traditional firebending form and all together they began to close in on their two targets. Ichigo briefly pondered whether he or Grimmjow were supposed to take on seven instead of six, widening his stance so his feet were shoulder-width apart and his arms protected his center, their extension relaxed to portray the softness associated with the motions of waterbending. He chanced a glance at the firebender at his side, not needing to see the eager grin on Grimmjow's face to know it was there.
Their assailants collectively stopped, a tension-filled silence lasting the moment of anticipation before they struck out their closed fists and aimed jets of fire in the center of the circle toward both bending Masters. Using speed even he was impressed by, Ichigo moved his arms in a gentle arch from his side and across his chest, pulling a stream of water out of the waves below to surround him completely as an impenetrable shield. Beside him he was vaguely aware of the projectiles within Grimmjow's reach fizzle out in thin air without the man so much as wiggling a finger.
The first attack done, playtime was over.
Ichigo dodged the next barrage of flames by bending water underneath his feet and surfing the small wave around the ship deck, leaving a wall of ice in his wake. The Raiders' attempts to scorch him always came close to their target but no cigar, the orangette too fast for even their highly skilled assaults. While he raced around his track of ice, he watched in the corner of his eye the very center of the brawl where Grimmjow was in his glory.
The admiral was one of the most agile yet terribly powerful benders Ichigo ever watched display their abilities, if not the most. He bent fire with brilliant grace and incredible strength, the way he moved surely impossible for a mortal to perform and still he made it look effortless. The teenager turned his full attention to Grimmjow when the man dropped to the ground, supporting himself just with his hands and span around several times, creating rings of fire whose heat Ichigo could feel on his face. Those close to the blunette were forced back at least twenty feet in order to not be horribly burned and before the flames dissipated Grimmjow was back on his feet, a swirling vortex of fire bursting from his fist.
Ichigo returned his attention to the Raiders on his tail, deciding it necessary for a little more of his own bending action. Riding a sharp curve, he lifted his arms out to the side and sent the water underneath him shooting as a column high above his head. His six opponents lined up fifteen or so feet away, launching their fiery missiles one after the other this time. Ichigo shifted his right foot back so he could angle his body so that his left side faced his enemies, bent arms gliding from their position parallel in opposite directions until his fingertips were all that mirrored each other. The column behind him collapsed and rushed over his head, the effect a waterfall crashing directly where the firebenders stood, helpless against the forceful current throwing them back to slam against the railing.
Unlike the men pushed over the metal bar to plummet into the ocean, three recovered, abandoning their uniform fighting style in favor of attacking Ichigo individually, two punching a series of fire blasts and one jumping into the air and kicking as high as he could to conjure a tower of fire intending on consuming the orange-haired boy in its path. Ichigo swept his arms and subsequently a wall of water massive and sturdy enough to withstand all three surges of flames. He let it fall immediately afterwards, bringing his palms to shoulder-level and facing outwards which froze some of the water in midair. Then he turned his body to the side once again, front arm holding its form while swiveling to remain pointed straightforward and the other arm slicing diagonally in front of Ichigo's torso, the liquid under his control freezing into a sheet of ice.
Returning to face forward, the prince used both arms to slash down in an 'X' and splintering the block of ice and creating a hail of fatally sharp crystal daggers that shot with perfect aim toward the three Raiders. Two fell victim, the opponent on the far left the one of three quick enough to bend a blast of fire to protect himself. Ichigo somehow sensed underneath the thick layers of armor the expression on the firebender's face was a mask of nerves as it dawned on him he was now alone in the fight against the waterbender, whose body hummed with self-satisfaction.
Nevertheless, he needed to wrap this up and move on to what his and Grimmjow's next step would be. Circling his arms and then pulling them back and closing his fists as if he meant to punch them simultaneously, he did just that, a torrent of water beckoning his call and mercilessly striking the remaining Raider, lifting his flailing body about three yards. Almost dismissively, Ichigo simply rotated his fists a few degrees and froze his opponent inside a small fortress made of solid ice.
Hearing a sizzling crackling noise that was in no way the distinctive low roar of flames, the youth whipped around and saw something that caused his eyes to grow to the size of saucers and jaw to drop. After all, Ichigo had only ever heard and read about what he was witnessing, a rare phenomenon in all four nations.
Grimmjow was at the bow of the ship, all seven Raiders he'd claimed still standing and sporting singed clothes and numerous injuries forming a row of statues, surely paralyzed by the same incredulity the sight before them Ichigo felt. The blue-haired admiral stood in a wide stance, knees slightly bent, his arms crossing over each other and he was alternating slowly gliding them in slow, graceful motions, pointer and middle finger extended. Then there was the reason everyone was watching stunned and silent: shooting in jagged, pulsating bolts from the tips of those two fingers was pure lightning, the danger and electricity the heavenly energy emanated echoing the aura of the mortal manipulating their power.
And then Grimmjow slid one hand out and away 'till the blindingly blue vortex was directed right at the point exactly halfway on the line created by the seven assailants. Ichigo almost felt bad for them; they never had a chance Grimmjow released his storm of lightning in the blink of an eye, posing the question which was the real force of destruction.
The moment the bolt of cerulean electricity struck its bullseye an explosion erupted on the spot, the results a thick cloud containing debris and smoke and crackling tangents shooting out its center every which way. Ichigo instinctually shielded his head and face using his arms, lowering them not a second before he was certain the dust had settled. He peered through the mist of gray vapor, spotting prone figures belonging to Raiders but Grimmjow was nowhere to be seen, as if he vanished into thin air.
"That was fun, wasn't it, Your Highness?"
The yelp that escaped the younger man's throat brought a bashful blush to Ichigo's face and a barking laugh out from deep down in Grimmjow's chest, the cloth meant for covering the blunette's mouth and nose now pulled down under his chin, the seventeen year-old lamenting no matter how well his imagination recreated that predatory grin it could never compare to the real thing.
"Aside from a team of assassins trying to kill me, I had a wonderful time."
"Liar. Stop acting like you're so damn morally superior. I saw that smile you had on your face," Grimmjow said, raising one eyebrow, and a brief jolt went through Ichigo's body when he realized that during some point in the fight he had smiled.
"Yeah, well at least I'm not an egotistical showoff that toys with my opponents to whenever I decide I'm ready for my grand finale," the orangette spat back, folding his arms and avoiding the other's gaze by looking off in the distance.
"Tch. At least I'm not an uptight, clueless, self-righteous little boy and know how to have a good time," Grimmjow said, giving it right back.
"Better to be any of those things than a sadistic, heartless lunatic incapable of real emotion and tries to fill the void with violence and bloodshed but in the end will be unloved and die alone," Ichigo said, spinning to look straight up into the older man's eyes and voice rising in volume to a shout by his last few words. Surprisingly, Grimmjow didn't say a thing to that, his lucidly azure orbs whirlpools of intense emotion and in spite of himself the orange-haired waterbender began to feel guilty for saying what he had.
Never breaking their eye contact, Ichigo shortly decided to take back what he'd said simply because the man to which he said it had inarguably (and unbelievably) saved his life that morning. He lowered his eyes and took a deep breath, ready to be the bigger man and apologize and possibly call a truce with the firebender but he didn't get the chance.
What happened within the next few seconds Ichigo felt he experienced in slow motion, witnessing every last millisecond with frightening clarity.
First he sensed Grimmjow stiffen, broad hands snapping up to grab his shoulders and the man's gruff voice yelling "Get down!" while pushing him down and to the right using strength that knocked Ichigo to the metal surface, landing on his side hard. Pain flaring in his ribs and elbow and indignant at being roughly shoved out of nowhere, the prince was in the process of looking up to the man who'd pushed him and subsequently saw the inferno soaring right where he'd been standing in his peripheral vision. But he made it just in time to watch in horror the devastating flames slam into Grimmjow's chest and savagely driving him crashing to the ground in a heap, his body sliding twenty feet and left curled on its side facing away from where a shaking Ichigo refused to believe what he'd just seen had really happened.
That collapsed, lifeless figure couldn't be Grimmjow. It belonged to somebody else, somebody weak and cowardly and easily defeated, somebody in no way like Grimmjow.
And yet Ichigo vaguely discerned that his body was already moving to push himself to his feet and once he was standing began approaching the unmoving form in a slow, gliding fashion that made it seem as if he were walking in a dream.
But that surreal atmosphere shattered around him as his instincts sensed the threat at his back and prompted him to spin on his heel, whirling around and stilling himself when he faced the exact opposite direction. Mind free of his shock-induced hazy fog, Ichigo zeroed in on a single Raider back from the dead and rage seared through his veins at the abhorrent sight of the bastard responsible for the cheap shot. Apparently this alone was able to send fear piercing through a feeble and wasted soul, the masked soldier backing away a few steps.
Unfortunately for the wretch who mistakenly believed engaging a fury-filled Ichigo, the height of emotions coursing throughout the master waterbender realized the perfect conditions for his most impressive technique. For reasons unknown to him, pulling the remarkable feat off required feeling something so deeply and completely it overwhelmed him, the effect similar to an adrenaline rush.
Focusing every last bit of his energy, Ichigo channeled it all into mentally willing his desire to become reality. It didn't take long until the water started responding to his wishes, he and his element's spiritual connection vibrating with power in the recesses of his mind, and the warship quaked as a great rumbling sounded from the depths below. And finally a monstrous swell of blue and white water ascended from the ocean to the heavens like a giant sea monster, the mass towering stories above them when it stopped, casting a looming shadow. Its trembling stillness painted a frightening portrait and like a living thing threatened an unmerciful end to those it hunted.
Delighting in the Raider's unadulterated terror visible despite the armor and mask for a stirring moment, Ichigo narrowed his eyes and beckoned the mountain of water to do his bidding. The center of the immense wave rippled as the water shaped its face, swooping down and opening its gaping maw wide as possible. Ichigo witnessed in great satisfaction the animate wave flood the deck's other side and that mouth swallow the red and black figure there whole and then recede back into the sea as if it had never happened.
A hoarse groan interrupted his feeling pleased with himself, acting as a warning bell to return to the real world. Ichigo practically flew across the distance separating him and where the pile of black fabric lay motionless near the railing. Upon reaching it, he fell to his knees and hesitating a bit before gingerly gripping two handfuls of material and ever so gently used his hold on it and pull towards him.
Ichigo bit his bottom lip hard as the action forced him to recognize the listless body was Grimmjow, unable to deny it when he rolled the man onto his back - barely noticing the lock of sky blue hair that had escaped the headwrap to its rightful place dangling over a tanned forehead. There wasn't anything that could draw the orangette's attention away from the ugly image of Grimmjow's freshly burnt chest, painfully red seared skin slashing a line down the whole length of his torso, the front of his shirt scorched in the same pattern.
He was totally unaware he'd subconsciously called to the water for help until he felt liquid forming around his hands and begin glowing faintly. Ichigo thanked the Spirits above he'd risked the consequences of getting caught to secretly visit the healing huts and listened to the lectures, though he'd never actually tried what he learned on an injured person...
Begging anyone listening in the Spirit World for this to please, please, please work, even praying for his sister to help him, Ichigo rested his hands a few inches above Grimmjow's chest and painstakingly followed everything he heard the wisewomen say, tapping into that connection like a beaded thread somewhere in his mind.
After an agonizing minute of nothing happening, the glow surrounding his hands brightened and he actually felt the water seep into the damaged flesh. He started a little when he started to really feel the throbbing pain twisted in the burned skin, but figured it meant he was doing something right. Gradually Ichigo relied less on his memory and more on instinct, the latter definitely more suited to the spiritual art of healing. And, thankfully, he watched as the redness of the burn dulled and scar tissue appear around the edges, this process continuing for a grueling twenty minutes, pushing himself to his limits doing the exhausting task of marshalling his entire store of concentration. Nevertheless when it was all over, the grievous injury was a fully healed scar, better but not enough to alleviate the guilt turning Ichigo's stomach in knots.
What were the chances the man he'd believed to have taken his life away saving it twice in one day? If Grimmjow hadn't pushed him out of the way, that fire blast would've hit him and the man wouldn't be lying unconscious in front of him.
"How did you do that?"
Ichigo yelped and hurriedly fell back to lean on his hands, his demeanor not unlike a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Also he was starting to suspect Grimmjow surprised him on purpose. The orange-haired youth looked over to where the other's head rested on the metal surface, eyes no longer closed and staring straight at him. "Do what?" he asked, genuinely lost.
"Healed a fresh burn to an old scar using your bare hands," Grimmjow said, completely serious and voice more hoarse than normal.
"Oh, right," Ichigo said, awkward peals of laughter at his expense following. "Healing is a waterbending technique, but it's only taught to girls. I mean, that's the way it's supposed to be but I... uh... yeah."
Great Spirits, he felt more uncomfortable than ever around Grimmjow, and was making a fool of himself stammering and trying his best to act casually and it wasn't like him at all. Scooting farther away from the object of his vexation, Ichigo rose to his feet and ambled over to the railing. He heard Grimmjow do the same, practically tingled all over knowing the man stood behind him.
"So what's going to happen now?" he questioned, not having a clue what the answer may be.
"Well, I don't about you but my plan is to go to Ba Sing Se - best place for a Fire Nation fugitive."
Ichigo's head snapped over his shoulder and fixed Grimmjow with a disbelieving stare. "Fire Nation... fugitive? How did that happen?"
"Yeah, it's a recent development." the blunette said nonchalantly. "Anyway, are you coming or what?"
"Coming?"
"You really need to work on not asking so many damn questions," Grimmjow said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now I'll make this simple for you, yeah? I am going to Ba Sing Se. Are you coming with me or not?"
"Just to clarify, you mean travel there together, not enemies but... allies?" the orangette said, moving away from the rail and closer to the older man.
"Yes. Give me an answer now because in ten seconds I'm leaving."
"I... uh, I guess I'm in," Ichigo said even though he'd made his decision when the admir-... fugitive first asked him. He knew next to nothing of making his way in the real world. His best bet for survival and ultimately returning home was traveling with someone worldly and capable, and Grimmjow practically defined those words.
"Hurry the hell up, then. Unless you want to wait around for the next group of assassins trying to kill you, that is." The blue-haired man began striding away as he spoke and after a second Ichigo hurried to catch up with him. They navigated their way around the mess they'd made and walked down the ramp to the docks below, the orangette suddenly aware of the pairs of eyes peering from windows and cracked doors off in the fishing village of witnesses to the earlier spectacle.
"We should probably stop at the next town," the teenager murmured, Grimmjow just nodding curtly to convey his agreement. "And buy some new clothes. You do have money, right?"
"Nope."
"Are you serious? How are we going to survive without any money? Where will we get food? Or do you plan on living like a caveman for the rest of your life? Did you think ahead at all?"
Grimmjow stopped dead in his tracks a few steps ahead of him, whipping around and rushing to stand flush with Ichigo's body, towering over the younger male. "I dare you to ask one. More. Goddamn. Question."
"Wha-" Ichigo was allowed to get one syllable out before Grimmjow's gloved hand reached up to grasp his chin in what may be one of the most titillating experiences in his young life.
"You've got such a pretty face. Do me a favor and shut your mouth, all right? Be seen, not heard. It'll make this so much easier for the both of us." Grimmjow said huskily, interrupting the prince when he tried to speak again. "You owe me, after all. I saved your ass twice today."
Not wanting to ignite an argument as they had more important things to do, Ichigo settled for glaring daggers at the man's infuriatingly handsome face and said over and over in his mind that his heart did not flutter at being called 'pretty.' Satisfied, Grimmjow released him and continued leading the way out of the bay's docks. Once they reached the end of the wooden platforms and solid land it went without saying they would turn onto the path leading away from the village and into a bamboo forest, Ichigo marveling at the foreign flora as they disappeared among the lush foliage.
And this was just the beginning of their journey traveling to Ba Sing Se.
A/N: Well I hope you all enjoyed! Despite the lack of hanky panky, lol. Any loose ends in the chapters will be tied up in upcoming chapters.
I think out of all my stories this one is the closest to canon...
And guess what? We have fanart, and it's absolutely beautiful and created by the wonderful Shadowthorne over on dA. Just delete the spaces from the link below to view it. :)
shadowthorne . deviantart art/ Heliogabalus - 303011566