First of all, I'm terribly sorry for the late update. I was very irresponsible for leaving you guys (especially the ones who reviewed) hanging without even announcing that this fic was on hiatus. It's been months and this chapter only took about three weeks. I was busy with assignments and exams in university but that excuse alone is only an excuse. And the fact that Grimmjow is a supposedly dead character in the series dampened my writing spirit a lot, so I procrasitnated.
Thank you, if you're still reading. And many thanks for the reviews.
Another matter I wish to highlight now is that because this style of writing, that is, being sorta philosophical and also taking on a parallel story lines (ie. Rukia's story and Orihime's story) was new to me when I first started Forever Blue. If it confused you, please let me know in reviews or PM me. I will try my best to edit or at least provide explanations.
Here's my overdue chapter and yes, GrimmHime will progress now onwards.
CHAPTER 3: PLAYING NURSE
He had been snarling at her for the past five minutes. She stood at the door of his brand new and totally unappreciated room, looking at him helplessly with a forced smile—maybe she shouldn't enter or attempt any conversation with the mute panther after all. At that thought Orihime smacked her forehead. Conversation? He can't talk!
Grimmjow had woken up, bewildered by his new environment and yet at the same time knew exactly where he was because, 1. This place smelled like the human trash. 2. Said trash left another trash, which was a sticky note, by his futon, saying that she hoped he felt better and that he had to stay with her or risk dying out there. Really, bitch, really?
And before he could do anything else to vent his fury she had returned home and stood before him. The nerve of her! Snarling was the closest he could get to yelling. He could get physical and intimidate her, but he doubted his chances. She had magical hairpins. He had, well, limbs and teeth.
"If you're upset about your powers being sealed away, I'm sorry," she spoke.
His throaty noise paused as he considered her words. He huffed, not in defeat but in annoyance and glanced sideways. He grunted, and she wasn't sure if that was his accepting her apology or some sort of dismissal.
Or his way of saying thank you for all that I've done.
Timely, as though reading her incredulous assumption he turned sharply to stare, a low snarl building up from within his chest.
"No, no, I was just thinking if you're hungry. If… you could tolerate human food." She waved her hands in front of her, eyes darting about. In short: obviously lying. It reminded him of that time he caught her strolling the corridors of Las Noches without Ulquiorra's permission. Without Ulquiorra.
Ulquiorra. The name would send a bitter taste straight to his heart, if he had one. He ran a hand through his blue mane, determined to remove non-existent remnants of hollow reiatsu the bat had left when it had blasted a cero at him. Grimmjow almost grinned at that thought. It was shameful, to think that he was somewhat accustomed to losing to the Fourth Espada, but at the same time rewarding, because now he was the last man standing.
He soon realised that during his nostalgic train of thought and hair-combing he had given the woman a blank look and she was still standing there at the door. The strange thing was that she didn't look dumbfounded, not even lost in the awkward situation. Rather, she was just standing there, frowning, staring ahead, looking at him but not really seeing him there.
Finally catching Grimmjow's intent eyes on her, she half-squealed—a sound that wasn't new to the occupant of the room—and busied herself by smoothing the plates of her skirt. "Ah, I, I will cook enough for two anyway! I can make breakfast and then maybe lunch for tomorrow with the leftovers, so don't worry about wasting food. Hmm, yeah." With that she closed the door behind her, all the while smiling in a way that he found most unattractive.
Sighing, the panther lay back onto the futon and listened to retreating footsteps with his eyes closed.
"You miss that bastard?" He would have said, if he could. He figured that, like him, her thoughts had drifted to a morbid place and the man who was strongly associated with that adjective. Humans are such morons.
And if he weren't Grimmjow he would admit that it was a pity that the bat died just like that. Most hollows didn't deserve a second glance, regardless dead or alive. And even though Ulquiorra, like most hollows, died in battle… Most hollows weren't reduced to dust and become nothing… Right in front of a woman they could have loved.
Smelling human food from outside the door, Grimmjow snapped out of the musings over his supposed comrade's death. What is she making? This smell is… abnormal.
Deciding to take another cat nap he shut down his sense of smell and hearing, for once believing that he wouldn't die as long as under the care of Inoue Orihime and succumbed to sleep, but not before one last thought,
Ulquiorra, you're a fuckin' bastard.
"I don't suppose the nursemaids have been killed during my absence in the house?"
"No, Nii-sama." She diligently worked on the next thin line marring the skin of his upper arm, swiping the area with reiatsu-infused alcohol wipes. The line quickly faded to an unnoticeable paleness but her hand shook in fear that she had caused his discomfort. Nii-sama was in a bad mood, everyone could tell. He was often sarcastic, but rarely when with her. And his sarcasm shouldn't involve any dying nursemaids, Rukia noted.
It was perhaps three minutes later when she realised she had left him an unsatisfying answer. "I mean, I told them not to come. I thought, you would prefer not seeing anyone you're not familiar with… since you didn't stop by the Fourth Division upon return."
"I did not go to the Fourth because I need not," Byakuya flatly commented, his face blank and his eyes set upon the box of emergency kit his adopted sister had brought along.
"I'm sorry to have intruded."
"I do not mind," he replied with a subtle frown.
The room became silent once again. Sealing a particularly large gash, Rukia pushed the possibility of her brother's reply being a lie aside, and remained kneeling by him, the wounded Kuchiki Byakuya. To be exact, a wounded Kuchiki Byakuya who was free of his kenseikan and captain haori but still poised with dignity and a warrior's pride as he sat leisurely in his own quarters, taming the reiatsu within him. The Winter War was hard on every shinigami, both the grieving and the recovering; yet all captains of the Gotei were expected to be unmoving as the pillars salvation. This task, of course, was not a problem for a Kuchiki.
Time to tend to the sword wound on his back. She placed her hand on his shoulder and was about to ask for his permission to continue.
"The rest of the wounds will heal. Leave those to my own reiatsu to deal with. You should return to Unohana." An injection of reiatsu would do her good.
"I want to continue. Let me."
He glanced at her, a fearsome glint in his grey eyes.
"Nii…"
"You are my sister. You should never feel indebted to me. An enemy of that standard is not worthy enough for you to defy me now."
So he thinks I'm tending to him because I feel… indebted? That was, of course, true to a certain extent. And before she could stop herself she had raised her voice. "If I had been stronger I would have killed Yammi and you wouldn't be…!"
"Rukia." He shot her another stern look, daring her to argue further.
"I… Even so, as your sister, I would like to see you healed and patched up and maybe… see you spend less time meditating and more time, I don't know, walking in the gardens? Calligraphy? Blood looks exceptionally glaring on your skin and I feel uneasy about this. Perhaps this is how everyone else feels after the war but that doesn't mean I should just go to bed or let my worries eat my mind away as I wait at the Fourth division ward! And earlier you were being meaner than usual which means you are under stress..." A gasp. "Nii-sama, I, I didn't mean to! No, I do mean what I just said but I apologise for speaking out of place."
"Apology accepted. And I see that I should explain myself. My foul mood was, perhaps, a result of... disagreements with Zaraki."
A terribly long silence followed. She fidgeted.
"Do as you wish," the tension on his face fell and for a split second, there was a ghost of a smile.
"Grimmjow-san, do you want to try some?" She asked from the dining table, as usual.
He didn't move an inch nor give her as much as grunt, his back facing her as he stood at the balcony. She knew what he was doing. For the past few days the fallen panther's only past-time was to watch lowly hollows glide across the skies or roam remote places of human land. Occasionally he would be able to spot the local shinigami taking them out. The vantage point he was currently at wasn't the best as taller buildings blocked most of the view, and… Afro-san was a boring character, so Orihime wondered how on earth was he satisfied just watching like that?
She didn't know, however, that TV annoyed him so he opted this form of entertainment, and that he did try her food once when she was sound asleep in the wee hours, and decided that it was not good for his recovery nor his overall health.
He heard her finish her own dinner as clangs of the cutlery and plates sounded when she put them into the sink. "After washing up I'll do my homework. You'll be fine on your own?"
Once again, no reaction.
"By the way, tomorrow! It's your appointment with Urahara-san. You'll get your 'proper food'!" She told him cheerfully and he finally turned to look at her, a brow raised.
Reiatsu injections aren't proper food, woman.
She smiled at his reaction, "I'm not sure what you're trying to say. But you're not snarling, so that's good." In a quieter voice, she continued, "You know, I could fix it but you didn't let me."
He turned away at that. I don't need your pity. And I don't need to talk to survive.
"Then, do you hate staying here? If dying is better, or being punished at Soul Society is better… You once said you don't have 'forever' and that fighting till the end is…" She was interrupted by a harsh push to her shoulder as he strode pass her to his room.
Before his door slammed shut, she managed to catch his facial expression. It was cold, it was dark. It was a mixture of confusion, anger and feigned indifference at her hurt. He was frowning and his lips were tight. The wild light in his eyes were gone and there remained nothing except that they seemed to tell her,
Do as you wish.
HOPE YOU LIKED THIS CHAPTER AND WOULD BE KIND ENOUGH TO DROP ME A REVIEW.
I WILL ALWAYS BE GRATEFUL.
PS: This fic, is not on hiatus. It will definitely go on.