Chapter Five: Ulquiorra

It was pure conjecture whether he was bewildered by this or not. While he appeared calm on the surface, every sort of disarray must have been gnawing at his insides. That was most likely because something as unlooked for as this was more difficult to straighten than a whole pack of horseshit. If I had been a little less fervent, like if I had kissed him in a normal manner under normal circumstances, some lame excuse would have worked. But, as things were, I was snogging him as if I had been waiting all my life to pull this shit off. Jesus.

On the whole, I was guilty of committing two atrocities all at once, namely: first, sexual assault against a minor, made even more offensive by the fact that we both had penises, and, last, incest, which was pardonable under NO circumstances. Why, nothing excusable could be derived from what I had just done! Aside from the actual offense, there was bound to be a lot of complications to arise from this. For instance, he could kick me out of the house by all means or, worse, resolve never to speak to me again…and why would that bother me?

Finally, he made a motion to sit up, to which I docilely set myself aside. If he wished to punch me in the jaw it would, from every point of view, appear just right. In fact, I'd permit it here and now should he grant me the freedom to declare our accounts settled. But he spoke not a word nor produced the smallest of sounds, and thereupon I gauged this was well beyond the degree of his experiences in life. His departure, mirthless and indicative of almost not a single thing, served to tell me that what had just transpired ought to be a secret only he and I would ever know.

My math class found me in a state of utter listlessness. I wasn't even in any condition to give a thought to the lethal gazes the whore was giving me. When the bell rang, however, my solitude ended, for here was Ulquiorra, dumping a set of printed shit on my table.

"What's this shit?" I asked.

"No idea. Yadomaru asked me to hand it to you."

"Why didn't that bitch give it to me personally?"

"Most likely because she hates you."

"Of course she doesn't." I argued for the heck of it. Lisa Yadomaru was manager of the football team, and her regard for the team members ranged from calling us jerks in and out of our earshot to working us like a fucking horse until we forgot our names. Sometimes, whenever we succeeded in getting her so apeshit angry, she'd hurl a boxful of cleats at our faces.

I scoffed and scanned the printed article. It had a warning scribbled on a post-it, which read: 'Do not lose your copy again. Or else.' Or else Lisa would snap my spinal column in half, simple as that. Anyway, the whole shit consisted of Mikasa Gakuen Tigers' stats. But Mikasa High School was located down Kinki region, which meant we would only be faced against them if they emerged as the Kinki representative and we as the Kanto representative. Moving on, the skills table of said team's Running Back / Safety rookie was highlighted by coach to emphasize a point.

Kira Izuru, Mikasa Gakuen Tigers, Sophomore, Jersey #32, Quarterback

Power / Tackle: C

Agility / Speed: B

Endurance : C

Technique: B

Leadership: A

Toshiro Hitsugaya, Mikasa Gakuen Tigers, Freshman, Jersey #10, Running Back / Safety

Power / Tackle: C

Agility / Speed: A+

Endurance : C

Technique: A+

Leadership: B

"Those are impressive figures." Ulquiorra was peering at the paper.

Determining all at once that he was referring to the rookie and not to the mediocre Quarterback, I scoffed. "Pffft. Toshiro Hitsugaya is known as the 'Tiger Cub', because he's a cute little infant among big boys."

"Maybe they're simply referring to his height and stature."

"Yeah, but this brat, I heard, is fifteen years old. Hisagi will slaughter him on the field, rest-assured." As if counting the matter as settled, I tucked the papers in my breast pocket. But a related topic shot off my mouth, "Anyway, do you happen to know if that Kicker bastard has any plans of rejoining the team?"

I was referring to the exact same dude whose absence in the team had of late been crippling our performance. The bastard's refusal to rejoin football had been responsible for more than half our losses last year, but it wasn't like you could demand people to participate in something as physically draining as football without expecting future desertion. This bastard, however, had the audacity to walk around like some lazy prick who had nothing to do with the team he had left behind. He simply knew no sympathy, no sense of… well, thoughts of him kinda made me wanna punch holes in the wall.

"No idea either. Anyway, you were calling me last Friday night. I'm sorry I missed the call; I was very busy. Did you need something?"

"Why am I not surprised? But I texted you. Didn't you receive it?" I asked.

"I don't read text messages."

"I needed to talk to you about something."

"Is it about your mom again?"

I'd have appreciated the hints of concern entailed in his words if it hadn't been for the monotony of tone he employed in them. But I was used to this by this time. We had, after all, known each other since we had been as little as Szayel. On the other hand, he perhaps didn't know what misfortune was committed to him for being my oldest friend.

"No."

"So it's about Shizuka-sensei?" He mentioned the whore's name entirely without distinction, as if she were merely a person who had very little to do with the recent causes of my distress.

"Something else. I'll tell ya all about it on your way home."

"Don't you have football practice?"

"Right, which means you're gonna walk me to the field. And you never watch my training drills. Some friend you call yourself."

"Whatever."

Four hours later, we found ourselves walking side by side within school grounds. He might've preferred to spend the after-school period alone and would rather rid himself of my presence if he could help it. To his misfortune, I was just exactly the sort of bastard who was very difficult to discard. To top this off, the female population of the school was ever so prone to throw him scowls whenever the sight of us together would greet them. Sometimes, as I was such a nasty bastard, I'd place an arm around his shoulder and smell his hair affectionately in full view of the women, just so to suggest dating any of them was so at the bottom of my list I'd sooner end up sleeping with the dude they hated so much. 'Cut it out' happened to be the most frequent line he had executed on me. Earlier this year, however, Ulquiorra had found his locker filled with stationeries with the word 'faggot' scribbled on every note. I'd have done my nuts if the bullying had affected him one bit but, as it was, he merely had cleared the shit out to let them notes slide down the floor without bothering to read any of them. This was perhaps part of the reason why I never dated any of my schoolmates.

And yet I was already having second thoughts about narrating to him the atrocity I had pulled on my new stepbrother, as well as the injury my negligence had incurred on my li'l bro.

"Tell me." He started, with so absolute an absence of interest that his coldness seemed intentional.

"Before anything else, I know you don't have friends other than me but I'm gonna have to ask you to enter a pact of silence."

"I don't talk, Grimmjow."

"Well, shit…"

"…"

"Ulquiorra, I'm in big fucking trouble. When I say 'big', count on it to be some irrevocable shit."

"Your mom discovered your porn stash—"

"—It's not that."

"Then it must be your marijuana stash."

"You know I haven't been getting my supply for donkey months now."

"Has she discovered you've been screwing a married woman for the last two years?"

"Nah, but fuck that."

"Have you gotten sensei pregnant?"

"I'm not sure and I don't fuckin' care, therefore it ain't that."

"It must be that Coach Muruguma has decided to remove you from captaincy."

"Fuck that. Coach would sooner find me murdered before that happens."

"Well, I suggest you say it straight."

"It's a fucking something I apparently can't keep bottling inside but I can't just unload it like some valueless secret."

"Time's up. I'm heading home."

"Wait, damn it. See, it's most likely the tightest pinch I've ever been in—"

"So you're basically telling me it isn't any of the aforementioned five and that it's apparently worse than them."

"Basically that."

If he had been somehow capable of evincing the slightest of facial expressions, he would most likely have scoffed derisively in his own pompous way. But, as things were, he merely pulled to a halt, looked at me square in the face, and rejoined,

"By far the worst, you say?"

"Yeah."

"Well, allow me to congratulate you, my friend, for being officially in deep shit."

I began to hope to hell it was his humor that was talking, and not his foresight which, on a side note, had always been infallibly genius. But then I remembered this bastard had no access whatsoever to something as nice as humor.

"Know what, perhaps I've changed my mind. I'll see you tomorrow. Ciao."

"Suit yourself."

He halted when the field came into view. The nod he next gave me was his signature announcement of departure. And so he turned to his heels, and for some reason it was almost a comfort to me. This past year appeared to have developed some side of Ulquiorra's character that I somehow liked. I always had known he was homosexual but that part of him had not taken on a more lasting form until late last year. Last year, I had started noticing his eyes. They had been ever so prone to veer toward… the fucking former Kicker, who also happened to be an uncaring prick—not that I was one to talk. Right then, I had known he was in love, or something like it. But since Ulquiorra's emotions never seemed to be in proportion with his actions, although there always was a shortage of both, nothing had come of the feeling he had been keeping. That fucking team-deserter would never know of it and would most likely receive it like he would yesterday's news. Perhaps the prick wouldn't even listen. Surely, my one and only friend was in for a huge heartbreak.

From my window, the sound of an unfamiliar car's engine could be discerned. When I looked down I found that the sight was off to disconcert me big time, for here was Ginjo Kugo's red Miata in front of my current residence, depositing my stepbrother on the doorstep. What it meant I couldn't tell. Perhaps these two school-buddies had a lot going on between them… and what the hell. To prevent further discomfort, I turned away. But, thirty minutes later, no sooner than I turned my TV on did I hear a knock on my door. Lazily I responded,

"Come in."

The door opened to reveal Szayel, his head tightly bandaged, and… Ichigo. With a sudden sharpness of movements I bolted upright, knocking a few soda cans on the floor, and looked away with an unnatural aversion. All in all, I looked exactly like a startled idiot. And then he spoke,

"Szayel wishes to play. I can't accommodate him right now because I'm having a few friends over for some school project. If you wish to play Guitar Hero, you can crash in my room for now. I'll just be downstairs" He recited, the consistency of his voice almost arresting me. It was as if he was more than determined not to allude to what had happened to us two nights before. And what was I expecting? It had been just a kiss, for crying out loud.

"Fine. Come, Szayel"

Ichigo prodded the boy gently toward me, before leaving with a final nod. And I, being always the last to realize my situation, kept my eyes fastened on his back until he disappeared into the fucking stairwell. Before long, Szayel was busying himself with Little Big Planet 2, while I resorted to lift weights in front of the window, if only to derail my mind off the stepbrother, who I had fucking kissed previously. On other matters, my li'l bro looked better now, and the more I think about it the more pronounced my debt to Dr. Kurosaki became. But I hated it, hated it like one would hate a debt he had no means of repaying.

Down on the courtyard, Ichigo and five of his friends were seated around a picnic table, bent over a few emergency lamps and what looked like a very lame art project. One of the three dudes, I recognized, was Karakura Gakuen Wolves' rookie Lineman, Sado Yasutora. At least Kugo hadn't tarried any longer because that would've been sick. But what an uninteresting sight it all was—until my disregard grew thin. As soon as one of the two girls, one whose breasts threatened to spill out of her neckline, rested her head on Ichigo's shoulder, I knew I was in for some sort of unwarranted agitation. Why, I couldn't tell. And yet I could tell that I was suddenly imagining myself running around the backyard, chasing chickens to wring their fucking necks! Not a minute later, in my mind, the chickens' heads started to morph into human heads—Ichigo's and his chick classmate's heads. Jesus, that was sick, not to mention immature. Anyway, I fancied the rift between me and my stepbrother had widened and grown colder. Again, I could not understand this feeling any more than I could decipher fucking hieroglyphics.

Having agreed with myself it was wrong to tarry in front of the window any longer, I dropped the weights and cast a last look at the six merry people. I was about to force my fucking self to draw away completely when Ichigo, as if feeling my gaze palpable, turned his head slightly around, and with scarcely any exertion gazed back straight at my window—at me. Our eyes must have met for a few seconds. So what if he had figured I had been watching them, him in particular? Didn't that mean he, in all assurances, also could not take his eyes off me? It was like we were waltzing around each other, playing this stupid stealing glances game. Still, I felt like a creep.

But mother had entered the room. At first I thought she was up to feed Szayel, but then she sat on my bed, empty-handed, whereas I sank into a seat beside my brother.

"How long before he takes this shit off his head?" I inquired, referring to li'l bro's bandages.

"One week or so."

"My bad." I muttered. This apology came unbidden, so that what I had been trying to express all along became clear to her.

"Can't be helped. For now we're all relieved he's faring excellently. Anyway, Grimmy, I need to talk to you." She said, her voice assuming a more delicate tone.

"About what?"

Because she was the type who would say directly what was in her mind, she spoke, unmindful of anyone who could possibly overhear our exchange,

"Your father; your biological father."

With a single sentence she managed to unnerve me a dozen ways. Thus established, I was left nearly gawking at her, emitting not a sound,

"…"

"I always thought he'd contact me sooner or later, but I didn't expect it to be this early. In any case, he wishes to meet you. Finally."

TBC

A/N: Yawn. Such a boring chapter. My problem is, this was written a long time ago. Whenever I'd reread it to see if it needs any rendition, I end up getting cold feet, so I'm just uploading it as it is. Anyway, how do ya find Bleach's latest chap? Every week I keep expecting Grimmjow to show up lol I miss the dude.