Chapter Text
Ichigo hummed as he looked around the empty room he stood in. Spacious, clean, and soon to be all his. He could already picture his things in various places, not to mention he’d finally have room to get new stuff if he wanted. Not that he was super materialistic, but a single bedroom worth of possessions was not going to fill a whole apartment.
He turned when he heard a throat clear behind him. The landlord, long dark hair in a ponytail and about his height, smiled benignly at him as he held out a keyring with three keys.
“Here you go, Mr. Kurosaki. Everything went through, the apartment is now officially yours. The silver key is for this apartment, the copper one opens the front door of the building itself, and the little one will let you into the laundry room on the ground floor.”
Ichigo grinned as he accepted the keyring, noticing a spider tattoo on the other man’s wrist.
“Thanks, Mr. Onigumo! I’m excited to get my stuff moved in.”
After his new landlord had left, Ichigo continued his examination of the apartment. He’d seen most of it on his two walkthroughs while deciding on his new home, but now that it was officially his, he felt confident in exploring it in detail.
It wasn’t a big apartment, but still nice for a young man starting out on his own. A single bedroom, a decent living room, and a small but functional kitchen. The bathroom was a bit cramped with the sink, toilet, and shower occupying the small space, but it wasn’t like Ichigo would be sharing it with anyone.
At that thought, Ichigo felt his smile tightening into something brittle. Taking a deep breath and letting it out with a slight shake of his head, he resumed his exploration, trying to ignore the way his enthusiasm had flagged.
Grimmjow watched as the exit of the Garganta opened, bright daylight spilling into the jagged rip. Stepping out, he breathed in deep of the Living World’s air, slightly tainted with human pollution but still far fresher than the sandy despair that permeated Hueco Mundo’s atmosphere of unending night.
He stood midair for a few moments, pesquisa open and scanning the city. Not feeling the vibrant reiatsu he was looking for, Grimmjow scowled in displeasure.
Where the fuck is he? He’s not the type to hide…
Before he could think further on that, one of the reiatsus that he could sense surged in his direction, steel determination thrumming in the energy. There wasn’t any killing intent, but a definite readiness.
Grimmjow didn’t have time to get impatient - within moments, a man appeared in front of him. He had shaggy ash blond hair, and a green and white outfit that vaguely resembled a Shinigami shihakusho and captain’s haori. And a ridiculous striped hat that Grimmjow wanted to shred for some reason.
“Who th’fuck are you? Actually, what are you? You feel like a Shinigami but different.”
The man gave him a slow smile, tilting his hat.
“Name’s Kisuke Urahara, former Shinigami. I’m afraid I’m little more than a humble shopkeeper these days.”
Grimmjow narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth.
“Humble shopkeeper, huh? The last time I heard that much bullshit in one sentence, it came from Aizen’s mouth.”
Urahara tilted his head, tone carefully casual.
“Well, considering Aizen hasn’t been able to bullshit anyone in about three years, I’d say he’s a terrible standard to base your trust on.”
Grimmjow was about to snap back that he didn’t trust anyone, when the rest of the statement caught up to him.
Three years?
Mentally setting that information aside, Grimmjow cocked his head at the ‘shopkeeper’ and frowned.
“Then Kurosaki did it? He defeated that lunatic?”
Urahara’s expression tightened with something undefinable, but he nodded slowly.
“Not alone, and it cost him a great deal, but yes, Aizen was defeated and currently sits in the lowest level of the Seireitei’s most secure prison.”
Grimmjow felt his brows draw together, and he took a step forward, barely registering the other man’s fingers twitching on his cane.
“What do you mean, it fucking cost him? What happened to Kurosaki?”
Urahara watched him for a long moment, assessing gray eyes flicking over his hair, his mask, and the hole in his abdomen.
“Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, I presume. Ichigo said if you survived, that you might come looking for him. Looking for a fight, he said, and seemed awfully hopeful about it…”
A low growl escaped Grimmjow’s throat.
“Ok, so you know who I am, good for you. Now tell me what’s wrong with Kurosaki - why can’t I fucking sense him? This is his shitty little town, isn’t it?”
The former Shinigami sighed, gaze drifting across the small city below them.
“Yes, you are in the right place. But I’m afraid Ichigo won’t be able to give you that fight he said he promised you.”
Grimmjow felt something cold and hard form in his core.
“The fuck you mean by that?!”
Urahara looked at him again, features tight with something resembling regret.
“He sacrificed every drop of spiritual power he possessed to help bring Aizen down. He’s completely blind and deaf to anything that doesn’t belong in this world.”
Grimmjow felt himself go pale.
“No,” he said, barely a whisper. “You… you’re fucking lying!”
Urahara shook his head, hand tightening on his cane.
“Unfortunately for all of us, I’m telling the truth. Ichigo Kurosaki is currently living as a human.”
Grimmjow felt himself trembling with anger, and he quickly shoved his shaking fists in his pockets.
“Where is he?”
Urahara’s blond brows jumped up to disappear under his hat.
“Now, I’m afraid that wouldn’t be information that would be safe to share with you in your current state. While I and several others in this town would be willing and able to face you, Ichigo wouldn’t even know you were coming, much less that you were about to attack.”
Grimmjow scowled, his eyes leaving the shopkeeper to move over the buildings below as he tried to get his words together.
“Not gonna attack him, not when he can’t even… fucking… I just wanna see him. For myself.”
Urahara gazed at him for a long moment, gray eyes assessing him once again. Grimmjow had to make a conscious effort not to fidget, forcing himself to stay still.
“Will you give your word that you won’t attempt to harm him?”
Grimmjow blinked, taken off-guard.
“You’d trust me just on my word?”
Urahara gave him a small smile.
“I can assure you that Ichigo made it quite clear that you were an asshole. However, he was equally insistent that you were the most honorable asshole he ever fought.”
Grimmjow felt something strange and warm slither through his core.
“Fine, then. I give you my word, I won’t try to hurt Kurosaki.”
Urahara gave a little head-tilt, then began sailing through the air towards the eastern section of the small city. Grimmjow followed closely, keeping his eyes on the man ahead and his pesquisa open.
A few minutes later, they stopped near a tall building with several dozen weak human souls inside. Urahara turned to him, eyes narrowed slightly.
“While I do trust your word, Grimmjow, I feel it would be in everyone’s best interest to warn you… if you break your word, there’s nowhere you’ll be able to hide.”
Grimmjow felt a chill race up his spine, but then Urahara smiled and pointed at the building.
“Ichigo’s apartment is those two windows in the middle, three floors up.”
Grimmjow hesitated for only a moment before using a burst of sonido to approach the windows. The first one looked into a room with a couch, table, and several boxes in various states of fullness. Grimmjow moved to the other window, and froze with a sharp inhale.
Kurosaki was sitting on the edge of a bed, back mostly turned to the window. But there was no mistaking the brightness of that ridiculous orange hair, now long enough to be mostly contained in a small ponytail.
Grimmjow swallowed tightly, facing the truth that even with his rival in front of him, he still couldn’t feel him. Turning slightly, Grimmjow looked to where Urahara still stood, making a gesture at his own chest then at the window.
When the other man shrugged, Grimmjow stepped through the glass of the closed window and into Kurosaki’s bedroom.
The familiar scent filled his lungs as he landed lightly on the floor, eyes searching the human’s face. Kurosaki was rifling through a small box, completely unaware of Grimmjow’s presence.
Familiar amber eyes lifted, passing right over him, right through him. Grimmjow frowned, moving closer with light steps, only to twitch away when the human abruptly stood and almost walked right into him.
Watching with a scowl as Kurosaki fiddled with shit on his desk, Grimmjow sighed.
“Can’t believe you had to sacrifice it all…”
Ichigo turned his head, looking between things on his desk and making his little ponytail sway. Grimmjow zeroed in on the ponytail, a mischievous smirk baring his teeth. He reached forward and caught the orange tail, giving a small but deliberate tug.
Ichigo spun around, eyes wide as his hand flew to his ponytail. Amber eyes flicked around the room as he spoke hesitantly.
“Is someone there?”
Grimmjow knew Ichigo couldn’t hear him, but he answered anyway.
“If I was here to kill you, you’d be dead already, and you don’t even realize that, do you? Lucky you got that weird hat guy watching out for you.”
Ichigo looked around for another moment before sighing, shoulders dropping as he muttered to himself.
“Didn’t think so. Three years, you’d think I’d stop getting my stupid hopes up.”
The human turned back to his desk, his movements stiffer and jerkier than before. Frowning, Grimmjow moved closer to see that Ichigo’s features were drawn in a tight, disappointed expression.
Grimmjow turned and walked over to where he could see out the window. Searching the sky, he didn’t see the shopkeeper Shinigami anymore. Focusing on his pesquisa, he located the cryptic man further away, nearly a mile if his perception of distance was the same here as it was in Hueco Mundo.
Grimmjow glanced over at Ichigo again, tilting his head thoughtfully as he watched the human return to sitting on the edge of the bed.
“He’s protective of you, but apparently trusts me… because you said I was honorable,” he murmured to himself, watching as Ichigo shifted to lay down with a sigh. Amber eyes stared up at the ceiling, missing the fire that Grimmjow had used as his motivation for the last three years.
“You deserve better than this, Kurosaki. Fucking hell, you saved three worlds from being destroyed by Aizen, and you don’t even get to see two-thirds of them. Fucking tragic bastard, you’re a phenomenon trapped in shitty human skin.”
Stepping closer to the bed, he watched as Ichigo gave another sigh before rolling onto his side, facing the wall.
Grimmjow hesitated for a moment, then reached out and tugged the small ponytail twice before quickly pulling away. Ichigo tensed, going rigid and not breathing. Slowly, Grimmjow backed away from the bed, gaze jumping to the window and the bedroom door.
With a sigh, he stepped up into the air, stalking through the empty space above Ichigo’s bed. Throwing one last glance at the younger man that was staring at the wall, he spoke quietly.
“I’m gonna be back, Kurosaki… you have my word, too.”
Ichigo was incredibly tempted to call a mental hospital by the end of the week. But the thought of trying to add context for what was happening made him laugh bitterly whenever he thought about it.
First of all, he had a whole lot of nothing as proof that he could show anyone else that anything weird or supernatural was even happening. It had started with tugs on his hair, varying between barely-noticeable movements to near-yanking that would make his head rock a couple inches. It didn’t ever hurt, the sharp tugs seemed to always involve his ponytail where the pressure was spread out, while his spiky strays only ever got small plucks.
Those went on for two and a half days, until Ichigo had snapped out loud in frustration that he was going to shave his head if the tugs didn’t stop.
There had been a defiant final tug, a slow, firm one that kept his head tipped back for several long, uneasy seconds. Then he’d been released, and the pulling hadn’t resumed.
But then the moving shit had started. Multiple times a day, Ichigo would see something from the corner of his eye shift, just a little, just enough to snag his attention so his gaze would snap in that direction, eyeing the now-unmoving object and the space around it.
Doors he was certain he left open ended up closed, while doors he knew he closed before bed would be standing open come dawn.
And if he found one more shirt in his closet turned inside out, he was going to scream.
It’d been a week since the weird things had started, and Ichigo was a mess of fear, sadness, and anger. Whatever or whoever was messing with him hadn’t bothered to give him a single clue as to who they were. And that hurt, that so much effort could be put into freaking him out and making him doubt his sanity, with zero effort to reveal themselves.
Then Ichigo was sitting at his desk one evening, looking at his work schedule for the coming days. He had a few shifts coming up, nothing overwhelming, but he still looked forward to the days off. Not that he’d be doing much besides staring at the wall and lowkey spiraling over his supernatural antagonist.
Rubbing his face with a sigh, he pushed away from the desk… or at least, he tried to. His chair didn’t budge an inch. Frowning, he glanced at the floor around the wheels of his chair, not seeing anything that would be stopping them.
Then a sound had his attention whipping back to the desk, eyes growing wide as ten claw marks appeared on his desk, a set of five to either side of where he sat.
Ichigo felt panic swelling in him, eyes fixed on the sharp furrows now carved into the solid wooden desk.
Whatever was here, was right behind his chair and had to have leaned over him to claw his desk like that.
Grimmjow watched with amusement, as well as the concern that had been slowly growing in him for the last week, as Ichigo hunched in on himself a bit, clearly realizing where Grimmjow was, if not who he was. The human raised a hand to cover the back of his neck in an instinctive gesture, taking deliberately slow breaths that were still shaky.
“Ok… ok so this is happening…” The human barely touched the splinters around one of the claw marks, then snatched his hand back.
“If you were a shinigami, you could have gotten a gigai from Kisuke, yeah? And you probably wouldn’t have clawed my desk… But if you were an actual enemy, I’d already be dead, right? Unless you’re just playing mind games like Aizen… oh my god please don’t be Aizen!”
Grimmjow watched as Ichigo frantically scrambled out of his chair and onto his desk, turning to face him with an expression of utter revulsion and cocking a leg to aim a kick at Grimmjow’s chest.
Grimmjow caught the human’s ankle mid-kick, seeing amber eyes widen. Definitely not wanting Ichigo to mistake him for Aizen, he released the slim ankle and leaned forward to flick the younger man in the forehead.
Ichigo immediately scowled, rubbing his forehead as he muttered in a mutinous voice, “Ok, not Aizen, got it. I still know - well, I used to know a lot of people, so that doesn’t narrow it down much.”
Grimmjow sighed as he enacted the plan he’d been thinking of for days. He reached out and grabbed the human’s left wrist, fully expecting the gasped “What the fuck?!” and the frantic tugging that followed as Ichigo tried to get his hand free of an invisible grip.
But the human wasn’t strong enough to escape Grimmjow’s hold, so he was careful not to tighten his grip on the relatively fragile wrist as he lifted the twitching hand to his mask. He could tell the moment Ichigo felt the bone under his fingers, because the desperate struggle stopped completely, fingers going totally slack with shock.
Then they moved, tracing the shape of his mask with hopeful curiosity. Ichigo’s eyes flew wide as a soft exclamation of “Grimmjow?!” escaped him, then he was hurriedly scrambling off his desk until the slightly smaller man was standing nearly chest to chest with Grimmjow, fingers eagerly tracing the edges and teeth of his mask. The human’s other hand came up to cup his bare left cheek as he smiled with a relieved excitement that was nearly palpable.
“I thought you were dead, Grimmjow! Holy shit, I’ve never been so happy to be wrong!”
Suddenly, the younger man froze, then hastily pulled his hands away and stepped back as far as he could with the desk still behind him.
“Sorry, that was a lot. I’m just… really glad you’re here.”
Confused by Ichigo’s enthusiasm, Grimmjow reached past him to tap the desk, drawing the human’s attention to the claw-marks.
Ichigo looked at them, sighing and biting his lip.
“Grimmjow, you’re the first person to come visit me… that I know of, anyway. You’re definitely the first person to make contact. It’s been three years since Aizen - believe me, even if you’re doing weird aggressive shit and wrecking some of my stuff, I’m still so glad to see you. Perceive you, whatever, you get my point.”
Then the human dipped his head, shame flooding his scent as he continued softly. “That’s pretty pathetic, isn’t it? That I’m so lonely and desperate for supernatural contact that I’m happy to have what amounts to a fucking invisible bully.”
Grimmjow caught a faint salty scent, immediately hating its presence in Ichigo’s scent. He reached out to touch the human’s shoulder, but Ichigo flinched from the unexpected contact, wide amber eyes flicking around him without fixing on anything as he shifted further away until he hit the wall between his desk and bed.
Grimmjow just watched him for a moment, the way dark honey eyes searched desperately but fruitlessly, fists shaking but not raised, breathing fast through flared nostrils as he clearly resisted the instinctive urge to pant in fear.
Ichigo was ready to fight back if he needed to, but still terrified of an attack he wouldn’t see coming anyway.
Most of the memories Grimmjow had, he felt powerful in them, stronger than other people that the memories included. Usually by a significant margin. And that was just fine with him.
But this… Grimmjow felt powerful in a different way, and it was a fucking sickening feeling.
He didn’t want this kind of power over Ichigo. Nobody deserved to be able to cause the heroic little bastard this kind of fear.
Three years, alone… that’d be fine for me, but not for him…
Grimmjow took a deep breath, then reached out and carefully laid his hand along Ichigo’s jaw.
The human froze like a statue, wide amber eyes staring through the center of Grimmjow’s chest as Ichigo held his breath. A couple of moments passed, both of them quiet and still.
Then, slowly, Ichigo let out a shaky breath, relaxing just enough to barely press his cheek against Grimmjow’s palm.
Grimmjow watched with interest as Ichigo’s hand came up, fingers tentatively closing around his wrist. The younger man looked as though the invisible touch meant everything to him. Realizing how desperate Ichigo was for contact, Grimmjow impulsively brought his other hand up so he was basically cradling the lower half of Ichigo’s face.
Ichigo looked surprised, and a little confused, but he didn’t tense up again as his other hand came up to hold that wrist. Uncertain whiskey-dark eyes slowly traveled upwards to hover close to Grimmjow’s mask.
Looking into Ichigo’s face, and fervently wishing the human could see him, Grimmjow absently brushed his thumbs across his cheeks, feeling the faint grit of salt from dried tears. He barely realized he was even doing it until Ichigo’s cheeks grew warm and red.
The wide amber eyes dropped from near his mask to stare through his chest for a moment before darting off to the side. His soft cheeks were so invitingly warm under his thumbs.
“Ummm, Gr-Grimmjow?”
At the uncertain whisper, Grimmjow paused and started to pull away, just for Ichigo’s fingers to tighten around his wrists.
“Wait! Just…” Ichigo released one wrist to snatch a notepad and pen off his desk. “Tell me why you came here?” he asked, holding the notepad between them awkwardly.
Grimmjow hesitated, frowning thoughtfully at the small pad of paper. When he didn’t take it, Ichigo frowned, reaching further to blindly slap the notepad against Grimmjow’s chest. His loosely-focused eyes were full of desperate hope as they searched for him.
“Please, Grimmjow?” His voice was somehow shaking and determined at the same time.
Grimmjow took the pad and pen, practically feeling the wave of relief that made Ichigo sag against the wall behind him.
Came here for our fight.
Then he handed the pad to the human. When Ichigo saw his answer, he smiled, a broken little thing. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. I’m sorry that I broke my word, I… I don’t know if you know, but I had to sacrifice my power, all of it, to help stop Aizen. We needed to stop him.”
Grimmjow took the pad back, deciding not to mention meeting Urahara when he had arrived above the town, or the few meetings he’d had with the shopkeeper since. Instead, his answer was simple, and would hopefully lessen the guilt Ichigo was clearly dealing with.
I understand.
Ichigo blinked at those words for a moment before giving a slightly stronger smile. “Thanks, I appreciate that. I know you probably still don’t forgive me for breaking my promise, but it’s a relief just to know that I got to explain why I had to. I… I was looking forward to fighting you again, Grimmjow, I really was, and I’m sorry I can’t.”
The human’s eyes dropped to the floor, that sad scent building again. Before the salty smell of tears could return, Grimmjow scribbled, Stop apologizing.
Then lightly slapped Ichigo on the head with the pad before showing him the page. As soon as he knew the human had read the message, Grimmjow added, You did what you had to in order to stop that fuckface.
Ichigo gave a small smile as he read, then bit his lip.
“Can I ask another question?”
Grimmjow waved the pen a little, then poised it over the paper. Ichigo stared at the pen as he spoke softly.
“I’m sure you could tell I was powerless the moment you saw me, so why’d you stick around all week? And why’d you reveal yourself to me?”
Grimmjow smirked as he wrote, That’s 2 questions…
Ichigo blushed, biting his lip, and Grimmjow wrote:
- Stuck around because it was fun to tease you and watch you freak out.
Ichigo smirked a bit. “That tracks.” Grimmjow tilted the pad as he continued:
- Revealed myself when I realized how sad and scared you actually were and it stopped being fun.
Grimmjow paused before adding more.
And clawing your desk was the last thing, not gonna fuck with you like I have been anymore. Not with a goal of freaking you out.
Ichigo’s eyes got so big when he saw that answer. “That’s… unexpected.”
He tilted his head at the words like he was trying to see them from other perspectives before saying anything else.
“That’s very unexpected, Grimmjow, but ok. So, no more weird haunting stuff?”
Nah, at least nothing to scare you. I’ll find a way to annoy you that you can have a little fun with too.
While Ichigo was reading that, Grimmjow experimentally gave a gentle tug on one of the soft orange spikes that framed the human’s face. He smiled when Ichigo laughed.
“That, I’m fine with - I’m not nearly as freaked out knowing it’s you. Actually… I’m probably ok with most of the shit you’ve been doing - as long as I know it’s you, I’m not scared.”
Grimmjow lightly tugged the strands again, then impulsively smoothed them back behind Ichigo’s ear. The human bit his lip, honey eyes peeking up to instinctively search for him.
Deciding to try something, Grimmjow set the pad on the desk, then gently grabbed Ichigo’s left hand like he had earlier. Unlike earlier, Ichigo didn’t struggle or protest, just watched his own hand be guided through the air.
Grimmjow carefully pressed the human’s palm against his mask, watching the honey eyes blink in confusion. Then they went wide with realization, and the soft fingers began tentatively tracing the top edge of his mask. The look of focus on the ginger’s face would have been intimidating if he’d had a drop of power in him.
As it was, Grimmjow was subject to that intense gaze trying to map the mask his fingers were tracing. Grimmjow’s thoughts were in a loop of ‘C’mon, Kurosaki… you can do it…’
Then the amber eyes carefully moved over from the mask, looking into, or rather through, Grimmjow’s right eye.
Smiling, Grimmjow gently squeezed the hand on his mask, two fast little squeezes to try to tell Ichigo what he was accomplishing.
The human’s expression brightened with a smile, fingertips tenderly brushing the top edge of his mask closest to his eye. Then the younger man blushed, biting his lip as he very carefully pulled his hand out from under Grimmjow’s fingers.
“Ahh, thank you, but umm that probably has, like, a limit or something, don’t wanna use it all up on the first day…”
Grimmjow watched as Ichigo glanced aside, looking downright shy as he spoke barely above a whisper.
“Y’know… I don’t feel like you pity me or look down on me, even though I’m powerless now? This… I may not be your equal anymore, not even close, but… you still respect me, huh? At least a little?”
Strangely pleased by Ichigo’s assessment, Grimmjow felt a wide grin baring his teeth. And even though he couldn’t see the grin, an answering smile formed on the human’s face.