Angry at the World

Kurosaki Isshin stared morosely at his half-filled cold cup of coffee.

“Why is it such a slow day at the clinic,” he whined to himself. He had seen two patients all day, and now it had started to drizzle. His office computer didn’t have any games on it, and he was getting desperate enough to look longingly at the newspaper crossword. He pouted and balanced a pen on its tip. He couldn’t even bug the kids, since they were at school. And the last time he’d tried to take them out of school for a family outing, it hadn’t gone well. Karin and Ichigo had abused his poor ears for an hour about being an irresponsible parent.

Kids these days didn’t know how to have fun.

BANGBANGBANG~!

He perked up and dropped the pen. Patients! Why they wouldn’t just walk in he didn’t know, but he didn’t care. He gleefully swung the door wide open. “Welcome to Kurosaki clinic!” He looked up. Oh. Oh my.

A tall and well muscled man stood in his doorway. He wore a dark blue dress shirt and ragged jeans. He was also wet, and he didn’t look happy about it. In fact, his expression was downright intimidating and angry; malice radiated away from him and pressed down on Isshin, making him feel uneasy. Most curious of all, his hair and eyes were a brilliant shade of blue.

And he was carrying his son in his arms. What?!

“Uh…” He stared. Ichigo was unconscious, and bandages covered his arms and face, peeking out from beneath his clothes. The man holding him had his head pressed to his chest, and was bent over somewhat to protect him from the rain.

“Yo,” the man said casually, “You Kurosaki?” He brushed past Isshin while looking around.

“…What is the meaning of this?! What’s wrong with Ichigo!?” He threw his hands up in the air.

“Chill old man. He’s fine,” he still inspected the place instead of looking at Isshin while he talked. How rude!

“What happened? And who the hell are you!?” He burst out.

“Where can I shove ‘im? I’m gettin’ kinda tired a’ carryin’ his ass around. I need a place to crash too,” he said casually, finally turning to look at Isshin.

“Are you some kind of vagrant? A gang member? A yakuza?” He crossed his arms. “I can’t have someone like you staying in my home and corrupting my son!” The stranger looked at him, decidedly un-amused and beginning to sneer. “…His rooms that way, up the stairs” Isshin pointed with a sniff. The man grinned.

“Good call. I’ll take care a’ Ichigo, so don’t blow a coronary old man,” he said while walking away. Isshin straightened, and spoke more seriously.

“If you hurt my son, I’ll kill you,” he said. The man stopped. Kurosaki Isshin wasn’t as blind as he seemed. Then the stranger gave him a thumbs up and a grin, and walked away.

The Spirit World gave him such a headache.

~

Ichigo kept his eyes closed as he slowly woke. He could hear the soft tapping of rain against his window pane, and the hum of a small fan. The air was humid and thick, which made his bandages even more uncomfortable. Who had taken him home? His eyes flickered open.

“’Ey,” said a familiar voice beside his bed. He slowly turned his head to look, and blinked several times. It was Grimmjow, but it wasn’t Grimmjow. He wore regular clothes with color, and no part of a Hollow mask obscured his face. It made him look handsome, even with his bizarre hair and eyes.

“This a dream?” He asked. His tongue felt thick and it made his speech slow. Dammit, it made him sound stupid.

“Dream? Hell no. You’re home, can’t you tell?” Grimmjow asked abrasively.

“Course I can, but what’s up with your face?” He questioned back, voice heavy with sarcasm. “Who gave you a Gigai? That is a Gigai?” Grimmjow suddenly looked a little cowed, and rubbed his chin where his mask normally sat.

“Well, ah, y’see…” Ichigo’s brows shot together.

“No, I don’t see. The fuck are you doing in my house? Did you hurt my family!? Did you take off my clothes?!” Grimmjow slammed his hands down on his thighs.

“Shut it with the fifth degree Kurosaki, I saved your life!” He replied with a sneer. “I had to find somebody to heal your ass who wouldn’t try’n kill me, so I took you to that Sandal hat guy,” he said.

“Urahara-san!?”

“Yeah. I just explained the whole situation to ‘im—“ Ichigo interrupted.

“And just what is the whole situation!?” Grimmjow glared at him.

“That you were about to die and that I needed a way to stay on Earth so it wouldn’t happen again. He was pretty understanding and hooked me up with this stupid body and these clothes,” he said while tugging at his collar. “He said he would send more once I was more settled here…” He scowled. “He’s a fuckin’ weirdo, by the way.”

“No shit Sherlock,” he replied caustically. Jesus fuck Urahara, what have you done? “So you seem to think you’re staying with me.”

“I am,” Grimmjow said with a snarl. “You’re hurt. You can’t make me leave. And I ain’t about to let some other Espada come up in here and kill you, or let that thing take over your body again. Nothin’ is gonna hurt you.” The Arrancar’s conviction scared him.

“…What…What’s with you?” Ichigo asked uneasily. “You’re on the other fuckin’ side.”

“Don’t you get it yet Ichigo!?” He cried and stood up, and then began to pace. “Don’t you fuckin’ get it?” He stared at him and didn’t say anything more. He felt his breath shorten; his gaze was making him uncomfortable. “…Whatever you think of me, I’m yours. Do you get it?” What…what the hell did he mean? Was the Espada trying to tell him he…? He couldn’t. They didn’t, especially not Grimmjow.

Grimmjow saw the fear in his face, and his own expression grew angry and desperate. “I need you Kurosaki, do you fuckin’ get it!? I can’t let you turn into me! I can stop it from happening, nobody else can! I need you!” He took him by the shoulders and shook. This wasn’t happening, it wasn’t. “Me holdin’ you, tryin’ to help you, it didn’t mean a damn thing…?” he… needed help? He had kept dismissing that tenderness as some sort of…crazy indulgence the Espada gave himself for laughs. Even now though, he was sitting here and not trying to kill him. He’d stopped trying to kill him when he saw him awhile ago. The instinct barely remained. Maybe… Ichigo swallowed.

“…It meant something… But how am I supposed to feel when it comes from someone like you!?” Grimmjow didn’t seem to be bothered by the last part. Relief crossed his face and his eyes closed. He rested his forehead against Ichigo’s shoulder.

“Remember…I told you everything would be alright…” What kind of Hollow ever said anything like that? In that Gigai, Grimmjow seemed more human than ever, and it squeezed his heart uncomfortably tight. He was like a newborn adult, exposed to emotions he didn’t know how to handle. And he was the…fortunate or unfortunate recipient of those feelings.

How could he despise someone so much like himself?

Grimmjow moved his face from his shoulder closer to his own, his lips barely brushing against his skin. Ichigo’s throat constricted in fear and his muscles tightened. But he didn’t kiss him. He just sighed, his lips close to his but not touching, and pulled away and collapsed into the chair beside his bed.

“…Better not mention that to anybody, Ichigo,” he said quietly.

“Who would believe me?” he replied, voice mutinous. Grimmjow laughed darkly. After that, they both sat in silence. Grimmjow would get up to study something in his room every once in awhile, but Ichigo stayed in bed and listened to the rain. It was peaceful, but he didn’t know if he could ever learn to like it. At least he was safe inside. Inside his room. With his closet. Rukia.

Shit.

Ichigo sat up in a flash and started climbing out of bed. “Rukia! Has she been here already?! You didn’t do anything to her did you?!”

“Stop thinkin’ I’m gonna kill all your friends!” Grimmjow said angrily. “Besides maybe the red-haired one with the big mouth, but goddammit he’s just askin’ for it.”

“…That’s true, but don’t actually kill him. And what about Rukia, dammit?” Grimmjow leaned back in his chair and grinned.

“The short chick right? She showed up at Sandal Hat’s place, yellin’ up a storm about some other Shinigami needin’ some help. She saw me a’ course’n flipped out, drawin’ and releasin’ her Zanpakutou. I was gonna s’plain things to her, but—“ Ichigo snorted, and Grimmjow flipped him off. “But Hatface got in the way and played it off as no big deal. I even put my sword in the corner to show ‘er I didn’t mean any harm.”

“I’m surprised she believed you,” Ichigo said. He walked to his desk on wobbly legs, testing how sore his body was.

“She didn’t, stayed pretty suspicious the whole time. She almost flipped out again when she found out I’d be stayin’ with ya,” he continued with a grin. “That was the best part. I moved Hatface outta the way and knelt down in her little Shinigami face and told her what’s what.”

“Stop trying to sound so damn tough. So far you just sound like a bitch,” Ichigo commented, and rubbed the bandage on his nose.

“Shut up, story shitter. Anyways, she’s all ‘I cannot let a monster like you stay with Ichigo!’ Then I says, ‘hey Shinigami bitch, you’re not kickin’ me out, I’m kickin’ you out, cause what kinda woman stays in a teenage boys closet!?’ That’s some invasion of privacy there, I mean guys got needs afterall and it’s pretty surprisin’ she hasn’t caught you jackin’ it yet…”

“WHAT?! You said that to her?!” Grimmjow smirked.

“Yeah, and I then I said, it definitely wouldn’t work with two guys, ‘specially since I’m a horny bastard. Then I winked at her and she got all red and stuttery. Pretty damn funny.”

“That’s not funny at all!” Ichigo scratched at his hair in frustration.

“Eh… I ‘splained some of the other stuff too. I think she gets it. She’ll be mentionin’ me to the other Shinigami bastards too.”

“Ugh… They’re not going to be happy…” He limped back to his bed and collapsed back into it.

“They ain’t got much of a choice.”

“Tch, I know that. You’re a real thorn in my side.”

“A sexy, helpful thorn.”

“Shut up, Christ.”

“Ah, fuck the attitude or I’m stealin’ that bed.”

“Hell no, this is my bed and I’m the one who’s injured!”

“Tch… I’m too small to fit in that damn closet.”

“I’ll ask my dad to find you a pallet or something, you baby.”

“You’re getting on my nerves, Ichigo.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“That’s it,” Grimmjow declared. Ichigo looked up at him quizzically. Then Grimmjow took a pillow, and slammed it down on Ichigo’s face. “No more talking!”

“Mmph! Gffmmt! Gerroff!” Ichigo flailed, and then glared once the Arrancar removed the pillow. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, in the same way you hate everybody else,” Grimmjow replied, waving his hand dismissively.

“…Just…Don’t pretend you already know everything about me, dammit,” he said while turning onto his side. This attitude that the Espada had, that he knew him so well, it was grating on him. It wasn’t true.

“…You’re right. But it’s just another reason to be here,” he said, and punched him lightly on the back, as a friend might. “Now go to bed and dream about killin’ somebody else, how ‘bout?”

“Most people on Earth say something like ‘sweet dreams’, y’know,” he said acerbically. Grimmjow would dream about killing people. Zaraki probably did too.

“I’d think you’re more likely to dream about fightin’ …Though I had my first dream, and it weren’t about fightin’. It weren’t nice at all,” he said slowly. His first dream, huh. Sometimes Ichigo forgot that despite his apparent age and knowledge, Grimmjow hadn’t really been in existence all that long.

“What was it about?” He asked, still not facing him.

“…More of a nightmare, I s’pose. I don’t want to remember it more’n I already do,” he replied. That the Espada could be so terrifying in battle and yet disturbed by a dream was so strange. Just another thing that made him seem more than an Arrancar but more than a Human.

“…I know the feeling. If you keep having dreams, they’ll probably be better,” Ichigo said, and closed his eyes.

“They better be,” he said while looking at Ichigo. “I can only handle so many revelations at once,” he drawled.

“Mmhmm,” Ichigo replied sleepily. The corners of Grimmjow’s mouth twitched.

“… ‘Sweet dreams.’”

“…Pussy.”

“Faggot!”

“The faggot you want to fuck, faggot.”

“Shut the fuck up and go to bed.”

~


Kuchiki Rukia sat on a pallet in the Urahara shop, chewing a piece of straw and hugging her knees. She usually knew how to approach problems, even ones that seemed insurmountable. There was always a best course of action and a logical path to follow. But her new problem wasn’t logical. The Espada that had injected himself into their lives was crude, willful, unpredictable, passionate and stronger than any Shinigami currently in Karakura. And if what she had seen and been told by Urahara was to be trusted, he had a raging crush paired with a raging savior complex for Ichigo.

“Rukia-chan, please calm yourself for one moment and think about what is actually going on!” Urahara had muttered at her through a cheerful smile when she had first entered and threatened the Arrancar. “Our guest was involved in an altercation with our little Shinigami and has a fervent desire to save him, you see?” He’d snapped his fan open for emphasis.

She had stared at him grudgingly for an excruciatingly long moment before sheathing her sword. That’s when she’d looked over to really study Grimmjow. He was sitting close to Ichigo’s body, and when she had released her zanpakutou, he had half stood, crouching over him protectively. He looked feral, as if she were encroaching in his territory. Mine. Mine, mine, mine, she practically felt him saying the words. His reiatsu had pulsed out towards her threateningly, and she had never had so many emotions communicated to her at once. It reeked of jealousy, desire, and fear. It was all over…Ichigo?

She spat out the piece of straw, and began to chew on a thumbnail instead. A bad habit. A bad, human habit, but it was less annoying than fidgeting.

That part still mystified her. Why Ichigo? He’d demanded that she leave his residence, and he be allowed to stay. He’d declared just as vehemently that no other Arrancar would ever touch Ichigo. He didn’t say why, but the look in his eyes clearly communicated violence. She wondered if anyone else saw the Espada for what he was.

Watching him made her afraid. He felt almost every emotion in its purest form, and that was something to be afraid of. Those feelings danced with power behind his eyes every time she looked at him. He was a man of absolutes. What he could do to Ichigo… Sooner or later he would be burned by the fire that was the heart of Jeagerjacques.

She’d once compared Ichigo to a faucet, but now Ichigo was an ocean; everyone was constantly aware of him and the wrath and damage he was capable of, but just as often he was dependable and beautiful and serene. Anyone Ichigo formed a relationship with had to be his rock to secure that serenity. And if Grimmjow was the earth for Ichigo, just as omnipresent and strong as the ocean, sooner or later the volatile Grimmjow would quake, and the results for everyone would be terrifying.

For once, Kuchiki Rukia saw no way to avoid the tsunami that threatened to engulf them all.

“BOO!” Fingers attacked and tickled her sides and she shrieked and fell over.

“RENJI!” She shot up from the floor, hands balled into fists. Renji was laughing.

“You looked so serious, I couldn’t help it! I’ll get you again!” He grinned evilly and wriggled his fingers.

“I looked serious because something important happened, you monkey!” She frowned and tugged her outfit straight.

“Hey, you can’t call me a monkey. It’s insulting enough when Byakuya uses it, both Kuchikis don’t need to adopt it,” He said and crossed his arms.

“…Sorry,” she sighed. She knew being called a monkey was a bit of a sore spot for Renji. “I’m a little stressed out.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Renji noted dryly. “I thought I’d give you a little relief from the heavy thinkin’,” he said and sat down.

“You were fighting Arrancar earlier. Everyone was, and I couldn’t help,” she said and looked away. Nothing struck her heart quite like her own weakness. It was so painful to watch others fight and be unable to help. “But that isn’t it…They were here earlier than everyone expected, and stronger than we expected, according to Hitsugaya-taichou,” Renji nodded in affirmation. His battle had been unexpectedly tough. “And Grimmjow Jeagerjacques was here,” she finished. Renji paled.

“The same guy who…” Rukia nodded curtly.

“They fought, but…” She sighed again. “Urahara-san was, as usual, fuzzy on the details. After the fight, Grimmjow brought Ichigo here to be treated.” Renji choked.

“What?! Is…Is everybody outta their frickin’ minds?!” He slammed his hands down on his knees. Rukia crossed her arms.

“He said he wanted to help Ichigo. Honestly,” she spread her arms helplessly, “It seems like he was telling the truth. He has some sort of attachment to him. Instead of wanting to fight any of us, he was just…strangely protective of Ichigo,” she said with a frown.

“…And where is he now?” Renji asked, his voice on edge.

“…Staying with him. He insisted,” Rukia replied, red creeping on to her cheeks. She still remembered Grimmjow’s accusation of voyeurism.

“Are you Kuchiki Rukia?” Renji demanded. He stood up and lightly slapped her cheeks. “Are you out of your mind?”

“I couldn’t stop him!” She snapped. “You think I want him living with Ichigo!? None of us are strong enough to say no to what he wants, unless you’d like to try.”

“Tch…” Renji scratched his head. “This can’t be alright with policy or whatever. Is he still on the other side of the war? What the hell is going on? Is Ichigo alright?”

“That is what I was trying to figure out,” Rukia said with a beleaguered tone, and slumped down. Renji sat down beside her.

“We’re the cleanup crew again, aren’t we?” He asked.

“All I know is that inciting his wrath is in no one’s best interests while he stays on Earth,” she said while giving Renji a meaningful look.

“Don’t look at me like that! It’s prob’ly Ikkaku or Hitsugaya-taichou who’d get all worked up!” She ran a hand through her bangs.

“I just hope he doesn’t decide to enroll in school,” Rukia confessed. “That’s a bigger mess than I can bully my way through.”

“Let’s make Ichigo clean it up,” Renji replied simply.

“Oh, yes. Let’s have you teach him Kidou, too,” she said sarcastically.

“Don’t be makin’ fun of my Kidou!” Renji glared comically.

“Don’t invite disaster!” She cried.

“Tch, you need to relax,” he mumbled and looked off to the side. Rukia lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. Relax? Lose the tension in all those muscles and stop worrying herself for once?

“Can’t," she grumbled. "…It’s a Kuchiki thing.”



~AN~

Woooo... This one took awhile too. I have where I want the story to go firmly in my mind, but sometimes plugging away at all the details can tire me out. I felt for awhile that it wasn't quite right, and also that the chapter was too short, so I elaborated and lengthened.

How is the banter? Natural? I can't be completely IC, since they're not mine, but I tried. I was so happy to finally write a lengthy conversation between Ichigo and Grimmjow, though. It practically wrote itself. It was also pretty fun to write things from Isshin's perspective, even though I don't know too much about him.

I've only really watched the anime, though I'm trying to catch up on the manga. But there's a lot of it, so no matter how much I enjoy it, it's tough to read all that!

Regardless, Grimmjow and Ichigo should have a lot more interaction from here on out, and I think the story will get more interesting in general. Keep reviewing! Your comments are my lifeblood. Mwa. <3