Angry at the World - Chapter 20 - And So He Falls
Author: Me!
Title: Angry at the World
Pairing: Grimmjow x Ichigo
Rating: This chapter PG-13, whole story NC-17
Summary: Grimmjow is dead set on posessing Kurosaki Ichigo for more reasons than even he knows, no matter what the consequences. Despite his hate for the Espada, Ichigo can't help but feel connected by their mutual rage and fire.
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite owns Bleach and its characters. I make no money from these endeavors and do not advocate violence or lawbreaking. But I do advocate good-looking men.
Beta: vicariousworld
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Link to the other chapters.
Chapter 20 - And So He Falls
Three women stood in a field, quiet and surrounded by tall grasses.
“I thought I would help you out. It must be difficult to train without another sword around,” Danna offered to Rukia. The adopted Kuchiki eyed her suspiciously. She was something of a Shinigami, Rukia could tell, now that she wasn’t suppressing her reiatsu. But not dressed like one-she was in slightly athletic clothes with a long sword buckled at her waist. She sighed and made up her mind. If Ishida and Ichigo trusted Estienne, she would too. If for some reason anything bad happened, Inoue was always there.
“…If Inoue says it’s alright,” Rukia said and flicked her gaze over towards the excited girl. Orihime smiled. She might as well have said yes for her, Inoue was so friendly. But she didn’t want to be like the other girl’s friends, always assuming they knew what was on her mind just because she was happy and outgoing.
“I’d love to have you join us! It’s so exciting to work hard like this, to have a purpose,” she said, eyes shining.
“I’ve got an idea,” Danna offered as she drew her sword. “ Why don’t you mix it up for us, Inoue? Use your shields and attacks when we’re not expecting it. We should be ready for lots of distractions, more than one fight at once.”
“True, our opponents aren’t exactly honorable,” Rukia said dryly. Still, she hoped Inoue would watch out for her. She still didn’t know how strong Danna was, or entirely why she had lied. And try as she might, she was still suspicious.
“Anything I can do to help,” Orihime said with determination.
~
Vey Sondegaard was an Arrancar in Aizen-sama’s service, and she delighted in it. Her prettiness was probably all that had caught their attention-dark green hair, blue eyes and her Hollow mask like a circlet of teeth through her hair. Not that they truly cared about her or being beautiful, just that it would be below them to use Arrancar below a…certain standard. But she was smart enough to understand the games Gin and Aizen played, and silly and strange enough not to care. If she was sent to one man one night, and the next night both men spent together, she didn’t mind. She didn’t become jealous like the other girls. They were beautiful and wise men; cruel, sometimes, but she liked that.
So when she was unlucky enough to cross Nnoitra’s path during one of his rages, she did not expect there to be any punishment or retribution for her broken body. But she was no longer considered fit for private service to the leaders of the Arrancar, and never given a second glance, never even missed. Nor had anyone been willing to help her with her injuries, and she had nearly died. Those things she hadn’t expected. The betrayal cut deep, hurting, stinging far worse than her wounded vanity. She had expected so little in return for her loyalty, and they, those magnanimous and handsome men, they had abandoned her like so much trash.
So now Vey worked quietly, painfully, cleaning and providing for lesser Arrancar. She didn’t have any ideas. But Arrancar lived long lives, and she could wait. Indeed, she would wait as long as it took, for hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
~
Ichigo gnawed at a stubborn piece of strawberry taffy, already feeling better with its sweet taste in his mouth. He and his father hadn’t spoken about the few hours they had spent together, and that was how he liked it. Things were…just barely different, though. A kinder smile from Isshin, and a not so hard kick from Ichigo. He spent his stored energy sparring with Renji in Urahara’s basement, and if possible the other redhead seemed more burdened than Ichigo. So he beat the crap out of him to try and help. One friend to another. Nothing like real problems to get your mind off things, right?
A shadow fell across his room, a figure at the window blocking the moonlight. Only certain kinds of people used that entrance to his house, so he turned and scowled at whoever it was.
“Hey there, ‘Chigo,” Grimmjow drawled, and stepped onto Ichigo’s bed. White-hot fury built in the Shinigami’s head and gut. It took a stupid amount of nerve to show up here after what Grimmjow had done, and act as if everything were alright. Ichigo’s words swelled behind his lips, but before he could release them Grimmjow’s weight hit the bed awkwardly and he fell without any attempt to steady himself. Ichigo caught him instinctively and stumbled under his heavy body, even though part of his mind had whispered to step away.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?! Are you drunk or something?” He asked the Espada disdainfully. Ichigo felt his shirt growing wet, and scowled. The bastard must have spilled his booze all over himself.
“Ha, no… y’got anythin’ t’drink though?” He laughed harshly and his grammar was even worse than usual. The redhead’s anger began to fade in spite of himself. If he was stupid enough to get drunk-- the stain on his shirt was growing fast, and it was warm…
He let Grimmjow’s body slam to the floor, and the man groaned weakly. It just didn’t make sense. It didn’t fit together in Ichigo’s head. Grimmjow Jeagerjacques lay on his floor in his Gigai. The white shirt he wore shone wet crimson in slashes across his chest and in dull splashes on his jeans. More red bloomed and dripped from his left shoulder, where there lay only the stump of Grimmjow’s arm.
Ichigo felt it now, the warm stickiness of the blood that had soaked into the front of his shirt.
“What have you done…?” He asked Grimmjow, staring numbly. Inoue. No, Arrancar can still bleed to death, there isn’t time, even if she would. Why the hell did he waste time getting into his Gigai?! How is he supposed to… “DAD!” He yelled and knelt down next to the blue-haired man, his fury replaced by a fearful, shooting pain in his chest. “You fucking moron Grimmjow, there are so many fucking things wrong with you,” he snarled and started to pick him up, but Grimmjow hindered his efforts by putting his hand through his hair and pulling down his head. “What’re you…”
“Ichigo…” The redhead’s heart pounded. Grimmjow pressed Ichigo’s head to the crook of his shoulder and neck. Grimmjow’s touch was soft, his skin too warm for someone who had lost so much blood.“They were lies…” If there were any other sounds in the house, Ichigo couldn’t hear them.
“…What?” He wasn’t sure if he had said anything at all, he was so surprised.
“Don’t go all hard… I was jus’ tryin’ t’hurt you… ,” he said, so quietly it hardly seemed like Grimmjow. His hand was still caressing, lovingly and almost awed. That was too much. Ichigo grabbed his hand and strung his arm across his shoulders to haul him to his feet.
“DAD! GET YOUR ASS IN THE CLINIC!” So much wasted time. “Can you walk?” He demanded of Grimmjow. The Espada nodded, but it became apparent that after a few steps he couldn’t.
“What fooor?!~” They heard Isshin yell sleepily.
“Just DO IT GODDAMMIT!” Ichigo yelled angrily. When did everyone here turn into an idiot!? Without warning him he bent down and swept Grimmjow, the least likely person to ever be carried like a princess, into his arms. The weight distribution was awkward from carrying such a bigger man, but it wasn’t hard. He pressed Grimm’s bleeding stump hard against his chest, trying to stem the flow of blood. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He walked quickly out into the hallway just in time to see his father disappear down the stairs, and followed him. “You still awake dumbass?” He looked down and asked. Grimmjow’s stare seemed empty, fizzling away. “Hey dumbass!” He said again. Those blue eyes focused on him. They seemed surprised. Grimmjow’s hand reached up to his face.
“…These cause ‘a me?” He asked, stroking. What does he mean? Grimmjow’s fingers came away wet, and Ichigo looked determinedly ahead, jaw clenched. He was not crying. He was not crying.
~
Isshin’s sleepy fog was burned away in an instant by the appearance of his son in the clinic. He was pale and covered in blood, carrying that damned trouble-making Grimmjow, whose apparently white shirt appeared to be almost entirely red. With the eyes of a doctor, his eyes flicked from wound to wound, assessing. Could he save him? Should he save him? Urahara had never told him the entire truth about this spirit’s sudden appearance, but Isshin wasn’t-completely-stupid. This man had obviously caused a terrible and painful upheaval in his son’s life. The orange-haired son who was gently placing the blue-haired and dying man on this gurney, the son whose tears fell without sound or acknowledgement.
“Get out, Ichigo,” he said harshly. Ichigo’s head snapped to look at him, grimacing. “No arguments, I need a clean room.”
“But--” he began.
“There isn’t time!” He said sharply. So rarely did he speak in that tone that Ichigo actually listened to him. He looked hard down at Grimmjow before walking away. The troublemaker’s hand slid along Ichigo’s arm in farewell just a little too long, and anger flared in Isshin’s chest.
“He’s like a god, ain’t he?” Grimmjow said quietly. Isshin started. The look in Grimmjow’s eyes as he watched Ichigo leave, that look the older Kurosaki wouldn’t try to describe. “Th’hair…th’body…reiatsu…”
“That’s enough,” he replied, voice clipped. He didn’t need to hear him describe Ichigo like that, to give such weight to curse he bore. He instead focused on taking out a pair of scissors and cutting away Grimmjow’s shirt, still debating with himself about the fate he held in his hands.
The dreams were because of this man. The screaming was because of this man. The pain was because of this man. The keening, desolate sounds Ichigo made when he couldn’t stop and thought no one would hear, when he sounded desperate for death. The ones Isshin had to pretend not to hear, because at this point airing out his secrets would tear Ichigo apart more harshly than the loneliness. Was that his fault? Did the fault lie with both of them?
He was so keen to place the responsibility in someone else’s hands. His life on Earth, where he had only wanted to find his happiness, had taken one life while creating another full of misery. Had he always unwittingly hurt the boy who had played a part in Masaki’s death? But that had been his fault as well-producing a child who never should have existed, full of power that he could never truly understand. Not even those in Soul Society really knew…
But Isshin had…decided not to interfere. That meant he could not, even if it would be better for Ichigo, purposely cause Grimmjow’s death. The man was something his son would have to sort out on his own. And like any father who happened to be a doctor, he would try to save this patient.
~
Better if he were dead. Better for all us if he were dead.Better for everyone if he dies… No matter how many times Ichigo tried to repeat the words in his head, his conviction didn’t grow any stronger. He didn’t want Grimmjow to die. He…He still had to kick the shit out of the bastard for everything he’d said. Grimmjow didn’t get a “get out of jail free” card just because he nearly died and sort of apologized. No, this just meant Ichigo would have to yell at him even more.
It was embarrassing to cry two times in one day. At least this time it wasn’t constant; only occasionally would hot tears gather in his eyes to fall, and he wiped them away immediately. No one needed to know. He did not cry, even though his shirt was stiff with blood, his hands covered in it. His old man hadn’t said anything about whether or not the Espada might live. Even if he did, that arm… Grimmjow had lost an entire arm. Inoue. I can convince her tomorrow… As long as he lives tonight. I don’t know if she can restore his arm but… what am I saying…I can’t just…give the enemy back an arm… But how much of an enemy is he? If I asked her, Grimmjow…and she could…What would you do with it? Would you use it for Aizen? Would they just take it from you again? …This was a punishment. No one from Soul Society did this, or they would’ve followed you. What do they know?
His stomach clenched. What would they do with their knowledge? He should have made Grimmjow leave, stay away from school, kept it a better secret. Some of his friends knew, he guessed. What would they tell Soul Society, and when? It was just…carnal, I could say that. We met once or twice and couldn’t stop... It would be humiliating to say that to them. Make myself sound like some stupid… They’d wanna know what I expect outta this, but… But I don’t fucking know! I don’t know what he wants, what I want! I hardly even know how I feel half the goddamn time. God knows what he would do if his loyalty were tested. Ichigo looked moodily to the ground. I know what I would do if he pressed me.
…I think I know. I don’t think he would make me. He’s not that much of a fucking asshole. He can be stupid and vulgar and mean, but…He’d never take it too far, about me. He swallowed. I don’t think he would. Ichigo hadn’t been that certain before. But when Grimmjow had appeared tonight and spoke, his voice, his touch, his look… There was a disturbing, unsettling feeling Ichigo experienced from those things, and he didn’t know what it meant. He hadn’t felt it before, and it was bright and good at the same time that it hurt more sharply than anything.
He didn’t want to name it, because it froze his heart to think of experiencing it. He didn’t want to, he wasn’t ready, and so he wouldn’t.
His normally warm brown eyes stared dully at a spot across the room, trying to think of nothing, or at least nothing important. Fragments of thoughts flew through his mind and he dismissed them the best he could. How was he supposed to keep waiting without going insane?
Around the corner Karin and Yuzu held a hushed conversation, so quiet they could barely hear each other.
“Ichi-nii likes to be alone when he’s scared,” Karin hissed. “We have to pretend we don’t know.”
“I don’t think he does, I think everyone just thinks that and leaves him be… But he wants somebody to say it’s okay just like everybody else,” Yuzu said, shyly at first and becoming more confident as she went on.
“…I wouldn’t know what to say. When was the last time Ichi-nii couldn’t protect someone and something bad happened?” She admitted to her sister.
“I think it’s enough to just be there,” she whispered back. Karin shook her head.
“Listen, you talk to him. I’ll just go back to bed, he can think I didn’t hear,” Yuzu was already shaking her head, and then grabbed Karin’s wrist.
“Come on, just stay next to him and smile,” she whispered fiercely and tugged Karin into the open. She couldn’t retreat now. Ichigo turned his head in surprise at their appearance, and his mouth opened to ask a question but Yuzu beat him to it. “We want to stay here with you,” she said, trying to look imperious about it. “Grimm-kun will be fine, but…we’ll be here to worry with you,” she finished and sat down next to him. Hesitantly, Karin took a seat on his other side.
“You shouldn’t,” he said with a sigh. “It’s past your bedtime, both of you. The Old Man’ll yell at me.”
“Screw Goat Face, we’re staying whether he likes it or not!” Karin said abruptly. Yuzu laughed and Ichigo tousled her hair. She smiled and let him get away with it this time. Ichigo put his arms around both of his sisters’ shoulders and pulled them close. And they waited.
~
It was a few hours later when Isshin finally emerged from the clinic. He looked tired, and there was blood around his sleeves. Ichigo had nodded off while hugging his knees, and both Yuzu and Karin had curled up beside him. His father walked up to him and rapped him on the head while quietly saying his name. Ichigo’s head shot up instantly with a scowl.
“Wha-what?” He asked tiredly. Somehow his orange mop of hair had become even messier while he was there, perhaps from running his hands through it nervously.
“He’ll be fine… Everything is stitched up,” Isshin said quietly, absentmindedly touching Yuzu’s hair. “He won’t be able to get a prosthetic for that arm, and he’s got a broken pelvis, and a bad attitude, but he’s awake. I’ve got him on some painkillers, doesn’t seem to be very out of it though,” Goat-Face opened his jaw wide to yawn and scratched at his stubble. Ichigo tried to keep an absolutely stoic face at the news and stood up stiffly.
“Then I can go see him, right?” He asked as he was already halfway to the door. Isshin nodded, and Ichigo walked in and closed the door behind him. Grimmjow was on a bed and dressed in fresh clothes, his empty left sleeve folded and pinned at his shoulder. Ichigo was amazed at the cleanliness and skill his old man was capable of if he put his mind to it.
The teen swallowed, and sat down gingerly next to the Espada. He still had a lingering feeling that he should hate the man, but he wouldn’t let himself, at least for the moment. Grimmjow’s eyes opened slightly, his brows for once relaxed and not pressed together.
“You’re a fuck,” Ichigo started before he realized. The words were spilling out all on their own. “You’re a stupid, stupid fuck. You’re a fucking moron!” He clenched his fists. “You-”
“Ichigo…Shut up,” Grimmjow said tiredly, and the redhead’s mouth snapped shut in spite of himself. “C’mere,” he said, and gestured for Ichigo to bend down with his hand. The Shinigami scowled, but bent down slowly. Once he was close enough, Grimmjow reached up to pull him down further. “Lay down next to me, will ya?” That was a stupid idea. Ichigo’s father was just outside; his friends were bound to show up and investigate after his reiatsu had changed so wildly. Besides, we aren’t-I’m not the cuddling type. Despite all of his reasoning against it, Ichigo lay down next to the wounded Espada. Grimmjow’s remaining arm snaked around the teen and pulled him close-too close, breath hot and bodies nestled. “…Why were you scared?” Grimmjow asked quietly. Ichigo studied his face intently and scowled. “Don’t lie to me… I can smell it, you were afraid,” the words weren’t even meant as an insult as far as he could tell. The bastard’s face was expressionless, lined with stress and fatigue.
“You lost a goddamn arm. I would be worried about anyone…even Byakuya,” he joked weakly. Grimmjow’s arm pulled him closer, strangely gentle, and he pushed Ichigo’s head against his shoulder. Surprised by the action, Ichigo found himself willingly surrendering to the espada’s hold.
“Y’know we’re breakin’ a lot a rules, don’t ya? If anyone else knew ya were talkin’ to me…” He was right. It was a miracle no one on Earth had made major trouble over Grimmjow.
“They’ve talked to you too… Maybe they think they can keep you from fighting,” But if they knew the truth, there were no excuses, no words that could pardon him. …But sometimes words aren’t important. It was that thought that made Ichigo realize, that made his stomach squeeze tightly, that formed a painful knot in his throat. No… It’s not. It’s not, that…
“So perfect,” Grimmjow murmured as his hand reached up and stroked Ichigo’s hair lightly, stunning the redhead. The tone, it was…adoring. It struck him painfully; it didn’t seem right, or even real. The man in front of him without mask or hole wasn’t real. He couldn’t be. Yet there he was speaking in the same tone as before. The same tone as the apology, the plea for him not to become hard and closed off. Admitting that those painful words were lies.
That strange moment compelled him, and he moved to kiss Grimmjow. The Espada made a soft noise and deepened their kiss, eventually sliding his tongue into Ichigo’s mouth. Instead of lustful and manic, Grimmjow’s tongue was careful, stimulating. The man’s lips would sometimes press just lightly upon his in a kiss so chaste Ichigo was never exactly sure that it had just happened, only the lingering feeling that the bastard had done something unselfish.
He wasn’t sure how long they just kissed or why, only that it was everything it hadn’t been before. It didn’t lead to anything else, and after a time they simply stopped. As their breath slowed, Ichigo wrapped his arm around Grimmjow’s solid body to bring himself closer, and rested his other hand on the man’s chest. Ichigo, nestled into Grimmjow’s body, couldn’t see the weak smile form on the Espada’s face as their legs twined together to pull against each other, ever closer. Together, oblivious to the outside and for once neither stubborn to the other, they fell asleep.
This is a picture of the Arrancar mentioned earlier in this chapter. She's not necessarily "important enough" to warrant a picture, but I ended doodling. So here she is, pre-beatdown. Click for big, and ignore the massive shininess of her hair and the crappiness of her mask. (Again, apologies if some random arrancar already has this design...)
COMMUNITY DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations in this post/fanfiction/fanart (including material in the comments) are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.