The Stranger, Chapter 6
Author:
honey_mellon
Title: The Stranger
Rating: R
Pairing: Kurosaki Ichigo, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques
Warnings: Nothing you wouldn't expect from an R-rated yaoi fiction
Summary: Ichigo is staying with his uncle, who operates a store along a rarely-traveled road. It's a peaceful, relaxing place, until a mysterious stranger shows up at their doorstep, injured and unconscious. AU.
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.
This week has been surprisingly productive. :)
"What do you mean, I need to be careful?" Ichigo stared at his uncle, his orange brows furrowed in puzzlement.
The older man sighed, as though exasperated, before rephrasing his earlier statement. "I'm merely suggesting that you should be more...cautious...when it comes to Mr. Jaegerjaques. You know, keep some distance..."
"But why?" Ichigo asked, his frown deepening as he processed his uncle's unsolicited advice. "He's just an unlucky guy who got hurt, don't you think we should be more supportive instead of feeling suspicious of him? He hasn't done anything wrong."
He couldn't believe it. Grimmjow had been here for two months and nothing weird had happened. So the man's identity was still a mystery, so they still had no idea how he got here and what happened to him, that didn't automatically make him a bad character. His uncle was being difficult and completely irrational.
Ichigo knew that Uncle Kisuke had been wary of their guest all along, but this was the first time he had actually addressed the matter so directly. And so secretively, too - the older man had waited until Grimmjow was in the shower before pulling Ichigo aside to have this conversation.
"He's an outsider, a stranger, Ichigo."
Ichigo crossed his arms over his chest. Inwardly, he snorted. An outsider? Hell, over the past months, Grimmjow had all but become his closest friend, but of course his uncle wouldn't know that. The old fart was too wrapped up in his conspiracy theories for his own good.
"So?" Ichigo snapped, the feeling of disbelief that had been coiling in his stomach beginning to morph into indignant anger.
At that, his uncle's calm exterior finally slipped. "Call it intuition, if you will. Something's off with that man, I can feel it! It's impossible for someone to be completely off the grid to the point that Ishida is unable to find him."
The statement made Ichigo do a double take. "Ishida? Who's Ishida?"
"A...friend of mine," Uncle Kisuke replied after a split-second hesitation.
Ichigo's eyes narrowed as he regarded his uncle. So his uncle had been digging into Grimmjow's background without telling them. Ichigo wasn't sure if he should be happy that Uncle Kisuke was helping - sort of - or angry because his uncle decided to keep this to himself. Surely there was no good reason to hide his effort from Grimmjow. If anything, he should tell Grimmjow.
In the end, Ichigo decided to just reel in his temper for now; there was no point causing drama over this. "You can be paranoid all you want," he said flatly, unable to hide the trace of disgust in his tone. "Don't expect me to turn on him just because you said so."
Then he stalked away stiffly, leaving his uncle standing alone in the darkened kitchen.
"Teenagers, tch," Kisuke mumbled as he massaged his temples. Alas, the calming effect that normally accompanied that action eluded him today. "They think they know everything."
Thin, graceful fingers threaded through his messy blond locks before Juushirou spoke. "Put yourself in his shoes, Kisuke," the white-haired man said quietly. "He doesn't know about the gun, so it's only natural that he doesn't understand."
Kisuke shifted in his seat and placed his folded arms on the cashier counter. Resting his cheek on top of his forearms, Kisuke turned to face his partner. "Perhaps I should tell him after all," he mused out loud.
He watched as his lover's forehead wrinkle in thought. He knew that Juushirou was just beginning to show signs of concern regarding this matter, and it was only because Ishida still hadn't given them an answer even after so long. The underground hacker slash PhD student had sounded livid in the most recent phone call, claiming that Kisuke was sending him a wild goose chase.
"If even Szayel can't find him, then he doesn't exist," Ishida had said.
Ah, but unfortunately for Kisuke, Grimmjow did exist - in fact, very much alive and well and causing him a lot of headache at the moment. Ichigo was acting increasingly out of character by the day. The boy, once sullen and typically not very talkative, seemed to have transformed into a completely different person in Jaegerjaques' presence.
Kisuke recognized the signs, albeit reluctantly. He, too, had been young once. He remembered his own behavior when he first met Juushirou, before they settled into this "old married couple" routine. He knew, without a doubt, that his nephew was becoming attached to Jaegerjaques. Whether Jaegerjaques realized it or not, though, was unclear. More than once, Kisuke had had the urge to simply confront the man, but his logical mind reminded him that he would only end up alienating Ichigo and perhaps even push the boy even deeper into this complex web called puppy love.
At least, that's what Kisuke hoped it was. The more serious Ichigo was about Girmmjow, the harder he would be crushed when the inevitable end came. And it would come, Kisuke was sure of it. It's just a matter of when and how.
Perhaps it was time to disclose the discovery of Jaegerjaques' gun to the boy. Kisuke was beginning to regret that he hadn't done so in the first place. Then again, how could he have possibly known that Ichigo would -
His thoughts were cut off abruptly by the melodious clinking of wind chimes at the entrance of the shop. Four men, all dressed in black, strolled in casually through the door.
"Welcome!" he called out.
"Good day," one of the men said with a nod. He was the shortest amongst the group; slim, with narrow shoulders and extremely pale skin. His eyes, so green that it reminded Kisuke of emeralds, exuded aloofness and confidence.
Interesting characters, Kisuke thought as he tipped his head politely in return. He didn't have to turn to know that Juushirou was alert and intrigued as well.
The men separated. The one with green eyes headed for the magazine section, his steps careful and deliberate. Another one - unproportionally tall with a head of jet black hair that flowed just past his shoulders - sauntered to the candy aisle, his strides so slow and relaxed that it was as if he was simply strolling on the beach. The third, a redhead sporting a high ponytail, went over to the beverage cooler. The last member of the group - a brown-haired man with a bored expression - remained standing near the entrance, hands buried in the pockets of his pants.
Each of them were as unique as they were the same; while their stature and features were vastly different, they all wore nearly-identical outfit in black. The one who had spoken was the only one in full suit and tie, while the others were clad slightly less formally in long-sleeved dress shirts with unbuttoned collars.
It seemed as though they were simply browsing aimlessly, though Kisuke knew better. One who was less observant would not have noticed it, but he didn't miss the subtle glances the men exchanged with each other. It wasn't that they were terrible actors; it was simply because Kisuke was a level above them. Decades of voluntary exile had done nothing to dull his sharp instincts and skills, even if he'd had no reason to put them to good use...till now.
Jaegerjaques. Kisuke would bet his own balls that this had everything to do with Jaegerjaques.
The entire time, Juushirou remained silent by his side. Kisuke knew the older man was calmly assessing the situation, scrutinizing every detail of these men, just like he was. While there was no sign of hostility from these customers of theirs, every fiber of Kisuke's being was vigilant; waiting, guessing, gauging.
The spell was broken when the green-eyed man finally ended his magazine-shopping and approached the counter with a car magazine tucked underneath his armpit. Kisuke smiled in greeting as the man pulled out an ordinary-looking wallet and rummaged through the bills before placing the correct change in front of him.
Up close, the man looked deathly pale, his skin so delicate that it was almost translucent.
"This seems like a very quiet place," the man commented in a tone that one might use when chatting about the weather.
Kisuke's smile widened. "That's exactly what I like about it here," he replied. "Old men like us can't afford to be subjected to the hustle and bustle of big cities anymore."
The customer made a sound that - if Kisuke used a liberal amount of imagination - could barely pass as a polite chuckle, but the humor did not reach his eyes. "Have you seen any strangers around here recently?" the man asked casually.
Ah ha. There it was - the heart of this pointless stalling game.
Kisuke arranged his brows into a look of surprise. "Can't say I have," he said. "Why do you ask?"
By then, the others had gathered behind their leader - the chain of authority was obvious. The skinny, freakishly tall man snapped before the green-eyed one could reply, "It's none of yer business."
"Manners," the leader said simply, his voice no less flat as before, but somehow that word alone managed to silence his companion, who made a face that looked like he'd just swallowed a frog whole. Kisuke received a small nod of apology before the man continued. "We're searching for someone, an associate of ours," he said, eyes trained intently on Kisuke's face. "We have been looking for him for a while, and we fear for his safety."
When Kisuke simply shook his head again, the man slid a small piece of card across the counter towards him. "Please, call this number if you see anyone unusual."
Juushirou piped up, "What does he look like? Surely you must give us a description if you want us to keep an eye out for your friend."
"Tch," the red-haired one scoffed at once. "Ya can't miss 'im, the fucker has blue-"
The green-eyed man snapped his head around sharply, but what's done was done and Kisuke had heard what he needed to hear.
Grimmjow had to admit that, where the boy lacked in experience, he more than made it up with grace and speed. He grinned as Ichigo's feet missed his cheek by a hair's breadth.
"Very good!" he yelled, giving Ichigo a thumbs-up even as he twisted his body around to land behind the boy. "You're getting faster!"
The peeved expression on Ichigo's face softened slightly at the praise, but his retort was as sharp as ever. "No, you've just gotten slower."
"Ha!"
Life was becoming more bearable to Grimmjow these days. His past was still a stubborn void, but at least his body had completely healed and he was sleeping a little better at night; the latter being a welcomed side-effect from these sparring exercises with Ichigo. It had become a habit, the two of them meeting up in the backyard right before dinner and spending thirty minutes wearing each other out.
It was strange, being able to do this without knowing how he even knew it in the first place. It just felt natural, like his body had a mind of its own. If he was honest with himself, this both excited him and worried him. With skills like that, was he simply an ordinary man who happened to have a liking for martial arts, or was he something...more?
A gangster? An assassin? A spy?
Grimmjow snickered out loud as he ran those thoughts in his head again. Ridiculous.
Ichigo watched the older man smile to himself and wondered what was so funny. He would've asked, except he was still fuming inside, the memory of his uncle's warning - well meaning as they were - still vivid in his mind. Seriously, what was Uncle Kisuke's problem? It just wasn't fair. He was eighteen years old, a fucking adult, goddamnit - why couldn't his uncle accept that?
Right now, his only consolation was that at least Grimmjow had finally started to take him a little more seriously. Oh, the man still called him a kid alright, but ever since Grimmjow learned of his family problem, it was as though it suddenly occurred to the man that Ichigo wasn't some immature, snot nosed brat without a care in the world.
"Take a break?"
Startled back to reality by Grimmjow's gruff voice, Ichigo nodded. He made his way slowly to fence and plopped down on the grass next to the man. All of a sudden, he felt exhausted, like his head had decided that it had had enough to think about for the day. It didn't help that his last conversation with his dad didn't exactly go the way he had hoped.
Sighing, he let his head fall back against the fence post behind him.
Grimmjow glanced at the kid out of the corner of his eye. Ichigo's sweat-soaked hair hung limply over his forehead, the tangerine locks appearing almost golden in the dying sunlight. His face glistened under a light sheen of perspiration, highlighting his cheekbones and angular jaw. As a droplet of sweat slid down along Ichigo's hairline, Grimmjow's gaze followed it, watching it glide down the tanned, flawless skin until it reached his jaw, where it paused for a second before dripping down onto Ichigo's collar bone.
It was plain as day - something was bothering the boy.
"You okay, kid?" Grimmjow gave Ichigo a playful punch on his arm.
Ichigo jerked up, obviously startled out of whatever daydream he had been lost in. He opened his mouth as if to speak, only to clamp it shut a second later.
Grimmjow shook his head. "How's the thing with your dad going?" he tried.
"Not great," Ichigo replied. A scowl tugged at his features. "Dad says I have a month before I have to go home. Said I've been wasting my time out here and that it's time for me to 'man up' and face reality." His jaw muscles flexed as he gritted his teeth. "Stubborn old goat."
Ah.
"Damn," Grimmjow grunted.
"Yeah."
The silence that followed almost made Grimmjow wish that he hadn't brought up the topic, but he knew Ichigo didn't have anyone else to talk to. Now, though, Grimmjow wasn't sure what he could do to cheer the boy up, though he really wanted to. That downturned mouth on Ichigo's face just didn't sit right with him.
Well, when in doubt, always go for the most obvious, right?
"Want to hit a couple more minutes before heading in?"
Kisuke's fingers tightened around his phone when he recognized the voice on the other end of the line.
"Well, congratulations, Urahara," Ishida said dryly. "You have a dead man on your hands."
To be continued...