Adult-FanFiction.org : Bleach

Prize of Victory 1.5
By : NovaAlexandria
Category: Bleach > General
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Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach nor profit from my works.
Chapter List
- 14
- 15
This chapter is brought to you by Black Fox. From this point onward I make no promises on time line accuracy as new chapters go up. There well be notes as to where the events take place in regards to POV though.
Snowmelt
Friday, August 17th
Six years prior to Aizen’s downfall…
“So… what do you think?”

Ichigo tugged on the slightly-too-short sleeves of his windbreaker and let his eyes wander around the abandoned warehouse’s cavernous main interior. A quick scuff of his boot sent a small cloud of dust particles upwards. They briefly glittered in the weak shafts of light streaming through one of several holes in the ceiling. Rukia’s question went unanswered and he debated whether or not to tell her what he really thought or give her a reply that would allow him to walk without a limp. They’d jimmied open one of the rolling metal doors meant to accommodate a delivery truck and only managed to lift the rusty thing halfway. If he concentrated, he could hear the faint ‘plink… plink’ of water dripping, a remnant of the late summer thunderstorm that had rolled through earlier that afternoon. Ichigo was certain they’d find puddles on the floor if he looked long enough.
“It’s filthy,” he finally declared, running his hands through his shaggy orange hair, “and cold.” The bad thing about it was that it wasn’t the worst place they’d chosen to stay during their decade-long attempt to keep out of Aizen’s clutches. There weren’t many comfortable options in tightly-packed Japan for a group of people their size, even if half of them were non-corporeal. Kenpachi and Hachigen each took up enough room for three normal-sized people, and both Hiyori’s mouth and temper were large enough to require a separate, dedicated space. The gigai issue was an additional problem – it wasn’t likely that they’d be able to outrun the consequences if anyone accidentally discovered the Vizards’ and Rukia’s false bodies. A hotel was right out, but affording such lodging was a pipe dream under their current circumstances anyway. That left a string of seedy dives that barely qualified as shelter, let along decent housing.
The only real thing for which he felt gratitude was that his little sister Yuzu was in a much safer and drier place. He and the rest of the Escapees could endure hardships like a lack of running water or electricity, but his baby sister? No, she was better off where she was. At least, that’s what Ichigo told himself. If he repeated it enough, he might someday come to believe it.
At present, they needed to move their headquarters and quickly. Yoruichi had come back from her latest spying trip to the Seireitei with news of a changeup to the Shinigami patrols and immediately gave the two of them the task of scoping out potential safe-houses for the coming winter. Then their leader had turned right around and gone back to the Soul Society, intent on rendezvousing with one of her many contacts. She’d wanted to drop off a report on the escalating number of natural disasters tied to the growing imbalance of souls.
“Plus the roof’s leaking,” Ichigo pointed out, knowing what Rukia’s reaction was going to be, yet saying it anyway. He wasn’t disappointed; she glared at his assessment of the warehouse’s shortcomings.
“It just needs a good cleaning and a few repairs,” she snapped and gestured towards the second floor offices, which he could see if he tilted his head up and squinted. The only light came from the windows above and he doubted the few fixtures hanging from the support beams worked. “There are plenty of rooms up there we could convert to sleeping quarters, and there has to be some sort of breakroom with a kitchen…”
“You mean after we evict the rats. I think I saw one scurry around the corner back there.”
Rukia’s response involved a great deal of eye rolling.
“Pfft! Every urban area has a vermin problem. Stop being such a wuss, Ichigo! This place didn’t manufacture foodstuffs, so there’s nothing here for them to scavenge. It certainly isn’t as bad as that old amusement park where we stayed last spring.”
‘Fair enough,’ he thought and made a face at the unpleasant memory. The aforementioned property, with its derelict rides and deserted buildings, had seemed like a reasonable spot to hole up for a few months. However, a dual infestation of low-level Hollows and preternaturally smart rats made their little group of rebels pull up stakes within three weeks. While she was probably right in that they wouldn’t have to deal with an army of four-legged pests, Ichigo could see other signs that made him think they’d be better off elsewhere.
“I like the graffiti. Which gang do you think painted it?”
Rukia’s anger deepened at his barely-hidden sarcasm and she put her hands on her plaid-skirted hips. Exasperation radiated from every pore of her gigai.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a few punks? You used to eat guys like that for breakfast!”
Ichigo’s shoulders tensed. When Rukia said nothing more, daring him to deny it, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his well-worn jeans and turned away. Any willingness to bicker with her evaporated. Pushing past, he walked through the shadows towards the stairs that would take him to the second floor.
“Chad was with me then,” he muttered as he stalked past her, and then added “and I’m not fifteen anymore.”
Along the way, his foot found an empty soda can, probably left there by whoever decided to redecorate with red spray paint. Ichigo kicked it into the gloom, where he heard it bounce against something solid. She didn’t immediately follow, which was just as well.
There ya go again. This is gettin’ real old, King. Real old.
Ichigo started up the stairs and immediately withdrew his hand from the railing when he detected something both sticky and gritty coating it. The nasty sensation matched the sand-in-the-shorts irritation he felt when the monster lurking in his inner world dropped by for an unwanted visit.
That’s real nice. Glad t’spend quality time with ya too.
Leave me alone. I’m not in the mood.
Ya never are. This dump ain’t so bad an’ it ain’t as if you don’t have a built-in exterminator. Let that Taichou pull ‘er weight catchin’ mice for a change.
Ichigo snorted at the notion and continued to climb.
She’d have my head the minute I suggested it. There are better ways to die.
There are better ways to live too. Lemme give ya a few ideas.
He was halfway up the stairs, trying not to touch anything in the process when the world around him warped and faded. The steel staircase risers he had yet to ascend melted and…

…took on the shape of sheets covering an immense bed, the edge of which he could not see thanks to the naked bodies parked squarely in his field of vision. One was small, black-haired and lithe. The other was buxom and leggy, with long turquoise hair that spilled over the messy bedding. The only part of the two women he could not see were their faces, as each of their respective heads were buried between the other’s spread thighs. Their hips undulated in a similar rhythm and Ichigo didn’t have to wait long for one of them to break away from what she was doing to moan. That allowed for a view of Rukia’s bare sex and a thin string of saliva that connected her drenched inner lips with Nel’s pink tongue…
Ichigo promptly missed the next step.
He fell forward, wide-eyed as the real world temporarily came back via a sharp pain to his kneecap. A string of curses left his mouth, blistering the air around him and he sucked in breath after breath, trying to clear his head.
“Ichigo!!!”
The shout, coming from below, sounded oddly tinny and he shook his head, hoping he wasn’t imagining things. Evidently, his Hollow wasn’t done with him, because a rush of static replaced it, which then separated into two streams of needy pleas…
“Ichigo-sama, we’re sooo ready for you!”
Rukia and Nel laid belly to belly, with the Shinigami on all fours and the Arrancar on her back, her legs held apart by the other woman’s spread thighs. Rukia’s hooded eyes met his over her shoulder and a rush of lust so strong it actually hurt struck him. Nel’s hands stroked Rukia’s back, then slipped over her bottom and slid between her nether lips, opening them. Her other hand wormed between her and Rukia’s bodies and did the same to herself.
“Please, Ichigo-sama, hurry up!”
“Which one of us are you going to Claim this time?”
“ICHIGO!!!!!”
This time the piercing shriek originated less than an inch from his ear and there was no way his Hollow’s perverted imagery could last under such conditions. The lurid vision shattered and Ichigo realized his right cheek was pressed against the waffle-texture of a metal step, as were both palms. Blinking, the grungy warehouse in all its un-splendor came back into sharp focus, as did the pressure of a hand between his shoulder blades.
“Fuck…” he croaked and tried taking inventory, to make certain he hadn’t lost any body parts while tripping up the stairs. This resulted in a lot of painful, though informative, feedback.
“OW!!!! Sonofabitch!!”
A small pair of hands grabbed his left bicep and pulled on the sleeve of his jacket.
“What the hell was that? Are you all right?”
‘Yeah, I’m fantastic,’ he thought blearily and then shoved his torso upright before the bastard in his head could throw anything else at him. Rukia’s proximity did nothing for his composure and he was very glad that his jacket was open. The hanging sides of the garment concealed what was probably a very noticeable bulge in his jeans. If she saw that, he wouldn’t have to worry about Yoruichi killing him. Rukia would beat her to it.
Ichigo also made a promise to himself to tear the perverted psycho taking up valuable real estate in his brain a new one… with a set of rusty hedge clippers if he could find them. Or maybe a broken pipe. There had to be something in this dump he could use as a weapon.
“‘M fine,” he growled and shrugged, dislodging her in an effort to keep his front half out of view. “Don’t worry about it. Just… don’t.”
The alarm on her face reverted to a thin-lipped frown and Rukia huffed as he regained his feet. She’d wedged her smaller form between his body and the railing, so instead of trying to grab the metal bar, he placed his hand on the opposite wall. The last thing he wanted to do was touch her, with that appalling fantasy still dancing around in his cranium.
Of course, that meant that she took what he said the wrong way. Rukia pressed her lips together until they created a straight, grim line and dropped his arm.
“Whatever. Excuse me for giving a damn!”
She ducked her head and stomped ahead, the metal staircase shaking with each footfall. Ichigo watched her skirt swish back and forth on the way up and then closed his eyes. Things had just gone from unhappy-but-manageable to downright hostile, thanks to his Hollow’s oversharing.
As for what he’d overshared…
You’re the vilest creature in the goddamned universe, you know that right? I can’t believe I’ve got you creeping around my skull! You’re sick!
…an you need to get laid in th’ worst possible way. Wouldn’t it be nice ta come home after a hard day on th’ construction site, or whatever it is ya do ta kill time when Kenpachi ain’t beating your wimpy ass black ‘n blue, and have a couple a’ crumpets waiting for ya? I could make that happen for ya. We could make that happen, King, unlike those two wannabe Arrancar ya call ‘roomies’. Just say the word.

Never. Not in a thousand years would I subject Rukia or… geez, what the hell is wrong with you? Nel’s just a little girl!

Ichigo detected maniacal laughter from a dark corner of his inner world, coupled with a healthy dose of derision.
Didja miss out on the last five years? That pink-topped fat-ass fixed her mask a long time ago and damn, didn’t he do a bang-up job of it? She ain’t a brat no more!
He took his time reaching the top, only to find Rukia hadn’t waited for him.
I don’t think of her that way. I can’t! I’m too used to seeing her as a child.
This time he could all but see the sneer on his Hollow’s masked face.
Sure ya do. That’s why you’ve got a stiff one going. Haven’t ya noticed all th’attention she’s been throwin’ yer way, or are ya just blind and stupid? What about th’ little snowflake? Maybe watchin’ someone else eat ‘er out does it for you. I say, let me Claim both of ‘em an’ order ‘em ta stop fightin’ over ya. Then ya can ride ‘em until ya put cubs in their bellies!

Ichigo wondered if Rukia would forgive him if he banged his head against the closest wall until the torment stopped.
Shut the fuck up, or I swear, I’ll crawl in there and throttle you!
Hey, I’m just telling ya all th’ things yer too chicken ta deal with on yer own. Why don’t ya do somethin’ about it before yer frosty princess decides ta kick ya in th’ guts again ‘cause she’s pissed yer wearin’ Odelschwanck ‘round yer shoulders like a scarf…
The slithery, mocking voice dwindled, which was a blessing, since Ichigo’s head already hurt from the unexpected contact with the step, nor was his knee doing him any favors. Wishing he had a bottle of aspirin or maybe a beer, he decided against venturing down the elevated walkway. Instead, he braced his back against the wall and faced the huge space beyond the safety railing.
From this vantage point, he got a much better view of the place. It was certainly big enough. There was more than enough room to train, which was what had probably drawn Rukia here on her solo scouting trip three days ago. There were no leaking skylights on this end of the vast building, so the rooms on the second level would be dry. It was already trashed, so a few more scorch marks on the walls and ceilings wouldn’t tip off the owner/slumlord that a pack of vagrants had set up shop on both floors and other than some easily picked locks, he saw no evidence of any security company presence… no cameras, no warning notices, no guard dogs. That was surprising, given the value of Tokyo real estate. That no one wanted to spend good money safeguarding the complex meant that the owners weren’t able to unload it or rent it out, or there was something else keeping it empty. If so, the Escapees wouldn’t have to worry about anyone selling the property out from under them for a while.
‘I probably shouldn’t say anything about having to keep the homeless out. Technically, we ARE the homeless.’
He could see why Rukia would think this might be an acceptable solution. Perhaps his Hollow was right and he was being too hard on her for reasons that had nothing to do with their diminished circumstances. This was in a commercial district, rather than one of the old decaying suburbs, where stray, low-level Hollows were becoming more common, so they wouldn’t have to worry about running into as many Shinigami patrols.
‘Maybe I’m overthinking this. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than the cramped basement we’re in now.’
Hachi had successfully concealed the Vizard’s old lair, which had been roughly the same size, for half-a-century. The eight of them had initially made do with smaller safe-houses, so as to not tax the Kido Master while he spent a few precious hours each night trying to mend Nel’s mask. He’d become much better at creating barriers and barrier modification in the last few years, so maybe he would be up to the task of safeguarding something this size again.
‘I’m making Rukia’s case for her,’ Ichigo realized and pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew his resentment about the way things had worked out was his problem, not hers. It really wasn’t Rukia’s fault that at twenty-five, he’d been reduced to living one or two steps above one of those laid-off middle-aged salarymen in the park, hunkered down in their cardboard boxes with their sleeping bags, dirty suits and hopeless eyes.
It also wasn’t her fault that his future had turned out so differently than he’d imagined.
“Dammit…”
Ichigo scratched his scalp, rubbed the red welt on his forehead again and went in search of Rukia. Along the way, he poked his head into a few of the unlocked rooms. Most of the filing cabinets, computers and other equipment were long gone, salvaged when the business shut down or moved on to a bigger or better building. The unisex bathroom he discovered needed some sanitizing, and the toilet had no water in the bowl, but the slight ‘drip-drip’ of the cold and hot faucets meant that there was water in the pipes. The humidity and stifling heat on this level were much worse and he’d have to see if there were any air conditioners to be had. All in all, the second floor was much cleaner and unlike many of the windows downstairs, the windows on this floor were intact.
That brought back a few memories. Evidently, the kids in this neighborhood were terrible at throwing rocks, or didn’t have a friend with Chad’s arm strength. A wave of melancholy hit him and for the umpteenth time, he wished that he’d been able to get to his best friend before he’d died. The big guy’s cool head and insightfulness would have been a welcome counterpoint to Yoruichi’s brazenness, Kenpachi’s occasional madness and Hiyori’s all-around snarky ‘bitch-on-wheels’ act. Funny, he thought, how badly one could crave sanity when it was in short supply.
Ichigo ran the palm of his hand over his face and cursed again. Chad was dead and the closest thing he had now to the camaraderie he and the half-Mexican had shared was somewhere down the hall, mad as hell at him. Whether it was just about the warehouse or about something more, like the lunatic in his head insinuated he didn’t know, but he needed to clear this up fast. Their hideout was going to feel even smaller than it already was if Rukia stayed angry.
He eventually found her standing in what had once been the office of someone important, at the end of the hallway. The south and west windows of the corner room still had two sets of out-of-date vertical blinds installed. Open halfway, they let in bars of sunlight, decorating everything inside with bright yellow stripes that went from floor to ceiling. The only objects casting full shadows were a sullen-looking Rukia and an immense metal desk that no one had seen fit to try to wrestle down the narrow stairs. Ichigo slid sideways into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft ‘click’. Rukia didn’t turn around, not even when he cleared his throat. Then she caught him off-guard by speaking before he could.
“Fine. You win. Go ahead and tell me how much you hate it.”
“That wasn’t…”
She went on as if she hadn’t heard him, lividly biting off each word.
“I know it’s not great, but if you think you can do better, then get out there tonight and look for another hideout, instead of sleeping!”
Ichigo sensed that things were about to fall off a cliff into a pit and took a few steps forward, holding his hands with his palms up and out in appeasement.
“Listen, I thought about it and…”
“And what? You walked into the storage area and shot it down on first glance! You didn’t even give it a chance before you started picking it apart, Mr. High and Mighty!”
Rukia whirled around and Ichigo got a good look at her face, her bright pink cheeks, and at how much fury had built up in her dark blue eyes, once she’d brushed her sweat-dampened bangs out of the way. He had just enough time to think ‘I’m a dead man,’ before she tore into him.
“Do you know how hard it is to find a spot like this? A place we can train AND live, if we’re careful? Did you give any thought to how vulnerable we are in this city? Yoruichi can change her looks, but the rest of us are sitting ducks if a patrol spots us! We still have to deal with those stupid insects too! This place is a palace compared to what I and… Renji…”
She couldn’t finish the sentence and Ichigo tried again.
“Rukia, I took another…”
A few more steps in her direction and he could see moisture brimming along her lower eyelashes. Her hands balled into fists and she went so far as to shake one of them at him. She really hadn’t heard him, he realized, just as she really got into chewing him out, her volume increasing by the second.
“I’M SICK OF YOUR ATTITUDE TOO! IT’S NOT JUST YOU THAT LOST EVERYTHING! IF WE’RE EVER GOING TO GET IT BACK, WE NEED TO GET STRONGER!”
Before Rukia could continue, and before the tears in her eyes ran down her flushed face, Ichigo reached out and snagged her wrist. Dragging her against him, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, the way he would have done when one of his little sisters decided to throw a tantrum as children. That put her in a prime position to kick his shins, but bruised legs were preferable to what her fists could do. Instead of attacking his lower body with the toe of her shoe, she went stock-still, and he took advantage of their difference in height to press her head against his chest. Doing so cut off her diatribe and he took advantage of it.
“Cut it out, Rukia. Let a guy say he’s sorry, all right?” he muttered. They’d had a chance to stop by a public bath yesterday and her hair still smelled faintly of the lilac-scented shampoo she’d used, which proved temporarily distracting. Ichigo expected her to put an end to it by elbowing him in the ribs or hitting him in the chin with an uppercut for invading her personal space. When none of that happened, he drew back and looked down at her.
“Rukia? Hey, talk to me…”
“How are we ever going to recover what Aizen stole from us if we don’t train as hard as we can?” he heard her say, her lips moving against the fabric of his T-shirt. There were a few wet blotches on it too, where it had soaked up the saltwater. “We have to be ready to fight anything, or anyone that he throws at us when he decides he’s had enough of letting us roam free.”
The fear that the usurper would use the captive Shinigami against the Escapees was always present. They had discussed it many times, but as the years went by and the Seireitei grappled with the Swarm, Ichigo assumed that the hunt for them had been shuffled to the back burner. That didn’t mean that he didn’t dread a scenario in which Yammy Llargo forced Kuchiki Byakuya to track them down… or worse, sent what was left of Abarai Renji. One of Ichigo’s biggest regrets was that he hadn’t killed Szayel Apporo Grantz when he’d lost control during that ill-fated rescue mission, even if what Yoruichi had reported was true, that the candy-pink abomination was dancing to his little sister’s tune these days. Served the prancing monstrosity right. If he ever got the chance, he’d finish the job of reducing the Espada’s mask to dust…
…right after he turned Grimmjow’s Jaegerjaquez’s guts into violin strings. Ichigo didn’t know how to play a musical instrument, but that might prove to be incentive enough to learn.
“I know. Look, you’re right,” he sighed heavily. “We haven’t been able to do much this last winter and I didn’t want to have to go crawling to Ishida-sensei unless we had no other choice. I don’t want to involve Yuzu in any of this. I don’t want her to have to scrounge like we do, for everything. I don’t want her to have to constantly look over her shoulder, or make do with sleeping in a place like this…”
Ichigo said the last without really thinking, and then paused as he realized he was right back to square one with Rukia. In response, she tilted her head up to glare at him and it was very hard for him to meet her gaze when his Hollow had shown him what a much different expression on her face might look like.
It was time to backpedal.
“No, I mean… uuuhhh… I mean, it’s already hard sharing space with everyone. It’s like we’re all on top of one another, all the time. Yoruichi and Hiyori… and you… and um… Nel-chan…”
From the way her scowl deepened Ichigo knew he’d said the wrong thing and frantically tried to think of something, anything that would steer his rapidly sinking ship away from the iceberg that Rukia could, literally, drop on his head. The problems with their current arrangement weren’t limited to the women, so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind and prayed that she would take what he said at face value.
“Kenpachi snores!”
Rukia pulled away just enough to stare up at him in surprise, opening her mouth to say something and then shutting it when he failed to come up with anything else. However, her scowl moderated to a mere frown.
“True,” she finally said, some of her irritation evaporating as she disengaged and walked to one of the windows. Her hand gingerly brushed aside one of the vertical plastic slats, bleached white after years of exposure to sunlight and she peered out across the top of the nearest building. “We can hear him in our room. How you and Hachi sleep is beyond me.”
Ichigo let out the breath he was holding, relieved that she wasn’t going to freeze him solid for a nonexistent crush on someone he already considered ‘off limits’. At the same time, he felt oddly bereft at the loss of physical contact. Nel was constantly hugging him, for one reason or another, and yet Rukia’s brief embrace left him almost as unnerved as her earlier anger.
Maybe it was because a hug, or indeed, any expression of vulnerability from Rukia was unicorn-rare. He coughed into his hand and used the gesture to recover his composure.
“Badly, if that’s what you mean. Why do you think I stole all of those packages of foam earplugs from the last jobsite? They’re meant to muffle the sound of a jackhammer…”
“So that was why Yoruichi had to kick you awake?”
“Sort of,” he admitted and his left hand moved of its own volition, rubbing the spot on his bicep where the toe of the older Shinigami’s boot had caught him three mornings prior. “Tell you what… let’s tell them about this place. When Yoruichi gets back, we’ll give her a tour, maybe see what she says. She has the final say, after all.”
Rukia’s posture relaxed and Ichigo could tell it was an acceptable compromise. It wasn’t a full-on endorsement of making this their new safe-house, but it wasn’t a dismissal either. “She’s due in tonight, so we could show it to her as early as tomorrow.”
He added a smile to this, and she rolled her eyes, wise to his attempt at appeasement.
“Fine, Ichigo. By the way, it’s our turn to cook dinner. What’s left of your last paycheck?”
A groan escaped him as she walked past, accompanied by a number that, by the way Rukia wrinkled her nose, was lower than she expected.
“If we add that to my take-home pay for this week, I think we can keep ourselves fed… if we stick to sales,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.
Ichigo braced himself for a few hours of hauling bags of groceries down the convoluted path to their current hideout and began to put together a checklist of foods that would be both easy to carry and required nothing more than a microwave oven for preparation. Meanwhile, he followed Rukia out of the room and was immediately plunged into seeming darkness. For a second, he feared that his Hollow was going to show him yet another raunchy possibility involving two women that, in real life, would pulverize him for such thoughts.
The smaller hand that closed around his wrist forced a yelp out of him, but kept him from stumbling.
“Hey, steady there, Ichigo! Are you sure you’re okay?”
His eyes, used to the bright sunlight in the corner room, hadn’t adjusted quickly enough to the gloom in the hallway. Rukia’s grip on him tightened, until he covered it with his larger one.
“Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. Gimme a moment. If we do end up here, we’re going to need some new light bulbs. How much does the convenience store where you work charge for them?”
Ichigo heard her shift from one foot to the other, and then a low snort that might have been a stifled laugh.
“Too much, if you ask me, but put that on the ‘maybe’ shopping list, will you?”
Compared to the frosty disdain or the exasperation she’d shown earlier, he’d gladly take the half-smile he saw on her face.
“Sure thing. Let’s see what we can scavenge for supper. Yoruichi will likely be famished and you know how much she can put away.”
Rukia had enough grace to wince at the shared memory of stacks of dirty bowls piled to the ceiling of Urahara’s shoten, a sign that the ravenous woman had decimated his pantry.
“Hmph.” The little Shinigami struck one fist against the open palm of her other hand. “Three bags of rice then. Let’s see how long we can make it last.”
Then her voice lowered to its normal, cautious cadence and she wrapped one arm around her torso.
“I hope she has some good news for us.”
They retraced their steps, the metal staircase vibrating beneath their feet and Ichigo silently thanked the powers-that-be for allowing him to make it to the bottom floor without further mishap. He also prayed, for all their sakes that some sympathetic force would grant Rukia’s wish and ensure that she never, ever found out about the cause of his lost footing. The last thing he wanted to do was make whatever weird tension that existed between the petite menace and the overly-demonstrative Arrancar any worse. The idea of Sode No Shirayuki’s blade buried hilt-deep in his gut was enough to think that throwing himself off of the warehouse’s roof would be a nobler, easier death.
*****************************************************************************
Six hours later, the possible safe-house was the last thing on his, Rukia’s or anyone’s mind. In fact, Ichigo felt as if the ceiling and all the floors above him had collapsed on his head, pinning him in place to make certain that there would be absolutely no escape from a wholly unexpected predicament.
The yellowish overhead light in the basement room that served as the Escapee’s communal living quarters cast a strange sickly glow over the proceedings. It wasn’t exactly and the gang of eight misfits camped out in it made it feel smaller.
Especially when Rukia flung her arms around Nel’s shoulders and began sobbing into the taller woman’s shoulder.
“Thank you, Nel-chan! Thank you so much! T…thank you… you’re the only o...one…”
The rest dissolved into what Ichigo could only describe as a veritable torrent of relieved tears, lost amongst the sounds of grief held too long in check, mixed with wild new hope. His own eyes were hardly dry, though unlike Rukia, his nose wasn’t running… yet. Part of him was still processing the information Yoruichi had brought back with her and it still felt unreal.
Supposedly, Abarai Renji, that loud-mouthed, tattooed, too-tall oaf, was back to his old self. Orihime had put the red-headed idiot and his shattered Zanpakuto to rights, against all odds. Yoruichi’s eyes had practically gleamed with satisfaction as she’d relayed the story. Better yet, in Ichigo’s opinion, was that Karin had voluntarily divulged the news to the ex-Taichou. To him, it was proof that his little sister wasn’t too far under Grimmjow’s corrupting influence, and that she finally understood how precarious her situation really was.
Yoruichi’s immediate exploitation of both Renji’s and his sister’s vulnerable positions was less welcome, though understandable. However, the plan she’d cooked up on her way ‘home’ make him think she’d lost her mind somewhere in the Dangai. Nel looked equally uneasy about it, though there was a matching amount of resolve in her eyes as well.
“So, tell me Hachigen, do you think you can pull this off, in such a short amount of time?” their leader asked as she toyed with a stray grain of rice in the bottom of her bowl of curry.
The answer, if one could call the long, low ‘hmmmmm’ to his left, sounded iffy. The rumbling, menacing chuckle to his right was no better. Worse, the large palm pressing against the top of Ichigo’s head bore down on him with increased force. When he squirmed, it only got worse.
“Yer goin’ nowhere, moron. Eyes straight ahead, if ya know what’s good for ya!”
Ichigo snarled at the giant, but knew better than to get into it now. If he tried to follow his first urge, which was to mount an immediate rescue of Abarai, the berserker would do one of two things: make Ushōda Hachigen sit on him until he asphyxiated, or unleash Yachiru on him with a bellyful of candy. Either way, Ichigo was stuck staring at the uncomfortable scene before him with no hope of escape.
“If the Kido shields around the room use the same configuration I put in place all those years ago, I believe I can manage something. It will take me some time and I’ll need a much larger working space,” the huge Vizard finally answered. “I suppose it would be too much to ask if you…”
Yoruichi held up one hand, palm forward, and then used that same hand to fish around in her haori for something. Finding it, she tossed a small object to Hachi, who caught it in mid-air. It appeared to be organic, because Ichigo swore he saw a tiny tentacle waving in the Vizard’s open palm. For the umpteenth time, he reflected on just how big the differences between tech in the Seireitei and Living World really were… and now messed up the former appeared.
“It took a lot of sneaking around the former 12th Division, but I finally got my paws on this. You can extract the information you need on that particular level’s security measures. From what I could tell, with my understanding of Kido barriers, it’s nothing I haven’t see you put together every time we need to place camouflage on a new base.”
“Hachi-kun’ll do whatever it is you need! I can vouch for his skills in that department, but do ya think Pineapple-head is gonna play along?” Sarugaki Hiyori chimed in, leaning against the room’s closed and bolted door. The skepticism in her voice was thick enough to cut. “He’s like Kurosaki here… too honest for his own good to be a decent spy. This all depends on whether he can keep Nel-chan’s Claim a secret.”
“We’ll have to trust Karin-chan to explain things to him…” Yoruichi replied, appearing unconcerned. Then she looked pointedly at the two women kneeling in the middle of the little conference, one still murmuring ‘thank you’ into the first woman’s blouse. “… or Nel-chan can convince him. Think you can do that? He’s got a pretty thick skull.”
Nel flushed in embarrassment and with some difficulty, freed one of her arms from Rukia’s fierce, teary embrace. She stroked the Shinigami’s dark hair, attempting to soothe her. Watching the two did not help Ichigo, as the whole tableau brought back every tawdry image his Hollow had dumped on him that afternoon. To add insult to injury, his treacherous brain began to supply him with a host of new, depraved scenes that involved a naked Nelliel, an equally naked Rukia and the treasonous erection barely concealed by the folds of his T-shirt.
“I… well, I… I’ll do my best,” Nel stammered and made an uncomfortable noise as Rukia threw away all decorum and planted a kiss on the former Third’s cheek. There was no sign of the icy irritation she’d displayed towards the Arrancar in the past few months. Instead, it was as if spring snowmelt had arrived early. Though she made a face at first, Nel eventually gave in and returned the hug. At that moment a lecherous wolf whistle, audible only to a mortified Ichigo, grated along every nerve in his body.
Ain’t that an inspirin’ sight, King? Too much clothing tho…
The young man slouched forward, tucking his chin down and pulling his knees to his chest. With luck, the others would assume he was merely relieved, rather than trying to enter Jinzen in order to tear his meddlesome, noxious Hollow a shiny new hole.
- 14
- 15
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Prize of Victory 1.5	By : NovaAlexandria Category: Bleach > General Views: 14938 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach nor profit from my works.

Prize of Victory 1.5