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Romance and Rivalries	By : Kinnikuman Category: Bleach > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 2658 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Neither author owns or holds any rights to "Bleach". No profit is made from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 19
- 20
- 21
Chapter Twenty
By Ray
He wouldn’t call it his finest hour… though the concept of a finest hour was a little ludicrous to him. Even the first time he’d… made love with Ichimaru-Sensei he’d been so stunned by his good fortune and the intensity of his emotions, he’d cried afterwards. No hour of his whole life had been what he’d call ‘awesome all the way’, but last night really had been a sham… from the blurs of it he could recall anyway. Izuru was sure he was becoming one of those punk kids you see on the television, who go crazy once their parents leave them alone. His family would never be able to imagine what he’d been up too nearly every night since they’d been gone. Last night he’d made a complete fool of himself…
Hisagi-Sempai kept saying to him, ‘Izuru, make that the last one’ very quietly when they were sat at Matsumoto-san’s. That was one reason why he drank hard, just to spite him. Sempai could hardly lecture anyone on irresponsible behaviour whilst intoxicated (if he could recall, at Ishida-san’s party, Hisagi-sempai had taken off his shirt whilst loudly humming stripper music… Ba-Bum-Bum-Ba-Da-Da-Bum-Bum) Sensei was working tonight, it was a shame, and he’d been hoping he would stay over at his. That was probably why he drank so heavy, he didn’t like being drunk in front of Ichimaru-Sensei; he wanted to remember all of it. He remembered falling over in the toilet and Renji coming in to rescue him. Things had been a little awkward between himself and Renji ever since the redhead became obsessed with the idea that he was being abused.
It was completely embarrassing; he couldn’t tell Renji what was seriously going on. The more people who found out about him and Ichimaru-Sensei, the higher chances would be of someone like… the school board or the police, or his parents finding out. Izuru couldn’t bear the idea of Ichimaru-Sensei getting into trouble… of being called a paedophile or worse…
The rest of the night blurred into a series of him being carried by various people. Renji, out of the toilets, Matsumoto-san, out of the back rooms, Hisagi-Sempai out of the bar… Hisagi-Sempai putting him down in some street; he could recall the older boy talking rapidly and irritably down the phone, most likely to Kensei-san. He remembered something flashing past him, it jolted him and made him vomit into the hedges… he’d heard something moving again, Hisagi-Sempai shouting something… then he saw… what appeared to be Ayasegawa-san fighting like he was in a kung-fu movie or something. He thought it was a dream, well accompanied as he blacked out afterwards. He was awake for a couple of minutes, being carried by someone, he realized later was Madarame-san, because of his gruff tone of voice, bridal style. Izuru had said something like, ‘Put me down, I’m gonna be sick’. The response to this had been Madarame-san shouting, ‘Urgh’ and dropping him on the floor. Before he went back into the realms of the unconscious, he heard Zaraki-Sensei say, ‘Ikkaku’ in a stern voice.
The next thing he remembered was being sat on a desk, trying to ring Gin; he’d wanted to tell him he loved him over the phone; as drunks tend to do with their dear ones. He’d drifted back off, and when he opened his eyes again, he’d seen Ayasegawa-san and Hisagi-Sempai sat on the sofa… they were kissing quite heatedly; Sempai had a hand on his butt… he thought he was dreaming again.
After that, Matsumoto-san had taken him home and made him a cheese sandwich, and he’d cried into her chest as he’d done on numerous occasions. He’d gone to sleep there probably, and when he woke up Matsumoto-san had been watching daytime TV with her feet up, casually snacking away on the food he’d been left.
Mornings after were never very pretty; he’d spent most of it in the toilet. In fact the whole day seemed to pass him by. After Matsumoto-san left at about noon, saying she had work to do, meaning she was going shopping; he pretty much just sat around in his living room slowly recovering his senses. At three o’clock, Ichimaru-Sensei called him to tease him about his behaviour last night; they were going to meet tomorrow night for dinner.
“He raised me, ya see, Izuru,” he’d said in a matter of fact tone, “So it’d be simply ludicrous if ya weren’t t’ have dinner with Aizen. It’s like meeting mah parents.”
He didn’t know a lot about Sosuke Aizen, mostly what he’d heard was from Momo, who’d read an interview with him three or four years ago, and became infatuated. Most girls would be fainting over a photo of Antonio Banderes or Leonardo DiCaprio… not Momo; she had a crush on the CEO of a multimillion dollar organisation, well known for his corporate brutality and charming smile… Well, he supposed you’d call it an educated woman’s taste. Either that or she just went for guys who could easily trade a sweet fatherly appearance or a darker sexier one. Though, when he said sexy, Sosuke Aizen wasn’t really his sort of man… but he could see what Momo meant…
At about five-thirty he turned off the television and made a quick dinner now his appetite was back, with a glass of water, which he’d tell himself he was going to be drinking a lot of (every day after he’d been drinking, he think to himself, ‘I’m never drinking so much again’ – naturally that promise fell flat on it’s face…). He took one of his favourite books out from his bedroom, Homer’s The Odyssey, something that had, surprisingly, been introduced to him by Renji.
To jump to conclusion that Renji read Ancient Classics would be a bit of a long shot, however the old man who ran the orphanage Renji grew up at used to put on Western videos with poor Japanese translation to keep the kids still for a few hours. Renji and Sempai both had a strange love for the original Clash of the Titans, the Odyssey and Jason and the Argonauts, Rukia-san wasn’t as fond because they didn’t have rabbits in them.
More than once someone, most likely Renji, would say, ‘Why’re you reading that again, Izuru? You must have read it a thousand times!’ The honest truth was, he enjoyed revisiting his books, when you read a book again; you notice things you didn’t the first time around. And the story of the Odyssey was never something he could tire of. The compelling tale of a man returning home from the war, against all the odds, some of epic proportion – how on earth you could tire of such a thing? Izuru’s eyes were glued to the page, knees pulled to his chest as he sat, half-heartedly munching at the bowl of cereal in front of him. His evening was set.
Or it would have been, if not for the knock at his door at about seven o’clock. For a moment, his heart leapt – what if it was Ichimaru-Sensei, now free from his work! He’d carefully placed his bookmark, tried to dispose of his dinner, smartened his appearance in the hanging mirror by the front door, and opened it, looking a little overly delighted… only to find a rather bedraggled looking Hisagi-Sempai stood in his doorway.
The two of them always looked rough after a night partying, however, today he looked totally different. He looked like he hadn’t slept, a blossoming bruise around his right eye, his bottom lip plump and swollen, his handsome face drawn into a sort of defeated smile, “Hi there, Izuru… Sorry to drop in on you like this.”
Izuru glanced at the older man; he was wearing yesterday’s clothes and a rather battered pair of shoes, his spiky hair messed up and untidy. In his left hand he was holding a duffel bag cramming with clothes. Which lead Izuru to one conclusion: he’d been kicked out.
“Come in, Sempai,” he reached past him and led him in, gasping when the older man winced when Izuru’s hand touched his elbow. The blond lead him to the sofa, offered him a drink, which Hisagi-Sempai refused; a moment’s silence passed before either of them said anything.
“I’m sorry for disturbing your evening, Izuru. You weren’t expecting anyone, were you?”
“N-No, not at all – it’s not a bother for you, Hisagi-Sempai…”
“Thank you, you’re a good friend.”
Another few minutes passed before Izuru had the courage to ask, lowering his voice, “What happened, Sempai?”
He could guess what had happened. A few weeks ago Kensei-san had persuaded Hisagi-Sempai to sell his apartment and move in with him. (A modest man like Sempai took a long time to persuade) After last night, Sempai probably felt guilty about kissing Ayasegawa-san, and felt like he owed it to Kensei-san to tell him. From there, he could guess that Kensei-san flew into a violent rage and threw Sempai out of his apartment… Although he felt a slowly rising disgust for the older man as he thought of him beating up Hisagi-Sempai.
“W-Well… I did something really stupid last night…” he began, looking like recounting what he did would be enough to make him tense up again.
“I know…” Izuru mumbled gently, trying to help him along, “You and Ayasegawa-san?”
“Yeah,” he admitted, “It was just… it wasn’t like it even meant anything… I’d just had this ridiculous fight with Kensei… He’d agreed to pick us up from Rangiku-san’s in his car, then when we got out he gave me a load of stupid directions,” his voice was a little tight, clearly irritated by the memory, “and because I was drunk, I carried you around, following them. Then you were being sick, so I put you down and rang him back… It turned out he’d been drinking with Love-san and the directions he’d given me spelt out ‘MYCOCK’… we argued down the phone for about ten minutes… Then Yumichika attacked this guy,” he rubbed his head, “I didn’t even see it… we went to Zaraki’s place, I don’t even know why it happened… I mean he kissed me…” Shuhei bowed his head. That was true, his feelings for Yumichika faded away like the summer into autumn. It was good while it lasted, but it was over, neither of them was sorry about it. It would have been easy to say, ‘Kensei, a man tried to come onto me’… ‘He kissed me, I felt nothing’… but it wouldn’t be true. Yumichika kissed him, but he enjoyed it so much he might as well have initiated it.
So he’d told the other man just that.
“Kensei, I kissed someone else.”
God, he never wanted to see that look on the other man’s face. He didn’t even look angry at first, he’d looked… sad… really sad. Then he’d said, quietly, but firmly, “How do you mean, you kissed someone else?”
“I-I made out with another man.”
“And…” he rubbed his temples, “Why did you do that, Shuhei?”
“Because… I wanted to.” That was the only thing he could say. He’d kissed him back, he’d run his hands all over that beautiful body because he wanted too… he’d wanted to touch him… for a split second before Rangiku-san interrupted them, he was running over the times in his head where he’d fucked the man pressing against him… how good it had felt, even though it was just fooling around… how that little narcissist would lose all of his airs and graces once he was being really fucked… He owed Kensei this to tell him he’d had those sorts of feelings for another man.
That was where he lost it. He flew into a jealous rage; he started yelling at him angrily, he kept jerking his hand around the apartment. His words sort of blurred together, but Shuhei got the gist of it. ‘How could you do this to me? After all I’ve done for you! I have you a home – I thought you were fucking happy – turns out you’re just a fucking stupid kid!’
“I’m sorry.”
“– Knew it was too fucking good to be true! Why the fuck would you be interested in me… Urgh – fucking little slut! Like hell you just made out with him! Like hell, Shuhei! You think I’m fucking stupid, don’t you? Clearly – everyone said – everyone said you were too good for me!”
“Kensei, I’m so sorry, I made a mistake–”
He’d bashed his hand against the table, it contacted with a vase, which shattered onto the floor, cutting the older man’s hand. He cursed and turned his back, muttering, ‘Now look what you made me do’.
Shuhei had tried to take a look at the bleeding hand, he’d wanted to try and beg him… try and get him to soothe this over… Though he deserved it, he didn’t want it to end right here. When he touched Kensei’s hand, which was when he hit him. He’d yelled out, ‘don’t touch me, you little slut’ and slapped him across the face. The blow didn’t hurt that much; it got his mouth, his lip bloody from where he’d bitten into it accidentally when the other man hit him.
He’d said he was sorry again, but Kensei turned his head away, ‘I don’t want to hear it, Shuhei! Just get out… get the fuck out of here’.
It hurt him a lot to do, but it was the only thing he really could do. It was what he deserved at this point. Shuhei had headed into the bedroom and began to grab his things together, mostly clothes and sentimental things that belonged to both of them he was worried Kensei would destroy in his absence.
Kensei came storming back into the room, looking like a man possessed, “Who was it?”
Rangiku-san had said it last night; Yumichika’s career would end if Kensei ever found out. In more sense than one: Kensei would exploit his friendship with Rose-san and Mashiro-san to make sure Yumichika never worked at Vizard again… and he’d probably do a number on his face to assure he wasn’t fit to model for anything.
“He was nobody. Just some guy.”
“Shuhei, why don’t you stop fucking lying, okay? You’ve humiliated me enough; so give me the bastard’s name?” He grabbed onto Shuhei’s arm in a vice like painful grip, as he left the bedroom and headed into the bathroom to get his toothbrush and shower gel.
“I don’t know his name! I’ve never seen him before; he was just some guy at the bar!” He managed to shake the arm off, wincing as he felt it bruising beneath his sweater, cramming the toiletries into the now rather full duffel, trying not to get tearful as he reached the front door, bending down to put on his sneakers.
“You’re covering for someone! I bet it was your friend with all those tattoo’s and the red hair! I bet it was him! I’ll fucking get him!”
There was always a line in any relationship; he wouldn’t let Kensei get away with threatening his friends. Shuhei turned on him with angry eyes, “Now listen, Kensei. I was the one, who made the mistake, I deserve your anger, and don’t you dare take it out on my friends! They’re nothing to do with this!”
“That’s bullshit! I’ve seen how you turn into a little whore, taking your clothes off after you’ve had a few beers! Why draw a boundary at your little friends, you fucking whore?!”

“I love you.”
“Get out of my house! Get the fuck out – That’s a load of bullshit!”

“I love you, Kensei.”
“SHUT UP!” He’d raised his fist to punch him… he swung… then lowered it, letting out a miserable cry of defeat. Shuhei looked at his face and saw his lover’s eyes were watering, instantly he covered them with his forefinger and thumb. He’d heard him let out a slightly strangled sob.
The sound was enough to break his resolve, and Shuhei tried to rush forwards, he wanted to hold him, to cry with him and try and make it better… but it wouldn’t work that way… he slammed the door shut just as Shuhei rushed forwards.
The front door hit him in the face; he could feel it swelling around his right cheek bone. Trying not to cry he stepped out and headed down the street, shaking slightly from the intensity of their fight.
“Sempai, do you have nowhere else to go?”
“No,” he admitted, rubbing his temples, “I have nowhere to go,” he bowed his head, covering his face in his hands, “A-And it’s over between me and him… he’ll never take me back…”
Izuru shook his head, his voice shocked and suddenly insistent, “Hisagi-Sempai, he hit you! He hit you in the face – why would you want to go back to him?”
“I love him,” he’d mumbled, “God, Izuru, I know it sounds bad… but I’ve loved him since I was…” he shrugged his shoulders, covering his face with his hands, “I got this tattoo on my face because of him…”
When he looked up, Izuru was looking relatively horrified.
“I-It isn’t like that,” he managed to let out a little dry laugh when he realized how that sounded, “I saw his tattoo when I was a punk kid… it sort of inspired me. When I met him again, Kensei-san flipped out and thought I was a mental patient or something when he saw it,” he traced the tattoo with his fingers lightly. He could still remember how wide the older man’s eyes went, he’d taken him to one side and got really angry saying he didn’t like people copying his look – particularly on their face!
Izuru shook his head gently, “Would you like a hot drink or something, sempai?” he rose from the sofa, “And perhaps an ice pack for that lip?”
“Thank you, Izuru,” he said; rubbing his head, “I’ll try not to stay too long. It’s not polite to impose on you like this… I’m going to see if I can go back to renting something similar to my old place.”
Remembering back to his sempai’s old apartment, it seemed like an even greater reason to let him stay here. Izuru had to feel horrible for the guy, he’d saved and saved to move out of the foster home; he wasn’t lucky like Renji or Rukia-san, to get taken in by kind parents. He’d never had the happiness of a loving home; his only home had been the orphanage or ones he’d built on his own… genuinely, the nicest place Hisagi-Sempai ever lived was with Kensei-san. Even his student accommodation had been nicer than the hole he’d rented…
“It’s no bother,” the blond said firmly, “really, sempai. We’ve been friends long enough to be passed that, right?”
“You’re too kind, Izuru,” Shuhei covered his face with his hand, letting out a gentle sigh, “I feel like such an idiot… Oh,” he sat upright, “What about you and your… mystery boyfriend? Are you sure I won’t be in the way?”
He tensed a little at that… the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. All that mattered in those few minutes was helping his friend through this difficult time… but that was right, it would mean he and Gin couldn’t enjoy their last few days together the way they’d planned. Inwardly he’d winced; Ichimaru-Sensei wasn’t going to like that at all. Still, they’d be having dinner with Sosuke Aizen tomorrow, perhaps they could cuddle and such… on the way home? It would royally complicate things, Sempai would worry unnecessarily if he found out about the two of them… and he’d feel guilty for continuing to tell Renji he was talking rubbish, when the red head ranted and raved.
“Oh, not at all.”
“Are you sure? I mean –”
“Sempai, I promise you, it’s not a problem,” Izuru said firmly.
When he really thought about it, Hisagi-Sempai would do the same for him. He was always blowing off the mystery man (who turned out to be Yumichika-san) when Izuru was in middle school and feeling depressed and in need of a friendly face. It would be awful if he didn’t return the favour now, Sempai was homeless, he had nowhere to go and he was all bruised from his sociopath boyfriend.
‘I’m sorry, Sensei’, he thought to himself, thinking of Ichimaru-Sensei briefly as he handed over the frozen pea’s, “I’ll put you up in the spare room? My parents won’t mind at all. They always liked you best.”
“I wish you wouldn’t keep saying that,” Shuhei laughed as he lay back on the sofa, holding the bag to his lower lip, wincing a little as the cold touched him, “Wow those are really cold… And really, you’re always trying to say your parents don’t like you. You’re still such a pessimist, Izuru.”
“I am not,” he insisted, scowling a little. Wondering if that statement was only backed up by the fact he was cursing himself and thinking how irritated Ichimaru-Sensei would be with him…
***
When Ichigo was about nine years old, his father took him and his little sister’s to this strange playhouse style place. It was large with unusual square tables that looked like they were made of Lego but weren’t. It had a bouncy castle and an indoor climbing room, surrounded by a mote full of plastic brightly coloured balls. Ichigo had never been a particularly cheerful child, aside from in his mother’s company; he was either a crybaby or sulking in the corner, not quite ready to play with the other kids. When he lost his mother, he was as stiff in terms of playing as Karin (the only five-year-old ever to accuse Pugsy the Clown of ‘violating’ her ‘personal bubble’). Anyway, this unusual place was somewhere single parents take their kids for a supportive environment and the company of other single parents.
If memory served correct, Yuzu played in the ball pit, until one of the bigger boys took them off her and made her cry. Ichigo, who had a wide combat experience at nine from serving dutifully as Tatsuki’s sparing partner, hit the guy in the nose. When the boy’s mother confronted his dad about it, he almost had the situation resolved, until Karin said rather loudly, ‘That lady wears too much make-up.’
They never returned to that strange place.
Until now…
Ichigo Kurosaki was sat on the Lego chair, drumming his fingers irritably on the table. He’d forgotten the unfortunate smell of children’s food… everything smelt like a sandwich box… it almost made him want to wrench, and made him feel happy that he was tall enough not to have his nose close to the table… but it wasn’t a complete blessing, as the tiny chair made him look like a giant. He was sat opposite his boyfriend, who looked just as uncomfortable; with a tiny but very demanding little girl between them. Right now he wanted nothing more than to leave, he wanted to kill Grimmjow. The blue haired man said he’d make up to him for the other day, and the Renji incident… and he wasn’t beyond using the adorability of his sister to try and win Ichigo back. However neither of them could believe their ears when she cheerfully demanding that she wanted to go to Rainbow Land.
“Itsygoo,” she said suddenly, tugging on his sleeve, drawing him out of his vein throbbing trail of thought.
Trying his best to pull a calmer expression, he bent down a little to address her, “Yes, Nel, is something wrong?”
“Ya ain’t eatin’ yer worms, Itsygoo!”
He cast a suspecting eye at the food on the ladybird plate in front of him. Indeed, he was sure the so called food they’d been given, did move on spurious moments… apparently they were made of pork… but he’d never seen food that looked like actual worms this much before!
“I’m saving them for later.”
“No! Ya gots to eat them while they’re hot!”
“Why don’t we share them?” he said a little reluctantly. He didn’t know if it would be right to share his potentially dangerous food with a little kid… but he wasn’t going to eat them, and she wasn’t going to drop it until he did.
“Sharing?” she glared at him suspiciously, “Itsygoo is up to something…” Her eyes narrowed and she shifted her little body up, leaning towards him, trying to maintain eye contact. Which he found very difficult as her lips were pouted and her nose running, ever so slightly…
Damn it… he glanced at Grimmjow for a little help. That idiot was meant to be her guardian, but the most disciplinary movement he’d seen him take with his sister was telling her she’d have to wait in line to ride the donkey at the beach last spring break. It hadn’t gone down well, and the blue haired lawyer was convinced nobody saw him slip that guy some cash to let them line jump… Nel was a cute kid, but she was so spoilt. Grimmjow doted on her hand and foot, and those two men who looked after her were no better. In fact the three of them played the most… unusual games. Pesche Guatiche, a skinny blond man who collected Stag Beatles and had taken a strange liking to Uryu the one time they’d met, and Dondochaka Bilstin, who decorated their large apartment with Tiki masks… along with their pet… Ichigo first believed it to be a snake, but Nel called it an eel, named Bawabawa. Again, he’d had thought it dangerous to have such a large… serpent type thing living with a little girl (who had no concept of danger)… but again, Nel insisted, so Grimmjow shrugged and said, ‘Why not’.
“Hey, Nel,” Grimmjow scooped an arm around her to draw her back into her chair, “Ichigo doesn’t want to play Eternal Food Snatch. He wants to share his… delicious treats with you. Isn’t that nice?”
She paused, almost like she couldn’t believe a person offering to share food would do it without ill intention… Then she nodded her head and pulled Ichigo’s plate between them; “Yes, thank you, Itsygoo.”
It was a relief he’d offered the so called food to Nel, as she devoured them happily, though, sweetly, or as sweetly as a runny nosed rather spoilt little tyke can be, she saved him the last one. It would have been had manners not to have at least one… especially seeing as she was pulling the face. To Nel, it was probably a sweet, pleading sort of thing, to anyone else; it was a bit of a pressurising glare. He shot Grimmjow one of his looks as he swallowed the unfortunate so-called treat. It didn’t poison him… he was sure little kids had a strange immune system they’d grow out of eventually… one that allowed them to put whatever they wanted in their mouths and not… die.
If he recalled, his own father nearly passed out when Karin and Yuzu were little; Karin had been a picky eater as a baby, and one day she’d crawled into the back garden and began to eat moss. Their mother had been at Ishida-san’s (as he’d delivered the two girls) having a check up with Yuzu, who was deemed to unhealthier of the twins; Ichigo was sat playing in the living room with Tatsuki (though playing with Tatsuki always left your arm feeling sore)… their father had come outside and seen his baby girl eating. When he asked her what it was, she just gave him a wide toothless smile. Cautiously, he put his hand in her mouth to take out whatever it was she was chewing. The next thing Ichigo heard was a piercing scream and gagging as his father threw up in a bin.
Nel happily ran off towards the ball pit, shouting something and waving her little arms around and singing. Her speech impediment was a little sweet once you got used to it. Though he did hope she’d stop calling him Itsygoo soon… that would be nice.
Ichigo shot Grimmjow a look as he shifted his Lego chair closer to him, resting a hand on his knee, which the orange haired boy quickly batted off. He turned his head and give him a rather cold calculating look, “Don’t think you’re off the hook because of your sister, Grimmjow.”
He winced and leant in closer, lowering his voice because of the nearby children, “Oh, come on, Ichigo. I said I was sorry. I was just… expressing the strength of my feelings,” he whispered, “Renji gets it. He won’t be too sore.”
“You could have done it yourself if it was really like that,” Ichigo snapped at him, his eyes narrowed, “You didn’t have to bring that psychopathic man with you… Nnoitra.”
“I was pissed off, alright?” he hissed, “That guy kissed you. Nobody’s allowed to kiss you but me!” At this point, Grimmjow realized he’d raised his voice a little dangerously, a touch of mania in his tone; he glanced nervously around the room as he saw scornful single mothers now watching the pair disapprovingly. Then back at Ichigo, who was glowering at him, just like those women.
Ichigo raised an eyebrow, “Now you’re talking about me like I’m some kind of woman.”
Grimmjow just went dark at the cheeks and added in a cold voice, “Look, you know what I mean, Ichigo. I meant it when I said I loved you. I can’t have some other guy… you know.” He let out a groan and looked away, his hand resting on the table, “Oh whatever… it’s impossible to say anything to you, damn it…” Then he felt a hand on top of his, raising his head to see Ichigo’s slightly embarrassed expression, his soft, but firm.
“I… I know.”
It was an almost perfect moment, quickly to be disrupted by the irritated groaning of a young girl in the doorway.
“I hate it here, Stark. You just go to sleep and leave me to do whatever I want. How is this spending quality time together? I wanted to go bowling!”
Grimmjow squeezed Ichigo’s hand, letting go and turning his head towards the scene. In the doorway of the building, he could see a rather tired looking Stark, rubbing his temples, taking off his coat to hand to the door woman, looking extremely tall beside his eleven year old daughter. Grimmjow only had the pleasure of meeting the enchanting Lilinette a few times… she was such a disagreeable child, the utter opposite of Stark, which was amusing considering the man had raised her on his own.
“What’s the matter, Lilinette?” he sighed, “This was your favourite place when you were little.”
“A woman’s taste can change in… five years, Stark!”
Grimmjow sighed, “Poor guy… he’s much too lazy to keep that girl happy.”
Ichigo rolled his eyes, “Says the guy who takes me along with him to satisfy the needs of his – argh!” he yelled out as he felt two little arms hook around his neck from behind, making him topple back, his feet scratching onto the floor just in time, gagging for air. In the back of his head he heard the delighted cry of: ‘Itsygoo! Come n’ play in the ball pit!’
***
“What do ya want, Sosuke?”
The pile of marked essays were gently placed on his desk, beside the radio, jazz music blaring out of it. He glanced up from his book, watching as those firm, long fingered hands reached down to the volume switch to turn down the music. Shinji lowered his feet from his desk, sitting upright in his chair and tilting back his head to look his assistant in the eye, “What do ya want, Sosuke?” he repeated.
There was something… that looked like uncertainty in the other man’s face, his eyes narrowed. Sosuke was always hard to read, but today he looked genuinely unsure of himself. It was a little… disturbing.
“I’ve been offered another job,” he said after a moment’s silence, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. “Do you want to write me a resignation letter, Hirako-Sensei?”
At that moment, he realized that Sosuke would grow away from him; it was… inevitable. It was a lonely feeling… that whatever it was they’d had, and it had been felt, by both of them, he could tell… whatever it had been, it was over now.
It was over.
Little had he known, it had been just the opposite. His statement had been a test, and Shinji had failed it.
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