Adult-FanFiction.org : Bleach

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
- 21
- 22
- 23
Chapter Twenty-Two
By Ray
“I’ll give you an ultimatum, Yumichika. Either you tell Ikkaku or I will. And I assure you, if I tell him, my words will do you no favours.”
In his own way, he knew once those words left his mouth… his explanation, what had happened… it would all come crashing down. There had been so many times he’d imagined telling Ikkaku his secret. In every scenario, the bald man would look disgusted; he’d push him away…
And now, here he was, chasing the love of his life down the street, back to the dojo, from where they’d been sitting on a bench in the park.
“Ikkaku, wait!”
“How could you hide something like this from me?”
“I-If you hadn’t started a fight with those guys in the first place none of this would have happened, Ikkaku! I begged you not to go out looking for trouble after what happened last time!”
“Oh yeah, you’d have liked that right? That way your little secret would have stayed that way!”
He rushed to him now, catching his lover by the shoulders and forcing him to face him, with much more strength than he’d normally demonstrate in front of him. Never before had his heart been pounding like this – he’d never been in a situation where he’d lose someone like this…
“Don’t you dare walk away from me, Ikkaku Madarame? Can’t you understand how terrifying it is when you just disappear or run off and appear in hospital the next day?”
Firm hands rose up and shoved Yumichika hard, sending him stumbling backwards.
“I can’t believe you – looking down and lecturing me when you’ve had training! Was it fun looking down your nose at us all? You’re such a fucking hypocrite! I can’t even look at you – and I fucking knew there was something going on with you and Hisagi!”
“It was just that one time – we just kissed!”
“And what’s that – another lie? Did you tell Renji something similar when you were fucking me behind his back?”
“It’s nothing like that! I’m not fucking him – it’s not the same at all! I love only you…” he could feel his throat tying in knots as he spoke, “I-I was just frustrated – I should’ve told you what I could do… I shouldn’t have hidden that part of myself – I was just so -! I was scared you’d reject me!”

“W-Well…” he’d never heard his lover’s voice tremble like that, “Well… consider your fears well grounded. It’s over.”
For a moment he didn’t even recognize himself as he heard a shrill voice practically scream out…
“No – it’s not – it’s not over!”
Yumichika broke into a run as his lover stepped through the gates back to his home; he grabbed Ikkaku by the shoulders and pushed him against the wall, holding his shoulders tightly as he kissed him powerfully. He could feel his own tears running down his face; the kiss was clumsy, passionate only due to the desperation of not wanting to lose him. For a moment, Ikkaku kissed him back, his hands rising to Yumichika’s shoulders… and then he pushed him off, his breath slightly ragged from the kiss.
“Get out of here, Yumichika.”
His legs moved as if on automatic, his feet turning him and carrying him further and further away from Ikkaku. His arms were shaking and he could feel his throat tensing as he fought back every rampaging emotion dancing through his body like wild fire.
For as long as he could remember, he’d been scared of abandonment. It was one of his… less attractive features. Perhaps it was due to having a father who came and went over the years, never consistent enough but loved more dearly than anyone. Yumichika had been so scared of him returning because no matter how great his dad would be, Koga’s return was always leave him second-guessing himself in case his behaviour caused the man to leave faster. Every time he’d open up his heart, and every time his heart would break when his dad left. It made him put a lock on his heart and watch that lock very closely. So people would never get close enough to hurt him.
Once someone was let into his soul, they’d see he wasn’t very beautiful in his heart… almost like that Cullhlhourne had said; then they’d reject him and he’d have to deal with it. He’d never felt more anxious than he did today as he collapsed onto the ground half way back to his apartment.
* * *
Byakuya Kuchiki glanced at his reflection in the mirror of his car, as he drove towards the Zaraki training school. In a way he wondered if he was insane for going through with this second date. Especially considering how it came about… the older man said darkly, “So when are we doing this again?”
Without even thinking, he found himself replying, “Is next Thursday appropriate for you?”
It lead him to ask himself the question over the next few days… why had he answered him that? All the other man had asked of him was one date – when during the two hours they spent together, did he decide that he wanted to repeat this, to offer the chance of getting closer – another date would… lead to the possibility of a relationship with this man?
Byakuya brushed up his tie, letting out a deep sigh, as he turned down the street, applying a little pressure to the brakes. His ride here tended to switch between fast and slow… he was, in his later years, attempting to drive himself more and use the chauffeur less. Everything he’d done as a young man had been done with care, his mother died shortly after Rukia was born; his father had always been fickle, always off doing something else. Their servants under the watchful eye of their grandfather raised him and Hisana. Any person in their life, tutors for lessons, tutors for horseback riding, and tutors for driving when Byakuya reached his late teens… had all been judged to assure they were the best possible option for children of the Kuchiki Clan. He could remember the man who taught him to drive; he’d been a sketchy, stiff-faced man who was dangerously thin and jittery. He kept saying it wasn’t important for him to master driving completely – as he’d always have the opportunity for a chauffeur. Since he passed his test – and he was sure they ignored the curb he hit… three times, the cone he knocked over and the red light he stalled at… because of he was a Kuchiki – his driving had only gotten worse.
He hoped Zaraki would have means of driving to… wherever they were going for today’s date; because he could imagine that arrogant man’s cocky smirk right now – as he stalled again. The Kuchiki bowed his head as he switched the car off and frantically started it back up, wincing as the accelerator shot forwards, the car jolted… Any car fan would have considered it abuse to see the Mercedes Benz jolting and stalling like that… Damn it… what was he going wrong?
As he managed to set the car off again, now moving slowly, but smoothly down the street, Byakuya considered the last date… smirking gently as he considered the very fact he enjoyed himself was a complete surprise; there was a rugged charm behind Zaraki-Sensei… one he was almost sure he could get used too.
The man was quiet and to the point, but not at all shy about his thoughts or feelings. He was brash and self-serving, confident and not phased by making other happy, contrary to his own thoughts and feelings. Byakuya envied him – here was a man who was not afraid of saying what was in his heart. Kenpachi Zaraki was the utter contrast to Byakuya – and though he’d never say it to his face, he admired him for that. After all, being the head of such a prestigious family was no easy task. His conduct had to be exemplary; his every action was a model of what his family was. Now he’d earned a respectable name in the business world, the pressure was off, but not forgotten.
During dinner at the quiet and not too formal restaurant Byakuya suggested – appropriate for himself and Zaraki – they’d argued with heated small talk; he learnt about the other man’s students and a lot about how he constructed his school. Here was the Head of the Kuchiki family, enjoying listening about common things and teenage thugs like Madarame-san. The training programme was so thorough and interesting. It almost surprised him that so much discipline and skill was involved; of course he knew what martial arts entailed, but he’d never had the time of day to properly consider it.
He had also learned, to his surprise, that the stern sensei had a daughter, a little girl of five years. Her name was Yachiru; instantly it got Byakuya wondered what sort of parent this man was… he’d skimmed over the unspoken fact that this little girl had to have had a mother. Especially considering the fact, from his glance at the photo Zaraki had taken from his wallet, the cute little girl didn’t resemble her father at all. It made his heart ache a little as he thought about how he and his wife had once spoken of having children… he’d have adored the chance to have a little girl – in that respect, perhaps Zaraki-sama was the more fortunate of the two. Byakuya swallowed a little, thinking back to Madarame-san’s words… about how he had made Rukia miserable. Maybe any child he’d have raised would end up miserable also. It exposed his fears that perhaps that Rukia hated him in her heart.
He was grateful that she watched him with such respecting eyes. She was a humble, good-natured child. Naturally, Byakuya had his fears as he took in his sister of twelve – he hadn’t seen her since Hisana and Rukia left with their father. What right did he have to rule over a child who had grown up far away from him, not even knowing her heritage as a Kuchiki?
One thing however, had caught his attention on a more personal basis… it was the photograph Zaraki had produced from his wallet. It was small and the camera quality was clearly poor… but it was a photograph of Zaraki-Sensei and his daughter, stood with twenty of his students, all smiling, some taking on dramatic kung-fu poses, others holding bamboo swords. He’d recognized Madarame-san stood on Zaraki’s left; he was the only bald student, so he’d pretty much stood out. It was the man beside him that caught his attention. A good looking slender young man with a dark bob cut in expensive looking clothes rather than loose fitted dojo uniform.
“And who is that?” he’d asked, chuckling lightly, “He doesn’t look like one of yours, Zaraki.”
“That?” The man had squinted, reaching out and taking it back, before sighing, “That’s Ikkaku’s boyfriend, he’s a model, works for those Vizard guys, Yumichika Ayasegawa.”
It struck him there; he’d seen that face all over town. But he’d never really taken a good luck, after all; one doesn’t gape miserably at every billboard of bus stand advertisement. It simply wasn’t the sort of thing he paid any mind too. It wasn’t until Zaraki said the boy was named Ayasegawa that it really struck his memory.
His father had a secret shame, during the years before Rukia was born; Koga Kuchiki disappeared off to spend his nights with a secret lover. The woman’s identity was learnt after his father passed away in prison when Rukia was eleven or twelve. Apparently she had dated his father when the two of them were young, and she’d served as his secret mistress during the less fortunate years of his marriage many years later. Her family name was Ayasegawa: a single mother with three sons, the eldest two were the spawn of her husband who died during his army days. The third son, Yumichika Ayasegawa, was the bastard of Koga Kuchiki and this woman.
After his father’s death, Byakuya and his lawyer visited Ayasegawa-san in person at her home. He felt only disgust for the woman as she looked away when his lawyer told her Koga Kuchiki was dead. She was two years older than his father, and it was clear she had been beautiful as a young woman; her boys all had the same wisteria eyes. She was reasonable, she understood the situation Byakuya was in… having a father who died in jail would shame the Kuchiki family enough, without a secret mistress and a poor bastard child bought into the equation. But he loathed her on sight; in a childish way he’d blamed her for what happened to his family. Even during the time his father had lived only with Hisana and Rukia, he came away from them to see this woman’s beloved son.
That day they paid her off for her silence: they gave her money so Yumichika Ayasegawa would never know he had inheritance to the Kuchiki family. He’d never know that the money the Kuchiki Clan paid his mother sent him through education. Byakuya remembered leaving the house; he passed the boy on the way out. He wouldn’t have been very old, fourteen or fifteen; he looked different back then. He wore his hair longer, tied into a short ponytail, and his clothes were sharper… like some sort of cat-walk style Yankee… He’d listened for a moment outside the apartment; the two of them had quarrelled… from what he’d heard the boy was anxious about his father. From the sound of his words, whenever an official looking person came by, the boy was sure he’d hear news of Koga. A part of him felt guilty, achingly guilty as he heard the boy shout after his mother as she disappeared into the back rooms.
“Where is he, Mum? Where’s my dad?”
During moments like that, he’d have to acknowledge that, perhaps, he wasn’t the only one who struggled… who hurt in times like this. Although he did little, to nothing towards it, he knew Rukia was hurting. He just… didn’t know how to approach her, how to help her. It left him with an inconsolable anger for his father; a selfish man who lived on his whims and impulses, which messed up every child he ever spawned. He couldn’t even bring himself to pretend he was sorry for his death when he attended the funeral, and he certainly wouldn’t let Rukia attend. Her heart was broken after the death of the care-worker Koga shot. She blamed herself because she was like Byakuya himself.
Byakuya leant his head down, rubbing his temples, releasing a tiny groan, before he pulled back, parking his car outside the training school. God, he sighed, what was he letting himself in for? He felt so twisted and alone… was it really something he could let a person into his heart for?
“Hey,” drawled a cold voice, and fingers tapping against the window of his car, “You gonna let me in or not, Kuchiki?”
He stared up at Kenpachi Zaraki… who was looking down at him with that same stern, cocky expression. When their eyes met, his mouth drew into a smile – or a smirk, would probably be a better way to put it. For the strangest reason, almost beyond his comprehension, he felt a tranquil sense of peace come over him. An unusual feeling that despite his fears… everything would work out.
“No,” he sighed, “and get your hands off my car.”
***
He thought when he became a lawyer he’d never have to obviously break the law again… having an unlicensed gun didn’t count, nor did any beatings he tended too… However, kidnapping someone never really came to mind. Yet here he was, sat in the back of a white van, waiting for Ulquiorra to come back with one Hirako Shinji-san from Vizard. Like most of his questionably legal activities, Nnoitra caught wind of them a few hours before they occurred; Stark rang him at stupid o’clock to tell him to get dressed and be outside in ten minutes. The fact that Stark was ringing him early in the morning was a fairly insane notion… Still, he’d dressed, rung Tesla to tell him not to get him coffee (which always served as an indicator to his assistant that he’d be off performing beatings and such… this also meant later Tesla would make a ridiculous scene (like last time, he’d asked him loudly, in front of several of Halibel’s assistants, ‘Nnoitra-sama, did you kill anyone?’)), and found himself on the way to kidnap a CEO.
It was a sorry looking bunch, Grimmjow was sat in the driver’s seat, wearing a baseball cap rather low down to hide his face and his jacket collar done up; rather looking like he’d been forced into this. Most likely by Ulquiorra, who was the only one who looked prompt and ready to act… bloody asshole. Stark looked like hell, he kept rubbing his eyes and dropping off to sleep in his seat beside Nnoitra in the back. (These seats were more like conveniently placed boxes, any sharp turns sent them jerked forwards and swearing at Grimmjow) And worst of all, sat opposite him, looking rather exhausted, was Szayel.
To say he wasn’t over the over man would be simply ludicrous… every time he was in his presence he was consumed with the shame of what he did, and the regret that he wouldn’t be able to hold him, or kiss him or fuck him ever again. In fact he was sure if their elbows accidentally brushed, Szayel would avoid him for a month. How was he expected to move on when he was still in love? How could he be expected to look at those perfect features, those deceptive dark eyes and taunting smirk… and not want him?
Another sharp left sent him jolting backwards, grunting in pain he reached over Stark to bash his fist against the wall separating them from the driver’s compartment, “Hey, Grimmjow! Where did you learn to drive, you fucking bitch?”
He was sure he heard the blue haired man shouting back, “I’d like to see you do better, asshole!” But it didn’t really matter, Nnoitra sat back, smirking a little to himself at how Stark was unmoved by the sharp turns, slumped slightly onto the side, noticeably snoring now.
“I see your language hasn’t improved,” Szayel said suddenly, breaking the hideously awkward silence in the back of the van.
It surprised him a little that the pink haired man would bother starting a conversation between them. Perhaps he was bored by the quiet… after all; nobody wanted to be utterly quiet with just the sound of Stark’s snoring to show there was any life in the car.
“No, it hasn’t,” he said awkwardly. He wanted to say something else, he wasn’t sure what. In fact, it was difficult to know what to say to Szayel. It had been so long since they’d been together socially or conversed at all, he had no idea where he stood with him anymore. Every day he craved getting things back how they were. The more time passed, the further and further Szayel became; it was clear that his heart had been deeper than Nnoitra had ever known. Every time they were together all he could think of to say was, ‘I love you, please don’t turn me away again’. It was utterly pathetic; he wasn’t supposed to be a slave to his heart like this. It was damn undignified… he’d voiced all of these horrible miserable feelings about Szayel to Tesla, and he’d felt like such an idiot for it.
Szayel shrugged his shoulders and looked in another direction, eyes scanning across the boxes.
“Err,” Nnoitra cleared his throat suddenly, finding a new string of words, “It was cold last night.”
“I suppose so,” he sighed dismissively.
“I mean… last night was the 1^st of a new month… so you’d have been doing your… thing.”
Now the pink haired man looked openly surprised, “You remember when I do my ritual?” His eyes widened slightly, turning to look at the dark haired man again, there was some humour in his tone, but mostly awe. Getting Szayel to look at anything in awe (that didn’t have anything to do with medicine or technology…) was a task worthy of Aizen-sama. He was never surprised or admiring of anything, he went through life looking uncaringly at everything else around him. He said it to Nnoitra one night as they sat on the balcony of his apartment… but when he’d said it, he had such a sad look on his face. Almost like he wanted to be surprised and excited by life but he lacked the same emotional function as someone like Nnoitra or Luppi. In fact, if he thought about it, Nnoitra remembered thinking his lover looked really lonely, it was just like the expression he’d had when Nnoitra admitted he’d slept with someone else.
“Yeah, I remember you doing your thing,” he laughed nervously, but kept his expression steady. “You had a routine, every first day of the month at night and at the end of every year just before midnight.”
“Well,” he spoke up, then held his tongue, a small smile spreading over his face, “well I never.”
He was sure he saw a soft smile on the pink haired man’s face, just the hint of one.
The van suddenly jilted to a halt, Stark jerked away, shouting rather loudly, “I wasn’t asleep!” To which Nnoitra looked away, sniggering to himself, inwardly smiling that Szayel had done the same.
In a way he felt a considerable amount of pity for Stark. He was excellent at his job despite being lazy as hell, which was never a likeable quality… and he was ruggedly handsome in a way women would fall left right and centre for. Everyone thought of him as someone dependable, Ulquiorra never spoke down to him and Aizen-sama was prepared to pretty much let him do as he pleased. A flashy work intensive job as a P.I. didn’t really suit someone as lazy as him, but Stark had a reason for accepting a job that clashed with his laid-back personality. It’s not an easy world for a single parent; his wife had left due to, as Stark himself would put it on numerous occasions, “She just couldn’t stand the sight of me anymore”. His daughter spent her weeks bouncing back and forth between them, though spent considerably more with her lazy father as (despite how she tried to hide it) adored him. The guy spent so much time trying to make her happy. When you considered that, it was hardly a wonder he slept all the fucking time…
There was a bump and a slam as the van door closed, he could hear footsteps leading around it, then stopping as the person opened the sliding door. Light shot in like a very difficult rainbow… causing all three of them to wince, before recognizing the stern, apathetic face of Ulquiorra, whom Nnoitra was beginning to suspect of being a robot. He climbed into the back of the van with cat-like grace, half squatting and leaning in to address them. He was very short; Nnoitra had noticed this the first time they stood next to each other. Ulquiorra was scarcely taller than Luppi (who was fucking tiny), so it probably didn’t help that he was always stood beside the likes of Aizen-sama, Tousen-sama, Grimmjow or himself.
“Are you all aware of the arrangements?”
The three of them nodded; it was fairly no shit as far as Nnoitra was concerned. Sit here quietly, put on your mask, Ulquiorra would message Stark once the target was close, then they were to leap out of the van and drag him inside. Szayel was to bind his hands, Nnoitra was to blindfold him and Stark was to shake him around a little to disorientate him so there’d be no chance of him discovering or recognizing the driving route to Aizen-sama’s home.
“Yes.”
“And do you all have your masks?”
Nnoitra pulled the balaclava over his head; he had it tucked into his hood as he always wore this jacket when he went out on his less than legal dealings. Stark put on a plain cheap Halloween mask, it was held together with a piece of string and made a ‘thwack’ noise if you pulled it. Szayel produced a rather extravagant mask, traditional of the style of the Japanese theatre. It had shiny metal pieces attached that resembled fangs and armour… If anyone else had been leading this mission, Grimmjow for example, they would have started snapping at him that he was taking the piss. Ulquiorra however just stared at him blankly for a moment, before turning his back and sliding out of the van.
“Be alert. I should send the signal in a few moments.”
With that, the van door closed with a slight slam. And the remaining Arrancar employees sat in an uncomfortable silence.
Stark sidled up to the gap between the driving area and the back, tapping on it for Grimmjow to slide it across. They listened for a moment, hearing mostly the blue haired man’s cursing and fumbling with the stiff sliding mechanism.
“What is it, Stark?”
There was a pause.
“What do you think of my mask?”
Nnoitra snickered; Szayel felt a smirk slide across his face.
“It’s fuckin’ beautiful.”
**
Shinji Hirako had to wonder what he’d done in all his years to deserve some of the stuff that happened to him… Only he could end up with an assistant who blackmailed and bankrupted him… Only he could end up in a situation where he was at that same ex-assistant’s mercy… again! Only he could try and get revenge and end up with nothing but a really gross flesh wound from where that Luppi character had bit his shoulder during their little rumble.
And now look was happening: crazy people were kidnapping him!
Last night had been a sham, and so had the last couple of days. Kensei had ended things with his boyfriend, he’d never said what had happened exactly, but Shinji saw a few people rolling their eyes. Though they’d never tell Kensei, there was a bet between the other seven of them – Lisa, Love and Shinji betting that Hisagi-kun had cheated on him (after all, Kensei’s not spring chicken, and Hisagi-kun is), Mashiro, Rose and Hachi decided Kensei had done something (as let’s face it, they all knew what he was like). Hiyori refused to make any comment, saying it wasn’t fair to Kensei – which totally surprised Shinji as normally this was the sort of thing Hiyori jumped at (mocking the dilemma’s and flaws of others whilst being totally ignorant to her own)… Kensei had been drinking hard, talking crap and not doing his work (Hiyori had taken over his duties for the time being – and she wasn’t letting anyone forget it). He really missed that boyfriend of his… it was kind of sad.
Shinji had stayed with him for a bit, but last night he’d craved his own bed. However, because he was so scared of Kensei doing something stupid he couldn’t sleep. Really late at night he’d woken up and tried to call the silver haired man – after Lisa rang him to inform him that she’d gone to drop by Kensei’s place, to find it vacant. For the first few times, Kensei didn’t answer… and when he did, all he could hear was slurred vocals and a guitar being brutally murdered. If it had been any earlier… Shinji would have worried… but it was… stupid o’clock in the morning, so he decided he didn’t care – and Kensei could bother the general public with his drunken romantic escapades – Hirako Shinji was going to bed.
It was annoying to go to bed really late… then wake up really early – it had to suck for his normal bodily functions. When they were young, Kisuke once gave him a sedative to make him sleep… (It may have been in retaliation to Shinji’s drawing on his face and painting his toe nails while the other man was sleeping and Shinji was not) This morning he’d woken up, sent Kensei a message – hoped the man wasn’t in prison… drunk a carton of orange juice, wrote messages to himself in the condensation on the window. It was still very early when there was a knock at his door. Of all the people in the world, he really didn’t expect to see Ulquiorra-san – he’d been hoping for it to be Kensei (safe and not covered in any blood).
When Ulquiorra looked shifty and asked him to ‘walk with him’, naturally his first fear was they were being bankrupt… or in an ethical dilemma – Kensei had killed Hisagi-kun – or something like that. Frantically, Shinji pulled on his coat and began to follow the other man out. They’d literally turned the corner when this bunch of bastards jumped them!
A guy with a baseball cap rushed forwards and grabbed Ulquiorra-san by the waist, the smaller man kicked and struggled before the man pinned him to the ground. Shinji turned to run; shouting for help – then a guy in a fucking balaclava gripped his shoulder and tried to yank his hands behind his back. Shinji had screamed and kicked him hard as he could in the groin. The bastard holding him was this hugely tall skinny guy, who keeled over a little, before jerking an arm out and practically ripping the hood off his coat. Shinji started sending mad flailing swipes at him, kicking him and landing a few blows. It was absolutely terrifying – he’d punched him in the stomach and turned to run off – when the man grabbed his shoulder and lifted him off the ground. Instead of holding him there, he threw Shinji hard onto the ground. He groaned in pain, opening his eyes, he felt a trail of blood running down his face from where his forehead had begun to bleed. He tried to struggle to his feet, panting – breathless from the force of being thrown into the floor – the next thing he knew, that bastard was on him, holding his arm behind him from behind… his captor was a little breathless too, panting and cursing quietly.
Shinji was cursing and trying to shout for help – what the fuck was this? If they were being mugged it was fucking ridiculous! He didn’t have any cash on him… well, enough to buy him cigarettes and fuck all else… Ulquiorra would have more on him… he was working for Sosuke for fucks sake…!
“I don’t have any money, ya fuckin’ – he’s got cash not me!” he was panting, kicking and trying to dislodge the man on him.
The next thing he knew, a fucking… punk in some sort of Bushido mask came rushing out of the alley, holding a syringe! Shinji started to scream – then he felt it jam into his shoulder… at first he’d panicked (and who wouldn’t? Some crazy guy off the street giving you an injection?), but that felt… strangely medical. He began to struggle less, his head dropping against the pavement.
***
Stark climbed out of the van, yanking up his mask, “Geez, Granz, what was that?”
Szayel blinked, putting a cork on the syringe, his eyes narrowed as he took off his mask, “What does it look like I did? He wasn’t going to stop thrashing about… and I really doubt Nnoitra would have kept his temper.”
“Aizen-sama did want him back in one piece,” Ulquiorra piped up, before turning his stony gaze back to Grimmjow, who seemed to be taking a little too much delight in pinning him to the ground. “I believe it would be good manners to let me up now.”
Grimmjow smirked a little, flashing teeth, “Sorry, I always wanted to knock you down.”
* * *
It felt a little embarrassing for him, as a nineteen-year-old boy, to have had a crush on the same girl for as long as he had. Rukia had attended to same primary school as him, although she was three years younger, he liked her then. They were the same height and both liked to read. But that wasn’t why he started admiring her; despite her size, Rukia wouldn’t take bullying from anyone, she’d stand up for the weaker kids and she’d never be cruel to someone who didn’t deserve it. He liked to talk to her; he liked to listen to her talk about her day. One of his great pleasures was that they could be friends. He knew he’d been a little harder to get a hold of, now he was at college, training to be a doctor, but they made an effort to talk every week. It was a childish ambition, but one none the less… he wasn’t good enough for Rukia, she was better suited to someone who could protect her… like Sado-kun or Ichigo or Renji-kun. Still, if he worked hard, maybe one day, he’d become the man Rukia could depend upon; that was what he hoped for.
He’d returned from college for a bit of break; Ganju was coming back around the same time so they’d taken the train together. It had been fun, a little bit of an ordeal when Ganju fell asleep and filled the carriage with loud snoring… not to mention the larger boy was prone to night terrors, at one point he’d yelled out really loud and kicked Hanataro’s bag into the seats in front… jolting a rather intimidating looking guy with spiky green hair. Luckily Hanataro had managed to calmly dissolve the situation… or not, the train conductor did, making the guy sit down, and telling Hanataro to ‘keep an eye on your friend’. They’d arrived back at Karakura, feeling relieved to be home… Ganju’s older sister was waiting to pick them up in her car; Kukaku Shiba-san always caused quite a bit of attention. She was as stunning as he remembered: dark haired, green eyed (though she was wearing sunglasses today), huge chest, firm body – it was the sort of look all the boy’s in class when they were kids just drooled over. Today she was wearing a baseball cap, a pair of very short shorts, and a loose fitted hooded sweatshirt. Kukaku-san had lost her arm when she was very young, and she donned a mechanical arm for tasks like driving and such. It made her slightly weaker on her right hand side, but the constructed arm was brilliant; Ganju told him Kisuke Urahara-san had created it.
He liked Ganju’s sister, although she was a little scary – particularly strict with her brother… but it was clear she loved him very much… at least deep down. Hanataro had enjoyed the ride back with her, asking them how college was going, if Ganju was spending his money responsibly… it was almost like no time had changed and she was picking them up from school as children. Although as they drove towards the Shiba’s house, Hanataro was already eager to see Rukia – he couldn’t wait!
After he’d returned and unpacked his belongings, they’d all gone out they’d gone to Matsumoto-san’s bar, Hanataro liked it in there, and it had been a lot of fun. Afterwards they all trekked back to Ichigo’s house. It was quite a walk, but they were in a big group so it didn’t matter as much. Hisagi-san and Kira-kun were walking back together; Madarame-kun and Ayasegawa-san went off together too. He’d walked with Rukia, she seemed in good spirits, though she did say that her older brother was behaving a little mysteriously and it would worry her, if he didn’t seem to be in such a good mood.
They arrived back at the Kurosaki house to something of a dilemma. Ichigo arrived at the front door and was fumbling with his keys, managing to get it open and head straight into some late night family battle.
“Karin – come back and give Daddy a good night kiss!”
“He’s gone mad, Ichigo!” The girl grabbed her brother by the front of his shirt, “Do something about him!”

Isshin Kurosaki came to the hallway, grinning widely, “Ichigo, you’re home! And you bought your friends with you!” he went about snapping at his son to host properly, and complimenting all the girls on their ‘youthful beauty’. They managed to escape up the stairs and into Ichigo’s room: it was a bit difficult for all of them to get in, though it did prove manageable.
“I’m going to bed,” Ichigo declared, “I’m tired and I have loads of studying to do tomorrow.”
“Sounds good,” Tatsuki admitted, “I have early morning drills. And Keigo isn’t here to insist we play late night spin the bottle of something,” she shuddered, climbing onto the bed.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” he groaned, “That’s my bed.”
“A gentleman would offer his bed,” Tatsuki said simply, pulling up the covers and sliding in, “Rukia, there should be enough room for me you and Orihime in here.”
Rukia just laughed, shaking her head, “Don’t worry about it. I always sleep in the closet at Ichigo’s.”
Uryu rubbed his temples, “You say that so naturally, do you sleep here a lot?”
Ichigo groaned, “Oh yeah… Dad made a huge thing of awkwardly telling Grimmjow about it…” he began to put the spare blankets on the floor for the others to crash down on.
Renji chuckled, getting down in a spot at the far corner of the room, carefully placing out another blanket next to him, “You can… err… sleep here, if you want, Ishida.”
Uryu looked a little embarrassed for a minute, then lay down beside Renji on the floor, pulling his blanket over him, “Thank-you.”
Hanataro frowned a little, since when had those two been on such good terms? At college he shared his room with Ganju, who had the single bed, and Rin, his lab partner in Chemistry, who slept on the top bunk of their bunk bed, so he wasn’t too fussy about sleeping next to a guy, but Uryu-kun had always been very anti-social. The only time Hanataro really spoke to him was when he did his work experience at the hospital Uryu-kun’s father was in charge of. The younger boy was always there, though he didn’t speak often, and at school he didn’t seem to have many friends… unlike Renji-kun who always seemed to draw people to him. Perhaps they had become friends this school year?
Ganju spaced out on the floor, shooting Orihime a smile, “You know, this blanket is especially soft, Orihime-chan, I wouldn’t mind sharing with you?”
Orihime laughed nervously, “Thanks, but no thanks. I normally sleep on a futon, so it’s gonna be pretty exciting to sleep on a proper bed.”
Ichigo laughed; only Orihime would describe something like sleeping on a different sort of surface as ‘exciting’. He bent down to snatch the soft blanket off Ganju, “That’s mine,” he reminded him.
“Back off, I found it!”
Hanataro was thinking of sleeping near Sado-kun and Ichigo and Ganju… when Rukia’s hand shot out and tapped his arm. She was smiling tiredly, “Hey, Hanataro, you can share the closet with me, if you like? There’s plenty of room in here.”
He really hoped he hadn’t gone a funny colour as he climbed inside. She was right; there was a lot of room… mind you, Ichigo didn’t really seem like the type to have a lot of clothes. He could hear the other’s settling down back there, he found a comfortable place just opposite Rukia, using spare pillowcases and blankets for warmth. Right now, he felt very lucky.
“Hey, Hanataro,” Rukia whispered gently, sitting closer, “Are you still enjoying college?”
“Yeah,” he admitted, going a little pink, this was one of the first times they’d been alone together in ages. “It’s nice, Rukia. I get a lot of work done and I think I’ve done well in the last set of exams.”
She grinned brightly, “I bet you have. Do you still want to get a PHD and become a Doctor at the end?”
“Of course,” he said proudly, “Hopefully I’ll be able to work with Unohana-Sensei again. She was the one who encouraged me to go to medical school after all.”
“I think you’ll be just fine…” she drew off as another sound filled the room. He went to assure her it was probably just Ganju having yet another night terror or something… but no. He listened, it was a slightly… slurping sound, or light smacking… no… it sounded like someone kissing. He went red and shot Rukia a glance; she looked amused and mouthed, ‘Who is that?’
Hanataro found himself smirking, “Ganju and Ichigo,” he mouthed back, joking with her, pleased to have done so as they both began to laugh at the very idea of it. She had a pretty laugh, even when she was covering her mouth to hide it. After a moment, they both seemed to calm down; Rukia climbed up a little, pressing her face against the gaps in the wardrobe door, Hanataro following her to do the same. They peered around the room… Ganju was snoring lightly; Ichigo was fast asleep next to him and Sado-kun… Orihime had her arms spread out on the pillow, and Tatsuki was fast asleep at the bottom of the bed…
“Oh God,” Rukia whispered, surprised and amused.
He followed her gaze and caught sight of Renji-kun and Uryu-kun on the floor. He could see a mass of red hair, Renji-kun on his side, one hand clasping onto Uryu-kun’s shirt, kissing him deeply and breathlessly. Uryu-kun shoved him away suddenly, catching his breath, then his pale wrists shot out, holding onto Renji and climbing on top of him to begin the kiss again.
Hanataro looked away for decency’s sake, Rukia doing the same. She let out a sigh and dropped her head against the wall: “That idiot,” she breathed gently, laughing almost bitterly.
Hanataro shrugged his shoulders, “What on earth…”
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Romance and Rivalries