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Grind	By : PhoenixDiamond Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Grimmjow/Ichigo Views: 2358 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own nada and make nada. The Bleach crew belongs to Tit Kubo. I own the plot

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
Disclaimer: In first chapter.
Author’s Rant: Enjoy
Act
One Week Late
The evening was late, a little after ten thirty. The sky was clear of its navy cotton balls, with only the moon pleasantly glowing down below with the assistance of its Milky Way star trails to a collection of hill tops, all of them vacant except one.
The property was a manicured, well kempt home sitting on six acres of land on the outskirts of L.A., away from most prying eyes and robust sounds of traffic. A rust colored tile-roofed Mediterranean-style home about twenty thousand square feet, stretched from one end to the next like the scene from a modernized past in the 1900s. Two stories from top to bottom, a large three car garage to the left and three side doors to the right, all closed tight. The Victorian fountain in the middle of a cultivated bush was shut off, not a sprinkle of water spilling from its overlapping layers.
Around the winding red brick drive way sat four luxury privileged vehicles; two locally styled, a jet black ‘96 Chevy Impala SS, comfortably settled on 26 inch black sleek rims and dull crimson inserts. The other car was parked two feet behind dressed in polish, gunmetal gray ’68 Impala nestled tight on platinum chrome 28inch rims. These belonged to the O. B. G. and O.G.
The other two were fresh engines off the lot. The one parked closest to the grassy median was a royal blue ‘10 Toyota Tundra, windows tinted pitch black, with light gray interior leather and all four wheels hugged on 20 inch gold chrome rims. The final car hanging on the outside of the three car garage was ‘11 navy painted Dodge Charger SE remaining originally organized without the hassle of additional accessories as its counter parts.
The last car to arrive, whipping hard around the circular pathway was Grimmjow and Yoruichi’s black Tahoe, and stopping behind Kenpachi’s car.
Expressions were mellow, lips thinned anxiously and eyebrows creased in a tensed fold. Grimmjow hesitated from concern over seeing a monarch grieve a dead son and the predicted rage boiling like a witch’s brew about the chaotic murder spree.
A grand total of nine crib soldiers were shot, and one runner and a ranker’s son, all killed. Mourning was allowed only for a short period of time before they would have to push it all to the back of their minds and focus on conjuring up a plan of attack.
Both Crip soldiers were dressed casual. Grimmjow was wearing a powder blue sleeveless hoodie, and a white wife beater with black acid jeans, hanging loose off his hips and some low top black Forces. Yoruichi matched from head to toe in Kimori’s Baby Phat designs, wearing a short sleeved royal blue polo shirt, a pair of hip hugging khaki capris tied with laces around her ankles and high top black and blue laced shoes. She had her hair pulled in a low ponytail pulled through the opening of her snap back, cap pulled low over her eyes.
Yoruichi sat back, blowing a labored sigh, catching Grimmjow do the same out the corner of her eye, “Ya ready?”
“Yeah,” Grimmjow grabbed his door handle and pushed out. “Let’s get dis’ over wit’.”
Neither had the stomach to speak; not from terror or anything death threatening. It was one of those moments where your stomach churned loud, gurgling a deep gutted pain when coming to terms with some bad news. The fact of Shuren’s death was just arriving home after his funeral three days ago. He would normally be cruising his crazy ass right on Grimmjow’s bumper whenever they had a Meet with the folks.
Now his ’99 Silver Mercury was nowhere in sight. Yoruichi had noticed it first when she stopped her stride half way to the house, looking at all the surrounding cars and none of them belonging to her best friend.
“C’mon,” Grimmjow roughly ordered up ahead by the oval doorway. “All dat’s water under da’ bridge now.”
“I know,” She whispered tightly. She wanted to say something to him, anything smart lipped but when she came up to his side, said “Shit still hurt G.”
Grimmjow shook his head, leaning them inside to the front lion constructed door, knocking three times, before letting themselves inside. Their presences were expected and it was their second home where they and Shuren had been raised. Their footsteps were pronouncing on the red wooden floors of the creamed interior hall, curving around a wood panel ceiling, descending further to where the pair could detect various deep voices conversating from one end to the other. The walls had various paintings, mostly expensive abstracts of native landscapes and a few of African wildlife.
Grimmjow lead the way making a sharp right into the opening of a living room foyer. The moon was all the light to illuminate the wide space décor. Two large creamed laced sofas were positioned facing each other and on each sat a higher gangsta noble, two Victorian chairs, and in the center of the area closest to an alabaster stone fireplace, was a single armchair and in it sat the longest running Crip member in the entire Alliance.
Ryuken Ishida aka Triple G. As was his usual attire, he came dressed to impress. A stalk white, Armani three piece suit as pure as his short white hair, buttoned up, with a soft blue tie, powder blue breast napkin and matching vest creased to perfection. His legs were crossed, right over left, and in his right hand was the auburn sizzle of a half mingled cigarette close to death.
Whatever conversation being discussed was silenced by a swipe of his hand and the stretch of his index toward the frontal post where his last attendants stood, “Have a seat,” He ordered through an exhale of smoke.
Grimmjow and Yoruichi stepped up, both nodding to the other gentlemen present, and sat next to Kenpachi on the sofa facing forward. Kenny refused to dress too stylish opting for a simple pair of hunter green cargo pants and a dark blue wife beater, each stitch weeping against the forceful pull across his over muscular body. On the other couch sat the second longest runner of the gang, Shunsui Kyoraku and third runner up, Gin Ichimaru, both dressed in jet black Prada and Calvin Klein suits and royal blue vests; Shunsui was missing the traditional tie that went with the outfit, deciding to simply leave the top portion of his button up undo.
Gin’s face was the picture of pencil drawn curves on his cream white face, though the angle of his sightless eyes could show he was in deep thought over what’d happened. Of all the members there, Shunsui was the most solemn. The lazed drop of his head in a single grasped hand proved his grief was still occupying his mind even after a week’s time.
Instead of taking their seats first, Grimmjow and Yoruichi walked up to Shunsui rocking him from his downcast and shaking hands, whispering support if he needed it and promises of getting the motherfuckers who killed Shuren. They had a cup of Royal Crown already poured in wine glasses and sat in the available armchairs ready for the moment of truth.
Ryuken waited, taking one long drag of his cancer stick, “Details of last week’s events were already discussed,” his deep voice hummed pass the wispy fog. “Both of you should be caught up with the problems already since you were both there.”
“Yeah,” Yoruichi said from her end. “Most of it happened near the Clinic first before it dominoed to da’ Network.”
A huff of smoke flooded the room. “It’s spilled milk now. D.G. lost a son, we lost some good boys. All we can do is move on and plan ahead.”
Kenpachi say back, tossing a thick arm behind the couch, “Movin’ on is easier said den’ done. We lost some good folks out ‘dere.”
“This life isn’t lived by flowers and candy. Everyone who wears these colors knows the risks that come with it. Nonetheless, moving on won’t be as simple as forgetting those who’d died in the front lines. With our enemies getting ahead of themselves, precautions need to be taken to a different level.”
Dragging a weary hand over his six ’o clock shadow, Shunsui looked up to the face of authority, a dark look in his eyes, “When’s the next strike?”
“A date hasn’t been scheduled, but soon.” Ryuken confirmed to a basic degree. “I don’t want to cause an uproar just yet. I want to stall, make them think we’ve been crippled hard before setting up a drive. They’d taken actions further than killing just our own.”
Grimmjow paused, “Whattdaya mean?”
Gin’s grin came full force, as he pointed a trigger finger to the young buck, “A friend of ours wife was killed in the process. She’d was leavin’ the same clinic kept under watch when they rode in five deep. Three bullets took ‘er out.” He clicked his thumb and chuckled. “T.G. nor the rest of us were too pleased to hear about this dreadful news.”
“Who’s da’ friend?” Asked Yoruichi with a curious frown.
Ryuken finished off his cigarette with one last pull between his lips and blew the remaining essence through his nose, slowly leveling Yoruichi with a steady gaze, “That’s my business to know young buck. But know this friend of ours is going to need extra some back up in while.” He stood, dropping the yellow butt in an ash tray. “That’s where you two come in.”
“Right, ya want us to keep watch over his house or somthin’?”
“Not exactly,” Ryuken flipped a switch a picture frame of a small dark haired child, his near double save for the blue black shade of his hair and the boyish smile on his face. The fireplace suddenly came to life, crackling in the artificial logs, and the entire room alit in tangerine blooms. “You’re going to keep watch over his grandchild and recruit his son into helping us kill off each Blood involved with the shootout. Afterwards, we go into motions of setting up the big blow.”
Gin cocked his head to the side, drumming his finger tips on the bridge of his knee, “S’ how many er’ we dealin’ with here? Two, five?”
“Seven.” T.G. said in a sharp tone to affirm. “Three localized and four outside the distinct. I’ll have their names given to you by next month and full surveillance on daily activities.” Ryuken turned to the young pair then. “I have a son that attends the same pre-school as my friend’s granddaughter. You two are to keep your eyes tight on their every move until I set up a transport to have them sent to Miami to live with relatives.”
“How long?” Questioned Grimmjow. “I still gotta get rid of Nakeem before da’ end of dis’ month.”
“Double dip if you must, but the children are a first priority until they’re moved in two weeks.” Ryuken sighed for the first time, showing his tired age ganging up on him. “Bloods are getting bold. I’m far from sick of this shit. Far from it,” He hissed, voice subtly anger.
“Of course ya are,” Added an amused Gin, sitting up straight. “Now all we have to do is get dis’ lil issue squared away an’ everybody’ll be happy.” He turned his animal grin to Kenpachi, staring at him until the spike haired fellow got pissed.
“Da’ fuck ya starin’ at?”
“You,” Gin stood. “So now dat’ we have a plan of action all that needs ta’ be done is act.” He returned his stare to Kenny. “Which is where you come in, Biggie Spikes.”
Kenpachi rolled his eyes, “Don’ make me fuck ya up ta’day Gin. It really ain’t da’ time.”
“I know, I know, but everyone’s too tight lipped ta’day. Lighten up a lil.” His tone died off. “Ya’ll ain’t da’ only ones who lost somebody. Ya gotta deal and roll on wit’ life.” Besides a few side glances and the same troubled eyes glaring in his direction, Gin decided not to bother offering his two cents and pinched a two finger salute from his brow, “Cool. Ya’ll can stay here, mopin’ like somebody stole ya mama’s titty. I’ma head out head to handle business. Lemme know what goes. Peace.”
“See ya man,” Grimmjow bucked his chin up. “I’ll call.”
“You do dat.”
Yoruichi sand grinded their fists and the group watched him leave around the corridor. Gins department caused a domino effect because it wasn’t long before Kenpachi was waltzing out the door, promising some free ass whoopings to anybody who wanted one and Shunsui stood as well, getting close hugs from his leader and the young bucks before stepping out.
Now alone with the only man they knew as T.G. exerting enough power to make the England Queen quiver, Grimmjow and Yoruichi wanted to see what else he had in mind for them before they set off too.
“It seems things have been getting out of hand lately,” Ryuken’s calculative analysis shattered the silence as he turned to the fire place, glasses gleaming off the flickering oranges and reds. He reached up to lift the prescription lens over his forehead, using his index and thumb to massage the space between his eyes. “How long has it been since I brought you two into my home?”
The question was random, totally out of the wood works. It wasn’t in their leader’s character to bring up subjects of the past unless benefitting the present now time. But they shrugged and Grimmjow answered. “P’bably, what” He nudged Yoruichi. “Ten, ‘leven years?”
“Close, but who’s counting?” Ishida chuckled deeply as he retook his chair, sitting heavily into the seat cushion, shifting into a comfortable position. “And in that time, many have come to call you both my own. I’ve taught you all I know, raised you into the family and never asked you nothing more than what you could do.”
“T.G.,” Yoruichi eased through the speech, unsure as she licked her lips. “Is somethin’ goin’ on? Ya talkin’ crazy.”
“B, shut up,” Grimmjow harshly jabbed her in the ribs.
“No, it’s fine, young blood.” Ryuken waved off. “I’m think all that’s taken places is weighing down on me. It’s been turmoil and all we can do is go with the flow of things like nothing’s ever happened.” His head rested against the buttoned rest, a final wind escaping his lips. “You both know what needs to be done. Give me a call when the ball rolls.”
“A’ight,” Grimmjow stood, shoving his hands in his pockets as he gestured for Yoruichi to go on without him. She hesitated for a moment, looking between them as if trying to figure out if they were keeping a secret.
Grimmjow glared at her, she glared right back and tsked her lips. “Ya don’t scare me,” She grumbled, bumping hard into his shoulder as she walked off. “I’ll see ya later T.G.”
“Hm.”
Now alone Grimmjow walked over to the family leader and squatted down by his chair, hands clasped together, baby blue eyes narrowed in a lethal glint, with a substance of concern buried in their midst. “How ya feelin’?”
“Tired,” The leader answered to his soldier. “But just needing some rest. I’ve been overdoing it again.”
“No shit. Kill all dat’ big boy stuff fer a while. Shit take a vacation er’ somethin’.”
“Hn, a vacation,” Ryuken leaned his head to the side, voice appearing resigned to sleep. “I’d prefer a better solution closer to home.”
“Too much goin’ on to relax properly.
“I can see that.”
“Nah ya can’t,” But Grimmjow wouldn’t argue the point any longer, seeing the older gentlemen getting tired. “I’ll give ya a call when things settled down a lil. Get some sleep.”
“I plan too,” After a couple of more shifts and loosening the noose around his throat, Ryuken blew low and weary as he said one final statement. “Be careful out there young soldier. I’m not tryin’ ta’ lose another blue blood.” The slang rung in his true native tongue as he slipped in a light sleep, a permanent scowl still evident on his face.
Grimmjow snickered quietly, palming over the ball of his father figure’s knee, giving it a slight shake. “Rest easy T. I got cha’.”
He meant that. As long as Ryuken had breath in him he’d looked out for both Grimmjow and Yoruichi as a favor for a fallen comrade in the line of duty. He knew Ryuken had long forgotten that promise made to that friend, since he’d taken that vow far pass just keeping an eye on the two. In the ten years along the way, he’d given them a home, a family and they never had to hurt for nothing.
Now Grimmjow was hoping he could return the favor as much as possible. That’s why he didn’t bother asking questions or wondering the motive behind who Ryuken wanted to keep safe or why. He just did what he was told.
Simple as that.


You have one saved voice message. You have no new voice messages.
First voice message.
Hey Sweetie, I just got off a little early tonight. I'm thinking of fixing dinner, so if you have any special requests let me know and I'll have it ready. . . Ichigo . . . I know it's strange to say all of a sudden, but I'm so very proud of you sweetheart. You've done so much to make yourself into a better man. I can't wait to see my baby dressed in his uniform on his graduation. You're going to look so handsome. Make sure you come home early tonight to get enough rest. Love you baby. ~ Masaki Kurosaki
To replay this message press one now. To save this message, press seven. To erase this message press nine.
. . . . Press one. Repeat.
Hey Sweetie, I just got off a little early tonight. I'm thinking of fixing dinner, so if you have any special requests let me know and I'll have it ready. . . Ichigo . . . I know it's strange to say all of a sudden, but I'm so very proud of you sweetheart. You've done so much to make yourself into a better man. I can't wait to see my baby dressed in his uniform on his graduation. You're going to look so handsome. Make sure you come home early tonight to get enough rest. Love you baby. ~ Masaki Kurosaki
To replay this message press one now. To save this message, press seven. To erase this message press nine.
. . . . Press seven.
Message will be saved for twenty one days. To listen old messages press—Click.
It’d been six whole days and he refused to let her voice slip away. The only evidence she’d been alive was stored inside this mobile device and Ichigo could never see himself parting from it. Pain radically stabbed deep in his soul with the strength of a forty ton dull machete, the wound very deep and extremely torturing. This was his punishment. Day in and day out, first thing in the morning it was the first sound he listened to and before he closed his eyelids she was the last thing he heard.
He wouldn’t allow himself to uncuff the psychological shackles of grief, not ever. To lose that bit of hold he had on her spirit would be below his standards of disrespect. She’d been an innocent bystander on her way to her car, while she was leaving him a voice message. Him. For him, she wanted to give her words of praise to her one and only baby boy, prepared to come home and shower him in more.
Masaki Kurosaki had been so warped in her dreams of seeing her first born make a difference in his life, the sound of gunfire had been a distant mayhem she wasn’t aware of until the bullet swam through the air and speared her in her chest cavity, ricocheting off her rib bone like a jagged map to her right lung. There’d been two more shots to follow, soon after.
One wild shell had nicked the ridge of her collar bone and the fatal aim to her heart stole her last breath.
Ichigo had been recovering from his own gun injury, in a cruel twist of fate, only three rooms down from his mother’s deathbed. Blood loss kept him unconscious from hearing or seeing the stomping rubber shoes dashing back and forth pass his gapped doorway. The commotion was chaos, the noise unbearably stifling.
And he’d missed the octave of defeat, when the heart monitor could no longer signal a pulse.
How ironic was that? He’d been right there. Right there when she’d died and no one knew. Ichigo blamed himself for her death. He couldn’t find any other logical reason as to why he shouldn’t be the cause. If she hadn’t been leaving a voicemail for him—dammit. He wished over and over that he would’ve answered that call. Maybe she would’ve been more aware of her surroundings maybe, she would’ve . . . just something. So many what ifs and prayers to rewind time.
But they were all unanswered.
“Fuck,” The clock on the nightstand glimmered a red 6:29 a.m. Ichigo turned his head on his pillow, grunting as he propelled himself in a seated position, the sheets pooling around his waist as in a sleep like daze, he looked around in his bedroom as if seeing it for the first time.
His movement had been too sudden. The pull and tear of the bullet hole bandaged in his side roared like a sting of a thousand pin needles. He cupped his right hand over the wound, hissing from the soreness. “Shit,” he silently cussed. He kept forgetting that damn thing was there.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Ichigo yawned and looked at the clock. 6:33 eh? Yeah it was about that time she woke up. “C’mon,” he kept the blankets over his lower extremities, shaking off his sorrowful mood in exchange for a lopsided grin for his baby girl.
“Daddy,” The crumbly wooden door creaked open and a tiny head of brilliant short apricot hair and a sunshine smile to boot. Dressed in a pair of pink and yellow star one piece, little three year old Orihime shyly stepped inside her father’s bedroom, eyes glued to the matted brown carpet as she shuffled her feet from side to side. “Mornin’ Daddy.”
“G’mornin’ lil girl. Where my hug at?”
Orihime kept her eyes flooded, bottom lip poked out as her feet slid on the ground until making it to the bed and hoping up on the edge, crawling into Ichigo’s outstretched arms. “What’s goin’ on wit’chu ta’day eh?”
“Nothennnn,” She drawled out playfully.
“Huhuh, then why ya got ya lip all poked out?” Ichigo tapped her bottom lip, grinning extra wide when she sucked it back in.
“Cuz,” Orihime looked to the floor, slipping between the blanket portion of her daddy’s lap, rocking back and forth against his chest. “C’n I haf some waff’es an’ bacon Daddy?”
So that’s why she acting up. He was proud of her. Her speech pattern was getting pretty advanced for her age. “What’s da’ magic word?”
“P’easssse, I be good,” She proceed to make those damn eyes that always made her grandfather melt into silly putty and sad as it was she got her father with it too.
“A’ight, a’ight, gimme a minute.”
“Yah!” Orihime rolled off the bed spread and waddled with the spunk of an energizer bunny, until her daddy’s booming voice made her shut off all engines.
“What I told ya ‘bout runnin’ inside?” Ichigo frowned, carefully pulling a shirt over his naked torso. “I ain’t hear ya?”
“Not too,” Orihime whimpered at the door way. “I s’rry.”
“Good girl, not walk to the kitchen an’ stay put ‘till I get there.”
“Ok,” She indeed walk instead of run this time around, knowing full well he’d hear her if she did take a chance to release all that drive.
Many have wondered how Ichigo came about having a child with him still being nothing but a youngster himself and gay to add insult to injury. Well to make a long story short, he’d been hard headed, not listening to his mama or daddy when the lessons of keeping his dick wrapped tight weren’t registering in his head.
Around fifteen he’d meant a fine ass honey named Rangiku with titties for miles and enough hips and ass to feed make Robin Hood and his Merry Men retire. She had that same shade of reddish brown hair he loved and a pair of glassy blues eyes that could turn a sissy into her superman. Ichigo had been wandering through the experimental stages of what he liked and disliked about both sexes and by the time he found out that he deemed men his most desired affairs, Rangiku had already made that call to his parents claiming she was knocked up with his seed.
Isshin had demanded a paternity test. His mother did the same. Hell Ichigo was the main one to ask for it as soon as he heard the news and lord he prayed day in and day out that that baby wasn’t his. As soon as those nine months were over, little Orihime was born and boy did she looked the spitting image of Masaki Kurosaki and Ichigo’s big expressive eyes.
In the end the test came back saying that Ichigo was 99.999999% the father of this sweet girl and to this day he was ashamed to say he hadn’t wanted her the first time. No teenager really wanted to take that kind of responsibility but he stepped up to the plate and made sure he was always around when Orihime needed him.
He and Rangiku had come to a somewhat decent understanding that they would have joint custody but he’d be damned to fucking hell if he married that unstable creature. She nagged like no one’s fucking business and he didn’t have the time for that.
They exchanged having the girl with them every week, but most of the time Orihime was spending time with her father when Rangiku was laid out in the streets hanging with her friends and doing whatever bullshit.
There was once when Ichigo swore if he caught some random ass man in her house while his daughter was around, he was going to kick her ass, the man’s ass and any other witnesses in the vicinity.
Orihime is his pride and joy for a multitude of reasons.
The first being that when she looked up to him with eyes so wide and innocent, she gave him the purpose he needed to continue on.
The second and most important of all was that smile. That warm, delightful smile that shun the same ray of light as his mother; that made the little child twice as precious and more woven in his heart.
She was also part of the reason why he became an officer, as a way of having more intimidating to back up his already bold exterior. Her protection was absolutely guaranteed because of this job.
Speaking of which, he had to be there in about two hours and a daughter to drop off at school and to meet up with his buddies to take care of some business.
There were some street rollers he had to keep from causing trouble. He couldn’t wait to get to work.
TBC: Sooooo what ya’ll think? Still good so far?
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