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Thriller	By : Raceysama Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Grimmjow/Ichigo Views: 2972 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor do I make any profit from these works......

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
CHAPTER 7
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...
Definite, definite, DEFINITE OOC!
Oh, yeah, lots of song lyrics this chapter, so if that doesn't float your boat, feel free to sail right on past it. (shrugs) Just a heads-up...
Onwards...
XOXOXO
Was he dead?
Perhaps dreaming?
Maybe that would account for the massive gathering of a certain group of individuals he never expected to witness all at one time...together in the same room.
There were a couple unfamiliar faces, but the whole scene left a dissatisfying taste in his mouth.
Thin, orange brows pulled into a scowl as Ichigo silently observed.
Would you like to know what had his pants wrinkled?
Of course you would.
Picture, if you will, waking up in an alien environment (no, not extra-terrestrial) with a colossal amount of adrenaline surging through your veins. You're spread on a lumpy, white, leather couch, practically sticking to it due to the humidity of the medium-sized room you're in. The walls are beige, the floor is covered in an icky, olive-green carpet and your make-shift bed is pushed against a far wall, leaving the space before you open as a dance floor. There is a wide shouji door maybe ten feet to your right, but it's closed. Several framed pictures decorate those beige walls, as well as a mounted, flat-screen television and pushed up against the wall directly opposite you is a small, wooden coffee table. It's covered in beer cans and various bottles of hard liquor.
Now to fill in the more interesting bits.
There is music. And not only is it loud, but it's at an ear-splitting - very nearly offending – volume. It's American club music and the bass is shaking the entire room, ceiling included, not to mention your fucking teeth. There are large bean bag chairs scattered around the perimeter of the room, none of which are occupied and the room is filled with the haze of cigarette smoke.
Can you see this in your head?
Good.
Ichigo was lying on his back, mouth slack with disbelief as he realized just what was going on around him.
Karaoke.
Very bad karaoke.
Someone had obviously plugged a PS3 into the TV and there were words sliding up the screen as a wispy blond, wearing dark-blue, skinny jeans and a white, v-neck tee, hair in a chin-length bob, with a straight, Chinese-cut bang, wiggled his hips seductively and belted the lyrics to a popular American song.
Got that glitter on my eyes
Stockings ripped all up the side
Looking sick and sexy-fied
So let's go-oh-oh, let's go!
No matter how odd the scene was, Ichigo still found himself stifling what was sure to be riotous, snorting laughter. The blond, although loud and on par with the beat, couldn't carry a tune in a basket. He was all into it too, his eyes squeezed shut as he gripped a black microphone.
Tonight we're going har-har-har-har-har-hard
Just like the world is our-our-our-our-our-ours
We're tearin' it apar-par-par-par-par-part
You know we're superstars
We are who we are
We're dancing like we're dumb-dumb-du-du-du-dumb
Our bodies go numb-numb-nu-nu-nu-numb
We'll be forever young-young-y-y-y-young
You know we're superstars
We are who we are
A wide grin slowly bloomed across Ichigo's face as he shook his head slightly. He didn't really get a chance to enjoy the show because all too soon the song was ending and the next person on the roster stepped to the middle of the room, grabbing the microphone the blond still clutched.
"Oi, shit-face!" the blond snapped when he was shoved roughly out of the way.
Ichigo felt the precise moment his blood chilled and formed little ice chips. The person standing in front of the TV, waiting for the next song and set of lyrics to begin was extremely familiar, with his ash-white hair and frightfully pale skin. The eyes were what sealed the deal for Ichigo, though. Golden irises and black sclera.
Fuck.
He would remember that face for as long as he lived, but the question was...what the fuck was he doing there? For that matter, what were the rest of the people gathered doing there...together?
Shit, where the hell was THERE in the first place and why was he even present? Where were Dr. Grantz and that Mayuri freak?
Not that he was complaining that they weren't around.
Ichigo allowed his eyes to leave the albino in the middle of the room and scanned the remainder of it. The people he saw gave him the creepy-crawlies, but the ones he recognized made him want to continue to remain anonymous. Of course, there was the albino Ichigo remembered from Hueco Mundo – more specifically Las Noches - but the man had been behind a thick pane of glass at the time. Licking it, if he also remembered correctly.
Then, there was another patient that he'd seen that had seemed pretty harmless behind the thick glass of his cell. It was the petite, raven-haired male with the big, jade-green eyes. He was seated on the floor beside an entirely too large man with dangerous looking, black spikes for hair. Ichigo didn't recognize him, but it didn't diminish the man's frightening appearance. A small, navy-blue eye patch covering his right eye and a long, thin scar running through his left, made him seem like a pure villain.
They were both reclining against the wall, legs outstretched before them, although the shorter man's legs didn't reach nearly as far as The Villain's did. The Villain was loosely clutching a glass bottle filled with a clear liquid between his tree trunk legs, a rakish grin tilting the corners of his mouth. He wore baggy, black jeans, a gray sweater that was half-way off and hanging around his thick neck, a white t-shirt underneath and his feet were bare.
The green-eyed man was holding a royal blue, plastic cup (you know the universal ones with the white rim?) in his left hand, his right curled limply in his lap. There was a gray hoodie beside him that Ichigo assumed had been discarded due to the heat of the room. Green Eyes wore matching gray sweats, one pants leg having rolled to the middle of his calf, while the other remained near his ankle. The leg with the exposed calf was bent at the knee and Green Eyes maintained a deadpan stare in the albino's direction.
"YOSH! Eat shit, fucker! I got the Big Joker!" a loud tenor shouted before a loud smack emanated from the corner closest to Green Eyes and The Villain. Ichigo sent his gaze over to the noise and his mouth opened in shock.
What?
Surprise and apprehension rippled through his system, making his skin tingle and his insides shudder. He didn't know quite where to start, but there were many things wrong with the scene his wide, brown eyes were taking in. First, the voice belonged to a man Ichigo remembered had referred to himself as a pirate. Captain Jiruga to be exact. Now, why the guy was here, he had no fucking clue. Captain Jiruga was wearing a ripped, white, v-neck tee, black jeans and white socks. Ichigo couldn't forget the man's white bandana covering his left eye. Captain Jiruga was on his feet, leaning over the table, hand pressed firmly to its middle, while his metal foldout chair rested on its side on the floor, a white hoodie trapped beneath it. Tattoos littered his skinny arms and a lit cigarette hung dangerously from the right corner of his wide mouth, smoke curling towards the ceiling and filling the room. A royal blue, plastic cup rested on the table in front of him, wobbling precariously from his over-exuberant slap to the tabletop.
That wasn't the worst of it, though. To the right and adjacent from Captain Jiruga sat Ichigo's old co-worker with the wavy, dark-brown hair and arctic gray eyes. He couldn't recall the taller man's name, but he knew he had been an orderly at Hueco Mundo. He also remembered the man and Captain Jiruga not being on such friendly terms, but there they sat at a small, black, aluminum card table, playing a game of cards. He too wore a white, v-neck tee – minus the rip – black, skinny jeans and white socks. A black, leather jacket was draped over the back of his seat and Ichigo spied the handle of a gun peeking from its depths. A can of beer was in front of him and he kept it safe from Captain Jiruga's enthusiasm by placing a large hand over the top and holding it in place.
Shivering, Ichigo allowed his eyes to move on. Across from the former orderly was another former orderly. More specifically, the other brunet that had introduced himself to Ichigo on his first day at Hueco Mundo. He couldn't remember his name either, but the guy was still just as huge as the last time he'd seen him. The big guy's wavy, brown hair still covered that right eye of his and his outfit consisted of a black t-shirt, black sweats and he broke the trend with a pair of black socks. There was no drink in front of him, but there was a long, bright-yellow sour straw hanging from his lips.
The last person seated at the small, square table had Ichigo twitching with huge amounts of 'time to get the hell out'. He peeked surreptitiously at the head of bright blue hair, glazed, ocean-blue eyes and lightly flushed, angular face. Grimmjow was staring up at Captain Jiruga, his slender blue brows pulled into a deep frown and his lovely mouth pursed so tightly, it was white around the edges. A green hoodie hung haphazardly from the back of his chair, while he wore a dark-green t-shirt with dark-blue jeans and...bright red socks. Ichigo scrunched his mouth up, hiding a smile.
He wasn't sure what it was about the lethal telekinetic/telepathic man, but whatever it was, it made him second-guess everything he knew about himself. Such as his scarily strong attraction to said man. Grimmjow had the ability to scatter his thoughts like pool balls, yet at the same time make his blood boil hotter than UV rays. Ichigo knew Grimmjow was deadlier than full-blown AIDS, but hell, he couldn't help but feel a morbid curiosity where the man was concerned. He wanted to know more about him, like why he killed people to begin with and how he had come by his strange gifts.
He also wanted to know what it felt like to be fucked by him, but that would certainly have to take a back seat to his other inquiries.
"Yer lucky I'm too drunk ta give a fuck," Grimmjow's deep, rustic voice focused Ichigo's attention like a camera lens, making him stare helplessly at the blue-haired man.
Grimmjow was rising from his seat unsteadily, hand grappling for the edge of the table to help him keep his balance. Ichigo couldn't believe he would actually let himself get drunk, but then again, like he said before, there was a lot wrong with this scenario anyway. Grimmjow eased away from the table amidst laughter and jeers from Captain Jiruga, the blond that had been doing karaoke and the albino preparing to perform. Grimmjow lifted his left hand slowly as he sank to the floor, his middle finger up.
He leaned his head against the wall and let loose a grossly loud belch, to which Green Eyes glared in his direction with his nose wrinkled. It was the most emotion Ichigo had seen on the man's face since first seeing him in Las Noches. Grimmjow shut his eyes, his head listing to the side a bit and Ichigo quietly wondered if the man had fallen asleep.
He was kinda cute, drunk like that.
Whoa.
He never thought he would consider anything about Grimmjow even remotely cute. Smoldering charcoal brick hot? Yes. Cute? Not in a million years...and then some.
Contradictions such as this confused him even more. He didn't know what to make of the effect the tall, sexy ass, blue-haired lunatic had on him and it gave him premature gray hair. Ichigo shook his head and turned his gaze to the other side of the room, where three more beings sat camping on the floor. He recognized all three of them with varying degrees of trepidation.
First, there was the big-breasted, orange-haired girl that he worked with at the convenience store. Well, she came in after him, but he was still acquainted with her. Her long hair hung down her back and her gray eyes were wide with sheer, childish admiration as she watched the albino pressing buttons on a PS3 controller. She wore a white, short-sleeved polo, light-blue, legging jeans and her feet were bare, her toenails a bright pink. Her hands were clasped together over her ample bosom, her mouth was creased into a wide, open-mouthed grin and her legs were crossed Indian-styled. Orihime Inoue.
Second, there was the short, white-haired patient he had once been wary of at Hueco Mundo. He had also thought the guy was a kid. Ichigo didn't remember the name that the big brunet orderly had given him, but he did recall something about the guy wanting to be called taichou. The man's glowing, aqua eyes weren't filled with hate anymore, but they did seem rather bored, like he was trying his hardest not to fall asleep. He was wearing a gray, long-sleeved thermal shirt, gray, skinny jeans and a pair of thick, black socks. His snow-white hair was tousled, with a stubborn lock folding over his brow as he also sat Indian-styled, his arms crossed over his chest.
The third person had his blood running to ice again and his hackles rising. He didn't know why this woman was here, but he knew for a fact that she had been part of his abduction. But since this was a dream, Ichigo was willing to let it slide.
His former co-worker/abductor was seated on the floor beside Inoue, her back resting against the wall and her long, shapely legs stretched out before her, crossed carefully at the ankles. Her blonde hair stood out sharply compared to the beige wall she was leaning on and her bright, green eyes were focused on the albino. Halibel wore a white jumpsuit that appeared to be painted onto her voluptuous form, the zipper in front pulled down to her navel, displaying illegal amounts of cleavage. If Ichigo wasn't gay, he was positive he would be drooling at the blonde bombshell.
Her presence still made him nervous and suspicious all at the same time.
Suddenly, bass started thumping again and the albino in the middle of the floor began singing. Even though Ichigo was more than wary of this entire crowd, he couldn't find it in himself not to laugh at what he was currently witnessing.
Quietly of course.
The albino had wrapped a black necktie around his head like a bandana and was shimmying across the floor, his slim hips moving too fast for the eye to follow. His hands were planted on those slim hips before one lifted the microphone to his face. Surprisingly, the albino was doing a much better job than the blond as far as singing went. An excited, but strange, watery tenor floated into the microphone, exactly on time with the scrolling lyrics.
I have a heart
I swear I do
But just not baby
When it comes to you
I get so hungry when you say you love me
Hush if you know what's good for you
Ichigo tucked his lips between his teeth in an attempt to quell the raucous laughter bubbling right below the surface. The albino sank fluidly to his knees, thrusting his chest forward and back, his left hand clasping the back of his head and his elbow bent at a forty-five degree angle as he continued singing, his mouth curved into an enormous grin.
I eat boys up
Breakfast and lunch
Then when I'm thirsty
I drink their blood
The albino leaped to his feet, just as gracefully as he'd lowered himself and ripped his black shirt off, flinging it over to Captain Jiruga, who – Ichigo only just noticed – was leering at him with his wide, piano-key toothed smirk. The tall, skinny man was leaned back in his seat, wiry arms crossed over his chest and cigarette hanging from the corner of his grinning lips. The shirtless albino winked at him and bellowed the chorus like it was a Tarzan yell.
I...am...Cannibal (Cannibal) (Cannibal) I am
I...am...Cannibal (Cannibal)
I'll eat you up (I am)
I...am...Cannibal (Cannibal) (Cannibal) I am
I...am...Cannibal (Cannibal)
I'll eat you up
This continued until the end of the song, where Captain Jiruga, the blond guy, and Inoue leaped to their feet. A deafening cheer accompanied with applause went up around the room, Captain Jiruga even going as far as wolf whistling as Inoue squealed elatedly. Even Halibel and Green Eyes were smiling, which had to be a feat in and of itself.
"Shirosaki-kun, that was so good!" Inoue exclaimed, clapping her hands together.
Shirosaki, huh?
Well, that was one name down.
"Ah, thanks, Tits!" Shirosaki replied cheerfully and Inoue flushed a deep crimson as she tried to cover her breasts with her arms.
"Shirosaki-kun! Please don't call me that!" she whimpered as she lowered herself back to the floor, her huge, innocent, gray eyes downcast.
Captain Jiruga cackled from across the room, Shirosaki gliding towards him after snatching a can of beer from the coffee table and taking a healthy gulp. Ichigo hadn't even noticed until that moment that The Villain had taken Grimmjow's vacant spot at the card table, his gigantic form dwarfing the poor aluminum folding chair. He held a hand of cards, but was watching Shirosaki stalk to the table.
Ichigo had to disguise a snicker when Shirosaki cast a disappointed glare in Grimmjow's direction, "SIX! It's yer turn ta do karaoke!" he snapped.
Grimmjow cracked a blue eye and made an evil face at Shirosaki, "Fuck off," he mumbled, his eye lazily sliding shut.
Shirosaki veered from his path to the card table and headed over to Grimmjow instead, kicking his foot out to catch the dozing man in the leg. Grimmjow's hand came up faster than a cobra strike and paused Shirosaki's foot mid-kick.
Both blue eyes slowly blinked open and shot daggers at the albino hovering nearby, "Didn' I say fuck off, Shiro?" Grimmjow's voice was low and threatening.
Shirosaki's eyes had widened in surprise for about three seconds when Grimmjow stopped his foot, but now he was back to making scary eyes at the blue-haired man. "C'mon, Six, yer the Karaoke King! It ain't the same wit'out ya!" he ended up whining like a brat.
Ichigo's eyes followed the verbal exchange like it was a tennis match. Grimmjow was scowling, his teeth bared and a vein twitching along his temple. "Grimmjow, don't be a spoil sport!" the blond guy called from his spot near the TV. That only made the other man growl like an alley cat.
"Ya should listen ta Shin-chan, ya know," Shirosaki added, rocking back on his heels as he stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. His face was innocent, but his strange eyes were chock full of amusement.
"Fuck," Grimmjow snarled, "can' I be drunk in fuckin' peace?"
"Noooooope!" Shirosaki and Shin-chan sang in response, making poor Grimmjow curl his hands into fists that looked more than capable of plowing holes into anything they touched.
"Wah! Grimmjow-kun, you should do it!" Inoue chirped from her place beside the taichou guy, her round eyes wide and beseeching.
"Nah, he ain't gonna do it, Tits. He's scared," Shirosaki taunted and Grimmjow gave him a look that should have turned the albino to stone.
"Shirosaki-kun!" Inoue groaned.
"What? He is!"
"That's not what I meant!" she scolded.
Ichigo grinned and studied the scene playing out before him. Challenging Grimmjow's pride was a sure-fire way to get him to comply. He knew that much and he'd only encountered the blue-haired man a couple of times.
Right on cue, Grimmjow climbed to his feet and faced Shirosaki, his upper lip curled back in disgust, "Fuck you!" he spat and shuffled towards the TV and the microphone Shirosaki had tossed to the floor.
"It's ok, Six! I still love ya, even if ya are bipolar!" Shirosaki teased with a smirk worthy of the Grinch.
The hairs on the back of Ichigo's neck stood on end as he watched Grimmjow nonchalantly flip the albino the bird with one hand and reach for the game's case with the other.
Was he really going to perform?
Grimmjow perused the back of the case and narrowed his eyes. A quirk of his lips was the only sign he found what he was looking for. He tossed the case aside and picked up the controller, briefly scrolling through the options menu before he selected a song. He chucked the controller and ambled over to the alcohol laden coffee table, lifting a bottle of something clear to his lips and swigging deeply from it. Grimmjow grinned, replaced the bottle and turned back to the TV, stooping to retrieve the microphone just as an upbeat guitar riff strummed through the surround sound speakers. He ran a hand through those tumbled, blue locks and took a deep breath.
Ichigo was ashamed to say he was as excited as if this were a real live concert. His heart was jumping around anxiously and his mouth had turned to a strip of sandpaper. His eyes were pathetically riveted to the insane man like he was his favorite band member.
Right right, turn off the lights
we gonna lose our minds tonight
What's the dealio?
Shin-chan immediately recognized the song and jumped to his feet, already singing along. Inoue too was on her feet, clapping and singing. The song was extremely popular and catchy and even Ichigo knew the fucking lyrics. It was an American club song made for dancing and...well, clubbing. Nel claimed it was her theme song and he had the pleasure of hearing it nearly on a daily basis. It was the green-haired woman's call tone, so whenever he called her, instead of ringing, he would hear the song. It had gotten to the point where he'd caught himself absently singing the lyrics one day.
Heads were nodding all around the room, some even tapping their feet. Green Eyes was a head nodder, although his was miniscule and barely noticeable. Captain Jiruga was an enthusiastic head nodder, cigarette still dangling from his lips and creepy grin still firmly in place. Shirosaki too nodded his head to the beat as he set his can of beer onto the card table, giving himself freedom to move about without spilling the liquid all over the place.
Ichigo knew shit was serious when he noticed Halibel nodding too.
Holy hell.
Grimmjow was nodding his head as he paced back and forth in front of the TV, his back turned to it, meaning he too knew it by heart. The situation was ridiculous, but Ichigo would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying himself.
Party crasher, panty snatcha'
Call me up if you a gangsta'
Don't be fancy
Just get dancey
Why so serious?
The small crowd was worked into a lather now, so Grimmjow held the microphone out towards them as the song continued, two rows of porcelain white teeth shining under the dim lighting, canines just as deadly as Ichigo remembered.
"So raise your glass if you are wrong!" everyone shouted, voices loud and joyous.
Grimmjow brought the microphone back to his mouth, his raspy baritone caressing the lyrics, "In all the right ways!"
The crowd chimed in perfectly as Grimmjow held the mic forward again, "All my underdogs!"
Grimmjow again, "We will never be, never be!"
The crowd, "Anything but loud!"
Grimmjow, "And nitty gritty dirty little freaks! Won't you come on and come on and!"
Crowd, "RAISE YOUR GLASS!"
Grimmjow, "Just come on and come on and!"
They all roared, "RAISE YOUR GLASS!"
Grimmjow had the small group of people in an absolute frenzy as he went through the rest of the song, his large, muscular frame moving like a snake through grass as he snatched his t-shirt off and whirled it over his head like a helicopter, hopping up and down as he did so. Everyone was singing along by now and Ichigo meant everyone. From the hyped up Shirosaki to the sinfully lazy, brunet former orderly, who had been satisfied with not participating before Grimmjow's performance.
Ichigo was enjoying the performance, but he was enjoying all of the blue-haired man's flexing and exposed, tanned skin even more. Grimmjow was sweating, his voice loud and sexy over the speakers. Ichigo gritted his teeth and forced himself to think about something else before he embarrassed himself by sprouting a boner during the musical mayhem.
It wasn't working.
At least he was once again wearing his work uniform and covered with a thin, yellow, cotton blanket, rather than the naked state he had been in, strapped to Dr. Grantz's gurney.
Speaking of which...
Now that he was awake, he didn't feel any different. His body wasn't even remotely sore, his head was clear, he didn't seem to be brainwashed and he still appeared quite normal. He moved a fraction and confirmed his suspicions. He really wasn't hurting.
Had the incident with Dr. Grantz been a dream?
Oh no, that's right. THIS was the dream.
He was probably still tied down to that gurney in Dr. Grantz's weird laboratory.
With that Mayuri guy.
Ichigo shuddered violently and suppressed the urge to gag. His luck was so rotten, he wished this dream really was reality.
Grimmjow finished his song and the noise made Ichigo's eyes squint and tear up at the same time. It was fucking bedlam. Grimmjow obviously had potential to be a performer.
Just as the music faded out, the shouji door to his right slid open, admitting two figures. Ichigo tried to hurriedly shut his eyes as they stepped into the room, but one of the figures swatted him lightly in the face with a paper fan.
"Now, now, none of that, Kurosaki-san," a charming tenor chided.
There was dead silence as he guiltily opened his eyes, insides lurching at being caught and now confronted. The second his eyes cracked open, they locked with astonished blue pools. Ichigo gulped, arrested by that piercing gaze.
Fuck.
Finally, he tore his eyes away and glanced up at the man that had hit him with the fan. The man was probably around his height, had blond, shaggy hair that haloed his face, a lock of it dipping between his dark, mysterious eyes. He was wearing an off-white, linen tunic and olive-green, linen lounge pants. His feet were bare and his smile was just as mysterious as his eyes.
"Can you sit up, Kurosaki-san?" he asked gently as he came to stand right in front of him.
Ichigo frowned but nodded, slowly easing into a sitting position, his body ripping from the leather couch like duct tape. He was expecting some type of twinge of pain, a stinging, possibly even an aching, yet there was nothing. His frown deepened as he swung his legs over the side of the couch. Suddenly, his stomach let out an embarrassingly loud and angry rumble. He clutched it, his face burning with shame. The man in front of him only laughed, the sound contagious and warm.
"Hai, hai," he said through his chuckles, "it's only expected that you would be hungry. You've been asleep for three days now."
Ichigo scowled and sharpened his gaze, trying to ignore the curious looks coming from the people surrounding him. He had to beat back the intense desire to meet the scalding stare he knew was coming from none other than Grimmjow. Now wasn't the time for googly eyes.
"Where am I?" he croaked and the sound made his throat burn and protest. He needed to continue though. "And why are these people here? And who're you?"
"Ah, heh, I'm Kisuke Urahara and this is my...assistant, if you will...Uryuu Ishida," the man answered pointing in the direction of the person that entered the room behind him.
Ichigo peered at the indicated man and after a few seconds of careful studying, decided the man looked nothing like an assistant. He was thin, nearly reedy, but his body was lean and appeared toned. He had jet-black hair that framed both sides of his slender, almost elegant face, solemn, dark blue eyes and a small, prim mouth. He wore a long-sleeved, white thermal shirt, white skinny jeans that were ripped at the knees and all-white, high-top Converse sneakers. He seemed like a normal guy...except for the ominous-looking, high-tech, silver crossbow strapped to his back.
Ichigo didn't see the point in having it if the guy didn't even have any arrows, but whatever.
He nodded at the Ishida person, who nodded stiffly back, then Ichigo turned back to Urahara, "That leaves where I am and why those people are here," he rasped, rubbing a hand over his throat.
Strange how his fucking throat felt worse than his entire body.
"Ah, of course, but first, wouldn't you like-"
Ichigo shook his head and held up a hand, "Answer me," he ordered, lowering his tone. Even if this was a fucking dream, he wanted some answers.
Urahara's eyes flashed and he instantly sobered, "Well, Kurosaki-san, I'm sure you remember your ordeal with Dr. Grantz."
So, there went the dream scenario.
The name sent a palpable ripple of tension shuddering through the room and for a short moment, Ichigo felt bad for ruining the festive mood. Then his better judgment kicked in and his resolve hardened as he nodded shortly.
Urahara went on, "For years, Dr. Grantz and his partner have been performing illegal experiments on innocent people. The results varied, but the ones being used as guinea pigs were held in containment. You know the place as Hueco Mundo, or more specifically, Las Noches." Ichigo nodded again, indicating the older man should keep going. "Dr. Grantz and Mayuri work for a higher being, a man much more powerful than themselves, enabling them to get away with their actions. I used to be this man's partner, but once I realized he was over-extending his hand, I parted ways. I've been trying to conduct a bit of damage control by...enhancing a few trusted people and training them. I've gathered a sizable group and our code name is Doragon no Chikara."
"Force of the dragon?" Ichigo repeated and Urahara nodded.
"I planted a few of them in Hueco Mundo in order to follow Dr. Grantz's activities from the inside and was fairly successful, until er...well, that is, until you came along."
Ichigo flushed angrily. Urahara wasn't going to pin all his troubles on him.
Before he could speak, Urahara rushed on, "That's not to say it was your fault, but your presence, in a sense, did manage to disrupt the flow of things. There was a mass escape," here Ichigo sent a disdainful glare at Grimmjow, to which the man only grinned brazenly, "and then, Dr. Grantz was ordered to use you as their next experiment. The man over Dr. Grantz and Mayuri is named Sosuke Aizen and he has devised a way to track those with special abilities."
"Wait, wait!" Ichigo interrupted, throwing his hand into the air like a grade schooler. "So, there are more people with these 'special abilities'?" he asked, using air quotes for the special abilities phrase. "I thought Dr. Grantz created them?"
He was so confused.
Urahara shook his head slightly, "No, he imitated a person with a real ability until he was able to perfect the procedure that allowed another person to gain an ability of their own."
"Well, who was the original...?" his voice trailed off, unsure of how to word the question. Luckily, Urahara understood, but before he could speak, a familiar baritone interrupted.
"Me," Grimmjow stated, his brow etched into a deep scowl.
Ichigo just knew his eyebrows were somewhere on the ceiling as he faced the blue-haired man. That was some nuclear warhead he had just dropped on the room. From the looks on everyone's faces, no one had known about that, but him. Well, and the Urahara guy, who didn't appear surprised in the least.
Ichigo shifted under Grimmjow's steady gaze, not knowing how to proceed.
What did he say to that?
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