Chapter Text
Seventeen months passed more slowly than the previous fifteen years.
Alone.
Powerless.
Numb.
It wasn’t even as if everyone had abandoned him. At least, not permanently. Only for seventeen months after his powers faded away entirely.
After she faded away entirely.
Seventeen months of no one but his sisters and his father to talk to. Of feeling like one of the ghosts he could no longer see - invisible to everyone.
Even Kon had abandoned him.
And when Ichigo found out why, well, that was an argument for the ages. Isshin swore he was doing what he thought was best for him. He wanted to give Ichigo a ‘clean break’ from it all.
“Anything and anyone that reminds you of what you lost is better off out of your life,” he was told.
“Why put yourself through the pain of it all?” he was asked.
“So I can feel something,” he’d screamed back at his father.
Anything…
So he could know that those few months as a shinigami hadn’t just been one long, wild, horrible, wonderful dream.
His friends in Karakura were the only thing he had left that made it real.
Ichigo had packed a bag while Isshin was still trying to defend himself and he had only barely stopped to tell his sisters that he would see them soon before he was out the door.
He didn’t slam it.
The moment Grimmjow finally heard Aizen was dead, he’d come straight back to Karakura town, but the shinigami he’d sworn to beat was nowhere to be found.
Nowhere.
The kid leaked reiatsu like a sieve and yet there wasn’t a trace of him anywhere.
Was he - ?
No.
There was no way that the shinigami - his enemy, his prey - was actually gone.
Kurosaki Ichigo couldn’t be…
He just couldn’t.
They had a score to settle, damn it.
“Kur - o - sa - ki!” he screamed into the silence.
It wasn’t a dark, stormy night when he packed up and left. Ichigo didn’t stumble and fall down in the cold rain. No, nothing so poetic.
It was a sunny afternoon when Ichigo walked out the door and across town without incident, his hastily packed bag slung over one shoulder. His feet carried him to where his heart knew he wanted to be.
For the first time in his memory, Urahara Kisuke didn’t meet him at the door to the Shoten.
The man couldn’t sense him coming.
Instead Ichigo made his way through the silent shop and into the house proper. Kisuke, Tessai, Ururu, and Jinta were gathered around the table like they had been countless times before, talking and teasing and just looking so perfectly normal that Ichigo had to stop and grip the door frame to steady himself as his heart squeezed painfully in his chest. He must have made a sound, or something, because Kisuke looked up at him sharply.
Their eyes met and Kisuke’s gray ones widened - too surprised to even pull out his fan to shield his face. For a long moment no one spoke. Ichigo could feel Tessai’s eyes on him as well, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Kisuke’s face. Unnoticed by anyone, a black cat slipped out of the kitchen.
“Ow!” Ururu’s pained shriek cut through the silence. “Jinta, let go!” Whatever force that had seemingly made time stand still snapped and both men turned as Ururu smacked her brother’s hands away from one of her pigtails.
“Kurosaki-san,” Kisuke said quietly.
Ichigo looked back to him and a million things passed unspoken between them. All the emotions he knew the other man couldn’t put into words - anger, guilt, sorrow, regret, love - flickered across Kisuke’s unguarded face. He opened his mouth and Ichigo wondered what he was going to say. What was there to say?
“Kurosaki-san,” Kisuke repeated. “Would you like some tea?”
Ichigo let out a long sigh of relief, all of the building tension draining out of him in a moment with the simple, perfectly ordinary question. “Yes.”
Renji was chest-deep in paperwork when an all-too-familiar black cat jumped onto his desk, scattering reports in a dozen different directions. He jerked, spilling ink across another several pieces of paper, and swore under his breath. Sitting back in his chair, Renji glared at the cat.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
The cat flicked a bit of stray ink off their paw with a glare of their own, saying in a startlingly deep voice, “He’s at the Shoten.”
“What?!” Renji nearly upended his desk entirely. “But I thought -”
“He came on his own,” the cat told him. “You can ask him yourself.”
Renji was already halfway out of his chair before he remembered he couldn’t just pop into Karakura like he used to. He wasn’t even sure if he could get to Karakura, and he was damn sure that he shouldn’t go see Ichigo.
After the Soutaicho’s order, just considering it was likely treason. Not that it had ever stopped him before.
Renji’s hands clenched on the edge of the desk to hide how they trembled slightly. He honestly didn’t put much stock in what the Soutaicho had to say. Or Central 46 in general, after Rukia’s near execution. But his taicho was a different matter entirely. Last time, when push came to shove, Kuchiki-taicho had backed up him and Rukia. Last time, someone’s life was at stake.
Was this time truly any different?
If he was forced to choose - to draw a line in the sand - Renji was scared that he didn’t know who he would choose. His captain or his friend?
Or maybe he was terrified that he did know who he would choose. He knew -
“Abarai-fukutaicho,” Byakuya’s quiet tone still carried easily through the silent office.
Renji’s head snapped up to look at him, suddenly feeling guilty.
“The Kuchiki senkaimon is usually unguarded as it is well within the safety of the compound, but clearly we have a security breach if she,” he narrowed sharp steel eyes at the cat, “Is able to get in.”
Byakuya turned his gaze to Renji, meeting confused dark brown eyes. “You will be responsible for its security until I am able to arrange for a more permanent guard. Do I make myself clear?”
Renji’s heart stopped for a moment when he processed what the other man was telling him. He gave a tiny nod, breathing out, “Hai, taicho.”
Ichigo was helping Tessai clean up from lunch when he heard the hatch to the basement open. He didn’t turn around. Kisuke had gone down there as soon as they were finished eating. He had invited Ichigo to come help with whatever he was working on, but there was nothing there for him now. Nothing.
“Ichigo?”
The plate he was drying clattered onto the counter and Tessai reached over to snatch it before it could teeter off the edge. Ichigo spun around so quickly he nearly fell. For one glorious, heartbreaking instant before his mind caught up, Ichigo thought he could see him. But of course Kisuke would have kept the gigai.
“Renji,” Ichigo breathed.
His mind was already running through the same jumble of emotions he’d had with Kisuke. For months he’d wondered why everyone had left him. He’d thought about the questions he wanted to ask them. He’d had angry words planned. He didn’t understand how they could just stay away.
Eyes blurring slightly, Ichigo looked across the room at his friend and tried to form his storm of thoughts into so many words. He settled on four:
“Fuck, I missed you.”
Ichigo nearly ran to close the distance between them.
No, he did run. Ichigo couldn’t find it in himself to hold back, launching himself at the taller man. They’d never done such a thing before, but Renji caught him easily, pulling him into a tight, fierce hug. Ichigo leaned into Renji’s chest and tried to steady his breathing.
“I missed you too, Ichi,” Renji murmured against his hair.
Ichigo gave up all pretenses of calming as something inside of him snapped. Every emotion he hadn’t been able to feel over the last seventeen months came pouring out of him all at once and Ichigo collapsed against Renji and broke down. He sobbed.
Like he hadn’t since he was nine.
He cried so much that he was soaking Renji’s shirt but the other man didn’t seem to care. Renji had his arms wrapped tightly around his back and Ichigo could feel his cheek resting against the top of his head. Ichigo had no idea how long they stood there for until his tears ran dry and he was reduced to soft, stuttered breaths instead.
Renji wasn’t sure if Ichigo was actually calming or if he had just cried himself out, but it seemed as good a time as any to say quietly, “Come on, Ichi, you should lie down for a while.” The smaller man’s arms tightened almost painfully around his waist and Renji shushed him, reassuring, “You don’t have to let go of me. I’ll carry you. Arms around my neck and you can wrap your legs around my waist.”
Renji lifted him from under his thighs easily and Ichigo moved to follow his direction automatically, throwing both arms around the back of the other man’s neck and wrapping his legs around him too. He nuzzled into his friend’s neck, inhaling the scent that was uniquely Renji, whether he was in his gigai or in soul form, and found that it comforted him more than anything else had.
He was hardly aware of being carried down the hall back to the shinigami’s room, Renji nudging the door open and shut with his foot. Renji sat down on the futon and started to lean back against the pillow, but Ichigo was in no way ready to let him go. He didn’t think he was ever going to be ready to let him go. Not again...
“Ichi,” Renji said softly but firmly, “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I need you to let go of me so we’re both more comfortable, but you can stay right here and I won’t let go.”
Ichigo slowly released his grip on him, letting his hands drop beside Renji’s head instead of keeping them locked around his neck. The smaller man shifted so that his legs were bracketing Renji’s hips but kept his face buried against his neck. Renji was still gripping him firmly with one arm, moving his other hand to run through sunset orange hair and scratching gently against his scalp. It was a matter of moments before Ichigo was all but boneless against the other man’s chest, his stuttered breathing giving way to occasional soft hums. Despite everything else, Renji couldn’t help but smile at him, continuing the gentle attention to Ichigo’s hair.
Ichigo trusted Renji not to leave him, to stay right here as long as he needed him. And oh how he needed him.
Ichigo couldn’t remember the last time someone had held him like this - if ever. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this comfortable, felt this safe, this warm.
He couldn’t remember the last time he felt.
A flurry of emotions coursing through him now that they could, Ichigo was caught up in just feeling. Renji’s fingers in his hair, his arm wrapped around him. The comforting heat of his body, warm even through their clothes. The soft skin beneath his cheek. The reassuring feeling of just being this close to someone again.
He nuzzled closer into Renji’s neck and pressed a light kiss under his jaw. Then another. And another. He moved to kissing up his neck, along the lines of Zabimaru’s markings, trailing his lips over Renji’s cheek, not thinking, just feeling.
“Ichi, wait.”
Renji’s quiet voice cut through his empty mind. He stopped, lips at the corner of Renji’s mouth.
“Good,” Renji praised softly, “I need you to listen to me for a minute, okay?” Under entirely different circumstances, he’d be more than happy to have his gorgeous friend kissing him, but certainly not like this.
“Yes, Ren,” Ichigo murmured into his cheek.
Renji continued carding his fingers through Ichigo’s hair while he spoke, knowing just how vulnerable his touch-starved friend was right now and not wanting to give him any reason to think he was upset with him. “I don’t mind you kissing my skin, but I’m not comfortable with you kissing my lips right now. Anywhere else that’s currently uncovered or my chest through the shirt is perfectly fine. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Ren,” Ichigo whispered, cheeks flushed and eyes downcast for a moment.
Renji turned his head a bit to kiss Ichigo’s cheek, smiling at the pleased hum it earned him. Ichigo settled back against his neck after that, occasionally pressing soft kisses there but seemingly content. Renji was more than willing to stay like this for the rest of the afternoon and into the night if that’s what Ichigo needed, so he just repositioned a bit against the pillows and settled in. He wasn’t letting go of him. Not again…
Grimmjow had staked out the dodgy shop owned by the equally dodgy shinigami for days now.
Former shinigami? It didn’t really matter. The man was strong. But he wasn’t his prey. No, only one person in Karakura Town had his interest.
And he couldn’t fucking find him.
So he was reduced to sitting on a roof across from the shop and he knew, he just knew that the shopkeeper was aware of his presence. And yet he did nothing about it.
Did he not see him as a threat?
That wouldn’t do. He would usually snap his neck in a heartbeat, but Grimmjow had a goal here. And that wasn’t it.
Where the hell was Kurosaki?
Ichigo didn’t leave the Shoten for a week. He didn’t care about class. He didn’t care about anything, really. He didn’t want to lose sight of Renji or Kisuke for fear they would disappear. Again.
Renji couldn’t stay the whole time, he knew that. He’d stayed all through the first night, held Ichigo against him while they both slept. Brushed off Ichigo’s apology for the previous afternoon, saying he understood. Ichigo wasn’t sure if he even understood. But it didn’t really matter. What mattered was he had his friends again.
Some of them.
Ichigo had to get back to class at some point. So he did eventually, with a promise from Renji that he would come back after he was dismissed for the day. Like he had every day since the first. Ichigo didn’t understand how he was making that work, but he was glad he did. He didn’t ask too many questions.
Kisuke had also promised to be there when he got back from class. And while he didn’t say it, he gave him that over the fan look, the one that meant I’m proud of you.
So Ichigo trudged his way to class and endured a scolding over why he’d been absent for the last week as if that had never happened before. He dealt with his friends’ silence too, until lunch when they were all gathered together on the roof like old times.
Without him.
Ichigo marched up the stairs with determination. He was going to ask. He was finally going to ask how they could leave him alone like this. Were they really so willing to listen to his father? Orders had never stopped a single one of them from doing what they thought was right.
Did they think that this was right?
He was going to yell. He was so mad. How could they? How could they just act like nothing had ever happened and so easily let him slip out of their lives? Could they not see what this was doing to him? Could they not see how empty he was? How numb?
He shoved open the door, mouth already opening to start in on them all. But finding them sitting in a circle, talking in hushed tones and looking as miserable as he felt - the words died in his throat.
“Kurosaki-kun?”
Ichigo’s eyes snapped to Orihime and he saw his own anguish reflected in her usually warm brown eyes. He looked to Uryuu beside her - expressionless as always - Mizuiro had his head buried in his phone - also as always - Keigo looked like a kicked puppy, and Chad just glanced up to meet his eyes through the fringe of hair and nodded slightly.
Ichigo’s heart pounded in his chest and his voice sounded small and broken even to his own ears. “I know what my dad told you.” He took a shuddering breath.
“Please, don’t make me keep doing this alone.”
It was afternoon and Grimmjow was half asleep on the roof when he felt that orange haired woman’s reiatsu coming from several blocks away. He’d felt it countless times before, but it had been muted, sad even. This was different.
Excitement.
Bittersweet joy.
Perhaps even true happiness.
He didn’t understand where it was coming from but Grimmjow dampened his reiatsu enough to be undetectable and slinked across the rooftops towards where she was. It didn’t take long at all to catch up to her.
A flash of orange hair caught his eye. Two orange-haired figures were walking down the street. One with her reiatsu.
The other with none.
Everything in him was screaming at him to drag the human away from her. That was his prey, his to fight, his to kill. But something wasn’t right.
He prowled along the roofs, watching, waiting. The orange haired woman turned down another street and Grimmjow watched her walk away with narrowed eyes. He didn’t miss the way the human’s shoulders dropped. The way the smile he’d had slid off his face. The way he didn’t need to sense his reiatsu to know that something was very, very wrong.
He couldn’t feel Kurosaki at all.
So Grimmjow did the only thing he could think of. He waited until the orange haired woman was several blocks away, far enough that she wouldn’t come running in an instant. As soon as she was out of range, he leapt gracefully off the roof of the nearest building. He landed in the street not five feet from the human’s face.
Nothing.
Grimmjow growled, low and deep. He drew Pantera and raised her up, settling into a crouch and waiting for a response.
Nothing.
“Kur-o-sa-ki,” he growled the name into four separate syllables, loving the way it rolled over his tongue. His hunt. His prey. No one else’s. But the human didn’t so much as blink when he called his name.
“Kurosaki,” the name came out as a snarl this time.
Grimmjow swung Pantera down, cutting towards his throat. Surely the human would react to save his own neck. Wouldn’t he?
Nothing.
Grimmjow halted the blade a scant hairsbreadth from his skin. He glared into distant, dark amber eyes. Eyes that were once so full of life, of passion. They looked past him, down the empty street. Like he couldn’t even see him.
The human took another step, heedless of the danger of the blade that Grimmjow hastily pulled away. Why did he pull away? One more step, and the human was face-to-face with him. He took another.
And walked right through him.
Ichigo had waited for Orihime to turn down her own street before he let the false smile fade from his face. He sighed and turned away, back towards the Shoten. He was glad to see his friends again, have them back in his life in any way that he could. He was.
But that wouldn’t magically fix things.
He trudged down the dusty street with his shoulders hunched, school bag thrown over one of them. Ichigo was tired, so overwhelmingly tired after a day of pretending to be okay. He didn’t want to scare his friends away. Not when he’d just gotten them back. So he was tired.
Maybe that was why he felt like he was being watched.
It had to be that. His friends would have gotten an alert if there was a hollow around and it wasn’t as if any shinigami was going to randomly stop by to see him. Not anymore. Even if by some miracle someone other than Renji did come by, there was no reason to be hidden when they could get a gigai from Kisuke. He certainly wasn’t going to refuse them one now. Not anyone.
So he tried to ignore the feeling and continued on down the road. But it only grew. He was being watched. Or was he? Ichigo was beginning to doubt that he could even tell. Was he just imagining it all? He wasn’t sure which was worse. His eyes scanned across the road.
Nothing.
He kept walking, feeling the hair standing up on the back of his neck. It wasn’t even just the feeling of being watched. It was the feeling of being stalked.
Like prey.
It sent a shiver up his spine, but the adrenaline now coursing through his veins wasn’t from fear. It was excitement, a thrill of a fight that he could never have. He swore he could almost hear a voice calling his name like a challenge. But no.
Nothing.
He really was losing it.
But maybe, just for a moment, he felt the imagined sizzle of electric blue reiatsu against his skin.
Grimmjow spun around, eyes wide and staring. He watched his enemy - his prey - walk away from him - walk through him. That shouldn’t surprise him. People walked through him all the time. Moving through a crowd was as easy as breathing, when he knew that he could step through everyone as if they weren’t there. It was normal. Expected. People couldn’t see him. Ignored him. Walked straight through him.
But never Kurosaki.
He let his prey slip away and continue down the street unhindered. Pantera was teetering in his suddenly lax grip, his sword’s power feeling just as mixed up and confused as his own. He wondered for a moment, if he reached out, would his blade still cut him? Or would it pass through him just as easily as empty air?
Either way, he couldn’t cut him. Not now. He didn’t just want to kill his prey. He wanted to beat him, dominate him, bring him to his knees, and watch the cocky light he hated so damn much fade from his eyes. He wanted to win.
He couldn’t do that if the human was dead. Powerless. Weak.
Until Grimmjow figured out what the hell was going on, he would have to keep a close watch on him. He’d be damned if he let some low level hollow take what was his.
Grimmjow used reiatsu footholds to jump back up to the top of the closest building. From here he could see for several blocks and keep an eye out for any nearby hollows. He leaped across the roofs of several buildings before landing on the one closest to the blond shinigami’s shop. Kurosaki was standing outside of it. Talking to him. Seeing him.
How?
Instincts were still growling at him that this was his prey. If Kurosaki could see anyone, it should be him. Kurosaki needed to see exactly what he had waiting for him when he was back to full strength. Who was waiting for him. He wanted angry, fiery amber eyes trained on him again. He wanted to feel that burning, suffocating, fierce reiatsu focused entirely on him again. Only him. Only ever him.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.
Grimmjow couldn’t accept that.
He wouldn’t win by default.
When the human slipped inside the shop, the blond shopkeeper stayed, raised his head, and fixed his gaze directly on him. So he knew he was there. That was fine. Grimmjow needed to talk to him anyway. He had to understand.
He landed in front of the shop, one hand on Pantera although he didn’t draw her. The shinigami didn’t so much as flinch, but Grimmjow knew that he could see him. Narrowed cerulean eyes focused on him. “He can see you.”
“Yes,” the shopkeeper agreed.
“How?”
The shopkeeper cocked his head, studying him for a long minute before explaining, “I’m in a gigai. An artificial body. It allows me to appear human - dampens my power temporarily, which is an inconvenient side effect at times…” He noted the last part absently. “Gigai give souls a fully corporeal form in this world, quite simply.”
“So you can interact with humans just like one of them?” Grimmjow confirmed. It wasn’t something he’d ever thought he would have a use for. But now… “You can talk to them, touch them?”
Far too perceptive gray eyes fixed on his face. “Correct.”
“I want one,” he said without hesitation.
“I know.” The shopkeeper turned his back on him as if Grimmjow wouldn’t rip out his spine without a second thought. Normally. Too damn perceptive. He called back over his shoulder, “Come with me, Jaegerjaquez-san. There’s one ready for you in the basement.”
Ichigo was in the room that he was coming to see as his own, a textbook balanced on his knees and leaning back against Renji’s chest, trying to catch up on the mountain of work he had missed. The shinigami had come back early today just to be here when he got back from class. Ichigo didn’t know what he would do without him.
They’d talked a lot this past week. Made some things clear. Mostly that Ichigo was in no headspace for a relationship. This was strictly platonic, and they were both content with that. But Ichigo still wanted Renji with him, whenever he could be. When he was with Renji he felt - just a bit. He was warm, safe, comfortable. He didn’t need to be happy or even to pretend.
Renji accepted him exactly as he was.
In any other circumstance, it would be everything he could possibly want.
But while Ichigo needed the kind of friend Renji was - truly, he couldn’t do this without him - he still needed more. He didn’t just want to be someone who needed to be protected, to be coddled. He appreciated everything that each one of his friends was providing now more than he could possibly explain. So why wasn’t it enough?
He didn’t want safe.
He needed the thrill, the adrenaline rush, the fire that nothing but a good fight could ever make him feel. Renji had sparred with him, but it was painfully obvious that he was having to hold himself back, pulling his punches, keeping Ichigo safe. Of course he was - that was what any good friend would do - no one was going to intentionally do what he needed. Chad and Uryuu had done the same when he had asked. Kept him safe. They moved around him like they were afraid they might break him.
Ichigo wanted someone to at least try to.
He needed a real fight, a brawl, something to challenge him. To make him hurt. Make him feel. Pain was much better than numbness.
“Kurosaki-san,” Kisuke pulled open the door, eyes flickering over the two men curled up together on the futon before they settled on Ichigo’s face. “I need you to come down to the basement with me. There’s something you should see.” He turned to walk away without waiting for a response. Ichigo would follow.
By the time he reached the hatch, Ichigo and Renji were two steps behind him.
Ichigo hated the long climb down the seemingly endless ladder, hated that he couldn’t jump like he always had before. He hadn’t been down here since he lost his powers. There was nothing here for him. He didn’t know what Kisuke was planning, but he doubted it would be anything that could hold his interest. Nothing seemed to anymore.
How wrong he was.
Renji’s feet hit the ground before Ichigo finished climbing down. The shinigami turned away from the ladder. Walked three steps. Froze stock still.
“Kisuke, what the fuck is he doing here?” Renji all but growled.
Ichigo’s sight was blocked by the taller man in front of him and he stepped up beside Renji to see what could possibly have caused that reaction.
Blue hair. Teal estigma. But no mask. Black skinny jeans instead of white hakama. A black tank covering a hollow hole Ichigo wasn’t sure was still there. No sword at his hip. Yet that same white jacket wrapped his broad shoulders.
“Grimmjow?” he choked out.
“Who the fuck else would I be?” the arrancar growled in response and Ichigo had to fight down a likely hysterical laugh that bubbled up at the absurdity of it all.
“Are you… in a gigai?”
“You’re slower than I remembered, Kurosaki.” Cerulean eyes flicked between his prey and the shinigami beside him. He wouldn’t kill the human like this. He had no such reservations about anyone else. Especially if they tried to take what was his.
Ichigo stepped around Renji, walking forwards to meet the arrancar and wondering when in his depression he’d developed an actual death wish, because this was quite possibly the stupidest thing he’d ever done. Gigai or not, the other man was still more than capable of killing him if he wanted to. But did he?
“Why?” Ichigo asked when he was only a few feet away.
“So that I don’t accidentally kill your weak human ass when I do this.”
He moved before Ichigo could even process that statement, still lightning fast even in a gigai. A fist connected with Ichigo’s cheek and jaw. Snapped his head to the side. Split his lip. Copper spilled across Ichigo’s tongue as he felt pain blossom across his face.
Ichigo reeled back a step. Looked up at the former Espada, with blown-out amber eyes meeting fiery cerulean. Spit out a mouthful of crimson blood.
And grinned.