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The concept of time didn’t exist in Hueco Mundo the way it did in the living world. Grimmjow didn’t judge hours or days because there were no days. He passed the time by how often he slept, or whenever Halibel sent him out to the perimeter of their makeshift kingdom. Time was a human concept, and Grimmjow had no need for it.
He had no need, yet he found himself wandering out of a garganta over Karakura Town every day at noon. It had become routine. Instinct made him stop whatever he was doing, open the rift, and appear over the Kurosaki house. It was asinine. Kurosaki couldn’t even see him.
The vibrant, volatile reiatsu that flared around Kurosaki was gone, and Grimmjow felt its loss the same way he had his fraccion. It was alien and wrong, cold in a way. It would be hell to Kurosaki, and Grimmjow didn’t know how he kept going. The paranoia alone would have driven Grimmjow insane. Not to mention the adjustment to losing a skill he had since birth. It was like losing a limb though Kurosaki didn’t have the luxury of seeing the stump in the mirror.
Two months had gone by since Grimmjow woke up and started his vigil. In that time, he watched Kurosaki shift from a fiery, unstoppable force to a wraith. It was pathetic, humiliating, and unnecessary. Was this Kurosaki’s reward for protecting Soul Society from itself? Did they really think stripping him of everything was for the greater good? The asshole soul reapers had no understanding of men like Grimmjow and Kurosaki. Caging them didn’t solve anything. It only made new, worse problems.
Kurosaki’s cheer squad was also absent. At first Grimmjow thought they came at a different time than him, but when he began to sit all day with Kurosaki, he noticed none of them were there. Even the healer girl who gave Kurosaki a dramatic inspirational speech didn’t visit. It was wrong. Worse when Grimmjow noticed Kurosaki’s parent playing gatekeeper with visitors. The humans outside weren’t even the ones to storm Las Noches. They had such little spiritual awareness it was laughable.
Grimmjow didn’t care to hear the reason the washed up shinigami turned Kurosaki’s friends away. It wasn’t any of his business, but wasn’t Kurosaki motivated by his loved ones? Shouldn’t they have been gathered around him in his time of need or some drivel like that? Strengthening bonds or telling him it would be fine?
Whatever. Grimmjow dropped down on Kurosaki’s bed and watched him scribble at a notebook. Kurosaki looked too thin. His hair had grown out a bit, and that was nice, but Grimmjow had a feeling it hadn’t been a choice. The way Kurosaki moved through his life reminded Grimmjow of Ulquiorra. Nothing meant anything, there was no joy.
Szayel had called Ulquiorra a textbook depression case, and Grimmjow curled his lip. Kurosaki didn’t deserve to feel that kind of emptiness. He was too vibrant, too full of life. If he died now, Kurosaki would turn out no different to Ulquiorra.
Grimmjow couldn’t let that happen.
The bedroom door opened to the Cute Kurosaki. She rapped her knuckles on the door frame and stepped inside.
“Ichigo? I was looking at cake recipes for your birthday, and I wanted to know what flavor to bake.” Cute Kurosaki fiddled with her hair. It was growing out, too, but it looked well maintained. Intentional.
Kurosaki shook his head. “I don’t want a cake, Yuzu.”
Cute Kurosaki’s eyes widened, and she reminded Grimmjow of a doll. “Oh. We always do something small. I’ll make your favorite dinner! And Karin and I found you the best present!”
Kurosaki’s hand slid off the desk to his thigh, and Grimmjow watched him clench his fist out of Cute Kurosaki’s eyesight.
Kurosaki’s voice held an edge of anger. “Yuzu, get out of my room. Leave me alone.”
Cute Kurosaki took a step back, her lips trembled, but she stood her ground. Grimmjow found it commendable. She balled her own hands into determined fists and widened her stance. Good girl. Make him listen.
“I think it would be good for you to get out of your room and at least have dinner with us tomorrow!” Kurosaki turned his head toward her, and she cowed. “Please?”
Kurosaki shook his head. “You don’t understand. None of you do. Get out, Yuzu.”
“Ichigo.” She lifted her hand and moved toward him.
Kurosaki snapped, “Get out!”
Cute Kurosaki recoiled like Kurosaki spit venom at her. Her lower lip trembled and tears sparkled at the corners of her eyes. She retreated, and Grimmjow still considered her effort valiant. She wasn’t raised to battle or handle creatures like them. The fact she tried at all earned her his respect.
The door clicked shut, and Kurosaki deflated. He thumped his head against his desk and laid there for a few seconds. Grimmjow sniffed and pushed off the bed to trail after Cute Kurosaki. She was standing outside the door when he phased through it, and he watched her shiver.
After a few seconds, Cute Kurosaki made her way downstairs to where Mean Kurosaki was sitting.
“Ichigo yelled at me.” Cute Kurosaki wiped at her eyes.
Mean Kurosaki rested her head against the back of the sofa. “You’re surprised? He’s depressed, and Dad won’t let his friends see him. He needs them. He needs other people.”
The sentiment resonated in Grimmjow. He was a social thing himself, and he needed his fraccion. Without them, he had lost so much of his own drive, and the loneliness threatened to consume him. He never thought he would sympathize with a shinigami, but he also never thought he would live this long.
Grimmjow drifted back upstairs into Kurosaki’s room. The poor bastard had migrated to the bed and curled up with his back to the door. It felt wrong seeing him like that, but Grimmjow couldn’t interact with him as a spirit. And if he did anything too obnoxious, one of Kurosaki’s irritating shinigami pals would show up.
Grimmjow sat down on the edge of Kurosaki’s desk and thought about his options. There was one person he could talk to, but the idea made his insides squirm. He looked at Kurosaki’s broken form and let air out between his teeth. He was going to regent this, he knew it, but at least Halibel brokered some kind of peace with the crazy hat guy.
He pushed off the desk and slipped through the wall. It was only a few seconds before he stepped onto the porch leading into Hat Guy’s shoten. Grimmjow didn’t bother with his boots and made his way through the storefront. He stepped up onto the vestibule and knocked at the frame that lead into the house.
Footsteps padded across the floor a few seconds later, and the door opened to the exact person he wanted. Wasn't he lucky?
“I need a favor.” Grimmjow slid his hands into the slits of his hakama.
Cat Lady smiled and leaned against the door frame. Grimmjow imagined her tail flicking in interest behind her. “It’ll cost you.”
Grimmjow readied himself for the encroaching horrors. “He’s worth it.”
~*~
Ichigo rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. It was his birthday, and his stomach cramped at the idea. The rest of him felt sore, but his chest felt hollow. It had felt like that since he returned home, and he wondered if that was just how things were now. His fingers traced where Ulquiorra had pierced him, but the flesh was intact. No gaping hole, no emptiness consuming his heart. Flesh and bone and blood. That’s all he was now, wasn’t it?
But what if the hole came back? He knew what made a hollow, and while Shiro was silent in his head, he knew that part of himself was still there. Waiting.
Ichigo turned over the rest of the way to face the door and found a cat curled against his pillow. He jolted upright until he reminded himself that it would be a physical, living animal and not a ghost. He couldn’t see those anymore.
Ichigo muttered, “What the hell?”
The cat opened its eyes, and he was struck by how blue they were. And familiar. He couldn’t shake the feeling he had seen them before. The cat yawned and stretched. It flicked its black tipped tail and stood up to sit on its haunches. It was fluffy, white, and large. Its paws and nose were also black, and there was a discolored pattern to its stomach and jaw. The combination looked familiar, but Ichigo couldn’t think why.
Ichigo sat up on his elbows. “Where did you come from?”
The cat stared at him a heartbeat before jumping on his stomach. It kneaded his shirt, circled, and flopped down on him. It was adorable, and Ichigo couldn’t stop himself from running his hand down its back. The fur was soft, warm.
“Did my sisters bring you home?” Yuzu always found strays to feed. Ichigo ran his hand along its neck and noticed a blue ribbon.
He pursed his lips and searched for any identification when a folded note slipped out. His name was scrawled on the front of the paper, and he frowned while he opened it. The handwriting was jagged but legible, like the owner wasn’t used to writing.
Shut up and stop being so sad. I’m still with you. You owe me a fight for this.
Ichigo’s nose scrunched, and he stared at the cat. There was no way in hell. No fucking way.
“Grimmjow?”
The cat lifted its head and bunted him. It wiggled itself before it laid back down on his stomach. Ichigo could only describe its expression as smug. It was Grimmjow! How the hell did he turn himself into a cat? Urahara had to be involved, the asshole. Oh, no. Yoruichi did this. And she knew exactly what she was doing, too.
Grimmjow lifted a paw and papped the back of the note. Ichigo sighed and scratched Grimmjow’s ears. This was too surreal. He turned the note over.
The back of the note read: Happy birthday, asshole.
Tears pricked Ichigo’s eyes, and he struggled to keep t hem back. His hand stilled on Grimmjow’s head. Grimmjow tilted his head up, and his expression looked even more predatory in a house cat than a man. Ichigo wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
Ichigo sniffed and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Grimmjow made a low noise in his throat and bunted Ichigo’s hand again. Ichigo wiped at his eyes again before he ruffled Grimmjow’s ears. The throaty rumble turned into a strong purr, and Ichigo couldn’t believe an arrancar, the one who tried to kill him multiple times, was purring on him.
Ichigo cleared his throat and mumbled, “I didn’t know you cared.”
This was no doubt to try to get his fight, but Ichigo couldn’t deny it was sweet. Unexpected, but sweet. He blew air between his teeth and smiled. Grimmjow watched him, and Ichigo inched down enough to lay his head on his pillow. When he settled, Grimmjow moved closer to tuck himself close to Ichigo’s face. His tongue lapped away a few tears, and Ichigo tried not to think about how strange it felt. Or the fact Grimmjow had let Yoruichi shove him into a cat gigai.
Ichigo sighed and drug Grimmjow close r bury his nose in the soft belly fur . The purring was nice, and Ichigo decided to ignore all the other odd thoughts about it for a few moments longer . The both of them would need to talk about this later, and maybe he could convince Grimmjow to get an actual gigai, but he appreciated the sentiment.
Maybe he would invite Grimmjow to dinner.