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The damned quack is practically the one who gives orders around here. He says his name is Urahara Kisuke and claims he'll point me to where Kurosaki is once I'm done engaging myself with his hocus pocus. That's the deal. In short; I'm this bastard's slave for now… along with fucking Quinto, his sidekick Tesla, and the Tres Bestias. But then Kisuke ain't so dim after all, because he has just tossed a bottle of something at Quinto.
"Dafuq is this?" Nnoitora asks.
"Whiskey. You guys may need it to calm your nerves before we battle the Quincies."
Anyone who is fucked-up enough to suggest booze at a time like this likely belongs to the rehab or is in the business of running one. But Kisuke is just the type who never bothers with specifics, so when Nnoitora opens his mouth to maybe express his imbecilic notions, Kisuke responds by throwing a stack of paper cups at us. And what choice do we have? We uncork the accursed bottle, and before long the three chicks and Tesla are chugging down heroic quantities of the liquor. At first, I thought it was lame to mingle with these low-grade specimens, but then the alternative of sitting down with Quinto and enduring his antics would no doubt take this shit from 'lame' to 'lamentable'. This then leaves me no other option but to try to get drunk enough, so as not to hear any of Nnoitora's shitty oration.
…
Upon waking up, I find that my head is aching like a bastard. This simply means Quinto's yapping must've been so severely unbearable I had to drink myself within inches of death in order to escape it.
"Oh, you're up. Well, get over your hangover for now and then we'll march off." Sado Yasutora informs me.
I sit up, look around me, to learn that everyone else is wide awake. Entirely sober, for fuck's sake. For some motherfucking reason the sight of the other Arrancar, all in their neat attire as if nothing wild has happened some twelve hours ago, is annoying the living shit out of me. Come on, wasn't it only last night when everyone apart from myself was stoning him/herself witless? And now I am the one who has a frickin’ hangover? Jesus. If most Arrancar handle their alcohol like humans handle water, screw it, we fucking deserve extinction. I mean…just what exactly happened last night? I can't remember one horseshit. The quack must have pulled some sick experiment on me or surgically did something on my brain. He has to have done something . Yep, no other explanation; Kisuke has wiped out my memories of last night.
"Look who's awake. We were all pretty sure you'd died of acute intoxication. Wouldn't be a fucking loss in any case. Anyway, thanks to you and the comic hilarity you demonstrated last night, we would rather sit around for today and gather our fucking wits. I mean, you had Tesla here in stitches. As for me, I've never cracked up that hard in years, Jaegerjaques. I was practically frothing in the mouth." Nnoitora says.
So. I got wasted. Fine. We all have these impulse-control issues and it's not always easy to steer clear of them.
"How drunk was I, exactly?" I ask seriously.
Somehow, I'm getting the feeling I ought to brace myself for some sobering truth. I figure I must have either harassed the females in the night prior or have done some idiotic stunts here and there, thereby earning this satisfaction from Quinto. Well, it could've been worse. But then the ultimate worst is to follow, because Sado says this:
"Well, Grimmjow-san, you kinda said you'd 'fuck Kurosaki Ichigo so hard it's gonna wake people from the dead' . Those were your exact words. That drunk."
He says it all with a straight face. If anyone can be so vocally offensive and at the same time so calm, that person probably is capable of pulling some grand evil not even Aizen can dream of. As it is, I make a motion to grab the hilt of Pantera, for maybe self-defense because he is clearly Aizen-level problematic, after which I ask,
"What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Saying. Fucking. Brat?"
Sado is not able to answer because Nnoitora and Tesla have started sniggering like a pack of hyenas. As you can see, I can completely understand that Quinto is nasty as shit, but why isn’t anybody coming to my defense? Why, you would have to be blind or otherwise have none of your five senses working to not deduce that all these dimwits are on to something that’s gonna harm me big time. But then getting harmed turns out to be the least of my worries because what the Inoue chick says next might as well be a death threat out in the open:
"You also said Kurosaki-kun is so perfect the only thing wrong about him is he's not yours."
Really? These shitheads are this intent on pushing me to my limits? Well, that does it. Carnage is just around the corner. In fact, they've just about begged to hear those two words so seldom heard around here: Grind, Pantera. Yes, they are gonna fucking get it—
"It doesn't end there. You said you were gonna rock his world so wildly off its hinges he'd forget his own name." Tesla contributes.
"Why, you fucking piece of trash—"
"—but then you stressed he wouldn't be needing his name anymore anyway because he'd be adapting yours in the near future, so by then he'd be known as Ichigo Jaegerjaques."
"Say your prayers, filthy little dipshit—"
"—I didn't know you had it in you to be sentimental, Grimmjow. Marriage, really? The boy is seventeen, for crying out loud. The only thing you can gain with that from the human civil law is a statutory rape indictment; definitely not civil union—"
"—Shut yer trap, Shinigami—"
"—Say, Urahara, why did you ever play that stupid Skid Row song anyway? I hate it when grown men sob. There wasn't a need to make Grimmjow cry, was there?" Mila Rose inquires.
Wait, did she just say I was crying? By implying something so heinous she just about assured me that, equipped with a pair of tits or not, she's a dead Fraccion. Just then Kisuke approaches the stereo at the foot of the pillar. Within seconds a song is heard,
Remember yesterday,
Walking hand in hand,
Love letters in the sands
I remember you.
Dafuq is this song? More importantly, why is there a need to play it? Is this some twisted attempt to maintain this bullying spree in a certain mood while keeping the tormenting hardcore? With all the sadistic crap shooting off their damned mouths I’d be surprised if I don’t end up in a fucking mental ward within half an hour of being the receiving end of all these accusations.
"Will you fucking shut that shitty tune off?"
"You're calling it shitty? You were wailing the lyrics last night. I couldn't call what you were doing 'singing', by the way, what with the genuine tears and all."
"I will fucking soap that lying mouth until nothing remains of it, Apacci. Mark my fucking words."
"I'm only telling the truth."
"Fuck you. Why the hell would I sing this sentimental garbage, pray tell?"
"Why, you ask? You were reminiscing about the first time you and the Shinigami kid first held hands." Sung-Sun's face is as blank as her fucking words are meaningless.
Remember yesterday,
Walking hand in hand,
"You lying bunch of cows! When did I ever hold hands with that shitstain?"
"Beats me." Tres Bestias say in unison.
"Yeah, our thoughts precisely . You were probably dreaming big 'cos Kurosaki-kun would never do that, like ever." Kisuke barrels.
It takes all the strength of my soul to refrain from decapitating the fucking quack. Me, fantasizing over something as petty as holding that brat's hand? Spare me, damn it; my dreams are made of much more than that. And then they aren't done yet because,
"I think Grimmjow-san was referring to that time when Kurosaki-kun defeated him in his Resurreccion form in midair. And then Grimmjow-san lost consciousness so Kurosaki-kun had to prevent him from falling hard on the ground by grabbing his wrist. As far as I can tell, we all can consider that as a form of holding hands. So sweet ; I wish you guys had witnessed it." Inoue explains with what probably is delight. Fucking fangirl. For the life of me, I can’t quite comprehend why someone so innocent-looking could be so delighted by the fact that I am barely an inch from either committing genocide or suicide. And what with her twisted mind, her eyes go on to twinkle so adorably after saying something so atrocious. This convinces me that there probably are at least 8 personalities inside her, and a minimum of 9 of them are fucking psychos.
Just what in bloody hell is happening here? I woke up this morning with a heavy headache, and then all eight assholes I have for companions decided to think it's funny to be the bane of my existence. For no apparent reason. What’s being shown here is, these jackasses are taking bullying to a completely different level that it’s actually making me wonder if this ain’t some competition to prove who gets to be the most cruel motherfucker to ever walk the earth. And what would you know; the bullying elevates into something so utterly grotesque when Nnoitora proceeds to ask,
"Hey, can't we all agree to skip the boring parts of last night's show? Can anyone remember what this moron was saying about deep throat? He said he'd force his dick so far down the kid's throat someone would be screaming 'enough'—"
"—What the fuck was that, you fucking Mantis? Bring out Santa Teresa now, after which we get to decide who gets to be vulgar—"
"—But wait; I ain't done talking yet, Grimmjow. And stop lecturing me about vulgarity. If you remembered everything you’d yapped about last night you'd be eating your words from hereon out until the end of, like, fucking forever ."
"Is that so? How about we settle this baloney by combat—"
"—I said, lemme finish yapping. You see, not long after narrating your blowjob goals did you start talking about starting a family. So, aside from your lifelong dream of demolishing Kurosaki's virginity, we are now pretty much aware of your other hopes and aspirations. We just wish you'd make a good father in the future, Grimmjow, except that one of you will have to undergo vaginoplasty."
The snickering that follows is enough to jolt anyone from Aizen's illusions, and that's him using Ban Kai. No shit. Is there no end to this anguish? Granted half of these jackasses have been telling the truth, how can someone be so wasted as to forget his own humanity, as was my alleged state last night? This all leads me to go full circle and to conclude that this is nothing short of pure, unadulterated bullshit. That’s right; these sons of guns are conspiring to complete a demolition job designed to drive me nuts. So I stand up, not really trying to catch these bastards off-guard but only taking the next logical step by unsheathing Pantera, when someone lays a cold, gentle hand on the back of my palm, arresting further movement from me. I turn around to find the last person I expect to see standing behind me.
Ulquiorra Cifer.
"The hell is the meaning of this? You're still alive? Who the fuck brought this useless prick back to life?!" Bewildered, I glance at the people around me, finding myself as the odd one out.
It appears I'm the only one who's boggled shitless by this bastard's sudden appearance. Trying to read his reiatsu, I realize this really is Cuatro Espada. And now nothing here remains a joke. This dude is a bona fide asshole. As a result, we all would sooner drop dead before anything nice should happen—what with this sadistic son of a gun around. But Kisuke speaks, his voice eerily calm,
"The answer is simple. That said, let's head back to your first question, Grimmjow-kun; you were asking how wasted you were last night, right? Well, let's just say you were drunk enough to suggest you could deliver sexual thrill that can utterly bring the dead back to life."
"So? What's that got to do with Cuatro fucker here?"
Nnoitora and Tesla are practically on their knees, their palms pressed against their mouths, the fits of laughter issuing from them unbearable. At this point, the only thing that's keeping me from swinging Pantera at them is my wish to keep a clear distance from them rabid jerks, lest I end up completely bereft of sanity, or anything resembling it.
"Wait, Shinigami, leave the explaining to me." Nnoitora intercepts Kisuke upon recovering. At this point, Ulquiorra has withdrawn his hand from mine, whereby Quinto resumes, with amusement so maniacal I almost cringe, "Grimmjow, the thing is, I asked for a demo— of your bringing-the-dead-back-to-life-with-sex talent. Kakekeke. And then, stoned as you were, you jacked yourself off, obediently."
Kill me.
I don't remember having been this distraught in the entirety of my existence. No shit. You see, it’s not like me to beg for anything, but why can’t the world just burn to the fucking ground at this point? When the oppression I’ve been dealing with for the last thirty minutes would make the seven circles of hell look like a fucking theme park? So with what sanity I still have left I fortify myself, wondering what manner of violence is suitable for the situation when Tesla rejoins,
"To your credit, the shit worked. It now only remains to be seen whether Kurosaki shall find your service as thrilling as you purport it to be or not."
"Tesla, I will rip you in half as bad as how the Shinigami did you in if you don't stitch that goddamned dumpsite you have for a fucking mouth. Do you trashes hear me? Quit this or I'll blast each and every one of your asses to the next hell and beyond. That's a freaking promise."
"Sexta is right. This has gone long enough." Ulquiorra intervenes. This is the first time he's said something that does not annoy the crap out of me. But then he turns to me, "Sexta, I won't let you gain the satisfaction of believing you have resurrected me. To be clear, Inoue Orihime was the one who revived me, but…"
"Just spit it out, ya dumb fuck."
"I was basically unconscious at the beginning of the process. And then in the depths of my slumber I heard you screaming Kurosaki Ichigo's name in what probably was extreme pleasure, as implied by Jiruga. Surprisingly, that was enough to wake me up entirely. Maybe I owe you a little, after all…Listen, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, we were never friends but hear me out: do something about it already. Maybe offer Kurosaki Ichigo sexual intercourse directly?"
One more tormentor into the bargain. Just great. And because I’m now entirely bereft of the energy to tell Cuatro that only twisted motherfuckers of his caliber would hazard to give out such an abominable piece of advice, I merely stare at him blankly. To top things off, now I'm hearing Kisuke speaking to the Inoue chick about reviving Coyote Starrk. While alive, that dickwad rarely participated in anything that involved talking, but because I have shit for luck I might as well assume he'll be using what good is being Primera Espada to add to my present torment. No doubt about it. Jesus. Sure as hell, these nine hoodlums are gonna be the death of me. All because Urahara Kisuke thought it fit to hand out booze on the fucking onset.
Are you reading this, Kurosaki? Rescue me from these assholes, for fuck's sake… er, yeah; literally for the sake of fucking.
END