Chapter Text
He didn't expect life to be fair, because he was seventeen years old and knew better. And he had breath in his lungs and food in his belly on most days so by the standards of many, he was doing pretty well for himself. But there were a lot of times that Ichigo thought he probably had not had a single easy day in his entire life.
It had all started to go downhill when his mother died in an accident. She was the pillar of their family and her absence created an ever-aching void in Ichigo, his sisters, and their father. He had such clear, happy memories from his childhood with her but his sisters were not as fortunate: they had only been five when she passed and had a lot fewer memories of her kindness and love. The family had nearly fallen to pieces in their grief at losing her.
After they had pulled their lives back together as much as possible and stumbled forward, a day had come where his father told them that they would all be moving to a new country. "It will be a fresh start!" he had promised with a forced cheer in his tone that was becoming more inauthentic by the day. Ichigo had bitterly asked him after Yuzu and Karin were in bed how much of it was really 'a fresh start' versus running away from the pain of being surrounded by memories of Mom.
There was no room for negotiation, Isshin had responded firmly. This was what they were doing and it would be good for all of them.
The start may have been fresh but that didn't make it good, as far as Ichigo was concerned. The travel was lengthy and the transition upon finally arriving was difficult. For all that their new "home" had variety in its people, that did not necessarily mean that everyone was welcomed with open arms. His family did not sound or look similar to most other people in their new town and it was more than obvious that made a world of difference. He caught himself thinking at one point that his mother would have hated it here.
Ichigo had left all of the friends he had back home and it certainly did not appear in those early days that any replacements would be forthcoming. He was fine though, because he had his sisters and his father and they needed him and took priority.
He had developed a quick temper as a teenager after his mother died. It was easy back then to be angry at the world, to let his frustration out as rage instead of sadness. His temper led to a number of consequences that were often physical: he got into many fights and they were the perfect release for the pressure that built up inside him. And with so much fighting, he grew to be a better fighter. When they settled into their new home, Ichigo once again found more trouble and more fights to relieve his feelings and quiet worries.
Through all of the changes, they continued to power through, to try to continue picking up the pieces of everything they had left. Ichigo and the girls went to a new school (where they blended in as well as geese in a flock of chickens) while their father worked.
...Then Isshin began getting sick. Initially he played it off as the common cold. He would be excessively fatigued and have fevers but assured Ichigo, Yuzu, and Karin that he would get better soon. But he never seemed to get better. Despite his best efforts to hide it for as long as he could, the three of them soon realized that he was just getting worse.
He saw a local doctor who could not provide answers but suggested trying more tea and a little cocaine to give the body a boost in its recovery efforts. The suggestions did not help and Isshin's condition continued to worsen. In a matter of months he was homebound more often than not.
Suddenly Ichigo was the only one who could support their whole family, and he had no choice but to rise to the occasion by working whatever job would take him to pay for their food, shelter, and clothing. It was only after he found more resistance than he expected that he realized how naïve he had been. Getting spoken down to or regarded with disdain by strangers on the street, he could handle: it was frustrating but he was used to confrontation and needing to defend himself. What he was not used to was being treated the same way by people who were keeping him from earning money that everyone in his family was counting on.
On top of everything else, he was very alone. His father was bedridden for a good portion of the day and he barely saw his sisters between finding jobs, walking to jobs, actually working, and sleeping. He had not had any further success making acquaintances, let alone friends. People around his own age always seemed to regard him with a degree of suspicion or acted like he was practically invisible.
But it was fine. Because Ichigo didn't need anyone.
Doing work on a farm did not pay especially well and he would have to find something else to do when winter came around, but it had been better than nothing for the past several months. This warm part of the year was especially busy and he could feel the wear on his body as he headed towards home before the sun sunk too low on the horizon. Something in his back popped when he stretched and the noise made Ichigo cringe.
The clipping of hooves off the hardened dirt road alerted him to company before he saw it coming. There was a man who bred horses who lived a ways out of town, and he made a bi-weekly trip out to the farm to pick up as much feed as he could fit on his horse-drawn cart. He tied it all up with twine and chattered happily to anyone nearby while he did so. He was friendly enough and had spoken to Ichigo on multiple occasions, but never seemed to remember his name. Ichigo snit about it internally a bit but - in all fairness - he never really remembered the man's name, either, so he didn't have much room to judge. The name might have started with a B.
The same two horses always pulled the cart and while the chestnut-colored one looked pretty docile, the black one always eyed Ichigo like it was waiting very patiently for an opportunity to kick him if he came close enough. He had never chanced it before and didn't plan to do so now as they pulled up beside him. Ichigo may have been familiar with taking a few punches but catching a hoof to the skull might actually rattle his brain, and that was the last thing he needed.
True to form, the horseman brightened up when he saw Ichigo and slowed with the reins. "Hey, good evening there, A-chi-, uh..."
"Ichigo."
"Right!" he agreed happily as if he had known that all along. "How are you, son?"
Ichigo shrugged his shoulders unenthusiastically. "I'm alright." It wasn't as if he had much exciting news to report in general. He had even less to say to what was essentially only a half-step above a stranger, no matter how talkative he was.
The man on the cart seemed to think about something for a minute. "Listen, you seem like a hard-working kid from what I've seen of you around here. I don't know whether this would help you out or not, but my brother-in-law works in the coal mine and he just told me the other day that there's a strike going on. The union men who staff the mines, all of them stopped working. The entire union refuses to go back until they get higher wages and some other things they're asking for."
Having exactly zero idea why this story was being shared with him, Ichigo replied with a confused, "Oh."
The man frowned a little at the lack of reaction. "The reason I'm telling you this is that the mine owners don't want production to stop. They'll pull in anyone - no offense - to work so that they can stay operational. It's dangerous work and it's dirty, but those people are desperate enough that they'll be willing to pay more than you're getting there on that farm, I can tell you that for sure." Following that comment, Ichigo was listening much more closely and it must have shown on his face because Mr. B-name continued, "I thought you should know what was going on, in case you were interested. You know where that general store is across from the church in town? Go down the road beside that and a ways down the road, you'll see it. Probably a bit of a walk, if I'm honest."
He glanced up at the position of the sun and jerked back in surprised. "Well shoot, I have to get going here. But nice to see you again, son."
"Sure." When the horses started moving, Ichigo opened his mouth again to hastily add, "And thanks, for the tip."
He stood there after the cart was out of sight and took a while just to think. They were getting by at the moment in terms of housing and food but there was never any money to spare. Holes in their clothes were always carefully mended by Yuzu (more frequently) and Karin (less frequently) so that they would only rarely have to buy anything new. Ichigo's shoe had an embarrassing spot on the sole that was worn thin and growing thinner by the day, so he never propped his feet up for anyone to notice. And they certainly didn't have money to spare for any better medical care for his father or luxuries.
A little extra money would certainly be a help to them, if this was something he would be able to pull off. There were no guarantees, but-
Instead of taking the road towards home, he backtracked to the farm to tell them he would need to come by a little late the next day.
The following morning, Ichigo woke up and followed the horseman's directions towards the mine before the sun had risen more than a fraction. He would have gone even earlier if he had thought someone would be present so early because if this didn't pan out in his favor, he still needed to get over to the farm and stay the course there until the weather cooled.
His father had not been up and about for much of the previous evening so he hadn't said anything to him, and he had also avoided mentioning it to his sisters. He didn't want to get their hopes up in the event that nothing came of this, not when they had been disappointed in the past when Ichigo thought he might have a foot in the door for something that would make their lives a little easier, only for it to fall through. And he was trying not to get his own hopes too high, but a small part of him couldn't help but think about what they could do if this really did pay as well as that man had made it sound.
For all that he had focused on keeping his expectations low, he had a muted feeling that he hadn't had in a long time: some secret whisper that something good just might happen this time. That would be great if true, if he finally had a chance to really do it right.
Ichigo was following a well-worn path complete with tracks from heavily burdened wheels, and as he had gone further and further out of town, he had caught up with other men walking in the same direction. He didn't bother starting up a conversation but figured they were all going to the same place for the same reason. The walk took just over an hour and fifteen minutes but they all eventually found the right place.
Even Ichigo, having never seen a mine site before, could tell what the place was as it came into view. There was another pack of men stationed along the path out front, most of whom were just standing and casually talking. A few of them were making a racket or had signs in their hands or propped by their feet. Some of the racket, Ichigo very quickly realized, was directed towards the men like him filtering towards the entrance. Insults were being thrown but everyone ahead of Ichigo was ignoring any words slung their way, eyes kept ahead with single-minded purpose.
Obviously, these were the men refusing to work that had been described to Ichigo. That was their own fault, then, he thought bitterly. They didn't have any room to complain about others taking their spots if they had willing left them.
There was a tension surrounding this place, a fog of unsettled, irritable energy. Ultimately none of this was any of Ichigo's business. He wanted to get in, get out, and get to work if at all possible. Whatever else was happening here with these people was not in his line of sight or worth his curiosity, and none of it would slow his pace.
Until it did.
"Take a look at all these fuckin' scumbags coming in here," he overheard someone scoff from the group at the side of the road. "Couple of 'em look fresh off the boat, too."
He heard muttered agreement, he heard laughter in response, and that was what stopped his feet from continuing forward as red bled into his vision.
Who was anyone to make judgments about him, to know what his life was like? He didn't have the luxury that these assholes had, to stand on the sidelines and complain and make demands! He had to do what he needed to do or else his family would be hungry and homeless. Life beat him down again and again and wasn't it just such a funny joke, that everyone else should laugh?
Fuck them. And fuck this man who made the initial comment in particular.
There was always one, Ichigo thought with a scowl as he turned to look at the crowd. Always one jackass who led the rest of the jackasses until they were one big lump that wasted air, no matter the country. It was not a challenge to pick out the prime suspect, either: the one who had made the remark had his chin cocked up and didn't look embarrassed or cowed at all about running his mouth. He looked the part, alright. If 'trouble' had a look, it would be this man. It was a small enough town that Ichigo may have seen him in passing before, but he didn't remember the face if he had.
Ichigo spun his body and stomped in that direction, sparing no thought to whether he would be hurting his chances by getting involved in an argument. He was too angry to give that any attention right now, too fed up with getting shoved into the dirt by everyone who thought he didn't deserve anything. The other men who noticed him were looking at him with either surprise at his reaction or eager expectation at what had the potential to become a good show.
"You want to say that again?" he demanded. The one who had made the initial comment was caught off-guard enough to need an instant to recover, so Ichigo pressed forward. "To my face, since I'm right here."
He actually laughed out loud at that and stepped up to Ichigo too, until they were practically nose to nose. It rankled that he had to angle his head down to do so, as he was a bit taller. "Sure, I can say it again. Can hear me real well now, can't you?"
They stared at each other, Ichigo in fury and this other man in what seemed to be amusement more than anything else. He definitely was not taking Ichigo seriously, didn't see him as anything close to a threat. His eyes were almost unbelievably blue up close and his facial structure was sharp. Probably had women falling all over themselves to talk to him. That made Ichigo hate him even more. What a waste those eyes were on this kind of jerk.
No one else approached them. They seemed content enough to let this man handle things on his own.
"Just fine," Ichigo bit out. "Let's hear it, then."
"I said that you're a fuckin' scumbag for trying to fill in here in the middle of all this, and that you look like you're fresh off the boat. Got it this time, kid?" He appeared to be delighted by the opportunity to repeat himself right in Ichigo's face; there was not even a hint of shame.
Generally speaking, Ichigo tried not to initiate as many fights nowadays, in so far as throwing the first punch was concerned. Verbal altercations were fine, he could start those and get right in someone's face. But when he fought with fists, his sisters worried, and then he would feel very guilty and whatever satisfaction he received as a result of exchanging some blows tended not to be worth it... most of the time.
He was thinking that he would make an exception in this case and swing first when that loud mouth started up again. "Didn't you have something else that you needed to be doing now? Can't imagine you came all the way here just to entertain me."
The words took a moment to click because while he (regrettably) had a point, Ichigo had no idea why that idea was even on his radar. "What does that matter to you? You have to know that I came over here to hit you for running your mouth, you're not getting out of it now! I can put you on the ground whenever so we may as well get it over with. What are you, scared?"
The man laughed again, unfazed in the face of hostility. "You've got a lotta nerve. I like that. Tell you what: you meet me over there," he paused to throw his thumb over his shoulder to indicate a small building a ways away, set back from the main area, "When you're done, and we'll duke it out just like you want. Real curious whether you'll still have such a smart mouth after I beat the shit outta you."
As if Ichigo was going to be intimidated by any of this cocksure talk. "You can keep wondering that because you won't be finding out."
The man just grinned back and leaned in a little too close to Ichigo. "Why don't you start moving your skinny ass where you need to be so that you finish up quick and don't keep me waiting?" And with that, before Ichigo could make any moves or speak up in retaliation, he turned and stepped back to rejoin the crowd. At least a few of them were visibly disappointed that it had not dissolved into a fist fight on the spot.
That same arrogant voice was easier to pick out over any of the others when it replied to a question that Ichigo only half caught: "What do you think 'm going to do? Going to beat his ass. He's got a lotta attitude, we'll see whether he can back it up."
Ichigo had to stop himself from chasing after him to start swinging, other obligations be damned. He could back up his attitude, asshole, and he would be happy to prove it. Gritting his teeth and with one final dark look at the man's back, he continued on towards his original destination.
"You can understand English, can't you?"
Ichigo had to bite down hard on what he wanted to respond to the man with a thick mustache managing all of the paperwork. "Yes, I can."
The questions that followed were not quite as infuriating and he was told that he would get paid this much this often - take it or leave it - and if he agreed to all of that, he should sign his name here. Despite the hard and fast rule about no negotiation, the pay was still much higher than Ichigo had ever been offered before. "And this is all you need from me?"
The man frowned at Ichigo as he squared up the papers by rapping them against the table. "Yes, that's all. You need to be here tomorrow morning at 6:30."
The tension finally eased from his spine as he stepped back outside and into the warm sun. That was it. He had done it. He had new work to take care of his family for the time being. That was one task down for the day, and the one that made this day a success regardless of whatever else happened.
Now, secondarily, he had an ass-kicking to distribute. If a good beating would knock that bastard down a peg or two, then it would be a fantastic day for Ichigo, and he would happily take one of those for a change.
The crowd of men outside was mostly still there and Ichigo received dirty looks as soon as he stepped back out. He didn't give a damn about their opinions. He only had interest in one of them and a quick scan proved that one had already gone. Hopefully gone to where he had mentioned and not fled altogether; that seemed unlikely. For all the bad things Ichigo could already say about that man, he would acknowledge that he didn't seem the type to turn tail and flee after running his mouth so much.
He started off in the direction he had been given only to overhear in passing, "I hope that redhead foreigner does put him on the ground. It'll do him some good: he's always too cocky, gets on my last damn nerve."
Interesting. So lead jackass wasn't quite as popular as he may have thought.
The shed appeared to be infrequently used but intact enough that Ichigo was not too worried about it collapsing down on him as he opened the door to step inside.
Sure enough, his opponent was waiting for him in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets, staring right back at Ichigo with pleasant surprise. "I thought for fuckin' sure you were going to back out once you realized what you got yourself into, but here you are. You're really something."
He probably thought that was a huge compliment. Ichigo found it obnoxious. "Why are we in here rather than out in the open? You don't want any of your friends to see you lose a fight?"
A snort of amusement. "You fuckin' wish. We fight out there and one of the big wigs sees you, they think you're just another troublemaker and you lose that nice shiny scab job you just got handed."
While that was - again - probably true, the question of why it mattered persisted. "That's my problem, not yours. What do you care?"
"Call it a long-term investment. What if you're a good fight? If you never have a reason to come back, probably won't see you again and this'll be a one-and-done. But you have a reason to come back," he explained, a visible mirth in the way he inclined his chin upward, "And I get lots of chances if you're as good a punching bag as you look."
He definitely had a way of getting under someone's skin. Every word was carefully selected to be an affront, every hint of amused lilt in his voice intended as a degradation. Ichigo was more than willing to taunt back. "Fine, then let's get on with it and let you find out. Seems like you do a whole lot of talking. Is that all you can do?"
The way those eyes narrowed on him while the man's lips curled in anticipation must have been the equivalent of being stared down by a predatory animal in the wild. He looked dangerous and enthusiastic, like fighting was the reason he lived and breathed and he was damn good at it.
Not that it mattered. Ichigo could take him, or else he would be a bloody mess for having tried.
Each had already landed some solid hits only minutes later. A left hook hit the side of Ichigo's face like a hammer and he passingly thought - upon tasting blood in his mouth - that he would have a terrible time explaining to his family why he was missing several teeth if that hit had been as hard as it felt. He was thrown off-balance enough by the strike that he ended up on the ground with the other man regarding him smugly from above. Ichigo thrust the heel of his foot directly at the nearest kneecap and heard the pained exhalation when it connected.
The man dove down after him and they grappled on the ground for a while exchanging blows where they could until they were both sporting bloody mouths and rapidly bruising limbs. Ichigo rolled away with the intention of getting back to his feet to continue. The other did not follow suit; he sat up, wiped his mouth on his forearm, and surveyed the blood smeared there for a moment.
Ichigo took the opportunity to make sure all of his teeth were still where he wanted them.
"Guess you weren't all talk after all," was mused at him from the ground. "Half-decent, really." Ichigo shot him a glare for that but he didn't notice. "What's your name?"
A strange time for that sort of question. But he responded, "Kurosaki I-" without thinking before catching himself in the habit. That was not how they introduced themselves here, he remembered. Just what he needed: more emphasis on the fact that he was a foreigner, more making himself seem out of place, especially to someone who seemed eager for ammunition to exploit. "Ichigo, it's Ichigo," he remedied.
The other man regarded him with an eyebrow raised like Ichigo was a complete idiot. "Well, which one is it?"
Ichigo scowled at him. "Back in my home country, we give the family name first. So Kurosaki is my family name but my name is Ichigo."
"Huh. Mine's Jaegerjaquez," and at Ichigo's wary glance, he grinned teasingly. "That's my last name. But my first name's Grimmjow." He leapt to his feet, brushed the dirt off his pants, and casually started off towards the door. Ichigo could tell that he was attempting to force through it but the knee that Ichigo had kicked was giving him a bit of an awkward gait. "See you around, Kurosaki."
It was obviously done to make fun of him, so Ichigo angrily corrected, "It's Ichigo!" at his departing back. "And why would I want to see you around?!"
"I like 'Kurosaki!'" Grimmjow insisted over his shoulder cheerfully. And he left, simple as that. Left as though this had not been a fight for pride, or respect; it had just been a fight because he wanted it.
What sort of man was that? There was an unease growing in Ichigo's gut as though something had begun that he did not fully understand.
And the unease was followed by a groan when he remembered that he needed to detour another several miles over to the farm - to tell them he wouldn't be working there any longer - before he was able to head home. In a small town, it was best to avoid burning bridges with the people enabling him to put food on their table. At least he hadn't taken any serious damage to his legs. He was going to be using them a lot more tonight.
The girls, of course, were dismayed when he finally came home looking like he had been dragged along a road and thrown into some buildings for good measure. However equally worse for wear Ichigo may have made that Grimmjow look, that didn't mean he looked any better.
"I thought you were done with all the fighting!" Yuzu scolded as she set a wet rag over the swelling around his eye. That felt like it was going to look horrific.
He didn't really have a decent excuse for himself; all he could really do was shrug his shoulders and mutter a "thanks" as she tended to him. Fortunately his father seemed to already be in bed, so that was one less I'm-going-to-pretend-this-is-very-funny-in-front-of-your-sisters-but-as-soon-as-they're-gone-it's-not lecture to sustain.
"Does the other man look as bad as you?" Karin asked.
"Of course he does." A lie: Ichigo hadn't caught Grimmjow in the eye as far as he knew, only the jaw, which would not bruise as dramatically. Maybe he was still limping, though. That idea cheered Ichigo up. He didn't know whether Grimmjow went home to a family or a wife at the end of the night that would ask questions but it would be funny if he had to explain that away. "More importantly, I have a new job now. I'll be gone more because it's a further walk and I think I'll work longer hours, but I'm hoping that it will make things easier around here for all of us. Maybe we can get a doctor to see the old man again."
"You're going to be the one needing a doctor if you start fighting all the time again." Yuzu was pressing against the swelling a little harder than was strictly necessary, in Ichigo's opinion. He accepted the reprimand without complaint. When all was said and done, he wasn't too badly off and the fight had allowed him to blow off some steam, so - for as odd and abrupt as it had been - it hadn't been the worst thing.
In thinking about it now, Ichigo did spare a moment to wonder what would happen when they next saw each other. Grimmjow was part of that union group striking, which probably meant that he would often be there when Ichigo went in and out. His demeanor after the fight had been far from hostile: he had seemed perfectly pleased with how things had turned out. If Ichigo had to guess, he didn't think that he had made a genuine enemy today. Maybe more of a... peculiar rival.
The only problem was that, as it turned out, Ichigo was not sure what to expect from one of those.
He woke up bright and early the next day to ensure that he would arrive on time. Yuzu was awake to make him a lunch and insisted that he eat more than a little bread and an egg before leaving which put him a few minutes behind schedule, so he jogged for the first part of the way to make up the time, just in case.
As he arrived and passed the beginning of the line of union protesters, he heard the distinctive sound of someone beginning to keep pace beside him. Ichigo knew who it would be without turning to look.
"Well, look who it is. Hey there, shithead," was crowed from his left.
"What do you want?"
"Wanted to tell you to have a great day underground, of course. Be happy to put you down there myself, you know, if you want a round two. Maybe in a nice comfortable wood box. What do you say?"
Ichigo finally glanced to his side to issue a well-deserved scowl. "I say, 'how does your knee feel?' You seem to have a pretty bad memory. I think I remember you on the ground next to me and limping away when you left."
None of his verbal jabs seemed to land well on Grimmjow; he either grinned or laughed. He never appeared to be offended, nor upset. These back and forth challenges and insults were either genuinely fun for him or he was a phenomenal actor. Even now, his eyes shined in delight at Ichigo's snark and his mouth was curved into the shape of that arrogant smirk.
"If that's how you feel then I guess you'd be down to go again. Assuming you're not chickening out after yesterday, that is."
"I'm sure you wish I would so that you don't have to take anymore hits. But sure: I can go anytime you want."
Grimmjow's response was a pleased hum. "Then I'll see you after, Kurosaki. Same place." They parted ways as Ichigo continued inside and Grimmjow remained out, and that was all the discussion required to schedule their rematch.
In the vein of every seventeen year old believing in his own invincibility, Ichigo went into the day not exactly expecting it to be a piece of cake but thinking that it would be no more exertion than say, doing serious labor on a farm all day long. He was proven wrong in very short order and - also in the vein of every seventeen year old - would have literally rather died than admit it. When he sat down to eat his lunch, he could already feel the soreness beginning to pool in his muscles. He was already filthy, tired, and eager to go home, but still had hours remaining and an obligation to fight after. Great.
He still had the bruises from yesterday to prove that Grimmjow was no pushover. His sisters were not going to be happy about him coming home today with evidence of having taken an even worse beating. Ichigo cursed to himself as he bit into his sandwich. Hopefully that blow to the knee would make the other man a little slower today, at least enough to even out the playing field.
The remaining few hours drained Ichigo even more and he felt dead on his feet as he stepped back out into the sunlight that afternoon. To his surprise, most of Grimmjow's group had already dissipated by that point. It was probably boring to stand there all day but he supposed they didn't have much else to do. Surely not all of them strolled around looking for fist fights to occupy their time like Grimmjow did.
As had happened the prior day, he swung the door to the storage shed open to find Grimmjow waiting for him. Ichigo filled his lungs with air and put on his best front of 'energetic-and-ready-to-throw-down.' "Here I am, as promised."
"'Bout time!" Grimmjow looked as enthusiastic and lively as yesterday without having to pretend, and Ichigo couldn't help but notice that he was moving on his injured leg just fine. Damn.
"You all leave before we finish every day or what? I saw that all of your buddies were already gone."
"Hm? No reason for any of us to stick around once the big bosses leave for the day. They're the ones we want seeing us make a fuss, not you scabs or the supervisors."
Ichigo was not clear on specifics but he supposed that made sense. "But you're willing to wait around after just to let me hit you a few times. I didn't take you for such a generous person." His limbs were so heavy at the joints that he worried they would topple right off as he shifted his weight to relieve some of the ache settling in.
Grimmjow smirked widely and opened his mouth - no doubt for a smart retort back - before pausing and raking his eyes up and down Ichigo in consideration for a long, thoughtful moment. He eventually frowned before clicking his tongue in disapproval. "You're beat to hell from working down there today," he concluded. "Body's not used to it yet so you're worn out already."
"I can still-"
"The fuck you can." Grimmjow scoffed with clear incredulity. "Would be like fighting an asshole with a broken arm. No damn sport in that and it ain't worth anything when I win. We'll have to reschedule for another day." He was moving as he spoke, retrieving an empty crate from the side wall and planting it closer to the middle of the structure before flopping down on top of it like a seat.
He already had a cigarette in his mouth in the three seconds that Ichigo took to sit on the ground before glancing back up. He was already filthy so the ground wasn't going to make much difference, and he was too worn out to go stalking around to find another crate if there was one. Loathe as he was to admit it, Grimmjow wasn't wrong. The man probably would have been throwing Ichigo around like a rag doll within the course of a few minutes.
Grimmjow sighed around his cigarette, appearing particularly disheartened. "Can't fuckin' believe I didn't think of that beforehand. Now what am I going to do today? Thought I was going to spend my evening beating on you, Ku-ro-sa-ki." Each syllable was obnoxiously exaggerated in a sing-song tone.
"Don't say it like that," Ichigo ordered irritably.
"Why not? Told you I liked it, didn't I?"
He had to think about what Grimmjow's surname had been (truthfully, he was shocked that he remembered the 'Grimmjow' part; he had no idea why that stuck when he usually forgot even simple names). It had been a long surname, he knew that. And complicated. A pain to say as much as the man himself was a pain to be around. "I can't even say yours."
"Jaegerjaquez," Grimmjow provided with a pleased smirk that showed too many teeth. "You can call me that if you want to. I'll even help you practice it."
Ichigo glared. "I don't know why I would have a reason to learn how to call you anything. You must not have much fun in your life if fighting with me is all you have to look forward to." While Ichigo had intended the comment as an insult, the truth of the matter was that he could relate a little too well. He dully acknowledged that he didn't have anything else to look forward to either.
"Don't be such a mood-killer," Grimmjow reprimanded. "I had a great time beating the shit outta you the first time, of course I was looking forward to doing it again. Listen, I'll give you five days." He held up a hand with his fingers outstretched to illustrate and proceeded to lower them accordingly as he explained. "Tomorrow is your first day off. You'll work the first four days after that next week and I bet by then - after that many days in a row - your body'll be used to it. You'll still have some fight in you afterwards to go a round with me."
"Fine," Ichigo agreed and then mentally kicked himself for doing so too easily. He could have at least pretended to be a little less interested. "We'll fight in five days." He tried to tell himself that he didn't feel any excitement in his gut.
Grimmjow hummed agreeably as he took a drag. "Want a smoke?"
Ichigo had never smoked because even if he had the inclination, he had never had the spare cash lying around to waste that way. "I-"
"That was a joke, Kurosaki. Can tell from looking at you you've never smoked one of these in your life."
"Stop talking like you know anything about me. I have smoked before," he lied.
"Is that right?" He was smirking again. "Sure you can handle it? You kinda look like a kid, you know."
"I'm not a kid, I'm seventeen. Almost eighteen!"
"Relax, why're you so fuckin' easy to wind up? Didn't say you were a bad-looking kid."
Ichigo paused at that and turned just in time to catch the way Grimmjow was watching him. He was analyzing Ichigo so seriously and intently that it was almost startling. For what, his reaction? An instant after Ichigo looked back at him, he shifted his gaze away abruptly as if nothing had happened, the very picture of nonchalance. Acting as if he had not said anything strange at all. Ichigo filed the comment away for later examination.
Grimmjow swung his hand out. "Here," he offered, and Ichigo took the cigarette. Their fingers touched as it was passed between them and Ichigo promptly and definitively decided to ignore that it made him feel awkward.
Smoking couldn't possibly be that hard but he really didn't want to look like an idiot... or worse: a kid. "Well how old are you? You don't have room to talk, you barely look older than me," he continued in an attempt to be casual before inhaling and fumbling his way into a coughing fit that lasted until his eyes were watering.
Grimmjow laughed hard enough that Ichigo saw him nearly tip his crate over. "Alright over there?" he asked mockingly when the hacking had settled down. "'Smoked before,' my ass. Knew you were fuckin' lying."
"Shut up!"
The burning in Ichigo's throat finally lessened and Grimmjow finished chuckling. "Why don't you guess, how old I am?"
"I'm not interested enough to guess," Ichigo grumbled. He forced himself to take another drag before handing the cigarette back and only released a few small coughs that he muffled by keeping his mouth closed. Despite the verbal brush off, Grimmjow was grinning when their eyes met and fingers skimmed together again, blatantly entertained as ever.
Ichigo finally settled, after some consideration, on what he was feeling when they made that focused eye contact or touched: nervousness. He was nervous to have Grimmjow look at him that way. Why, though? Sure, Grimmjow was strong and fairly hardy, but Ichigo had never been nervous around someone he had to fight before, no matter how tough they were. What was so different here?
Whatever it was, it had everything to do with the way that Grimmjow's eyes fell on him. They were almost too attentive. Ichigo wondered and - frankly - worried about what it was that they saw.
"Twenty. So give it a few more years and maybe you'll be as good as me," Grimmjow chided.
Ichigo snorted. "Keep telling yourself that."
It was not until Ichigo saw the other man's lips close around the cigarette exactly where his had been that he realized he didn't know whether or not that was strange. Did men share cigarettes? It was a little weird to have their mouths on the same spot. He wasn't sure whether he should have accepted that offer now.
Grimmjow flicked ash onto the ground. "Face looks like hell by the way."
"I didn't hit yours as much so what's your excuse?"
"You're a real smartass," Grimmjow scolded, but he was grinning wryly again.
"My little sisters yelled at me when I came home with my eye this way." Ichigo wasn't sure why he told Grimmjow that, or why they were acting so normal together when their entire series of interactions had been anything but. Maybe it was simply because it felt nice to have someone look forward to seeing him again. Look forward to seeing him again in order to punch him in the face, but hey: Ichigo wasn't in a position to be picky.
Grimmjow hummed in reply. "Hope those sisters're used to patching you up then. They'll be doing it again before you know it."
In the mornings to come, there was an unspoken acknowledgement that took place between them if they caught each other's eye (which seemed to happen more often than it didn't). Grimmjow was annoyingly correct, and Ichigo's body and endurance began to adjust to the new exertion. The five days flew by.
On the fifth morning when Ichigo saw him as he passed by the crowd on his way in, Grimmjow was already wearing one of those grins that was a little too wide and a little too wild to be appropriate for the situation. Ichigo made sure no one saw that it forced him to smile a little too.
The underlying buzz of anticipation carried him through the day. He caught himself awkwardly leaning forward to try to catch a glimpse of the time if someone nearby was pulling out a pocket watch. While the final hours felt as though they dragged, he had a renewed burst of energy as soon as he heard the signal for shift end and had to force himself to slow his stride.
Grimmjow was already relaxing on his crate of a seat and smoking when Ichigo opened the door to their meeting spot shortly thereafter. "Finally up for that rematch? Been waiting for you."
"Put your smoke out and I won't keep you waiting longer."
Obliging and stubbing it out on the floor, Grimmjow cracked his knuckles and sauntered closer. No other words needed to be exchanged when they had both been eagerly awaiting this moment for nearly a week; it was straight to action. They eyed each other for a moment when they were within arm's reach, feeling the situation out and taking stances.
Grimmjow finally took the final step forward and swung first.
Ten minutes later, Ichigo was riding high on the satisfaction of landing a few very clean body shots that had earned pained grunts. Riding a little too high, as it turned out, because he apparently let his guard down and did not even realize that Grimmjow had swept his leg out from under him until he was already falling.
Ichigo was probably getting another lecture from his sisters no matter what (because there was no way he was avoiding a whole lot of bruises) but having them on the face would make it even worse, so he threw his arms up to protect it from blows when Grimmjow dove on top of him. Grimmjow grabbed a wrist in each hand and yanked them away, and Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for impact when-
It took an embarrassingly long time to register that warm hands were suddenly holding his face instead of pummeling it and that there was a mouth pressed against his own. Ichigo's brain seemed to stagger to a standstill as his eyes opened.
He wouldn't have been able to justify it afterwards, why he opened his mouth, but Grimmjow certainly did not stop to ask for an explanation. He dove in with his tongue with all the enthusiasm of a tide striking a beach, and Ichigo-
Didn't know how to react. He kept his hands planted palm-down against the floor and stared at Grimmjow's closed eyes awkwardly. But then he was mimicking Grimmjow a little more as far as the way he moved his lips and angled his head, and it felt-
What the hell was Ichigo doing?
When they parted several minutes later, Grimmjow placed his lips next to Ichigo's ear. "Good fight, Kurosaki."