Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Going Home. ❯ One-Shot

GENERAL DISCLAIMER :The author holds no license of, nor makes claims to any of the characters, concepts, or stories all fiction works in this journal originated from in any way. The characters are used without permission of the original creators for the sake of entertainment only. No profit is gained from the writing found hereafter, nor any personal credit taken for the character designs, personalities, or concepts stemming from the original stories used. Characters used under this label are property of their respective creators and no copyright infringement is intended.

All situations depicted in the following fanfiction, unless otherwise stated, have no bearing on the creators' original works, and are solely the creation of the author based on personal interpretation of the mentioned works or are parodies exempted from copyright laws. It is the responsibility of the reader to observe all warnings before proceeding to the fiction works in this journal, as they may contain any number of situations, themes, ideas, views, or lifestyles not suitable for those under the age of 18 or which may be contrary or offensive to the beliefs of some. In the event that the following is the author's original work, or contains an original character, the author holds the copyright and should be contacted before either is used or distributed in any way.

 

ADDITIONAL DISCLAIMER : I do not own BLEACH.

 

 

 

Universe Title :N/A.
Story Title : Going Home (1/1).
Chapter Title : N/A.
Chapter Rating : R15+.
Main Character(s) : Abarai Renji, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, Kuchiki Byakuya.
Genre(s) : AU, Angst, Drama, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Romance.
Summary : Sometimes the place you belong isn't where you always expect.
Warning(s) : M/F, M/M, Swearing, Violence (Mild).
Word Count : +/- 6656.
Author's Note(s) : This fic is meant to be read in backwards chronological order, which means the first scene is actually what happened last, and everything else are the events leading up to it.

 

 

Going Home.

Renji flopped down onto the bench in Karakura Koukou's grounds, pulling the white cloth - soaked through with perspiration - from around his forehead in one fierce tug. "Hey, y'know what?" The drenched fabric was casually draped over his left shoulder. "When I was about ten, I had a dream."

Byakuya lowered himself to the wooden seat in a less undignified fashion as his companion. "Is that so?"

The exhausted teen stretched his lean body, arms folding behind his head while he tilted his chin upwards to gaze at the late evening sky. His long legs began swaying back and forth, sneakered toes scuffing against the hard cement. "Well, it was more like a plan, really. I was gonna be this kick-ass tennis player, right? I told myself that when I got to high school, I'd become a Regular and eventually, Buchou. Maybe even go pro one day. I had it all worked out; only..." The swaying stopped and Renji sat upright, scratching his right cheek absently. "Only I was gonna do it all for Karakura." His hands came up to gesture at their surroundings. "This school." His flaming red head cocked in the direction they'd just come from. "Those courts. They were my home." Renji slumped back against the cool surface, tugging at the ends of his high ponytail. "Just seeing where I am now - it's kinda... unbelievable."

Byakuya's visage was stoically bland as always, but Renji knew him well enough to read the thoughtfulness in his slate grey eyes. "Life doesn't always turn out how you think it should. Maybe your real home is somewhere else... with someone else."

A placid smile gradually wove its way across Renji's sweat-glistened countenance. "Maybe it is."

Byakuya placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, studying his every expression. "Renji, are you still happy?"

That smile blossomed into a full-fledged grin. "Of course!"

"Good. That's all that really matters."

A new voice called out, effectively disrupting the moment. "Renji-kuuuunnn!!!"

The elated young man turned to see Nelliel standing with the Las Noches players, waving enthusiastically at him. "Hurry up and get your ass over here! It's celebration time!!!"

Renji stood and offered a quick bow to Byakuya. "Gotta run. Later, Kuchiki-san!" He headed towards his team, but his companion's deep voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Renji."

The tattooed athlete faced his comrade, tilting his head inquiringly. "Hmm?"

He was graced by one of Byakuya's very rarely given - but sincere - smiles. "Congratulations on making it to Nationals."

--

"Game and match! Las Noches, Abarai! Six games to four!"

The thunderous roar of the crowd was deafening, but the violent rushing of blood in his ears even more so; effectively muting the former to near non-existence. Ikkaku gaped dumbly at his erstwhile teammate - subordinate - decked out in the signature black-collared, black-hemmed, white polo shirt and black-striped white shorts of his greatest archrivals' (on and off court) squad, grinning back at him smugly.

The bald man felt his blood boil, the vein in his temple throbbed dangerously.

Renji slung his racket - red-framed, like his hair - over his right shoulder. The blazing sun rays lighted his crimson mane, making it appear as if it were on fire. He brushed a few stray tendrils (which had come loose from his ever-present, spiky ponytail during the course of the match) from his face. "I told you, I absolutely wasn't gonna lose this one, Ikkaku-san."

A low, predatory growl rumbled from Ikkaku's parched throat. Rivulets of sweat ran from his hairless head down his face, dripping from his tapered nose and narrow chin. He bit the inside of his cheek so hard, he tasted blood and his grip tightened joint-achingly around the handle of his racket.

All around him, the chants of "Las Noches! Las Noches! Las Noches!" reverberated unceasingly and mockingly.

"Fuck."

--

It was hard to ignore the clamor that rose from the direction of the open space near the drinking fountains in Karakura-chou Koutougakkou.

Unusually curious, Byakuya made his way through the crowd to see what held everyone's attention.

In the middle of the yard were Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez and Abarai Renji - hitting a tennis ball back and forth in a seemingly endless rally, with barely three feet between them.

The praises came from supporters and opposition alike.

"Impressive, isn't it? With just that little space!"

"As expected from Las Noches!"

Byakuya focused on Renji's form, noting the fire in his narrowed, auburn eyes and the grimly determined set of his jaw. He's good... but he could get so much better. This is only the start.

As if on cue, Renji caught sight of Byakuya staring at him. The dynamic redhead handed his racket to a slim, blond teen close by. "Lindocruz-kun. Take over for me, will you?"

Not waiting for a reply, Renji jogged over to where Byakuya was standing, eyes shining happily. "Kuchiki-san!"

Byakuya got straight to the point. "Are you prepared?"

Renji grinned confidently. "Of course! Will you come see me play?"

Seireitei Gakuen's leader offered a small smile. "If we're done on time. I hear Rukongai's new training program was specifically designed to produce faster players. Supposedly, there is no serve they can't return."

Renji rolled his eyes heavenward. "I don't think speed's enough to beat you, Kuchiki-san."

"No, but they can try." The charismatic brunet looked like he was about to say something else, but was cut off by Shihouin-sensei's loud holler.

"Oiiii!!! Registration closes in ten minutes, Byakuya-bou!"

Byakuya smirked mildly. "You heard her. I will try to make it to your match, Renji."

His younger companion laughed. "Kick their asses, Kuchiki-san!" He was about to head back to Grimmjow, when Byakuya's august voice momentarily halted him.

"Renji."

The exuberant male turned. "Yeah?"

"See that you win."

Renji saluted. "Yes, sir!"

Byakuya politely inclined his head to Grimmjow - who returned the gesture - before catching up with his team.

--

"You're late!"

Nelliel clung possessively to Nnoitra's left arm, grinning very unrepentantly. She waved her hand in what was meant to look like an apologetic gesture. "Sorry, sorry. The line at Starbucks was ridiculously long, Grimm-chan." She saw her half-brother - younger by a year - frown at that nickname, which only made her grin wider. The curvaceous woman released her hold on her boyfriend, crossing her arms over the front of her form-fitting, lime-green t-shirt and pouting petulantly. "And Nnoitra had to go back cos they gave him mocha instead of macchiato."

Nnoitra emitted a vicious snarl. "Shut it, woman!" The freakishly tall sportsman took a huge gulp from the styrofoam cup in his hand and proceeded to grumble around its mouth. "Ain't my fuckin' fault we were delayed."

Beside him, Orihime offered Grimmjow a placating smile, punctuated by a nervous giggle. "We're sorry for making all of you wait, Grimmjow-senpai."

Ulquiorra gently squeezed his timid girlfriend's hand, regarding his teammate with his signature blank look. "It doesn't matter anyway. There's a whole hour left till registration closes, Buchou."

Grimmjow sighed. "I know."

The spiky-haired male was still frowning, but Nel knew he wasn't exactly mad. She stepped forward and playfully tousled his sky blue locks. "Now, now, don't get so angry, Grimm-chan. It'll give you migraines."

"Aneki!"

The easygoing female laughed, tossing her lustrous, blue-green mane over her shoulder. It really was too much fun riling Grimmjow up. He was too serious - always living and breathing tennis. Nelliel saw it as her duty to make her little brother lighten up a bit - even if it meant embarrassing him in front of his friends. Her inner sadist quite thoroughly enjoyed it, too.

The Las Noches Regulars didn't even attempt to hide their chuckles.

Even the ever-serious Coyote Starrk snickered. "You should listen to your sister, Buchou."

Grimmjow shot him a look that read, Go die in a fucking fire. The blunt, short-tempered male scowled darkly. "Shut the fuck up."

The Regulars - all knowing their leader well enough to read his moods by now - burst out laughing uproariously.

It was hard for Grimmjow to suppress the smile from crawling across his tanned visage.

Nelliel was laughing too - until she noticed the one member of their raucous party who wasn't. She placed a hand gently on the quiet - and seemingly distracted - redhead's arm; her perceptive, hazel eyes softening in concern. "Is something wrong, Renji-kun?"

Renji blinked - momentarily startled - before his lips pulled back into a huge grin. "Not a thing!"

Nel patted his arm firmly. "Good." The alacritous woman took a step back and raised her fist in the air. "Las Noches...!!!"

"Victory!!!"

"Las Noches...!!!"

"Victory!!!"

"Las Noches...!!!"

"VICTORY!!!"

Rowdy cheers and whistles filled the air - not only from the Regulars, but also from some of the two hundred tennis club members and students who had come out to support them. The guys began to head into the Karakura school grounds, but Nel noticed Grimmjow stop Renji, placing a hand on his wrist.

"Babe, wait." Grimmjow's eyes traveled to his lover's right shoe - indicating the lace which had come undone.

Renji crouched down to rectify that.

When he'd finished retying the lace, Grimmjow helped him up and held out his tennis jacket - pure white, with a black stripe running down the middle of each sleeve, and the words LAS NOCHES printed across the back. "Ready?"

Renji smiled, accepting the outfit and pulling it on. He zipped it up all the way to the top. "Yeah. Let's go."

Nelliel - watching her brother lovingly wrap his arm around his sweetheart's waist - allowed herself a little, knowing smile of her own and, grabbing her lanky boyfriend by the hand, followed the rest of her comrades up the steps to Karakura Koukou.

--

"I heard you transfered to Las Noches."

Renji slurped his grande orange frappucino noisily, frowning when he realized it was nearly all gone. It was a twenty-minute walk from Starbucks to the street tennis courts, but the tall, energetic redhead didn't mind. He was in no hurry. He stole a glance at his ebony-haired companion and offered a muffled "Mm" around the dark green, wide straw that refused to leave his mouth.

Byakuya's expression remained as dispassionate as ever, although his tone was anything but. "Why?"

Renji finally parted from his precious drink - having already drained all of its contents - and shot the stolid male an Isn't it obvious? look, punctuated by an incredulously raised, tattooed eyebrow. "To beat Ikkaku-san, of course." He threw his empty cup into one of the blue receptacles situated along the sidewalk - the kind that said, "Plastic Items Only".

Byakuya stopped walking and stepped in front of Renji, directly in his path. His gunmetal-grey eyes were flashing in stern warning. "If you're doing this for revenge, I'd advise you to stop right now."

Refusing to be intimidated, Renji matched his friend's gaze; resolution written all over his angular countenance. "It's not revenge. I want to win."

Byakuya cooly regarded his younger comrade for all of five seconds, before turning and resuming his trek towards their intended destination, readjusting the strap of his black tennis bag on his right shoulder. "You need to work on your backspin."

A grin slowly worked its way across Renji's face and - understanding everything that was implied in that succinct sentence - hurried after the aristocratic tennis prodigy.

--

Sousuke rhythmically tapped his pen against the lineup sheet on his rosewood desk, observing his pupil carefully. "Is this really okay? Giving up your place?"

Grimmjow stood with his hands buried into the pockets of his white sweatpants, posture laid-back. "It's fine. It was my decision."

The tapping ceased and Sousuke leaned back in his plush, leather desk chair. "But it's such a waste. We could use your skills, y'know."

Grimmjow's shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug. "It's only temporary. I'll resume my position in the National Tournament."

Sousuke returned his attention to the newly-formed lineup, frowning contemplatively. Singles One - Abarai Renji. Singles Two - Ichimaru Gin. Singles Three - Coyote Starrk. Doubles One - Szayel Aporro and Yylfordt Granz. Doubles Two - Nnoitra Gilga and Ulquiorra Cifer. Grimmjow wasn't going to play. "Hmm..."

His young subordinate must have misinterpreted his reaction as disapproval. When Grimmjow next spoke, there was a slight defensive edge to his tone. "Kantoku, Renji can do it. He deserves this shot."

Sousuke chuckled, amusement lighting his chocolate eyes. "It isn't Abarai's abilities that have me concerned, Jaegerjaquez-kun." His gaze locked on Grimmjow's own, expression turning serious. "I know how much this means to you." The brunet lifted the piece of paper from his desk, waving it indicatively. "I'm just trying to make sure you know what you're doing."

Grimmjow visibly relaxed. "It does mean a lot to me. Only, Renji means even more." The younger male combed his fingers through his light blue hair. "But it's not just about Renji. I have faith in my team. I believe in them - in their abilities, in their power." His posture straightened, his azure irises blazed like electric fire. "They're strong."

--

"Hey, didja hear? Las Noches got themselves a new player."

Kensei paused midway through his seated hamstring stretches, looking up in surprise at his manically grinning teammate. "At this point in the season? Who'd they get?"

Shinji reached skyward with interlaced fingers before bending sideways. "Kurosaki's partner, Abarai."

Kensei's pierced, left eyebrow lifted in apparent interest. "Ah... because of that incident one month ago?"

His lean-muscled, blond Doubles partner straightened, upper lip curling ever so slightly. "S'pose so. Anyway, I wonder who he's gonna replace. Doubt any one of 'em's gonna be willing to give up their spot as Regulars."

Kensei nodded his agreement. "Guess they'll just make him a benchwarmer." The tall, silver-haired man turned his attention to Seireitei's team leader. "What d'ya think, Buchou?"

Byakuya did not respond, merely continued watching Kaien and Toushirou's match in thoughtful silence.

--

Just another month and a half, huh? Grimmjow stepped out of the shower, reaching for a towel and wrapping it around his waist. To the tournament. He grabbed another off the shelf and exited the steamy bathroom, toweling his hair in the process.

The tennis prodigy found his boyfriend seated on the edge of their bed - crimson head bowed, broad shoulders hunched, sinewy forearms resting on his thighs. His usually optimistic countenance had sadness and frustration written all over it, his always energetic frame was now the very portrait of dejection. The younger male was also staring hard at the slim, black SoftBank cellphone in his right hand as if he were mentally willing it to ring... or trying to burn a hole through it.

Grimmjow was pretty sure he could guess what was wrong, but decided to ask anyway. "What's wrong, Ren-chan?"

Renji's head snapped up, very quickly plastering a smile on his face which quite clearly didn't meet his eyes. "Nothing."

Grimmjow ceased drying his damp mane, letting the fluffy, white towel drape across his well-built shoulders. He crossed the room and unceremoniously plopped himself down beside his troubled lover, not caring that he was getting the bed wet. He said nothing; knowing that the silence between them wouldn't last long.

Renji sighed. "Rukia and I have drifted apart."

Grimmjow placed his palms on the forest green sheets and leaned back slightly, tilting his head towards the ceiling. Kurosaki's girl, huh? He'd seen her around a bunch of times and had been officially introduced once, when Renji and Byakuya were engaging in one of their regular practice sessions at the street tennis courts.

Rukia bore the same dark hair and pale skin as her older brother, but the similarities stopped there. She was a little spitfire who glared at Grimmjow all evening and not quite so subtly asked Renji if he had - in her own words - "taken too many tennis balls to the head" because he had to have a bunch of screws loose for dating someone like Grimmjow.

It was evident that there was no love lost between them. Still, Grimmjow didn't begrudge Rukia her blatant disapproval - if he did, he'd have to accord the same treatment to the others, too; and that would be way more trouble than it was worth.

Besides, the petite firebrand was someone Renji cared for a great deal.

Grimmjow tore his gaze from the ceiling and cast a sidelong glance at his boyfriend. "She loves Ichigo a lot, doesn't she?" He knew it hurt, but he needed Renji to understand everything he was saying by omission. "Ren, it's her choice."

Renji pressed the heel of his palm into his left eye socket, groaning miserably. "I know that!" He tossed the cellphone on the bed before letting himself fall backwards, solid back colliding with the thin, cotton fabric. A forlorn sigh escaped his lips. "I just thought that of all people, she would - that Ichigo would - understand."

Grimmjow shifted, leaning over Renji and brushing a few stray, cherry-colored strands from his lover's face. He tenderly kissed those moist, pliant lips before grabbing Renji's hand and pulling him back upright. Grimmjow wrapped his arms around his significant other, drawing him close, hand dancing comfortingly in up and down motions along his spine. The protective man pressed another kiss to his sweetheart's temple. "I'm sorry, babe."

Renji curled tighter into the reassuring embrace, burying his face into Grimmjow's neck. "'s not your fault."

Grimmjow didn't answer, a million thoughts racing through his mind at once. Amongst the frenetic, stampeding onslaught, one in particular kept clawing its way to the forefront of his brain. The muscular male gently separated his lover from his person and looked him deep in the eyes, expression deadly serious. When he next spoke, his voice was laced with stern decisiveness. "Ren, Singles One." His sky blue eyes were lit with burning intensity. "I want you to take my place."

--

Renji stood alone in the locker room, staring blankly at the empty, wooden shelf before him. His right hand remained immobile by his side, anchored by an invisible load. Dangling from his fingers was his tennis jacket, its cotton fabric feeling strangely alien within his grasp.

Renji had no idea how long he'd been standing there; rooted to one spot in the unoccupied room. The dark cloth felt ridiculously heavy, as if someone had stitched lead into its lining. His arm ached - and yet, he could not bring himself to loosen his grip. The careworn teen wondered briefly if he would hear its loud thud - feel the floor shatter beneath his feet - should he allow his possession to fall to the ground.

His heart felt burdened, too; as if his insides were laden with memories which had - not so very long ago - been the reasons he felt life was worth living, and the reasons he didn't have to be alone.

Only, they now felt like lies - an elaborately-woven tapestry of bullshit dreams and painstakingly faked camaraderie.

And god fucking damn it, it hurt.

Renji ground his back molars furiously, long fingers tightening around the cursed outfit in his hand. What was I?!? He felt hot tears of frustration seeping from his lachrymal ducts, cruelly stinging the corners of his eyes, and he angrily passed the back of his left hand over them, scrubbing violently. His jaw throbbed agonizingly from clenching it so hard, but he couldn't find it in himself to ease up. What the fuck was I to them?!?

His entire body burned from the mordacious weight of betrayal. His wounds had hurt - they still did - but the physical pain was nothing compared to the mental and emotional ones. His mind swirled with the same annoying questions he'd asked over and over again, ever since that incident had taken place; and he still came up with zilch.

The Karakura Regulars. They were invincible. They had dreams which they believed in and stubbornly held on to no matter how many times they were beaten down for it. Together they were gonna conquer the world, one match at a time.

But more than that, they were best friends. Brothers. Unwavering support, unbreakable bonds, trust. Those were supposed to be the unspoken laws they lived by. Their code of conduct. Of honor.

Renji had always been alone. But in them he'd found his family. So how the fuck had it come to this?

The tormented athlete's eyes traveled downwards, locking onto the jacket in his hand. He stared at the garment - jet-black with a single white stripe across the middle, KARAKURA adorned its back in white - while a whirlwind of emotions raced through him; making his head hurt like someone was driving a mastodonic nail mercilessly through his skull. Cold beads of perspiration dotted the tribal markings that decorated his tanned forehead, his breaths came out short and fast, and his body began to grow numb. His vision blurred, melding everything together into a muddle of indistinguishable color and unidentifiable shape. A falling sensation hit him, and there was nothing pleasant about it. Renji felt panic course through him - speedily, harshly - like he'd been picked up and flung from a skyscraper towards hard asphalt.

He needed something to hold on to, needed air, needed to breathe right. fucking. now.

And amidst the bone-chilling fear and desperation, Grimmjow's face flashed through his mind. "It's okay, babe. I've got you."

He felt his lover's strong arms wrap around him, holding him steady. "I'm right here."

One by one, the faces of the Las Noches Regulars filled his vision, dissipating the fog that he was drowning and suffocating under.

Renji could see them, hear their voices - their promises - as clear as he did that day in the hospital, as long as he'd known them.

And he remembered.

Nnoitra's gruff - often insulting - but weirdly protective nature. "You're the one who's badly injured. And the ones who put you here are those damn Karakura fuckers. Don't go takin' the blame for something you ain't done, stupid kid."

Yylfordt's support. "By the way, you're gonna need to get registered as soon as possible, Abarai-kun - as a Las Noches student."

Szayel's advice. "The key to becoming a formidable pair is absolute trust. If you and your partner don't trust each other, you can't pull off even the most basic formations. Will alone is not enough."

Tesra's enthusiasm. "We're both first years, so we'll probably have the same classes. I'll help you out, Abarai-kun."

Gin's teases. "Ne, A-ba-rai-kun. You really like Grimmjow, don't you?"

Starrk's reassurance. "Don't worry. We'll protect you."

Ulquiorra's straightforwardness. "Because you're our comrade."

And Grimmjow.

His eyes, his voice, his touch, his love. His everything.

Gradually, the panic ceased. The haze receded, and in its place was uncompromising clarity. Renji felt the unbearable weight disappear and he took a deep, steadying breath before exhaling in relief. Everyone, thank you.

Lifting his arm, he folded the jacket so that the kanji for his name stitched into the lining was displayed. Renji placed his garment on the wooden shelf and left the room without looking back.

--

"Here."

Ulquiorra tore his gaze away from the only two occupants in the hospital ward and turned to face his companion.

Nnoitra - one half of the formidable Oni Combi, as they had come to be known - was holding out a styrofoam cup of piping hot coffee and wearing a tired grin on his thin face. He looked tensed, but - thanks to his monstrous strength and ridiculous height advantage - had come out of the fight relatively unscathed.

Lucky bastard. Ulquiorra took the offered drink, nodding curtly. "Thanks." The slender, emerald-eyed male resumed watching his old friend from his position in the open doorway.

Grimmjow was seated by Renji's bedside, speaking quietly. His body concealed his lover from view, so Ulquiorra couldn't tell if the redhead was conscious or not.

Nnoitra leaned his lanky form against the other side of the doorframe, arms crossing over his chest. "Is he gonna be alright?"

Ulquiorra took a long sip of his coffee; the dark, bitter liquid scalding his tongue and burning his throat. He didn't bother to clarify who his Doubles partner was referring to - it didn't seem relevant either way. "Who knows?"

Nnoitra exhaled in a huff. "But it was really unfair, too. Seven against one."

Ulquiorra looked at his comrade in surprise, one of his thick eyebrows arched inquiringly. "That's rare - coming from you."

The older, long-haired male snorted derisively. "If it were me, ten would have been a piece of cake." He cocked his head in Renji's direction. "Kid isn't strong enough."

A very faint ghost of a smile played on Ulquiorra's lips. "Careful. Buchou might hear you."

Nnoitra only smirked defiantly. "I'm right, though."

Unable to argue that fact, Ulquiorra took another gulp of his beverage and promptly frowned. "This coffee tastes like shit, by the way."

Nnoitra scoffed. "Of course it does. This is a fucking hospital." The foul-mouthed man made a face. "It was either that or soup, Fukubuchou."

The pair lapsed into a brief, somber silence - one Nnoitra broke shortly. "Once he recovers, what do you think he'll do?"

Ulquiorra lifted his bony shoulders in a shrug. "I don't know." He gingerly rubbed his bruised jaw, frown deepening. "But he won't be playing for Karakura again."

--

Grimmjow's left arm rose and fell with unrestrained force, knuckles aimed for Kurosaki's face. He was gonna break his nose, shatter his jaw, tear the bastard's face apart, and grind his bones to dust - just like he'd done with that Madarame fucker - but his fist failed to make contact.

A firm hand had made its way under his arm, abruptly halting the much desired assault. And then came Aizen's strict, authoritative baritone. "Stop it, Grimmjow."

The teen growled, trying to rid himself of Aizen's iron grip. His anger roiled. Gut-clenching. Savage. Murderous. "Let me go, Kantoku. I'm not done - "

He was forcefully hauled up instead. "You are now." Aizen pulled his student away from the Kurosaki boy, away from the melee. Coffee-brown eyes pierced azure ones - warningly, commandingly. "That's enough." The well-respected - albeit unforgiving - brunet released his hold, his tone softening. "Abarai-kun needs you now."

Grimmjow's eyes widened, his senses returning to him. He ran over to where Renji was seated; leaning against a tree - although he looked like he was scarcely able to hold himself up. Grimmjow crouched down in front of his lover and - for the first time in his life - felt real fear hit him square in the gut.

There was blood everywhere - all over his narrow face, running down his tattooed neck, staining his clothes; soaking into the crisp, white shirt and grey pants that were his uniform, dyeing them a sickening crimson. Renji's left eye was already swelling shut, a steady stream of tears were leaking from the corners of both his reddish-brown orbs, beyond his control.

Grimmjow could tell his lover was trying very hard not to cry - to cease crying - and to not reveal how much he was hurting. He tentatively touched his boyfriend's face; so desperate to alleviate the pain, so desperate to reassure Renji... and himself. "Baby, it's okay. It's gonna be okay. I'm right here."

And through all that, Renji smiled, teeth stained with blood. "Gri..."

Grimmjow almost broke right then. It was as if someone had stabbed him in the chest - deliberately missing the vital points - and was now twisting the blade excruciatingly slowly, sadistically.

The adroit athlete felt a very unpleasant chill run down his spine. I can't lose him! Please, please, please don't...He scooped Renji up in his arms - as gently and carefully as he could - and took off in the direction of the parking lot. "Baby, it's gonna be okay. You're gonna be alright."

Gin abruptly materialized by his side. "We have to get him to the hospital! I think his ribs might be broken."

Grimmjow sped up; his heart seemed determined to outrace his legs. "What the fuck do you think I'm doing?!?" The guilt came as soon as those words left his mouth, but Grimmjow couldn't help it. He was afraid - no, he was terrified - and livid and frustrated all at once. He knew his silver-haired friend was being concerned, but he couldn't stop to think, to speak, to do anything but get the fuck to the emergency room because who knew how long those bastards had been beating Renji before they'd arrived, and who knew how much damage was done, and what if there was internal bleeding, and fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck -

Gin's hand on his shoulder ceased the mental tirade and it was then that Grimmjow noticed the two EMTs headed in their direction. Someone - probably Aizen - must have called the paramedics.

The medical specialists made to help Renji onto the stretcher, but he instinctively curled closer into his lover's chest.

Grimmjow's grip tightened protectively; somehow reluctant to relinquish his hold, even though he knew that he should. "It's okay, babe. I've got you. I've got you."

Gin - noticing the problem - stepped forward and held out his arms. "Grimmjow."

The panicked male hesitated, but allowed his teammate to take over. He watched when Gin got Renji's barely conscious form onto the stretcher and the medics stabilized him before they took him away.

Grimmjow rode along in the ambulance, stroking Renji's hair and valiantly fighting back the urge to just cry or scream or break something - like the Karakura Regulars' arms. "It's okay, baby. I'm here. I've got you, I've got you. You'll be okay, Ren-chan. Everything will be alright."

He kept repeating those words - over and over like a mantra - while praying desperately that they were true.

--

"Are you alright, Abarai-kun?"

It was a stupid question, but Renji tried to speak, choked on his own blood - nearly coughing up a lung in the process - and finally managed a broken, strangled, "Yeah."

He most certainly was not alright, but Gin - knowing the kid and his stubborn, prideful streak - didn't expect a different answer. Sky blue eyes traveled rapidly over Renji's bruised and bloodied form, assessing the damage. Most of it seemed to center around the young man's face - his mouth and nose were bleeding something awful. But it was the cut on his head that made Gin frown - just a scratch, relatively deep but not life-threatening, that just wouldn't stop bleeding.

Head wounds were a bitch like that.

Gin's first priority had been to get Renji away from the fray. It probably wasn't the wisest choice to just move him like that, but he didn't see another option. The silver-haired man noted the way Renji's arms were folded around his waist, the way he curled into himself in some kind of defensive gesture. Probably bruised his ribs... or worse, broke 'em.

The burning wave of anger came swift and hard, washing over Gin like a tempestuous tsunami. He brushed some dirt from Renji's face and assumed his signature fox-like smile, but there was no warmth or mirth in it. "Abarai-kun. Will you be okay by yourself for a moment?"

Renji nodded slowly and promptly winced.

Gin's rage intensified. Even that hurts? Not losing the smile, he placed a reassuring hand on Renji's shoulder. "Good boy."

Rising to his feet, Gin strode back to where the rest of his comrades were engaged in an all-out brawl with the Karakura Regulars.

He saw Grimmjow pinning Madarame to the ground, beating his face into a bloody pulp, before Kurosaki interfered with a well-placed kick to Grimmjow's side. The blue-haired Buchou fell, but was on his feet in an instant, tackling his spiky-headed assailant.

A few feet away, that sunglass-wearing brute Iba decked Ulquiorra in the jaw, only to be yanked aside and hit by Nnoitra.

Ever faithful to his intimidating Senpai, Tesra was quick to lend his assistance - even though Nnoitra clearly didn't require it.

Starrk was holding his own against the powerhouse Sado Yasutora.

The scarred bastard Hisagi was gaining the upper hand over Yylfordt (whose younger brother Szayel was busy kicking the shit out of one Kira Izuru), and Gin moved to help, but was blocked by his frequent rival Ayasegawa in his path.

The vain little shit had the gall to smirk. "Going somewhere, Ichimaru-kun?"

Gin felt a very familiar tingle of excitement dance along his spine - the kind he often felt when he knew he was going to win. His usually narrowed eyes widened, revealing the rarely-seen blue within them, and his bony fingers flexed by his sides. The tall, acrobatic male cocked his head, murderous intent oozing from every pore in his pale body. Lifting his right hand, he pointed his long, skinny, index finger at his opponent. "I'm gonna enjoy fucking your pretty little face up."

--

His book bag landed with a dull thud against the dry ground.

Renji plopped himself down in a much similar fashion beneath the shelter of the leafy Chinese Hackberry that grew in the yard of Las Noches Koutougakkou.

It was his favorite spot. The tall Celtis sinensis provided enough shade to rest under and a sturdy trunk to rest against. Plus, it was located strategically enough so that Renji had a good view of the tennis courts. The high-spirited male leaned against the rough, grey bark and closed his eyes, waiting for the Las Noches Regulars to show up.

"So you are here, as expected!"

The sound of his Buchou's voice startled Renji and his eyes snapped open.

Standing before him were his team - Ikkaku-san, Yumichika-san, Ichigo, Chado, Hisagi-senpai, Kira, and Iba-san. Each of them looked pretty fucking pissed off.

Renji shot to his feet. "You guys! What are you doing here?"

Ikkaku snarled. "That's our line, traitor!"

A deep frown immediately creased Renji's tattooed brows. "That shit again?" He'd been labeled 'traitor', branded disloyal - by Karakura and Las Noches alike - when word got out that he was living in the same apartment as Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. But everything escalated when his teammates found out that he was in a relationship with who was meant to be their greatest enemy. Even worse was the fact that Renji wasn't seducing Grimmjow for information on Las Noches's strengths and weaknesses - he was dating him because he wanted to, because he was in love with the cocky tennis prodigy.

Over time, Grimmjow's teammates - except Gin who didn't need time cos he'd taken a liking to Renji from the start - had begun to accept him.

His own, however, could not.

He'd been getting flack for his 'betrayal' relentlessly and Renji was beyond sick of it. The broad-shouldered male stepped forward, his fingers curling into his palms tightly. "For fuck's sake, I'm not a traitor! It's not like I'm selling you guys out or anything. Besides, I'm not the only one dating someone from a rival school." A decidedly pointed look was cast at his best friend and partner. "Am I, Ichigo?"

The orange-haired teen glowered venomously. "That's different! Seireitei isn't Las Noches!"

Renji scoffed incredulously, amazed at how fucking delusional Ichigo was, that he'd justify his involvement with Rukia on such a baseless reason. "It's exactly the sa - "

Ikkaku's fist brutally connected with his subordinate's face, effectively cutting off whatever else he was going to say. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!

--

"They will never forgive him for this, y'know."

Grimmjow did not look at Starrk - his light blue eyes were trained intently on his expressive, passionate lover.

Renji was listening attentively while Gin taught him a new smash. The tattooed young man nodded and grinned enthusiastically before they resumed their match against the Granz brothers.

Starrk sighed, passing a calloused hand through his thick, mocha-hued hair. "They won't forgive you, either."

Grimmjow bit his lower lip contemplatively. "I know." His mouth pulled back into a huge smile when he saw Renji whoop and high five Gin after having successfully executed his new move.

I know they won't... but he's worth it.

--

"Aren't you gonna say anything?"

Byakuya blinked - very slowly, as if Renji had just asked what color tastes like in a language he couldn't understand - before taking a long sip of his green tea. He swallowed, then fixed his companion with a decidedly apathetic expression. "It's... unexpected."

Renji's shoulders visibly - predictably - tensed. His bright, expressive eyes narrowed in anger. "That I'm seeing someone from the rival team?"

Byakuya hid his smile behind his porcelain teacup, amused at Renji's defensiveness. "That you're seeing anyone."

Renji - who was busy slathering wasabi onto his piece of maguro sushi - set his chopsticks down and glared. "Thanks a lot. I'm not that bad, y'know?"

Byakuya elegantly placed his cup back onto the wooden table and folded his arms over the front of his dark grey, dress shirt. "I meant, you're just a little young to be in a relationship."

Renji stuffed the wasabi-laden delicacy into his mouth, frowning in displeasure. "I'm Rukia's age. She's dating."

Seireitei's star athlete cocked a slender eyebrow in question. "You wish me to condemn your decision the way I disapprove of Kurosaki Ichigo?"

His hotheaded friend sighed. "It's not that." Renji reached for another piece of sushi before seemingly changing his mind, opting to filch the daikon from Byakuya's plate instead. "It's just... everyone's reactions have been really fucked up, y'know? I mean, the only one who was glad to hear it was Ichimaru-san; and I don't know him all that well."

Byakuya uncrossed his arms and sat up, piercing Renji with a grave stare. "Renji, are you happy?"

The younger male's eyes widened a fraction, as if he were startled by the sudden query. "Of course."

Byakuya leaned back in his seat, satisfied. "Then that's all that really matters, isn't it?"

--

"Y'know what?"

He was doing it again.

Grimmjow remained seated - left leg on the ground and slightly bent, right knee propped up so he could rest his arm on it while absentmindedly twirling a blade of grass between his agile fingers - on the wide expanse of land that made up a beautiful, but often isolated, field not very far from his and Renji's apartment.

His lover was lying next to him - fully stretched out, hands pillowing his head while he stared up at the clear, day sky.

And each time the redhead began a conversation with "Y'know what?", Grimmjow knew that whatever followed would be something completely random.

Renji was kinda cute like that.

The blue-haired tennis expert unconsciously fiddled with the skull and crossbones chain around his neck. "What?"

"The sky is like the ocean; only, y'know, upside down. But the ocean's filled with fish and... stuff." A dreamy look skated across Renji's eyes. His tone and countenance were completely serious, making him appear almost pensive. "There's so much unused space up there." He removed his right hand from under his head, stretching out his arm and splaying his fingers. "I wonder what it's like... to be, y'know, in it."

Grimmjow smiled and - ever the opportunist - got up and straddled his boyfriend, entwining their fingers together.

Renji returned the smile and reached his left hand up to tenderly caress his lover's jaw.

Grimmjow gripped those wandering fingers in his, placing a tiny kiss to the bottom of Renji's palm before leaning his muscular frame forward, so that his face was barely an inch from his lover's. Looking deep into those lively, russet eyes, Grimmjow grinned. "Y'know what?"

"What?"

Grimmjow lowered all the way, and - lips lightly brushing against Renji's own - whispered, "I love you."
 

 

~ The End. ~