A/N: Yo, new story. Tell me what you think.

Grimmjow Jaegerjacques strode down the halls of Ogichi Prison with purpose. And a slight eye twitch. He had been up for 18 hours straight since this operation had started and he was pretty sure it wouldn't be ending anytime soon.

Earlier this evening, he and his illustrious team had arrested a young man by the name of Ichigo Kurosaki. It had gone something like this:

(I am a premature page break. I weigh 6.3 pounds and have my father's eyes.)

Grimmjow glanced around the spacious cathedral, not really paying attention to the beautiful ceremony taking place on the floor below his seat in the rafters. The agent shifted in his dark suit with a blue rose in the lapel. At first this place had seemed too open but now that he looked, there were really lots of places to hide in a place like this. He scanned the perimeter again. Dark shadows, heavy tapestries, rows and rows of pews. Again, Grimmjow scanned the heads of the guests. Of course, there was no bright orange hair. Not like he or his team had expected to find the man so easily, it had been less than a faint hope.

Obviously, if Ichigo Kurosaki showed up to his sister's wedding he would no doubt be disguised. Disguised extremely well.

Not that that would be a problem for the man, according to their files and evident in the fact that Grimmjow's team had been searching for the conman for more than 6 months and had no more leads than a newborn child had teeth. It had become increasingly frustrating as the months had worn on since they had gotten the assignment from CIA headquarters through their divisional boss, Barragan. Not even Ulquiorra, clocking in at about 100 more hours than the rest of the team, the whole time in front of glowing computer screen, had found any more evidence incriminating the young man than a few measly cons from a few years ago.

But word on the street was that this man was more than just a conman. At the very least, it was known that Ichigo Kurosaki was an expert hacker. Graduated from MIT a year earlier than the standard 4, with an innocent degree in Engineering and Architecture, the son of Getsuga Zangetsu, the late 'godfather' of the Japanese Yakuza sect in America. Old man Zangetsu had died 5 months before his daughter's wedding to Yakuza heir Jinta Urahara. Kurosaki's connections with the yakuza were obvious, but still sketchy and vague. Information about any yakuza in America was extremely difficult to access, probably due to Kurosaki himself. Ulquiorra had pointed out that in this manner, Ichigo had similarly wiped out nearly all information about himself, from social security number to high school ID card. And absolutely no information about the man's childhood could be found anywhere.

Grimmjow's team didn't even really have a proper picture of the man. There were blurry security camera shots of a orange-haired man, capped, sunglasses on, coat collar popped up to hide his face. When interviewing old MIT students, little else was discovered about his physical appearance except that he had brown eyes and was extremely handsome.

Besides these unhelpful descriptions and the small con jobs, Grimmjow's team had practically nothing to go on. Grimmjow wasn't even sure why the CIA was interested in Ichigo Kurosaki. The order had been to find him and bring him in, nothing else. It had pissed Grimmjow off. How were they supposed to catch a guy they had no info on? The man was practically a ghost for christ's sake!

And that was where they had been stuck up until a week ago when Grimmjow had gone home after another fruitless day to a large manilla envelope pinned to his door with a small, but beautiful switch knife. The knife had come up clean of fingerprints and discovered to cost borderline $700. Enclosed in the envelope were five intricately embossed wedding invitations, inviting every member of Grimmjow's team to attend the joining of Jinta Urahara and Yuzu Kurosaki in holy matrimony. A separate piece of paper, printed in blunt computer script had read, 'Ichigo Kurosaki will be there. Wear blue roses. Wait for the sign.' There was no name, of course, and the paper was also clean of fingerprints.

And so Agent Grimmjow and his team were attending a American Yakuza wedding. It wasn't as if they had any choice. This had been their only lead in months.

There had been heated discussion as to whether this was a sham of course. Many arguments had burst out in their base of operations throughout the week. Grimmjow had found himself shouting into Barragan's face not 3 inches away more than once. He wanted to get this operation going. He was going crazy just sitting around like a caged pup. They had called him in for this, and he wanted action. NOW. Grimmjow wasn't made for sitting down at a desk and filling out paperwork. It made his skin crawl. Grimmjow Jaegerjacques didn't do that kind of shit. Ever.

Even now, waiting for this 'sign', Grimmjow was antsy. His fingers itched for a cigarette, or to reach for his gun concealed in his tux. He rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve the tension that was built up there. From what, he didn't know. He wasn't sure how he felt about this case. He had hunted down a lot of men in his life. But this was…different. Off. Something wasn't right. Even if they caught this guy, Grimmjow had a feeling he wouldn't get away from this case so easily… something was going on.

Ichigo Kurosaki had officially gone off the radar 7 months ago, 2 months before his father's death. The older man had been in poor health for the past year and the doctors had told the family there wasn't much time. When the order to find and arrest Ichigo Kurosaki had come in and a month later old man Zangetsu had died Grimmjow's team had pinned their hopes on the off chance that Ichigo would attend the funeral. They had been wrong, as far as they could tell, Ichigo had not shown up at the service nor at the cemetery. Or so it seemed.

Grimmjow recognized several familiar faces as he surveyed the wedding guests from the shadows of the choir rafters of the church that he had seen at Getsuga Zangetsu's funeral. There was Byakuya Kuchiki, a Yakuka noble of sorts and his sister, Rukia Kuchiki, standing as a bridesmaid at the front of the church. Jushiro Ukitake and Kyoraku Shunshi were on either side of Shigekuni Yamamoto, a Yakuza boss who had been on par with Zangetsu himself. The deadly, scared Zaraki Kenpachi was leering with what seemed to be a small child on his shoulder. His daughter, Grimmjow remembered. The man never when anywhere without the child, which was odd for a gang leader to keep his family so close all the time. But the man was crazy in any event. But not at crazy as Mayuri Kurotsuchi, the demented Yakuza scientist, who was know for experimenting on even his own daughter. The daughter in question was also standing as a bridesmaid along with Isane Unohana, the daughter of Retsu Unohana, an ally of the Yakuza and daughter of Yamamoto. Kisuke Urahara stood sat in the front pew of his son's wedding, looking plenty ridiculous as he sobbed into his sister-in-law's shoulder. Sui-Fong of the Chinese branch of the Yakuza looked pretty irritated at how Kisuke was acting. Give of course that the man acted like an idiot most of the time, her irritation was understandable. But everyone knew that underneath the playfully childish demeanor Kisuke Urahara was known to be a notoriously ruthless and highly intelligent yakuza commander. Kisuke's wife was no where to be seen.

As Grimmjow scanned the bridesmaids and groomsmen Grimmjow noticed that they were all wearing red roses, whether pinned to their dresses, or in their lapels like Grimmjow was. He knew from attending Zangetsu's funeral the one of the petals in every flower was dyed black out of respect for the deceased Yakuza leader. Most of the wedding guests were wearing them as well.

'So even the dead attend weddings,' thought Grimmjow offhandedly.

Suddenly something caught his eye. The maid of honor, Yuzu's twin sister- Karen Kurosaki, was not wearing a red rose pinned to her soft golden dress, but a blue one.

Grimmjow pulled at his lapel to speak into the microphone concealed under it. "Starrk, do you see her?"

There was a pause and Grimmjow watched form his perch as a brown-haired head shifted in the 5th pew.

"You mean little girl blue?" Starrk's smooth, calm voice came through Grimmjow's ear piece. The man was a goddamn monk when it came to waiting games like this, something Grimmjow envied as he tapped his foot impatiently.

"You mean not so little?" Grimmjow glanced at the exit where personal-pain-in-his-ass Nnoitra was hiding in the shadows. Nnoitra was an excellent agent, with a shooting arm steadier than a fucking surgeon. But sometimes that man was just an asshat.

"You're disgusting." The blue-haired agent's eyes flicked to the very edge of the pews where a mop of black hair turned methodically, surveying the area as he spoke into his lapel. Ulquiorra could double as a desk-drone and field agent, which made him an invaluable member of the team as a portable hacker.

Grimmjow's sensitive ears picked up the haughty tone of the next speaker. "I concur. You're a foul being, Nnoi." Szayel. He wasn't a bad person per-say. He could be annoying as fuck though sometimes, with his ivy-league medical education and constant motormouth. If Ulquiorra was their portable hacker the pink-haired doc was their portable forensics team and medic. He was concealed in behind curtains to the right of the alter. By far, Starrk and Ulquiorra were the least conspicuous, unlike Grimmjow, Nnoitra, and Szayel. Nnoitra with his monstrous height and Grimmjow and Szayel with their cotton candy hair did not blend as well and therefore the other two were integrated into the wedding guests seamlessly while the others watched from afar.

Not that Nnoitra was wrong though. The few pictures of Karen Kurosaki that they had found were of a small, runty, middle-school tomboy. Nothing like this beautiful bombshell of a young woman standing next to her equally attractive sister. Long black hair was piled artistically on her head with a singular thick stray lock trailing down her bare back due to the cut of her luminous golden dress. The blue rose pinned to her dress was starkly different from the red and black bouquet in her hands. Dark, calculating eyes, swept across the crowd, only pausing when they settled back on her sister in her beautifully expensive and lacy dress. Neither sister was terribly tall but Karen was striking in her own way, lips painted a seductive blood red, shoulders creamy and flawless, stance straight and commanding, never fidgeting. A beautiful, powerful, intimidating woman. As a daughter of a Yakuza boss, she probably had a lot more responsibility that the average 19-year old.

"So she's our mysterious benefactor." The soft voice of the team hacker filtered though Grimmjow's ear piece. Grimmjow could practically hear the gears of his team cranking. Why would Karen Kurosaki sell out her own brother? Were family relations not good? The man hadn't shown up to his father's funeral, Grimmjow supposed, but really, they didn't have enough info to make an accurate assumption on interfamilial relationships. Possibly something to do with old man Zangetsu's mysterious will? Grimmjow's team had been unable to access the document, or even find out if it even existed. Thinking of it began to put Grimmjow in a bad mood again, but he shouldered on. Sibling rivalry? Personal vendetta? Money? Power? the list went on and on.

"Looks like the ceremony is over." Starrk's voice shook everyone from their musings as the wedding guests surged upwards, moving either to congratulate the newlyweds or outside to vehicles that would take them to the location of the reception. Grimmjow swiftly turned to begin his decent from the rafters, speaking smartly into his microphone as he took the stairs two by two.

"Follow little girl blue. I'm not going back to that stupid-ass office empty handed. Stay low, and keep your mouths shut. That means you, Szayel." Grimmjow spoke sternly. The last thing they needed was for Szayel to open his trap and call some Yakuza boss an unseemly name and all have yakuza bosses on their respective asses, with the mission rendered impossible.

A small, annoyed 'tsk' carried though Grimmjow's earpiece before the pink-haired doc muttered an affirmation. No one wanted to screw this up now that they finally had a lead.

At the exit of the church, Grimmjow allowed himself to be carried out with the crowd, keeping his eyes forward and not garnering unwanted attention with unforeseen eye contact. Having bright blue hair was bad enough as it was. Sure, there were a lot of unusual characters at this wedding to begin with, but better safe than sorry. Approaching his sleek black convertible, Grimmjow again noted that he had made a good choice considering all the equally sleek, if not much more expensive black cars that seemed to be a staple for any gang, ever.

Starrk was suddenly at his side as he reached the vehicle and the both of them hopped in, allowing small smiles of enjoyment to grace their faces as they exchanged menial comments about the ceremony for the benefit of the guests around them. Out of the corner of his eye, Grimmjow saw a flash of pink disappear into a nearby black car and hoped that Nnoitra wouldn't end up somehow 'accidentally' killing Szayel on the way to the reception. He really couldn't afford to go looking for another medic slash forensic expert of Szayel's caliber. He seriously doubted there was another person like the doctor in the world, really.

As they turned out of the church parking lot, following the train of black cars crowding behind the white newlywed's limousine, Grimmjow rolled his shoulders again. Finally something was happening. He thanked any gods that might exist for this turn of events.

"Grimm." The blue-haired agent turned to look at his lazy looking teammate as the handsome man tilted his head back, relaxing in the warm spring sunshine. Starrk looked almost peaceful in his equally handsome tux, the warm red dress shirt and black vest complimenting his maroon tie. A small glare shot off of the gold wolf pin on his tie.

"Yeah?" Grimmjow turned his eyes back to the road. 10 bucks said Starrk was about to tell him some sage wisdom that would somehow pertainin to the capture of this Ichigo Kurosaki.

"Am I the only on who gets the feeling that this is too goddamn easy?"

'Hm, never mind then.' "No, yer not." Grimmjow replied, not missing a beat. "Shit's way too fuckin' easy."

Grimmjow made a sharp turn, following the expensive black car in front of him before he continued.

"This is only the beginning. This Kurosaki guy is just…the tip of the iceberg. There must be reason his own sister's selling him out, 'specially considering how the old man's hasn't been dead in his grave for even a year."

"And that will."

Grimmjow nodded shortly. "Somethin's up…." Grimmjow trailed off into his own thoughts.

"Ya know, we may never find out why all this shit is happening."

Grimmjow nodded again, this time more slowly. It was true. Their only orders were to find Kurosaki and bring him in. Nothing about an investigation. That would be left to others most likely. Certainly, his team was highly qualified for international search and seize. They were a tracking team. One of the best. But they were seldom told why they were searching for a particular person. They did their job, brought the person in, or in some cases, made sure that the person would never be found again. Ever. But that was it.

Sometimes this pissed Grimmjow off, especially instances like this where there were so many pieces of the damn puzzle missing. But it was his job, and he did it well. Even before Grimmjow had been an agent he always got his man. No matter what.

They pulled up to a very grand looking hotel and Grimmjow tossed the valet his keys carelessly, striding into the hotel entrance with Starrk at his side. In the lobby Grimmjow spotted Nnoitra leering, Szayel silently fuming, and Ulquiorra massaging his temple with a pale hand. Grimmjow rolled his eyes and approached the trio with Starrk.

"If you two can't play nice, I'm never talking you anywhere. Ever. Again." Grimmjow managed to growl out, not looking either of the guilting parties in the eye.

"The freak started it." The lanky darker haired man snarled through his leer. Given what Nnoitra usually wore, namely holey thermal shirts and cut off sweats, the agent looked pretty slick in his fitted suit and vest. Certainly the vest was unbuttoned like the neck of his dress shirt and his tie loosened, but he still looked like a bandanaed stud.

"If you don't shut up, my taser is going to finish it for you." Grimmjow turned to raise an eyebrow at the usually calm Ulquiorra. The hacker also looked extremely nice in his formal tux with a light green dress shirt underneath. Pale as usual, Grimmjow also noted how prominent the dark crescents under those luminous jade eyes had become. He wondered if he had similar circles under his own eyes.

"Lets just go in," snapped an ill-tempered Szayel, who turned on his expensively shod heel and headed for the wide open doors of the reception hall. Grimmjow turned to Starrk, eyebrow still raised. The older agent merely shrugged and started after the purple-shirted doctor. After shooting warning glance at Nnoitra, Grimmjow took his time catching up with Szayel and Starrk.

Turning the corner into the hall Grimmjow almost ran into a young man exiting. Meaning to skirt around him, Grimmjow frowned when they young man grabbed his bicep gentle and the agent found himself looking into very red eyes framed by flowing black hair.

"Excuse me, would you happen to know where Tensa-sama is?" Grimmjow blinked at the voice. It was purring baritone. The man's tanned face was flawless, almost like a girl's, with full lips and a straight nose. Dark eyelashes framed innocent red eyes. Grimmjow assumed that the man was wearing contacts, and the eyelashes seemed heavy, as if he was wearing mascara. Grimmjow's eyes dropped to the man's suit. Dolce & Gabbana, without a doubt. And god, how well the man wore it. A red dress shirt complimented his eyes and a thin black tie completed his classy look. The hand on his bicep lifted and Grimmjow noted its long thin fingers and well-cared for nails. Those red eyes blinked at him, waiting for a reply.

"I'm sorry, no." Grimmjow said fluidly as he took as step back, gesturing for the man to pass and offering a small smile. Speak as little as possible, don't bring attention to yourself.

"Pity. I was hoping to find him before he disappeared." The man's face alit with his own small smile as he gracefully passed by Grimmjow. The man was slightly shorter than Grimmjow and his spicy scent wafted up to meet the blue-haired man. Grimmjow dropped his smile as he assessed his slightly accelerated heartbeat. He couldn't afford to be distracted during a mission. The blue-haired man tore his eyes away from those slightly swaying hips and dark ponytail of silken ebony to raise an eyebrow at the slowly approaching Nnoitra and definitely faster Ulquiorra. Nnoitra's head was craned to watch the red-eyed man's receding figure.

Grimmjow waited at the entryway for Ulqiorra to pass through and reached up to smack the back of Nnoitra's head. Nnoitra turned to half-heartedly shove Grimmjow. "The fuck was that for?"

"How about we keep the blood upstairs, ne? Don't act like a fucking idiot just because you want a nice piece of ass."

Nnoitra shrugged as he entered the hall. "Not my type anyway."

Grimmjow rolled his eyes again. He glanced around the lobby one last time, but the dark haired man was no where to be seen. Shaking his head to rid it of visions of those fake red eyes, Grimmjow stepped into the reception hall. But try as he might he could not shake one thought.

Who the hell was Tensa-sama?

A/N: Continue, yea or nay?