2/11/14 Note: This will be a canonic AU in which the timelines are a bit mixed up and other canon facts are altered. I don't want to give too much away since it's all plot-related and it'll be cleared up in the course of the story (which will take place over a span of 12 years), so for now, if the summary was enough to pique your interest, welcome to the story and I hope you'll enjoy! Please leave a review if you can! Also, rating will change to M in the future, so there's that ;)

I: ARRANCAR

"Oi, come back here, freak!"

He runs as fast as his small feet can carry him, the sounds of hollering from his pursuers following him closely. Slipping into an alleyway, he nearly trips over a trash can but manages to keep on running, lungs burning in his chest and sweat dripping from his forehead.

"Ha, look at him run, what a wimp!"

If they catch him, he'll come home with more than a few bruises this time. Mrs. Fukui will yell at him for starting a fight without listening to his side of the story and Mr. Fukui will definitely send him up to his room without dinner as punishment. His adoptive parents hate it when he causes trouble for them—or at least, that's how they see it.

Ichigo's parents died when he was very young. He barely has any memories left of them, but he knows little bits and pieces from what Mrs. Fukui told him. In one bout of anger, she mentioned that his mother had been pregnant when she died in the car accident. Ichigo often wonders what it would've been like to have a sibling, a younger brother or sister to take care of.

Sometimes he thinks it would've been much better if he'd had an older brother, though. If he had a strong older brother, maybe the other kids in the neighborhood wouldn't bully him as much as they do. They all know he's adopted; that and his bright orange hair have turned him into a target for ridicule.

Legs starting to ache, he takes a turn and finds himself standing in front of a dead-end. The sound of multiple footsteps is nearing closer fast.

"Where did that freak go?"

"Come on, I think he went this way!"

Ichigo is completely out of breath, but a sense of panic propels him to take action. He spots a door on the left side of the dead-end alley, and in desperation he runs to it, praying that it isn't locked.

Luck is on his side as the heavy door opens with a slight creak, and he slips inside, shutting it quickly and looking around. The building he's in is devoid of any furniture. Some of the windows are cracked or missing entirely, while the floorboards look old and dusty. There's no light, but the sunshine from outside illuminates the interior enough for him to make out his surroundings.

Panting and wiping the sweat off his forehead, he distances himself from the door as he hears his bullies run past the dead-end. Clearly it's not safe to go outside quite yet.

Deciding to venture further into the building, he notices there aren't any rooms; just giant, empty spaces. It looks to be an old warehouse of some sort. Taking a deep breath, Ichigo decides to explore. Maybe he can make this a permanent hide-out? It's close to his house, and it would make a nice hiding spot for whenever the other kids go after him again.

The ground floor has nothing of interest to offer him, so he heads to the stairs. The second he goes a step up, a burst of wind howls down, and while anyone else might've attributed it to the lack of windows he can sense there's something different about it.

Ichigo, aside from being adopted and having orange hair, has another quality that separates him from his peers: he can see and talk to ghosts. He's never told anyone else this, because there's no one who would believe him. Some kids already think he's crazy because he talks to the ghosts often, seeing as how no one else wants to talk to him. Most of them are very friendly, though they never stay for long.

He's felt it before, the energy propelling the wind blowing into his face. It's similar to that of the spirits he encounters wandering around the city, but it's so heavy that it's (ironically) making it hard to breathe. There's something about it that has a chill running down his spine, giving him goose bumps all over. A spirit is definitely up there, but it might not be a friendly one.

"Hello?" he calls hesitantly once the breeze subsides, still frozen at the bottom of the stairs. He receives no reply, but the thick energy seems to pull back a bit. He should probably leave, but it's the first time he's felt a presence like this, so he can't help his curiosity.

Taking another step, he pauses cautiously. When nothing happens, he proceeds up the stairs, eyes wide as the look over his surroundings.

It's just as empty as the ground floor. He finds a few empty cardboard boxes in the corner of a small room, and a few long boards of wood and steel pipes, but nothing aside from that. The presence is definitely around here somewhere—maybe further up?

The third floor yields the same results as the second, but the thick energy now feels nearly suffocating. Ichigo takes a moment to control the breaths that are starting to become more and more shallow the harder it gets to breathe, lingering a bit as he tries getting used to the sensation. It's like what he imagines climbing a mountain might feel like, except with the added weight of that energy pressing down on him.

Stubborn in finding out the cause of it, he heads up to the uppermost floor.

This floor has several rooms, unlike the first three. It looks like it used to be an office of some sort, if the remnants of an old desk and the broken pieces of an old chair tell him anything. He walks from room to room, heart beating faster and faster as he knows he's close to finding the spirit.

Walking through a long hallway, he checks all the rooms, until he ends up at the last one on the right. His hand is shaking mildly, the energy radiating from behind the door giving him a mild headache.

He should turn around and leave. Nothing good can be waiting for him behind the old wood, but he can't help himself. He's come this far already, so he might as well go all the way.

Tiny hand on the doorknob, he pushes it open.

The sunlight bursting through the glassless windows here is the brightest, engulfing nearly the entire space in it. Sitting against the wall on the left side, just out of reach of the light and in the comfort of shadows, is a man unlike any Ichigo has ever seen before.

The shock of wild blue hair and odd bone-shaped mask on his jaw are the first things Ichigo notices. His clothes are incredibly strange, his top an open white jacket revealing the muscles lined down his torso and his bottom a white hakama with a black sash.

The man's eyes are initially closed, but when he opens them they shift to Ichigo, who is frozen in the door way. They are even bluer than his hair, with green marks in the corners, half-lidded as short eyebrows pull down into a slight frown above them.

"Um." Ichigo swallows thickly, heartbeat pounding against his ribs as he stares at the man, caught between shock and fear. This is a predator, his instincts scream at him. Run, run now, hurry, down the stairs, and don't look back. "H-hello."

Predator or no, the man is certainly not just any spirit. The ones Ichigo has seen always have a sort of transparency about them, but this one looks completely solid, like Ichigo's hand wouldn't slip through if he reached out to touch him.

During his curious (if nervous) observation, the man's eyes are still fixed on him, and he is unmoving, a breeze from outside swaying the few locks of hair that are hanging down his forehead. Ichigo waits for a reply, and dares not to take his gaze off the man, afraid he might lunge and attack him when he's not looking. He doesn't know where this fear comes from, but it's just there, and he can't ignore it.

"You can see me?" the man says in a low tone, his voice rough and a deep baritone.

Ichigo nods shakily. "Are you… are you some sorta spirit?"

The man turns his head away and closes his eyes, leaning his head back. "Go away, kid."

It is only then that Ichigo notices that one of the man's hands has been holding a spot on his abdomen—there's blood leaking down from his left side, and his arms are covered in minor cuts and bruises and dirt.

Ichigo has never seen a spirit bleed before. Maybe the man is something else entirely?

"Are you injured, mister?" he pushes on bravely. Whatever else the man might be, he's clearly an adult, and Ichigo knows better than to be rude to strangers nearly three times his size. "I can help."

The man cracks one eye open at that, and he looks annoyed. "Didn't you hear me the first time? Piss off." He makes a gesture with his free hand, as if he's trying to swat away mosquito.

"But…" Ichigo purses his lips, frowning deeply. "I can get you water, and… and some bandages."

At this the man focuses his full attention on Ichigo again, eyes now completely open and alert. His gaze is so intense that Ichigo has to break eye-contact, getting fidgety as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

"Why would you wanna help me?"

Ichigo looks up at this, blinking confusedly. "Because you're hurt."

The man narrows his eyes slightly, brows furrowing. "Do you even know what I am, kid?"

"A spirit?"

He snorts, looking away with a shake of his head, muttering something to himself about 'dumbass humans'.

"Alright, if you wanna help, then help."

Ichigo relaxes at that, grinning happily. He likes helping others when he can—it proves Mrs. Fukui wrong every time she calls him 'useless'. He's not useless at all if he can help even one person.

"Okay, I'll be right back! Don't go anywhere!"

He turns around and hurries through the corridor, heading to the stairs and getting down to ground floor. He has enough money on him to buy a bottle of water and some bandages. His adoptive parents rarely buy him things, they just hand him the money and tell him to buy it himself. He's already eight years old so it's not a problem for him, but it's just one of the many things that makes him feel as if he has no family. As if he's all alone.

Buying the items the injured spirit needs takes only a few minutes, and when he returns he's relieved to see that the man hasn't moved, or rather, that he's real and not something his imagination just came up with. He approaches him a bit hesitantly, and though he's getting used to the eerie energy the man puts out, getting closer to him makes him nervous, and he soon returns to lingering near the doorway as soon as he's handed the items over.

He watches the maybe-spirit splash a bit of the water in his face before taking a few big gulps and using the rest of it to clean the dirt and dried blood off himself. Taking his hand off his wound, Ichigo catches a glimpse of it and it makes him cringe—a large cut that looks pretty deep right below his ribs, still bleeding.

"Hey, mister," Ichigo asks quietly, "what did you get that cut from?"

"Who."

"Huh?"

The man starts wrapping the bandage around the cut, tying it around his waist. "Who did I get the cut from, not what." When he's leaning forward as he bandages himself, Ichigo catches a glimpse of something that makes his jaw drop and forget completely about the man's correction.

There's a large hole, in the middle of the man's abs.

"Woah!" Ichigo takes a few steps forward unthinkingly, trying to get a better view of the perfectly round hole that's covered in part by the man's black sash. "Hey, mister, you have a giant hole in your stomach, you know!"

"Hadn't noticed," the man replies wryly, continuing his bandaging and finishing it within a few seconds.

"Doesn't that hurt?"

"No." The man looks at his empty water bottle and scowls. "I need more water."

"Oh." Ichigo takes the few coins he has left out of his pocket, counting them up and frowning when he comes up short. "I don't have enough money, though."

"Tch, useless," the man mutters, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall, closing his eyes as if he's about to take a nap. Ichigo is reminded sharply of yesterday, when Mrs. Fukui accused him of the same thing after he got a C on a math test, locking him up in his room after her tirade.

"I'm not useless!" he snaps, balling his fists. "I got you bandages and everything! Show a little gratitude, stupid old man!"

The man's eyebrows twitch, and his eyes slide open, the predatory look lurking underneath the lazy facade making Ichigo's anger disappear instantly.

"Kid," the spirit says, and suddenly it's hard to breathe and his knees shake with a weight pressing down on him, crushing against his bones. It's as if gravity has shifted, pulling him down to earth, and he nearly falls to his knees. "Just a word of advice; be careful who you talk back to."

The pressure disappears and Ichigo gasps, small body quivering and sweat rolling down the back of his neck. He looks up to the spirit, whose expression is completely even, eyes watching him intently.

"Wh-who… what are you?" Ichigo asks, voice shaky.

"An Arrancar."

"What's that?"

The man's lips twist and a wild grin contorts his features, eyes gleaming madly. "A monster that eats the souls of small children."

Ichigo goes pale, a whimper escaping his throat as he backs away and trips over his own feet. The spirit cackles, the dangerous air around him disappearing. Realizing it was probably a joke, Ichigo grits his teeth and fumes, getting up on his feet.

"That's not funny!"

"Says you," the man scoffs, a lingering grin on his features.

Ichigo crosses his arms and glowers as hard as he can, but the man ignores him, turning his head away and looking out the window instead.

"Hey, old man," Ichigo asks, a question occurring to him. "If you're a spirit, does that mean you died here?" Usually spirits either linger around their graves or the places where they died. Ichigo figures he must've died in the warehouse then.

"No," the spirit replies without looking at him. "I'm not an ordinary spirit, kid."

"Yeah, you're an Arrancar, but what does that mean?"

The not-spirit-spirit doesn't say anything for a while, and Ichigo glances down at his bandages, spotting the blood starting to leak through it.

"Means I ain't supposed to be on earth. I already passed onto the other side."

Ichigo frowns slightly. "So you went to heaven, or something? And then you came back?"

"Wouldn't call it heaven."

"Then what is it?"

The man doesn't reply and Ichigo starts feeling a bit more courageous now. The man is scary, but he doesn't seem to have any intention on hurting him. He takes a few steps into the room, and sits down across from the man, earning a brief glance.

Ichigo stares at him for a moment. "Why's your hair blue?"

"Why's your hair orange?" the spirit counters dryly.

Ichigo pouts. "What's with that mask? Halloween was two weeks ago."

"I super-glued it onto my face and now I can't get it off."

Ichigo almost believes him until the man snickers at his dumbfounded expression. What a jerk.

"How do you eat with that hole in your stomach?" he continues his inquiries, curious about this odd person in front of him.

"I don't eat human food."

"What kinda food do you eat?"

"Souls."

Ichigo rolls his eyes, assuming it is another one of the spirit's lame jokes and shifts on the floor, sitting cross-legged with his hands on his knees. "My name is Ichigo, by the way. Ichigo Kurosaki. What's yours?"

As the spirit gazes at him, Ichigo is strongly reminded of the neighbor's cat that always sleeps on the windowsills. The spirit has the same kind of lazy posture.

He seems to consider Ichigo's question for quite a while, before eventually responding. "Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez."

"Grimm-jow?" Ichigo smirks. "That's funny name."

At this the spirit leans his head back again, eyes aimed up to the ceiling. "Shouldn't you be going back home, kid?"

Ichigo falls quiet at this, his silence noticed by Grimmjow who raises his eyebrows slightly. Ichigo shrugs, and looks away—it's then that he spots the sword leaning against the wall on the right.

"Is that your sword?" he asks, dodging the question. He doesn't really have a home. Just a house where he sleeps and eats and happens to share with two adults. He reaches out to touch it, when a wave of energy hits him again and nearly blows him back.

"Don't touch it." Grimmjow says, his voice barely above a growl. Ichigo instantly pulls his hand back, as if burned.

"S-sorry." He stares down at his lap. "I've just never seen a real one up close before."

"Get your own when you're strong enough," Grimmjow replies matter-of-factly and somewhat disinterested, glancing down at his bandages and carefully feeling around the wound.

"Do you fight with it a lot?"

"All the time."

"Who do you fight?"

Grimmjow looks down at him. "Anyone."

"Why?"

Ichigo's question seems to hit a nerve, because his tone turns impatient. "Shut up, you're giving me a headache."

"I'm gonna learn how to fight," Ichigo starts, babbling as kids often do. "Then no one will mess with me anymore and I won't have to run from anyone. I'll protect myself and my friends from those stupid jerks."

Grimmjow doesn't respond, too busy taking off his bandages.

"Hey, you're not supposed to do that, you've only had it on for like five—" Ichigo stops talking when the wound is revealed and it looks like it has closed up, no longer bleeding. "Oh. That was fast."

"Fight to win, kid," Grimmjow says, tossing aside the bloodied bandages. "Not to survive."

Ichigo frowns slightly as he thinks about it. Fight to win? He only ever just thought about self-defense, but fighting to win does sound more appealing when he imagines his tormentors being the ones that are beat up for once.

Grimmjow's back to having his eyes closed, arms now folded across his chest. Ichigo doesn't know what to think of the man, but he's certainly the most interesting not-spirit-spirit Ichigo has come across yet.

"Are you sleeping?"

"…"

"Hey, Grimmjow?"

"..."

"Stupid old man?"

A burst of energy hits him again, but this one isn't as harsh as the other two were, kind of like a flick on the forehead rather than a shove in the face.

Grimmjow doesn't open his eyes as he replies, "Go home, brat."

"Don't wanna," Ichigo counters with a pout, pulling up his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs. "It's no fun at home. Hey, Grimmjow, do you know any tricks with that sword?"

Grimmjow cracks his eyes open, irritated. "What do you think a sword is, you shitty brat?" he berates, though the insult makes Ichigo grin a bit. "It's a weapon, not a toy."

When Ichigo keeps giving him the pleading look, he says, "Fine, here's a trick—I'll shove that sword down your throat blade-first and you'll watch it come out of the other end."

"Ew, no!" Ichigo blurts out with a grimace, shaking his head wildly before his train of thought wanders off again. "But you know how to fight with it, right? Can you fight without it too?"

"Of course," Grimmjow scoffs, as if insulted by the mere question. "Beating someone up with your bare fists is the best kinda fight."

Ichigo, however, has already moved on to thinking about different things yet again, barely having listened to the answer. "Grimmjow, how old are you?"

Grimmjow frowns slightly, and doesn't respond.

"Don't you know?" Ichigo guesses.

"Never kept track."

"That's so weird. I'm already eight, you know!" Ichigo says with a smile, which then falters when he remembers the fact that his birthdays stopped being celebrated two years ago, not that they were ever much of a celebration to begin with, considering his parents.

"I'm definitely older than eight."

Ichigo chuckles, the gloomy thought fleeing, and he thinks he catches a slight twitch of the man's lips. He's starting to warm up to the eccentric spirit, even if he was intimidating at first glance. He's also kind of a jerk, but Ichigo feels that he probably doesn't have any bad intentions. Not towards him, anyway.

The moment is interrupted when he hears voices from downstairs. There are several of them, and he recognizes them instantly, his body stiffening. Why are they here? They didn't follow him before, losing track of him once he hid in the warehouse—was it just his bad luck that they chose this building to mess around with?

"…believe Kurosaki got away, though."

The voices are getting closer and Ichigo stands up, but knows he has nowhere to run. He's completely cornered, and he'll be toast if they check in this room.

"Heh, we'll just get him next time."

Ichigo now looks at Grimmjow, who is staring at him but seems indifferent to the whole ordeal. He's invisible to them, after all. It won't matter if they come barging in here.

"I guess this is the highest floor! Makes for a pretty sweet…" One of the voices trails off before taking on a panicked tone. "C-can't… breathe…"

The others join him, frantic.

"What-what the hell is…"

"We gotta get outta here, guys!"

It is then that Ichigo notices the energy radiating off Grimmjow, but this time, it isn't aimed at him. The heavy, dark waves are aimed straight at his tormentors, who are now running down the stairs as if the devil were chasing them.

Ichigo is wide-eyed. It's the first time anyone has helped him get rid of the bullies and driven them off so successfully, without even lifting a finger! He's overtaken by a mixture of awe and gratitude, something that seems to tick Grimmjow off.

"Don't get the wrong idea, brat," he says with a scowl. "They were just making too much noise and trespassing in my territory."

It begs the question of why he hasn't turned away Ichigo yet for trespassing, but he decides for once that it is better to grin quietly. In his mind, however, he's just made a new friend. "Thanks anyway, Grimmjow."

"Tch." Grimmjow suddenly stands up, grabbing his sword and tucking it underneath his sash. He walks over to Ichigo, who blinks and stands up hastily, getting nervous as he wonders what Grimmjow is doing.

His question is answered when the man bends down and scoops him up, holding him underneath one arm as if he weighs nothing. "H-hey! What are you doing?"

"Taking you home. Where's your house?"

Ichigo struggles as Grimmjow walks to one of the glassless windows. "I don't wanna go!"

"I'm not letting you stay here either, kid. You talk too much. Now tell me, where's your house?"

The arm holding him doesn't budge an inch, and Ichigo finally gives up, giving him a brief description of where he lives. "You aren't going to carry me all the way, are you?"

Grimmjow doesn't respond, and with a leap, he jumps onto the windowsill, almost giving Ichigo a heart-attack. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU CRAZY OLD MAN?"

"Shut up," Grimmjow replies lazily, and jumps.

For the first few seconds, Ichigo is convinced they'll be hitting the ground and dying instantly. It was his own fault for randomly trusting a stranger, after all, right? And it's not like anyone will really miss him—

Then, of course, Grimmjow touches down on the roof of a building for the briefest second before jumping and soaring through the sky. Ichigo's screaming ceases instantly, Grimmjow not at all seeming to care to who might see them as he practically flies, and Ichigo stares his eyes out, the whole thing feeling like a rollercoaster.

The view of the city is amazing. He can see almost the whole of Karakura Town, and for some reason, he's not scared of falling. Grimmjow's arm is around him is tight and secure, and even though Ichigo has only known him for an hour, he feels like he can trust him. Who knew spirits could jump this high?

Grimmjow lands within a minute, and Ichigo feels a bit disappointed that it's over so soon. He's out of breath, and still pumping with adrenaline as Grimmjow puts him down in the empty street.

"That was amazing!" he exclaims with an ear-splitting grin. "How did you do that? I've never seen any spirit fly like that!"

Grimmjow still looks bored, but Ichigo thinks he can read something of amusement from his eyes. "Favor for a favor, kid." It takes a moment for him to catch up to Grimmjow's meaning, when he realizes the spirit is probably talking about the bandages and water bottle.

Without saying anything more, Grimmjow turns around and starts walking away. Alarmed, Ichigo calls out to him. He's not about to let the man disappear so soon without knowing if he'll be able to find him again.

"Wait!" He's actually surprised to see Grimmjow listen, and pause in his step. "Will you be in the warehouse tomorrow?"

The spirit glances at him from over his shoulder. "Maybe," he answers, and just like that, he vanishes into thin air like a real ghost.

Ichigo slowly returns back inside, the sky having gone dark again, and even as his adoptive parents scold him for being late and send him upstairs without dinner, Ichigo finds that he doesn't care.

Today, he has made a new friend.