Ok, so here it is... First Bleach fic... no, we weren't on drugs... Let us know what you think.
Adjective or Verb?
Kenpachi + Ichigo + Grimmjow, with Yachiru for innocent innuendo and Ishida to get Ichigo realising what’s up.
“Oh, hey Yachiru,” Ichigo said, turning to greet the tiny pink-haired Shinigami. “Oi, wait, is Kenpachi here too? What’s up?”
“Nope, Ken-chan isn’t here,” she said cheerfully, hopping across to sit on the roof next to him. “He wanted to come visit, but there was paperwork and stuff.”
“Huh.” Momentarily boggled at the mental image of Zaraki Kenpachi sitting at a desk -- if there was anyone less suited to wielding a pen instead of a sword, he didn’t know them -- Ichigo blinked, then shook his head. “So what brings you to the living world? Trouble?”
*Oh gods. Yachiru on a sugar high, yeah, that’s trouble.*
“You want to come shopping too? We could get candy for you!”
“Ah, yeah, no thanks. I’m on patrol right now, sorry,” Ichigo shrugged, genuinely thankful that he had an excuse.
“Awww. Oh well! I’ll bring you back some candy anyway, okay Icchy? Bye!” And she was gone, flash-stepping across the rooftops in the direction of the Urahara Shouten.
*…Yachiru, on a sugar high, is going to be bringing me candy. _Please_ let something happen before she gets back. Hollows. Espada. _Anything!_*
“Taichou, I’m not _allowed_ to do the paperwork for you!”
“Yes you are, I’m ordering you to aren’t I?”
“No, Taichou, I mean that after the last time--”
“Which wouldn’t have been a problem if you hadn’t doodled ideas for new hairstyles on the back of it,” Ikkaku muttered from the doorway, where he was pretending to be not-listening.
“--Yamamoto-soutaichou himself ordered me not to do it for you again,” Yumichika said apologetically.
“Even if I threaten you? He won’t blame you then.”
Yumichika sweatdropped theatrically. “Ah. Well. You have a point there, Taichou, but Unohana-taichou has mentioned that anyone giving in to physical threats to do your paperwork will not get the _nice_ treatment options the next time they require her squad’s assistance. And since we in the Eleventh require the Fourth a _lot_--”
“Oi, oi, wait, since when did Unohana care if you lot do the paperwork for me?!”
“Since Ikkaku screwed up the paperwork that was meant to have half the Fourth’s bandage supplies paid for out of our budget. That’s still not sorted out, and--”
“It’s not like _I’d_ get it right either!”
“No, Taichou, but when an accountant is told a third seat messed up the paperwork, they say ‘Tough, fix it yourself, and we want the new paperwork in triplicate’. When they’re told _you_ messed up the paperwork, they say ‘OH I’LL FIX IT DON’T WORRY’.”
*Rampaging ghosts. Menos Grande. Hell, I’ll take a visit from Don Kan’onji, Mister Bo-hahahaha himself, _anything_--*
The alarm on his badge squawked at the same moment as he felt the wrenching sensation of something large ripping through into Karakura, and he grinned.
*Yes! Something to fight! A reason not to be here when the Pink Menace comes back! Today must be my lucky day!*
“…Today is _not_ my lucky day,” Ichigo sighed, staring gloomily at the Gargantua. More accurately, he was staring at the blue-haired Espada floating in front of the black rip in the sky.
“Kurosaki! Just who I wanted to see!” Grimmjow said, grinning madly.
“That does not make me feel happier. What do you want, Grimmjow?”
“Oh, the usual. A good fight, your blood, a little exercise. Let’s go!” And the Espada charged, ripping out his sword.
“Why did I even ask?” Ichigo muttered, swinging Zangetsu up to block.
Grimmjow’s mood was contagious, though, and he soon found himself grinning back as they both did their best to smack each other across the sky. It was like sparring with Zaraki, fighting something like a sentient blender set to ‘puree’ that was doing its best to mince him and yet was so damn _happy_ about it he couldn’t help enjoying himself.
“Now that’s more like it, Shinigami,” Grimmjow chuckled, razor-edged grin widening as he raised one glowing hand. “Ain’t no fun if we’re not both giving it all we got… so how about we take it up a level?”
*Happy sentient blender with _lasers_, right.* Not bothering to answer, Ichigo dropped back a step and lifted Zangetsu in front of him, both hands on the hilt-- though, come to think of it, Grimmjow would probably consider that stance a perfectly good answer.
“_Bankai!_ Tensa Zangetsu! Getsuga Tenshou!”
“Eat this!” And Grimmjow fired his Cero.
The black arc of energy and red Cero annihilated each other, the resulting explosion blowing the two fighters further apart. Skidding to a halt in mid-air, Ichigo took a breath and tightened his hands on his swordhilt. One leg of his hakama was shredded, a couple of his bruises were deep enough to stick around for a couple of days, he was bleeding from a dozen small cuts, and _damn_ but he felt alive!
Grimmjow was laughing as the air cleared, and Ichigo snickered despite himself. He’d marked the Espada too, leaving one sleeve of his white outfit hanging by a thread, and on the whole he figured they were about equal on points.
“Had enough exercise yet?” he called, smirking.
“Hell no! We’re just getting started here, Kurosaki, don’t wimp out on me yet!” Crouching like a cat, Grimmjow narrowed his eyes as he prepared to charge again, and--
--something blurred into view from the side and swung, whacking Grimmjow solidly across the side of the head with… a large white shopping bag full of sweets?
“No playing with Icchy!” Yachiru shouted angrily, glowing deadly pink.
“What the _fuck_?!” Grimmjow staggered backwards, one hand going to where she’d hit him and coming away bloody. (Part of Ichigo noted, a little grumpily, that she’d done more damage to him with several boxes of Pocky and who knew how many bags of hard candy than he’d managed with his sword.)
Grimmjow blinked in bewilderment, wondering if the hit to his head had scrambled his vision somehow. No… no, everything else was still the right colour, so… Pink.
Tiny. And pink. _Glowing_ pink, that was, with an impressive amount of reiatsu producing a killing aura that was seriously concentrated.
“What the fuck, Kurosaki, you’ve got a pink midget bodyguard now?”
“Oi, don’t blame me for her!”
The Pink Avenger interrupted, pointing one tiny finger in his direction. “Hey! You don’t get to play with Icchy! Icchy is Ken-chan’s toy!”
“OI!” Kurosaki sputtered, apparently unable to come up with anything more coherent.
“Huh.” Recovering his composure, Grimmjow glared at the tiny (pink) Shinigami. “Oi, pinky, don’t you try to give me orders! If I wanna play with Kurosaki I’m damn well gonna play with him!”
“Ken-chan has more fun playing with Icchy than he has in _ages_, so Icchy--”
“Don’t I get a say in this?” Kurosaki asked plaintively.
“No!” Grimmjow and the pink thing yelled together.
“…Fuck this. Grimmjow, that’s Yachiru. Yachiru, that’s Grimmjow. Have fun, don’t break the town, I’m going home.”
“Hey, Kurosaki, don’t leave me hanging here with the fucking pink midget-- aw, shit. Now see what you’ve done!”
Pinky sniffed haughtily, crossing her arms. “It’s not _my_ fault if Icchy doesn’t want to play with you.”
“We were having a perfectly good fight until you showed up and ticked him off!” Grimmjow snarled under his breath, sheathing his sword. “Damn. I was having fun, too.”
She studied him for a moment, then held out the bag. “Want some candy?”
“Finally!” Kenpachi slammed the last form down on the pile, shoved them into Yumichika’s arms, and stalked out of his office. “I’m outta here. Ikkaku, I’m going out--”
“--huh. Yachiru? Where’ve you been?”
“Visiting Icchy and getting candy! But then Grimmy showed up and Icchy had to go home.”
* * * * *
Ichigo stood on thin air high above Karakura, staring around himself.
*Well, today’s been quiet so far--*
*--why the _fuck_ did I think that?! I know what happens when I think that!* “Hi, Kenpachi. Got the paperwork done, huh?”
“Nah, I shoved it off on Makimaki. What’s this Yachiru tells me about some jerk called Grimmy?”
“Yeah. Blue hair, toothy mask bit, likes sour apple hard candy, fights with you and you never thought about maybe _telling_ me about him?”
Ichigo blinked, finally turning around to stare at the belled Shinigami. “What the fuck, Zaraki, why would I need to tell you about some other jerk who shows up to fight me all the time?”
“All the time, huh?” Zaraki folded his arms, scowling. “How long’s this been going on?”
“…Why are you mad?!”
“You’re cheatin’ on me and I’m not supposed to be mad?!”
“What the-- seriously, Zaraki, what the _fuck_, are you nuts? You sound like someone’s jealous boyffffffrrrrrrr ohhh shit you _are_ jealous.”
“Do I got a reason to be?”
“_No_! Shit, I do not belong to you, okay? I thought it was just Yachiru being silly about it, I am not your personal target or practice dummy or toy or whatever it is you’re thinking!”
A small pink head popped up from behind Zaraki’s shoulder. “But Icchy, Ken-chan--”
“Shaddap, Yachiru, the grownups are talking. Though I don’t know if Kenpachi counts as an adult right now, since he’s behaving like a thirteen-year-old girl with her first crush!” Ichigo took a deep breath, rubbing one hand across his eyes as he struggled to compose himself, then gave up. “Fuck this,” he muttered, grabbing Zangetsu’s hilt. “_Bankai!_”
Zaraki grinned, drawing his own sword with one hand as he reached up to take his eyepatch off with the other. “That’s better. I knew you liked me best.”
“Shut the fuck up and _die_ already!”
* * * * *
“Kurosaki-kun.” Ishida Uryuu pushed his glasses up with one finger, eyeing his classmate out of the corner of his eye. “You look… tired.”
“Fucking Kenpachi,” Ichigo muttered, trudging along with his bag over his shoulder. “Fucking Grimmjow. They haven’t let me get any sleep so far this week.”
Ishida blinked. *Surely he doesn’t mean…* “Kurosaki,” he said slowly, “when you say ‘fucking’, are you using it as an adjective or a verb?”
“When’s the wedding? And to which of them? Or are you aiming for happily homicidal polyandry?”
“Why the _hell_ are you looking disappointed, you perverted Quincy jerk?! What is _wrong_ with everyone all of a sudden?! First Grimmjow and Yachiru are arguing over who gets to ‘play’ with me, then Zaraki acts like a jealous lover, and now you?!”
“Believe me, Kurosaki, while I may be an interested spectator I am not planning to join the apparent competition for your… shall we say, time and attention,” Ishida told him coolly.
“Good, because there isn’t one! Not that way! They’re fighting over who gets to _fight_ me, not-- wait, if I get them to fight each other they might just leave me alone,” Ichigo mused, distracted. “Then I could get some _sleep_, damn it.”
* * * * *
“zfp. mrnh,” Ichigo mumbled into his pillow, pulling the blankets higher over his head.
“OI! ICHIGO! WAKE UP, MORON!”
“BZWHUH?!” Flailing up out of the cocoon he’d constructed around himself, Ichigo squeaked in panic to find Abarai Renji standing over him, glaring. “Oh shit, Renji, not you too!”
“Not me what?” Renji looked confused, then scowled. “Don’t change the subject!”
“You hadn’t started talking yet, Renji; he doesn’t have a subject to change,” Rukia pointed out from the windowsill.
“Oh. Right. What are you doing in bed, Ichigo? You’re supposed to be out on patrol! Hollow activity has been increasing recently, this is no time to be slacking off!”
“Fucking Kenpachi,” Ichigo moaned, head dropping into his hands. “Fucking Grimmjow. Now fucking Renji. No fucking _sleep_…”
Rukia looked interested. “When you say ‘fucking’, are you--”
“Don’t go there! I’m surrounded by perverts and weirdos!”
“Which just makes the question even more pertinent,” she pointed out.
“It’s an adjective, okay?! I’m not verbing anyone!”
Rukia looked disappointed. Renji looked confused.
“What are you two doing here anyway? Please have some sort of nice, normal reason.”
Renji shrugged. “Like I said, Hollow activity has been picking up recently in this area, and a couple of readings have been worryingly strong. Have you run into anything unusual?”
“Yeah,” Ichigo said sourly. “Grimmjow. He and Kenpachi keep turning up to spar with me, though with Grimmjow it’s more ‘attempt to kill while laughing’.”
“Sounds like Zaraki-taichou to me,” Rukia muttered. “Are you sure it’s sparring and not foreplay?”
“Rukia! I swear, if you’re getting these ideas from those crap romances you keep reading, the next time I see you with one I’m gonna stuff it up your--”
Ichigo’s tirade was interrupted by his badge alarm going off, and he grabbed it, swearing. “You just watch, I bet that’s that blue-haired laser blender ass. This time I’m gonna puree _him_ -- no, wait.” He grinned suddenly. “Either of you got a hell butterfly on you?”
“Yo, Kurosaki! Where’s your pink bodyguard? I got some peppermints to swap her this time.”
“Grimmjow, if you give Yachiru more candy I swear I’ll kill you for real this time,” Ichigo growled, slouching.
“He’s an Espada?” Renji snapped, hand on his hilt. “I’ll--”
“No, Renji,” Rukia murmured, one hand on his sleeve. “Don’t get involved in a lovers’ quarrel.”
“Damn it, Rukia,” Ichigo sighed, more tired than annoyed. “Did I not make myself clear? Book. Insertion. Papercuts. Cut it out!”
“What the fuck, Kurosaki? More bodyguards?” Grimmjow looked mildly interested. “Oi, either of you got candy?”
“Nobody’s taking this seriously any more, are they?” Ichigo complained.
“I am!” Renji objected.
“I’m totally serious!” Grimmjow agreed. “I wanna fight! The candy is secondary. It’s not like I can just go shopping, y’know.”
“Yeah, well, you’ll get your fight, and probably your candy too if I know Yachiru,” Ichigo told him, grinning. “Ah, no, hold on!” he added hurriedly, holding up his hands in a ‘wait a second’ gesture as Grimmjow smirked and went for his sword. “Just wait a minute, he won’t be long.”
“‘He’?” the Espada asked suspiciously.
Before Ichigo could answer, a Senkaimon glowed into existence a short way off, then opened.
Ichigo’s grin widened. “Grimmjow, this is Zaraki Kenpachi, taichou of the 11th squad and all-around badass. Kenpachi, this is--”
“Grimmy!” Yachiru squealed, and a pink blur attached itself to Grimmjow at waist height. “Hi! I got more candy, want some?”
“--Grimmjow, 6th Espada and also all-around badass sentient blender, with bonus lasers. Settle it between yourselves, have fun, don’t break the town, I’m going back to bed now.”
“It’s too quiet.”
Staring at his ceiling, Ichigo twitched gently. It was, indeed, far too quiet. No flaring reiatsu. No red flashes of light across the sky as two insane blenders went at it. No sound of insurance premiums going up as bits of architecture mysteriously exploded.
“…I’m not going to be able to go to sleep until I’m sure this is sorted,” Ichigo sighed, and reached for his badge again.
Back where Grimmjow had opened his Gargantua, Ichigo blinked at the sight of Zaraki Kenpachi (11th squad taichou, terror of Seireitai, all-around badass) and Grimmjow (6th Espada, terror of Hueco Mundo, likewise all-around badass) making some sort of chart, using paper and crayons apparently supplied by Yachiru (11th squad fukutaichou, likewise terror of everywhere she went, pink badass).
“…nah, you can have Tuesdays,” Zaraki was rumbling, pointing at a space on the brightly coloured grid. “I’m stuck at the damn captains’ meetings on Tuesdays, and I can’t get out of ‘em the way I do paperwork.”
“What’s going on?” Ichigo whispered, sidling up to Renji.
“They’re making a schedule,” he shrugged, looking bemused.
“A schedule? Scheduling what?”
“Fights,” Rukia said, looking up from where she and Yachiru were drawing bunnies. (Probably bunnies. Yachiru’s pictures involved fangs and blood, and Rukia’s… well, she drew bunnies a lot, so it was either that or teddy bears.) “With you.”
“What the hell?” Ichigo gaped. “Damn it, I introduced them to each other so they’d _fight_ each other, not cooperate on victimising me!”
“Oh, they’re going to fight each other too,” Renji told him. “And Yachiru is taking candy orders.”
“So which one of them are you going to sleep with?” Rukia asked cheerfully. “Or are you going to wait to see which of them wins?”
“I think we should set up a betting pool,” Renji suggested, starting to walk away. Rukia got up to follow him. “We could make a serious profit, what with side bets on individual bouts--”
“I’m betting on Zaraki-taichou.”
“Yeah! Ken-chan’s the best!” Yachiru agreed enthusiastically. “Don’t worry, Icchy! Ken-chan will win you!”
“Oh, fuck the lot of you. As an adjective,” Ichigo added quickly, turning to go.