dedication: Another for Sara. ;D
notes: I'M ON HOLIDAY, WOO!

They walk for a while longer, side by side, arms swinging in synchronisation; neither of them will admit it, but they are more similar than they would like to believe. Ichigo shoves his hands into his pockets, head bowed down, a grimace across his face; he walks slowly, mind elsewhere, beside the other; Grimmjow presses a cigarette against his lips, takes a drag, and promptly scowls, throwing the thing down in disgust. He is a smoker. He dislikes it greatly; it is a loss of control, and it scares him.

It is something Ichigo can relate to.

Walking together, it feels as if time passes too slowly. He can see, hear, feel everyone around him. A mother scolds her child, but the concern is obvious in her eyes and she cradles her child as the little boy cries. A group of girls giggle together, flashing him a meaningful glance as he passes; absently, he thinks they're all probably only a few years older than his sisters. A little boy kicks a stone across the pavement; a pidgeon settles beside an old man on a bench, pecking at a couple of old chips; a man with a briefcase stands and calls for a taxi. A few steps in front of them, a car with black tinted windows pulls up, and Grimmjow raises an eyebrow and mumbles something about a surprise. The car door opens and a figure steps out.

Grimmjow's scowl darkens. "Ulquiorra," he spits out the name like it's something rotten, and reaches for another cigarette.

Ichigo simply frowns.

Ulquiorra is a beautiful man; that cannot be denied, by anyone. His skin is pale, milky white, contrasting with deep green eyes and dark, inky hair; he moves with an elagance that no other known man has. He is soft-spoken and polite, dressed in a fine kimono; it is pure white, with an emerald sash; it looks ridiculously, incredibly expensive, and no doubt hides some sort of blade. He is like a character from a manga, Ichigo thinks, all comic book lines and grace. He looks unflawed. It's an incredible thing, really; it leaves people breathless. In fact, as he steps from the car, a woman turns to watch, and a man looks up from his newspaper, transfixed — he has a presence which seeps and crawls and creeps, until people cannot help but stare. But he is cold, and his gaze is icy as he stares straight at them.

"Ulquiorra," Grimmjow repeats, and Ichigo can practically feel the anger radiating from the other. He still doesn't understand what has happened between the two, nor does he truly comprehend Grimmjow's hatred, but, whatever it is, it amuses him. It shows Ulquiorra is human, for he mirrors that hatred as the two walk to meet; his features are taut and his shoulders are rigid.

"...Grimmjow."

"You're late."

"You are lying," and, as simply as that, Grimmjow is dismissed — Ulquiorra turns to face Ichigo, scanning the other's features and then, finally, staring at the satchel. "You have it."

"Obviously," Ichigo replies, shifting the satchel's strap off his shoulder, readying himself to hand it out to Ulquiorra; this is how the meetings always go. He meets with an accomplice of the boss, hands over the merchandise, and then heads away with the cash — this time, however, Ulquiorra shakes his head.

"He wishes to speak with you."

Ichigo tenses. "Why?"

"I did not ask," Ulquiorra raises an eyebrow. "And you cannot refuse. Follow me."

He turns and heads back to the car, without another word; he's silent, despite the fact that his kimono presses against the floor — absently, Ichigo cannot help but wonder why it remains so clean, as he follows the other. Beside him, Grimmjow takes another drag at the cigarette, glances briefly down at it, and grumbles something about arrogant bastards. As Ichigo follows, a bus passes; by chance, he glances up. By chance, brown eyes meet violet; he sees her, and his eyes widen. She is sat by Red, staring out the window; her eyes widen as she spots him, and she stands up. Red looks in his direction, eyes widening before narrowing, and he springs to his feet as well; he moves over to the bus driver, disappears from view, and the bus begins to slow down.

Never taking his eyes from Rukia, Ichigo believes it's about time he made his getaway.

He sits down in the back of the car, beside Ulquiorra, and Grimmjow sits beside him, slamming the door shut; absently, Ichigo leans across Ulquiorra, ignoring the other's quiet, indignant protest — he stares out of the window, and spots Red moving across the road towards them, reaching into his pocket. Ulquiorra spots the cop too. He frowns. "Who is that, Kurosaki?"

"His boyfriend, probably," Grimmjow snaps, takes another drag from the cigarette, and doesn't even glance in Red's direction.

"Shut your face, idiot. He's just a guy. We need to drive."

They wait for a moment longer, and then Ulquiorra nods, meeting the driver's gaze in the rearview mirror. "Go."

As the car pulls away, he spots her again.

Their eyes meet—

Who is she?

Who is he?

—and then she is gone.

.

.

notes1: I love writing this so much! Keep reviewing, please.