Bleach 1. Chapter 1

**If you had the chance to do it all over again, would you do it? For Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, the question was a no brainer. Middle aged, crappy job, forming gut over the waistband of his jeans. Hell yeah, he'd do this all over again, right. But most of all he'd do it to have another chance with the one that got away.**

**Inspired by **_**1985, bowling for soup**_**.**

**"1985"**

_[Originally by SR-71]_

_Debbie just hit the wall_  
_She never had it all_  
_One Prozac a day_  
_Husband's a CPA_  
_Her dreams went out the door_  
_When she turned twenty four_  
_Only been with one man_  
_What happened to her plan?_

_She was gonna be an actress_  
_She was gonna be a star_  
_She was gonna shake her ass_  
_On the hood of Whitesnake's car_  
_Her yellow SUV is now the enemy_  
_Looks at her average life_  
_And nothing has been alright since…_

Not one day passed in which he didn't think of the vital point in his now miserable life which could have turned everything around, could have changed the way he lived. With that one decision, he Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez would have been free from this hell hole which he called a job. Would be free from the teetering fate in between a cubicle worker that had coffee breath every morning, got drunk at night to forget the day's stresses and a serial murderer that slaughtered every one of his equally stiff co-workers.

It was a tormenting thought that each second flitted through his mind giving him glimpses of what he lost in that one decision.

Blue eyes had been dully and strenuously staring at tiny font on a piece of paper inside a folder thick enough to be a multi-chapter book. The man tried to focus with as much focus as a human could possibly focus with without committing suicide, trying not to blink in fear of losing it. Hands supported his large head, forcing himself to stare down at the sheet of paper, a report that his boss had ordered him to look over and summarize.

Fuck that shit. He wasn't getting jack squat from the damned thing except a headache. He growled under his breath fighting the urge to throw the squeaky chair he sat on out the window and jump after it himself. Instead he leaned back, huffing out a heavy breath and loosening his tie. He contemplated tightening the noose and then realized that he had thought about suicide twice that day and that wasn't healthy. Grimmjow smacked his teeth realizing that offing himself in such a way was cowardly and it was the middle age crisis talking. Instead, he was going to suck it up, take his crappy life like a man, develop prostate cancer like every other old geezer and die an agonizingly slow death without having one last piss on a hospital bed. Yeah, that's the way to go. His musings brought a small blissful smile to his face.

And then he realized he was thinking about death again and the smile faltered and remembeed the report was still not read and today was the last work day he'd have to look it over. Damn, he was going to have to take it home and finish it there. He hated taking work home. Threw off his mojo.

"Yo, Jaegerjaquez." A red head of hair tied back in a ponytail poked through, knocking on the doorframe.

Grimmjow tilted his head to the side, already knowing from the way he was addressed who it was. "Fuck d'you want?"

"Tch. Always on your man rag aren't you?" Renji retorted, watching as a sneer appeared on the other's face. He didn't let him get a snappy come back in before he threw out a question to the wolves. "Some of us are going to go for a drink later tonight? Wanna join?"

Any other day, he would have turned him down. Hell, even today was a day to turn him down with him not able to finish the report. Grimmjow was always one to keep to himself, like a lone wolf, so to speak. He'd go home, make his ratty meal in the microwave, watch TV, develop more fat on his not so washboard abs anymore, drink himself to sleep and then take a piss in the morning to start the tedious day all over again. And maybe get himself some company for the night since the next day was the weekend.

He smacked his teeth, a habit that had never died out since his high school days. "Yeah, sure. Where and what time?" He took the pencil on the table and scribbled down the information Renji fed to him. He knew the place where they were going. He'd know it anywhere. He also knew who owned the place and if he was going to be in that day or not. His plan was to _politely_ call his co-workers later to make up an excuse to not show his face…or not even that. Just not show up. But after hearing where they were going, he couldn't say no. He'd never miss an opportunity to see that someone.

Besides, there was still hours until the work day ended and if he didn't kill himself in the process, the report would get itself done by then.

* * *

Six o'clock and sure enough, with a prize at the end of the finish line, Grimmjow read, re-read and summarized the report perfectly, hand written and typed. If that didn't call for a raise then screw his boss.

He walked to his office, knocking on the door with large brown letters on the window reading _'Hirako, Shinji'_. "Come in~," a voice drawled form the other side. He found his boss comfortably seated on a brown leather couch, legs spread out on it and flipping through cable TV. Fucker. The blondie looked up, addressing Grimmjow, "Finished already?" He looked pleased, taking the paperwork from Grimmjow and smiling a large toothy grin when opening his work. He whistled in amazement. "Whew! Didn't think anyone was capable of workin' like ya, Grimmy." Hirako knew his workers weren't fond of his nicknames if Grimmjow's audible growl was any sort of indication. He cut the laid back attitude of his and stood up, patting Grimmjow's left arm, "Nice job." He smiled again and raised his eyebrow when realizing it was written and typed. "Wow, look at that. This is something, Grimmy. Never had anything' like this come from your side of the fence." Shinji Hirako narrowed his eyes, "Ya want somethin', don' ya?"

Grimmjow frowned but before he could say something he'd regret to his boss, something along the lines of "Yeah. A fucking raise since I've been working in this hell hole for who knows how fucking long and I still haven't gotten one!" But, the energetic mouth of his blonde boss moved quicker than his and said, "A lollipop, yeah?"

What? A. _Fucking_. Lollipop?

He didn't know if that was something exploding in his brain or…whatever it was. It made a really loud sound and he almost snapped at Shinji, especially when the fucker chuckled. "Just yankin' yer chain." Shinji grinned, stretching his arms upward and crumpling Grimmjow's hard work at the side. "Ah, well." He muttered when he finally noticed.

Grimmjow licked his lips, just itching to leave or get a raise. Whichever. He didn't care at this point anymore. A raise meant nothing if all the money went to was for frozen sodium or larger bottles of liquor. Which would cost even more than what a raise could provide him in the long run, in the form of some sort of liver disease.

"Well, sorry to disappoint Grimmy, but ya have to put more effort into getting a raise than just a report with two different presentation styles. That an' money ain't been raking in so good for the company anyway. Might actually have to close down this time around." Shinji actually looked very out of character when the corners of his mouth dropped and he was left sighing. But then again, having an entire company crumble beneath your leadership would do that.

Grimmjow sighed too, "Yeah, well. Don't worry…about it." Words of encouragement were not his forte. They were _forced_, though, trying to break the uncomfortable silence between a laid back boss and a temperamental worker. His tie was as loose as can be at this point and Shinji finally told him, "Alright, go home. Work's over and watch those TV shows with _da_ family or cat. Whatever." He turned back to the TV now that the commercial was over, continuing to watch the drama that unfolded on the reality TV show. With a wave of his hand, Shinji dismissed Grimmjow, even though it had already been stated that he should leave. "Go on an' thanks for the report. But I don't wan' anybody comin' in here and watching me get all emotional when she says no to that hunk of man. Lock the door too, if ya don' mind."

The last thing Grimmjow saw from Shinji was him sitting down and clutching his knees on the couch, report still in hand. He locked the door behind and took note of how everyone was still struggling with their end of jobs or just playing one last round of computer games. He walked out of the office building, half of it already dark and lightless while in the other, figures still roamed about.

One look at the lot and he immediately spotted his lonely car at the farthest end. A crappy clunker of which only one tail light worked. He'd been lucky all month that not a single cop told him anything about it but he was running his luck thin at this point and would have to get it fixed soon. Opening the door, a disposable cup from a fast food restaurant fell out making him bend over and pick it up, tossing it in the back seat.

The car jostled with his added weight in the driver's side and he pulled the door closed, extracting his keys from his pants and sliding them into the ignition to bring the car to life. It purred and then choked a few times before Grimmjow finally pulled out of the lot.

On the drive home, he couldn't help but try and tune out the disgusting sounds from the street. Really, where had music gone down the drain? Ten, twenty years ago? There was some sort of Indie crap rolling in through his window and he had to retaliate in rolling up his window. Yeah, no buttons to push in this shitty car. But he did have a nice stereo installed that was probably worth more than the car in total. He had a black iPod plugged into it and while the light was red, he shuffled through a list of artists accidentally mashing 'select' on a couple of Jimi Hendrix licks. The volume was up louder than he thought and the entire car shook when 'Bleeding Heart' started, gaining him looks from both sides of the car. Some older drivers, older than he and with long white beards in braids gave him a thumbs up. The hipsters blasting Indie music chuckled in unison with their posse pointing to the car that was blasting so old school music. One even dared holding up their lighter to Grimmjow, making him chuckle, until the light turned green and he sped away. "Dumbass."

He stopped at his rental house, pulling into the drive way, staying in the driver's seat until the tune ended. He grabbed his stuff, which wasn't much except for his jacket and keys to retrieve his mail. Only junk mail in the box, though. Still fun to look through.

House still had the same humid smell when he walks in, mail in hand. Setting everything down messily on his couch, he looks at the stove clock. The people at work would leave at a later time, sending him a text when they did and Grimmjow figured he'd still have time to do things around the house. Like take a nap. Or shower. Since he was going _there_, a shower prevailed over all decisions.

* * *

Steam rolled out after him when he opened the bathroom door. He'd always liked hot showers. A lone tan towel hung around his waist as Grimmjow stepped out into his living room, combing back the slick wet hair with his hand. He lived alone, not even a cat or a bird to keep him company. Nothing except his thoughts and a bottle. It wasn't that bad, he told himself. But when he looked down to look at his shape, he scrunched his face seeing the small lumps appearing at his waist line. Ten years ago, he'd look at that, give himself a long pep talk in front of the mirror and start running the next day. Not anymore, though.

He opened the freezer, blindly searching something out and pulling out a small box of instant macaroni. The rest was either spaghetti or lasagna that took too long to cook. Grimmjow followed the instructions on the box (he had them memorized at this point) and placed it in the microwave at the designated time and temperature, next heading to his room to put some pants on now that he had… aired out a little.

The man sure had a lot of clothes for someone who only wore one or two outfits. The rest were work clothes, ironed to a crisp and slacks, already dry cleaned. A black button up shirt and black pants would do, so that's what he set on the mattress of the unmade bed to wear next.

His iPod was still plugged in the car but that didn't mean Grimmjow didn't have an arsenal of music ready in the house. A grey remote was on the side of the table, as always, he mashed a couple of buttons with his thumb to turn on the stereo already playing to one of his favorite songs, "Highway Star" by Deep Purple. Now that sure brought him back to the days he'd borrow his dad's car and turn the volume all the way up when on the highways, receiving disapproving looks by the civilized people.

But enough of times that wouldn't return. He almost missed the timer on the microwave going off, opening the door and taking the macaroni out to set it on the counter to cool off. Grimmjow went back into his room to pull on some boxers, giving his hair one last dry off before tossing the towel aside.

* * *

He left in silence to the small bar across town when Renji Abarai sent him a text that everyone was on their way. The macaroni hadn't tasted so good; he left it half-eaten on the kitchen table.

Grimmjow pulled up, already spotting the rest of the crappy cars that were of his co-workers, parking next to them. He was nervous. Blue eyes looked up to read the name of the bar: "Black and White". He let out a heavy breath, drying sweaty hands on the knees of his pants and building courage to walk out into the parking lot air. He was Grimmjow Fucking Jaegerjaquez. It's not like anyone could tell what was on his mind, read it, and then make fun of him for it. His thoughts were his secret, a secret forever. No one would be able to tell why exactly he came here. The true purpose, however small it was. Just to get a glimpse of what he lost. What a fucking masochist.

"I can read your mind, you know." Shit. What? Grimmjow whirled on his heel coming face to face with strong yellow eyes almost piercing his soul.

A fucking cat. It licked its paw and _grinned_? At Grimmjow? It was pretty empty in the parking lot, not many people had arrived and not many would arrive until later that Friday night. He whipped his head to the left and right trying to find the source of the voice but found no other human being. It was just him, some dumpsters farther off in the distance and the cat, who was now whisking its tail back and forth, licking its paw, staring at him. He took a tiny step forward, feeling like a madman with the thoughts in mind, which was to pick up the cat and inspect it for his own sanity. However, with the first shift his foot made, the cat sprinted off into an alley.

Well, shit. That was weird.

It was quiet when he entered, save for a low jukebox in the way back, humming a tune that was drowned out by small talk. He spotted the rest of the gang at the counter, idly sitting by with drinks in hand. Renji Abarai waved him over, calling his name, "Yo, Jaegerjaquez! Didn't think you would actually make it."

Grimmjow took a seat on a stool at the edge of the group, skipping one seat. He grunted his response, "Yeah. Aren't we all happy campers that I stopped by?"

"Man, don't be a buzzkill. Get buzzed!" Renji almost spilled his drink when he raised it in the air.

Grimmjow raised his brow, small smile appearing when, inspecting his red-headed co-worker. "It's not even ten yet, Abarai."

"So? There's a time needed to get drunk?"

"Not at all, Abarai-kun! Who thought up that kind of non-sense?" A blonde woman, all curves; no fat came up behind him, slugging her skinny arm over Renji's shoulders. She had one drink in each hand, but unlike her friend, Renji, she could hold them and move around without spilling a drop. An experienced woman in the game of drink she was.

Renji said something incomprehensible and giggled. Quickly, the woman, Rangiku Matsumoto shifted her attention to Grimmjow. "Ohh!~ Grimmjow! You're here! Here!" She handed a drink to him, setting herself down on the empty stool next to him. A playful smile tugged at her lips as she batted her long eyelashes at Grimmjow. "Thanks." He mutters to her, taking a sip.

It was awful and he rapidly set it down, picked up a napkin to spit out the drink in. He smiled awkwardly afterwards when she continued to stare.

He clears his throat trying to scoot away, or start a conversation with the bartender, anything to keep the strange sensation of her gaze from giving him goose bumps, but the bartender was busy attending someone else. Grimmjow was stuck.

"You know, it's surprising, seeing you here. You never come along to any of our invites." Rangiku looked like she was pouting with her bottom lip sticking out in that manner, moving her mouth to take a sip of the brown liquid in her glass. "Why is that?" At first her eyes were looking away, her question being asked to herself aloud, until she frowned and re-stated it, this time Grimmjow knowing it was directed at him with those blue eyes staring his way again.

He simply shrugged, making like he was going to take another sip of the nasty drink. "Not a big on outings anymore." He cleared his throat, lifting his finger to call over a slender, pale, bartender who stopped in front of him with a black apron covering his front torso.

The man frowned and snickered in Grimmjow's direction, "Why ya drinkin' this stuff?" He pointed at the glass.

"Shut up n' get me something else."

"Oh, snappy. Don' make me spit in yah drink."He flashed him a pearly set of teeth before maneuvering himself to the back to fetch Grimmjow a drink. Anybody watching the conversation, like a strawberry blonde woman per se could identify the white skinned man to be a friend of Grimmjow's. They would be correct in deducing that much, at least. "Who's your company?" He asked in a hushed voice when bringing back two small shots of a light brown colored substance.

"'S nobody. Just a bunch of people from work."

"So, she single? Sorta thought you moved on for a second there…" Shirosaki Oogichi turned his head slightly, nodding in the direction of Rangiku who instantly frowned at the gesture, shifting her seat away from both of them. It amused Grimmjow, bringing him to a low chuckle.

Facing Grimmjow, who was gulping down a shot of whatever, (it didn't seem to bother not knowing the exact name of the drink to him), Shirosaki asked, "So, you still thinkin' 'bout the same thing after all these years?" The question was sincere, very much unlike the sarcastic or mocking statements that usually spewed out of the guy's mouth.

Grimmjow let out a heavy breath, gulping the last shot down, "Yeah." A pause in which his jaw clenched, lowering his eyes to the empty glasses. Shiro was called over to attend to some orders and when he came back, Grimmjow was still staring into the eternal abyss that is a shot glass. "So, how is he?" He managed to ask, resting his hand on the counter. His colleagues had soon forgotten him when the conversation with the bartender began, starting conversation amongst themselves.

"He's alright." He answered nonchalantly, tapping a black nailed finger on the cheap wood. His tongue peeked out from between his lip to lick tentatively at the soft skin of his lips, a habit, Grimmjow learned, when he was contemplating saying something or not. Blue eyes watched him silently and gold on black ones met his, already knowing that they knew what was going on in his head. Grimmjow said nothing, waiting until his friend decided to say what was on his mind.

Shiro gave in, not that it was a big deal since he wanted to say it anyway, "He ain't doin' so well, financially. Splittin' up from tha' asshole, finally." He scrunched his nose, remembering something unpleasant. "Don' think he's at tha' top of his game right now, so don' even think about goin' up to him when he comes in_. If_ he comes in." The bartender began to wipe the tables down.

Grimmjow almost missed half the things he said. _"Splittin' up from tha' asshole, finally." _Shiro's words echoed in his mind, dialect and all, igniting a silent fire that had been dormant all these years. If it wasn't for an overwhelming amount of pride, he would have jumped for joy…then he remembered it was someone's time of misery, specifically the person he'd been in love with all the years since, and decided it wasn't the right place or time to be rejoicing.

But it still left him…happy. Maybe, he'd still have a chance? A tiny voice in his head pondered. Or maybe, it was too late then and much too late now… A second voice countered. The realistic voice.

He was left with mixed feelings rolling around in his gut. The main thought in his mind was: could he get back the chance he hesitated on almost fifteen years ago? Was it possible to re-build the past in the future? Was this a once in a life time chance he was dealing with, that, a lost love separated from the obstacle of reclaiming them back, thus giving a second chance to what could have been?

He had been so engrossed in his thoughts that Grimmjow missed, yet again, what Shirosaki was telling him. "You alright?" The man had a somewhat amused face, giving Grimmjow a sideways smirk.

Was he alright? At the moment, the answer was marred and contorted. On one side of the ring, a hell-bent daredevil anticipating a fight, shit eating grin on his face. On the opposite side was a moping reflection of him, already acting defeated before the fighting even began. And it was the prevailing emotion at the last second. If it was true what Shirosaki said, that _he_ was going through something like that, then he shouldn't be acting so ecstatic. In fact, _he_ was about to begin a life very similar to his, and he'd send himself to hell before wishing that kind of monotonous life on anybody else.

"Surprising is all." He motioned for a refill of his glass.

Shiro snickered, a half-hearted one followed by a low sigh, taking the other's glass between his fingers and filling it to the brim with a clear substance this time. He slid the glass over to Grimmjow, careful of not spilling any. "Hmm, though' ya be more… lively by this point."

Grimmjow shook his head a no, bringing the vodka to his lips and downing it in one go. He puffed his cheeks afterwards, blowing out a breath. "Kind fucked up if I did that, yeah?"

Shiro shrugged, "I'm celebratin'. It's a good thing he won' 'ave to deal with tha' guy anymore." The pale bartender took out a glass from beneath the counter for himself, pouring a generous amount in the tall glass, taking a sip and sighing out like what he just drank was the most refreshing thing in the world. After a slight pause, Grimmjow feeling the small leer coming from Shiro, almost reading his mind at what he was about to ask next, low growl already forming in his throat.

"So, how's Nel?"

"Fuck off. She's married." He started tapping his index finger on the wood of the counter.

"Happily?" A white brow was raised.

"Don't know. Been awhile since I talked to her." His jaw clenched and Grimmjow almost lowered his head. "Never liked that Nnoitora bastard."

"Pfft. She ended up with him?"

Grimmjow nodded, remembering his sister with lowered eyes.

"What a shame. We coulda been brothers in law once upon a time." Shiro commented with a dreamy voice knowing it would bother the hell out of the blue haired male. And sure enough, as soon as 'brothers in law' left his mouth, blazing blue eyes pierced holed in his head, making Shiro cackle enough to turn heads in their directions. He quieted down to occasional snickers. Shirosaki took a rather large gulp from his glass, setting it down afterwards with a low thud. He let out a breath through his nose, almost in a sigh. He too looked at the small glint at the bottom of the glass. "Nice lives we got for ourselves, huh?"

"…Yeah." Grimmjow answered.

* * *

He hadn't remembered of his co-workers had left before or after, but staring at his car stereo, it was way later than he should have let himself stay out. Yeah, he was a gown man, capable of staying out late without any obligations to anybody, but messing up a sleep schedule would cost him come Monday. Shiro insisted on driving him home, but the man had been toppling over his feet just as much as Grimmjow struggled over his. Both men weren't lightweights in the least, so in the morning, the pounding headache would indicate Grimmjow just how much he drank.

The road was bleary. Some rational part of his buzzed mind told him to stop, but the other irrational mind won over in his inebriated state saying 'It's only a few more blocks. Nobody's on the road anyway.'

And there weren't any other cars with loud music rolling next to him despite being a Friday, which was strange. He shook the thoughts from his head accidentally swerving off the road into the contrary lane. A loud horn, two giant lights and his instincts, faster than when he was sober kicked in, hitting the gas pedal, screeching out of the way.

Some time passed and he was left huffing in the freight truck's dust, sweating beads over the steering wheel. "Shit…"

This time remembering to look both ways, Grimmjow slowly departed the scene, wearier of his surroundings. He arrived home in once piece, an indicator of how much luck he had that night, struggled with the keyhole at the door; it kept moving on him.

The man stumbled into his own home, closing the door behind him and walking clumsily to his upstairs bedroom where he kicked off the hottest pieces of clothing which included his shirt and shoes, uncaring of the jeans still stuck on his legs. His unmade bed was the most enticing part of his bedroom that night making him forget even more so about the warm jeans and letting himself topple over the edge into the soft welcoming center of his bed. The pillows reminded him of snuggling into someone's hair and the sheets of their body heat. He sighed and dozed off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

There was a light weight on his bed that night. Grimmjow's eyes were still closed, stuck together by sleepy residue. He grunted, thinking it was a dream and trying to dispel it. The weight came closer, padding against his pillow and a tuft of fur brushed against his ear, once, twice, three times. He thought it was his hair and turned his head over.

That same fur began brushing at his nose now and produced a sneeze from the slumbering man, effectively waking him, making him come face first with large yellow eyes.

A cat.

He didn't have a cat.

The cat grinned at him and began licking its paw with closed eyes.

Alright. This dream was strange and very lucid. Almost as if he…

"It's not a dream, kitten." The black cat licked at its whiskers. He stared Grimmjow right in the eye, blinking.

If he wasn't awake before with an unknown cat sitting atop his pillow, then he sure as hell was now with it talking. Somewhere along the lines of seeing it and hearing it, he lost his voice, surely having swallowed his tongue in the process. Only his mouth opened and closed.

"Yoruichi. I think I killed his brain." The cat sighed, jumping off the bed and walking into the shadows. Grimmjow saw its outline hover in the air. Shit. Now it could fly?!

He scrambled over to his nightstand, knocking over his alarm clock which bled two fifty eight, and clicked the lamp on, instantly illuminating the room in a bright yellow light. There, in the far off corner of the room was a woman in a long black garment with locks of purple hair cascading over her shoulders. She had the cat in her arms, cradling it and caressing its shiny black fur. She had a similar yellow for the color of her eyes and the grin she gave Grimmjow eerily reminded her of the cat held in her hands.

At this point, he was stuck to the bed. Who was she? Where had all his fighting skills gone in the presence of her? Any other given time and he'd be up and about, kicking any intruder's ass that dared come into his home.

"You won't be running away any time soon." An amused laugh escaped her and she crossed the room with silent steps to sit in front of Grimmjow and look around the room. From here, he could hear the cat's purring.

"Hmm," she mused, continuing to pet the cat. Her body language was completely relaxed like she'd visited Grimmjow a million times before. "I would have thought you'd have something better for yourself." Her large yellow eyes dropped. "What happened to the orange haired boy I always saw you with?"

A small breath escaped Grimmjow through parted lips. "To Ichigo?" He was the only one she could have been referring to especially since she specifically said 'orange' and nobody in the whole country could have orange hair unless it was a dye job. He gulped meeting her eyes. "He's…" What was he? With someone else? Living his own life? Far away? "…gone."

In the silence that followed, the cat's purring was the only thing allowing Grimmjow to know that time hadn't stopped.

The woman spoke to her cat in a different language that he couldn't understand. It wasn't a form of Latin language or any western language for that matter, maybe eastern?

"You are unhappy, that is what I feel from you." She finally said, this time Grimmjow noticing a slight accent to her words that wasn't quite present before.

He found his voice, "Doesn't matter really, does it?" If she was going to kill him and thought she was doing him a favor by cutting his life short she was wrong. He already had plans for death and a pathetic one like being killed by crazy cat lady wasn't part of it. He was ready to spring.

"I'm not here to kill you." The black cat jumped from her hands and coiled its lithe body around her neck, perched behind it. "I'm here to repay a debt."

He had no question except, "A debt?"

Yoruichi stood up and over him, black whiskers peeking over her shoulder to stare down too. Both yellow sets of eyes pinned him in his spot. She grinned a wide enchanting smile, "Something that happened a long time ago."

At that moment, his eyes began getting droopy and her voice laced with an echo. Dark shadows began to envelop his vision. "What?" Grimmjow's voice sounded slurred and it felt like his body was floating off and away. He tried to get up but it was like he was trying to take control of a feather when directing his body to move. "What are you doing?" He griped, still struggling to move but his muscles feeling weak and clumsy.

"Do not worry. I won't hurt you. It's a good thing this is happening." She sighed. "For everybody."

The cat that was on her shoulder jumped off and landed next to Grimmjow. Or so he felt it that way. He struggled to move his head and lock eyes with the small animal and trying to sputter words out that were only lost before ever reaching his vocal chords.

"Don't mess it up this time." Were the last words he heard until finally succumbing to the heavy feeling enshrouding him.

* * *

**A/N: Don't drink and drive!**

**And don't worry. I'm not bashing on Indie. I actually listen to that.**

…**Well, what do you guys think?**


	2. Chapter 2

Yellow eyes.

Yellow eyes.

Yellow eyes.

_Yellow eyes._

His own pair of blue eyes snapped open like a bucket of water hit him, meeting grey ones hovering menacingly over him. "Get up already! Ugh! You're always making me late!"

They stared down at him with a quiet fire burning in the irises before sauntering away and brushing green strands of hair.

She looked familiar. _Very_ familiar.

When it finally came to him who she was,the shock was overwhelming and this entire ordeal was unnatural. His head was spinning quickly, too fast for his neck to handle. Peach colored walls surrounded him like soldiers on a battlefield, standing, watching. Welcoming yellow light filtered in through the windows giving the entire room a firey glow that almost consumed him. It was hot. The room was hot.

Shit. What the hell was going on? His sister looked 15 years younger than from the last time he saw her. Grimmjow tried to get on his haunches, legs failing him unceremoniously and knocking over a coffee table in the center of the room along with a vase of flowers that was centered on it.

A slender tall girl whirled on her heel, eyes boring into him and watching his pathetic attempt to rise from his position. "What's wrong with you? Get up and stop acting like that! Did you get drunk with that freak again?!" A shrill voice called out, "Mooooom! Grimmjow's hungover!"

There was a couch behind him and he clawed at it for dear sanity staring at the young version of his sister standing in the center of his house calling over to his mom. It was bizarre. With wide blue eyes he took in the entire room.

This wasn't his house. This wasn't his bedroom. This wasn't _real._

Finally able to shake off the disoriented feeling, Grimmjow regained the feeling in his legs, placing force on the carpeted ground and standing himself up. He looked down, inspecting his body, feeling his torso for possibly missing limbs, checking his pulse, checking for injuries, feeling the temperature on his head, cuts on his face, counting the fingers on his hands, and lastly pinching himself, enough to leave tiny pocks along the skin of his arms. He could hear his breathing. A heavy breathing through his nostrils that made him think he was running out of oxygen. That oxygen was limited at that very moment and he had to breathe in the most of it to successfully survive in the situation. He could hear his own heartbeat when locking eyes with his sister.

She was giving him the most a perplexed look, scrunching her eyebrows together, like she was watching some sort of alien claw out of its spaceship.

The words croaked out of his mouth, dry and cut like he hadn't used his voice in a long time, "Nelliel?"

She frowned and opened her mouth to speak only to be interrupted by a petite woman coming in through the living room entrance. She was wiping down her hands and had a startled look on her angular face. "What? What's going on?" Her eyes darted from Grimmjow to Nelliel in a questioning look.

Still not able to believe what he was seeing, Grimmjow, taking a step forward and forcing himself to relax, called out, "Mom?"

"Mom, I think something's wrong with him this morning." He saw Nel whisper to her mother who turned an acute ear to her words. Those slate grey eyes landed on Grimmjow and she nodded.

With a stern voice laced with authority and kindness, something only a mother could pull of, she stepped closer to Grimmjow. "Grimmjow, what's this? Why are you—Why don't you have a shirt on?"

Just as she said this, Grimmjow looked down to see that he was missing his shirt. That hadn't registered in his panic when checking himself for injuries. Why didn't he have a shirt on?

Somehow, he couldn't choke out words, more in shock by being surrounded by time elapsed versions of his mother and sister, seeing and talking to him like this was all part of the norm. "Grimmjow, answer me." Her voice was stern and demanding and her much smaller stature did little to take away from the commanding tone of her words. Grimmjow gaped down at his mother, wrinkles gone and hair only streaked with one or two hairs of white. He had the urge to touch her and make sure she was real but the blazing blue in her eyes told him otherwise. She was sure to snap his hand in two if he didn't answer the question first.

Nel had stopped the brush in mid stroke to cross her arms and begin tapping her foot. She too, like her mother narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

Without coherent words to speak, Grimmjow simply continued to think about the situation he was in, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders. There was a strange and pestering stinging on his lower back that he ignored for the time being; he probably scarped himself on the table earlier.

His mother wasn't having any of it. She approached him with silent steps like a predator rounding its prey. "What are you hiding?"

The question that always presented itself when speaking to his mom. "Nothing." He answered. He hadn't decided if this entire thing was real, if this scene unfolded before him was real but if he told his mom, especially with Nelliel standing behind her like a bad advisor, they wouldn't believe him and blame it on the alcohol they were convinced was in his system.

"Why the stutter?" Came the sharp retaliation he remembered his mother having.

Behind his mom, Nelliel was standing, smirking in place and brushing green wavy strands again. He had always hated the smug expressions his sister made when manipulating their mom. With her innocent faces and shrill voice, Nel seemed to manage the impossible in a family relationship and that was getting mom on her side more times than once.

Grimmjow growled, audibly, he noticed after Nel stuck her tongue out at him and his mom told him, "Look at me. This isn't Nel's fault, it's yours so don't go blaming her on anything. Now tell me, why were you sleeping on the couch without a shirt on?" A pause. "What time did you get home last night?" Cerulean eyes bore into him wanting to read any hints on his face that might give away a lie if Grimmjow were to answer.

Of course, Grimmjow wasn't about to reveal anything since his knowledge of this day was very limited. If the question continued like they were going he was going to have a bad time and rarely enough moments to put his thoughts together.

As he was lost in shock, he felt his mother inch closer. This wasn't right. Something was awfully wrong. He brushed past both of the women and darted towards the stairs, closer than the door.

"Grimmjow! Come back here!" A shriek of horror struck the walls and bounced off making a ringing echo in his ears. It was his mother. "IS THAT A TATTOO!?"

Blue eyes widened, brain rewired to the moment. He'd buried the memory but with the loud, unmistakable yell his mom had only made once, Grimmjow remembered it well. He twisted is body somewhere closer to the top of the stairs, hearing the loud thumps from his mom's steps climbing angrily after him. He caught glimpse of Nel 'o' shaped mouth seeing the scene. Eyes strayed down and a chuckle escaped him. Yeah. How had he forgotten what happened when he got this? A black gothic shaped six on his lower back, surrounded by red form the fresh irritation.

A low growl coaxed him back into gear. Mom.

Shit.

Grimmjow clambered up the stairs, feeling nostalgia in seeing his old home. His feet moved on their own, knowing the destination Grimmjow wanted to go. His room. Behind him the door closed instantaneously as he hurried to lock it.

A breath of relief and a few steps to the unmade bed until Grimmjow sat down. His mother could no longer be heard shouting and he didn't know it that was a good thing or not. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair and stood up to peek at his tattoo. He tried to touch it but thought otherwise.

Grimmjow could see him room in entirety. It was still like how he used to leave it. Messy, blue, and smelled of pine, something he could than his mother's air fresheners on. He stood in front of a mirror unable to believe it. His skin lacked the exhaustion of keeping a full time job. His eyes were bright around the edges. His muscles were more defined and toned. His hair had much more shine to it and reached to the nape of his neck in messy strands. But most of all, he was 15 years younger.

He didn't know how or _why_ this happened. He didn't know what to do but he knew not what to do and that was to go downstairs and face the wrath of his mom.

A car horn reached his ears and Grimmjow looked out of the small square window of his room to see who it was.

A black car was parked outside on the curb and a skinny tall man waved in the direction of his home. Nnoitora. He had the strange urge to smash his face on the asphalt.

Nel's shrill voice called out, "Bye mom!" and Grimmjow watched as the wavy green hair bounced on her head. She rounded the front of the black car and stood on her toes to receive a kiss from him. He couldn't really stand to watch his sister have her face eaten by that asshole. Grimmjow walked to his closet feeling annoyed. Angry.

He couldn't believe his sister would end up with a selfish bastard like that. The door of his closet was violently swung open and a mountain of clothing toppled over. He reached down to pick up the most convenient one and pulled it over his torso. It was tight and the fabric rubbed against the fresh tattoo. His shoes were still on, muddy though. His whole outfit felt odd. In the world of jobs, Grimmjow had gotten used to crisp, ironed polo shirts and uncomfortable slacks. Right now he felt invigorated. His younger self was beginning to take over but with his knowledge of the future.

He didn't exactly know how he'd ended up in the past or if this was some fucked up dream just toying with him and digging up his insecurities of not being able to change what had been done.

Even if it was a dream he was going to change some things starting with that jackass Nnoitora ending up with his sister.

* * *

**Sorry to all of you who thought I was going to update faster, really I am! I just got caught up in so many things. Please forgive! I felt really bad about all of you who continued to review and wrote this and apologies is its short. I just wanted to give you all guys something for leaving for so long! **

**R&R(Constructive criticism always welcome.)**

**I have nothing against Nnoitra x Nel! Hopefully I don't offend somebody's otp.**


	3. Chapter 3

His feet hit the grass. Not letting himself recuperate from the mild impact, Grimmjow surveyed the area hastily before sprinting off in a predetermined direction. Sneakers thudded softy on the lawn and then harsher on the hot sidewalk. He didn't dare look back; his mom could have easily been at the door, and with one look he would've been guilted into crawling back there. Instead of taking a chance in walking out the door, he opted for jumping out of his bedroom window. The ache on the soles of his feet and ankles reminded him of the price to pay for sneaking out (in his case 'escaping').

He turned the corner, apologizing to a middle-aged woman for startling her and continued his course. He knew the town but some roads were still fuzzy, having been reconstructed in his time and now looked worn or big department stores reverting back to individual small local owned stores. It was confusing but the more he jogged his mind, the easier it came back to him.

Grimmjow slowed down to a power walk with occasional paranoia making him turn back and check he wasn't being followed by a certain woman.

He ran a hand over his face, still unable to believe what was in front of his eyes.

Identical girls with red lipstick obnoxiously smacked their gums minding their hands. Ridiculous glasses framed their thin faces and hair was wildly out of proportion to their heads. Their thin frames were covered by similar clothing as the girls on the next block. Not to mention the baggy pants worn by the guys at the next corner or the others hanging around red cars no doubt wanting to be the next big thing. It was so cliché. It reminded Grimmjow of the parodies on TV but seeing it in real life all over again…

He shook his head and turned back only to see a clique of girls, brows furrowed over the frames of their heart-shaped glasses. One had car keys in her hands and the other three closed in on her protectively. Grimmjow had the urge to snarl at them but only had the chance to narrow his blue eyes before bumping into someone again.

"Hey. Watch where ya goin' will ya?"

Eyes were still half focused on the sneering clique behind him before he swirled his head the person. "Yeah. Sorr—" Words died on his tongue.

The everfamiliar smirk and the missing hue of skin.

Even after locking eyes with black and golden ones he still had to ask, "Shiro?"

The grin was reduced to a smirk, "Were you goin' ta 'pologize?" It was an inquiry of teasing.

Grimmjow still lacked the capacity to coherently make sentences. He looked over his long life friend. Eerily, he looked almost the same as he was going to in fifteen years, save for the faded bartender outfit. His hair was longer at the moment, though, spiky strands of white framed his face and reached to the lower part of his neck, almost the same length as Grimmjow's.

Black slim jeans and a white shirt was what the male across from him wore along with a black cloth strapped on his wrist, accentuation the whiteness of his skin. Nails were painted black, some of the nail polish chipped, showing the natural light pink underneath.

Those fingers were brought closer to Grimmjow's face, almost touching until they were snapped. "Tch. Shit, ya really out of it aren't ya?"

His nerves seemed to snap at the same time fingers were and a tan hand swatted the pale one away. "The hell?"

The question was more to him than to his friend but Shiro didn't take it as such. "I should be askin' tha same thing."

Grimmjow raised a brow, still a bit paranoid that someone would see he was in a state of anxiety. If anybody noticed something weird about him, he wouldn't know how to explain himself. Flashback to the incident with his mother and his sister, if he ever said anything, they'd think he was crazy. Was he crazy? Was this all a dream? Doubts were resurfacing in his mind. Maybe he chose to believe it was real when he was in a pinch but if he thought about it too much, it didn't make sense.

Right now, he'd just have to play along.

"You were snapping your fingers in my face!" He scowled and brushed past.

Shiro followed. "You were zonin' out."

Strange as it was, being fifteen years younger in his hometown which was filled with people who looked like they'd stepped out of a Madonna music video, it was comforting to have a familiar and non-hostile face around. He'd appreciated the feeling of being alone while he gathered his thoughts, but not the feeling of loneliness he'd felt after waking up in a time he'd stepped out of long ago. Unfamiliarity was oppressing, especially when he didn't have a clue as why he was there.

Grimmjow hadn't realized how long he'd walked; only stepping aside for patrons. Shiro's presence was lingering close behind; carefree and only along for the fact he had nothing better to do.

It was he, thought, who broke the silence. "What day is it?"

Shiro, brought out of his stupor, having found haven from his friend's strange behavior and aloofness in winking at women in their twenties, answered, "Uh...Wednesday." He himself wasn't too sure.

Grimmjow halted at that. "Month? Day? Time?"

Shiro narrowed his eyes, expression of confusion on his face. "March 27th?" He brought a hand up to his chin and stroked. "Around nine in the morning."

Something in his chest panged. The date was only a few days away from…

From what?

Something was missing wasn't it?

"Year?" He found himself asking. All this time his mind was set on a two digit number. Fifteen. Everything was fifteen years this, fifteen years that. How had he known?

"What am I, a calendar?" Shiro scoffed, walking ahead of him. He stuck his thumb in a direction and Grimmjow's eyes followed. A newspaper stand was sitting at the corner of a store. From here, he could see it. And he had been right.

* * *

Black fur kneaded through her fingers, contrasting her brown skin. Purple nails were careful as to not scratch sensitive skin.

A yellow eye opened lazily. The cat on her lap softly purred before asking, "Hey Yoruichi. Whenever you do something and forget, do you make the same mistake twice?"

The woman continued her petting, pulling gently at the long soft fur. She was quiet for a moment and her hand halted. Yoruichi stood, the black cat falling on all fours, craning his neck to see his owner look pensive. He sat on his haunches and swished his tail, beginning to lick a paw while waiting.

"I don't believe he will fail, Kisuke."

Kisuke, finished with his grooming, made his way to Yoruichi's leg. "Faith tends to taint logical thinking. The truth is if he takes too long, his mind will revert. And he will forget." He jumped on the bed and crawled on top of the body sprawled on it. "It's only his mind inhabiting the past. Not him." With his paw, he uncovered the man's face, blue hair on his face matted and face peaceful. It was like he was sleeping.

Yellow eyes stared at his master's who had hers downcast. The dark lashes were almost brushing against her cheekbones.

Kisuke continued, "I can't do this for very long and you know it. I mean look! I'm in a cat's body. The longer he stays there, his present mind will begin to slip away and come back and nothing will change. The past thoughts will take over and he will begin to think as he was fifteen years ago."

All was quiet except for the gentle breathing of the man on the bed. The candles on the table were flickering their last lights, wax dripping and then freezing like it had never run in the first place.

"If it comes to that then…" She began.

"Then what? You'll what? Do this again? How many times have you tried and still nothing's changed?"

Her brows furrowed. Too many times she'd done this, erased his mind and tried. But still the same thing would happen. Still the outcome would be the same. It was understandable that Kisuke would think that way. Usually as faithful in another's potential as she was, but sometimes it was hard to believe. But she had to hope. _He_ had to...

With a deep breath, she finished. "Then…it will be the last time. And I will not meddle anymore."

* * *

**a/n: Welp. I planned this chapter to be longer but after I wrote that my mind went 'Nononono! Leave it there huehuehue.' And so I did. I know it's short but otherwise the cliffhanger would be ruined! Just like with this author's note.**


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