I do not own Bleach or its characters.
Warning: Alternate universe, somewhat spoiled seeming Ichigo in the first few chapters, and a very sexy, very intimidating Grimmjow.
You know how there are those movies and stories where someone is suddenly thrown into a totally different life because some rich far out uncle that they have never known or heard of has left all of their fortune to their last living relative? I never believed that shit. Made me angry, in fact. Stuff like that just doesn't happen in real life, you know? It's all someone's strange fantasy that they will be given a fortune without ever having to raise a pinky finger in order to gain it. It's absolutely absurd.
Too bad my aversion to such stories has landed me where I am now.
I don't know how long I have been driving. A few days, at least. I'm slightly pissed off that I'm putting all these miles on my brand new car, a Chevy Camaro that I have worked my ass off in order to afford, but apparently it's part of the will that I actually go live at the stupid place before I can sell it off.
Lost yet? Alright, let's go back a little bit.
So I'm sitting in my apartment right? Rukia, my girlfriend, is there with me and we are just having a ball. If there is anything I love more than getting my hands on her, I have yet to find it. Anyway, so we are there pretending to watch a movie and really only exploring each other with our tongues when my phone rings and jerks me out of the haze of passion that I had begun to fall into.
Not a happy camper. I pick up the phone and in the gruffest, most annoyed voice I can I answer with a "What?" that makes whoever it is on the other side pause before actually answering me.
I scowl and sit up from the cuddled embrace of Rukia, wanting to rip the head right off of the person who is calling. I didn't recognize the number but it's a bad habit of mine to just answer the phone whenever it rings. I really needed to stop that.
"I'm not interested in whatever you're selling." My words are scathing. I can't believe that I had to drag my hand away from Rukia's small, perfect breasts so that some stupid telemarketer can try to swindle me of money. I'm just about to hang up because Rukia is giving me those dark, need you eyes, when the voice on the other side of the line speaks up again.
"My apologies, Kurosaki, but I am not a Telemarketer. My name is Urahara Kisuke and I am calling on behalf of your recently deceased uncle, Kurosaki Kaein."
That struck a nerve. I sat up so fast that Rukia, who had been comfortably straddling my legs, rolled off and on to the floor with an indignant sound that I didn't even register. I got up to my feet, my expression murderous.
"I don't have an uncle. You have the wrong Kurosaki."
I wanted to hang up then and there, but the calm voice on the other side of the phone merely continued with a tone that hinted at amused control, making my vision prick with darkness.
"Ah, no. Kurosaki Ichigo, the only living relative of Kurosaki Kaein after the untimely death of his brother, Isshin, and Isshin's wife, Masaki and her two daughters, Karin and Yuzu. Currently located at Seretei Corp. in Karakura town, age twenty two. Am I correct?"
With every word my anger had grown more and more until his question was asked and the hot coil that had been building snapped, my tongue reacting before I could reign in my temper.
"I don't want anything to do with an Uncle that has not bothered to contact me since his own brother died. Give it to someone else."
Rukia was standing up by now, tugging on her shirt and looking at me with this expression that I'm not so sure I liked. I clenched my free hand into a fist and turned my back to her, scowling at the wall with everything that I had as he continued.
"Mah, well, you see Kurosaki-san... It's in the will. You must come and live at the estate that has been given to you for at least two months before you can decide to sell it off or give it away. I think it would be of interest for you to actually see the place."
Silence. I wasn't sure whether I should cuss this Urahara guy out or throw my phone against the wall but I wasn't allowed to do either because his voice comes filtering through the phone once more, gently.
"If you come to my office tomorrow morning around, say, ten... we can discuss this matter more. I am actually quite near you. Your Uncle and Father wanted someone near you in case something like this happened."
And that's how it all started.
My GPS lets me know when I am about twenty minutes out from this new place of mine. It also beeps and draws my attention to the fact that, hello, the closest gas station to my place is this one right here. I mean, really? A twenty minute drive to the freaking gas station?
Whatever. I'm already in a bad mood and I know… I just know that the fifth of liquor tucked away in the trunk just isn't gonna last me past tonight. So with that thought in mind I pull into the station, cap of my car, and walk into the little building with the intention of buying as many cases of beer as I can carry out myself.
The bell jingles, but it's not one of those little bells that you normally hear. I look behind my shoulder and up and sure enough there's a cowbell clattering against the now closed door. I feel my eyebrow rise. I knew as soon as the houses and cities started fading around me that I was heading into the middle of nowhere, but really?
Shaking my head I turn towards the right side of the gas station where I had spotted where the drinks are, and take two steps in that direction when an extremely girly, extremely cheerful voice interrupts me and makes me glance towards the counter where an ancient looking register sits precariously in front of a brightly smiling woman.
The first thing I immediately realize is that she has large breasts. Mountainous affairs that cause the buttons of her shirt to strain over them as if they want to pop open and set those puppies free. I mean, really. Then I notice that the buttons are attached to a white, long sleeved shirt that has a strange design running up each sleeve to its collar and that leads to a neck that currently has a burgundy bandana tied around it…
Then up to a round face that holds a small blush and a wide, wide grin. Waist long light brown hair is braided into low pigtails, (pigtails!), and sparkling eyes fringed with lashes are honed in on me with this expression of utter expectation; of what, I have no clue.
And then I realize that she had said hello, and asked me how I am doing.
I blink real nice and slow like, not because I don't know the answer but because where I'm from, in my city back home, people don't really talk to each other in the gas stations unless it's absolutely necessary. After a few seconds I remember that I was raised with some manners, and I give her a small smile.
"I'm fine, thank you." And then beer, precious beer, is tucked into my arms and I carry it back to the front of the store and deposit the three twenty four packs with a small sigh.
When I look up, she's staring at me curiously. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that she is wondering who I am and where I'm from, her eyes sliding down over what I'm wearing.
I don't belong here. My light khaki pants, short sleeved collared button up shirt coupled with a white blazer that houses four blue stripes (two from each shoulder and angling down towards my hips) absolutely scream that I'm an outsider. Add my brightly colored orange hair and hazelnut eyes with thin framed black slender glasses resting on the bridge of my nose… well. I'm not an idiot. I can see the wheels in her head turning.
She doesn't ring anything up, doesn't do any calculating other than typing out a few numbers on that ancient cash register that looks more like a type writer, and then her voice is lilting out again happily. "Twenty eight thirty four is your total! Hey, where are you from anyways?"
She's got this bit of a…I dunno. A twang? It's barely there, but I hear it at the pronunciation of every word, especially on the word 'your.' I let it slide, because I probably have an accent to her too, judging by the way she is staring at me. I pull my wallet out of my back pocket, thumb two twenties out of it, and offer them to her with another calm, polite smile.
She seems to accept this explanation and doesn't pry any further as she fiddles around with the money for a second, offering my change after recounting it twice to make sure she has it right. "Alright, here you go Mr…."
She trails off as if just realizing that she doesn't know my name and I really debate on if I should give it to her or not. I decide perhaps I really should because if I am going to have to stay in the area for the next two months then I don't need to make the locals mad by being rude.
"Ah, call me Ichigo."
She smiles again, bouncing up and down which in turn drags my attention to her breasts again because they are bouncing up and down, and I have to blink hard to look away. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ichigo! I'm Orihime! Hey, are you here to visit family or something? If you need anything while you're here, you just let me know, ok?"
She's chattering away even as I pull two cases underneath my arms, holding one in my left hand so that I still can somewhat use my right.
"Thank you. Good bye."
I'm out the door before she can say anything else, that damn cowbell rattling behind me, and soon I am on the road again for the last little leg of my journey.
The lawyer I had spoken to, Urahara, had kept referring to the place I inherited as an 'estate,' but I really truly hadn't been expecting this.
The place is huge.
I'm not even exaggerating. Five of the twenty minutes that it took me to get here was made up, apparently, of the 'driveway.' Thick woods flanked either side of the twisting dirt road, and I had cringed with every little bump in the road, or every little pebble I heard kick up against the tires. Not to mention, some tree branches found it necessary to grow out into the path and give loving little brushes against my car's paint job.
But when I rounded the last bend in the trees and they suddenly fell away, I had slammed on the breaks so fast and so hard that my car had slid a little bit even though I wasn't going very fast at all. I had immediately thrown my car in park, opened the door, and stepped out to gape.
Which is what I'm still doing now.
The house is long. Extremely long. It's brick, I can tell that from here, with a section off to the left hand side that is made up completely of windows. The middle section of the house is where the door is; I can tell that because there is a little white path leading from a wide circular driveway in front of the house, and then off to the right is a connected, three car garage, with what looks like an upper floor. The roof is colored a dull green to compliment the brown of the brick, and the entire front yard is mowed to perfection and practically the greenest grass I've ever seen.
But no. No, the house is impressive, but when I say that what lies before me is huge, I really mean it's massive.
Because there, beside the house and a little behind it, is the strangest looking building that I have ever seen in my entire life. Its two stories tall, the bottom half looking as if it's constructed by stone, and the top half is made up of cherry colored wood. The roof is steepled and black, and the whole structure is made into a wide, semi-circle that opens up at each end and in the very middle by double doors that look like they slide open. There's a beat up looking blue pickup truck parked off to the side, though I don't see anyone around, and I don't exactly know what I'm looking at…
Until a loud sound catches my attention and my head snaps to the left of the strange looking building and oh, oh dear god no, I realize exactly what it is that I'm looking at.
This has to be a mistake. It's absolutely, positively the wrong address, no matter what my On Star system says in my car, because there is absolutely no way, No Way, that this place… this… this….
This horse farm, is now his!
Somewhat short, I dunno if I like how I started it, per say, but it's another one of those little ideas that won't let me focus on my other stories until I get it down so, here ya go.
The first installation of my new story, Stallion.