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Grimmjow pulled up the dirt path to a house in the countryside. It was an old thing, standing tall still after all these years. He can tell from the outside that it’s a one-story house and it’s modernized despite being at least a century old. It’s worn a bit in some places, especially the thatched roof, but well preserved. There is a stone path leading to the front door.
“This place gives me the creeps,” he muttered to himself. But beggars can’t be choosers. He was in a bit of a situation and needed a place to lay low for awhile. Old man Urahara bought the property about a decade ago and told him he could live there for free as long as he cleaned the place up and helped at his old shop for a while. Just little things like potion making, divination and spellcasting. Obviously, he’d said yes. He’d be an idiot to turn down an offer like that.
The place really was creepy, though. It gave off a strange aura, like something very curious was watching him. He huffed a sigh through his nose and hopped out of his borrowed car. He popped the trunk and hoisted a duffel bag over his shoulder and lifted a couple boxes. He balanced them in one hand and closed the trunk with the other.
He strutted up the cracked path, weeds sticking out of the cracks. Grimmjow fished in his pocket for the key to the front door. It opened with a loud creek and he was hit with the smell of dirt, dust and decay. Great.
He moved into the house and slid the door shut. It slammed, blocking out the light streaming in from outside. To his left was a small, outdated kitchen, and to his right was a room with an old style squat toilet.
He took off his shoes in the genkan, and stepped further inward.There was an open space in front of a sliding door leading to the overgrown backyard. The house was already furnished with outdated and stained furniture. A few sitting chairs were in the room and in front of a wood fireplace that definitely wasn’t up to code. A large, tattered rug was in the center of the room.
To the right of the room were sliding doors leading to three bedrooms. The larger room had an old, but clean futon folded in the corner. There was dust covering every surface.
He dropped his duffel and boxes in this room and made his way out to inspect the other bedrooms. One had two folded futons, a stained pink rug on the floor. There was an oil lamp beside one of the futons and a small closet with clothes that looked to have belonged to young girls.
He slid the door closed behind him as he checked out the last room. This room was clearly masculine. There was a futon up against the wall, with a small table next to it with a sitting cushion. On the bookshelf in front of the futon were books upon books. He recognized a few titles, but couldn’t read the ones in English.
There was a sliding closet beside the table with some clothes still hanging inside it. Despite the style and age of the clothing, he could tell they were definitely male. He got another strange feeling in this specific room, but shrugged it off. He left the bedroom, closing the door behind him as well.
He made his way back to the front of the house and into the kitchen. There was an old style stove and doors leading to a small laundry area, dining room and the bath. He located the underfloor food storage. There was actually food left in there, all new and in good quality. Urahara must have left it for him.
After thoroughly inspecting the house, he decided to head back to the room he claimed as his. He unpacked the two boxes and duffel he brought with him. He pulled out the sparse amount of clothes he had, folded them, and placed them into the empty chest in the room.
He had a few toiletries he would move to the bathing area that night before bed. The rest of his items were materials used for his practice. Books upon books of spells, curses and blessings, summoning books, a large Oujia board, tarot cards and other divination tools and a compact, foldable altar.
He began setting up his altar and tools and placed his books on the table in the room. He located an oil lamp and decided he can use that when it grows dark.
He set everything up in about 30 minutes. He decided he’ll clean the house to the best of his ability, cook a meal, bathe, and then sleep for the night.
He did so, and then unfolded the futon. He gathered some blankets he found in one of the other bedrooms and used that for his futon. As he settled into bed, he felt like he was being watched again.
It’s not that he doesn’t believe in spirits, but it’s usually not his first explanation for weird feelings. He liked to use as much logic as possible, despite being a witch and a very spiritually sensitive one at that.
The feeling persisted so he decided to light the oil lamp and read a few non-magic texts that he brought with him. Shonen manga, to be precise. He read in silence for about 20 minutes, still not feeling any more at ease than before.
He glanced up and around the room every now and then, trying to be as subtle as possible. Another 10 minutes went by and then a breeze out of nowhere blew the oil lamp’s flame. He startled, looking around the room frantically. He didn’t see anything, just shadows bouncing off the walls from the flame.
Alright, it just might be a spirit. Of course the house Urahara gives him to stay in would be haunted. He’s going to give that man a piece of his mind when he sees him next!
He decided now is as good a time as any and grabbed his Ouija board and planchette. Might as well try to communicate with whatever has been watching him since he first got there.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment, gathering his thoughts and energy. He opened his eyes and placed his fingers gently onto the planchette. “Is anyone here with me right now?” he asked into the silence. The planchette doesn’t move. He waited a moment before asking another question.
“Did you die in this house?” Maybe a bit of a personal question, but he’s hoping to get a reaction. Still nothing. He hummed and then said, “You know, you don’t have to be shy. I’m not going to hurt you, and I’m going to be here for a while so might as well introduce yourself.”
The planchette wobbled a bit, almost like the spirit was deciding whether or not to give in. “That’s it,” Grimmjow said. “What’s your name?”
He waited for a response. He could feel the tension in the air, sweat dripping down his brow. Whatever was there with him was clearly deciding whether to answer the question. Finally, the air grew cold; he could see his breath. He felt as if something was sitting across from him now. Slowly, the planchette glided across the board. “I”... “C”... He watched with bated breath. “H”... “I”... “G”... “O”.
“Ichigo?” he asked. “Is Ichigo your name?” This wasn’t his first rodeo, but he always became a bit excited when he received answers. The planchette was moved to “YES”.
“So your name is… Strawberry?” he asked with a smirk. In a second, the board was flipped, the planchette being sent across the room. “Jesus fuck!” Grimmjow yelled out. “The fuck was that for?!”
He felt breath on his ear and froze. “Asshole,” was whispered into his ear. He couldn’t make out the voice, whether it was male or female, angry or happy or sad. It was just a monotone whisper. But despite that whisper not having any inflection, he could tell he probably pissed off this spirit. Oops.
“Okay, okay. Chill,” he said to the clearly upset spirit. “I’d like to get some sleep now, so say goodbye and we can pick this up later.” He felt eyes on him, contemplating. “Look, I won’t be able to sleep with you glaring holes into me all night. I told you already I’m gonna be here for a while. We have plenty of time to talk.”
He felt some of the tension in the air slip away. He picked up the planchette from where it went flying, and straightened out the board. “Okay, goodbye,” Grimmjow stated, pointedly looking at the board. The planchette slowly neared the word, but hovered a bit. “Come on, ya asshole ghost! I meant what I said. We’ll talk more.”
The planchette was picked up and slammed onto the word “GOODBYE” and Grimmjow laughed. “Aggressive, much? Later, Ichigo.” Grimmjow packed up the board and planchette, and blew out the lamp. He laid back down onto the futon, this time feeling much more relaxed. Whoever this spirit was, they were a feisty one. He might get some entertainment out of this. He fell asleep to the sound of owls and crickets outside the house.
~ * ~ * ~ *
Grimmjow woke feeling rested. He checked his cheap flip phone Urahara gave him to keep in contact. No new messages and the time is 9:02 AM. He laid there for a moment, then noticed a feeling of being watched again. “Is that you, Ichigo?” he asked into the silence of the room. He didn’t receive a verbal reply, but he felt a pressure on the futon letting him know something was there.
He sat up and began getting ready for his day, constantly feeling a presence next or near to him. He didn’t mind, but he wished he knew more about this spirit. Maybe the next session would reveal some more answers other than the thing’s name.
He prepared himself a meal and sat at the small table with a book on spirits. Specifically summoning them in their physical forms. There were several spells for summoning a spirit into showing itself, and several more for communication, banishment, and purification. He bookmarked a spell to try later after he picked up some more supplies from Urahara’s shop. He hadn’t been able to bring a lot with him, after all.
He ran a hand through his blue hair and called Urahara. He picked up after the second ring.
“Grimmjow-san~! I see you’ve settled in. How is the house treating you?” he heard Urahara ask. He could hear the smile in his voice.
He grunted. “It’s fine. Didn’t tell me it’d be haunted, though.”
“Ooh, have you met our resident spirit? He’s usually much more shy. It takes a full day for him to warm up to newcomers,” Urahara spoke excitedly. So the spirit is a male. Interesting.
“What do you know about him?” Grimmjow asked, hoping for some more details about his roommate.
“I feel like those are questions you should ask him yourself,” Urahara replied, still sounding pleased with himself. Grimmjow just grumbled and accepted that he wouldn’t be getting any answers from this asshole.
“Fine, whatever. I’ll be swinging by later for supplies.”
“Hai, hai~! Please bring your tarot deck. You have a few sessions today, Grimmjow-san.” Grimmjow rolled his eyes but agreed anyway. He snapped his phone shut, putting it in his pocket.
He felt a presence hovering behind his right shoulder and said into the empty space, “I’m going to be leaving soon. I’ll be gone for a few hours, but I’ll be back. We’ll continue where we left off.” He turned around to face nothing, but the presence was still there. “Sounds good? Knock once for yes. Twice for no.” One knock sounded on the dining table. He smirked. “Cool. See ya, Ichigo.”
He pocketed his wallet and keys and threw on a jacket since the weather was getting chillier.
He closed the door behind him and set off for Urahara’s shop.
~ * ~ * ~ *
The bell above the door tinkled happily to signal Grimmjow’s arrival. The little shop was packed to the brim with all sorts of different curios; crystals, books, Ouija boards, pre-made spell jars, salt and so much more. It smelled like incense, strong and smoky. He noticed a slender form wearing a green bucket hat and coat with sandals messing with some things on the shelves.
“Oi!” he called out to him.
“Oh, Grimmjow-san! Hello!” greeted Urahara. “Your first client will be here in about an hour. You can take that time to shop.” Grimmjow grunted in response and made his way through the small store. He already knew what he needed: candles, salt for summoning and protection circles, some rose quartz, some small jars, and some herbs. He collected what he needed and made the purchase. He sat around shooting the shit with Urahara until his client came in.
It was a young woman in her 20s wanting to ask about love as they always did. Grimmjow withheld a groan and brought her to the table. A few hours and a few clients later, Grimmjow was done and spiritually exhausted. Tessai, Urahara’s assistant, brewed him some energy tea before he left to go back to the house.
~ * ~ * ~ *
When he entered the house, it was completely dark. He lit the oil lamps as he went through to the living area with the fireplace and table. He gathered his supplies, altar and books and placed them all around him. He lit some candles and set up his Ouija board onto the table as well. Immediately, he felt a presence to his right.
“Told ya I’d be back,” he said to who he assumed to be Ichigo. “Ready to continue?” He heard a knock on the table and smiled a toothy grin. “‘Atta boy! Let’s get this shit rolling.” He sat still for a moment, gathering his energy around him again. He breathed deeply, in and out, in and out. He shook out his shoulders and placed his hands onto the planchette.
He felt the presence shift from beside him to across from him on the other side of the table. Polite spirit. There were a lot of things he wanted to know, but what should he ask? He furrowed his brow and thought for a moment.
“How old are you?” he asked. The planchette began to move faster than it did the night before. Clearly the spirit felt more comfortable in his presence than before. The planchette hovered over the number 1 and then slid to the number 9. “Nineteen?” he asked Ichigo. The planchette moved to the “YES”. Grimmjow frowned. He had died young. He wanted to know how he died, but didn’t know how to broach the question without sounding like a complete dickhead. He kind of had a rapport with this spirit; he didn’t want to ruin it with an insensitive question.
He tried to think of something else to ask so he went with, “How many of you are there?” The planchette hesitated, and then moved to the number 1 and stopped. “Just you?” More hesitation and then, “YES”. “Did you have a family?” he asked. The planchette moved away slightly and then back over the “YES”. So he wasn’t alone in life at least. That made Grimmjow feel a little better about the situation.
“Where are they now?” He felt this might be a sensitive question, but he was curious why Ichigo was the only spirit haunting this house that clearly had a family living in it. “G”... “O”... “N”... “E”.
“Gone…” Grimmjow muttered to himself. Gone as in moved on, or gone as in abandoned him? He decided not to ask. He could feel the melancholy in the air. He tried to think of some more lighthearted questions. “Hey, what’s your favorite food?” The planchette stutters and then spells out “KARASHI MENTAIKO”.
“Oh, you like spicy food, huh?” Grimmjow had a grin on his face without even realizing it. He’d spoken to his fair share of spirits, but he never enjoyed it like he was now. Usually he was trying to purify or banish spirits haunting families, but he didn’t want to do that to this spirit.
The planchette moved to “YES”. The melancholy seemed to have cleared and with it came some lighthearted energy. “If I call you Strawberry, are you gonna flip my board again?” he asks with a chuckle. He can almost feel Ichigo stiffen with indignation. “I’m kidding. Obviously that’s not what your name stands for.” He decided to call it quits for the meantime.
Ichigo agreed more easily this time and said “GOODBYE” on the board. Grimmjow continued his reading from earlier that morning, wanting to find more spells having to do with the manifestation of spirits. He wanted to see what this boy of 19 years looked like.
A few hours of flipping through his texts later and he’d bookmarked quite a few different spells. He set up the tools and supplies he needed for the spell. “Oi,” he spoke to the empty room. He felt like someone was looking at him now. Good, he had his attention. “I’m gonna try something. It won’t hurt you or anything. I just want to see if I can make it so I can see you and hear you. If this is okay, knock once. If it’s not, knock twice.” Even he can respect a spirit’s boundaries.
It’s silent for a moment. He doesn’t know if Ichigo will be okay with this or not, but he hoped so. He wanted to know what this spirit looked like in life, wanted to know what his voice sounded like. He was so curious, he could feel himself getting more and more excited. Finally, one knock rang out. He waited for the second one, but it never came. He thanked Ichigo for his cooperation and trust, and got to work on the spell.
He asked Ichigo to stand in a specific spot, and he drew a circle with chalk around that spot. He followed the instructions in his book to the T, reciting the incantation perfectly. The last step is to put an extremely small drop of blood into the circle as a catalyst. Grimmjow did so, taking a knife to the tip of his finger and letting the blood drop into the circle. The chalk began glowing, and ancient runes lit up outside of the circle.
“This is supposed to happen,” he reassured Ichigo. He waited for the glowing to stop, and eventually it did. The runes faded to nothingness again, as if they were never there to begin with. The circle’s glow diminished, and Grimmjow waited with bated breath. Slowly, very slowly, a figure began to emerge where the circle was, starting with the feet.
Ichigo’s feet were bare. His body became more and more revealed, showing that he was dressed in a sleeping yukata, long orange hair over his shoulder. Grimmjow watched as the face of a young man was revealed to him. He had a straight nose, pretty lips, and striking brown eyes. The boy was a few centimeters shorter than him, he noticed.
Ichigo looked down at himself, seeing himself for what seemed like the first time in a very long while. Grimmjow watched, entranced. This boy, this man… was absolutely stunning. Ichigo looked up again and made eye contact with Grimmjow. They stared for what felt like hours, taking in the other’s appearance.
Finally, Ichigo spoke. “Hello.” Grimmjow’s eyes widened. It worked. The spell worked! He had done everything correctly, but still. Magic can be very tricky. He was incredibly proud of himself for pulling this off.
“Ichigo,” he stated. “My name is Grimmjow.” Ichigo smiled wide, a dimple appearing on his cheek. Grimmjow’s heart fluttered. Ah, shit. He’s cute too. Grimmjow thought to himself. He sat himself back down next to the table, and Ichigo followed suit. Now that he had the spirit in front of him, in the “flesh”... he didn’t know what to say or do. They continued to stare for another few minutes, then finally Grimmjow said, “Well, I’ve been doing most of the talking. It’s your turn. Any questions for me?”
Ichigo looked down at his lap, brow furrowed thoughtfully. He faced Grimmjow again and asked him, “What are you doing here? My house has been empty for a long time.”
Grimmjow supposed he should have expected that question. "I got into a little bit of… trouble. An acquaintance of mine owns this property now. He's letting me stay here as long as I keep the place clean and help him at the shop." Ichigo raised his eyebrow at this.
"Trouble?" he asked. Grimmjow nodded, not really wanting to give details about another witch cursing him.
Instead he just said, "I'm a witch. We deal with the supernatural and everything in between. Some of us aren't nice. I got mixed up with some of them. That's all." Ichigo nodded and didn't say anything else. Then:
"Who's your… acquaintance that owns my house now?"
"His name is Urahara Kisuke," Grimmjow replied. "He owns a metaphysical shop." Ichigo squinted at him.
"That name sounds familiar, but I can't place it." Ichigo was salient after that.
They sat in comfortable silence, thinking their own thoughts. Eventually Grimmjow said, "I know this might be a sore spot. But why are you the only spirit lingering here?"
Ichigo's shoulders hunched, a look of dread coming over his face. "I think… I think it's because I'm the only one that saw who killed us. I saw their face. I knew them." Grimmjow's eyes widened. Ichigo was murdered? By someone he knew. The thought sickened him.
"That's probably why. I knew who it was, so now I feel trapped. My family moved on immediately. I've been here ever since."
Grimmjow asked, "And when was this?" He dreaded the answer.
"1910," Ichigo answered. "I don't know what year it is now. Just that a lot of time has gone by. Your clothes are different. That contraption you used this morning to talk to that Urahara. All of it. I know that means time has passed." He looked down at the hands folded in his lap.
"You haven't talked to anyone this whole time," Grimmjow asked in disbelief. "No one's been here before now?"
"Someone has…" Ichigo said slowly. "But I can't remember what they look like or who they were. My memory of them is… fuzzy."
After that, neither of them said a thing. Eventually, Grimmjow packed up his things and got ready for bed. Ichigo lingered around him, never saying a thing. They both had too much to think about.
Grimmjow crawled into his futon, about to blow out the lamp. Ichigo stood by the futon, twiddling with his fingers. "Spit it out, Ichigo," Grimmjow said. Ichigo looked startled to be spoken to, then looked back down and away.
"Could I… sleep with you? It's been awhile since I've even been near another person. And whatever you did seems to have made it so I can touch solid objects without phasing through like before so…" he trailed off.
Grimmjow thought about it. Yeah, he'd just met the kid, and yeah it's a little weird to be sharing a bed with a ghost. But, hey. He's an interesting kid. He's cute, feisty and easy to talk to. What would be the harm?
Grimmjow lifted his blanket. "Get over here," he said gruffly. Ichigo lit up, a little smile gracing his features. He climbed in next to him. He felt solid next to Grimmjow, but didn't give off any body heat. It was a little weird, but he figured he'd get used to it.
They tossed and turned to get comfortable and eventually they ended up with Grimmjow hugging Ichigo from behind. Ichigo snuggled closer, sighing contentedly. "Thank you, Grimmjow," Ichigo said sleepily. Huh, even spirits got tired.
"Don't mention it. Night, Ichigo." From this point forward, Grimmjow decided he wanted to learn everything there was to know about this Ichigo person. What his favorite book was, did he like sports, what did he do for fun when he was alive, what happened to him. Everything.
And maybe, just maybe, he'd find a way to free his soul from the gruesome reminder of his death.