Chapter Text
“Oh my god, are you—”
Frustrated, Jinta’s hands gripped his bright red hair as he stared at the poorly stocked display cases. Various bottles were crammed in between cans and boxes, some half opened, their contents spilling onto the tatami floor. “Dammit! Where’re you two knuckleheads at?”
The sliding door to the back rooms opened timidly, two freckled faces peering out fearfully. The one on top was pudgy, with ginger hair sticking out in every direction, large green eyes glistening. The one below it was thinner, with longish, thin blonde hair trailing down his shoulders.
Clearing his throat, the thinner one spoke first. “Y-yes, Jinta-san?”
Jinta glared at them, pointing wildly at the messy display. “I told ya two to NEATLY arrange these products! Make ‘em look presentable!” One of the bottles slid out of its precarious hold, falling to the ground with a crunch. “It looks like CRAP! Now it’s gonna take twice as long to get it even looking half as good as it did. How have you two not picked up any skills while working here for 6 months already? What do we pay you idiots for, huh?”
Blue eyes narrowed, the thinner man muttered, “ Were they ever paying us? ”
“We’re s-sorry, Jinta-san,” the larger man said, swallowing back his fear. “We’ll get it c-cleaned up right away.”
Reaching down, Jinta gathered as much of the broken and loose product as he could before standing back up. “You two’re gonna clean all this up,” he said harshly, small particles falling from between his fingers. “I’ll get ya some supplies. But I’ll be the one to set it up this time.” He slid open the door to the halls, calling back, “Don’t touch anythin’ till I get back, ya hear me?”
The two men entered the shop as the coast became clear, walking over to the mess. “You should’ve listened to me, Dondochakka,” the smaller man said, wagging a long finger in the larger man’s direction. “I told you the sprinkling method wasn’t going to cut it!”
Dondochakka sighed, his large hands on his face. “I thought I was doin’ it right,” he whined. “Jinta-san didn’t really give us any directions. Just said ‘ make it look pretty ’ or whatever.” He shrugged sadly, shoulders sagging after. “What’re we gonna do, Pesche?”
“We’re going to clean it, that’s what!” Puffing out his chest, Pesche’s blue eyes shone. “We’ll clean it so good that Urahara-san will tell Nelliel-sama we were great helpers.” His eyes flickered at the mention of Nel, brows falling. “She’ll… be very proud of us.”
“You’re missin’ her, ain’t ya?”
“Wh-what? I’m fine, you big weirdo.”
Patting Pesche on the back, Dondochakka tried soothing him. “I miss her too, ya know.”
Turning away, Pesche wiped his face. “D-don’t take this the wrong way! I know she’s alright. I just…”
It was at that moment the shop front door opened, the early morning light filtering in. A group of four entered the shop, the first person tall enough that the two Fraccion could somewhat make out their faces. Yellow-blond hair trailed gracefully as they moved, shoulders held high, olive skin glistening and warm.
Dondochakka and Pesche exchanged wide-eyed glances, realizing who it was. “Is that really…?”
“It has to be! Don’t you sense her presence? Who else could it be?”
The woman stopped before them, standing tall as they cowered behind the display case. Aqua eyes stared them down, expressionless as she waited. Then, she finally spoke. “I thought I sensed you both here.” Her voice was even, soft but resonant. “Admittedly, it was a little hard to find you, given the former Shinigami’s tricks, but he managed to leave some clues behind.”
“L-Lady Harribel!” The words came out choked as Pesche and Dondochakka clung to each other. “I-I-It’s lovely to s-see you! What brings you here?”
A groan of disgust could be heard from behind Harribel, and three more faces appeared, hovering above them. “We find these two vermin and not Jaegerjaquez and Lady Nelliel?” Heterochromatic eyes narrowed as Apacci leaned over them, glaring. “How typical.”
“I’m actually surprised we found two weaklings like them first.” Her strong voice carrying through the building, Mila Rose placed her hands on her hips, surveying the empty store. “With chaotic presences like Grimmjow’s, you’d think he’d be easy to spot.”
“Perhaps they simply do not wish to be found.” From behind her sleeve, Sun-Sung’s gentle voice could be heard. “Maybe they are hiding from us for a reason.”
Striding confidently around the display, Harribel made her way to the cashier’s counter. “Whatever the reason, we must find them.” She looked back at her Fracción, who had stood up by then. “Where is Urahara Kisuke? I wish to speak with him immediately.”
Dondochakka and Pesche couldn’t react at first, frozen in fear.
Aqua eyes darkened, narrowing as she stared them down. “I will not ask again.”
“Y-yes, Lady Harribel!” Pesche managed, springing to action. “Right away!” Dondochakka was on his heels, the two disappearing into the back hallways and leaving the Espada in the storefront.
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Ass sore and soaking from the mud collecting on his jeans, Ichigo watched Grimmjow fly across the park structures. They’d come back here numerous times since the first disaster of what the family calls, “Their Readjustment Period TM .”
The rain had stopped recently, leaving the air clear and crisp. Ichigo wanted to call for Grimmjow to come to him so they could leave, but Grimmjow had selective hearing, so the weary babysitter simply watched and waited.
It didn’t take long for the mini-Espada to start injuring himself.
Scrapes here and there, the occasional bruise, but no bleeding cuts. Ichigo would’ve drawn the line there.
Instead, he can’t take his eyes away from the moment after Grimmjow falls and tears up a bit from hurting himself. He growls, stares down the area he fell, and then launches into the next structure with a vengeance as if to prove himself.
So prideful even now, with no memories of a past to hold you down, huh?
But Ichigo couldn’t help the pang of envy within him. Someone like Grimmjow would've been a good match for his own childhood self, one riddled with loneliness and fear. Not the bravery that everyone exalted him for.
Or had.
Once did.
Flashes of waving, smiling, supposedly grateful faces of swarming shinigami crossed his vision.
Our hero , they’d said. We will never forget your acts of service , they’d promised.
And still, 6 months out with neither hide nor hair of a shinigami. Hardly any interaction from any spiritual being before the toddler espada were bright in.
A flash of sky blue came into view before a mud pie with sticks and a small rock made impact with his temple.
“Always keep an eye on your surroundings, newb!”
Ichigo was still just as stricken at the sight of flaming blue eyes sneering at him, feet apart in a power pose too confident for a normal 10 year old.
I wonder if we would’ve been friends if we’d grown up together...
Ichigo speculated about mud fights and river side adventures, a pair of tan hands holding one another in company.
He seems like the type who would’ve tried to take my lunch money, though.
He can’t help the chuckle at the thought. Grimmjow, at his core, was about strength. If he stayed around, it’d be because he saw strength in you and nothing else.
How he’d adapted to his new threat level made Ichigo pause.
Even in his small, weakened form, Grimmjow’s head was unbowed and his mouth just as sharp. He worked with what he had, while pushing the boundaries of training and healing to give himself more, always more. Even if it was likely he would never be the same. Even if he could be broken. Like us, a bittersweet voice purred in spiteful satisfaction.
He swallowed the shame that crept over him, refusing to accept the feelings as his own.
Grimmjow never seemed weak. Weakness on him slid off him with ease. No matter how many stronger enemies and wannabe-gods Ichigo had faced, Grimmjow was his rival and equal, always.
Maybe in another life, they could have been allies.
But Ichigo could never look away from the wily blue disaster that stood before him now, with his ruffled hair and daring grin.
“Grimm, it’s getting late. We need to head home.”
Home belonged to both of them now.
A place once where he’d avoided his family’s awkward pitying expressions out of shame, in denial of the new roles Karin took in his place, now home was where Nel played games with Karin or stole stickers from the clinic while Grimmjow helped Yuzu make dinner or built pillow forts ( it’s a nest, carrot top! ) in his room.
Now the pillows smelt like rain and mint. Sometimes fishy when Grimm got lazy about showering like the nasty kid he was. But Ichigo couldn’t complain.
His friends commented about how his face had brightened and his shoulders sat relaxed in class. How he could look people in the eye now.
He started eating with them again and talking about his babysitting adventures.
Chad hummed in welcome, nothing overwhelming or overstated.
Inoue chirped excitedly about how her new Mayo fish veggie patties were still warm.
“Would you like some Kurosaki? Have you been eating well?”
“I’m good Inoue. I actually loaded up earlier with Grimmjow’s crab cakes before leaving the house.”
That was something hard to explain.
Uryuu huffed and hawed but eventually backed down, despite his reservations about Ichigo allowing “those despicable creatures” into his home. The way he couldn’t keep eye contact showed how much his guilt made him back off though.
It didn’t sting with the same potent bitterness as before.
Yeah, I can work with this.
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Cold and unyielding as the bone mask she wore, Harribel’s steely aqua eyes greeted him in his very own front yard.
Ah, so she didn’t die after all.
Urahara kept his movements open, treading with enough force to creak old floorboards and keeping his hands visible. No point in poking sticks at sharks so soon.
“How may this humble shopkeeper help the illustrious former Tres Espada?” he said, bowing slightly.
But Harribel wasn’t having any of it. Her gaze was pointed. “Enough of your false pleasantries, Shinigami. I come to you as the new Queen of Hueco Mundo, and as such, I demand the return of the remaining Espada into our custody. Nelliel and Grimmjow both are of my domain and will no longer remain guinea pigs of whatever asinine experiment you are conducting. If you wish this visit to remain civil, I suggest you comply urgently.”
Truly spoken with power . Ah, a woman after my own heart.
“Why, Harribel-sama, surely we can continue to discuss this delicate matter inside?” Urahara said, trying to keep the tone light. “Tell me, do you prefer green or black tea? I’ve got some simply lovely varieties, you must try it!” Urarhara clumsily gestured as blonde locks fell into his eyes.
“Urahara. You do not appear surprised by my presence here.”
“Well, your death wasn’t exactly confirmed, per se. It’s as the saying goes, ‘a person’s not dead unless you see the corpse,’ or something along those lines.” Urahara failed to miss a beat in their exchange.
Harribel barely refrained from scowling at the insubstantial response. “Of course. That's also why you have scanners and devices around Hueco Mundo and Las Noches. There is a precedent for what happens when shinigami delve too far into the realm of Hollows, as you already should be aware of.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “How are your Visored companions?”
Urahara let out a light hearted chuckle, despite the rising tensions. “My, my, your concern is touching, but rest assured I merely have been researching the balance between the realms since the end of Aizen. However, the recent reishi fluctuations in Hueco Mundo have been rather concerning. Do you have any idea what could be causing that?”
“That is not any of your business, Shinigami. You should not be in our territory to begin with. You say you aren’t like Aizen, but your cold, calculative demeanor is the same, though your face is different. Tell me, do you really have the restraint to prevent yourself from going down a similar route?”
The ensuing battle of wits and diplomacy revolved around them demanding answers while refusing to give ground. Neither revealed much information through their verbal foray of jabs and half-answers.
After an hour of tense debate, the door slammed open, revealing the little green-haired Arrancar, flanked by her twitchy fracción. “Hey! Do I know you?”
All activity and debate froze mid-sip. Anticipation buzzed in the room.
Harribel’s order was terse. “Secure Nelliel.”
Chaos broke out.
“Yes, Harribel-sama!”—“Sorry, but I simply can’t allow that”—“Damn, Shinigami!” — “Nelliel-sama!”—
“Who, me?”
“Hally-bell? Who are ya? Are ya here to play tag? Or are ya here to get medicine from Bucket face too?”
“What is the meaning of this? Why doesn’t Nelliel recognize her fellow Espada?”
“Well, you see, this humble shopkeeper has been healing—“
“Harribel-sama, it appears that Nelliel-sama has been handicapped. These shinigami simply have an obsession with Hollow experimentation, don’t they?”
At that moment, Kisuke remembered his one true weakness: de-escalation. Quickly, chaos unfolded in the Shoten as jabs led to strikes then lightning bolts to, ultimately, ceros and a collapsed candy store.
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Kurosaki Household, Same Time
“ Oi , Ichigo! My dang shirt ripped again!”
“Dammit Grimm, that’s the third one this month!”
Ichigo was blinded by a foul sweat-soaked green tank top covering his face and offending his sensibilities. It had been a soft cotton rayon blend for exercise and play, guaranteed to last. In reality, it’d had a feeble lifespan of 2 weeks before Grimmjow managed to mangle, rip, and stain this shirt beyond recognition.
“And it’s never a small tear either. It’s like you’re trying to win some zombie cosplay contest with your clothes always in tatters like this.”
Or worse, the neighbors will think we’re raising future streakers in this household and corrupting youths.
Yuzu won’t want to mend this again…
“Hey brat, let’s go shopping!”
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God dammit, how can he run so fast in those stubby little legs?
Ichigo swiped his hands roughly across his face as he gathered himself. He’d been enjoying watching Grimm trying to guess the purpose of electronic devices while window shopping in the area. When he started rambling that the Roombas were likely devices for home security and espionage, Ichigo was laughing too hard to notice he’d lost his rebellious charge.
Now Ichigo breathed deeply, controlled and paced, as recommended by the mental health articles his sisters made Grimmjow read for anger management.
Though he staved off the simmering threat of drowning panic, Ichigo’s dread and worry continued to build as no snarled response of “quit ya yappin’ Ichigo” answered his increasingly desperate pleas.
I knew I should’ve taken the baby leash.
Suddenly, a trash can fell over—no, not fell over, was knocked over by something, with unmistakable claw marks crushing its frame to the ground.
A Hollow.
He couldn't see the Hollow, but it was here. Somewhere. Anywhere. And he still hadn’t found Grimmjow.
His legs took off without question, his rusty battle readiness spread calm control throughout his limbs. He followed the trail of destruction towards the park, gaining speed with each adrenaline-fueled step.
“Ichigo!”
Breath caught in his lungs, Grimmjow was running and dodging an invisible enemy. Not invisible to Grimmjow, but very real either way.
Self-pity flooded Ichigo as he watched, unsure of what to do. His lack of powers, his lack of ability to even visualize the threat grated on his very bones.
Weakling. Useless. You’re gonna lose someone again while you’re watching, helpless to save them.
Grimmjow was heaving with harsh breaths. He couldn’t use his full strength or abilities in his healing gigai and his adult form was unpredictable though it’d been appearing more frequently in the last two months.
He was handicapped with no backup. Where the hell is everyone during a Hollow attack in the shopping district?
The sting of helplessness made Ichigo nauseous. Was he just going to watch and hope Grimmjow would hold it off until help arrived? What the point of him being here if—
The sound of cracking bone and splintering wood drove ice into Ichigo’s veins
“GRIMM—“
He ran, doubt be damned as his strode to where the little Arrancar was flung into a tree.
I don’t care if I’m weak. I don’t care if I don’t have my powers. I’m not just gonna stand back and be helpless.
He spotted the shifting dust a few meters from Grimmjow’s body and pushed his legs to sprint faster than he’d ever managed in his human body, scooping up Grimmjow’s body before turning in the direction of the Shoten.
Grimmjow was breathing harshly, blurry-eyed, with blood dripped down his chin from his mouth and his legs dangling limply at repulsive angles. The blotchy purpling of bruises from the internal bleeding appeared quickly on his skin.
But he was still conscious. He was breathing. He could be saved.
“Ichi..?” His voice was the softest whisper Ichigo had ever heard.
If he couldn’t see or hear the Hollow, he’d just have to look out for the signs of its presence… or have Grimm watch his back while he kept his eyes forward and raced to Urahara.
If only I could call someone… but I can’t get any real distance between us, or know if it’s safe to take my phone out. I just have to make it work. I’m going to protect him.
“I won’t let anything happen to you while I’m here, Grimmjow. You hear me? So you better hang tight cuz I’m gonna need your help. I need you to be my eyes.”
Glancing over his shoulder, Ichigo tried to keep an eye and ear out from the sounds of crumbling structures or unnaturally breezes as he sprinted down the alleyways and behind stores, determined to keep the public from danger.
“I need you to lean over my shoulder and keep your eyes out for the Hollow. I can’t see it but you can. Grimm, you gotta stay awake.”
Grimmjow whimpered softly, hefted over his shoulder, but didn’t argue.
“Ichi, it’s coming up on the left!”
“It’s crawling along the roofs of the pet store-“
“Duck!”
“Turn left! Now!”
“Put your back into it, Carrot Top!”
Good to know he’s holding on just fine.
The Hollow wasn’t particularly high level or strong, judging by the speed and dexterity it displayed. It was the type he could have easily eliminated with a single swing at his former state. Frustration warred with relief and hope that he’d save Grimmjow. As weak as his opponent appeared, the battle was just as real and his battle senses were at peak levels with the imminent danger looming above him.
Ichigo quickly grew attuned to Grimmjow’s small jerks and shifts in his arms to keep track of the Hollow and adjusted seamlessly. His reactions were instant as Grimmjow called out directions.
Soon enough, the familiar block of the Shoten was almost upon them, almost there—
“Behind you!!”
Grimmjow gripped his sweater in a white knuckled hold in a way that told Ichigo instantly—the Hollow was right behind him, and there was no escaping the blow.
Ichigo moved Grimmjow directly into his arms and hunched his back to protect him from the inevitable blow.
At the first feeling of claws tearing into his back, he thought of how familiar the pain was, nostalgic almost—until the full force and pain hit.
He choked on his pained cry and was barrel rolled with the momentum of the attack, accidentally crushing Grimmjow to him in the process. At the sound of Grimmjow’s scream, he silently begged forgiveness.
Knowing he couldn’t get up in time, he covered Grimmjow under him, determined to be his shield in any way necessary before he let danger come to his friend.
And waited.
And waited…
And waited?
What the hell is taking it so long?
Peeking up, he didn’t notice anything particularly off about the area.
Did it…go away?
“Ichigo!” Snapping his head up, he saw the glorious visage of Yoruichi, battle ready and badass.
“Yoruichi, did you kill the Hollow?” The orange haired boy looked around and quickly saw Tessai and Ururu and Jinta heading toward him. Urahara wasn’t around. Ichigo and Grimmjow had landed around the front of the Shoten in the midst of their scuffle.
But the Shoten looked wrecked right now. What the hell? Were there multiple Hollow attacks?”
“Not quite, Ichigo. You can thank our guests for that. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, but Grimm—“
His voice died in this throat as concerned tears blurred his vision. Grimm lay on the ground, bruised, bloody and broken. Now, he convulsed with large, twitching tremors, eyes rolled back and mouth opening in silent gasps as if suffocating.
“Grimmjow. Grimmjow. Grimmjow!”
All other noise fell silent in his mind beside this call. Ichigo’s throat burned as he unwittingly cried out just as fiercely, with just as much heartbreak.
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The sun was warm on his face. He was crying. He was angry that the sky looked so happy when he was in so much pain.
Grimmjow looked over at the echoing cries and shouts.
“Nikky, when’s Momma going to come back? Those men that took her, are they going to hurt her? Is she going to come back? I—I miss Momma.”
“I’ll get her back, Lizzy. I’ll bring her home.” The words came out of his mouth before he could notice. Reassurance without context, for people he didn’t know.
Then he turned and caught a vision in the cracked mirror in the hallway.
The same deep blue, ocean eyes. The same high cheekbones. Strong chin. Dimples. (2 of them!). That’s MY face. But…
He had the tanner, sun-kissed skin of someone who didn’t live under an eternal moon. Freckles, following the curve of his nose along his cheeks. And golden waves of hair, curled from sweat, flopped onto his face.
And it clicked.
Nicholas Jaeger. 21. Tall, but with hardly enough muscle to take down a group of criminals. An architecture student. Never been in a real fight in his life.
Elizabeth, his darling little sister, innocent to the world and barely started finishing school. Already an orphan of a once great clan.
We’re all that’s left now. It’s over now. Except it wasn’t. Their father had gone and saddled them with debt to the wrong people. When they came to collect, the vases and gold and paintings weren’t enough to cover the insult of running out on a debt to their generosity . They had to take the only thing of value to them.
Momma had been left as interest for the longstanding debt. But Grimmjow already knew what he, what Nicholas, would do.
I know how this is going to end. This is how I’m going to die.
The hardy stone-walled house they resided in was cold, dark and ransacked. The windows were shattered, letting in the early morning breeze. The dark wood halls of their luxurious two-story illuminated with warm light felt like a faraway fantasy.
Grimmjow— Nicholas had felt safe here once, protected in his fortress of thick stone walls, of his esteemed family name, of his riches and connections and good looks.
But it, like this house, was an illusion that crumbled apart in the span of a night. The men, dressed in dark purples and black trousers like bruises stormed the house, quickly and violently.
They smashed the windows with bats.
They shot the butlers and servants dead.
They paid off the local officer to turn a blind eye to the pleas for help.
And they frightened all his lily livered connections with promises of a visit for their families too, if they made a scene.
In the end, Nicholas had screamed and struggled and still watched as they knocked his mother unconscious and dragged her away, the cries of his sister—Elizabeth—Lizzy, sweet, smiling Lizzy—were a haunting soundtrack to his never-ending nightmare.
What was an untrained, formerly entitled heir to do in the face of such helplessness?
Prove that nothing could stand in his way, that’s what. Lack of knowledge, training, or help be damned.
Even so, Grimmjow re-lived his memories in shame. I was such a fool.
Even as he watched his actions, moved without control of his limbs and was forced to reenact a foolish ploy, he cried inside, Don’t! Don’t rush into this! Think about Lizzy, you can still have a life together. You don’t have the equipment or manpower! Wait!
But, his body still gathered his funds, sought out the information of back alley gatherings and dealings, researched the use of guns and weapons, and plotted his suicidal attempt at rescue. Suddenly, he was thinking and feeling all the dusty sensations he’d once felt then, drowning in his subversive memories.
Oh, how I thought myself so wise, so prepared for anything then. So assured of my victory, and that justice and fate stood on my side.
With only a few months of preparation, Nicholas left Lizzy with the meager remains of their family’s hidden funds in the care of distant cousins that hadn’t heard the news of their demise. Asking for care while he took on a work project in a foreign country.
He tracked down the Swiss headquarters of the Russian mafia that his father owed money to. It was pathetically easy to find a group that moved in plain sight. They were confident in their power and control over their territory. Everyone knew who and what they were. No one was brave or dumb enough to challenge them.
Nicholas came prepared with nothing else but 2 pistols, 3 hunting knives and 2 homemade grenades he had made with his engineering and chemistry degrees.
If nothing else, here was the birthplace of Grimmjow’s reckoning for destruction.
The innocence of youth quickly crumbled in the wake of his first kills. Why bother with subtlety in the face of monsters? I have to play dirty to win. I only care about saving Momma.
Nicholas strode right up in front of the speakeasy they were operating out of. It was afternoon hours before business typically started so Nicholas didn’t pause when he hurled a grenade straight through the window and ran for cover.
He, however, did not predict what the sight and smell and sound of destruction would feel like when it came.
The sea of red fed by dripping limbs.
The sound of pounding explosions that drowned out all other noise and seemed to freeze time until the cries of pain reached him again.
The smell, God, the smell of iron and salt permeating the walls.
No, he did not imagine the meaning of his undertaking until he had already taken the first step.
But I already knew this was a plan with no return. The only course of action is to continue.
Nicholas readied his pistols in shaking hands and stormed in.
They rushed him on both sides and caught his arm when he jabbed forward, reeled him forward and dislocated his shoulder. Nicholas faltered, and the searing pain blinded him long enough for another man to push him to his knees and take away his knives.
They beat their fury into his bones and painted their intent for revenge in bruises across his torso. But they still led him further into their den, down stairs and into underground hallways.
Eventually, he was brought into a main room, large and cold despite the torch lighting and extravagant carpet beneath his bloodied knees.
In front of him was a black hearted man with a cruel smile and plain face. Dull brown eyes and limp brown hair. Greasy face and big ears. He spoke in a drawling accent, butchering the native language with his foul voice and harsh tones.
“You have caused quite the problem for me. And after all the trouble your mother went through to keep you runts safe. Truly worthless, this family. But before I put this dog down, how about a demonstration?”
“Bring her in.”
Throughout it all, Nicholas glared daringly from the ground, refusing to give ground or show fear. He wanted to hail destruction on his enemies and had done so.
Until he spotted that first flash of long flowing long hair.
His mother.
Beaten, bloodied, battered. Hair limp and greasy, bruises framing her hollowed cheeks and red raw thighs. Ravaged .
He would kill them.
“Nikki? Nikki! What is this? Our deal was to leave my family in peace—“ SMACK.
He fought and struggled, but couldn’t break free. Couldn’t stop what was happening right in front of him.
“Damn bitch! Can’t even see that her mangey brats are the ones causing trouble for us honorable folk. I tried to take pity on you, but your blood is trying my patience. I am not a patient man.”
Each hit was a beat of reverberating flesh. Purple bloomed across those once beaming features, delicate skin marred and broken. Red trickles flowed where they were never meant to touch.
This helpless—this weakness only fed the fury and darkness within young Nicholas. Pushing for more blood, more misery.
Until one hand slipped through his captors’ grip. And reached for—
“Nikki!” He saw her crying blue eyes, still just as captivating as before. “Nikki, run, please! Please, get away from here! Please, please spare my son! Nikki, you need to protect Lizzy. Innocent Elizabeth, how will she survive without us, without at least one of her family to look after her.”
Lizzy… That’s right. I left her to do this…
Blue eyes looked back at one another. They were mirrors in the shades and tones of blue, but one was filled with frantic desperation and worry, vision blurred by tears, while the other remained distant in his thoughts, as if he were worlds away.
In reality, they were both still here, trapped in that dungeon reeking of piss and misery, still listening to the droning voice of that man.
“Ah yes, your dearest little sister. Poor thing, you know how few options there are for penniless girls like that, especially ones with such sweet faces as hers. How about you walk away from this and I give the rest of your family a chance to run off while you can.”
“Please Nikki, leave me here! It’s ok—“ Pleading blue eyes, stained with flecks of red. Mother? Her voice choked off, gurgling a mess of vowels. Her eyes lost their frantic desperation as they lost clarity.
What….
“Now, run along brat. Walk away and you can leave without the body bag. There’s nothing left for you to ‘protect’ here anymore. But don’t forget, I can always take more away if you try something like this again. Your tantrum cost me men, but all guns I can still replace. Your actions accomplished nothing and your mother will pay your debt for you, aren’t I being so forgiving?”
I don’t understand…..
Nicholas stared silently at the slumped figure of his mother, blood pooling around her, soaking into his clothes—rags more like. Lips parted, hair frizzled, and skin gaunt from malnourishment.
But she’d still pass for an angel. The bullet wound looks so small, almost imperceptible from the way she fell over.
It can’t be real…
Her chest stopped rising, not even a twitch of the finger to look out for. Nicolas’ eyes burned from his unending stare, worried he’ll miss the first sign of movement.
It’s not coming… She’s really—
“NO! No! I won’t forget this!”
“Someone hold the kid! What are you idiots thinking!”
But even in his grief, Nicholas had learned. He couldn’t simply walk away if he wanted them to pay. He had to give everything to pay them back.
He pulled a small trinket from his pocket. His last weapon.
His last grenade.
He pulled the pin and waited.
The explosion collapsed the underground tunnels, raining debris on top of fleeing mafia members. Screams echoed as the infrastructure crumbled apart on top of them.
In the main room, Nicolas was already a ghost, his spirit chain crumbling away just as quickly. His mother was nowhere in sight. She’s gone somewhere I can’t follow.
Instead, he was here with the bodies and souls of men marred in the same way he was. He grinned, malicious and manic. Unrivaled power flooded through him as he unleashed his emotions. He shot forward towards his main target, the man with limp hair and cold eyes.
And ripped his throat out with his last knife.
In that moment, things spiraled quickly: spirits screamed, chains disintegrated, bodies changed, and howls erupted.
A Hollow was born. Claws and fangs and spines protruding from his body. A true monster.
And his enemies were ravaged as promised.
><><><><><><><><><><><><><
Urghh…my eyelids are so fucking heavy.
Twitching the forsaken appendages only confirmed how glued shut they were by dried eye crust and exhaustion.
Laid in bed, Grimmjow could only cycle through the sights that flashed behind his eyelids. Of Nicholas. Of him , as a human. Of his family, Of his death. Of souls he had collected since. Of his Fracción. Of Aizen.
Of Ichigo.
Shit.
“Urghhhh. This is why I hate people. So damn complicated.”
The burly Arrancar grumbled with petulance as he rolled in his futon, shielded himself from the light and his flooding memories of his past. He was unsure of what to trust. The blood and pain. Sorrow and grief. Emotions so familiar and human in a way that made him shiver, whether from disgust or vulnerability he’d rather not think too hard about.
But that original need for revenge and power… that was not all consuming as it was in his memories, not anymore.
Furthermore, his body had an indescribable weight to it. A fullness so paradoxical to a Hollow’s existence, Grimmjow wondered if he had ever woken up from his dreamscape.
The soft sound of voices broke through the haze of his thoughts. Probably what woke me up. Damn shopkeeper’s got some explainin’ to do.
He trudged across the hallways and felt his footsteps, heavy and echoing. Firm and steady as he’d always been, but resounding too loudly in this empty hallway. Too tangible for a nightmare.
He wasn’t completely without direction. Fuzzy-edged memories slowly wound back into the forefront of his mind. Sights and sensations that had the weight of lived experience told him they were real . They were his .
A full dining table with people sat beside him on all sides.
A park lush with greenery and echoing with shrieks of childish excitement.
A set of hands that warmly ruffled his hair.
A feeling of flying, touching the sky.
A warm, tight embrace.
Different memories overlaid on one another, some crushing and excitable, others firm, tender, and full and unspoken sentiments.
Once he opened the door, he snapped back to attention, the sight before him throwing his thoughts into confusion.
Harribel sat in the room—alive—with her fucking Fracción harpies fawning over her on both sides, surprisingly well behaved. Their gazes were distant, calculating, except for the flicker of surprise upon his entrance. Urahara still had his infuriating, weasley smile on and his fan in hand. Cat lady still skulked in the back corner, lounging in a way that appeared relaxed and loose, but he could see her hunter’s grace, and knew she was ready to attack at a moment’s notice.
And Ichigo. That berry fucker sitting in some jeans and t-shirt between them like he was the only thing keeping this gathering from falling apart. Probably because he is.
Nel and the gang huddled together behind him, peering out from behind the safety of Ichigo’s sturdy shoulders.
The tension in the room had clearly been building long before he stumbled into it. So, a meeting? Between Urahara and Harribel. This oughta be good.
Grimmjow stomped across the wood flooring and plopped into the remaining cushion seat across from Ichigo. He didn’t acknowledge Harribel or Urahara, just kept staring at Ichigo.
A pause of silence compounded the tension settled in the room until Grimmjow finally turned to Harribel—
“How are you not dead yet, anyway? Coulda sworn I saw you swimming with the fishes.”
From Harribel’s direction, one of her harpies scoffed. “Bold of you to barge into this meeting that you had no prior knowledge of and demand to be a part of it.” Arms crossed over her chest, Apacci glared at Grimmjow, her heterochromatic eyes narrowed accusingly. “If you’re gonna be here, at least keep your mouth shut!”
He immediately snarled in her direction, ready to reassert his position over these fucking groupies to prove a point. Damn runts…
“Apacci.”
Even in her notably calm, even tone, the warning rang loud in Harribel's voice. Grimmjow noticed the sudden change in expression on Apacci’s face, watching her fall back in place in Harribel’s shadow. The clear dismissal of him as a threat in favor of Harribel raised his ire. Still not takin’ me serious, these stick in the mud weaklings haven’t changed a bit.
But his attention soon moved to Harribel, whose cold gaze lingered on him. “Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, I must admit we were all mildly surprised to learn of your survival after your battle with Kurosaki.” The words ‘ after your loss , were not said, but were clearly implied. Her words were sharp, cutting deep as she addressed him. “And rest assured, we have arrived to bring you back to Hueco Mundo, to our rightful domain.” Her eyes narrowed, the air thickening slightly. “But it would serve you well to remain silent as we finish these negotiations.”
The snarl turned into a full on grimace. “ My rightful domain , huh? Sounds like ‘my rightful place.” Grimmjow looked to the shopkeeper, who was staying uncharacteristically quiet, gray eyes watching from behind his hand-held fan. “And just who’re you to tell me my rightful place, Harribel?”
“That’s Harribel-sama to you, Jaegerjaquez!” one of the harpies cried out indignantly.
“Silence, Mila Rose.”
Once again, the harpies fell silent, staring maliciously, waiting to lunge again. The Bestias respected Harribel but they couldn’t understand why they needed to even play these Shinigamis’ games. They could nab Nelliel and Grimmjow and be done with it.
Why the discussions? The platitudes? The negotiations?
They simply couldn’t fathom Harribel-sama’s reasoning for delaying the plan.
With a measured sigh, Harribel glanced between Grimmjow and Nel, aqua eyes glistening. “It is an indisputable fact that you and Nelliel are tied to Hueco Mundo, as every Espada has been and always will be. Despite your own desires, you cannot stay here.”
“But why?” Nel beat him to the punch, her small whine carried through the wrecked shop, confusion, indignation and a hidden tether of fear, Grimmjow noted, sounded in the waiver of her voice. “Our friends are here. We’re happy here. Why can’t we?”
“Because, like all things, there is a balance that must be maintained in our world.” Harribel’s eyes met Grimmjow’s again this time, her even voice a bit lower. “With Aizen gone, we are left with a notable power vacuum. One that cannot simply be filled by just one Espada. And that is why I have come for the two of you. To bring you back.”
There was a ringing that grew in Grimmjow’s ears, growing louder and louder as Harribel continued speaking. His vision drifted, settling once again on Ichigo. Their eyes met, the Espada seeing the realization slowly take over the Shinigami’s face. To bring you back …
There had been a time when, long before Aizen arrived, he would have loved nothing more than to fill the seat at the top of Hueco Mundo’s hierarchy. He’d craved it, dreamt of it under that dark, endless sky. And now, all these months later, that dream had become nothing more than a hindrance. A long dried out fantasy he no longer entertained since almost losing everything because of Aizen.
“And that is not a problem, Lady Harribel.” Urahara spoke up at last, closing his handheld fan with an audible woosh and placing it back in his loose sleeves. “I will not stop you from taking them back to their stations back in Hueco Mundo. But you must understand where I am coming from.” He extended his hands towards Nel and Grimmjow. “They have established roots here as well. Is it not enough for you to consider that they should be allowed to visit?”
Immediately, the air around Harribel went cold, her piercing glare locking onto the shopkeeper. “That is out of the question. It would be inappropriate, and would leave us vulnerable during this time of reconstruction.”
Urahara’s head dipped a little, the shadow from the brim of his hat obscuring his eyes completely now. “Yes, I understand that. I wouldn’t suggest that they come back until your work is complete.” Then he lifted his head, meeting her head on. “I’m simply suggesting that, after all is settled back in Hueco Mundo, they be allowed to visit Karakura Town every now and again. Surely you can grant them that.”
“I am afraid I cannot.”
“What do you mean you can’t ?”
Ichigo’s voice startled everyone, especially Grimmjow. Lips parted in desperation, as if he had been fighting back against speaking the entire time, Ichigo jumped to his feet. His chest was visibly heaving, his breathing frantic. He looked far more terrified than Grimmjow had ever seen him before. Gone were those sure, confident eyes, replaced by fear and desperation. “If all you want is to bring Hueco Mundo back to order, and you need them to help you, then why won’t you let them come back?”
Stirring, Urahara tried to calm him down, reaching out for him. “Ichigo…”
But he pulled away, never once breaking his gaze on Harribel. “They don’t have to come back every week, or even every month. It could be once a year for all I care. But…” And here he paused, his eyes lowering. There was that deep sadness, mingling with his fear. “But not letting them come back…” His voice trailed off, his hands curling into fists.
The teenage soldier steeled himself with a breath, holding onto his memories of his time together with the arrancar, of Nel snickering with Karin after pranking him or Grimmjow’s soft eyes for those short moments he opened up under cover of night. He lifted his head to meet Harribel’s gaze head on.
“You say you despise Aizen’s tyranny and disruption of the balance between worlds, but all I’ve heard is how you’ll continue to rule with the same iron fist. If Arrancar and Shinigami and humans have a way of getting along and supporting the individual development of each of the worlds, what real problem can you have with that?”
SIlence answered his declaration. Offense. Shock. Amusement. Every expression appeared in the room as a response to this teenage human making demands. Ichigo simply plowed forward.
“If you say you’ll be a fair Queen, then as a leader how are you taking into account the happiness of those you expect to follow and sacrifice for you? What they want matters too, or do you think them lesser, not worth that respect?”
Tension rocketed up at that last statement, paralleled by the release of agitated reiatsu pressing down on the room.
“What Ichigo is trying to say,” Urahara chimed in quickly to save the negotiation and prevent more shop repairs bill, “is that it seems odd to not allow Grimmjow and Nelliel some freedom to come back here. Perhaps there is some agreement we can—”
The cold air around Harribel grew bitter, chilling Grimmjow to the bone. Even he knew it was a bad sign to push Harribel this far. His eyes narrowed. This ain’t good .
Endless bickering ensued, Grimmjow feeling the insides of his head throbbing with irritation. This’s pointless . He almost regretted sitting with them, fighting the urge to get up and leave.
“In order to maintain peace, we cannot have any more interference from outside influences, whether or not they are of Shinigami origin.”
Harribel’s words rang out like an alarm, causing Grimmjow to snap back into reality. Wait, what?
“But that was the Seireitei’s approach for thousands of years,” Urahara said matter of factly. “And I can attest that that strategy only harmed it after a while. It’s not a mistake that needs repeating.”
“We are nothing like the Shinigami.”
“Perhaps not, but isolation will ruin you just the same.”
The tension grew thicker as the pair continued to argue. Grimmjow’s frustration increased along with it. He noticed Nel in her corner, shifting her weight as she tried her best to keep quiet. But it was clear from the look on her face that she had something to say.
Harribel was doubling down now, shooting a distrustful glance towards the former Substitute Shinigami. “Furthermore, I find it rather inappropriate that you entrusted such important key players into the care of Kurosaki Ichigo.”
Shock crossed Urahara’s face briefly as he looked between Ichigo and Harribel. “I fail to understand why. I would assume you would trust me far less with attending to their needs.”
A small voice cut in before Harribel could say another word. “But Itsygo wouldn’t do anythin’ to hurt us!” On her feet now, Nel puffed up her chest, staring down Harribel with all the courage she could muster. “In fact, we all had so much fun with Ichigo! His whole family took real good care of me’n Grimmy, and it’s because of him that we’ve learned so much about this world!”
The final member of Harribel’s Fracción stood up, her sleeve draped over her mouth. “Do not speak over Lady Harribel,” Sung Sun chastised in her low voice. “It is best that you stay out of this.”
“She ain’t wrong, though.” Before Grimmjow had realized it, the words slipped out of his mouth. Despite being a person who had never really thought before speaking, Grimmjow could feel a sense of self consciousness about speaking up. His throat tightened as Harribel’s cold eyes snapped towards him again, but refused to show weakness in front of her. “He didn’t do anythin’ but keep us safe. Don’t see why yer so tryin’ to come down so hard on him.”
Her eyes widening a bit, Harribel spoke again, her tone taking a new edge. “This is merely for your safety,” she said. “You must understand—”
“But we don’t understand,” Grimmjow interrupted again, ignoring the danger he’d put himself in with his insubordination. “If Kurosaki was such a threat, do ya think we’d even be havin’ this conversation, Harribel?”
At that, the tension amongst the Tres Bestias snapped. Ready to pounce, Apacci slammed a fist onto the table so hard it splintered. She hissed, “THAT’S LADY HARRIBEL TO YOU!”
“ SHUT THE FUCK UP! ” Grimmjow spat back, peeling his lips back in a feral snarl. “If anyone should stay outta this conversation, it should be the three of ya!” His attention diverting back to Harribel, he continued, “The kid ain’t even got his powers. What’re ya so damn worried about?”
“Even if Itsygo did have his powers, he wouldn’t hurt us.” Nel’s expression was serious, less childlike now. “Back in Hueco Mundo, if he had wanted to kill us, he could’ve done so pretty easily.”
Grimmjow rolled his eyes. “Not easily, but sure, I guess,” he muttered.
With a sudden poof of smoke, Nel’s body shot up, revealing her adult form once again. “That’s beside the point, Grimm,” she said, giving him a pointed look.
Harribel was mildly taken aback by the sudden transformation, but it was her Fraccion that seemed the most disturbed by it. Mila Rose reached for her sword while Apacci and Sung Sun moved in to protect Harribel. But with the swift gesture of her hand, Harribel silently ordered them to dispel.
“So… you were merely hiding in that child form all this time. And for what?”
“I wasn’t hiding,” Nel said, shaking her head. “I was recovering . That’s why we were brought here.” She looked at Grimmjow now. “Right, Grimm?”
Grimmjow shrugged. “Yeah, for the most part.”
“Then the two of you should have no problem coming back with me.”
There was nothing stopping them from going, Grimmjow knew that. But he could not bring himself to agree, his eyes averting.
Harribel stiffed a bit, blue eyes lighting up with realization.
“Don’t tell me you two wish to stay here. Because I will not allow it.” Her voice was a harsh, brisk whisper. “I cannot allow such a thing.”
Quickly, Grimmjow waved her off. “Hell no, I ain’t askin’ to stay here. I ain’t stupid. But what we are askin’ is that we can come back from time to time.”
“And why would you want that? The World of the Living is no place for—”
Blue eyebrows furrowed, teeth gritting. “So what?” The words exploded out of him. “If I’m gonna be one of the top Espada, then stayin’ in a place like this’s good for me.” He shook his head. “Dunno… might learn somethin’. Build character or whatever.”
Harribel was eerily silent for a moment. Then she returned her attention to Nel. “And what about you, Nelliel?”
Nel’s expression softened, glancing around the room. “I…” Her eyes stopped on the now broken window behind her. “I feel… at home here. It’s as much a home to me as Hueco Mundo. We weren’t here long, but it was long enough that if I were to never come back, I don’t think that would settle right with me.”
“I see.” Harribel then stood up slowly, putting nearly everyone on edge. “Before I make up my mind, however, I would like to make one small request.”
Urahara nearly choked, suddenly remembering his ability to speak. “O-of course. Name it.”
“I would like a moment alone with Ichigo Kurosaki.” Aqua eyes shimmered as they landed on the confused Ichigo, who seemed to be at a loss for words. “I presume that is a reasonable request.”
There was an awkward moment, wherein all eyes locked on Ichigo. Then, standing up slowly, Ichigo cleared his throat. “That’s fine.”
“Ichigo,” Urahara’s voice was suddenly curt, posture suddenly straight. “You don’t—”
“It’s fine.” Ichigo’s voice wavered slightly. Before Ichigo spoke again, Grimmjow managed to catch the small glance the former Shinigami sent his way. “Let’s, uh… let’s go talk.”
His stomach dropping, Grimmjow suddenly felt like all the air was being sucked out of his lungs.
<<<<<>>>>>
There was a terrible lump in the back of Ichigo’s throat, and his mouth was dry. Outside of the badly damaged shop, the late afternoon breeze washed over him, gently rustling his orange locks. It did little to calm his nervousness as the Tres Espada led him to the alley behind the shop.
It wasn’t that Ichigo was afraid of being hurt by Harribel; in fact, there seemed to be no malicious intent in her request. Her demeanor was different from most other Espada he had met; a cool, stable presence that should intrigue him. A leader. A ruler. However, he knew that everything hinged solely on this interaction, and the weight of that sat heavy on his chest. He pressed his lips tightly, hands digging deep in his pockets, as he tried to keep his demeanor calm.
Once the sun was overshadowed by the buildings on either side, Harribel stopped, arms crossed loosely as she watched him silently for a moment.
“I must say, Kurosaki, that I had heard your name mentioned countless times within the walls of Las Noches, but to meet you here, after all is said and done…” Her eyes narrowed for a moment. He could feel her looking him up and down slowly, as if she were looking for something. “Perhaps you were not quite what I thought.”
Oh, great . Taking a deep breath, Ichigo shrugged mildly. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“ Disappointment is not the right term, no.” Harribel shook her head. “Perhaps intrigued is a better way to put it.”
“Oh… alright.”
“First, Aizen spoke of you with such vigor,” Harribel continued, “and now we have Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez and Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck supporting you in opposition to me, a fellow Espada. And, by appearance alone, I cannot gauge the validity of these claims.” She took a step towards him, beginning to loom over him. “Thus, the only thing I can do is speak to you directly.”
At first, the fear that had laid dormant began to arise, forcing Ichigo’s muscles to tense. What is she looking for? He had wondered, his head turning slightly. Her presence was suddenly suffocating, as if it dared him to stand up to her.
Then, a thought occurred to him.
Harribel did not indicate she wished to harm him, her stance static, unmoving. She was not goading him into a fight, as many others had before. No, it was very obvious now. “You’re worried about them.” Ichigo hadn’t intended to state it out loud, his eyes widening a bit as he saw Harribel react. “You’re worried that… I might hurt them?”
She stared at him for a moment, golden brows raising slightly. “Not that you would harm them.”
Ichigo tilted his head. “Then what?”
For a moment, a strange expression crossed Harribel’s face, breaking eye contact for the first time since she addressed him. The severe lines of her brow and mouth smoothed out as she asked, “You were the one who defeated Aizen, were you not?”, not looking up once.
“...Yes.”
“There is a cycle among those with power,” Harribel explained, “that I have witnessed for as long as I have lived.” As her eyes lifted again, Ichigo could have sworn he’d seen a hint of sorrow. “When one conqueror falls, the one who dethroned them often takes their place. Very little changes, besides the face on the throne, and the cycle continues until there is nothing left.”
Ichigo’s brows furrowed. “I’m not looking to take over Hueco Mundo.” He laughed stiltedly, feeling almost absurd saying it. “I mean, I don’t even have my powers anymore. I’m almost a normal human again at this point.”
“Perhaps,” she replied. “But I am almost certain you will regain them soon. Your spiritual presence alone tells me that you are growing. And once you regain your powers again, what do you plan to do?”
“I…” Ichigo blinked, taken aback by the question. “I guess I’d go back to protecting my friends. Protecting other people.” He rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging nonchalantly. “I never really had a plan to do anything more than that. Hell, I never really wanted to become a substitute Shinigami in the first place. But if you’re right, and my powers do return… I guess I’d just go on living my normal life. Just like I’ve always done.”
Harribel fell silent again, watching Ichigo with her intense gaze. Ichigo felt it burn into him, his discomfort rising. I fucked this up for sure, he thought. There’s no way…
“I see.”
Her voice startled him, his body stiffening. “You… do?”
“It is… uncommon to meet someone with powers like yours who has little to no desire to do anything short of changing the world to fit their own vision.” Her words were slow, pensive. “Perhaps it is because you are so young.”
Not sure if that’s supposed to be a compliment…
“And perhaps your goals will change as time goes on,” Harribel continued, “but even so, I believe it would be a waste to not keep an eye on this part of the World of the Living.” She began to walk past him, her pace slow and precise. “Yes, I think I have made my decision.” She turned her head, looking back to a confused Ichigo. “Thank you for your help, Ichigo Kurosaki.”
What the hell? “Y-You’re welcome?”
“Come back inside with me. We will finish our discussion there.”
Following her back into the wrecked store, Ichigo didn’t quite know what to think. But he followed silently, his hands sinking back into his pockets.
<<<<<>>>>>
“You may return to this world,” Harribel began, standing in the center of the circle. “But there will be stipulations in place.”
The room exploded, barely leaving Harribel time to react. Nel bounced up and squealed with delight, hugging a mildly dazed Ichigo. Pesche and Dondochakka stood up, shocked and also excited as well. Urahara, hiding his own shock with his signature smile, sighed with relief.
Grimmjow was still in his seat, processing what he’d just heard. He hadn’t expected that, blinking for a moment. Slowly, he stood up too, a crooked smile crossing his face.
“Please, let me finish.” Harribel’s calm voice resonated through the excitement, silence following. “There is still much to do in Hueco Mundo, so there may not be time to visit anytime soon. But once everything has reached a point of relative stability, I am sure we can establish a schedule that appeases all.”
“Are those our only terms?” Urahara asked. “And is there room in there to negotiate for potential research expeditions into Hueco Mundo.”
“Do not get too ahead of yourself, Urahara-san.” Harribel gave him a cold look. “That is something we can discuss at a later date. As for the terms, I will only call this an alliance between Hueco Mundo and Ichigo Kurosaki. We will not work with the Soul Society, only with Ichigo Kurosaki and his allies. We do not need the Gotei hounding us or knowing the details of this treaty either.”
Urahara nodded, patting Ichigo on the shoulder. “But of course.”
But Ichigo didn’t hear him. Instead, he found himself grinning, the tired bags under his eyes stretching out.
<<<<<>>>>>
Time blurred from then on in a frenzy of activity. Urahara supplied numerous goods to sweeten the deal with Harribel, providing the medical supplies, communication devices, and instructions for Grimmjow and Nelliel to continue the stable healing process. He insisted they provide him with updates for their specific conditions, which Harribel conceded to.
They were all carting several bags and boxes and gadgets and gizmos glory by the end of negotiations, a good two weeks later. When the time came, Ichigo could feel that burn of pride within him for his near constant role as Shinigami-Hollow liaison, surprisingly along with Nel and Grimmjow.
They made a team. Nel in adult form was a calming force of tactical precision and in child form was endearingly sincere in her desire to see her human family. Grimmjow was a source of biting honesty, unafraid to call out old held prejudice and arrogance on either side in order to level the playing field. And Ichigo, well, his extensive practice talking down Aizen, Captains, and deadly individuals prepared him well for this project and all it could mean for the spiritual world. For his friends, for him.
“Oi, Kurosaki!”
The smack at the backside of his head didn’t connect, Ichigo too used to adult Grimmjow’s tactics now that his memories had fully returned.
“ Che , finally training for reflexes again? ‘Bout time. You’ll need to be better though for when we finally get our rematch. I haven’t forgotten our agreement. And I ain’t no fool, so it won’t fly if you try spoutin’ some bullshit about losing your powers. You’ll find something to fight with eventually.”
Ichigo… didn’t know what to say. With the Espada’s recuperation and the negotiations, Ichigo finally returned to the heart of spiritual ongoings in Karakura. Even though he wasn’t joining in as a fighter, his friends stopped keeping things from him, hiding their bruises and activities. He wasn’t being shut out or treated like a delicate broken thing either since his escape from the rouge Hollow that attacked Grimm.
He was content with that.
But Grimmjow had been adamant, dropping hints to outright calling out reminders of their destined rematch. His confidence in Ichigo’s return to glory, as an independent fighter not bowing to the Gotei or Urahara and his gang.
“Kisuke may like playing businessman and doctor but he’s got too many skeletons in his closet to not spout bullshit constantly. Don’t trust it blindly,” he’d snarled.
“Aw, Grimm, it’s so touching to see your concern.”
“That ain’t concern, numb nut. It’s an expectation. ‘Cuz my rival ain’t gonna be some dancing monkey toy soldier. When I fight you, it’ll be with everything we got before I pound you into the ground like you deserve.” He finished off with a slick grin that promised trouble, “I look forward to it,” he purred and sauntered off toward the Garganta that would return the Espadas to Hueco Mundo, leaving Ichigo a stuttering, red-faced tomato.
All the while, Grimmjow’s mind was already centuries in the past, continents away…
Russet curls caught between his hands, freckled bronze skin peppered with the purpling bruises of their love making. It all calls to him sensations of warmth, safety and devotion. It’s a safe place, away from his family and their legacy, especially his deadbeat dad hanging around them.
“Urgh, Nicholas, go back to sleep,” his lover muttered grouchily, his deep brown eyes peeking out at him from full lashes smooshed into the pillows. The dappled sunlight made him glow like an angel coming to rid him of sin while tempting his desire.
“I’m sorry, my love. Go back to sleep,” Nicholas apologized, sealing it with a kiss to his lover’s bare shoulder where he breathed in the smell of him, taking comfort in his presence.
Grimmjow’s steps faltered as the warm memory replayed in his mind. He could remember the smell of the lavender oil his lover enjoyed using for bathing, the soft cotton sheets of their den, hidden away from the pressures of the world. He had been so happy in those moments.
He blinked.
The delayed grief and shock passed through him in an undercurrent as he regained that aspect of his humanity, powerful but muted with time as he relived the memories. Grimmjow couldn’t help but glance back at Kurosaki’s gaping mouth and cherry stained flush, and think…
Damn, I guess it was always redheads then...
Ichigo locked eyes with him as he entered the yawning mouth of the garganta. Amber eyes sparkled at the sight of him, and soft lips upturned in an easy, warm smile.
Taking his last revelation for the day with him, Grimmjow shut his eyes and let his feet lead him down the path back into the world of moonlight and howls, a mirrored smile gracing his lips.
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
In the following six months, Harribel hoarded Nel and Grimm for the major overhauls of Aizen’s Las Noches, reclaiming the domain for Hollows seeking safety and protection, instating herself as Queen and the Sexta and former Tres Espadas as her council. Nel trained Arrancar looking to serve as soldiers and drew up defensive strategies for when Hueco Mundo next saw the battle (because it would) while Grimmjow enjoyed developing the infrastructure using his lengthy regained human knowledge in engineering, using many home made explosives no doubt.
After the foundational work was completed, Harribel worked out a schedule of passing notes and specimens to the Shoten on a rotating monthly basis so Grimmjow and Nelliel could return to their human and shinigami compatriots, sometimes bringing Pesche, Dondochakka and Bawabawa with them.
At the eight months mark, a garganta ripped above Las Noches, revealing a lone, shining figure with a reiatsu unmistakable for its unique mix of auras.
Grimmjow’s lips spread into a wide, toothy grin of brutal savagery as he turned to face his challenger. Seeing the wisps of auburn locks, he crowed, “‘bout damn time, Kurosaki. Thought I was gonna have to wait til you were old and wrinkly before you got off your ass again.”
“Sorry Grimm, I know how much you’ve been missing getting your ass handed to you. Don’t worry, I’m not disappearing anytime soon.”