Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez was about to commit a cold-blooded murder.

If one could compare Grimmjow to a wild animal, they’d definitely say he looked like a mixture of an angry brown bear with an intimidating black panther, constantly snarling and growling at the wind, and pacing around like he was deciding when to finally jump at his prey. His quick steps around the dark streets of Karakura were based purely on instinct, following the smell that distinguished Urahara Kisuke’s shop from all the others, one Grimmjow had become very familiar with over the past two years. Large eyes were focused ahead, paying no mind to whoever or whatever crossed their path, like a horse being forced to focus on winning a race. As he got closer to his destined place, more of Grimmjow’s logic and rationality was lost, driven by an overbearing anger that insisted on consuming all of his thoughts.

Although Grimmjow wasn’t known for being a nice person, he chose to ignore a lot of things that bothered him just for the sake of avoiding useless fights he knew he could easily win. Most of the time he paid no mind to Yoruichi’s and Urahara’s teasing words and devilish smirks, to Jinta’s drama and Tessai’s tears. He grunted at them and answered back when the insults pushed many of his buttons at once, but he had never picked a fight with them because of that. Besides Kurosaki, not a lot of things made him go off the deep end.

However, there was one thing Grimmjow had learned to despise more than anything.

People had lied to Grimmjow before, played him for a fool, trying to manipulate and deceive him in the worst possible ways. Di Roy, Aizen, and even the other Espadas. None of them thought twice before using him like a pawn in their personal game. A few of them failed, though others went through Grimmjow’s rough exterior, even if only a few centimeters deep. Those people and their stupid actions left marks on Grimmjow’s body and specially on his mind - gladly he lacked a soul or else that would also be decorated with a couple of scars. Grimmjow had never trusted anyone or anything, knowing he could only rely on himself in order to get where he was supposed to. Those who offered him help were nothing but trouble, obstacles that kept him from moving forward, from getting stronger.

Yet Grimmjow found himself falling for the same tricks once again.

He knew he shouldn’t have trusted Urahara, knew he should’ve ignored him and whatever he had to say about stupid human’s holidays. But when Kurosaki’s name fell from those thin and venomous lips, Grimmjow’s attention had been sold for that simple shinigami bid.

Kurosaki differed from the others. He stood above everyone else on a marble pedestal made especially for him, and Grimmjow did not know how he got there. Maybe because of their regular fights, or to how much he annoyed Grimmjow with his protective tendencies, or simply because he was the only one that answered back to Grimmjow’s wicked remarks. Grimmjow had tried his best to ignore him, but found himself looking forward to seeing those fiery strands of hair again. To him, Kurosaki was someone he considered almost an equal, though Grimmjow still thought he was better than him in a lot of aspects, a strong contestant to fight over the King’s golden crown.

And during that particular night, through very gritted teeth, Grimmjow had to admit that being beside Kurosaki hadn’t been so bad as he thought it would be. The shinigami was smart, with a kind of sarcastic humor that Grimmjow appreciated a little more than he should have, and had even brought some pretty interesting points of views to the table. Actually, after the dinner, Grimmjow was surprised when he caught himself remotely thinking of how he was able to enjoy the night and even have a bit of fun. That impression, however, faded as soon as the truth was revealed, being replaced by sheer anger instead.

Which brought Grimmjow’s hands to be tightly wrapped around a long pale neck.

“To what do I own such a pleasant greeting, Arrancar-kun?” Urahara smiled sheepishly, hat already off his head and feet a couple of centimeters from the ground.

“Shut the fuck up, you sleazy son of a bitch,” Grimmjow’s body stiffened, becoming almost as hard as his cold yet blazing blue eyes. “You fucking lied to me.”

Urahara’s voice was raspy when he spoke. “You need to take things less seriously, Grimmjow-kun,” he wrapped his fingers around Grimmjow’s hands, trying to loosen his grip. “I was just trying to help you and my dearest shinigami.”

Grimmjow pressed Urahara harder against the wall. “Stop fucking around. We are not toys for you to play with.”

Pale hands were raised up in surrender. “I swear I was not playing with you, Grimmjow-kun. My intentions were very pure, I assure you.”

“Pure my ass. You knew today was fucking Valentine’s Day and said absolutely nothing. Kurosaki probably thought I asked him out because I liked him, not because he’s my sparring partner,” Grimmjow shook Urahara’s body, sharp canines making their way through his lips. His arms were trembling, almost letting go of Urahara, but he refused to drop him before strangling that neck.

“Oh, so you don’t like Kurosaki, kun?” Urahara tilted his head, lips curving into a pout.

“What the hell, sneaky pervert? Of course I don’t like him!” Grimmjow growled before hurling Urahara onto the ground. He took a few steps backwards and unclenched his fists, feeling his blood flowing again.

“I thought there was something going on during your weekly sparring sessions, but well,” Urahara dusted his clothes and picked up his hat from the floor, murmuring quietly to himself but also making sure that Grimmjow could listen to him. “Let’s just hope Kurosaki-kun never hears that.”

“There’s absolutely nothing between us. We fight and that’s all,” Grimmjow frowned at the ground, hands itching to go for Urahara’s neck again even when they lacked the required strength to do so.

“I bet you rushed here as soon as you knew about it. Kurosaki-kun must be feeling very heartbroken right now,” Urahara sighed, covering his eyes with his usual striped hat.

“Why would he be heartbroken?” Grimmjow’s blue eyes found Urahara’s grayish ones, which looked surprisingly sad for a moment.

“Haven’t you learned anything at all from Valentine’s Day, Arrancar-kun?” Urahara raised a hand, aiming for Grimmjow’s shoulder, but Grimmjow just swatted it away. Another heavy sigh followed before Urahara decided to open his mouth again. “That’s a shame, though I really hope you realize it soon enough. Don’t make poor Ichigo wait for you much longer or you might really lose him this time.”

“What the hell are you talking about, old bastard!?” Grimmjow called after him when Urahara left the room, but the man just waved him a hand dismissively.

“You’ll find out, hopefully! Have a good night, Grimmjow-kun!”

Grimmjow threw a fist against the wall, right when Tessai was entering the room. They exchanged a few glances until Tessai cleared his throat.

“I hope you know that will be coming out of your payment, Grimmjow.”

A loud groan left the Arrancar’s lips as he made his way towards his room. “Fuck my life.”

Grimmjow had spent the last two days locked inside his room at Urahara’s, frowning at the ceiling and at the small bag of chocolates at the bedside table as if they had declared a direct attack on his pride. He thought about Urahara’s words, which automatically made him recall Kurosaki's crestfallen face when he stormed out of his front door. There was no way that Kurosaki actually felt bad because of how the events turned out in the end, right? No, Kurosaki must’ve felt sorry for Grimmjow since he was the one who asked Kurosaki out on fucking Valentine’s Day, then found out it was all bullshit.

And that only worsened Grimmjow’s annoyed expression. Damn, he fucking hated when people felt sorry for him.

As if he would ever think of Kurosaki as something more than a good fighting partner. Just the idea of anything beyond that kind of relationship made Grimmjow’s stomach turn unpleasantly. As if someone so hollow could be capable of developing true feelings about another. All Grimmjow felt was hunger and an intrinsic need to fight so he could prove to himself he could go that far. There was no space for friendships or even romance, only for souls and bruises.

Maybe Grimmjow was in need of a good fight right now, a thrilling session of slashes to make things normal again. His mouth salivated at the thought of Kurosaki’s blood falling from his sharp black claws, the heat of it enough to overpass his hierro and create goosebumps on the surface of his skin. His hands yearned to punch the shinigami’s ever so confident face, break his facade and force those magnetic eyes to glower at him ⎯ and only him.

Pantera was at his waist seconds after those thoughts crossed Grimmjow’s mind.

It was Wednesday, after all.

Grimmjow moved quickly through the streets, using his sonido to reach Kurosaki's household in a flash. As he got closer, his wicked grin grew even wider, barely able to contain his inner excitement. However, at the same time his anxiety flourished, his bright forsythias also withered. The usual heavy pressure Grimmjow felt from Kurosaki’s reiatsu was nowhere in sight, air as clean and light as a pristine angel feather. He stopped mid-air and looked around, trying to sniff a trace of Kurosaki’s presence, which was definitely there but not as close and strong as Grimmjow had expected it to be.

In a minute, Grimmjow was standing in front of Kurosaki’s bedroom window, finding nothing more than messy bed sheets and an empty room. He clicked his tongue and shoved both hands inside his pockets, wondering where the hell Kurosaki was. The hairs on the back of Grimmjow’s neck raised when someone with a significant presence opened the door. Grimmjow had seen him a couple of times, though they had never truly spoken to each other.

“Ah, I thought it might be you,” the man walked inside and adjusted his glasses around his perky nose. “You must be the Arrancar, right? Grimmjow, wasn’t it?”

Grimmjow rolled his eyes and muttered quietly. “Great, another Kurosaki.”

“Sorry to say he’s not home, but you probably knew that already.” Grimmjow peeked at the man from the corner of his eyes, seeing Isshin’s arms crossed and his expression half serious, half sad.

“Who said I’m looking for that idiot?”

“Why else would you be standing outside his bedroom window on a Wednesday?” Isshin sighed, his shoulders becoming slightly less tense as the air left his lungs. “Listen, I’m not sure what happened between you two on Valentine’s, but Ichigo was feeling pretty sad about it. I’ve tried to coax it out of him, but you know how reserved he is, carrying the weight of the world on his back.”

Grimmjow forced his teeth together, anger bubbling inside like a teakettle about to screech. “I think I know him enough, old man. Just tell me where he is.”

“I don’t know, Ichigo just said he was going out for a while, might spend the night at someone’s house,” Isshin shrugged, and Grimmjow breathed in deeply, concentrating hard to not just simply walk inside and snap the old Kurosaki’s neck.

What a useless piece of information.

“His reiatsu is weak as shit,” Grimmjow complained instead. It wasn’t impossible to locate the shinigami that had been plaguing Grimmjow’s mind, although his spiritual presence was dim, if Grimmjow focused enough he could find him. He could sense traces of him, staining the bedsheets and faintly flowing through the streets, a silent and invisible track that called Grimmjow to him.

“Are you going after him? I don’t think he wants to see you, much less fight you, Grimmjow.”

A wide grin colored Grimmjow’s face with mischievous shades. “Fuck if I care.”

It took him about three minutes to locate Kurosaki. He stood in front of the apartment complex and stared from afar. There was another powerful presence with the shinigami, one Grimmjow had been forced to be familiar with, soft yet fierce.

The redhead that Kurosaki and his friends had rescued from Las Noches two years ago.

Grimmjow had nothing against the human girl, but sometimes he simply wished she was dead. Ever since the incident, Grimmjow noticed how close she and Kurosaki had become. They were always seen together at Urahara’s parties, walking and laughing like a pair of newlyweds, a sight that made Grimmjow’s eyebrows twitch. A strange possessiveness crawled through Grimmjow’s skin every single time, and he had refused to try to understand why. Perhaps deep inside Grimmjow knew that Kurosaki was his, and seeing him with someone else only made Grimmjow want to punch something and get that desired attention back to himself.

The soles of his feet scratched the gravel underneath them before he settled down, back against the icy wall and legs extended in front of him. With his eyes closed, Grimmjow could feel the lurking presence of hollows, nothing that showed genuine threats of danger. Still, there they were, waiting for a chance to strike the weakest and consume their souls.

And what a perfect meal Kurosaki would be considering his deplorable state.

Grimmjow had given up on their fight. He wanted to beat Kurosaki at his best, not when he was struggling to survive. A fair fight was all he ever asked for, and Kurosaki had yet to let him down.

Hollows never slept, too aware of their surroundings, too scared to be eaten alive. Grimmjow did not know how much time he had wasted sitting there, but after a while he felt someone approaching.

He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who it was.

“What do you want, woman?” He grumbled.

Orihime seemed surprised, gasping softly before speaking. “I’m sorry for bothering you, Grimmjow-kun.” She placed something right next to Grimmjow, but he still refused to look. “Kurosaki said you were here. He felt your presence. We thought you were going to barge in, but you never did. Since it’s cold, I thought it’d be nice to bring you something to keep you warm.”

One blue orb peeked at the fluffy blanket next to him, dark green with a pattern of red ladybugs. It smelled like Kurosaki, spicy around the edges yet incredibly sweet, like the chocolates he was so fond of, and Grimmjow’s palm crashed onto it almost instantly.

“My hierro prevents me from feeling cold, that’s just useless,” the softness under his hand was nice, though foreign to Grimmjow.

Orihime giggled, waving her hands in front of her face when Grimmjow looked at her coldly. “Kurosaki said the same thing, but I wanted to bring it to you, anyway.”

Grimmjow huffed, shifting his gaze to the bright yellow lights on the other side. “How is he?”

Orihime went silent for a second, as if thinking of what to say. “He’ll be fine, I don’t think you need to worry, Grimmjow-kun.”

“Who the fuck said I’m worried? That bastard could die and I wouldn’t give shit,” Grimmjow’s jaw popped loudly, both hands now involuntarily searching for the blanket and gripping onto it tightly.

“He’s hurt, emotionally,” she added when Grimmjow’s eyes grew larger in surprise,”but he’ll recover soon. He wanted to apologize for not being up for a fight today.”

“Fucking pussy,” Grimmjow muttered. “Then tell him to make it up for this the next time we meet.”

Orihime nodded, and although she had explained why she was outside, Grimmjow could still feel a tense energy around her.

“Just spill it out, woman,” he tried to encourage her.

Before she fell on her knees right next to Grimmjow, he managed to save the blanket from being rubbed into the dusty ground, leaving it on his lap.

“Please consider giving a thought to Kurosaki’s feelings!” She pleaded with both hands clasped together. “It would make him very happy if you did, even if you don’t love him back. And please don’t treat him any differently because of that. He feels very comfortable around you, and despite not saying it out loud, he really cherishes your relationship.”

Grimmjow stared at Orihime as if she had just told him that Aizen had a secret twin who was about to take control of Hueco Mundo again.

“What the fuck!?” Kurosaki had feelings for him? Kurosaki had romantic feelings for him? No fucking way. “Listen, if this is a joke, then just say so and stop fucking around.”

“I-It's not, I swear!” She stuttered. “Kurosaki is in love with you. That’s why he’s so sad about what happened between you two on Valentine’s Day. He thought you liked him back because you asked him out, but in the end it was just a misunderstanding.”

Grimmjow opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Orihime’s confession about Kurosaki’s true feelings rendered him speechless. At first, when they went out for dinner, Grimmjow had failed to understand why Kurosaki had bothered to bring chocolates, why the shinigami kept smiling softly at him and why he looked so troubled once they reached his house. Slowly, the puzzle pieces started to stick together, solving the riddle that had been testing Grimmjow’s patience.

Although the solution didn’t make Grimmjow as satisfied as he had hoped to be.

“What about you two!? I thought you were practically married, for fuck’s sake!”

“We’re just friends,” Orihime whispered sadly. “You know, Grimmjow-kun, I was really envious of you at the beginning. I’ve been in love with Kurosaki-kun since high school, but he never looked at me the way he looks at you. I decided then that I just wanted him to be happy, no matter with whom. And if his heart chose you, the only thing I can ask for is for you to think about it, and if you’re going to let him down, please do it kindly. Kurosaki has been through a lot already. I don’t want you to become another heavy weight on his shoulders.” She was once again on her feet, brushing the dirt from off her pink sweatpants.

“Have a good night, Grimmjow-kun,” Orihime said before walking back to her apartment and leaving Grimmjow alone with his troubled mind.

He threw his head back against the wall, hard enough to leave a mark on the cement. His nose caught Kurosaki’s scent from the blanket and he threw the thing away, watching as it landed on the other side of the street.

That’s what Grimmjow wanted right now, to be as far away from Kurosaki as possible.

After a week, Grimmjow’s thoughts were still a mess.

It was incomprehensible, impossible to remotely think that someone like Kurosaki - who could have literally anyone with his blazing eyes and snarky smile, would love a hollow, an Arrancar nonetheless, one who tried to kill him multiple times. Was Kurosaki a fucking idiot? Grimmjow lacked a heart, but he had a brain, so he knew that must be the epitome of stupidity. To fall in love with him, how much idiocy Kurosaki was capable of harboring? And when exactly did that happen? What traits Grimmjow had that have caught the shinigami’s attention? He was the bad guy, one who craved blood and souls, playing Death’s role and ending lives for fun. Kurosaki, on the other hand, was the good guy, one who saved people from monsters like Grimmjow.

It didn’t make any sense.

The shinigami had yet to make his triumphal entrance, having a bunch of problems to deal with at Soul Society during that week.

Another wasted Wednesday.

Grimmjow had stayed in the human world, hoping the fresh air would help him clear his head. It didn’t, but he spent most of his time running errands against his will for the old bastard he still hadn’t forgiven. Although he hated following Urahara’s requests, it had proven to be an excellent distraction and a reasonable source of income, too.

He had just arrived from a strange workshop to get the pervert some materials for another crazy experiment. As soon as he opened the door, Grimmjow found himself face to face with a small blond child. She gasped when she saw him, dropping the brown bag that had apparently been filled with gummy bears, now rolling through the wooden floor.

The next thing Grimmjow felt was a flip-flop hitting him on the face. He startled in surprise, taking a few steps back and looking at the kid with a murderous gaze. The child had unshed tears in the corners of her eyes, and her trembling lips were pressed tightly, suppressing the sobs that threatened to escape.

“I hate you! You’ve hurt, Ichi-nii!” She screamed, going for the other pair of her flip-flops, but Grimmjow reached for her wrist before she could throw it.

“Stop with that shit, you crazy midget!” He raised his voice, enough to make her rethink her actions. It worked as a trigger, making her drop the weapon and start crying.

“I don’t wanna see Ichi-nii sad,” she babbled.

Grimmjow breathed in deeply and crouched to be on her eye level. “Listen, kid, if you want to blame someone for that you should aim that flip-flop right on that sneaky bastard behind the counter,” he pointed at Urahara, who was silently watching their interaction behind his fan.

“Besides, your brother is very stupid and I bet he’ll get over it soon,” Grimmjow's frown deepened as he spoke, like something in his sentence didn’t seem right. “He’ll be happy and sunny again in no time, you’ll see.”

She dried her tears with the palm of her free hand and blinked at Grimmjow. “You promise?”

Grimmjow could be a lot of things, however, a liar wasn’t one of them.

He didn’t make promises, not ones he knew he couldn’t fulfill. It sucked to know that Kurosaki was feeling like that because of a misunderstanding he was involved in. It was a pain to know Kurosaki loved him when Grimmjow himself did not know what that even meant. He had spent a couple of nights trying to solve the puzzle but it was in vain. He couldn’t find an answer to something he had no experience with. Not knowing made him feel lost, mad with an unconscious desire to learn and shove it on Kurosaki’s face, proving he understood him like no one else could.

Kurosaki’s sister had in her eyes the determination Grimmjow always found in the shinigami’s. She was strong, he could tell, yet fragile at the same time. They were too alike.

The truth fell from Grimmjow’s lips naturally. “Can’t, kid. But I’ve seen your brother recover from nastier bruises than that one. He’ll be fine.”

She smiled weakly, seemingly satisfied with Grimmjow’s reply. “I think you’re right. I hope ichi-nii kicks your ass the next time he sees you.”

Grimmjow threw his head back and laughed loudly, maniacally. “I hope so too, kid.”

She dusted off her yellow dress after picking up her candy from the floor. Grimmjow handed her the tiny pink flip-flop, and she gripped his fingers.

“You know, now I understand why my brother likes you that much. You’re not such a bad person.”

Grimmjow clicked his tongue, huffing in annoyance. “I’m not a person, midget. I’m a hollow, remember? We’re no good.”

The girl tilted her head, pondering for a second before talking. “Ichi-nii sees the good in everyone. That definitely doesn’t exclude you.”

Her words left Grimmjow tongue-tied. He had no reply to that other than to just send her away. “It’s getting late, kid. Soon your lunatic dad will come looking for you.”

She nodded quietly, waving them goodbye and following her path home.

“Well, what a surprise! Who knew you were so talented with children, Grimmjow-kun!” Urahara clapped proudly.

Grimmjow snarled at him, wishing he had claws to sink into the man’s chest and tear the pale skin. “One more word about this and you’re a dead man, old pervert!”

“I’m sure Ichigo will be very pleased to know how gentle you were with his little sister,” Urahara avoided Grimmjow’s punch and opened his fan to hide his face.

“Urahara!” Grimmjow went after him, stopping after a hand dropped on his shoulder and squeezed hard.

“I feel the need to tell you something, though. Bruises last for a week or two, but broken hearts can last for an entire lifetime, Grimmjow. The difference is that it force us to learn how to hide that pain from others. It’s personal and most of the time we’re barely aware of it, until it hurts.”

Grimmjow swatted Urahara’s hand and offered him his back. “Whatever.”

Needless to say, that was another sleepless night.

For the lack of a better word, Grimmjow was sulking - according to everyone else that lived in Urahara’s shop. The only reason he wasn’t back at Hueco Mundo already was because his dearest Kurosaki had gone there during that week, per Halibel’s request.

And Grimmjow did not want to face him at this moment, thank you very much.

He had no idea what to do or even think. Grimmjow’s mind was a mess of confused thoughts and faint ideas of what it meant to truly like someone as more than a friend; more than a partner. So far, he had reached a total of zero conclusions, though he was aware of one thing.

Grimmjow wanted to fight Kurosaki.

It was rare for them to be apart for more than a week, always finding time to fit a healthy sparring session despite how busy they were. None of them would admite so, but they couldn’t live without it, addicted to the adrenaline rushing through their veins whenever their swords clashed. Withdraw periods only made them hungrier, searching for other ways to end that uncomfortable feeling, for other people to fight. It was never the same, however, only Kurosaki could bring out Grimmjow’s full potential, and that road went both ways, meaning the same to Kurosaki as well. Otherwise, his smile wouldn’t grow as large whenever he and Grimmjow traded punches. He wouldn’t look for him first thing each Wednesday and willingly spend all his day sweating and being proud of his new collection of bruises.

It was fun. Fighting Kurosaki made Grimmjow somewhat happy.

But now he wasn’t there, hadn't been for a while, and Grimmjow couldn’t help feeling pissed about it. How dared Kurosaki leave him just like that? Forgetting about Grimmjow like he meant nothing and pretending their weekly meetings didn’t exist. It made Grimmjow’s blood boil, turning the viscous liquid into molten lava. He hated to be left behind, especially when Kurosaki was out there confronting captains and hollows, having fun without him.

More than anything, Grimmjow wished Kurosaki was there, which brought a certain bitterness to his mouth. It was a strange feeling, a yearning Grimmjow couldn’t exactly name it, almost as if he…

“You miss him, right?” Yoruichi sat by his side with a bottle of beer swinging to her lips.

Grimmjow was at the table, arms folded on top of it, where his head was now resting. He rolled his eyes and scowled at her.

“Why would I miss that idiot? Go away, old hag.”

Yuruichi grinned mischievously. “Oh, I was talking about Tessai, he’s been gone all morning and you look like you could use some food. I guess you thought about someone else, huh?”

Grimmjow turned his head away from her mischievous eyes, the mask on his cheek now pressed onto his arm, hard enough to imprint it on his skin. “Not my fault he’s the only person who can fight around here.”

Yoruichi hummed, and Grimmjow could listen to the alcohol swirling inside her bottle. “Me and Kisuke could take you anytime, all you have to do is ask. The point is that you don’t want to fight anybody else but Ichigo.”

Grimmjow snorted loudly. “It’s no fun to fight someone who runs all the time or complains when I’m being too rough. Kurosaki knows how to take me. He comes for it like in a proper fight. He doesn’t underestimate me, ever.”

“So you like the way he treats you?”

Hidden from Yoruichi’s gaze, Grimmjow frowned. He had never stopped to think about how different Kurosaki acted around him. The shinigami didn’t feel the need to walk around eggshells. He said whatever was on his mind because he knew Grimmjow wouldn’t judge or leave him for it.

People had always been afraid of Grimmjow, their steps around him were careful. One word and they thought Grimmjow would rip out their throats - which wasn’t completely wrong, though it wasn’t right either.

But not Kurosaki, no. He had never been afraid of Grimmjow.

“He doesn’t look down on me for being a hollow. Hell, he couldn’t care less about it, probably makes the freak happy.”

“Sometimes I think he sees you as a safe place, someone who shows him it’s okay not to be a hundred percent human. He looks up to you, somehow. He really puts you up on a pedestal, even defends you when you’re not around, saying you’re not as bad as most people consider you to be.”

Grimmjow’s nails scratched the wooden surface angrily. “Who does that fucker think he is? I don’t need him to look after me like an honorable knight. Fuck that little shit.”

“He does that because he loves you, Grimmjow.”

Grimmjow inhaled sharply upon listening to that word, the one that had been poisoning his mind for a while, slowly consuming each and every thought.

His silence gave Yoruichi the opportunity to keep talking. “You know, love doesn’t have to be that complicated. Sometimes it’s simpler than it seems. Grimmjow, you do the same thing to him as well. You’re less moody when he’s around, cracking a smile now and then just by mentioning his name. You’re happy when he’s here. We can all see the way your eyes search and shine for him. You’ve been acting like an abandoned cat for three weeks because he didn’t bother to show up or even tell you where he was going,” she sighed and Grimmjow took a peek at her soft smile. “You’ve been trying to figure out what it means to like someone, but you’ve had your answer all along. I can’t tell if it’s love, but I’m sure you feel something for him that’s different from anything you’ve ever felt before.”

If Grimmjow had a heart, it would be beating faster than his sonido. His mind went blank for a second, then it projected Kurosaki’s face. The shinigami and his silly smile that made Grimmjow want to punch him for being so naïve, those brown eyes that showed sparkles of gold even when he wasn’t in his hollow state, his ridiculous orange hair that made Grimmjow feel less strange about his own blue strands.

He groaned in frustration, wanting nothing more than to grab the shinigami’s shoulders and bring him close enough to bite. Grimmjow would start by his cheek, scraping his sharp canines against the soft flesh and tracing a slow and torturous path down that sculpted jaw. Next, he would lick Kurosaki’s neck with the tip of his tongue, feeling his pulse and tasting his skin. Grimmjow’s hunger would eventually bring him to his final destination on Kurosaki’s lips, feeling their texture against his own and sinking his teeth until the taste of copper flooded his mouth.

Shit, that was bad. Grimmjow had gone completely insane. First missing Kurosaki’s presence, now daydreaming about eating him alive and kissing him? He had lost his mind, deceived by his traitorous thoughts, so focused on finding out the reason for Kurosaki’s feelings that they were being projected as his own.

“Where are you going?” Yoruichi asked when Grimmjow stood up abruptly.

“Out,” was Grimmjow’s answer before he opened a garganta right in the middle of the room and vanished to the place he should call home, but it had never really felt like it.

The human world was in constant transition. For the past two years, Grimmjow had seen buildings rise amidst the suburban landscape, trees growing and coloring the skies with their bright palettes, weather changing from shivering cold to blazing hot and people’s faces adorned with all kinds of wrinkles. To humans, time was nothing but a limitation, a definition of where things started and when they were about to cease. The same concept didn’t apply to Grimmjow or any other hollow, simply because you couldn’t put an end to someone who was already dead. No matter how many years had gone by, the Hueco Mundo would remain the same, its sand would be just as deep and endless, and its inhabiting creatures would be just as desperate to survive. There were no abrupt changes, no sights to see, no color, no life. The silence was filled with agonizing cries of the ones who had fallen instead of joyful laughs. The air had nothing but rough grains of sand flying everywhere, never the gentle breeze that brushed upon your cheeks.

It wasn’t a marvellous place, Grimmjow had come to accept that, but it was one he once called home.

He tried to suppress his reiatsu as much as he could, not wanting to alert others of his presence. His feet took him to an old shelter, crumbled stones and large bones that somehow managed to fall together and become the closest thing to a house he could find. It still smelled faintly like Grimmjow, from all the previous times he had been there to recover from a nasty fight or to eat a banquet of freshly hunted souls. Pantera was set by the wall, and Grimmjow allowed his body to meet the dusty rags on top of a large stone, a makeshift bed. He closed his eyes, letting darkness surround him, and tried to rearrange his messy thoughts.

What brought Grimmjow happiness?

Fighting was the first thing that came to his mind, though it wasn’t just any kind of fight. He loathed the easy ones, a complete waste of energy, annoying the Arrancar instead of making him satisfied, as it should. Challenges, however, made his grin widen considerably. Grimmjow had always aimed for the large fish, even when he was still a lethargic Gillian, surviving dangerously ever since. With every jump, the Adjucha reached higher altitudes, unbothered by the limitations of his body. Pain was an encouragement, a sign that showed him he was still not strong enough and needed to go further. Soon, Grimmjow was blasting ceros and mastering his sonido after becoming a renowned Vasto Lorde. And by the time he became an Arrancar, Grimmjow felt there was no one who could go against him.

Not until he met Kurosaki Ichigo.

Almost as if the gods had given him a second opportunity, fighting Kurosaki made Grimmjow feel alive for the first time in centuries. He was invigorated, overcome by the desire to defeat him, to be the one who had the honor of killing the shinigami hero. And Kurosaki never held back, going for it with everything he had in order to bring Grimmjow down, even though he never killed him when he had the chance to - and probably never would. Kurosaki showed him there was more in fighting besides the bloodshed, made him feel in ecstasy, addicted to that nameless feeling only he could bring him.

Perhaps that was the moment Grimmjow had learned what happiness was all about.

And for someone who had always basked in his own loneliness, being close to Kurosaki didn’t feel that bad. Whether during their sparring sessions or outside of them, Kurosaki’s presence offered Grimmjow some kind of comfort, a break from his solitude and a chance to allow himself to feel.

He still couldn’t understand it perfectly what those things really meant, but he might be getting closer to a conclusion after all.

“Grimmy?” Grimmjow rolled to the side at the sound of that familiar voice. “I can see the marks of your cute little paws, so I know you’re in here, Grimmjow.” He could tell she was getting closer by her reiatsu, counting down the seconds until she found out where he was hiding.

“There you are! I thought I saw a pussycat.” Fingers reached out for Grimmjow’s tail, but he flickered it away before she had a chance to grab it.

“Have you been watching cartoons with those midgets back at Urahara’s again? Just go away, Nelliel.”

“I’ve left you alone for an entire week, but now I don’t think I will,” she sat beside Grimmjow’s body in a loud thud. “I know there’s something wrong, so I’m here for you in case you want to talk about it.”

“I’m fine. Go annoy Halibel, furry legs,” Grimmjow closed his eyes and wished he could just fall asleep to avoid the conversation about to come.

Nelliel let out a tired sigh. “Ichigo was leaving by the time you’d arrived. He mentioned he’s been busy lately, but he misses you.”

“As if I care,” Grimmjow mumbled quietly, words lacking their usual sarcastic venom.

“He also thinks he screwed up things between you two. Well, actually, he said Orihime did the job, but she was just trying to help so he doesn’t really blame her for it.”

Grimmjow snorted. “Of course that prick wouldn’t condemn the redhead.”

Neliel kept talking despite the Arrancar’s comments. “He wanted to thank you for being nice to his little sister, too.”

“Why are humans so damn nosy!?” He replied, scratching his pointy ears.

“And then, three days ago when I was visiting, Yoruichi told me you might be having problems with certain feelings and I should leave you be, but only for a while.”

Grimmjow turned to Nelliel almost instantly, eyebrows furrowed and canines out, ready to attack. “Can’t people take care of their own fucking lives!?” He hissed, claws scraping at the hard surface underneath.

“Hey,” Nelliel softened her eyes, almost as if hoping Grimmjow would do the same once he saw she meant no harm. “I want to help you. That’s why I’m here.”

“I don’t need your help, Nelliel. I’m doing fine by myself, in case you haven’t noticed.” His face approached hers slowly, spitting each and every word with rage.

She met his wrath with some of her own. “Clearly you've been doing great, moping like a child and hiding from everyone else because you're too scared to admit that you are in love with Ichigo!”

Grimmjow grabbed her by the collar of her shirt, bringing her close enough to feel her shaky breath on his nose. “How can I be afraid of something I've never felt before in my entire existence, woman!? You all keep saying what I do and don’t feel, but I don’t have a clue what that means. I’ve been trying to figure it out, but guess what, I’m a fucking hollow.”

“That doesn't mean we can’t love on our own terms, Grimmjow! We might not feel what humans say they do, all the butterflies and fireworks, but we can still show affection and feel emotions,” she placed her hands on top of his, a gentle grip compared to Grimmjow’s. “We’re not heartless monsters. We’ve been human once. There must be something deep inside that survived through all those transformations.”

“Hunger, that’s all we feel,” Grimmjow replied, blue eyes gradually losing focus.

“You’re lying, Grimmy,” Nelliel said with a small smile. “I love Hali and I care about Ichigo a lot, but not as much as you.”

“I don’t,” Grimmjow’s words barely had any strength, succumbing to the truth Nelliel was trying to show him.

“You do! When he’s sick, you get worried. When he’s away, you miss him. How would you feel if Ichigo moved to Soul Society? Abandoned, right? Like you’ve felt for the past weeks. What if Ichigo died? I bet you’d be angry you weren’t the one who did it, but you’d also grieve. Who else would fight you? Who would push you to your limits like he does?” Grimmjow’s eyes fell to Nelliel's hands, avoiding her gaze. It hurt, not because of her violence, but because of the evidence being thrown at Grimmjow’s face so effortlessly.

All along, Kurosaki had been the only one. The problem and its solution.

He was everything.

“Do you love him, Grimmjow?”

Grimmjow took a deep breath, recoiling his legs and wrapping his arms around them. He clicked his tongue loudly before whispering.

“I think you know the answer to that one.”

Nelliel ruffled his long bright blue hair, which Grimmjow allowed for only a second before pushing her away. “Well, that’s a start. I know the perfect opportunity for you to tell him.”

As she waited for a yes or no, Grimmjow waved a hand dismissively. “Like I can stop you from saying it.” And that was the permission Nelliel needed.

“You’re going to love this, Grimmy!” She pulled Grimmjow close against his will and made sure to share everything she knew about the traditions regarding White Day.

That night, when Grimmjow stepped out of a garganta right in front of an amused Tessai, he spoke through gritted teeth.

“Teach me how to make chocolates, big guy.”

It was March 14th.

Temperatures were rising, but it was still considerably cold. The air was dry because of the lack of rain, and filled with the faint scent of the cherry blossoms starting to show their colors. Leaflets could be found all around Karakura, inviting the people to the local festivities surrounding their flora and upcoming holidays.

White Day wasn’t as big as Valentine’s. There weren’t couples all around the town, hugging and holding hands on each corner. That didn’t mean it wasn’t any less important to their culture, however. It was a day about reciprocation, to be thankful for the gifts you’d received a month earlier and express your gratitude.

Traditionally, White Day’s gifts should be three times better than the ones you’d been given. Grimmjow had no idea if his small bag of homemade chocolates was worth that much, but he honestly couldn’t give a damn about it. Four long days and a lot of cleaning were needed to finally finish his first bash. Despite his best effort, some were crooked, hearts half melted, and others with a bit of blooming on the surface. He wanted to throw those away, but Tessai insisted it was important to keep them.

“It’s the intention behind them that truly matters, Grimmjow.”

As a man with a mission to accomplish, Grimmjow stood in front of the Kurosaki’s house in his gigai, wearing a dark red button up and black jeans that hugged every inch of his legs - he regretted ever letting Yoruichi inside his closet, with a pretty bag of chocolates hidden inside his pocket. Its presence was almost impossible to ignore, burning through every layer of his pants as if it was literally on fire.

After a deep sigh, Grimmjow raised his hand and knocked twice, soon being greeted by a black-haired girl who looked at him with scorn.

“What do you want? Ichigo doesn’t want to see you.”

From the background, Grimmjow heard a high-pitched voice he recognized as belonging to the blonde child he met at Urahara’s.

“Who’s there, Karin? Should I get Ichi-nii?”

“No, Yuzu! This one is about to leave,” she moved her hands to the door, ready to close it on Grimmjow’s face. His reflexes were quicker though, shoving a foot inside the house to stop the door and walking past the girl unhurriedly.

“Not going to, kid,” he grinned at Karin and left his shoes at the genkan. “Besides, I can just show up at his window if I really need to.”

Grimmjow nodded at Yuzu, who beamed once she saw him, asking if he would like to stay for dinner. He answered with a shrug, since food wasn’t what he was expecting for that night..

At least not that kind.

“Second door to the left!” Yuzu screamed, and Grimmjow quietly appreciated it as he climbed up the stairs to the shinigami’s room.

His knuckles hit the door once just to let the man inside know someone was coming in, and he turned the doorknob.

From his bed, Kurosaki seemed surprised to see the Arrancar, hazelnut eyes enlarging almost comically and hands losing their grip on his phone, making it fall right onto his chest with a loud thump. His Adam's apple bobbed slowly, parting his lips to say a few words that were never vocalized. He fumbled with his sheets, clumsily taking a seat at the edge of the bed, socked feet now touching the cold floor.

“Yo, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow greeted him before leaning onto the door until it fell shut.

“Grimmjow.” The initial astonishment was gradually disappearing, being replaced by Kurosaki’s usual frown. “What the hell are you doing here? A little late for a fight, don’t you think?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Grimmjow advised with an enormous grin. “I’ve been dying to bury your pretty face in the ground. But that’s not what I’m here for.” He shoved both hands inside his pockets, playing with the ribbon that kept the chocolates from making a mess inside his pants.

“So?” Kurosaki shifted his eyes to his phone, refusing to meet Grimmjow’s eyes. “Are you here to ask me out again?” He teased, laughing even though both shoulders looked tense,

“Maybe later,” Grimmjow replied, taking a few quick steps and ending almost between Kurosaki’s legs. He reached for the shinigami’s hand and placed the gift in his palm, cutting off Kurosaki’s attempts to speak.

“What…”

“This time I didn’t listen to that old pervert, so happy White Day, I guess,” Grimmjow shrugged, feeling completely out of place and stupid for doing such a thing. But the look on Kurosaki’s face was kind of worth it.

“Did you make them for me?” Grimmjow nodded, and Kurosaki gently pulled the pink ends of the ribbon and opened the bag, closing his eyes in delight from the smell of his favorite food. He picked up one, barely paying attention to the imperfections, and tasted it with a quiet, happy moan.

Yet his face still seemed troubled.

“They’re great, but you didn’t have to. I know people have been saying things about me to you…”

Grimmjow huffed, crossing his arms and looking down at Kurosaki’s furrowed eyebrows. “That you’re in love with me. Yes, I’m aware.” Kurosaki flinched at those words, sighing in suffering.

“Then why do all this? You clearly don’t feel the same, and that’s fine.”

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, slightly annoyed at the shinigami for being so dense, which was maybe a little hypocritical coming from someone who had just sulked for four weeks before accepting his own feelings.

“Oi! Who’s making stupid assumptions now, asshole?” He leaned down, forcing his forehead against Kurosaki’s. “You think I’d learn to make chocolates just for anyone? Open your damn eyes, Ichigo,” he demanded, figuratively and literally, seeing the shinigami still hadn’t met his gaze.

The moment he did, however, Grimmjow felt like someone had just punched him in the stomach.

Ichigo had always been reserved, not sharing much of his personal life with other people. He kept his thoughts to himself most of the time, but also wasn’t afraid to speak up when he felt the need to do so. Although he tried his best to hide his emotions, Ichigo’s face and eyes made all those words seem useless, conveying all of his feelings at once.

Now, they looked so damn hopeful with tiny sparkles, making them look golden under the artificial lights of his bedroom. His face, however, told Grimmjow another story, one of a man who seemed shocked, almost a little suspicious or even scared, if Grimmjow dared to say.

“I wouldn’t do that for anyone but you, idiot.” Coming from Grimmjow, that was basically a confession, and from Ichigo’s smile, he understood the message at last.

Grimmjow felt tentative fingers crawling through his arms, resting on his neck. “I wasn’t expecting that,” Ichigo confessed.

Grimmjow snorted, answering the shinigami’s smile with a tiny one of his own. “Obviously,” he stated.

“I really want to kiss you,” Ichigo mumbled, eyes traveling from Grimmjow’s eyes to his lips.

“Then fucking do something about it,” Grimmjow hissed, barely finishing his sentence before he felt Ichigo’s mouth crashing against his.

Grimmjow didn’t know what to expect of a kiss, but he certainly hadn’t thought it would feel so strangely electrifying. Like a lightning had struck on him, Grimmjow’s nerves came alive the instant Ichigo’s lips touched his, a sensation foreign and so damn good it would soon become addicting. It was warm and incredibly inviting, and Grimmjow couldn’t help but sink into that embrace. The hands around Grimmjow’s neck moved, one to his nape, pulling at the short strands of blue hair, and the other to his cheek, softly tracing the surface normally covered by his mask. Grimmjow cupped the shinigami’s face with both of his, sinking his teeth onto Ichigo’s bottom lip until a metallic taste got mixed with the sweetness of the chocolates he had just eaten.

“Jerk,” Ichigo whispered with a pained groan, circling the wound with his tongue before giving Grimmjow a taste of his own medicine.

Unlike Ichigo’s reaction, the Arrancar only grinned when exposed to his blood. “You like it,” he said before diving in for another kiss, hungrier than the first one.

Grimmjow mirrored Ichigo’s movements, the flick of his tongue and how it explored each corner of his mouth, as if trying to imprint his taste into his mind. Ichigo kissed like he fought, impulsively and aggressively, yet also incredibly sweet - not only because of the chocolates. He pulled Grimmjow closer to him by the collar of his shirt, forcing them both to fall on top of the bed. His fingers mapped Grimmjow’s back, tracing unknown patterns and clenching around his shirt when Grimmjow’s sharp canines tickled his lips.

Eventually, the frenetic rhythm slowed down. If their reiatsus had colors, they’d be dancing to a harmonic waltz around their bodies, complementing each other and mixing into one as they moved. Ichigo took his time with it, mapping Grimmjow’s face and body with his fingers as he moaned softly, while Grimmjow kept his hands on Ichigo’s hair, feeling the softness of it under his fingertips.

Grimmjow could feel the corners of Ichigo’s mouth curving into a smile, and he kissed it one more time before inhaling deeply. He heaved on top of Ichigo’s body, hypnotized by the sight of his flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

“Is it strange to say I’m so happy I feel like changing bodies to fight you?” Ichigo laughed freely, moving his thumb through Grimmjow’s lips to clean a drop of blood.

“Tomorrow I’ll beat the shit out of you, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow stated, with no venom at all.

“Yeah,” Ichigo circled Grimmjow’s neck and smiled widely. “Tomorrow sounds like a good day to kick your ass, partner.”

Well, maybe Urahara had been right when he called them partners, after all. But Ichigo was much more than a simple sparring partner.

He was a partner in life.