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Summary
"Alright," Ichigo breathes, hunkering down. He realizes then that he's panting a little. He looks at Grimmjow's pale hand and the black knife tucked into the curl of his fingers. The dark red dribble. "You get a taste of that yet?"
Grimmjow doesn't move; Ichigo can see his breath pluming out of him and his pupils are very big. "Yeah," he rumbles, but Ichigo doesn't think he has. "You're all mutt, all the way."