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Damn.
Grimmjow’s eyes opened to stare at the dark sky of Hueco Mundo. Where was the artificial sunlight? Had the fight with Kurosaki ended outside? No, no. He hadn’t been outside Las Noches when… when Nnoitra that bastard! He ground his teeth and felt the throb in his shoulder from Nnoitra’s blade. Grimmjow shouted and dropped his head back to the sand. The remnants of Las Noches’ domed ceiling lay around him, and he wondered what had brought it down.
Kurosaki? Maybe. He had gotten stronger; his hollow side hungrier. The idiot had no idea what he was trying to control.
Grimmjow forced himself up onto his elbows and the wound in his shoulder wept. He hissed and collapsed into the sand again, panting. Little sparks of pain flickered through him. He had no energy and wondered why he was still alive. Spite? It had to be spite.
His head lulled to the side, and he stared up at the sky. The moon watched him back, unwavering and cold. Kurosaki owed him an end; he needed to see their battle through. This would not be where he di-
A familiar reiatsu erupted around him. It cracked the remaining pillars and forced Grimmjow deeper into the sand. The sky turned green and the smell of toxic petrichor hung heavy in the air. It burned his lungs.
Grimmjow whispered, “Ulquiorra.”
So that’s who shattered the dome. Ulquiorra always did lack restraint when he decided to entertain himself. Grimmjow’s fingers dug tracks in the sand, and he struggled to swallow down the bitter rage. Kurosaki was his. Ulquiorra made his disdain for the little substitute reaper clear, but he kept trying to take what was Grimmjow’s! Wasn’t it enough of an insult that despite everything they had gone through, Grimmjow would never reach his level?
Ulquiorra’s energy swirled around him in a thick cloud that threatened to suffocate him. Grimmjow refused to let that be what did him in. He inhaled, drinking in the tangled mess of reiatsu like ichor. The wounds were deep, he would bleed out if he didn’t start to heal. Desperation clawed at his mind, and he struggled to keep himself conscious.
The sky lit with a green inferno. Ulquiorra’s reiatsu doubled, tripled. Grimmjow’s mind screamed as the blow back threatened to rip him apart. What had Ulquiorra been hiding from him? He turned his head and saw a blur in the distance. He struggled to focus on it and realized it was Ulquiorra in his released state.
His wings beat against the air as he dodged Kurosaki with ease. His silhouette appeared in front of the moon, and Grimmjow’s heart stuttered in his chest. He had always known Ulquiorra’s delicate appearance belied his brutality, but seeing him as his true self made Grimmjow’s heart ache.
The creature before him was so much stronger than him, so raw so… beautiful.
A tear rolled down Grimmjow’s cheek, and he hated himself for it. How weak was he? Pathetic. With Ulquiorra’s reiatsu all around him, he could imagine Ulquiorra standing beside him. The Ulquiorra in his imagination knelt beside him to whisper, “You were always weak, trash.”
Grimmjow gnashed his teeth and growled in frustration. No. He wouldn’t lose his mind. Not to this, not now. More tears pricked his eyes, and he ground his teeth until his jaw throbbed. He shouted, “I always wanted to be better than you! Stronger! I wanted you to see me!”
A memory bubbled to the surface, and Grimmjow recalled the first time he had ever laid his hand on Ulquiorra. He expected to lose it, but instead Ulquiorra turned into the touch. It sent a jolt through Grimmjow, and he mumbled, “Did you see me?”
Their relationship lacked any real direction at first. Fight, fuck, repeat. He couldn’t remember when it became a little more. When the fights lacked the same savage desire to kill and instead became foreplay. He couldn’t remember when they shared a bed the first time or when Ulquiorra first initiated a kiss. It had changed something then, and Grimmjow knew there was more to his wanting.
He had stopped wanting to surpass Ulquiorra and simply wanted Ulquiorra.
Another burst of reiatsu flared through the eternal night, familiar yet not. Red tinged the sky and a dark sensation crawled into Grimmjow’s gut, curling tightly around his insides. The new spiritual pressure overshadowed Ulquiorra’s; practically swallowed it. A flash of white darted across the sky with a trail of red hair.
Grimmjow whispered, “Kurosaki.”
The hollow had consumed Kurosaki; he had become a Vasto Lorde. Understanding slammed into Grimmjow while the sky lit up again. Ulquiorra will die.
No. There was no way. Grimmjow refused to believe Ulquiorra would fall. He was the strongest of them.
The sand whipped around Grimmjow as the two conflicting pressures clashed. Fear sank its claws into Grimmjow’s insides, and he screamed, “Don’t you fucking die, Ulquiorra! Don’t you fucking leave me!”
Ulquiorra’s energy arced and the sky lit with another explosion of his reiatsu. The roar of Kurosaki’s hollow side filled the air then everything went silent. Kurosaki’s energy dropped, and Grimmjow panted. Ulquiorra did it, he killed the bastard. Wait. No. Grimmjow flared his senses in search of Ulquiorra.
“Where, where. No. No.” Panic consumed him until he latched onto the frail signature. “No.”
Ulquiorra’s reiatsu dulled to almost nothing. No, no! Grimmjow forced himself to turn over, shouting when the wound to his shoulder pulsed. He clenched his jaw and forced himself onto his knees then his feet. Something was wrong, Ulquiorra had never felt that weak.
Grimmjow turned toward the battleground, his entire body screaming at him to collapse. He drug himself forward, stumbling through the sand. “Don’t die. Please don’t die. I’ll kill you if you die.” Each step felt like he was ripping apart, but he refused to go down. When his knees buckled, he forced his legs to lock. He needed to see Ulquiorra.
The energy grew dimmer until it was barely there. “No!” Grimmjow drew on what little reserves were left in his body and used sonido to push forward.
He made it to the crest of the hill before his body gave. His knees hit the peak of a dune and he tumbled down the other side to land hard on his stomach. Blood burbled up his throat, and he struggled not to retch.
Ulquiorra’s reiatsu disappeared.
“No.” Grimmjow jerked his head up to see the healer girl, Kurosaki, and Ulquiorra. Relief filled him before he felt cold realization swallow it. He was staring at a ghost.
Are you still scared of me?
What stood before him was not the man he craved. Grimmjow didn’t understand why he knew that, but he knew. Still he refused to accept it and struggled to force himself to his knees. He watched Ulquiorra lift his hand toward the woman. Her eyes widened in horror and she ran for him.
Grimmjow rasped, “Ulquiorra.” They were too far apart, always separated by something; distance, rank, their own denial.
The woman screamed Ulquiorra’s name.
In my hand, there is a heart.
A breeze cut past Grimmjow at the same time Ulquiorra’s body dissolved to dust. Grimmjow’s fingers flexed into claws, and a primal scream tore out of him. Tears rolled down his cheeks and his heart throbbed. He dropped his head to the sand and dug trenches with his claws. The wind whipped around him, and it almost felt like a hand through his hair. Grimmjow jerked his head up in time so see what remained of Ulquiorra disappear past his shoulder.
“No, don’t go.” Grimmjow reached for the specks. “I need you. I love you.” His hand dropped back to the sand, his consciousness fading. “Don’t… go.”