Hueco Mundo is a world unlike the realm of the living. It is not tamed by a single species that denies its instincts, shrouding themselves in a false veil of civility. No, the endless desert plains are a constant battleground, governed by power and fear. A place where the strong exist to feed upon the weak and pile their bodies to be used as a ladder for the next step in evolution. It is here that the brutality of nature remains undisturbed by human intervention.
The throne in Hueco Mundo is exchanged rapidly between those with the sharpest claws and fangs but recently there has been a disturbance in the balance of the Hollow's twisted form of government. Three figures have appeared, binding and enslaving them for a cause not their own. They are respected because they are vehement and fearless in addition to their godlike ability to rend their opposition to shreds with an idle wave of their hands. But they are Shinigami and they do not know the laws of the desert while there are natives who are equally steadfast that do.
Grimmjow Jeagerjaques is one such denizen, a creature who has never known terror and familiarizes himself with the ancient ways: the code that dictates who is fit to live and die by trial of constant fighting and hunger. He has survived for centuries on end, killing, devouring, growing in the crystalline forest below the surface, a testament to the breed of creature that should truly be at the helm of the darkest of the three worlds.
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It's close.
A red blast of energy illuminated the night sky, punching a hole in a shelf of solid rock that drained billions of white grains into a cavernous subterranean expanse. Out from the shadows, a cat-like silhouette emerged from the whirlpool of sand. Its body was small compared to others of its class, housing unimaginable power within a sleek, muscular frame that was stark white with black lines of varying width curving around appendages and breaking in its abdomen where a perfect circle resided.
Dark paws padded along the dunes, taking eager steps towards a phantasmagorical palace looming on the horizon. Icy blue eyes, the only hint of color for as far as one could see were narrowed, a predatory gleam set hard at the distant structure.
His stomach ached, begged for sustenance. Thousands of Hollow souls combined with the millions of human voices they had ingested screamed inside his head, clawing at the back of his skull for release. He was close, he could feel it. Evolution to Vasto Lorde was only an inch from his nose, hovering tauntingly just out of reach. It had been days since he had taken the masks of his followers and that had been the event that served as a catalyst to his final ascension. All he needed now was something more, a single soul that oozed reiryoku to give him a push to the next stage. That was why he was where he was, in front of Las Noches, searching for an above-average being to meld into his flesh.
"Weak, the lot of them. All so weak!" He growled, breaking into a sprint towards the ivory castle, the reverse moon at his side, acting as the only unchanging beacon of light in the abysmal tumult that was Hueco Mundo. "Only one more, one strong one. That's all I need."
Grimmjow bounded over the tops of sunken arbor jutting up from the ground, moving at blinding speed until the air became thick with reiatsu. The panther skidded to a halt and spun to see a figure walking regally along the moonlit plains. Unlike him, his skin was dark and he had a length of black hair pulled back into a low ponytail over top a thick orange scarf. This man was not Hollow and he was not attempting to hide it. He wore a white Haori and mirrored glasses in accessory to a standard Shinigami shihakushou.
When the feline Adjuchas had initially set out for a meal, he didn't expect to find this but he was desperate and if whoever this person was met him before any Espada then so be it. His Hollow hole reacted to the man's very presence, contracting violently at the thought of ripping him to shreds. He didn't need any more than that. Grimmjow charged, watching as the Shinigami turned his blind stare over to him and ceased walking before appearing next to him in a gust of shunpo, clutching his maw tight with a single hand. "I am Espada Commander Tousen Kaname," he announced humbly, seemingly unaware of the vicious attempts by the subdued berserker to claw him to death, dodging lazily to the side every so often. "You are strong; Aizen-sama would have a high place for you in his arm-" A furious lash courtesy of Grimmjow's spine-like tail cut his sentence short, knocking his iron grip loose enough for him to escape the hold.
"I didn't ask who you were," the panther snarled, moving to pounce but catching a hard kick in the ribs that sent him into a death roll. "What is your name, beast?" Tousen inquired calmly, strolling over to where his opponent laid, his sword bouncing at his hip. He came to a stop next to him and refused to move even when he leapt to his paws. "I don't introduce myself to food," Grimmjow retorted venomously, eyes widening when a mocha-skinned hand grabbed his cheek and tore a quarter of his mask away, revealing half of a human mouth beneath. "Forgive me," the Captain apologized to the writhing, bleeding creature. "It is not my wish to cause you pain. Allow me to ease your suffering and show you to Aizen-sama." The sound of steel grating against smooth wood was the last thing the Adjuchas heard before two barely audible words took him from consciousness.
"Cry...Suzumushi."
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Time passed and Grimmjow awoke in a bleak prison cell, lit only by dancing flames of torchlight. His vision was blurred and there was a throbbing dull pain centered on the lower-left corner of his face. Breathing pained him and the dry stagnant, dry air scratched at his throat. An attempt to lift his head resulted in another few hours of uncomfortable slumber.
An iron gate slammed open, jolting him upright. The panther rose to his feet and hefted a paw to discover that his rear ankles were chained to the ceiling where he couldn't tamper with the bindings. They were made of some kind of odd material that made his body feel like lead and drain his spiritual power entirely. He shook his head to clear his senses and panned around his cell, observing that the floor and walls were made of the same suppressing stone as his shackles. It was a dark gray and it didn't refract the already limited light, making the chamber much darker,
"Alright, here we are," a gruff tone muttered disinterestedly underneath the sounds of a ferocious barking that echoed throughout the dungeon. "I said shut up!" the same voice shouted.
Grimmjow's eyes shot over to the entrance of his cell where a burly shadow punched what appeared to be a wild animal through the gate, causing it to sail through the air and smash against the wall with a high whimper. Whatever had hit him stepped inside and pulled two more lines of chain down from the ceiling and attached them to the cuffs adorning the other inmate's hind legs. Upon locking them secure, he promptly left, rolling the metal bars shut behind him.
Several minutes passed without a noise as the slumping heap in the corner remained still, a pair of triangular ears flattened against its skull.
"Not like this." It sighed. "I can't let it happen like this."
"Took the words right out of my mouth," Grimmjow spat in agreement, alerting the other Hollow to his presence which didn't necessarily provide foundation for a friendly conversation.
It whipped around, hackles raised and teeth bared. But when it got a good look at who the speaker had been, it calmed and sat on its haunches. "I can't believe they got you too."
The two recognized each other by scent, they had both been leaders of ragtag groups bent on evolving and formed a truce drawn in hunting grounds. Now, they were jailed together, two like beings that were small Adjuchas' with power and potential. Where one was a panther, the other was a wolf.
"Believe it, Starrk. Quit complaining and get talking. Where are we?" The former demanded, pacing around and testing the limits of his restraints. "Under Las Noches," Starrk answered grimly, spitting a red glob of saliva to the side. "I sensed that you were getting ready to evolve and I followed you at a distance, waiting for your transformation so that I could eat you and evolve myself. When I picked up on a fight, I went ahead to try and catch you injured but some strange looking thing had already torn off a piece of your mask. Then he apologized and slapped these pain-in-the-ass bracelets on me." He explained, noting the horrified expression he got from the panther at the bit about his mask.
Grimmjow brought a shaky paw to the pain on his face and sneered when he touched a partially human jaw. "No," he groused. "I was so close…so fucking close!" He screamed, gnashing his teeth, tearing at his bondage in blind rage. "I'll kill that bastard! I'll remember you Tousen Kaname!"
Starrk could do nothing but observe his cellmate's actions with the utmost pity. His mask was still whole after all and he could neither sympathize nor empathize with Grimmjow's pain. To have your mask destroyed in battle and survive was a mark of shame amongst Menos Grande but to have it broken by something that wasn't even Hollow…that was far less than what he thought the panther deserved. If he was going to stop evolving then he should at least see the next stage as a part of someone else in death.
Hueco Mundo's mercilessly endless night continued on without any sleep for the pair of fallen warriors.
Day, or at least the timeslot for when the nonexistent sun would rise, came agonizingly slow in Las Noches' arid and unventilated detention facility.
"No hard feelings about me trying to eat you?" Starrk murmured, the first words he had spoken since breaking the news of the mask. He risked a glance over to the being in question and frowned the best his facial structure would allow him to when he noticed him sulking facedown in his paws. "It's a pretty underhanded thing to do but when it comes to evolving," Grimmjow began in a tone of utter defeat. "I guess it's what most of us would've done so I don't really care. As far as I'm concerned, I'm too angry at Tousen to fit anyone else in right now."
The wolf nodded in understanding, relieved that the tensions in the cell had been cleared. "Glad to hear it. I didn't want my time in here to be-" He bit his tongue at the sound of footsteps coming from the narrow hallway between prison blocks. Even Grimmjow's head pricked up at the development, waiting, fangs bared to whoever was brave enough to tread near him.
Two women rounded the corner briskly, taking long strides to position themselves in front of their assigned "guests". One had dark skin that clashed with her braided blonde hair. Her eyes were half-lidded in questionable apathy above an immodest white jacket that left the bottom half of her ample breasts exposed while the missing fabric was relocated to cover her mouth. The other had a cartoonish skull decorating her long head of seafoam hair. She had magenta facial markings that stretched across her nose and although equally well-endowed in comparison to her partner, she wore a full-body uniform.
Wordlessly, they unlocked the gate and tossed in the corpse of a regular Hollow, almost an insult to the two Adjuchas. It was barely enough to keep Starrk from reverting to a Gillian and satisfy Grimmjow's pointless hunger which was most likely the idea.
"Eat before the stone absorbs all of its power," the green-haired woman pleaded, wringing her hands while her associate merely tipped up her eyelids. When there was no response, the latter turned to leave but she was stopped by a hand on her shoulder and a shaking head. "We have orders from Aizen-sama to educate you daily about Las Noches while he is away in Soul Society and another order from Ichimaru-sama to 'keep you from biting off your own tongues' as he put it."
"Fuck your Aizen-sama." Grimmjow and Starrk bellowed in unison. That name was familiar to them, they had heard it being tossed around the forest like prayer to a deity but true Hollows had no business with anyone but themselves and they let the world know it. Still…that didn't stop them from gorging on the carcass in front of them; they were slaves to their appetites no matter the circumstances.
Seeing this as the best time for introduction, the Arrancar spoke up. "I'm Nelliel Tu Oderschvank but you can call me Nel or Nel Tu if you like. I'm the Tercera Espada and I like reading, playing tag, or having fun with my friends when I'm not training or out on missions." Grimmjow and Stark looked up from disemboweling the dead creature to give the woman a weary look. When the wolf returned to snatching up the prized liver, the panther moved his eyes over to the only quiet one in the vicinity. "Please tell me you're a lower rank than her, lady because I really need a laugh right now." He grumbled, blue blood running down his lips. "Tia Harribel, Segunda Espada in Aizen-sama's army. My rank is due to the reservation of the Primera's seat."
Grimmjow cursed under his breath as he resumed the impromptu feast, apparently a green light for Nel to strike up a conversation, this time on a much more serious note. "We're sorry that you have to live in these conditions. It isn't right for Grimmjow Jeagerjaques and Coyote Starrk: two of the oldest and most powerful Adjuchas-class Hollows," she whispered, grasping one of the bars and leaning close to the cell. No matter how much stronger she was than the two of them, she couldn't help but feel a chill run down her spine when four hard and ancient eyes peered over a pile of gutless remains. "We don't need sympathy from some youngblood Arrancar who gave up trying to become Vasto Lorde just for some quick power that isn't even hers." Nel was taken aback; her face contorted into a pout and signaled Harribel's turn to take the initiative in an uncharacteristically talkative fashion.
"You will be detained here due to your exemplary potential, never allowed to leave until Aizen-sama obtains the Hougyoku and makes you into Arrancar whether you agree or not so I highly recommend that you get on good terms with us because we will be the only people you see outside of yourselves for decades," she remarked bitterly, tilting her head to prevent a chunk of flesh from hitting her in the nose. "We will return tomorrow to feed and inform you of your future duties. It is best to resign yourselves to the inevitable now, harboring delusions of escape and defeating Aizen-sama will only lead to great disappointment, I assure you."
They left as fast as they came, Nel falling in line next to her superior after giving the prisoners a remorseful farewell. Their words stayed however, seeping into the walls and the minds of the captives.
"Arrancar, huh?" Grimmjow repeated to himself. "Doesn't really matter now that my mask is broken. But like hell I'm going to lie down and let Aizen make me his bitch." He concluded, seizing the heart from the mutilated Hollow to emphasize his point. "I'm not going to entertain your pipe dreams," Starrk dismissed, curling into a ball and tucking his head between his thigh and tail. "Do what you want, King. I'm overdue for a nap and at least we can sleep here without worrying about getting eaten." He brushed off the carnal hiss aimed at his direction and relaxed, allowing slumber to take him elsewhere. Grimmjow sneered at the sight, wondering how he could take it all in stride especially when he still had a whole mask. "Weakling…not even gonna try fighting? Well then go ahead and rot in here!"
Sometime in the afternoon, a servant came to fetch the remains of the 'food'. Unluckily for him, he ventured too close to the panther and became what he was charged to retrieve. After that, Nel and Harribel came each day to personally take care of the cleanup. Then the divulging of intelligence commenced, consisting mostly of Nel rambling about what it was like to serve Aizen and what kind of experiences she has as an Espada with the soft-spoken Segunda adding only what she thought was useful to the flood of incoherent bits of information. Grimmjow and Starrk treated them as if they weren't even there at first but over time, they began to ask questions out of boredom.
Months passed and the four learned to tolerate each other.
Years passed and the four became on peaceful terms.
Decades passed and the four looked forward to their meetings every day, no longer restricting the conversations to formal exchanges of uninteresting facts. Harribel would often talk about how she loved to swim in the one of the many hidden reservoirs dug under Las Noches and Nel would relate her daily happenings with her fraccion or the fights with Nnoitra that made the two inmates want to skin him alive. Their relationship grew into casual friendships forged by mutual understanding and the knowledge that conflict would result in nothing gained. So they talked, shared stories of the Menos Forest, and speculated on what the future would hold until one day…
"Yo, Tia. Where's Nel?" Grimmjow asked, curiosity peaked. He stretched the lengths of his chains to the maximum and attempted to peer around the bars, hoping to spot a lock or two of seafoam silk hiding playfully out of sight.
"She won't be joining us anymore…"
Hueco Mundo is an hourglass, spinning at every event, changing unpredictably, ravaging all with the unforgiving sands of time.
…………………………
"Aizen-sama has defected and obtained the Hougyoku. He has requested you, Grimmjow to be the second who inherits its power."
The iron gate opened with a rattle and Harribel undid the panther's restraints but left the energy suppressing cuffs fastened to his legs. "See you on the other side," Starrk muttered, tacking on a chaste 'good luck' when Grimmjow was fitted with a leashed collar of the same gray stone. "Just a precaution, I had nothing to do with it," the dark-skinned woman stated blandly, sharing a scowl with the two Adjuchas.
As fate would have it, the collar became absolutely necessary when Grimmjow entered the throne room of Las Noches and came face to face with the man who broke his mask.
Tousen refused to acknowledge the beast combating his captor's vice-grip on his chain leash with everything he had in an attempt to gut him. He was as he always had been, standing solemnly next to Aizen who smiled at his newest creation's vigor. A minute went by, nothing but mocking praise and promises of great strength from the brown-haired ex-Captain.
Grimmjow felt the Hougyoku pressed to his forehead and transformed in the blink of an eye. His body went numb and his vision faded to black, the orb of distortion warping the boundaries of his soul. When it was removed, he fell naked to his knees and stared wide-eyed at the floor as his bondage was discarded for the first time in nearly a century.
This is it? This is what I get after failing to evolve? This is nothing!
"My, my still so powerful even though your mask was broken and you were exposed to only a fraction of the Hougyoku's true abilities. I'm impressed; your reiatsu is at Espada levels. I think I can fit you in right below Nnoitra."
"Hmm…perhaps we should give Starrk some time since his results should be similar. I'll wait for it to awaken just a little more."
It was impossible, there was no way he could oppose the man he was forced to serve. Grimmjow resigned himself and swallowed his pride, biding his time and training to bridge the gap between him and Aizen so that he could crush him beneath his heel. He took it all in stride, keeping his rage in check when he obtained his first uniform, when he was pushed on his stomach and branded a gothic six, and when those who had been weaker than him in Adjuchas form surpassed him effortlessly without an ounce of sweat.
But there were times where he could reflect and establish his own identity as an Arrancar like the times where he swam in the freezing underground pools with Harribel or taught himself the Spanish guitar alongside the Primera or took long walks in the moonlit desert, oblivious to the games of endless pursuit being played in the distance. These things calmed him but never alleviated the new form of emptiness welling up inside his chest, a humiliating sense of failure and inadequacy.
Though sometimes, he could look up at the reverse moon and sense that someone else had experienced this same suffering on the other side where the crescent faced the other way.
Author's Note: Yup, took a risk by making Starrk an Adjuchas but I left it open for some time just in case he actually is a Vasto Lorde. That way he could've evolved before being exposed to the Hougyoku. Him being a wolf is due to his release Los Lobos which is literally 'the wolves'. Seeing as how most Arrancar's zanpakuto's names are what their old forms used to be, I took it upon myself to throw the dice.
Anyway, check out Los Pantera if you're a fan of Grimm/Soi.
Don't forget to review on your way out.