The Answer
Warm. The sand is warm. Coarse. It irritates.
Get up.
It hurts. My chest, my side, my shoulder.
Hurts.
I feel. Warmth and pain.
I live.
The consciousness returns slowly, bringing the sounds of a fight from far away.
A fight. My shoulder. Hurts.
Nnoitra.
Son of a bitch.
Anger. Muscles tense, hand instinctively clenches into a fist, looking for the hilt of a sword. The sand spills between my fingers, warm, coarse, dry.
I live.
Shinigami…
Shinigami?
All pieces of the puzzle slowly find their places.
The girl. Ulquiorra. The azure sky.
Black cloak. Black sword.
And those spiky, outrageously orange hair.
Shinigami.
Kurosaki Ichigo.
"You have lost."
To you? Never. I am strong… I'm the Sexta Espada. You are no match for me…
Don't you dare look down on me, Kurosaki Ichigo!
To live. I want to live. I won't lose…
Bare hand stops an arm holding a sword ready to strike.
"Enough, Grimmjow… You have lost."
I have lost? That's bullshit, shinigami… You'll see, we haven't finish-…
It hurts.
I have lost?
The shinigami's eyes are serious, that gaze seems to pierce him through, uncovering things deeply hidden… It unnerves him.
Why do you look at me like this, Kurosaki Ichigo?
I don't need your pity. I don't need your mercy. I should feel anger right now…
Why can I only feel gratitude?
"You have lost, Grimmjow."
Have I?
Yes. I have.
It hurts. In a different way.
You'll pay for this, Nnoitra.
"Die already."
I didn't die. I live.
The shinigami's black coat blocks off the view. The clash of metal as the two swords cross.
I live.
Why, Kurosaki Ichigo? I am an Espada. Three times we fought to the death. Two of these times I have almost killed you. Why then… why are you letting me live?
The sand is warm and coarse. Far away the battle continues, guessing from the sounds it's slowly reaching its crucial point. Yet it's too far away to recognize the reiatsu of the fighters.
Go to hell, Nnoitra. But as for you, shinigami…
I will get you, Kurosaki Ichigo. And you will answer me.
Don't you dare die until then.
