* info & warnings at bottom.

lacuna

(n.) a missing part; a blank space

Prologue

4 YRS AGO

"You think we'll ever get outta this hell hole?"

Ichigo did not respond. Grimmjow went on, shifting to find a more comfortable position on the log they were sharing.

"Growin' up learning about those soldiers who died at war – didn't imagine I would be one o' them in a couple years."

He heard a slight rustle as Ichigo turned to look at him. Grimmjow continued to stare at the moon, which was white and round and not nearly as luminous as he remembered.

"Fuck, Ichi. We're at war, and we don't even know who we're up against."

"I know." It was a brutal truth. They were at war with an unidentified enemy, and things seemed pretty bleak. Grimmjow felt Ichigo watching him. He honestly could not determine what he was feeling deep inside the pit of his stomach – disbelief, horror, excitement?

"We're killing people, and fighting to the death."

"… Yeah."

"We have no clue when it's going to be peaceful again, if ever."

Grimmjow's eyes flicked to the side just as Ichigo pulled his head down in a nod. The particularly large bruise he'd acquired that day was beginning to throb for no good reason. Grimmjow did not complain, though – never did. Some soldiers lay in eternal death; others spent the night groaning from fatal wounds. Just because the two partners were god-gifted fighters did not mean every other man suffered any less pain.

"Children might not live to see twenty. We might never grow old together."

He thought he heard the scowl in Ichigo's voice. "Grimm."

"We're all murderers now. Nothing'll ever be the same again."

"…"

"I can't lose you, all right?" Grimmjow clenched his fists, glaring holes into the damp grass they had set up camp on. "Every morning, I'm absolutely terrified that you won't be with me by sundown. Every night, I thank the stars that you are."

"Grimmjow. I can handle myself."

Only then did Grimmjow turn to look Ichigo in the eyes, noticing the way the latter's voice had dipped low in warning. Of course Grimmjow knew that, but it did not take his worries away. The next time Ichigo spoke, his tone had become significantly softer.

"We'll be okay," he said quietly, reaching up to run his thumb over Grimmjow's cheek. Ichigo leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on his partner's chapped lips.

To anyone else, his words created an empty promise. To the pair, every syllable was sincere. As long as they were fighting for the Alliance, fighting alongside one another, they knew that they were going to be okay.

The next morning was chaos. The city they were currently staying in had been ambushed; innocent civilians injured, houses torched. Several – children included – lay scorched and lifeless on the ground due to the explosives. The medical team was sent out to tend to civilians and soldiers alike, and that was when another wave of incendiaries hit.

Dozens were killed in mere seconds. The earlier ambush had been nothing but a decoy.

The first person Grimmjow looked for was Ichigo. He'd woken to the sound of terror, and the two had rushed out together before they were separated in the midst of insanity. Amongst all the screaming, crying, and desperate calling of names, his eyes frantically searched for a head of bright orange hair. He felt a panic rising rapidly within him when he couldn't find it. Shit, he'd been distracted; he should have never looked away in the first place, no matter how good of a fighter Ichigo was –

Orange. Ichigo was surrounded by a good number of soldiers, all closing in on him. He could handle them, right? Grimmjow took off in his partner's direction when he was stopped by an enemy troop, dressed from top to bottom in black. He roared in frustration, slamming his sword against his opponent's. His gaze constantly flickered between the soldier and Ichigo, desperate to get to his friend and infuriated that his attacks were continuously being parried.

It was barely a moment that Grimmjow had looked away – no more than a couple of seconds. He slashed the opponent's throat with a single concentrated swing, reveling in the splatter of blood he received in return. He'd whipped his head back toward where Ichigo…

Should have been.

A sense of dread pooled rapidly in the pit of Grimmjow's stomach as he scanned the area in a panic. His mind went numb, blotting out any coherent thought save for: find him.

And he did. Just as another challenger attacked, Grimmjow found wide auburn eyes through the crowds, lips frantically asking for murder – Ichigo, without a moment of hesitation, choosing death over being captured by the enemy. Grimmjow killed the man he was fighting with a single blow and made a mad dash for Ichigo. He could have reached for his throwing blade and quickly killed Ichigo with deadly aim. He was supposed to have, since that had been their promise from the start of the war several weeks ago. Death over betrayal.

But he couldn't. It was the only promise he'd made to Ichigo that Grimmjow had ever broken.

Grimmjow cried aloud, running faster than he'd ever run in his life, but it was not enough. The panicking crowd got in the way. He shoved through, slashing enemy throats as he sprinted. By the time his line of sight cleared again, Ichigo was gone. His head whipped from side to side as he searched in vain.

The deafening noises of dismay seemed to fade, Grimmjow unable to hear anything anymore other than the ringing in his ears. His head was pounding, heart leaping up into his mouth every time he took a breath. He felt as if his insides would spill from within him at any given moment. Something boiled over from deep in his throat, and he screamed as Abarai's strong arms caught him from behind, yanking him back to prevent him from making any reckless decisions. The battle had ended just as quickly as it had come, and the opposing army seemed to have vanished. The three or so prisoners of war Grimmjow's side had managed to capture all blew themselves up with the explosives they'd had within their clothing. The city was left practically destroyed and without any leads to the anonymous enemy.

It was all extremely vexing – at the very least. Grimmjow stood stone still as the surviving healers rushed about to aid the wounded and everyone else rushed to put out the blazing fires all over the city. He had not even noticed the smoke. Ichigo was gone.

Grimmjow found himself outside the city – when he had begun walking escaped his train of thought. Ichigo was gone.

He had been weak. He had failed to save his oldest friend and partner. And now Ichigo was gone.

Grimmjow's knees fell against the dirt, and he allowed the tears to spill over and pour down his cheeks, wiping the dried blood and grime as they fell. Grimmjow could not remember the last time he'd cried, but he knew he had never sobbed this hard in his entire life.

Ichigo was gone.

And that is it for the prologue! I wasn't planning on uploading this for a while, but I saw BRENDON URIE last night, and it was absolutely amazing, so I had to! In honour of Panic! at the Disco, here you go!

Please let me know what you think!

Jou

Warnings for shitty (modern) language, time skipping/rewinding, possible character death, & eventual LOVIN' (coughcough that means MATURE homo action, yes?). This story will consist of fantastical aspects, set in a medieval time, so if that isn't your cup of tea, feel free to leave. Thank you.