Sorry for weird formatting, this was typed on Google Drive so. Herp.

Also I told myself Christmas and here it is two days late SORRY.

Enjoy. .w.


Grimmjow is not nervous. He's not. He doesn't get nervous. In fact, he hasn't been nervous all day. Not since he got up, not since he got dressed. He had no appetite for breakfast but that is completely normal, fuck you very much.

His Zanpakuto is a comforting weight at his back, and he swallows before heading out to his class. Today, they are not meeting in the classroom or in one of the training rooms. They, and several other classes, are meeting in the courtyard. This is not a session that will be run by their sensei, either. This will be run by some of the older students, because everyone is being tested today.

How well do the older students take charge? (No idea, Grimmjow's never met them and he doesn't care.) Who can work well in a group? (Three guesses.) Who can't? (Bingo, not Grimmjow.) Who actually succeeds today? (He plans to.)

Their task is simple. Go into the human realm, the one where actual mortal physical people live, and kill a hollow without damaging the surrounding area or tipping off any spirit-sensitive humans.

Well. It sounds simple.

Grimmjow keeps to the edges of the excited crowd when he arrives. Everyone is whispering, talking over one another, speculating about the day. Grimmjow has great grades on paper, and okay marks for practical application. His swordwork is top notch, but his kido needs work and what if he sees a Hollow and everything goes out the window? They've been taught all about Hollow hierarchy and biology, but there's something squirming in Grimmjow's stomach. Something that is like excitement and thirst all at once.

He doesn't know what to name it and it feels like a bad thing only because it feels so right.

He's not nervous, and he absolutely doesn't excuse himself to disappear around the corner of a building to vomit up everything he ate last night.

"Prrrrrow?"

Grimmjow looks up to see Shoga floating calmly in the air, as though some invisible person is holding him by the scruff of his neck. Shoga's two tails are waving in time with one another for once, and Grimmjow sneers angrily, annoyed at being caught.

"I feed you." He hisses defensively at the yokai. "You tell no one."

Nekomata, among other things, typically have the power of speech. Shoga, as an individual, either isn't physically capable or simply refuses. And as he has no problem meowing and purring, Grimmjow finds it hard to believe that he can't shape those sounds into words.

Shoga just looks at him with intelligently glittering eyes, and Grimmjow shakes his head and walks away, back to the group. He showed up early like everyone else, but now he might be late.

He gets there just in time to catch the trail end of the safety briefing the older students give them, but this time he's legitimately unworried. To him, advice like don't goof off should be common sense in this situation.

Then, the portal is opened, and the students file through. Passing through, Grimmjow feels nothing. The atmosphere doesn't change, nor the temperature, and he can still see well ahead of himself despite the darkness in the distance. It doesn't feel like anything at all, simply a change of scenery. Something tugs at his mind, like it often does, a memory of waving his hand through the air and the sky opening up, of blackness and water on your skin and creating your own path.

He shakes the half-memory away. Today, he's going to forget where he came from and focus on this assignment. This separates the wheat from the chaff, and Grimmjow does not fancy getting kicked out or held back when he's come so far.

They get the safety briefing again when they've all assembled in the human realm and are put into a rough approximation of a formation. Everyone is too excited to really obey, including all of the more serious students. Grimmjow is more enraptured by subtly stealing glances at their surroundings-they're in a field in a park, open enough to accommodate all of the students, and it's night time here. Grimmjow's uniform feels itchy, or maybe that's just him. And yet, the older students succeed in getting his attention.

"We are joined today by someone who you may have read about in your textbooks if you have the newer editions. He's going to give you a few tips, so you are expected to listen."

Grimmjow, being a head taller than most of the other students, still has to crane his neck to see who the hell they're talking about. At the front, with the older students, there is a man wearing a shinigami uniform, his Zanpakuto strapped comfortably to his hip. His orange hair is shocking, but he's going a bit gray at the temples. There is an easy smile on his face.

And he is looking directly at Grimmjow.

His eyes are brownbrownbrown and Grimmjow can't look away, feels frozen to the spot. He clenches his fists open and closed over and over, trying to do something, to move. He does not have the newer edition of the textbooks, who is this guy-

"And most importantly-" The man says with an air of finality. "don't get distracted."

Shockingly well-timed, at the end of his sentence, there is a roar that shakes the ground that rings out over the park. The students turn, searching for the sound but-

Something in Grimmjow just knows.

If he was assigned a group, he wouldn't know who they were anyway. Zeroing in on the sound, Grimmjow begins to run towards it. There is something about this that tugs at his memory, his muscles begging him to shift from the demanding shunpo to the easier sonido, his nose turning up into the wind and his lips parting just so in the attempt to catch a scent. A flash of orange hair clouds his vision but it's just a memory, who was that-it's a distraction, but one that Grimmjow can't help at all.

He breaks through the trees and there it is. It looks like a giant worm with a mask for a face, and a big hole through the center. It turns towards Grimmjow immediately because dammit, he forgot to hide his reiatsu.

Strike one.

The worm raises its tail (ass?) to swat at him, but Grimmjow is already gone. He circles the beast, looking for an opening, looking for hidden dangers. Some of his classmates have followed him and are doing the same. Everyone wants to be the first to land a blow. Grimmjow watches two of them launch a simultaneous attack, and watches them both get swatted away like flies, like annoyances. The third student who attacks is merely shrugged off in annoyance.

Grimmjow watches, and he waits. His blood feels hot and has begun to sing in his ears. He feels like he could do this forever. All emotion has drained away, leaving only focus and some kind of glee that is like want and thirst all at once.

The beast roars as a student lands a blow on the back of its neck, and Grimmjow takes his chance while it's distracted. He gets right up to its face and unsheathes his Zanpakuto, ready to strike-

"Who are you?" The beast burbles at him. But it's still roaring, how-? Grimmjow looks around. No one else can hear this, it seems, because none of them have looked up. He feels frozen. "You hunt like one of usssss. Are you going to eat me, little worm? Cut me up with your sharp knives and eat me?"

Grimmjow holds the hilt of his sword more tightly.

"What are you waiting for?!" A voice behind him demands, outraged, and honestly Grimmjow is wondering that, too.

"You hunt like one of us. Make all the right movements. But you can't be one of us, you don't kill like us. We use our teeth!"

Strike two.

Grimmjow hops back, holding his right shoulder and biting back a sound of pain. It bit him. It bit him. There is a fury Grimmjow has not known in a long time rising up in him, the kind of fury that promises he will lose his mind to it if he lets himself. Blood is soaking his uniform, and as Grimmjow is right-handed, he may well now be, as they say, boned. He has the suspicion that it was trying to bite his sword arm entirely off but for whatever reason didn't quite manage it.

The worm is laughing now, advancing upon him. Grimmjow does not hesitate a second time. He switches his Zanpakuto from his right hand to his left, braces himself, and then launches from the ground towards the beast. His heart is pounding, and his jaw aches from clenching it so tightly shut. He draws his sword down, hard, on the Hollow's mask, cleaving it cleanly in two. The beast gives a dying gargle before dissipating entirely, off to start a new life in the Soul Society.

He's just feeling the first sighs of relief when the ground starts to rumble, and a screech breaks through the night air.

"You killed him, you killed him!" The wail fills Grimmjow's head until his ears are ringing, and he goes to cover at least one while he tries to figure out where this new creature is coming from.

He steps back, looking over his shoulder.

Strike three. You're out.

A white arm shoots out of the ground under Grimmjow's feet, and he's able to regain his balance with ease, but he's surprised and a bit distracted by the searing pain in his shoulder, so when it smacks him in the stomach and knocks the wind out of him, he wheezes, his lungs refusing to inhale. There's a tree at his back and when did that happen? He looks up-it seems he broke several other trees on his way here.

He can't think. He feels dazed, and his head is spinning. He stands shakily, needing to put a hand on his own knee to lever himself up. He looks around, confused. There's a monster thrashing in the distance, and people are screaming. What is he doing here? Grimmjow rubs his head and lets out a soft groan.

He's been hurt in training a few times, but nothing serious. The sensei won't let them get too involved to the point that a serious injury would be a risk. Yet this still feels familiar. The sharp ache in his back, the ringing in his ears, the blood pouring down his torso and staining his school uniform. Grimmjow rolls both shoulders, the pain spiking steeply. It feels… good. There's a rushing in his veins and his eyesight has spots but there is something like hunger and something like thirst in his belly and in his throat and…

He looks at his palm, painted red with his own blood. His heart is pounding, he can feel it in his chest but he can't feel his hand around the hilt of his zanpakuto even though he knows he's still holding it. His vision has narrowed to the blood, now dripping down his wrist in one tiny rivulet. He feels his cheeks bunch and his lips stretch and he's grinning the widest he's ever grinned. He looks to the Hollow, thrashing and fighting the remaining students.

He wants to see more. He wants to feel more. More more MORE.

Grimmjow rushes to get back into the fight, but there's a flash of orange hair and there's their weird guest guy, dispatching the Hollow with more ease than Grimmjow has ever seen any of his sensei demonstrate anything. Grimmjow stops, watching from yards away, the grin slowly fading off of his face. The guy checks on the other students who were injured, and there were a lot of them, before he looks at Grimmjow.

Those eyes.

Grimmjow feels lost. There's a fire in his belly and his throat and it's stopping him from saying anything, from even moving. There's sound and action around him, there's an angry older student coming his way and Grimmjow is reasonably sure that he's about to be informed that he's in big fucking trouble, but he can't bring himself to feel it at all. He can't see anything except those eyes.

The older student is talking to him, and Grimmjow finds his feet and walks towards the man with the orange hair and the honey eyes-

"Jaegerjaquez!"

The older student has stepped in front of him, stopping his progress, and the man with the honey eyes has looked away because somebody has started talking to him, too, and Grimmjow is tall so it's easy to ignore the senpai who is stopping him from talking to the most important man Grimmjow has ever known to exist but the moment is gone and broken and all Grimmjow can do is watch as orange hair walks away.

Things change after that. Not drastically, but they change. Grimmjow is used to being ignored, when he moves from training room to classroom, or suspiciously whispered about in the halls or the cafeteria. But now when he has to leave a room, ducking because of the tiny door frames, people stop and stare. They call out to him, sometimes insults, sometimes just hey. In the cafeteria, when people notice he's walked in, it spreads like wildfire and there's silence for a moment before renewed conversation rises up like a wave.

He doesn't really know what to do with this. He was assigned an extra long paper on the importance of understanding Hollow behavior and how that relates to working in a team in addition to all his other work as a punishment, but among the student body his recklessness has led to a sort of acceptance. Apparently, he's shown that he can be just as stupid as the rest of them. He's shown he's human.

It takes a lot of getting used to.

Near graduation, a cute girl he doesn't know hands him an invitation with a time and an address. Grimmjow watches her go, confused, and decides,maybe he'll make one more bad decision. He doesn't think he's ever been to a party, not even when he was human. At least, he has no memory of it whatsoever.

"And with that, I leave you to your work. Show me what you can do." Ichigo grins brightly at the group of young students in front of him.

They've all worked hard to be here, and some of their fellows couldn't take the pressure and as a result there's only about ten of them left, but Ichigo is proud of them. They've spent a lot of time preparing, and they've certainly both taken a load off of his hands and put more responsibility on his shoulders. But because of their hard work, the only thing left to do now is let them go spread their wings and test their mettle as fully-fledged doctors.

So he gets a week-long vacation (though, on call, as always) and he plans to use it productively, with a visit to the Soul Society. Tetsuzaemon Iba is getting ready to retire, and there are meetings Ichigo has to take part in if he plans on taking Iba's place. He already has the blessings of the other captains, it's just a matter of getting through this transition period, as Ichigo does want to live out the rest of his life on earth before joining the 13 Court Guard Squads. He has a lot of homework to do, because he doesn't plan on going to the Academy, he needs to learn the history and the laws of the Seireitei before he formally takes over.

Mostly it's resulted in a lot of late-night reading of thick packets, but Ichigo thinks he's got a pretty good handle on it all anyway.

He leaves work that day with a spring in his step, excitement coloring his mood. At seven o'clock on the dot, Renji and Rukia show up to bring him to the Soul Society. Ichigo could make it there himself, of course, but there must be formalities to all this, and it's not like it's a chore to see his old friends again.

They take the long way, because why not, and go through the Rukongai to get through the Seireitei. They chat about nothing in particular until they come to a house in the first district. There's lights coming from inside, and loud music, and Ichigo regards it with amusement.

"What's going on in there?" He asks, stopping his friends just a moment.

"Oh, graduating class at the Academy puts on a party every year. So long as they don't get too rowdy, the sensei just kind of ignore it." Renji snickers.

"It's notorious for getting too rowdy." Rukia mutters, scowling, clearly remembering her own graduating year party.

Suddenly, a window breaks and a bottle rolls out into the street. As they watch, drunken students come pouring out of the front door.

And then things start to happen very, very quickly.

Grimmjow is white-knuckling the countertop, going from being completely unable to look himself in the mirror to unable to look away. There's been knocking on and off at the bathroom door, but he hasn't answered it at all. The lock has held so far, and that's good enough for him.

What the fuck is he even doing here?

He's alone. He doesn't know anyone. People took one look at him walking in and scattered to make room, but nobody tried talking to him. Nobody came over with a drink or anything. Standing around awkwardly has never been Grimmjow's cup of tea. He found the bathroom and has been here ever since, who knows how long it's been.

This is a feeling Grimmjow is utterly unfamiliar with. Lost, floundering, drowning. He thinks briefly of actually drowning himself, and part of him thinks just smashing the mirror and slitting his own throat would be faster.

Maybe he'll just, y'know, sneak out and go to his dorm instead.

You should leave.

In a minute, he needs to splash his face with water, compose himself-

Now. There's something going on out there.

Grimmjow lifts his dripping face from the sink, looking at the door. His eyes go to the space underneath it- there's flickering orange light there. Cautiously, disbelieving, Grimmjow reaches out and touches the wood of the door, spreading his fingers out over the surface and pressing his palm flat. It's warm. Too warm to be from his own hand or even from some kind of heating vent on the other side.

Fire.

Grimmjow doesn't hesitate. Instead of trying the door, he turns and puts his foot through the bathroom window. It's tiny, and he has to push out all of the little pieces of glass that remain in the frame before he tries forcing his body through the opening. He gets his right arm, shoulder, and head before he hears the bathroom door crack behind him. He feels a curious absence of panic that he knows he doesn't have time to analyze. Bracing his right hand on the wall outside, he fights to pull and push himself out of the window.

It hurts like a bitch, but at some point his other shoulder pops out, and then he's using both hands and his waist is tiny as hell so it's more of a matter of catching himself on the ground. He rolls and lays in the grass for a moment, looking back. There are flames billowing out of the window he just came from, along with several others.

Grimmjow groans softly and rolls, putting his hands on the ground and pushing himself up. Looks like his choice was made for him. He stumbles into the street, coughing a little as smoke blows into his face. He can't see because it's in his eyes and something soft-yet-solid hits him (or maybe he hits it) and instinctively he reaches out to steady himself. He knows what he grabs are shoulders.

The smoke clears and-

And honey eyes and orange hair and something more like a smile than like panic, considering there's a fire.

"Uh." Grimmjow manages intelligently.

"Hey." That voice.

Grimmjow's head feels light and he can't tell if it's the smoke or the guy in front of him, and he can't let go or step away. His words are getting stuck in his throat, what is this. His heart is pounding again, racing, his breaths aren't coming like they should, he feels like he can't breathe.

"A party, Grimmjow?" The man murmurs to him. "Really?"

Grimmjow swallows. "Who the fuck are you?" He forces out, his voice more gravel than he really intended it to be. How does this guy know his name?

There's an expression Grimmjow can't identify on the man's face. Hands alight on his waist, making him jump a little. They're just staring at each other and it's weird but it's not, and this guy knows something about him.

"Remember your promise to me, Grimm?" Those honey eyes have the fire reflected in them and Grimmjow is breathless.

"I remember. I think." Grimmjow feels helpless against this, whatever it is. "Iba's retiring. I'm going to be his lieutenant. He approached me with the position last week." He can't make himself stop talking. The proposal had been out of fucking nowhere, but Grimmjow would be lying if he said he didn't have his sights set on that exact spot anyway. "I said yes."

The man smiles. "Then I'll see you there."

He squeezes Grimmjow's waist like he doesn't want to let go but then he does, pulling away from Grimmjow entirely and walking away, passed him, towards the Seireitei. Grimmjow turns, watching him go, wishing he knew what was going on and why he doesn't feel as upset about this as he's pretty sure he should.

Grimmjow didn't realize shooting right to lieutenant would mean so much paperwork. Iba certainly does his fair share, and it's not bad being his subordinate, but Grimmjow really doesn't enjoy authority. It's having freedom dangled in front of your eyes and being bound by pesky things like duty. It bothers him.

But his new quarters are nice. Larger than his room at the academy, and he has the freedom to decorate it with whatever he wants, nor does he have to share it with anyone. The trouble is, he has no idea what he likes. The shawl Babaa gave him hangs delicately on the wall where it won't get damaged, and Shoga can usually be found curled up on his pillow while Grimmjow works at his desk by the window.

More than ever he's haunted by honey eyes and orange hair and a name. He's pretty sure it's ee-oh-something-something, and he knows it belongs to this guy, but…

His dreams are made of white sand and clashing swords, red pillars that stretch to the sky and pain and blood. He dreams of laying in the sand and bleeding slowly, of endless days in a maze of white halls with nothing better to do. He dreams of being alone. He dreams of a park, of arms around his waist, of burning lips on his skin and burning movement inside of him and oh god he's gonna be eaten but those nights are the ones where he wakes up with a shudder and come all over his own stomach. Grimmjow dreams, and he doesn't know what to do with all of these dreams-memories?-of another life, filling up inside of him.

He doesn't have anyone to go to with this. Shoga does not speak when Grimmjow tries to talk to him, and meditation… Meditation is its own problem.

Grimmjow has never been able to talk to his Zanpakuto. He's never been able to visualize that inner world that people talk about having. He doesn't even know its name. It's just always been there with him. It's not for lack of trying-when he follows the instructions, all he gets is nothing.

Because you're looking in the wrong place.

And then there's that. The little voice that gives him opinions and nothing else. He can't tell if it's his own or not, it doesn't sound like anything except his own thinking voice, except it's not his thoughts. It's… hard to explain.

He decides to try again one sunny day when there's nothing but boring paperwork to do, pointing his thoughts at himself like the sensei always told the class to do.

Nothing.

You're looking in the wrong place.

Grimmjow exhales hard before pointing his thoughts at his sword, as if to attack it.

White sand and black skies, a paw and claws slashing towards his face. Grimmjow recoils, surprised, opening his eyes. His Zanpakuto his sitting innocently against his desk. Grimmjow swallows, closes his eyes, and tries again.

White sand and black skies, and a panther sitting calmly, staring at him with blue eyes that match his own. It's like a panther but it's not, it's got white and black plates that cover and protect its body, and its teeth sort of stick out of its mouth over its own lips.

At last.

Grimmjow swallows.

Tell me your name, he demands.

Aw, can't you guess? You know it. You only forgot. We used to be one, and now we are separate. Learn me again, and I'll learn you. We could be kings together.

Grimmjow searches his mind. When it comes to him, the knowledge is a relief, and he's absolutely sure he's right.

Pantera, he murmurs in his mind. The sound of it is different, more right, than any of the names of other Zanpakuto that he's heard. Then again, Grimmjow has always felt more connected to the names for things that make everyone look sideways at him. The names Hollows gave things.

Yes, the voice says with relish, and the panther begins to circle him. Call me. What are my words?

The words to call it? Grimmjow has to search his memories again, and when he turns up nothing, he forces himself to wait. The knowledge comes to him again, sharply and clearly and it is again a relief.

Grind, he commands.

YES.

Grimmjow is ejected from the place of white sand and black sky abruptly, and is left staring at his Zan- at Pantera- leaning against his desk. He feels the grin spread over his face again, and there's a tingling in his limbs.

He feels like a part of him has returned that was missing, he feels like he's back.

That night, when he sleeps, he dreams. He knows them for what they are, now, as memories.

And Grimmjow remembers everything.