Chapter Ten: A clash of wills

After weeks of getting his ass kicked six ways to Sunday, Ichigo had had enough.

It was late in Ichigo's day and they were in the midst of another heated battle, both combatants sporting several cuts and bruises, Ichigo clearly looking as if he was coming out of it at the wrong end again.

But he was about to change all that.

He'd been using his mask, gradually extending the time he was able to keep it formed. But he'd been carefully holding back, deliberately allowing the mask to shatter prematurely. He could see the effect its was having on the Espada, frustratingly him and inciting him to push Ichigo harder, their encounters growing steadily more bloody and violent. That was just another painful inconvenience for Ichigo. Even though he'd been using his mask, he'd been leaving himself intentionally open and suffering greatly for it. It was necessary so that Grimmjow would still able to keep up easily without going into his powerful resurrection form.

Well, so far so good. His deception hadn't been uncovered, and now Ichigo had the element of surprise, and if he played his cards right, he could catch Grimmjow off guard, not give him the chance to enter his resurrection, and take him down.

The less mature part of Ichigo's mind found it pretty damn amusing that the great Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez didn't have the slightest clue what Ichigo was really capable of at this moment. And Ichigo was beginning to feel cocky because of his newly recovered strength, more daring, taking a perverse pleasure in antagonizing his opponent. He told himself he was doing it with purpose, and the aim was simple. Agitate him. Throw Grimmjow off his game. Make him make a mistake. But he couldn't deny that he was getting a kick out of it.

"You should look up Ikaku or Kenpachi. They love to fight and their as crazy as you," Ichigo offered, amber eyes blazing with disdain.

"It ain't them I have a beef with right now, Shinigami," the Espada growled.

Ichigo intercepted a blow from Grimmjow's sharp zanpakuto that was aimed at his head, only to feel the air knocked from his lungs as Grimmjow broadsided him with his shoulder and a well placed elbow. Ichigo flew back and came up hard against a solid piece of rubble, the remnants of some building or another, and slid down the wall until he landed on his ass in the sand. He was breathing hard as he pushed himself up. The mask was slowly wearing away, the remaining piece only covering his left eye and cheekbone.

"You keep calling me Shinigami like it's such a bad thing," he panted.

"So what?" The Sexta responded coldly, blue eyebrows drawing together in annoyance. "The Shinigami are a fucking embarrassment. Bunch of bleeding fucking hearts always protecting the weak when the weak don't deserve to be saved. I'm surprised you can even show your face in that form, Kurosaki."

Even from ten feet away, Ichigo noticed the way the skin on his nose near his eyes creased into ridges as he glowered, making him seem all the more catlike.

"You're part Shinigami too, Grimmjow," he spat. For a moment the Espada was silent. His eyes flickered and Ichigo caught a fleeting glimpse of something else lurking behind the aggression and unveiled contempt. They seemed troubled, confused.

The old Grimmjow saw everything in black and white. He knew he wanted to kill Ichigo and the reasons why were simple. "I'm a Hollow and your a Shinigami... what other reason do I need?" That's what he had told him before Ichigo had stabbed him through the chest and then, so gently, so fucking humanely, laid him down in the sands of Hueco Mundo. Fucking asshole. His lip curled up in disgust.

"Don't lump me in with your fucking kind. I have their fucking powers. That's all."

"Please," Ichigo scoffed. "You're just as much a Shinigami now as you are a Hollow. And you were human once too, remember? You're just like me Grimmjow." Ichigo died just a little inside as he made that connection. And yet he couldn't deny it. They were mirror images of one another, Ichigo with the best of intentions for everybody else, Grimmjow with the best of intentions for himself. He cringed. Alike. That was rich.

"Are you dense, Kurosaki? We are nothing the fuck alike." The Espada's head dropped forward and azure eyes fixed Ichigo with a fierce glare from beneath narrowed lids.

Despite himself, Ichigo had come to understand Grimmjow's emotional limits. He was maddeningly irrational when truly agitated, and he was getting close. Ichigo began to take slow and purposeful steps towards the Sexta, challenging him.

"Maybe you are right, Grimmjow. Maybe we're not that alike. I mean, I'm at least able to control my Hollow."

"Just keep on talking Shinigami," he warned as he moved in to meet him, Pantera's hilt casually spinning around in his hand, playing through his fingers, and the blade arcing down past his hips and up past his head repeatedly as it sliced through the air. "I'm gonna lose my shit."

Good, Ichigo thought.

The Sexta faked a low slash with his sword towards Ichigo's legs. It was a punk move, a decoy to force Ichigo to leave his upper body exposed, and as soon as Ichigo caught Pantera's edge with his own sword, Grimmjow reached across and punched him hard in the face. He struck him with every ounce of the considerable hate he felt for him in that moment, and was rewarded with a very satisfying crunch. Ichigo's cry of pain was muffled by Grimmjow's fist, and he fell several steps back, loosely clutching his nose with one hand.

Grimmjow's eyes raked over the injured teen, surveying the damage he'd received during their skirmish, and the anger that had threatened to boil over a moment ago came down just a notch or two, now that he'd messed up his pretty face. But his irritation returned full force when the orange haired Shinigami carelessly wiped away the blood that was oozing down over his lips and sneered. It stretched slowly into a wide angry grin, the slash of white teeth a sharp contrast against the red stained lips.

"My little sister hits harder."

Son of a... Grimmjow was becoming incensed. What the hell had gotten into Kurosaki? He was mouthy as shit today. It almost felt like old times. The young Shingami was acting like is old overconfident self, spitting snitty little barbs and provocative comebacks that easily stirred up the Espada's wrath. Except this time, Kurosaki didn't have the power to back it up.

Grimmjow erupted forward, shunpoing far enough into Ichigo's personal space that the teen could make out the individual rings of colour in the Sexta's eyes, and bodily hauled him up by the scruff of his shihakusho. He slammed him back into the wall of rock and hissed in warning as the last of the painted mask split into pieces and fell away, the pinned teen's eyes returning to normal, the sunlight catching them and turning them a warm honey brown that didn't go unnoticed by the Espada, even in the heat of his rising temper.

"You might as well just give up, Kurosaki. You're done and you know it."

"I will..." Ichigo forced the words out through clenched teeth, and Grimmjow grinned. "...NEVER submit to you."

Ichigo brought both legs up between them and kicked out as hard as could, throwing the Sexta back across the sand, creating enough distance between them to give himself time to manoeuvre.

The Espada's eyes narrowed dangerously as his grin fell away, turning to a snarl full of sharp teeth.

After sharing a space as tiny as Las Noches with an ego as large as Grimmjow's, Ichigo had learned that you quickly get to know a lot about a person, whether you want to or not, and Ichigo knew just what to say to hurt Grimmjow the most. His chest constricted, and his heart pounded as the harsh words left his mouth, his voice hard like the grinding of glass.

"You're nobody's king."

" ... "

The words hit his brain like a physical blow, and in an instant Grimmjow wanted nothing more than to wrap his jaws around Kurosaki's neck and tear out his jugular with his teeth.

Ichigo felt the warning spike as Grimmjow's power suddenly rolled off of him violently, thick and dark, and full of malicious intent. With wild eyes and an enraged bellow, the Sexta launched himself at the Shinigami.

Grimmjow had officially lost his temper. This was his opening. It was now or never.

Ichigo raked his hand sharply across his face, instantly reforming his mask, and sliced Zangetsu through the air.

"Getsuga Tenshou."

The hell? Grimmjow's eyes widened in shock and confusion, his dark pupils contracting into two pin points as the immense wave of black energy crashed into him at point blank range, the full force of it's sharp edge searing hot against his hierro, pushing Grimmjow along with it. He barrelled upwards, crashing through a row of towers, the first three breaking apart on impact. He slammed into the top of the fourth tower with an unholy crunch as arm and rib bones bent and snapped.

Normally, if the Sexta Espada struck an object, it gave. This one did not.

Grimmjow plummeted into the sand below and lay crumpled in a heap at it's base, the tower above undamaged, mocking him. The Sexta's head reeled as the explosion of stars swarmed over his vision, and his lungs burned wildly for air. He strained with one arm to push himself out of the sand, only to fall back down and land in an awkward sprawl on his back against the tower, cursing a string of obscenities before his world finally spun away.

Ichigo shunpoed down to where the Espada had fallen. Grimmjow was unconscious. This was the opportunity he'd been waiting for, and for once, Ichigo wasted no time. He had to end this nightmare now. God knew that Grimmjow had a history of popping back up unexpectedly. He raised his black sword over the prone man, tensed to thrust the blade down and drive it home... and an ugly reality slapped him in the face.

Motherfu... Ichigo's blood turned to ice in his veins, stopping him cold before he could bring his sword down and plunge it into the arrancar's exposed chest.

He had him. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Gift wrapped.

And he couldn't fucking kill him.

His breath came out harshly through his mask in an sibilant hiss. Well, of course he couldn't. And since when did he want to? That had never been the plan. Ichigo wasn't a murderer. He couldn't kill a man while he was down like this. Besides, if he killed him, Grimmjow wouldn't be in the best condition to open a fucking garganta now would he? Shit. But if he didn't kill him, the Espada would just keep coming after him and Grimmjow's perverse games would never end. Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

Ichigo reached up and released the mask. He waited for a long, anxious minute, hovering over the Espada, not sure at all about what he was going to do when Grimmjow came around, but he didn't have much time to think about it. The blue-haired man was already stirring.

Grimmjow groaned as he came to, a sad self-deprecating sound. His cheeks flushed in pain and embarrassment as the realization of what had happened bounced around his throbbing skull and slowly filtered through his brain. The Espada struggled to lift his head, weighted with lead and full of fog. He stilled as the point of Ichigo's blade came into sloppy focus and slipped beneath the base of his chin, lifting it slightly. Grimmjow's expression said nothing of fear as he looked up into the determined-to-be-threatening face of Kurosaki Ichigo.

"I hate to spoil your plans, Grimmjow, but it's over. You've lost."

Lost? 'I'll never go down to someone like you.' Over? The Espada's jaw tightened, and he thrust his chin up suddenly, causing the sword's tip to drag along the flesh of his exposed throat, drawing a fine red line down his neck, until it caught in his skin and nested inside the soft hollow beneath his Adam's apple.

"Knock yourself out, Kurosaki. You'll never... go home if you do...", he wheezed. It was a sure bet that at least one rib had punctured a lung.

Ichigo blinked, some of his scowl receding. Threats wouldn't work here. Grimmjow didn't scare. Ichigo's eyes widened slightly as the blue-haired arrancar persisted, forcing himself to speak around his shallow, ragged breaths.

"...and you ain't... getting out of here if you don't, either. So... you may as well... just fucking do it."

There was no mistaking his tone. Ichigo knew that Grimmjow's words were not intended as a taunt. The stupid shit had meant it. Ichigo gaped in astonishment for a split second before he caught himself and frowned.

"Whatever, Grimmjow. You going to sit there running your mouth or are you going to let me go?"

Ichigo held the blade firm, being careful not to move it, and trying to shrug off the Espada's troubling demand, while his mind raced in a mad search to find some sort of resolution to what was fast becoming an awkward situation for the teen. He didn't want a stalemate. He wanted a win.

Grimmjow growled in anger. Waiting to be killed was killing him. Kurosaki was purposely making him suffer this pain and humiliation for as long as he could because he was enjoying this, because he was, at the heart of it, just as much of an arrant bastard as Grimmjow.

"C'mon you motherfucker! You know you want to!" he barked, his voice cracking as he dissolved into a broken fit of coughing, causing blood to spill in a steady trickle from the shallow wound in his throat.

Kurosaki's fierce scowl returned, and for an instant his lip twitched along with the hand that was wrapped in a tight hold around the hilt of his sword.

"I don't need to kill you."

"You cocky fuck," Grimmjow croaked. "You get off one lucky shot... and you think your better than me? You couldn't be more fucking wrong! You'd still be nothing without me, Kurosaki!"

Now that had been a fucking challenge, and Ichigo's reiatsu jumped in response. A flick of the wrist was all it would take.

"Go screw yourself, Grimmjow," he snapped.

There wasn't anybody here to stop him.

"Blow me, Kurosaki," he hissed.

No one would ever judge him poorly for it.

In fact, everyone Ichigo knew, without a doubt, would want him to end the arrancar right now.

And still, he couldn't actually bring himself to do it. Ichigo stared dumbly down the length of his own sword at the bristling Espada, until insight suddenly struck him.

"You're not the only one who can open a Garganta, Grimmjow. If you're going to be such a stubborn goddamn prick about it, then I'll just ask another Hollow," he crowed. The corners of his mouth twisted up into a sneer, then just as quickly fell away. He had said the words as they came to mind, realizing too late that he shouldn't have said it at all. He'd finally found the answer and he'd just gone and squealed on himself.

"It's a good thing you're pretty," Grimmjow sneered. "You really are a stupid shit, aren't you?"

"Wha-? Oh, fuck off, Grimmjow."

"You'll never find... any Hollow's around here. And even if the sun... shone out your ass and you did... manage to find one, they'd never help a Shinigami... dog like you. Your sweet little ass... would just be food to them."

"Shut up."

"Get a grip on reality, Shinigami," Grimmjow panted. "In this place, I'm the closest thing to a friend that you've got."

"Screw you," Ichigo spat. Unbelievable. Ichigo was the one with the sword here but Grimmjow was the one twisting it. The Espada had an amazing ability to turn him inside out with only a few choice words.

Relief finally washed over Ichigo as he suddenly remembered another option, one that would be ideal... if it still existed.

"Then I'll find Nel. She can do it." Oh, Shit. He'd just done it again. Was he touched in the head? He could have punched himself.

Grimmjow shifted against the tower, then reached up, and with one finger flat on the blade, pushed the sword down and away from his neck. Ichigo let the blade fall, it being pointless as a threat, really. It had become obvious to both of them that he wasn't about to pull the proverbial trigger to end his feud with the arrancar once and for all.

The Espada stood shakily, leaning against the base of the tower for support, since Ichigo clearly wasn't offering to help. The kid obviously knew better than to add further insult to injury. Grimmjow put most of his weight on the one arm that wasn't lying limp and bent wrongly at his side. He winced at the sharp stabbing pain that sent sparks dancing across his vision, but he refused to go down again in front of Kurosaki. He glanced sideways at Ichigo, and raised a blue brow in confusion.

"Nel? The bebe? Hah. That brat's long gone."

"What? You... you didn't!" Ichigo's sword flashed upwards again, forcing the Sexta to either lean back or learn to breath through a real hole in his neck. Grimmjow's eyes widened before narrowing sharply into an affronted glare.

"What? Fuck off idiot. Like I would waste... my energy on that." Oh, he'd wanted to kill her. Kurosaki wasn't the only person who had puked on him lately. But the fact was, that what she had done, no matter how revolting it was, had saved him.

Ichigo tilted his head forward in a threat, not willing to back off this time, not where Nel was concerned, never where his friends were concerned, until Grimmjow finally pulled away from the sword and collapsed back, his back and one hand supported against the tower. He took several pained breaths before he continued.

"The noisy brat left... when that freak Shinigami scientist came around... bolted for the desert." He waved his good hand in a lazy circle, a gesture he immediately regretted as it put more pressure on his back and shuffled his ribs.

Ichigo's sword dropped fractionally, now half forgotten as he listened to what had become of his young friend, urging Grimmjow to continue with his own silence.

"Was a long time before she came back. She stayed for awhile, kept fucking... following me around." Grimmjow's eyes focused somewhere past Ichigo as he remembered the last person who'd kept him company, some of his anger dissipating. "Smart enough to keep her distance though."

She'd stayed just close enough to get him to yell at her to leave him alone, but annoyingly far enough to dodge a cero if he'd ever actually bothered to throw one her way like he'd kept threatening to. She had saved him, and he owed her. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez repaid his debts. He hated to owe anyone anything.

"Then one day she walked right up to me... and said something about... Peschedondo something... and an eternal game of tag." Grimmjow snorted, though it hurt. "Creepy kid." Grimmjow blinked as he came back to the present, his cool eyes meeting Ichigo's. "And I ain't seen her since."

Ichigo looked up at the blue sky. It was a small relief to know that Nel was doing alright. He'd been half afraid that she may have been caught in the Shinigami's clean up wave, or worse, Mayuri's collection. He sighed, and then noticed the tower above him. It was in perfect condition. Not a scratch. His brows knit together in confusion.

"What happened, Grimmjow? Why didn't the tower break?"

"Heh. Szayel Aporro, sick fucker, was using it to hold Hollows... for experiments. He had it built out of seke seke stone... so souls... can't pass through. It's unbreakable."

"Uh... oh. Well. You're lucky you have such a hard head, Grimmjow."

Grimmjow growled but let the comment pass. He was actually in quite a bit of pain, and pounding on Kurosaki wasn't an option at the moment.

Ichigo turned to leave. He was in no danger of attack until Grimmjow was back to full power. This would be his only chance to try out his new plan. Grimmjow had seen his power now, and he wouldn't hold back and fight without his resurrection next time.

Grimmjow watched Ichigo limp across the sands, heading no doubt back to bed, his adrenaline high clearly leaving his body aching and weak. The kid hadn't come out of their fight unscathed by any means. Kurosaki would be recovering for the next full day at least.

Grimmjow let himself slide back down onto the ground and closed his eyes. This was as good and as safe a place as any to take a nap. Even he wouldn't be able to tangle with a Hollow in the shape he was in right now. He needed to rest and then he needed to hunt. Aside from the bomb that had gone off in his head, he guessed that it was mostly just some broken bones and a tear in his lungs. He would heal fully in a day, maybe even less, his body being near full strength this time around. But a little extra spirit energy would go along way towards speeding up the process.

Blue eyes flew open as it only now dawned on him, concussed as he was. Kurosaki Ichigo had been holding back, pulling his punches. That sneaky little shit. That black Getsuga Tenshou had been the real deal. He knew, having been caught in the full force of it before.

"That fucking cheat!" he shrieked.

That perfect little hero was turning out to be a shady sonofabitch. Grimmjow was going to chew out his trachea and stomp his orange head ten feet into the ground... if he could just stand up. He felt his lids grow heavy as he slumped back against the tower, the brief surge of adrenaline leaving him utterly spent, but the image of Kurosaki's masked face still refused to let go of its grip on his consciousness. That attack had been a game changer.

That kind of power was what Grimmjow had been waiting for. This is what it had all been about. Kurosaki was at least a match for Grimmjow now without his resurrection, probably had been for some time too. Devious bastard. It seemed that maybe Grimmjow had taught him a thing or two. He sighed and closed his eyes again, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and unease wash through him.

It seemed that Kurosaki was finally ready to go all out.