Grimmjow left the scene in a hurry, leaving Ichigo to watch his half dressed silhouette hop from the window as soon as he caught his breath. On the floor, half naked and confused, the heatwave seemed the last of Ichigo's worries. What the hell was that? Did they really just...? Did Grimmjow have an answer for him? Judging by his reaction and hasty exit, he suspected Grimmjow had just as little a clue as he had.
He just didn't get it. They were enemies. Unwilling allies at best. They never liked each other, could barely be in the same room without fighting. Up until a point, they followed through with the same path. Though there was no real malice to it (it seemed more like a training exercise than a battle to the death), it still traced the pattern of their usual interaction.
Ichigo shrank in on himself, and busied himself with gathering his discarded t shirt and dressing with a blank mind. Out of intrigue, Ichigo pressed his senses to see it they could detect the hollow anywhere nearby. Upon reading nothing, he checked his extra faculties by locating Orihime and Uryu. He found them alright, as they only lived a few streets away in Uryu's apartment. Grimmjow must be gone, Ichigo reasoned, or he was concealing his spiritual pressure.
Ichigo had a sudden thought, and cringed on the bed with his head in his hands. Would the Soul Society be aware of Grimmjow's presence in the human world?
No, he thought, almost on impulse. They had enough to deal with right now.
...
Hueco Mundo had always been a barren wasteland. Almost lifeless, with every intelligent being hidden deep beneath the sand, or way over in Las Noches. Grimmjow had tolerated this place for so long, the concept of home mingled with the image of grey desserts, black sky and silence. Since the espada and Aizen's defeat, the ominous atmosphere of Hueco Mundo seemed almost oppressive, it's nothingness becoming a vaccuum. He never liked his conrades, didn't even consider them as such at the time. But, ever since the Quincey war and experiencing fighting side by side with those who were supposed to be his enemies, Grimmjow craved voices. He craved faces, even if it were just one a week, or month. As time went by, Ulquiorra's dispondent nature became more and more understandable.
Seeking out Ichigo that night was the first time in a long time he felt truly alive.
But what we did, he said, and he thought this over and over again each time he allowed his mind to approach the topic. It was uncomfortable for him to think about, and of course he knew why. He knew what sex was, and why it happened. He was a soul made up of so many fragments of souls, ages old and with thousands of years worth of memories. This knowledge served as an inate basis, had embittered him without him having any need to feel bitterness. But what we almost did, he thought again, cautiously, before letting out a low, petulant growl. Come on, he told himself. More urgent things to worry about.
Several weeks before he went to the human world, the Hell Gate opened. It was felt across all realms by any being with strong enough spiritual pressure, despite only physically opening in the Soul Society. The matter, they thought, was dealt with by the new Soul King, the former Captain Ukitake. The reapers had checked for any evidence of escapees, but nothing could be found.
Oddly enough, thought Grimmjow, they didn't think to check here very thoroughly.
Just at that moment, the ground trembled beneath Grimmjow's feet, and he fell to his knees from the force.
Can it read my mind?