Notes:
A bit of character persp. jumping in this one, it felt right. Ichigo is going to get wailed on for a bit.
Thanks to my beta reader Ink and Blade!
Ganbarimasu!
12 Hours
-xxx-
Kurosaki Ichigo
Ichigo woke with a jolt, his environment unfamiliar enough to set off warning bells in his head. He squeezed his eyes shut against a bright light, turning his head to the side and away. His next realization was that he couldn't raise his arms to shield his eyes. He started to panic, pulling on restraints that held his ankles, wrist, and chest in place, noting that he was decidedly shirtless...again.
"Do try to calm down," an impatient voice drawled from his right.
Ichigo looked, eyes widening when they landed on an arrancar he'd never seen before. A slender man with pink hair and glasses––no, an arrancar mask––stood close enough to touch, casually taking notes on a touchscreen device as if he didn't have someone strapped to a table.
"Who the hell are you?" Ichigo demanded.
The arrancar paused, this question apparently good enough to gain his attention. He smiled, gesturing to himself with a haughty sort of pride. "Szayelaporro Granz, Octava espada."
Octava...What was that, eight? Weaker than Grimmjow, but that didn't mean much when he'd lost to the arrancar twice. "Szayelaporro," Ichigo stressed. "Let me go."
The espada rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to his tablet. "That's a wonderful thank you. Show some more gratitude and I'll consider it."
Gin's voice sounded from behind him, out of sight. "Let him go, Szayel."
The pink-haired arrancar frowned, shooting a murderous glare to Gin. That look wasn't even directed at him and it gave Ichigo chills.
Szayel reached forward, touching something on the side of the table Ichigo was strapped to, and the straps loosened.
Ichigo didn't waste time clambering out of them, deliberately climbing off on the opposite side of the table. He looked for his sword and didn't see it, turning a tight circle in panic.
Szayel looked disgusted either by mere proximity to his existence or his reaction. Gin warned, "Kid."
Ichigo looked up in time to see Gin heft his sword over to him. He caught it with much more ease than it appeared Gin needed to toss it. His panic immediately subsided, his breathing leveling into something much more normal. He asked, "Now can I get a shirt?"
Szayel must have anticipated that question, tossing him a white shirt that was a carbon copy of what the Espada himself wore. Ichigo wasn't happy about being forced to comply with their fashion sense, but he also wasn't fond of running around a fortress of arrancar without so much as a shirt.
Ichigo watched Szayel while he dressed, wary of that hungry look in the arrancar's eyes and eagerly replaced Zangetsu on his back. The weight was a comfort, like a goddamn security blanket, and now that he had it, he felt much less insecure about whatever the hell this was.
Szayel looked to Gin and asked, flatly, "Is that all, Ichimaru-sama?" It looked like it physically hurt the arrancar to add the honorifics to his name.
Gin pretended not to notice. "Thanks, Szayel. As ya were."
Szayel's glare shifted to Ichigo and he suddenly smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile, it was one that held the remnants of something violent and mad, something he recalled seeing on Kurotsuchi. "I hope I see you again soon, mestizo."
Ichigo didn't know what that meant, but he assumed it was an insult. Gin started to leave, and instead of waiting around wherever the hell this was to ask about whatever the hell had just happened, Ichigo followed. The hallways were long, but it was only a few moments before they were...outside? His waraji scraped on a loose layer of white sand, casting a look up at a bright, pale blue sky. "Where are we?"
Gin answered, "Las Noches." The man looked back and explained, "Hueco Mundo is a world of eternal night. Aizen-sama didn't like it, so Las Noches is beneath a dome with a Kido sky."
Ichigo had flashbacks to Urahara's underground training field. He'd always wondered how he'd done it, but this was on a massive scale, it went on for miles. It was daunting, to stand directly underneath proof of his inferiority to the shinigami. Maybe that was the point.
Gin was watching him eye the dome, deciding to continue his explanation. "Szayel healed you. Came damn near close to bleeding out."
Ichigo felt the memories come flooding back, looking over the alien landscape with a grumble, "Whose fault is that?"
Gin chuckled, and Ichigo looked at him, noticing the purple over Gin's throat. He must have done that...he didn't remember.
"Ya ain't here by choice, King."
His hollow was right, but he didn't like to think about it. Walking back to the fortress, Ichigo noticed a smudge of blue in the shadow of the wall. In the glare of the sun, it was almost impossible to see within the shadow of Las Noches.
Once he stepped into the shadow of his prison, Ichigo's eyes adjusted and he made out Grimmjow leaning near a door, watching him with narrowed, thoughtful eyes. The expression looked alien on the arrancar's face, especially since he'd only really seen him in battle.
Once he was close enough, Grimmjow said, "Looks like you're alive, shinigami."
For once, that title felt like it didn't fit. Ichigo frowned, clenching his hands into fists instead of indulging his desire to draw his sword. He thought the feeling might be mutual since he saw a ripple of tension in Grimmjow's shoulders, the other tightening his jaw.
Gin moved past them and paused shoulder to shoulder with Grimmjow. "12 hours, Grimmjow, don't forget."
The shinigami left them standing outside of Las Noches, and for a long moment, nothing was said. Ichigo questioned. "12 hours?"
Grimmjow puffed a laugh. "Yeah, Kurosaki, 12 hours, and then we can fight."
Now it made sense. 12 hours was more than enough time to recover the reiatsu he'd lost. 12 hours was a long time to wait.
-xxx-
Tatsuki
Ichigo wasn't at school.
Tatsuki thought it was the usual, but there was a distinct shift in his friends. All of them were quiet, somber. Walking across the school grounds, she passed the soccer field, and Karin wasn't playing. She crouched on the sidelines, tearing up handfuls of grass just to watch the wind blowing then away. It didn't take a genius to know something was wrong, and it settled in her gut like poison.
She went to his house, but standing there on his porch, she lost the nerve. She and Ichigo hadn't been friends since they were children, his father probably didn't even know her. She gave him a lot of shit, she watched him from afar, but he'd never escaped her notice.
Tatsuki turned to Inoue instead. It was sudden, but the two had seemed closer, and when Ichigo disappeared, Inoue shut down. Her smile was fake, she didn't pay attention in class; she knew something.
Ichigo had been dressed in all black, a sword in hand, fighting a monster and he'd been losing.
Now he was gone.
Standing there in front of Inoue's house, it was dark, and she wondered if she was even there. Tatsuki wasn't sure how long she stood there in the dark before the door was flung open. She found herself nearly nose to nose with Inoue, both of their eyes widening in shock.
For a split second, Inoue's unmasked feelings were raw on her face; fear, uncertainty, guilt, and then they were gone, buried under a wide smile. "Tatsuki! I'm sorry, I was just about-"
"Inoue. Where is he?"
Inoue's expression crumpled, and some of that fear and guilt shone through. "I-I can't…"
"Inoue, I know, I know what he is." And she still wasn't sure she wanted to know. Her tone slipped, quiet. "Please, tell me."
Inoue struggled to answer, torn between the truth and a lie, but either something she saw, or something she felt had her leaning towards the truth. "Okay...you should come with me."
-xxx-
Tatsuki wasn't expecting to find herself in a room with Ichigo. She stared at him, and something was off, wrong. That haunted look in his eyes was gone, he looked more nervous, and at the same time, less closed off...this wasn't Ichigo. "Who are you?"
Ichigo...no, the person masquerading as Ichigo opened his mouth, but Rukia answered for him. "This is Kon. You've met." Rukia looked serious, dressed in a black shihakusho, just like Ichigo had been.
Tatsuki looked back at 'Ichigo'. He felt off; that aura of his was too different to be him, along with those eyes. They weren't intense like Ichigo's, they were soft, sad. All those times Ichigo was acting strange made more sense, and at the same time she felt like she was trapped in a fever dream.
Tatsuki looked from 'Ichigo' to Rukia. "I'm not sure I fully understand."
Inoue explained, "The Ichigo in black that you saw, that was his soul. Right now, another soul is in his body; Kon."
Kon gave her a half hearted smile. "Hi." Distress pulled at Ichigo's face, and Kon looked away in guilt. "They knew it wasn't him. I'm sorry, I couldn't do it, I couldn't keep pretending."
Rukia sighed, voice tight. "You don't need to keep apologizing, you were only supposed to be a temporary solution. If they know, there's no reason you had to stay."
Tatsuki's eyes widened. "So you kidnap his body?"
Kon paled, shifting uncomfortably, and Urahara cut in. "Not exactly. It's better his body is inhabited. Ichigo can leave it temporarily, but longer than a day and, well, I don't recommend it."
Tatsuki didn't want to ask why, and no one present was going to dispute it, so she had to assume in this new reality, that made perfect sense. The conversation fell off while they waited, no one feeling particularly interested in small talk.
Chad and Ishida showed up together, with the latter seemingly confused on Tatsuki's presence, but he didn't question it so much as glance to her in curiosity.
They all sat in this Urahara person's sitting room, and for a long few minutes, no one had said anything.
Inoue spoke first, her tone quiet, but strong. "We're going to go get him, right?"
Urahara's eyes slipped to Rukia, and the girl tightened her hands into fists on her knees. "I know what Kon said, but we have no proof he didn't go on his own."
Tatsuki looked between them all and when no explanation was given, she asked, "Where did he go?"
Rukia said, "Ichigo is with Aizen, not of his own will."
"Then what's the problem," Tatsuki asked. "You're going to go get him back, right?"
Urahara said, "Aizen is likely one of the only people strong enough to oppose Soul Society. He has an entire army whose strength remains unknown, and his own power is enough to challenge the Gotei 13 alone. Charging in to save Kurosaki-san would be unwise."
"So you're doing nothing?" Tatsuki asked, appalled.
Rukia looked to her, empathy in her eyes. "Soul Society is considering Ichigo to be guilty of treason. If we manage to get him back, he'll still stand trial."
"That's bullshit," Tatsuki said, "He's barely even one of you. He's got school, family."
Something that looked like guilt flashed in Rukia's eyes. "I know, I'm very aware, but that doesn't change reality."
Ishida's voice was tight. "I agree with Tatsuki-san. Soul Society has no power over him."
Urahara finally spoke. "I'm afraid Soul Society won't see it that way. They allowed Ichigo to return with strict conditions even Kurosaki-san was unaware of."
Ishida snapped, "They were spying on him."
Urahara's lips twitched into a frown and he confirmed. "Yes. Kurosaki-san is very strong, yet I don't believe they expected Aizen to show interest in him, especially after the man nearly bisected him. In hindsight, I should have expected it as well."
Inoue shifted, uneasy, her eyes settling on Rukia's back, "Kuchiki-san...Did you know?"
The guilt on Rukia's face darkened her eyes, and after a long moment, she answered, 'Yes."
Inoue smiled, and it twisted Tatsuki's heart. "I see."
Urahara said, "The good news is, if Aizen took him, he's alive, and he's likely to remain that way for the foreseeable future."
Tatsuki said, "And when he doesn't do what Aizen wants?"
Urahara let out a soft sigh and said, "He will."
Rukia's eyes sharpened on the shopkeeper. "What makes you so certain?"
Urahara looked around the group and said, "Rukia may be aware, but the rest of you may not be. Kurosaki-san has a hollow."
Ishida's brows furrowed. "Kurosaki is a shinigami, I don't understand."
Urahara shifted and stood, returning with a laptop. He sat again, and wordlessly searched for something, the screen brightening his face. He turned it around to face them and tapped the spacebar.
Ichigo stood with a white mask on his face, red stripes cascading down the left side of it. It was hard to see details with the distortion and the size, but it was undoubtedly Ichigo. Urahara paused the video only seconds later, just to prove to them it was real, she supposed. The others seemed to understand the gravity of this more than she did,
Urahara said, "Yoruichi-san tells me that this wasn't a hindrance for the majority of your time in Seireitei, but it seems his battle with Kuchiki-san changed things. I'm sure you've noticed Kurosaki-san's erratic behavior." From the guilty looks exchanged, Tatsuki could only assume everyone saw it, but no one had known what to say. "I'm left to assume his hollow was fighting to become the dominant personality."
Tatsuki felt her blood chill, recalling the haunted looks in Ichigo's eyes,the distraction, the fear.
Urahara continued, "If Aizen has offered him a solution, Kurosaki-san isn't the type to refuse."
"That doesn't mean he's changed sides," Tatsuki said. "What's all this got to do with Ichigo anyway? This isn't his fight."
"You're right, Tatsuki-san," Urahara said. "Kurosaki-san doesn't have a dog in this fight."
Rukia's eyes narrowed. "You think Aizen plans to change that?"
Tatsuki looked back to the laptop, at the pixelated red stripes on a bone white mask. Urahara closed the laptop and said, "It would be foolish not to assume as much. Kurosaki-san is a wildcard, his potential is vast."
Ishida pushed up his glasses and leaned forward. "I agree that Kurosaki is strong, but he's already acquired bankai, there's nowhere left to go."
Urahara blinked at him then absently tugged the brim of his hat. "Ahh, Quincy, I'm afraid that's just not true."
-xxx-
Grimmjow
The stupid shinigami wouldn't eat. Grimmjow didn't think he should give a damn, but if the fucker wouldn't eat, then he wouldn't recover and they wouldn't fight. Simple.
Grimmjow shoved a tray of food over the ground at him with his foot. It slid to a stop a foot from Kurosaki's knee, a third of it knocked onto the ground, but he didn't care, it was the principle of the thing.
Kurosaki glared at him, and Grimmjow glared right back, barking an order. "Eat."
The shinigami was sitting cross legged, his sword on the ground within arms reach, purposefully foregoing the couch situated against the far wall. Kurosaki looked at the food, then away. "No."
Grimmjow wasn't used to being told 'no', it was enraging. His hand twitched towards Pantera, but he stopped himself. He still had eight hours to go, eight more hours of this shit.
If his fraccion weren't six feet under, they could do this shit instead, but he was on his own again, and that was fine.
Grimmjow said, "It's been over a day since your scrawny ass got dumped here, don't fucking lie to me. Reiatsu like that, you should be starving."
Once the kid woke up, it was like night and day. This damp rag from the day before was hovering at captain level reiatsu and he wasn't even all the way recovered yet. The kid just let it ooze out of him like Starrk, either uncaring or unaware he was doing it, but Grimmjow assumed the latter. The kid was strong for a kid, but he lacked control. Judging from Aizen and Tousen and Gin, this kid should have a sealed state for his Zanpakuto, but Grimmjow hadn't ever seen it.
Kurosaki narrowed his eyes at him and growled, "Didn't say I wasn't hungry, I said no."
Grimmjow took that personally, snarling, "Think I'd fuckin poison you? What kind of-"
"I said no! Stop putting words in my mouth." Kurosaki watched him warily, like he might get kicked in the head, which was a perfectly good concern to have. He said, "I'm anxious. That's all."
Anxious? Grimmjow looked taken aback, staring at him a long moment. "You're scared?" He laughed, his tone dripping in derision. "Ya ain't gonna get any sympathy from me, shinigami."
Kurosaki's eyes narrowed when he called him a shinigami, which left Grimmjow feeling his insult was justified. The shinigami snapped, "I said I was anxious. Believe it or not, but there's other shit I'd rather be doing than playing house guest in Las Noches."
"Pff you're not a guest," Grimmjow corrected, "You're a prisoner."
Kurisaki groaned, "God, haven't you ever heard of a euphemism?"
"Euthanizing? Yeah I've heard of it."
Kurosaki gave him a withering look and finally shifted to stand, realizing he wasn't going to go away. He grabbed his sword, the edge scraping along the ground with a metallic twang as he straightened. "What do you care?"
Grimmjow's scowl deepened like that was the dumbest shit he'd ever heard. "How the hell am I supposed to fight you if you pass the fuck out?"
"I'm not some delicate flower," Kurosaki argued. "I'll be fine."
"Really? Cause you passed the fuck out last time."
Outrage brightened Kurosaki's eyes and he snapped, "I was going through some shit. Next time will be different you sonic looking asshole."
Grimmjow narrowed his eyes at the insult, not having a clue what half of it meant, so he chose to ignore it. "It better be, shinigami, or next time you'll end up dead." There was no fear reflection in Kurosaki's eyes...no, that irritating determination was back, like he wasn't facing a threat at all.
Grimmjow grabbed him by the front of his kosode, jerking him in close. "Ya hear me, Kurosaki?"
The shinigami didn't make a move to use his sword or push him away at all, he only glared. "I hear you."
Grimmjow could smell the fear on him, but Kurosaki's voice was steady, confident, and he had no reason to be. "How long?"
"What?"
Kurosaki didn't even blink, clarifying, "How many more hours?
Grimmjow was surprised by the question, scowl deepening. "About eight."
"So stow it."
Grimmjow ground his teeth, those fucking honey brown eyes judging him, waiting for something. He gave the shinigami a rough shove, but Kurosaki caught himself with more grace than he'd hoped for. He just kept staring at him. "Eat, shinigami. I ain't done with you."
Turning his back, Grimmjow left, feeling Kurosaki's eyes burning into his back until he was out of sight.
-xxx-
Kurosaki Ichigo
"The arrancar is right."
'If I eat now I'm just going to throw up.'
Silence, and his hollow repeated. "The arrancar is right. You burned through a lotta energy, King."
'So what?"
His hollow drawled sarcastically. "Wasn't aware you could afford to lose your edge."
Ichigo clenched his jaw in annoyance, because the hollow was right. He couldn't afford to be anything short of his best, not when failure meant death. Would Aizen go through all of this to let him die? He didn't know, but assuming he wouldn't was stupid and naive.
He eyed the food with a frown. It wasn't much, he didn't even know what it was, but all he had to do was keep it down.
Dragging it over with a scowl, Ichigo grimaced when he inadvertently smeared the remnants of what looked like rice over the ground. Appetizing.
"It don't have to be appetizing, do you want to live, or not, King?"
Again with that title and that condescending voice. Ichigo loathed that he was right. Grimmjow was right, Aizen was right...and he was just the dumbass getting jerked around.
He was scared, but no one was to save his scrawny ass, and after watching Gin destroy his badge in a wave of blue reiatsu, he knew that was true. Maybe Rukia gave a damn, but she wasn't acting on her own, and he hoped to whatever fucking Gods there were that his stupid friends didn't try to come here. He was trapped in a world with arrancar and hollow and they all loathed his very existence. He glowered at the mess of cold sustenance on the ground and felt a twang in his heart. He missed his sisters.
God, what would they think? Kon couldn't pretend to be him for too long, they were too different. Would they think that their brother ran away, that his dumb ass finally ended up dead in some ditch? They deserved better, he resolved to make it through this shit so at the very least his sisters wouldn't have to mourn their brother.
No he'd get the fuck out of here and they could get mad, they could call him a worthless fucking waste of space but they wouldn't be sad. He never wanted them to be sad like that again. Unrealistic, but he could control his own life, he could do that.
Picking up the plate and trying not to gag, Ichigo finally ate. As far as food went it was bland and inoffensive, otherwise he wasn't sure if he would have made it past picking up a utensil.
One step at a time. Eat, rest, fight. Ichigo had a sinking feeling this was going to become routine.
-xxx-
Grimmjow
Keeping time in Hueco Mundo was an uphill battle, but Grimmjow had some help from the pink-haired fucker on that. It was more or less just to track the passage of time, given that Hueco Mundo wasn't perfectly in sync with the rest of the worlds. He was back for that shinigami bastard minutes ahead of the end of their time-out. He knew if he crossed that line, Aizen wouldn't let it slide, so he counted those minutes with unrestrained eagerness.
He didn't expect to come back to find the kid staring into the blade of his sword like it held the meaning of life. He had it draped over crossed legs and the size of it made it look more like a sharp table. He had one hand on the hilt, and the other on the blade, scowling down at it with an intensity Grimmjow hadn't seen since their fight.
"Stare at it all damn day, it won't improve your chances, shinigami."
The kid knew he was there, he'd seen it in the tightening of his shoulders, but he didn't react until Grimmjow spoke. Kurosaki's eyes flicked up to meet his own. Grimmjow saw bloodlust and anger and violence in those eyes, along with a confidence he had no business having. Grimmjow felt his face split with a cackle. "That's a nice look, shinigami."
"How long?" Kurosaki asked.
Grimmjow held up the time keeper, nothing but a small disc with a number display. "6 Minutes."
Kurosaki finally blinked and stood, moving with targeted, deliberate motions that made it clear the other was treating him like this fight had already started. He was tense and ready and lacking the squishy nature Grimmjow thought might still be lingering. And he ate something, wouldn't ya know?
Grimmjow turned his back without fear, the kid wouldn't hit him from behind, he knew that as resoundly as Grimmjow knew he couldn't kill him that way either. It was a fucking waste.
Leading him to a huge room in Las Noches, the kid followed without a word, but he could still feel his eyes on his back. Grimmjow turned to face him and smirked. "43 seconds."
The kid shifted his stance, holding his sword out before him. Power coiled around him and surged. "Bankai!"
It was different than before, this power was darker, more oppressive. It was the stillness before a storm, the crackle of their power in the air raising Grimmjow's hackles in anticipation.
Both of them were counting now, and Grimmjow knew they were being watched.
2
1
To Grimmjow's surprise, Kurosaki moved first. He raised his hand in a claw before his face, his power climbing, and he raked it down, the flood of his reiatsu billowing in a heavy riptide of black and red energy.
Kurosaki's reiatsu split to reveal that hollow mask. White and red, thick stripes painting the left side of his face in claw-like streaks. Those yellow eyes blazed against the darkness of his sclera with a want for violence that made his heart race.
The shinigami disappeared, his speed blinding when he was at his peak. Grimmjow drew Pantera, blocking one of the most telegraphed attacks he'd ever seen. Why the fuck would he do that?
Kurosaki pressured him down, and spoke. "Getsuga tensho." The power that steamrolled into him was ripping and savage, his hierro blocking enough of it that he could save his reiatsu for what he knew was coming. The weight of Kurosaki's sword disappeared, and Grimmjow sensed the shinigami behind him.
Whirling, Grimmjow raised his sword to guard, Kurosaki's sword hacking into the edge of Pantera. Kurosaki snarled, "You're faster than this."
The shinigami was hitting harder, faster, and it wasn't only because he was alert and ready, he felt astronomically different from the person he'd fought in Karakura. The shinigami was holding back, that fucking asshole. Blood poured down his face, hot and sticky, he could taste it on his lips, and yet the shinigami was untouched.
Kurosaki hammered at him with a speed and savagery the reminded him of an Espada, not a shinigami. His sword flashed against the dark of the room, silent precursors to brutality. The dark of his sword struck Panter's edge in a crossguard over his chest, the ring of steel echoing in the gloom. Kurosaki's eyes burned from the other side of their sword, narrowed in a steadfast determination that made Grimmjow want to claw them out.
Another getsuga hit him point black from the edge of Kurosaki's sword, and it was all he could do to guard himself. Grimmjow jumped back, blackened reiatsu churning among the pale blue of his own power as it was separated and and snuffed out. Kurosaki blurred out of sight, and another was aimed for his back. Grimmjow raised Pantera to guard, and took the hit, having just about enough of getting shit on. Kurosaki wasn't fucking around.
Charging a cero before his clenched fist, Kurosaki ran straight for him, crazy asshole. Red power coalesced and grew when he fed it his reiatsu and Grimmjow fired it directly at him. To his shock, the shinigami didn't take the hit or run, he cut straight through it. His cero spiraled off into two parts to destroy yet more of Las Noches, the sound of cracking stone thundering in the confines of la Noches.
Then Kurosaki was inches away, his sword angled for his throat. Grimmjow raised Pantera in haste, Kurosaki's sword chipping and grinding away at Pantera's edge. The strength of it sent Grimmjow sliding back on his heels, eyes widening in surprise at the force behind the blow. Kurosaki launched into a flurry of attacks, each hitting harder than the last.
The shinigami was letting his control slip, he was holding back less and less. At this rate, he wasn't going to be able to hold off on resurreccion.
Grimmjow's lips curled into a snarl, dodging a downward slash to step in close. He swung Pantera through nothing but thin air, the shinigami suddenly beside him, gathering another getsuga. Shit.
Kurosaki swung, and his mask splintered and shattered, his power caving in on itself. It shocked them both enough for Kurosaki to freeze up midswing.
Not about to let an opportunity go to waste, Grimmjow took advantage, lunging forward and kicking him solidly in the gut. The air got knocked out of his lungs, he heard the whoosh of air from his lungs when he hit him. He kicked him hard enough to send him flying back into a wall, the stone cratering under the force.
Kurosaki slid to the ground, catching himself on unsteady feet and staggering with a desperate gasp for air. Grimmjow saw fear in his eyes, but he never let go of his sword. That was good.
Reaching a clawed hand up over his face, Kurosaki tried to summon his mask again, but his reiatsu was unstable, and it shattered before it could form. The irritation and concern was plain on his face, even from a hundred yards away.
Grimmjow taunted, "What's the matter, shinigami?"
Kurosaki shifted into a stance, still struggling for breath, but raised his sword defensively. Grimmjow curled forward, raising his own sword, "What happened to all that," and burst into sonido, "fight?!"
Kurosaki blocked, Pantera's battered edge now more than enough to hammer him back. Kurosaki slid back until his back struck the wall, arms folding under the strain. Grimmjow laughed, hitting him with a wave of reiatsu. Kurosaki grimaced, power slicing into his skin in trenches, almost unprotected compared to before. "Is that all you've got?" Grimmjow roared.
Kurosaki started to push back, bracing himself, and Grimmjow didn't allow him the time to test his strength. Lurching forward, Grimmjow slammed his forehead against Kurosaki's in a headbutt that stunned the shinigami enough for his arms to go slack.
Grimmjow drew his arm back and hit Kurosaki in the gut with a bala, knocking him through the wall, and the one behind it in a cascade of rubble. Grimmjow called out at the settling dust and shifting rock. "I know you're not dead!"
A few seconds passed, and Kurosaki pulled himself from the debris, blood pouring down his face to soak into the hem of his shirt, red blooming into white. He coughed, vomiting up blood and bile, staining ivory stone with the evidence of his failure. He staggered, but stood, raising his sword to continue, as if he wasn't about to lose. The shinigami swayed like a drunk, squinting through what had to be a rattled brain and a spasming diaphragm. The kid was tough, to stand after a direct hit like that.
Grimmjow started to laugh, the sound echoing back to him, distorted. He stalked through the gaping hole in the wall he'd made with Kurosaki's body and took his damn time closing in on him. Let him sweat. Kurosaki looked like he was on his last legs. He could keep fighting, but a hit to the gut and the head and he would be hard pressed to stay conscious.
Grimmjow gathered reiatsu in his sword, his grip tightening, and a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him. He froze in shock. Ulquiorra.
Casting a glance back at the Espada, Ulquiorra read the confusion in his eyes as he explained, "Aizen wishes to speak with the boy."
"Now?" Grimmjow protested.
Ulquiorra's expression didn't change, but Grimmjow could swear he saw the condescension in his eyes. "Aizen cannot speak to someone who is dead."
His grip tightened, uncomfortable, and Grimmjow grit his teeth throwing his sword into his sheath. "Whatever, take him."
Kurosaki hadn't moved, looking between the two, unsure if he should continue to fight.
"Sword down, shinigami," Ulquiorra said. "You're finished here."
Frustration burned in the shinigami's eyes, frustration that oddly mirrored Grimmjow's own. He blinked, blood stinging his eyes, and in a surge of real anger, dropped out of bankai.
So close to a bloody death and he still wanted to fight...Kurosaki Ichigo was interesting.
Prey stolen from him, Grimmjow spat a mouthful of blood on the ground and shoved his hand in his pocket, turning his back on them both. It was real goddamn disappointing, and yet, the thrill still sang in his blood and dulled the pain of his wounds. Kurosaki had gotten better. Much better, and it had only been a few hours. If he kept that up, he might actually be worthy of killing.
-xxx-
Kurosaki Ichigo
Grimmjow turned his back and Ichigo felt a flash of rage. Despite Ulquiorra's presence, he wasn't worth Grimmjow's time, he wasn't worth the effort. He's been a mouse in the claws of a cat, getting battered to death while it played and he fought for his life. Pathetic.
He could do better than this, and his hollow was suspiciously silent
Ulquiorra started to walk, and Ichigo sheathed his sword and hesitantly followed, keeping a good amount of distance between him and his captor. The arrancar made him uneasy. It wasn't his silence, it was the cloak of nihilism over his words and his entire being. He was true chaotic neutral, it made him unpredictable.
Focusing on one foot after the other, Ichigo struggled to keep pace, wondering if the plan was to just bleed him to death on the stroll there. He swiped his sleeve over his face, smearing blood over his chin and cheek. His head kept bleeding––no surprise––dripping in a steady stream onto his shirt, but it was slowing, and he could keep walking, so no mercy was given.
With all the head injuries he'd sustained over the past few months, he had to wonder if he didn't have some kind of brain damage. He might, with how badly he wanted to continue his fight. He shouldn't kid himself, Ulquiorra showing up had probably saved his life, and he was under no delusion that so called coincidence had been anything but intentional.
His mask shattered, and he had lost.
'Hollow?'
No answer.
Ichigo let it be, trailing Ulquiorra down the corridors of Las Noches until they reached a room. The door was huge, as far as doors went. Maybe if it looked more like a door and not a simple rectangle it might have looked comical, but this just looked intimidating, and he thought that was the point.
Ulquiorra merely gestured at the door and left, leaving Ichigo to scowl at it and wonder what he should do. He felt an odd combination of anxiety, adrenaline, and exhaustion.
'Go in' seemed like the obvious course of action, but did he want to comply? He was still debating what to do when the door cracked open, leaving him face to face with Gin.
The fox smiled at him and teased, "Cold feet, kid? Don't keep 'im waitin'."
The implication he was scared annoyed him because it wasn't far off the mark. Ichigo brushed past him into the room, finding it no different from the rest of what he'd seen so far. Sprawling, little to nothing in the way of furniture or decoration, with massive ceilings and no apparent need for support columns. The room had a single chair, opening up into the backdrop of a dark night sky; It was brutalist and alien and cold and Ichigo hated it.
Gin shut the door after him, leaving Ichigo to stare at Aizen's back from across the room. It was uncomfortably intimidating to stand alone in a room with him.
Aizen turned, disturbing cheer present in a smile on his face. He walked up behind the throne, resting a hand on the back of it. "Sit, Ichigo. You look like you're struggling."
Clenching his teeth, Ichigo answered, "I'll pass."
Smile widening, Aizen's lifted a brow and chided. "Ichigo…" He tapped a finger on the stone back. "I insist."
Ichigo stared at him a long moment, then walked up to the throne, frowning at it like it owed him money. Aizen waited patiently, pretending to be completely oblivious to the fact he was damn near bleeding out. Ichigo paused just arms reach from Aizen, right eye narrowed through the sting of blood. He felt like this was a trap of some sort, but he couldn't think of what it could be. Chairs weren't sinister...but Aizen was.
Aizen merely waited, so self assured that Ichigo would do as he ordered. Ichigo took Zangetsu from his back, leaning it up against the arm of the throne. Trailing bloody fingers along the arm of the chair, Ichigo turned and sat heavily with a grimace, the motion agony. Grimmjow must have actually cracked a rib with that kick, because breathing was heavy and that simple action had him seizing up in pain.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Ichigo glanced up at Aizen, unsure what the fucking game here was. The ex captain sat on the arm of the chair, uncomfortably close. Ichigo wasn't sure if he was sweating from the pain or from fear, but the last thing he wanted was to have the man out of sight.
Aizen asked, "Was that difficult for you because you fear me? Is it because you know this throne is mine? Is it because you know you don't deserve it? Because you don't want it? Or perhaps all of these things?"
Ichigo paled. He hadn't even considered why, only that he hadn't wanted to. Sitting here at the back of a massive room, he felt he didn't belong. He could see the blood he'd trailed to the throne, the red smudges his fingers left on the arm of the chair. It was like bleeding on a strangers carpet; it was going to be a bitch to get off.
Eyes flicking towards Aizen when he moved. The shinigami reached for Zangetsu, resting his hand on the curve of the blade. It thrummed beneath his hand, fury ringing in the steel and in his heart.
Aizen spoke conversationally. "You have too much fear of me."
Ichigo swallowed and asked, "Isn't it justified? You almost cut me in half the first time we met."
Aizen smiled. "Do you really think I couldn't have if I tried? You are a resilient young man." Ichigo could only interpret that to mean 'no hard feelings'. He added, "I won't harm you without reason."
If Aizen wanted him dead, Ichigo knew he would be, it didn't feel like a lie. Ichigo said,"Maybe not, but you'll have Gin do it, or your arrancar do it."
Aizeb brushed him off. "Do you not value strength? Do you wish to be weak, Ichigo."
Ichigo looked up at Aizen, and the look in his eyes was sharp, daring him to lie.
Breath hitching through a spike of pain, Ichigo looked away. "No." He wanted to win, he wanted the power to protect the people he gave a damn about.
"Then I should have your gratitude." Aizen took his hand away from Zangetsu and the steel stopped screaming its resistance.
Gratitude. A flicker of anger caught in Ichigo's throat, his hand clenching into a fist. "I'm supposed to be grateful you threatened my family and kidnapped me? You can't be serious."
"Things aren't so black and white, Ichigo. Were you really so ready to trust the people that would have executed Rukia?"
Ichigo said, "You weren't tripping over yourself to save her."
"My, what a short memory. Did you forget just who it was that implanted the hogyoku in your friend's soul?"
Kisuke. Lifting a hand to his ribs, Ichigo braced himself to look up at Aizen, and the man's smile turned a touch condescending. "Perhaps if I also apologized, my actions would be forgiven?"
The man kept equating him to a child, and wasn't he, compared to these people?
Aizen kept talking. "I've done you favors, Ichigo-"
"I didn't ask you to," Ichigo snapped, "I don't owe you anything."
"Boy, allow me to finish." Aizen's voice was hardened, and Ichigo shyed back from it. Maybe if he wasn't beat to shit he'd have a different opinion, but he was painfully at Aizen's mercy.
Aizen continued, "You don't share my cause, but neither do you align with Soul Society. Yet here you are, inexorably tied to our conflicts and problems. You don't wish to be a part of this, Ichigo, but look at yourself."
Aizen didn't finish that statement, and Ichigo did look. He raised a hand to his forehead, tenderly prodding that head wound. It wasn't bleeding anymore, but it was far from pleasant. Red still stained the white of his shirt, bleached as a hollows mask. They contrasted uncomfortably with the black of his shihakusho; not a shinigami, and not hollow. He looked away and asked, "What's your point, Aizen?"
"You're going to need to choose a side. You can't remain sidelined for long."
"Are you asking me to join you?"
"No, Ichigo, but where else can you go. Soul Society won't allow you to remain outside of this fight."
"No thanks to you."
"You truly believe their hostility is solely my fault? Ichigo. Soul Society would cage you or kill you, do you think they would tolerate a visored?"
"Visored…" Ichigo repeated. Ichigo felt like Aizen was holding his hand, trying to show him something obvious, something a child wouldn't understand without guidance. It was infuriating to be talked down to, but painfully necessary, Ichigo didn't know what the fuck was going on.
"Yes. You aren't the first Soul Society has forsaken, and you won't be the last. Is there any love lost for shinigami with these arrancar?"
Ichigo realized what Aizen meant. Hollows were nothing but the consequence of shinigami failing to do their job. Could he blame them? He didn't think he could. Ichigo said, "So if I wanted to leave...you would let me go?"
"Yes."
Ichigo's eyes flicked up to meet Aizen's, confused and disbelieving. "But I would caution you with a word of warning. Currently, you're nothing but a traitor to them, but you're also important to them, they need you. You haven't seen Kyoya Suigetsu, and I don't intend to show it to you."
Ichigo had almost forgotten. He'd chalked it up to Aizen's arrogance, or his own weakness, but it was intentional? Brows furrowing, Ichigo asked, "Why?"
"What is that throne to you, Ichigo? Do you desire it? Would you lie me for it, fight for it, kill for it?"
Ichigo looked down, away from the room and Aizen and all of that white. He answered. "No...I don't want this."
"You aren't a threat to me, Ichigo. The things you cherish most are of no concern to me or mine. You've been under my protection for some time now." Aizen laid a hand on his shoulder, and Ichigo stiffened, a fearful chill racing up his spine. Aizen smiled at him. It wasn't colored with sadism and violence, it could almost be friendly. "Relax, Ichigo. I don't want you dead."
The healing Kido that washed over him startled Ichigo, tensing with the sudden numbness and the intrusive feeling of someone else's reiatsu so close to his skin. His breath caught when his bones realigned, it was always unpleasant to fix something so dramatic.
Aizen asked, "What will you do, Ichigo?"
Anxiety twisted Ichigo's guts into knots, He asked a question instead. "What happens if I stay?"
"What would you like to happen?"
Ichigo's eyes snapped up to Aizen's face and he answered without hesitation. "I want to get stronger." He looked down at his hands, tightening them into fists. "I want to master my hollow power, I want to fight that blue haired asshole and win." If he couldn't even beat the sexta when he was missing an arm, then what the fuck was he?
"I can help you do that."
"Why?" Ichigo demanded.
Aizen's grip on his shoulder never tightened, but he was so acutely aware of its weight as he answered, "Because it costs me nothing, and it benefits me that you have the strength to make your own choices."
Ichigo wasn't sure he was expecting honesty, but he couldn't think of a single other reason. He felt selfish, but Aizen was right, everyone in this fucking place kept being right. It only took a few minutes of conversation to convince him to stay. How pathetic was his resolve?
"Use em up, King. Take them for all their worth."
'I lost.'
"Yer alive. Take what you want from em'."
Aizen lifted his hand from his shoulder, and it was about as comfortable as gargling rocks to thank him. "Thanks."
"My pleasure, Ichigo."
Ichigo gave him a sideways look and made to get up. Aizen didn't stop him, so he stood and replaced his sword on his back, watching Aizen warily. Aizen said, "Gin will show you to your room. Accommodations have been made."
Ichigo hesitated, brows furrowed. "My room?"
Aizen's lips stretched into a smile and he stood, and even if he wasn't that much taller, it still felt like the man towered over him. He practically purred, "Yes, Ichigo, you are a guest in Las Noches."
Liar. The moment Aizen heard what he wanted to hear, his tune changed. Ichigo was under no impression this place was safe or accommodating. He chose not to say anything, his instincts screaming at him when he turned his back on the shinigami.
He left, surprisingly steady on his feet, and feeling remarkably good. Clearly the man was just good at everything, which was just great.
Ichigo left the room and found Gin waiting just outside the door. The shinigami didn't ask what was said, maybe he already knew, or he didn't care.
Ichigo asked, "What are you doing here? What do you get out of this?"
Gin started to walk away and Ichigo followed just beside him, the man grinning at the question. "Maybe I find Aizen -sama charming?"
It wasn't surprising to Ichigo that he didn't get a real answer. He asked, "Where's Grimmjow?"
"Elsewhere," Gin answered. "He doesn't need to guard you anymore."
"I don't need an "escort"?" Ichigo asked.
"Didn't say that. Grimmjow isn't the best choice anymore."
Ichigo frowned, feeling like he was missing a huge chunk of the picture. It was his life, his nose was in the mud and he was lacking the perspective to see what in the hell Gin could mean by that.
His hollow gave him a surprisingly helpful answer. "Death is a good motivator."
His hollow was right. Grimmjow had come close to killing him each time they fought, and each time he got a little better. It seemed like that was what Aizen wanted; the shinigami was so certain Ichigo would end up on his side.
'So, they're done trying to kill me?' Ichigo didn't believe that even when he 'said' it.
"Or they're stepping up their game. Careful, King. Show them you bite before they take a bite out of you."
-xxx-
I like Aizen, he's such an asshole. Who can guess who his new babysitter is gonna be?
Also, I've been drawing Bleach fanart trash. If you wanna see those shenanigans check my Twitter, and my tumblr for that lewd stuff.
Rankings
Aizen Sousuke
Kaname Tōsen & Gin Ichimaru
Espada
0: Yammy Llargo
1: Coyote Starrk & Lilynette Gingerbuck
2: Baraggan Louisenbairn
3: Tier Harribel (former: Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck)
4: Ulquiorra Cifer
5: Nnoitra Gilga
6: Luppi Antenor (former: Grimmjow)
7: Zommari Rureaux
8: Szayelaporro Granz
9: Aaroniero Arruruerie