Hey, everybody! It's been way too long, wouldn't you agree?

I've decided against my better nature to continue on and finish this fan fiction, due to overwhelming requests.

And, for anyone not skilled in internet lingo, that's code for 'one person'. Regardless. Enjoy!

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"HOLYSHITGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFFGE-!"

"Calm down, you idiot!" Danielle screeched from her perch atop Ichigo as he flailed in a panic.

It couldn't be possible.

It couldn't be real.

She was gone.

He was finally free from that fan girl; that obsessive, violent, psychotic fan girl. He'd cracked; that was it. He'd just begun to crack under the strain from living the double life of a high school student and Substitute Soul Reaper, and-

"Seriously, what are you, a dying fish? Quit floppin', will ya?"

Ichigo shoved Danielle off of himself with as much force as he could muster, gasping for breath as he did so. At first, she looked a little different; the white clothes, the straight black hair. From another angle, she looked very similar to a taller, lankier Rukia.

Which was apparently Kon's first thought, as his eyes went wide as Danielle picked herself up from the wooden floor. It was strange, in Danielle's opinion, watching his eyes widen. He was technically a stuffed animal, after all.

"Y-you?" Kon stuttered. "But-but-"

"What do you want?" Ichigo asked bluntly, not bothering to ask how she got into his house.

Or his dimension, for that matter.

"… You know, normally, someone offers a seat for a lady."

"Fuck you."

"You're not my type."

"Can someone please tell me what's going on?" Kon asked angrily from the swivel chair in front of Ichigo's desk. Ichigo and Danielle both hushed him simultaneously.

"You have thirty seconds to explain what you're doing here, or I'm calling the cops," Ichigo threatened in a shushed tone.

"Call all you like, I already asked your dad to cut the phone lines."

Ichigo paused for a moment, caught by surprise. "… Uh… Wait, what?"

"Yeah, I'm lying. He did let me in though. By the way, as far as everyone else is concerned, I'm your secret long-lost second fiancée."

"… What?"

"Also, there's a talking cat outside that's going to help me kidnap you."

"… What?"

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"Just… a little bit further…" Grimmjow gasped, dragging himself down the nearly deserted alleyway, save for a couple of paper flyers and a large blue dumpster.

"We should stop," Donald suggested, pulling Grimmjow's arm over his shoulder and helping him settle against the brick wall. "I think we're far enough now."

"Heh," Grimmjow let out a weak laugh as he collapsed against the wall, sinking to the dirty concrete ground. "They'll follow."

"Look, you need medical attention, post haste-" Grimmjow waved him off, wiping off the sweat pouring down his brow and breathing heavily. "I'll figure somethin' out. Right now, all that matters is making sure you keep breathing."

Donald blinked, wondering. "Why? Why did you take me from my home?"

Grimmjow struggled to his feet, but Donald hefted up a rusted pipe lying nearby the waste bin and pointed it at him. "Sit," he commanded, with much more force than he expected to. This time, it was Grimmjow's turn to be surprised. He glared angrily at him, but fell into another burst of wheezy coughing, and begrudgingly obliged.

"We're not going anywhere until I find out why my well-being is so important to you."

"So much for 'medical attention', huh?" Grimmjow laughed uneasily.

"That's not an answer."

Pausing for a moment, Grimmjow's bright blue eyebrows furrowed. "I hope you cut yourself with that."

Donald, hefting the pipe onto his shoulder, said "So much for my well-being, huh?"

Grimmjow's eye twitched, and Donald saw his hands clench. A momentary feeling of dread passed over him, remembering that just a short while ago, this same man with a hole in his stomach had punched something so hard that it disintegrated.

Which, by all means, was completely illogical.

"Well, you're still a dick."

"What do you mean, still?" Donald asked curiously, his dark brown eyes narrowing. "Have we met?"

"That's on a need to know basis." Grimmjow said, waving him off.

"Good to know," Donald said, deftly turning on one foot and continuing down the alley.

"H-hey! Where do you think you're goin'?" Grimmjow wheezed in panic.

"Where do you think?" Donald said coldly over his shoulder. "To get answers." And with that, kept walking without looking back.

After a few moments of contemplation, Grimmjow forced himself to his feet. He couldn't have gone that far.

Yep. He's still in there.

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Why don't you hear me?

It didn't take Donald long to reach the end of the alley, and before long, he heard Grimmjow hobbling along behind him.

It pained him to behave so cruelly to a person in need of help, but it was necessary if this plan was going to work. It disturbed him slightly, seeing how easily such callousness came to him. By his estimation, it was some representation of what he was like, well… before. His hand brushed up against the right side of his chest as he walked, and he listened to the double heartbeat for a couple of seconds.

Why?

Can't you hear my voice anymore?

What had happened to his memory? He shook his head, taking in the sights as he walked, memorizing every detail he could. A closed fruit stand here, a dimly lit pavilion there. This place was quite quaint, after rather thorough inspection.

For you.

The cold air whipped about frantically, picking up as time passed. Donald honestly had no idea where he was going, but Grimmjow kept following, so he didn't stop. There was bound to be some form of medical center near the center of town.

My HoSt.

Donald stopped, listening intently.

"… What?"

"I said, my hole!"

He turned quickly, only to discover that Grimmjow had dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach in agony. The hole in his middle had grown, and quite considerably. His eyes widened in surprise at this new development. Donald didn't really know how to treat any potential interdimensional hole-causing diseases…

Grimmjow forced himself to breath slowly, cautiously pushing himself back to his feet. Donald quickly closed the distance between them, and helped him back to his feet. Grimmjow weakly tried to push him off, but Donald's grip was much stronger than Grimmjow's. Donald picked up on this, but didn't show any outward sign of worry. His face was like a steel mask, grim and determined. He helped him hobble along, carefully continuing down the road.

Whatever was wrong with him, it was killing him. Grimmjow eventually sagged, strength completely draining out of him and leaving him limp over Donald's arm. He was dying quickly. And Donald needed help.

Although, sometimes, fate can behave quite mysteriously.

"H-hey! Hello?" Donald shouted, now sweating nervously. It wouldn't do to have his only guide in another dimension dropping dead, especially with the multitude of masked monstrosities hunting him. "Help! Is anyone awake?"

A low hissing whispered out of the darkness, and a dark form dropped from the rooftop. From his position next to an iron light pole, Donald could make out the faint outline of a sharp, arrowhead shaped white mask.

"It wants help, does it, yesssss?"

"… Oh, fuck me." Donald's double hearts skipped a couple of beats, and he gently laid Grimmjow next to the light pole. He hefted the pipe he'd grabbed from the alley up, but it was quickly knocked out of his hand. Arrowhead lurched into the light, towering over Donald. It's body was spindly, black and thin, with a large hole in the center of its chest. The white bone mask drooped down as it lowered itself to eye-level with Donald, as the hollow was at least a couple of feet taller than him.

The beast opened its mouth and hissed, revealing a smaller, redder mouth with viciously sharp teeth within the mask, and Donald skidded backwards in terror. Thinking quickly, he grabbed the only weapon in sight that he could; the zanpakuto on Grimmjow's hip. He yanked it from the sheath, brandishing it in front of him awkwardly. For a moment, the hollow stopped, and it's head began shaking violently, it's hissing coming in short bursts.

Donald originally thought it was having a seizure, before he realized that it's hissing wasn't as much hissing as it was laughter.

It was mocking him.

"Oh, it thinkssssss it sssstandsss a chansssssce, doessss i- ah!"

Donald took his opportunity of the hollow laughing at him to swipe with as much strength as he could muster with the zanpakuto, cutting deeply into the mask. Not deeply enough, apparently, as it hurled itself directly at him, screaming in rage.

"Santen Kesshun!"

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More on the way!