Needs moar blunt-force trauma :9

Thank-you to Q for the beta and suggestions, and thanks to all those reading.


Ichigo sat alone, in what could be called the 'outside'—he'd realized from Nel that it was an invention of Aizen's which made the giant dome covering the many miles encompassed by Las Noches appear as though it was the blue open sky of the real world. Ichigo found it insulting, knowing their intentions on Karakura and the mortal realm.

Nel had been gone for almost a week, called off for some mission, and Ichigo found himself missing her. No one else would speak with him except Grimmjow, the one person Ichigo had no interest in talking to.

He knew he was essentially on his own, and had every intention of undermining Aizen whenever the opportunity presented itself, but he couldn't stop thinking about what might be happening in the real world. It seemed like ages since he'd come to Hueco Mundo to rescue Inoue, and at least in that goal he had been successful.

What followed, after Grimmjow caught him in his escape, Ichigo couldn't remember entirely; it came back to him in bits and pieces like the memories of a fever-dream. The Espada had cornered him and his friends, and Ichigo gave himself up to save the others; he couldn't let them remain behind, whatever the cost. Protecting them was the only purpose he had left.

And he knew in his piecemeal memories that Grimmjow had taken his offer: 'Leave the others alone,' Ichigo had said, so full of confidence he didn't feel at the time. Grimmjow wouldn't have accepted him otherwise. 'You want me, then take me.'

Maybe Grimmjow had said something in return, an acceptance: affirming that Ichigo was all he truly cared about. Ichigo knew he didn't go easily even though he'd handed himself over; he'd seen the new scars on his chest and abdomen and had little recollection of how they'd gotten there. They stood out in angry, red lines. One—on his belly, near his center—stuck out the most; a mottled, pocked mark that Ichigo imagined was the remnants of Grimmjow's fist after the arrancar stabbed it into him.

They all ached with a tender weakness, the indications that whatever lay beneath was still unhealed. Nel could speed his recovery, but Ichigo remained wounded. He didn't care. If he hadn't been injured, his friends would not have escaped, and then his sacrifice would've meant nothing.

He was dragged out of his deep thoughts by another presence, and Ichigo could tell immediately who it was—Grimmjow. His opponent would never shield his power, and his reiatsu bled out like an open wound. Ichigo twisted from where he sat to glare at the other man as he approached; Grimmjow had his hands stuck in his pockets in an arrogant, relaxed posture. He looked anticipatory, as though Ichigo were a snack he'd come to enjoy.

"All on your lonesome, eh?" Grimmjow stopped several steps away from where Ichigo rested. "That ain't smart. Nel's getting sloppy."

"I don't need Nel to protect me, you dick." Ichigo scowled, before jumping down from his seat. "What d'you want?"

Maybe it was a question he didn't particularly care to hear the answer to, but Ichigo asked it just the same. He wouldn't sway before Grimmjow. Ichigo would match and fight him as long as they could both stand.

Grimmjow was laughing, a slow chuckle that rocked his shoulders. "You don't think you need her but, boy, you do. You need all the help you can get."

"Is that right?"

"Fuck yeah's right. Think about it, shinigami—you only barely scraped past me the first time, and then got your ass handed to ya. I enjoyed picking up the pieces; Ulquiorra'd never know a good thing if it turned tits-up on him."

Grimmjow stalked towards him like a predator, but Ichigo held his back straight, unmoving. The other man continued to wind a tight circle around him. "I know a gift when I'm given one. I know when a victory is more than just a proving of power." He stopped behind Ichigo, mouth beside his ear, "I could pound your skinny little ass into the sand, over and over, but nothing like that'd come close to having you just beg me to take you. Know why that is, huh?"

"Why?" Ichigo snapped, his head jerking in the direction of the arrancar's voice.

"Cause only a weak thing gives itself up readily. And that's what you are." Grimmjow stepped so he was facing Ichigo. "You always thought you were equal to me, but y'ain't. I knew that, but it took you so much longer to realize it. You still think you're as strong's me, and I'm gonna take my time showing you you're not."

"What're you talking about, you arrogant prick?" Ichigo scowled at the other man, with mere inches between them. He wouldn't flinch; Grimmjow would only lord it over him if he did.

His response drew a wide smile across Grimmjow's face, as if he expected nothing less. Ichigo's glare increased but only for a moment—up until Grimmjow's fist snapped towards him like a gunshot.

It was a move Ichigo had predicted, from the instant the arrancar showed up; Grimmjow had neither finesse nor subtlety, and Ichigo counted on that. He dodged to the side in a flash and could hear the air slice as Grimmjow's hand knifed past his ear.

Ichigo used his weight to swing around, hand in a tight ball as he threw it towards Grimmjow's bare belly—just before Grimmjow's other fist slammed the wind out of him. Grimmjow had been waiting with a second punch that caught Ichigo in his chest, throwing him back with its impact.

Ichigo staggered, his wounds protesting and fresh bile rising to burn against the roof of his mouth. He gagged, hunching over on himself.

Grimmjow was giggling excitedly; clearly glad to have caught Ichigo unawares. "How d'you ever expect to be better'n me when you walk right into my hands?"

"I wouldn't be too pleased," Ichigo coughed and spat; his mouth tasted like copper. "You feel good beating me like this, when I'm still injured?"

"Yeah," Grimmjow answered. "Why wouldn't I?"

It was a simple response, reinforcing to Ichigo the way the arrancar had always acted towards him: Grimmjow saw this fight as a game.

It disgusted Ichigo, and he snarled, "I guess I thought you had more pride than that."

Grimmjow snapped in front of him, moving faster than Ichigo's eyes could follow; all he saw before the other man hit him was a flash of fangs before his body snapped back, aching and painful.

Ichigo tumbled like a ragdoll across the sands until he hit something—a building or a ruin; it was at an odd angle that sent him flying in a chaotic spin. Ichigo cursed his weakness as he rolled wildly; he was wounded, but he'd easily fallen into Grimmjow's hands.

Ichigo skidded to a stop, finally finding his legs and he left long track marks in the sand. He gasped, panting, and blood trickled from his hairline to his chin. Grimmjow had knocked him a good one on his temple, and it'd split Ichigo's scalp; he was bleeding and didn't have time to stop it from pouring into his eye.

Ichigo didn't care. He wouldn't run like the animal—the pet, the crawling creature—that Grimmjow thought he was. He'd wait for the bastard, taking everything the arrancar wanted to dish out if that was what it took. Ichigo's hands were tight at his sides, fingers digging into their palms until it was painful.

Grimmjow appeared in a moment, perfect and untouched, with the same wide smile splitting his face. "Aw, look at you, making a stand," he simpered. "Think this'll impress? You should be running, shinigami."

Ichigo's breath was labored and he wondered if he was being stupid, still confronting the other man. But what else was there? Ichigo refused to bow to him, even if it was foolish to resist.

"I'm not afraid of you!" he snapped, teeth clenching until they hurt.

"You take all the fun outta everything."

Before Ichigo could snap off a retort, Grimmjow was upon him, his arms swinging wildly. Ichigo ducked just as the other man's feet swept beneath him, and he fell heavily. Ichigo made a snarling, heated sound as Grimmjow lunged upon him and kicked his knees up to meet the arrancar's body. Grimmjow grunted and their bodies entwined in a snaring mass.

Ichigo used his head to butt the fucker soundly in the face, and they were both stunned. They rolled together across the uneven sand until Ichigo ended up on top, shaking the fuzz from his head and punching the Espada across the face. Grimmjow snatched his arm and twisted, making Ichigo yelp as he was thrown off.

Ichigo's wounded belly and chest ached from the weight as Grimmjow leapt upon him, smirking face staring into his. "I like that you fight," Grimmjow smiled, his eyes wild and anticipatory. The arrancar's face darted down, tongue touching against Ichigo's skin to lick the blood away. Ichigo shuddered, disgusted.

"This is good, ain't it?" Grimmjow's voice murmured. "Good, yeah. So good I almost don't want you to break, shinigami. I'd miss this too much."

"Quit dreaming, fuckhead!" Ichigo's voice sounded ragged. He shoved one knee into the arrancar's stomach, and Grimmjow made a pained whine, his hold slackening. Ichigo realized he'd hit the Espada's hole—a weakness maybe, but Ichigo didn't care; it was enough for him to writhe away.

He staggered to his feet, running and not looking back as he zig-zagged across the grounds of Las Noches. He bounded off buildings for greater momentum and felt them crack under his feet. Ichigo longed instantly for his sword; he knew he'd be a better opponent with Zangetsu, but he wouldn't beg Grimmjow for it when the arrancar would clearly see such a request as a weakness. Ichigo was nothing without his sword, and fighting with fists against Grimmjow's greater strength would always place him at a disadvantage.

He dodged wildly—this area of Las Noches was a network of adjoined buildings connected by sky-bridges between white, square structures. Ichigo didn't care, so long as they gave him cover, and he dashed erratically, desperately hoping to throw Grimmjow off his trail.

Ichigo used shunpo to quicken his steps; he wasn't one to shy from a fight—he'd shown as much already—but knew enough to recognize when he should. His muscles ached and he felt a sudden, sharp jerk in his stomach—something was wrong. He dashed behind a crumbled ruin and hunkered down, gasping for breath as he nursed a tender stitch in his side. Maybe he'd pulled something free internally, or the scuffle from Grimmjow had done so—either way, his breaths took on a painful edge.

Ichigo heard cackling behind him, still at a distance but with the abrasive edge, like the whine of a hyena. "You're making me feel bad for ya, shinigami!"

How did it come to this, Ichigo wondered: hiding scared like a trapped rabbit, with his heart pounding away inside his chest. In any other situation he would've felt ashamed.

"Think you can run but I can smell you from here, brat. You stink of fear."

Ichigo hated it; he wasn't afraid of the other man, but it would be deadly not to appreciate Grimmjow's power.

Ichigo stilled his breath until he made no sound. He didn't make a move and calmed his mind; Grimmjow would be attracted to his reiatsu unless he controlled it. Ichigo waited for long moments—not breathing, not thinking. He could hear nothing from the arrancar, and for a fleeting, hopeful moment he imagined he'd escaped.

"Gotcha," Grimmjow said, and his mouth was right beside Ichigo's ear.

Ichigo startled, flinging himself away and scrabbling to his feet, but Grimmjow was faster. Like a true predator, he leapt upon Ichigo, bearing him to the ground with his own body.

Ichigo was left with his face pressed into the dirt; Grimmjow's breath was hot against the back of his neck. Cornered like prey; it was terrifying and embarrassing.

"To think you ever equaled me." Grimmjow's smirk was in his voice. "That's a joke. That's all you are, shinigami."

"Give me my sword, Grimmjow," Ichigo gasped, writhing beneath the other man. "Or are you afraid of what I'd do with it?"

That brought a bawdy, howling laugh from the Espada. "You think that'd get you far? You do gotta big head, I'll give you that. All the more reason for me to knock you back to where you belong."

Ichigo wouldn't go easily, and threw his head back; it cracked soundly against the other man's jaw. He snaked away, kicking sand into Grimmjow's eyes before crawling on hands and feet like a crab, far enough so that Grimmjow's snaring hands could no longer catch him.

"Why don't you give it to me?" he demanded, regaining his feet. "Or is this the only fight you think you'll win at?"

Grimmjow was wiping at a thin trail of blood; Ichigo had split his lip. The arrancar still seemed relaxed, playful; as though Ichigo were the most minor of threats. "Heh, I like this game. And you'd be just the same with a zanpakuto; why bust you up even worse with slices when I can it with my hands?"

Grimmjow charged at him using sonido, and the static burst was all the warning Ichigo had. Ichigo threw a hard arm up to protect himself, and Grimmjow slammed into it, knocking them both back a step but Ichigo braced himself solidly. The arrancar sneered into his face.

"Run, you little shit. Make this fun for me."

"Fuck you," he snarled, shoving the other man off.

"Hah," Grimmjow laughed and snatched the front of Ichigo's jacket. "Afraid, huh? Of me, or of the pain? I'll give you both."

"Then do it." Ichigo grabbed the wrist that held him, squeezing painfully, but Grimmjow took little notice.

Instead, the Espada lifted him off his feet by the cloth of his coat. "You think I'll stop if you don't fight back, eh? Like I care you ain't worried? You're ruining what this is about, shinigami."

Ichigo felt his breath snatched away as the collar of his shirt dug into his throat, choking him. His feet kicked pitifully and instinctively, but then the arrancar's arm jerked back and Ichigo was flying in the open air; Grimmjow had thrown him and now Ichigo was spinning wildly. He slammed into the sand once, unable to stop the rebound as he crashed against it a second time.

With the momentum Grimmjow had given him, Ichigo rolled, landing on his feet and he set off running again, desperate to avoid Grimmjow's clutching hands. It was disturbing how possessive the other man seemed. He was like a cat toying with a crippled bird, batting it about and letting it think it'd escaped only to pounce upon it again. A cat in that instance had no use for a dead bird—Grimmjow wanted Ichigo to run for his own amusement, for as long as he could.

Ichigo went for miles before he dashed behind a tall building, hunched and breathless. He huddled behind the frame of one of the red pillars that dotted the open dome; he knew he could race Grimmjow for ages around and around Las Noches and the Espada would never grow tired. Ichigo would, he already was; his breath tore in his lungs and brought a sharp stitch at the pain already in his side.

"You're still fast, I like that." He'd barely recovered before he heard Grimmjow approaching, "But that ain't good enough, is it?"

Fuck, how could the other man be so quick? It wasn't fair. Ichigo cursed, biting his bottom lip as the building shuddered. There was a crack and the entire structure jerked, its mortar buckling as Grimmjow broke it down with his fists. Ichigo knew this would never end until all the buildings in Las Noches were demolished.

Bricks and boulders were crashing down beside him as he escaped but Ichigo stopped himself from going far; he watched as the pillar crumbled as easily as those he and Grimmjow had torn down during their decisive fight. When it fell and its red-tinged dust cleared, Grimmjow was walking towards him, slowly; Ichigo realized he was stalking him.

Ichigo wouldn't move this time. He'd learned from earlier that if he did, Grimmjow would chase him; he'd never stop. But Ichigo could stop, right now—even if it killed him. It would mean dying with his pride rather than later, crawling on hands and feet. Ichigo set his shoulders and waited, right up until Grimmjow was only meters away from him. They'd been this close before, only moments ago, but even now Ichigo's breath felt tight in his chest. He hated himself because he could only react to what the other man did.

The arrancar's smirk never left his face as Grimmjow eyed him excitedly. "What're you trying to pull, shinigami? This ain't any fun. Think I won't kill you? You're wrong."

"This can't be satisfying, Grimmjow. This isn't even a fight," Ichigo said. "If you're enjoying this you disgust me."

"Think being brave'll impress me?" Grimmjow simpered. "That look in your eyes shows me you still don't know you're beaten. I'll make you realize it, however long this takes."

"I'm not afraid of you!"

"Oh but you are, you reek of fear," Grimmjow's smile was cocky and he tipped his head to the side. "Maybe not cause'a losing a fight but you know what I'll do to you after. You're right to be worried."

He rushed in an instant, just as before—Grimmjow hoped Ichigo would run, spooking him into a chase the other man could follow. Ichigo held his body rigid and shut his eyes tightly, painfully. He saw white nose behind his eyelids as he anticipated the blow; at least if Grimmjow killed him now he wouldn't die ashamed.

He waited for a long moment, his body tense but then—"Grimmjow."

Ichigo's eyes snapped open and his heart seemed to stop and re-start in quick succession. He gasped; Grimmjow's fist was held only centimeters from his face.

"Grimmjow. What is the meaning of this."

Did Ulquiorra ever actually ask a question? It was the most logical thought Ichigo's mind could come up with. The other Espada was standing beside them both, one hand stopping Grimmjow's arm with power greater than either of them could imagine.

Grimmjow tore away. "What the fuck d'you want?"

"How many buildings have you destroyed, Grimmjow?" Ulquiorra's voice was as empty as the promise of an open tomb. "How many buildings do you believe still remain?"

"What the fuck's it matter to me?" Grimmjow sneered, incensed.

Ichigo could feel his heart skipping in his chest; he seemed very much forgotten by both Espada.

"Aizen has words for you. Follow me." It was not a request and Ulquiorra turned on one pointed heel. "Now."

"Che." Grimmjow snorted shortly but followed, not even sparing a backwards glance for Ichigo. But he called after, "This ain't finished, Kurosaki. Count yourself lucky."

Ichigo wanted to spit back a retort but his words and breath died in his mouth; he felt exhausted to his bones but still wanted to shout after Grimmjow for leaving the fight unfinished.

And why provoke him further? Ichigo didn't know but he wasn't so intimidated not to throw everything back in the arrancar's face.

Ichigo turned and felt dizzy. His feet were clumsy under him after all the time they'd spent flying through the sands without gravity. He stumbled before sinking heavily on a boulder loosened by one of Grimmjow's attacks.

Why did he care that Grimmjow walked away from a fight, even under duress? He took strength from recognizing when his opponent only toyed and used him—he was weak but not stupid.

His inner confidence was tinged with a lingering despair: he was going to be here for the foreseeable future, fending off Grimmjow at every opportunity. Ichigo couldn't win on power alone unless he got his sword back. He would have to rely on patience and cunning—neither were his preferred methods, particularly where they concerned Grimmjow.

His stomach sank, though that could be blamed on the sharp pains from his over-worked injuries. Ichigo looked around him; he had no idea where he was. Still in a prison, but one that was enormous. He could return to his room, but that would only make his cage a cell—though an appealing one: Ichigo's muscles ached down to the bones, and he had a sharp cramp in his side from running.

Ichigo rested for what seemed like ages until he made his way slowly to a building that was still standing. He didn't know what would be inside but it was a step towards his own room and a hot bath.


Thank you for reading! I appreciate any comments or criticisms you'd like to give.