And here is the next part! Thanks to everyone for reading. I really appreciate your kind reviews and words 3

Thanks to my beta readers, Q and B.


Ichigo awoke, groaning; his body ached and his chest burned as though he'd been in a punching match with Tatsuki. He was on his side, cold and stiff, the hard floor of the bare cave seeming twice as bad as when he'd fallen asleep. Ichigo couldn't imagine he'd been out that long, not for how tired he still was.

"Not totally dead, yeah?" It was Grimmjow's voice.

"Go away," he gasped. It was the most he could do. Every breath was painful.

"Get up."

Ichigo didn't move, until Grimmjow's hands were pushing at his shoulders. He shoved Ichigo so he was flat on his back, stifling a whimper.

"You that bad off? Shit." Grimmjow's hands were back, on Ichigo's wounded chest as he undid the fastenings of his uniform.

Ichigo batted the fingers away, rising up on his elbows. "Fuck off, what d'you want?"

"Heh," Grimmjow was snickering. "I saw the way that thing was batting you around; your ribs're all jacked up. Shoulda done this earlier."

"Then why didn't you?" Ichigo snarled, irritated. He wasn't about to deal with Grimmjow on top of a crushed chest, and the creature from before had broken his bones, holding him tightly and squeezing. Ichigo had felt his ribs crack, but hadn't thought it'd be this bad.

"I was hoping you'd be more of a trooper, yeah?" Grimmjow smirked. He reached for Ichigo's jacket but Ichigo beat him to it, releasing the fastenings himself. If Grimmjow wanted to bind his ribs, Ichigo wasn't going to be an invalid about it.

"Why're you doing this?" he mumbled, as Grimmjow looped a length of cloth around his torso. His hands were cool and light against Ichigo's skin.

"Guess I don't wanna lug your scrawny ass the whole way, huh?"

Ichigo felt slightly disconcerted; he had woken up not a moment ago, and now Grimmjow was attending to him like Ichigo was a kitten that needed a splinted leg. The arrancar moved gingerly and cautiously, and he didn't meet Ichigo's eyes.

Grimmjow had looped the wrappings several times around his chest and began tightening each one, painfully. "Ouch, you fuckhead," Ichigo snapped. "That hurts."

"Stop whining, it's your own damn fault. I'll leave you behind if you keep it up."

Ichigo glared at him from inches away. "You wouldn't for a second, after all this. I'm not stupid."

"Aw, and here I thought you'd want me to let you go." Grimmjow's smile was amused. "How times change, eh, shinigami?"

"Fuck you!" Ichigo said it angrily, but he didn't feel it. He knew he wouldn't be getting far with the way his chest ached, but it sucked that the person binding his injuries was Grimmjow.

They were silent for a long moment, Grimmjow attending to his wounds and Ichigo unable to think of anything to say. In general, Ichigo didn't like to be touched, particularly not by the arrancar, since it usually ended painfully. Not that he couldn't handle that; he could, and would prefer it over what he had now—Grimmjow being careful, and leaving Ichigo with his thoughts as they turned against him. He wanted to concentrate on anything else than the light touches, and how close they were to each other.

"Did you find another hollow?" Ichigo asked, searching for anything to interrupt the quiet.

"Huh?" Grimmjow raised his eyes, but shrugged. "Yeah. Probably, I can feel something out there."

"How far?"

"Che, whining already, what a surprise—"

"I am not," Ichigo scowled, but it only provoked another of Grimmjow's cocky smirks. There was blood matting the arrancar's wild hair, and it flopped stiffly in unfamiliar angles. "I just want to know if it'll be as big as that last one."

"You really are worried, aren't you? Scared of getting squished like a little bug?"

"More like afraid of getting left to fend on my own again, with a worthless sword."

"And even more worthless excuses," Grimmjow snorted.

"Oh, that is fucking it!" Ichigo snarled, sudden anger setting every nerve on fire. He twisted away from Grimmjow's hands before pouncing, knocking the other man over. Ichigo managed to get two solid hits in across Grimmjow's cheek, making him splutter in surprise before a hard fist knifed into Ichigo's diaphragm. He gagged, vision graying for a moment as Grimmjow slammed him on his back.

Ichigo swallowed past the taste of blood in his throat, choking off a pained whine. He hadn't really expected that to work, but there was only so much of Grimmjow's taunting he was willing to take. Ichigo still had some principles left.

Grimmjow had one hand pressed solidly over his chest, and was snickering. "You never know when to quit, do you?"

"Would you be any different?" The roof of the cave spun lazily in Ichigo's blurry vision.

"I'd never be stupid enough to get myself in your position, so I guess I'll never know."

Ichigo remained flat on his back, arms flopped uselessly on either side and allowed the arrancar to finish bandaging his chest without resistance. The cave had a strange smell Ichigo hadn't noticed earlier: dust and age, sour like decay. He realized it was the stench of hollows, stale like an open grave. The arrancar all felt different from that, more alive—a welcome change that came along with the extra power the Hougyoku gave them. Something more familiar, but Ichigo knew he'd be smarter to ignore that; he needed to remember what Grimmjow was at his core, which was a monster, dead and empty.

"Hey, Grimmjow," he started, and Grimmjow's eyes flicked to his face. "What were you like? Before, I mean. As a hollow."

Grimmjow made a derisive sound. "What's it matter?"

"I'm just asking." Ichigo swallowed. "The hollow we killed, it said you were tiny."

"That's a fucking lie!" Grimmjow glared at him. "And size ain't ever a matter of strength." He smiled at Ichigo, full of teeth. It reminded Ichigo of the hollow's giant, toothy grimace. "You should know that, little thing that you are."

"Go to hell!"

"Already there, brat," Grimmjow simpered. "And here I've taken you with me."

Ichigo didn't say anything, only glaring in return. He didn't like having Grimmjow so close and so disturbingly careful. It was strange and not what he was used to; Ichigo felt as if he moved or spoke it would dispel whatever calm sense they had between them. Ichigo worried that he enjoyed it; it felt like a betrayal. He should always hate Grimmjow, eternally and without reservation.

Ichigo hated that he couldn't.

Grimmjow murmured, after a moment, "You don't get anywhere in this world unless you seek out strength. I could age until I was the same as that thing but I got there twice as fast bowing to Aizen. Go ahead and give me whatever bitchy smile you wanna, but I'll take anything over a life crawling these sands hoping to survive."

"I know you don't give a shit about Aizen," Ichigo responded. "So why'd you go after the things he wants?"

He hoped Grimmjow would realize he was talking about the hollow they'd killed, and he did, giving Ichigo a smug grin. "Because it's fun. Because I love a good fight, fuck, what else is there? And I gotta get Aizen-sama back on my good terms, y'know what I mean?"

"Am I really that bothersome?" Ichigo raised an eyebrow.

"He's already after me to be nicer to ya. I can't bring you back all busted up; he'll get on my ass."

Ichigo scowled, looking at the bare stone beside his hands; anywhere but at Grimmjow. This entire routine seemed too strange for what he was used to with the arrancar. "I'm surprised you're not punching me in my broken ribs."

It made Grimmjow snicker. "Think of it this way: I don't want you getting too badly busted up, cause then I'll have to wait for you to get better. Neliel can't do shit for broken ribs; she's only useful for open wounds, if that. You go around with these unbound, and I gotta two-week wait on my hands."

"It always comes back to a fight with you, doesn't it?"

"How else should it be?"

Ichigo was at a loss; how else should it have been? He wasn't even sure what he wanted. He wanted away, to be sure—from Grimmjow's possessive glances, until he was simply his own person again. He remembered what that was like, and worried that one day he'd forget. He wondered what it would be like to be away from the arrancar's constant, unignorable presence, after they'd been together in such close quarters for so long.

"You're always so pretty when you're in pain," Grimmjow said, drawing a hand across Ichigo's bandaged side. "But I like it better when I'm the one breaking you."

"I hate you," Ichigo snapped immediately.

Grimmjow stuck his face right up into Ichigo's, sneering and the blue markings at his eyes creased from his smile. "I fucking hate you too. Now get your ass up so I don't got another reason to hate you."

Ichigo didn't like obeying, even when it made sense. Grimmjow had wounds from his fight with the hollow, but they were mostly superficial; small cuts and lacerations covering his exposed skin. It was what the stupid fucker got for walking around without a shirt on, in Ichigo's mind.

Ichigo realized he was staring a little too hard at the wounds on Grimmjow's chest— Grimmjow liked to parade himself about and it was always a distraction. Why, though? Ichigo felt ashamed for a moment, looking and wanting him; he would've rather continued with unbridled hatred for as long as he could. Anything less was too close to giving in, but Grimmjow's naked abdomen was perfect: lean and narrow, and the way his muscles in his hips tapered beyond his hakama's waistband made Ichigo wonder what lay beneath. He was annoyed at himself for even considering such things, and blamed Grimmjow entirely.

Ichigo didn't want to be caught staring and stood, wrapping his tattered uniform back around and fastening it down the front. The white cloth became more worn by the day and he wondered what would happen when he finally needed a replacement.

He joined Grimmjow at the entrance to their sheltered cave; the night sands didn't look any different from before. He raised a skeptical eyebrow, "What happened to the storm?"

"Che, it veered off and never hit. Lucky."

"Lucky. Right." Ichigo had thought the prick was just using that as an excuse before. Grimmjow cared enough to let him rest, but was still too stubborn to admit it. It told Ichigo more than he wanted to know—the arrancar, despite all appearances, actually did give two shits about him, whether he'd own up to it or not. Ichigo wasn't sure whether he was pleased or terrified.

It took them only a fast hour's traveling to find their second target—Ichigo had completely lost track of time, sleeping mid-day, when day looked like night in the first place—but he was eager and awake for a fight when they reached the adjucas-hollow. It wasn't as large as the previous one, and had more arms than it needed. Ichigo was busy just keeping out of its many-limbed reach, and led it on a good chase to distract it, while Grimmjow attacked from behind. The other man didn't leave Ichigo on his own this time.

As fast as he was, Ichigo's tight chest restricted his movements enough that the hollow caught him once with a glancing blow that sent him sprawling. He would've been worried, but Grimmjow had steadily been hacking away at the thing, and went into a frenzy once its attention was diverted to Ichigo's crumpled form. Ichigo was worried the arrancar would end up destroying this hollow as well, leaving them with nothing again, but then he was blinded by a flash of light so intense he could almost feel its heat on his skin.

When Ichigo got to his feet, the hollow was gone; just Grimmjow standing in its former position, grinning triumphantly. Something about his movements made Ichigo expectant, his heart hammering in his chest, and not from the fight—

"Not bad for a cripple, shinigami," Grimmjow smiled. "Looks like we gotta real nice one."

Grimmjow said it like they'd both reeled in a hundred-pound fish after a day on a lake. The arrancar moseyed up alongside him, happier than Ichigo had seen him in weeks.

"What'd you do?" Ichigo hadn't seen whatever Grimmjow used to capture the hollow—but he was tossing a tiny, square box in his hand casually. Ichigo imagined it contained the other creature, somehow.

"I kicked its ass, what else? Didn't you see?" Grimmjow and sounded offended. "You oughta pay more attention."

"So you can show off? Please," Ichigo squared his shoulders in annoyance, not liking how much he wanted to pay attention to Grimmjow, now. "I get more of your fucking ego than I need already. Let's just go."

He began marching back in the direction he imagined Las Noches lay, thoroughly disoriented but not about to admit it. Grimmjow fell into step beside him, still smiling widely. Ichigo could smell him. He imagined he stank as well; three days of gritty sand, blood, and sweat clinging like a second skin. Ichigo thought longingly of a hot bath, to wash it all away and clear his mind.

"Nice job distracting that thing," Grimmjow said, casually. Like they were friends; when had that happened?

Why didn't Ichigo want it to stop? "Is that all I am, a distraction? Asshole."

"Oh, c'mon, like you're gonna do much all banged up like you are," Grimmjow answered, his voice playful. He shoved his shoulder against Ichigo's, "At least you're useful."

"If that's a compliment, it's a really shitty one." Ichigo's voice and words were bitter, but he didn't feel it, not entirely. He still resented the arrancar, but his hold on his anger was slipping, replaced by an easy, competitive challenge. A rival rather than an enemy; Ichigo knew he was losing his grip if he saw things that way, but it'd been building for a while. A strange sense of companionship that he wondered if Grimmjow shared, and it worried Ichigo that he wanted the arrancar to feel the same way—as if Grimmjow had any understanding of feeling the way Ichigo did.

He glanced at the other man; Grimmjow had his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hakama, his shoulders slouching as they walked, endlessly, back the way they'd come. Ichigo couldn't stop staring from the corner of his eye, something stirring within him, and he hated that out of all the times in his life he felt attracted to another person, it had to be Grimmjow.

Out of impulse and as though he couldn't even control himself, Ichigo's hand slid out and under the arrancar's loose jacket, touching the newly branded mark on his lower back. Grimmjow stiffened but didn't pull away, his head turning slightly in Ichigo's direction.

"I liked the six better," Ichigo said, responding to the unasked question.

"Che, that's cause you could actually stand a chance against me then," Grimmjow snapped. His weight shifted back, against Ichigo's hand, and he didn't bother to remove it.

"Whatever, fuckhead. You're no stronger than you were before, I'll prove it eventually. And that's not the reason, so stop congratulating yourself."

"Then what?"

Ichigo shrugged and let his hand fall back to his side. It felt strange to keep it in place, though he wanted to; Grimmjow's skin was smooth and the movements of his muscles as they walked were relaxing and repetitive. Ichigo wanted to touch the hole in his stomach, such a gaping, empty wound seemed abnormal and interesting. He wondered what it would feel like and if Grimmjow would notice, if it was sensitive like a newly-given scar.

"Just the way it looked, I guess. It suited you better. I guess the four seems too much like Ulquiorra."

"Hah, and we'd hate to think'a him now, wouldn't we?" Grimmjow laughed.

Ichigo fought a longing to loop his arm around Grimmjow's waist as they walked together, if only to feel the warmth of another person. The desert was cold and there were knots forming between his shoulder blades, in the spaces between his ribs. He hated the vulnerable sense he had, with his feelings at the surface, as though they were a new wound as well. Better to bury them, and especially before the arrancar took notice and rubbed Ichigo's face in it. He knew the way Grimmjow's brain worked; any concession at all from hatred to whatever was left over would be a weakness in the arrancar's mind. Ichigo knew he was thinking too hard and too obviously, and the silence seemed oppressive.

"How did it work?" Ichigo started, not really sure where their conversation was going. It wasn't like them to actually have conversation. "When you got a new number, did Aizen burn it off of you?"

"S'not how it works, it's not anything. The number. It's just there, as soon as Aizen gives it to you."

"Oh." They were quiet again, but it wasn't uncomfortable. "Did you get more power, then? To equal the rank; I know you're strong, Grimmjow, but you weren't Ulquiorra's strength when I fought you."

"You trying to start something, fucker?" Grimmjow snarled, taking Ichigo's words as a challenge. His lips curled before his eyes turned back to the sandy horizon. "Hmph. It's just how Aizen works. He knows better than to ditch those of us still around, he wouldn't have anyone left. That's how Nel got her place back, see?"

Ichigo nodded but didn't say anything in return.

Grimmjow continued, "He knows he's wasted nearly everybody to get to where we are now. That's why we're out here catching new recruits."

Ichigo found it a strange way of looking at recruiting, when you were actively defeating and abducting those who would be indoctrinated. But it made a sort of sense, in the world of hollows where strength and power was all that mattered. He'd learned enough from being their captive to know that pre-arrancar hollows were frightened, terrified beings, constantly seeking those stronger than themselves in order to grow.

Grimmjow seemed similar, when Ichigo factored him into the equation, as though the blue-haired Espada was still driven by forces that dictated dominance and antagonism in order to survive. Ichigo wondered if they would ever grow beyond that, if Grimmjow could ever see him as a person rather than an opponent.

"Aizen knows he doesn't have a lot left after the war. Better to reward those still living than leave us as we were. He'd be starting up from ground zero, otherwise," Grimmjow offered, his shoulders still hunched. He shrugged and Ichigo imagined the way his muscles would feel against his hand, had he still held it against Grimmjow's back.

"Are you hoping to be strong as Stark one day?" Ichigo asked, not really knowing why. He simply didn't want the easy exchange they had to end.

"I am strong as that lazy fucker, don't doubt it, you prick," Grimmjow snapped. "Strong as Ulquiorra. I could take him now, even if he's ranked second. Aizen and all of 'em, they don't look at it the same way—I could beat everyone of 'em, but we'd both die, and they just ain't ready for that."

"That's because that's how winning works," Ichigo scoffed. "It's not winning if you die at the same time."

"Whatever, that's what you think," Grimmjow growled. "Doesn't mean I wouldn't take 'em down. I'd call that a win in my mind."

Ichigo rolled his eyes, knowing the other man wouldn't see it, but still did so for his own consolation. Grimmjow was simply too self-conscious of his own power to ever admit he wasn't as strong as the others. And maybe he would win against Stark if both of them fought until they died; the same way as Grimmjow had lost against Ichigo but still couldn't admit defeat.

He remembered Grimmjow, panting and bleeding, still holding his sword proudly and demanding Ichigo continue to fight him—Ichigo hadn't had any patience for Grimmjow's stubborn routine then, and still found it terribly irritating.

He hadn't wanted to kill Grimmjow then, but he won because he simply wanted to more than the arrancar had. If that were possible when it came to Grimmjow—but Ichigo had needed to beat the Espada, because winning meant saving Inoue. When Grimmjow had fallen and Ichigo took his hand, lowering him to the ground, it was because he was unwilling to throw such a strong opponent's life away needlessly. Ichigo realized that he still didn't want Grimmjow to die, even though he hated the arrancar.

That was the truth—he still hated Grimmjow and held the cinder of it deep inside himself. Ichigo could want the arrancar as deeply as he did, but he'd never let that go. He'd never escape this place if he allowed his base instincts to run wild, and he recognized this attraction as such. Knowing that was the truth didn't stop it from existing, no matter how much Ichigo wished that was possible.

"C'mon," Grimmjow said, shifting to his sonido speed, and Ichigo jumped to match him. "I don't feel like walking the whole way. This fucker's getting impatient, anyway."

Grimmjow nodded to the small cube in his hand.

"Can it escape from that?"

"Nah, only Espada could," Grimmjow's tone didn't falter, even traveling at the speeds they were. The desert was only a white blur around them. "But I don't feel like having a heart-to-heart with you in the time between now and Las Noches, dumbass."

Ichigo glared at the other man, seeing his white teeth flashing as they jumped across the sands. He struggled to keep up and was annoyed by it. Irritated as well by Grimmjow's evasiveness; Ichigo had enjoyed simply talking with the other man with less at stake than they normally held.

Maybe their conversation was getting a little too functional. That Ichigo wanted them to remain that way was more worrisome.


I realize this relationship is moving soooooo slooooooowly, but at least Ichigo's got enough head on his shoulders to start taking a clue, amirite?