（ red energy builds as he forms a cero, and ichigo vanishes, reappearing to slam his hand over grimmjow's and cancel out the blast, his fingers spasming closed. he's so much stronger than grimmjow now — what a weakling, you should teach him a lesson. show him what P̵̨̃À̸̫Ṭ̷͐H̵͉̚T̸̝̂Ȩ̵̈́T̸͛͜Ì̷̖C̸̮̈́ REALLY LOOKS LIKE.
with that grip still intact, he pivots and promptly kicks grimmjow through a solid stone archway of the mausoleum, the force of the blow cutting a swath through the crumbling buildings. grimmjow's delight, felt like the lick of flame through their unwitting bond, only drives that deep dark part of him further into frenzy. one of his sclera blitzes to yellow-black, and he laughs as he follows the damage to where grimmjow is just climbing out from beneath several tonnes of rock.
he doesn't even need zangetsu. he wraps one hand around grimmjow's throat and he can feel it, that filament of a total loss of control as it wends through his mind and snaps tight like a garrotte. it's been year since he felt like this, since his vasto lorde form ripped ulquiorra to pieces above the canopy of las noches, since he wanted to kill so badly he could taste it —
(he should fight the descent.
he doesn't.)
because it feels good, it feels fucking good to just let loose, to follow through on that offer he'd made all those years ago, to fight him over and over again forever — well, they're here, aren't they? dead, or as close as arrancar can ever come to it. let's see what forever looks like from this side.
— whatever follows, he has no clear memory of. flashes of laughter that's high and wild, the taste of blood in his teeth (his own? grimmjow's? he has no idea) and when the smoke clears they've rent a new schism in the earth and he feels empty and entirely spent, not an ounce of reiatsu to his name, his shihakusho in tatters. he's on his knees beside grimmjow, who looks — like a fucking mess, and neither of their swords are anywhere in sight.
he fades in and out of awareness like that, blood running into the earth, but eventually he gets up, hefts grimmjow across his shoulder and just. starts to walk. he doesn't have a real destination in mind, but ultimately he winds up at the door with his name on it, and he hauls grimmjow inside, puts him down on the bed. his mind is almost blissfully empty of thought as he goes through the motions of bandaging him up the way his dad had shown him from the time he was young — espada are tough, and unless the reduction in their power levels crops up permanently, they'll both recover.
he misses orihime in that moment, so badly he can't breathe.
whenever grimmjow wakes up, he'll find ichigo kneeling beside the bed, arms folded, cushioning his head. completely passed out, because. yeah, that was a Lot. ）
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with that grip still intact, he pivots and promptly kicks grimmjow through a solid stone archway of the mausoleum, the force of the blow cutting a swath through the crumbling buildings. grimmjow's delight, felt like the lick of flame through their unwitting bond, only drives that deep dark part of him further into frenzy. one of his sclera blitzes to yellow-black, and he laughs as he follows the damage to where grimmjow is just climbing out from beneath several tonnes of rock.
h̸͈̋ǘ̶̹r̷̩͝t̵̯͆ ̸̭͝h̴̘̕ï̷͇ḿ̸͎ ᴴᵁᴿᵀ ᴴᴵᴹ ＨＵＲＴ ＨＩＭ
he doesn't even need zangetsu. he wraps one hand around grimmjow's throat and he can feel it, that filament of a total loss of control as it wends through his mind and snaps tight like a garrotte. it's been year since he felt like this, since his vasto lorde form ripped ulquiorra to pieces above the canopy of las noches, since he wanted to kill so badly he could taste it —
(he should fight the descent.
he doesn't.)
because it feels good, it feels fucking good to just let loose, to follow through on that offer he'd made all those years ago, to fight him over and over again forever — well, they're here, aren't they? dead, or as close as arrancar can ever come to it. let's see what forever looks like from this side.
— whatever follows, he has no clear memory of. flashes of laughter that's high and wild, the taste of blood in his teeth (his own? grimmjow's? he has no idea) and when the smoke clears they've rent a new schism in the earth and he feels empty and entirely spent, not an ounce of reiatsu to his name, his shihakusho in tatters. he's on his knees beside grimmjow, who looks — like a fucking mess, and neither of their swords are anywhere in sight.
he fades in and out of awareness like that, blood running into the earth, but eventually he gets up, hefts grimmjow across his shoulder and just. starts to walk. he doesn't have a real destination in mind, but ultimately he winds up at the door with his name on it, and he hauls grimmjow inside, puts him down on the bed. his mind is almost blissfully empty of thought as he goes through the motions of bandaging him up the way his dad had shown him from the time he was young — espada are tough, and unless the reduction in their power levels crops up permanently, they'll both recover.
he misses orihime in that moment, so badly he can't breathe.
whenever grimmjow wakes up, he'll find ichigo kneeling beside the bed, arms folded, cushioning his head. completely passed out, because. yeah, that was a Lot. ）