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A grin split the Hollow’s face. “What's the matter, Grimmjow? D’ya think that blue hair frightens anyone? Heh. Were you hoping those feline eyes of yours would have me running scared?”
A muscle jumped in Grimmjow’s cheek. This happened every damn time. Around them, white corridors twisted and looped into more white corridors until everything looked the same, the walls arching overhead like the skeleton of some ancient thing that refused to stay dead. Arrancar got lost here. Hollows did, too.
But not them.
For some reason, they always ended up in this same stretch of hallway, marked by cracks and splinters that neither of them bothered trying to make sense of anymore.
The Hollow smiled opposite him, like he'd been waiting for this all day. Bright orange hair spilled untidily around the white of his mask, framing those impossible gold eyes as they travelled over Grimmjow without a hint of shame. The pink flash of his tongue dragged lazily along the edge of bone. The air seemed to vibrate around them; Grimmjow felt it before the reiatsu fully hit. When it did, it rolled through the space in a hot wave that lifted pale dust from the broken tiles. His own energy answered on instinct, rising to meet it. The pressure between them made the walls groan.
Then all he knew was steel crashing into steel, the sound echoing for what felt like miles, dragged across the endless dunes beyond. Kurosaki disappeared the second those eyes showed up. This was all teeth. All grin. All bad ideas.
Easy, Grimmjow thought. You’ll be writing the bastard love poetry next.
Spitting a glob of blood onto the floor, Grimmjow smirked. “But here you are. Again.” He shoved Zangetsu aside with Pantera, and their blades shrieked against each other. “You always come lookin’ for me. Why is that?” He drove forward.
And the Hollow laughed, springing backwards and landing halfway up the wall. He stayed there like gravity had forgotten him, fingers and bare feet dug into smooth stone while he crouched, head cocked, smiling down at Grimmjow.
“Because you never get tired of this,” he said, yellow eyes glinting in the low light. “We’re the same, you and me.” His smirk widened. “And it just makes me wanna kill you more.”
He came down the wall on all fours, quick and loose, every movement wrong in a way that made Grimmjow’s hackles rise. When he landed, he straightened as if nothing about it had been strange.
Grimmjow rolled one shoulder. “… Tch.”
This was the problem. You could read Kurosaki like a book; the kid thought before he moved, and he was all about protecting people or some such nonsense. He hesitated, but only when it mattered.
This thing didn’t.
This thing smelled weakness and bit it.
“Can’t get enough of me, eh?” Grimmjow said, clenching the hilt of his blade and repositioning himself. He didn’t bother looking around — he knew what this hallway was like. Chunks torn from the walls, sword scars running through the stone, tiles smashed to powder beneath their feet. There wasn’t much left that still belonged to Las Noches.
He guessed it had its own kind of charm.
Yeah, his kind of charm.
“Are ya sure it’s me?” the Hollow asked. “You’re always here when I show up. Almost like you’re waiting.”
“Keep dreamin’,” Grimmjow spat, stepping sideways into a shaft of cold moonlight that spilled in through the fractured ceiling.
The Hollow charged, and Pantera met Zangetsu hard enough to shake dust from above them. The spirit pressure between their reiatsu folded in on itself instead of exploding outward; it brushed against Grimmjow’s skin, worked into his muscles and bones and sinew, daring him to push back harder.
He growled before he could stop himself.
Shit.
There were plenty of stronger opponents out there. Plenty of smarter ones, too. But none of them fought like this. Nobody else threw themselves into every swing like they wanted the next one more than the last one. Nobody else changed halfway through a strike.
Yeah, he could read Kurosaki, but he couldn’t read this fucker at all. Every time Grimmjow thought he'd found a pattern, the Hollow tore it apart and laughed in his face.
It was...
Hell, it was fun.
There was no way he could deny it, and he swore under his breath as their swords clashed. The impact cracked another tile between them, but neither of them gave ground, and neither of them was interested in ending it. Every opening became another exchange, another shove, another flash of teeth, another excuse to stay exactly where they were.
“You…” Grimmjow grunted.
The Hollow’s smile sharpened, golden eyes locking onto his. “What is it, cat? You slowin’ down?”
Their reiatsu collided and refused to give way, churning between them like a storm trapped inside too little space. The air had become so thick Grimmjow could almost taste it.
“Come on,” the Hollow purred. “Don’t go soft on me.”
“Shut up.”
Twisting, Grimmjow forced Pantera low before snapping the blade upward toward the Hollow’s ribcage, and for a second, he saw the opening. Saw it, and took it.
Then the Hollow vanished.
Grimmjow barely had time to blink before a boot whipped through the air in front of him. He caught the ankle in one hand before it could connect with his jaw, and they both froze. Silence dropped between them for the first time since the fight had begun.
“Ooh.” The Hollow leered. “This is new.”
Grimmjow kept his fist locked around the ankle. Any other time, and he would’ve swept the other leg out from under him, but for some reason, the fight stalled. The corridor seemed to shrink down until there was nothing left but hot breath and grinding reiatsu, tension tight against Grimmjow’s skin from every direction, thick enough to choke on. Dust hung motionless in the air, and somewhere high above, another crack crept through the roof with a slow, tired groan.
Too close.
Grimmjow could smell him now, blood and sweat and the strange Hollow scent beneath it all. And those damn gold eyes, staring back into his without blinking.
Curling his lip, Grimmjow said, “You think you’re under my skin?”
The Hollow twisted, and in one smooth motion, his foot slipped free and suddenly they were chest to chest, reiatsu crashing hard enough to make the wall beneath them splinter again.
“Am I not?”
He rolled his hips forward.
“I thought…”
Another deliberate shove.
“I…”
Again.
“… was.”
Grimmjow clenched Pantera so hard his fingers started to ache. His skin prickled beneath his hakama. “You bastard.”
“Keep flirting,” the Hollow said. Sweat had beaded at the edge of his mask; it glistened at the ends of his ridiculous orange hair. “I like it.”
Neither of them moved. Grimmjow knew that backing away would mean giving ground, and he wasn’t about to do that, and he knew the Hollow wouldn’t, either. But up this close, he started to understand something else that unnerved him. Their reiatsu which had, up until a few moments ago, been fighting, was no longer at odds. He could feel it. It had tangled.
And the more he focused on it, the less he could tell where his own ended and the Hollow’s began. It crawled through him, mixed with the Hollow’s until every instinct he had screamed at him to either tear the asshole’s throat out… or stay exactly where he was.
Shit.
A thought crept in before he could stop it. Wonder if the kid can feel this. The idea made him laugh despite himself.
“So what now?” Grimmjow asked. “You got a plan?”
“No.” The Hollow tilted his head, leaning in a little. “Just lookin’.”
The answer caught Grimmjow off guard. He'd expected another taunt, another challenge, another excuse to keep the fight moving, but the Hollow only studied him, those gold eyes drifting slowly across his face as though committing every line of it to memory.
“There.”
“What?”
“I found it.”
“The hell are you talking about?”
“You.”
Grimmjow blinked, and then he answered with the only sensible response he could think of: he slammed the point of his chin straight into the Hollow’s jaw. Bone cracked and the Hollow barked out a laugh that dissolved into a snarl before becoming another laugh entirely. Blood slid from the corner of his mouth.
“Ha!” the Hollow said, and then he came right back in.
He never learned. Or maybe he learned too quickly.
Blood traced a dark line down the side of his neck, and Grimmjow found himself watching it, wondering what it would taste—
No. The thought died before it finished.
He could feel the Hollow’s heart hammering against his chest, and his own answered it, the beat like the thunder of paws on compacted sand. The rhythm fell into synch for a moment before drifting apart.
“You’re listenin’.” The Hollow smiled.
“Whatever.”
“You noticed it, didn’t ya?”
“Shut up.”
“You smell different when you’re angry.”
Grimmjow scowled at him. “What?”
“And now…” A slow, curious look spread across the Hollow’s face. “You’re confused.”
“The fuck does that even mean?” Grimmjow spat.
Before he could do or say anything else, the Hollow laughed and brought one hand up, dragging his fingers into Grimmjow’s hair and yanking his head back hard. The worst part was, the noise Grimmjow made sounded wrong in his own ears — too rough, torn unwillingly from somewhere deep in his chest.
“Oh, kitty…” Hot breath brushed against his ear. “You don’t have to say it.” Another shove forward, the sharp angles and planes of the Hollow’s body surging with reiatsu, so violent the hallway shuddered on its foundations.
Grimmjow ground his molars together. “The kid’ll never forgive you.”
The Hollow froze. “… Why’d you have to bring him into this?” For the first time all fight, the grin slipped.
Then he shoved away from Grimmjow, pushing back to the opposite side of the hall. Stone burst beneath Grimmjow’s shoulder, but he ignored it because the sudden absence hit harder than any impact. The mass of reiatsu that had been building between them snapped apart, his skin buzzing where their energy had been tangled just seconds ago, and for an ugly second he almost reached out for him.
Hell.
What the fuck had that been?
Straightening, he rolled his shoulder again, trying to shake it off. Unfortunately, it didn’t work.
Across the space, the Hollow watched him, quiet for now. Really quiet.
Grimmjow hated it. “That all you’ve got?”
The words came out before he’d decided to say them, and the Hollow’s face lit up instantly.
“There you are.”
Slowly, they began circling, neither lowering their swords, neither rushing. Every instinct Grimmjow had told him the fight should’ve been over by now, but instead, it’d just changed shape.
“Heh…” The Hollow rolled Zangetsu lazily across one shoulder. “Every time.”
“What?”
“I find somethin’ new. The question is… which one of us bites first?”
“Shut up.” The words bounced harmlessly off that smirk. It wasn’t what the Hollow had said that stuck under Grimmjow’s skin; it was the way he looked at him. Like prey. Like an equal. Somehow both at once. Grimmjow gripped Pantera so hard the wrapping creaked under his hand. High overhead, another slab of stone gave way with a crack and smashed to the floor between them, scattering white dust everywhere.
“Oh…” The Hollow blinked, his face twisting with irritation. “I can feel him.”
Grimmjow already knew who he meant.
“The kid’s pushing back.” He made an exaggerated face like he’d just tasted something bitter. “Oh man, he’s pissed. Damn…” He sounded genuinely annoyed. “Slippery little shit.”
Yeah.
Perfect fucking timing.
“That it?” Grimmjow asked. “You’re leavin’?”
“What?”
“You givin’ up?”
The Hollow’s eyes flashed. “Never.” His reiatsu flared one last time, making the corridor shudder as he carved open a Garganta behind him. “I’ll be back.”
“I know.”
“This isn’t over.”
“No.” Grimmjow hitched Pantera up onto his shoulder. “It isn’t.”
“Try not to miss me, kitty-cat,” the Hollow said as he stepped backwards into the darkness.
“Fuck you.”
But that damn grin lingered until the final second, right before the Garganta closed. Silence crashed into the space, and Grimmjow stood there for a long time, staring at the place where it had been, now barely more than the suggestion of a seam.
“… Tch.”
They hadn’t finished the fight. That should’ve been what bothered him.
But for the first time, it wasn’t.