Angry at the World

The world was white. Grimmjow didn’t seem to be thinking about his actions, just doing, which meant something wasn’t right. He scratched his head as he looked all around him. There was still nothing but white. Boring. Boring and fucking stupid. His first dream and everything was white. How retarded of his brain. Then he thought he heard something crying-- A child. Pft. He knew humans got erotic dreams. Why did he get ones about crying kids? Grumpily he moved towards the source, until he could see the shape of the child. A little strawberry.

He shook his head, hoping the kid just had red hair, and wasn’t really Kurosaki Ichigo poking into his dreams. He heard him cry for his mother, and he sighed. It was him. It was a little funny and a little sad to see a sniffling and stuffed up Kurosaki wiping his eyes and trying to be a big boy. He looked like maybe he was twelve or something. There was a ghost of the body he had now, the same angry eyebrows and a smaller form. He smirked.

“Hey kid, I don’t think your momma’s gonna come back,” he said.

“I know,” he said quietly. “But I’m scared…” Grimmjow squinted. Was the kid bloody? He couldn’t get any closer to him. “Help me?” Little Ichigo looked up at him. What the fuck was this?

“Hey kid,” he heard his own voice speak, more sinister than usual. But it was…Another him, walking up to Kurosaki, while he stood off to the side. “You know better than to ask for help,” he said with a grin. He knelt down next to him and punched his cheek, which knocked him to the ground.

“Cut it out dickhead!” He found himself saying. Sure, he’d kick Ichigo’s ass. But not without provocation.

“I’m just havin’ a little fun with the Strawberry…” he said while stroking his bruised cheek. “He’s so pretty, ain’t he?” The other Grimmjow grinned, and then ripped Ichigo’s shirt from him. He cried out.

“Stop it! Stop!” he tried to crawl away, but the other Espada easily pinned him down. Grimmjow was starting to get a bad feeling about this dream.

“I wish you’d put up a better fight, Berry-chan… You’re so sexy you when you struggle,” he purred.

“Hey, what the fuck are you doin?” he asked himself, feeling irate. “He’s a little kid! Lookit you, you’re a grown man, get your kicks off a stupid Shinigami or something!”

“Tch,” his other self replied. “He’s only a little younger than when you fucked ‘im. The only difference is this one doesn’t look like a man.” He tore at little Ichigo’s pants, which made him scream. He tried to claw at Grimmjow’s arms, but left only faint marks.

“Get away from me you psycho!” He screamed. Other Grimm chuckled darkly.
“It only bothers you Grimmy, cause you can pretend the one you fucked was all growed up, but you can’t make no excuses here. You get to see who you really fucked, and you get to enjoy it. I know I will,” he said while shrugging off his jacket. Grimmjow stared. It wouldn’t really happen. Whatever stupid hijinks his subconscious was trying to pull here, he wouldn’t rape little Ichigo. That wouldn’t serve any purpose as at all. Little Ichigo was what he wanted to…

“No!” The hoarse cry was all Ichigo could manage before Grimmjow thrust into the helpless boy below him and moaned. He stumbled back in shock.

“Say no again, Ichigo!”

“Get away from him!” He roared. Whatever this thing was, even if it looked like him, it wasn’t him. How dare he touch his Ichigo, his boy. “He is mine, and scum like you don’t get to fucking touch him!” His voice increased with volume the more he spoke, and he slammed viciously on the invisible barrier between himself and the scene in front of him. An angry, shaking, and destructive Grimmjow was a terrifying sight. Tall, muscled, and the threat of violence with every movement. The barrier didn’t budge. His strawberry struggled underneath him, sobbing and cursing. His other self moaned like he was having the time of his life, rocking back and forth, thrusting deeper and grunting with satisfaction whenever he elicited a cry of pain.

He felt lewd. He felt sick, watching this. Nauseous. It was so brutally wrong. Ichigo’s eyes, dead, looked over at him, and his mouth silently formed “help.” He was the wrong person to be asking…

“Don’t…Don’t you listen to him Ichigo,” he found himself saying forcefully. He fell to his knees to be closer to him. “Not everybody’s like me…not everybody’s gonna hurt you…” He fell to the ground to look him eye to eye. He still felt so sick, so responsible for all of the wrongs. “You can stay strong; you don’t have to hate everybody! They’re not all like me!” Somehow, a faint smile formed through the tears. How could he be smiling now, while he hurt him so?

“I’ll save you, Grimmjow…” He stared at him, eyes wide in shock. What?

“…You got no right to save me, kid...”

“Then how are you gonna help me?”

“…Gonna…kill everything…Gotta… I gotta…It’s been building up forever Ichigo, I gotta rip something apart, I got—“ Ichigo screamed as the Grimmjow above him dug his nails into the boys hips. “ENOUGH! Killing is all I got, and I can’t help you no more! ENOUGH!” The scene disappeared. He could hear himself heaving. What was this supposed to mean? To tell him what he’d done? To tell him he was crazy. He knew. He already knew that, and he could feel his strong hands itching to cause violence. Where could he bleed out this madness? How to get rid of whatever had made him watch the violation of the one person he actually was concerned about? It was time for someone to pay…

…Kurosaki Ichigo...How dare he make him feel this way? Grimmjow would make the pain stop by killing the person who made him feel it.

~

Unzipping reality. A jagged black hole in the sky.

“Kill anyone with high reiatsu, but stay away from Kurosaki. He’s mine.” Laughter.

~


“Soul Society won’t send anyone but Toshiro and the others?” Ichigo asked Rukia as they walked back to his home.

“We’re lucky we’ve got a captain at all,” she replied while checking her cell phone. “Some of them aren’t taking this seriously…”

“Tch,” he clicked his teeth and rested his hands behind his head. “This General dude is a real asshole. If you all didn’t need me he’d probably have the captains on my ass,” he said, annoyed.

“You know,” she said slowly. “I don’t think any of them would go after you.”

“’Cept Zaraki. But just for fun, the psycho,” Rukia smirked.

“Soi Fong might have done it, if Yoruichi weren’t on our side. Genryuusai-dono must be willfully ignoring that she reports almost exclusively to Yoruichi now,” she commented, and closed her cell phone with a snap. “No Hollows, it looks like. Not that that means you get the evening off,” she said sharply.

“Yeah yeah, decision making capabilities suspended. Gotcha.”

“Good. Maybe you can do your homework for once--“ A deathly hum cut off Rukia’s gentle jibe at Ichigo. Pressure surrounded them, tight and suffocating, reiatsu full of deadly intent. “What…What is this? Arrancar!?” Ichigo grimaced and steadied himself against the increasing pressure.

“Get out of here Rukia!” He pulled out his substitute Shinigami badge and pressed it against his chest. He stumbled forward as a Shinigami. “Take my body, and watch over Karin and Yuzu, got it!?” Rukia caught his body and stared at him.

“You’re mad if you think I’m going to let you face this alone! Whatever the hell this is, there must be four or five of them!” She clenched her fists. He could sense the power of these new enemies, and he knew what he was going to say next wasn’t going to go over well with Rukia.

“Do you really think you could handle someone with this kind of reiatsu?” he said quietly, serious as anything as he pulled Zangetsu from his back. Rukia’s nails dug into her palms.

“…Don’t do something stupid,” she said, and shouldered his body. He let go of the breath he hadn’t know he’d been holding.

“Thanks, Rukia,” he said. She nodded and started to jog away. Now, who was here, and where were they?

“Hey shinigami, you look confused,”a voice catcalled behind him. Ichigo whipped around and looked up to see Grimmjow hanging in the air. He didn’t look like the past few times he’d seen him. He looked…unhinged. “But I just thought I’d drop by, ya see? I miss your pretty lil’ face,” he said with a grin. Shit. “But I ain’t here for talkin’ this time… I’m here to kick your ass Kurosaki, so why don’t you show me your Bankai so we can get on with it?” Ichigo tightened his grip on Zangetsu. He would take him down this time. He had to. This wasn’t a time to worry about a monster like Grimmjow.

“Ban-kai!” A whirl of red-lined black energy, and he was next to Grimmjow, slashing at his chest. He blocked it with his arm, and punched him with his free fist. The punch sent Ichigo flying. He flipped and used a building for leverage to jump back at him. He attacked, left, right, butterfly, reverse butterfly, downswing, thrust; all of it Grimmjow blocked with his arms while he laughed more and more loudly.

Panic began to rise in his chest, because he knew this wasn’t the Grimmjow that spoke him before. Something was terribly wrong. Then the Arrancar grabbed his blade between thumb and forefinger, and delivered Ichigo a vicious knee to the stomach. He was too stunned to ready himself for the next attack, an elbow to the spine that sent him crashing into the ground and crushed the concrete around his body. He stood, coughing to clear his throat of dust and blood. The Espada appeared in front of him and grabbed his hakama, and began punching him again and again until he felt senseless.

Grimmjow wiped a stream blood roughly from his mouth and ran it between his fingers, studying it. “What a pretty shade of red, bitch,” he said while he licked at his hand. This was the first version of Grimmjow, whatever that meant. “Smoldering metal and something foul, it tastes like,” he said with a grin. “Still warm, even when it’s drippin’ from that little body o’ yours instead a’ stayin’ in,” his grin widened. Maybe he was done, he let himself hope. Then his face twisted with hate.

“What kinda fight is this Kurosaki?! Weren’t you gonna kill me?!” He threw him against a building and spread his arms out, spider like, asking for a challenge. “Weren’t you gonna rip me to shreds with that Bankai of yours!?” Ichigo stepped out from the rubble around him; it was more of a stumble. He hadn’t become any stronger since their last fight, and his grimace showed he knew it. He still flashed stepped to his opponent, body close as Grimmjow still only used his arm to block him. He would cut. He would protect.

“Stop being such an arrogant bastard and DRAW YOUR SWORD!” He snarled in rage. “I won’t be treated like a GAME!” He rained blow after blow, strength fueled by rage. It was enough to finally leave marks on his arms. Grimmjow saw it and laughed.

“I don’t wanna mess up your face too bad, Shinigami. It’d just be unfair to draw my sword when you’re so weak,” he drawled before smashing his jaw with an uppercut. Ichigo let out a strangled cry as he was jolted up into the air and fell heavy like a bell cut from its strings.

He was a mess, but with the help of his sword he stood, muscles straining as he grimaced in pain and gasped for breath. Blood flowed from his hairline and dripped from his chin to the ground. His nose looked broken and his insides felt, for lack of a better word, mashed. But he wasn’t going to get any help, dammit. He’d stop this monster. He’d stop him alone. He would protect. His expression hardened, and he reached to wipe the blood away from his eye, to prepare for the next volley.

He paused when wiping the blood away didn’t clear the darkness of his vision. No, he thought, his eyes widening. Black tendrils were worming their way into his vision, creeping the same way as the horrible fingers of cold in his chest. He broke his stance to cover his eyes and step back.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” Grimmjow asked with a sneer. “We’re fightin’, bitch, quit cryin’!” His fingers arched and he wanted to rip the black from his eyes.

He wanted to speak that he only needed a second, but instead he just yelled. His voice was harsh and he could hear the discordant second tone of Shirosaki creeping in. Let me kill him Ichigo! Let me kill everything that you can’t, you worthless piece of shit! “NO!” He screamed and began scratching at his skin. He couldn’t stop him.

Even Grimmjow had stopped being so amused. He could feel Ichigo’s reiatsu pulse and flail wildly, and suspicion narrowed his eyes.

He couldn’t stop the Hollow inside him. He couldn’t stop Shirosaki this time. His dissonant laughter rang in his head, gloating, and soon he could hear the sound being ripped from his own throat. Shirosaki’s throat. A scream of glee and victory, and his hands were pulled away. There was part of the mask. His eyes black and yellow, mask forming from the air larger and larger. Hideously victorious laughter.

~

…Why did Ichigo have a Hollow mask?

“…Kurosaki?” The energy even felt like they did, like the Arrancar did. What the fuck was going on?

“Hey Arrancar,” the thing said playfully. Its voice disturbed him. Then it was in front of him, its sword thrust through his chest. He choked in surprise, and then he reached back and punched him in the face. His head turned, but he didn’t go flying like Ichigo would have. He just grinned and ripped the sword out. “Time to be ready, Espada! I ain’t too much a pussy to take my revenge!” He licked the edge of his mask. Grimmjow got the idea, and without wasting time fired a Cero into his face.

He wasn’t there.

“Think you can stop me, Jeagerjacques!?” Fanatical laughter at his back, and then the sound of his sword striking into the flesh of his back and sending him flying to meet the ground. How the fuck was he so strong?! Was this Kurosaki Ichigo!? Was this what he’d seen inside him, the thing desperate for death? Was he about to die at this abomination’s hands? He was pissed. He’d either failed him, or something was taking over what belonged to him. The rage that had made him want to kill his strawberry earlier returned, and he bared his teeth while lifting himself from the ground. But the thing wasn’t even paying attention to him. It was laughing, crying out in joy as it fired blasts of reiatsu into buildings, homes, and people stupid enough to investigate the noise in the area. He heard it screaming “die, die, die!”

Kurosaki fought for the hurt feelings of little ghost girls. His mind wouldn’t bear this use of his body well. The Arrancar felt his anger boil and grow. If Grimmjow… If he couldn’t save his soul now, he didn’t deserve him. He stood and drew his sword.

“C’mon Kurosaki, quit this fucked up show!” His black eyes strayed down to Grimmjow. The hollow mask on his face was growing. He cackled.

“So you’ll finally take this seriously?! YES! YES!” He screamed with wild laughter and his body moved like a whip, abhorrently elongated and dangerous. “GETSUGA TENSHOU!” He fired it right at him, and Grimmjow swore and ran as fast as he could from the blast. Dozens of buildings took the fall for him. He flashed to Ichigo’s side and clashed swords with him.

“I’ll kill you to stop this,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I’d love to see it,” he hissed back. Grimmjow growled and slashed again. Their swords clashed and sparked, and met each other blow for blow. He felt sick again, watching the body that fought him. It stretched and contorted in ugly ways that Ichigo’s never would. He didn’t want to release his Zanpaktou, but he had to break this stalemate.

No, not a stalemate, not really. The thing in Ichigo’s body was just having fun, and he didn’t know when it would decide to get serious. He built up his next swing enough to knock him to the earth and bring the fight to the ground. He was there in a flash, pressing his sword against Ichigo’s, hilt to hilt.

“Back out of it, crazy legs,” he growled. The thing just cackled and suddenly drew back its sword, leaving Grimmjow’s with no resistance on its path to his body. His sword sunk into his collarbone with a wet thunk. Blood blossomed on his clothes and dripped down. Why would he have let himself be hurt? His brow furrowed. Then Zangetsu bit deeply into his side with a splash of blood and showed him Hollow Ichigo’s strategy. “Fucker,” he muttered to himself.

They stared at each other, one relishing his bloodlust and the other thinking. The Espada settled on an idea, and moved more quickly than he ever had.

He bore down on the sword still in Ichigo’s shoulder and dropped down to kick and sweep his legs out from under him. He caught himself, but at the cost of his sword arm. Grimmjow grabbed it and wrenched it violently behind his back. If he wanted his sword, he’d get a compound fracture too, he thought with grim satisfaction. The thing howled and struggled against him, but... its other arm was grabbing at the Hollow mask.

It yelled in rage, fighting against his hold and trying to pry the mask from its face. Now he didn’t know what the fuck was going on for certain. The thing howled and shrieked, its voice varying from terrible and cacophonous to the anguished single tone of Kurosaki Ichigo.

“LET GO OF ME!” It commanded diabolically. Grimmjow just tightened his grip.

“Get outta Kurosaki’s body, you sick fuck, and maybe I’ll cut it out!” It shrieked bloody murder, and he twisted the arm until he heard a small crack. “Shut the fuck up and move on out, goddammit!” Then he got an uncomfortable surprise.

“JUST! KILL! ME!” It screamed in Ichigo’s voice. He was stunned enough to loosen his grip, and it only took a moment of inattention for his sword to fly. Grimmjow expected to see the black blade disappear into his chest, but the Hollow monster plunged the blade into its own stomach. He stared.

Ichigo.

It fired blasts of reiatsu anywhere, everywhere, howling in rage again as his hands pried and clawed at the mask, finally ripping it free from his face. He held it out. Then it dropped from his hand, and shattered at the first touch of the ground.

Blood still marked his face, smudged and sticky, covered in scratches from his own hands. His nose still turned at an odd angle and bruises decorated his cheeks. It was Ichigo’s face, contorted with pain.

He let the substitute Shinigami hit the ground. Wary of the creature that had ripped itself from Ichigo, wary of the thing that reminded him of himself. His eyebrows knit and he walked forward to the bloody body in front of him. Finally, he let go of his anger and pride, and gave into the nagging feeling at the back of his mind.

He pressed his hands underneath him, lifting him. He wrenched the sword from the boy’s stomach as he coughed blood, and then laid him on his back. He stared at his face. Desolation painted it, tears pricked his eyes …Didn’t he know this boy? Didn’t he know he loathed even to take the life of an enemy? He was holding a boy with a monster inside of him that thirsted for death.

“…Stop him…” Dying, and he feared for people that didn’t matter. What a stupid fucking martyr. What a beautiful boy.

“…I’ll stop him. From now on.” He gripped him tightly.

“What…?”

“I won’t let him hurt you. No one will hurt you,” he growled. He remembered the dream. The cries of the little boy he hadn’t been able to save. He remembered real life, when he had savored those pleas. How wrong he’d been.

“…You…don’t understand… dead…they’re dead…I killed them!” His fists pounded weakly at the solid body above him. “I killed them!” His eyes were wide in terror.

“You won’t become me. You won’t,” he said with a snarl. He wouldn’t let the hurt inside of him fester. No one would hurt his boy.

“I…Killed them you dumb bastard! Innocent people!” He gripped Grimmjow’s jacket like it was all he had left. “I’m you! I’m a monster!”

“No. You don’t hate the whole goddamn world, kid.” Those brandy eyes wanted to fight what he said. But the halting breaths of the body they belonged to weakened their gaze, and he closed his eyes as hot tears leaked from their corners.

“Stupid…” He muttered weakly. Grimmjow grinned faintly. Then he looked around him suspiciously, suddenly wearing his usual disgusted expression. Then he looked down at the wounded teen below him, his delicate tortured body and beautiful anguished face. He closed his eyes and thought; he was the one who’d done this. His fingers arched and barely rested upon his cheek. He stared a moment longer and thought he felt, deep in his chest, an ache in his heart.

Then, more gently than the Espada had ever done anything, he leaned down and kissed Kurosaki Ichigo on the forehead; he murmured that everything would be all right.




~AN~

Hey there. This chapter took me a long time to write! To be honest, it was a bitch. I've had this idea planned out since several chapters ago and had been waiting to write it out, then I got here and was like "...well, shit." The first draft was kind of awful. I went through and edited it, edited some more, cut out and rewrote two large chunks and gave it one last go over and now I think I'm satisfied. If you think it sucks, let me know so I can rewrite it again.

The hardest part was probably fleshing out the mental conflict between the two in the middle of a battle. I didn't want to just pay the fight scene lip service, even though my focus was elsewhere. Hopefully this chapter gave more insight into Grimmjow and made up for his recent abscence. Apologies for Little Ichigo in the beginning of the chapter. I thought that Grimm's subconscious would pull something awful like that on him.

I also edited the previous chapter to make Rukia less of a bitch-- I didn't want her to be bitchy, I just wanted to illustrate that usually Ichigo and Rukia's relationship is usually kind of contentious in its love.

Read, enjoy, critique, review, byebye!