Jericho's Wrath

In sooth, I know not why I am so sad.

It wearies me, you say it wearies you,

But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,

What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,

I am to learn.

Antonio - The Merchant of Venice

It was cold. . . .

It was vast. . . .

It was the eerie press of hands constricting his windpipe that allowed Ichigo to falter, collapsing on the path to discover citrine eyes watching his every move in this unfathomable darkness.

Then a smile. Wicked as a packet of knives.

Ichigo blinked.

He'd fallen, noticing his legs tucked behind himself. He prodded a deadened limb guiltily, and hoped it might reanimate with the jabs of a rigid finger.

. . . How had he fallen again? Ichigo felt sluggish and clueless, head turning side to side like he'd woken from a nap.

He touched the column of his throat.

Phantom pain. The sensation of being choked. Creepy.

Grimmjow, irritable by his sneer and agitated as a madman, gave bouts of disgust, having near-gone in circles around himself as he tried to figure out how much further Barragan's festering court was. He hadn't noticed Ichigo fall.

From his low vantage point, chin now touching the path and basking like a delighted sea lion, even if this corrosive chill grew unbearable against his exposed skin, when he shut his eyes Ichigo could almost get a sense of the drift, the way the land was adapting to a new liege.

The isolated sea felt moody, and temperamental. Like a child stamping their foot while waiting for candy. It rocked and splashed with the pull of the moon, however it hardly felt necessary to even do so. Like a ruse.

Ichigo had tasted the power of it on his tongue, his lips. Now it only tasted like neglect and bitter want. For something.

And safety didn't exactly seem like a priority out here in the open. Hollows had killed one another trying to get to Barragan's temple. Made sense why Grimmjow so near desperate wanted and spurred to get Ichigo all the way out here – the ultimate sacrifice.

The color of the storm surrounding Via Dolorosa was dark and foggy. Everything in the distance hazy as the memory of a dream upon waking.

Not darkness in full like Ichigo imagined; a grayness, like chalk powder. Grayness, like spellwork, the remnants of a hex.

Like the moments before something ugly was about to happen.

"Shit," Grimmjow cursed. Understanding something about the area that Ichigo didn't.

There was a wavering breath from the Sexta.

Nervousness. Anticipation.

Ichigo was hungry for it.

Run.

He remained utterly still from his diminished position, more like a part of Via Dolorosa, almost blending in, watching Grimmjow intently as if he were the predator stalking its prey and already having its throat between his jaws. And, oh, how that blood might look stained on this road. Another unfortunate soul to lose in the middle of nowhere, these badlands to Hell.

Ichigo saw carnage everywhere. Saw Grimmjow saunter through ruby puddles without knowing. Watched Grimmjow sidestep the carcass of something big floating among the waves, a gnarled hand continuing to hold onto a dip in Via Dolorosa's road though rotted amongst others in this mass watery grave. Necks twisted. Skulls smashed. Stomachs hacked. Legs bitten. Holes bleeding.

Run.

Ichigo blinked.

"Zangetsu, what's happening?" he asked aloud in a sluggish way, hoping one of them might haunt his mind with an epiphany. Ichigo clutched a handful of pinkish holyland and squeezed until it oozed between his fingers, red bone and knuckle-white cartilage appearing as it spilled through the gaps.

Ah. The sacrificial blood of Hollows, he remembered loosely.

Run!

Were they going crazy? Maybe he should just get up. Though that incessant pain across his trachea made it difficult to want to do anything. Let alone continue on this fucking quest to find a droll ex-Espada.

Ichigo watched the spiteful figure before him, again, turning around himself as if in a horror movie, hand held tight to his hilt, not knowing which direction the monster would strike. He wasn't looking for a temple any longer. Grimmjow looked around himself with a case of paranoia.

Ichigo grit his teeth, more bloody gum-pink sand squeezing through each digit as he watched Grimmjow in frustration.

The bastard still, still, wouldn't let on to whatever he was hiding, what he was really actually truly doing by trailblazing on this obnoxious quest with Ichigo. Not an ounce not an inch. Bits and pieces here and there maybe Ichigo could say, fragments of well-wishes. Ichigo wished Grimmjow would just fucking say what the FUCK was going on!

A hand impulsively grabbed Zangetsu's hilt, Ichigo snarling in his furor and distrust of the Sexta as he purposefully rose, shortsword etching a deep mark in the road.

And he didn't give a damn if Grimmjow was at his side any longer. What fucking use was he at this point? He was blind! Bloody! Bruised. Fickle, desperate, disruptive, sinfully painfully aware that this land is not meant for us included the hackles-raised, stress-raked hair, careful heel-toe placement of his one and only formerly capable partner.

In the air, below the ground . . .

This was a long time coming. Grimmjow wanted that last battle with Ichigo? Hah!

"Why wait any longer?"

Ichigo blinked.

Firm hands covered Ichigo's shoulders, a dripping weight needless in its reason to press him down so low.

ICHIGO! GET OUT OF THERE!

He will come from all a-round . . .

There was a shaky inhale, a stillness fluttering within his chest. Zangetsu was shouting. Ichigo could finally hear it now.

Telling him to run.

Brown eyes launched to Grimmjow, caught in that same dance of uncertainty. Ichigo wanted to shout, tried to tell him to get away, except only words of silence came from his mouth.

Grimmjow slowed until he no longer moved. Nothing than a broken wind-up doll.

"Yes, that's right, Ichigo. Broken. You know exactly what he feels." Yhwach breathed close, so close against the shell of his ear that Ichigo's heart stuttered. "He's nervous. He's afraid that this isn't going to work out for you both. He's trying to come up with a new idea, a new plan that will help you infiltrate my castle and come defeat me." A little laughter, and Ichigo's heart squeezed a beat. Choked the windpipe a little more.

Ichigo saw the influence Yhwach wrought upon the disgraced arrancar, envisioning Grimmjow's fitful soul squeezed beneath His fingers until they snuffed the Sexta completely.

A sleek, contorted puppet formed of his resurrección, blue hair wild in his torment; halos of butterscotch filling his irises until they wept, crown of bone crumbling with the delicacy of fine clay.

Then Grimmjow was gone.

Ichigo's cheeks grew wet for the second time on this journey, Yhwach compelling his emotions to betray him.

Ichigo blinked the hot tears away, the vision having, mercifully, passed, and Grimmjow gave the slightest glance over his shoulder. Blind as he was, he held Ichigo's gaze long enough to know something about his rival was wrong.

"Oh, pitiful creature," Yhwach hummed in a gentle tone. Ichigo didn't know if Yhwach meant Grimmjow or himself. "I wonder . . . what might he do if you stabbed him in the back? Quite literally," He emphasized, insisted with uncomfortable elation. "He cannot feel your presence. He cannot sense your elusive speed. He might even like it from behind." Again, Yhwach laughed, a sound not unlike rusted chains nestled in the gallows. "Who knows? Hollows sicken me with their aggressive fetishes."

Ichigo's armor plating crunched under His grip, driving pressure to shoot down his erect spine. Ichigo flinched at the pain yet willed himself to remain steadfast, sturdy. Hard as He tried, Yhwach wasn't able to break him.

Yet.

Fingers tickled Ichigo's scalp, running through his fiery locks with a pacifying motion. A near tenderness. Soothing Ichigo. Like a weary, pathetic thing. It had the sting of a fresh sunburn.

A million whispers were chanting, overlapping and unbearable as Ichigo was forced to listen. "Do him a favor and end his life, my son. Hm? One who appreciates you the most and will do everything in my power to bring you back to me.

"Safe."

"Full of regrets."

"Belly full and ready for slaughter."

"Kill him."

"No," Ichigo managed to deny, turning his head to the idea.

Ichigo's short sword raised without his command, unnerved by the action and stared fearfully at the poised arm. Blue rivulets played hopscotch up his wrist and beyond his sleeve, causing severe numbing and made loss of control easy. The blade pointed flat, then tipped enough so it would sluice beneath Grimmjow's shoulder blade and pierce his heart easily. "No!"

"DO IT!"

"Grimmjow, run!"

"What?!" Grimmjow snapped a look back and disappeared from Ichigo's senses.

Ichigo was going to explode. The blut zipping up and down his arms was fire in his veins. He grit his teeth and shouted, unable to drop Zangetsu.

Laughter. So much laughter taunted Ichigo. All around and nowhere equally. "Do you truly believe your body and soul have become stronger due to your time in the Soul palace?" Hands clasped around his throat. The song reached its final chorus. "You are mine, Ichigo."

Ichigo forced his power outward like a bomb.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Golden eyes. Always golden eyes. They blinked at me from afar, in the sea. Hovering. Like candlelight. A lighthouse winking in the distance. For some reason I thought of my mother. Mom had amber eyes. Well. Okay, they were honestly brown, but lighter than mine, warmth equal to the heat of the sun. Now I could understand why Dad likened her to such an immeasurable power. Mom was the sun. And I think the sun's rays were all that protected me from being burned from the inside out.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Grimmjow didn't feel confident.

There was a shiver up Grimmjow's spine, the Sexta making an uncomfortable sound. Grimmjow shook like a wet dog, cold sweat tingling along his skin. An unfamiliar sensation. It felt heady as an oncoming sickness, of bile, the unsettling feeling causing him to virtually gag. Objectively, Grimmjow knew the way he felt ultimately had to do with Kurosaki. It was the way he vibrated. The push and pull of a magnet. Grimmjow would never not be attracted to Kurosaki in that way.

The hiss of sand below his studded heels slowed. It was that realization which made Grimmjow pause. He didn't need to see the guy behind him to know something was way off.

Honestly? He couldn't see Kurosaki when he turned his head. The tousled blur of orange hair remained the same, though all those stars within the twilight had draped over Ichigo like a sequined cape. An aura which made the scar bisecting Grimmjow's chest itchy and uncomfortable.

In the air, below the ground,

He will come from all a-round.

Kurosaki's voice shattered the stillness. "Grimmjow, run!"

"What?!"

Grimmjow never saw it coming. Literally.

First was the rush of being thrown forward onto Via Dolorosa. Grimmjow's face scraped along the minerals of its ragged path far enough a facial scar was bound to be present. Why need his jawbone at all now when his face likely peeled away to reveal his own teeth behind the flesh?

The smoldering heat of Kurosaki's reiatsu eclipsed him, rushing over and beyond Grimmjow with such anger, such fear, Grimmjow suspected he actually might die if Kurosaki didn't reel it in. At least the Candyman made his jumpsuit fireproof.

The way it ended came nearly as quick, Grimmjow picking up static sounds of churning sand instead of the terrible roar of hot wind.

Kurosaki was on his knees. Head bowed, the short sword was held delicately by half curled fingers. Flares of orange hid his eyes, though Kurosaki watched his weapon with fascination, as if the dusted blade would sprout lips and begin talking. There was a strain in the way his body was coiled over it, as if Kurosaki damn well needed assistance heaving himself upright. Or he'd become so weak protecting the blade was all that mattered.

Grimmjow clicked his tongue.

Ichigo got booted square in the chest, slamming into the road with a scared grunt.

"What the fuck was all that about?!" Grimmjow roared, Pantera gripped so tight his knuckles blanched. Grimmjow's foot pressed ruthlessly, the teen wincing as his sternum creaked.

It'd hurt to rise. It hurt to move. It was one of few times he'd wished to be laying in that cot Urahara supplied while he and Nelliel waited to step into the fray. Grimmjow knew the wound oozed dangerously. And it ached worse than a suckerpunch. He did his best to remain unfazed to it when it was extremely likely he'd slip over from blood loss.

His voice remained demanding, even as lips grew tacky and copper coated. "Well?"

"Grimmjow," Ichigo breathed, saying his name soft as a plea.

The hands trying to asphyxiate him were finally off his neck.

Unfortunately, Ichigo wasn't able to savor this bit of reprieve with Grimmjow blatantly crushing his lungs.

Yhwach's presence evaporated. For now. Ichigo wanted that to be all that mattered in this moment. There was a target on his back, yes, except the target on his partner's back was larger than before. It wasn't enough to drag humanity from Grimmjow. Nel. Yhwach made it clear they were running out of time. That they were all His.

And Ichigo wasn't sure he'd be able to protect Grimmjow when the time came.

What a mockery of a savior.

Ichigo shoved Grimmjow's foot off with a defiant scowl and sat up. It wasn't over yet.

He opened his mouth and paused abruptly, abandoning the weak excuse he'd give Grimmjow to appease him.

Ichigo's attention was grabbed, split between the space of Grimmjow's shoulder and where the curl of hair edged against his neck. It was minimal, the movement, a low hanging mist causing Ichigo to abstain from talking. His expression contorted into something confused, then horror ascended as he went very, very still.

Two fat bumblebees were flitting over the agitated sand, moving in alignment with one another. Small, bright, darting quickly.

No. No. Impossible. Not here.

Look harder.

Something waded beyond Via Dolorosa.

It appeared discolored. Not all there. A bit more wavy to Ichigo's squinting eyes at that distance. Pockmarked. Almost easily going unnoticed as a huddling barrier rock.

The two bees transformed into skinny earwigs and vanished, dropping into the sand with terrifyingly quick movement.

Ichigo took a sharp inhale, hair on the back of his neck upright. "We have to move," he rushed out while struggling to get his feet under him. Grimmjow gave an irritated comment, and Ichigo again dropped to the sand, unable to feel his legs. Ichigo's eyes bugged when he realized he couldn't move them. The wound on his ankle drained into the sand like an open faucet.

An explosion blew out his eardrum from the left. Grimmjow jumped, swinging his sword.

It grew from the waves like a god yanked sunken treasure from the pit of the ocean. It was wet, dripping and slippery as an octopus; it was heavy, one paw shaking the earth beneath immeasurable weight as it climbed above the surface. An impossibly large mouth was stuck in a wide hiss of excitement, teeth clacking together and licked jaundiced molars possibly broken on the bones of dead Hollows. A grand hole was centered in its muscular chest.

Its ribs illuminated, an iron ore beat, setting pale flesh afire with calico patches as the being's breath hitched.

And it saw them. Flicker-flutter eyes catching their bating bodies stunned and hapless to the monster before them.

Its song was the prickly high notes of a violin, plucked and picked with precision. High-pitched and skirting rapidly over the strings. A terrible melody consumed the wind, waves crashing against their walkway with incredible plinks.

Palms slapped over his ears. Ichigo couldn't listen to the whine of its arrival without cringing. Ichigo's naturally warm-toned skin grew flush and clammy, cold sweat rushing over him. Ichigo grew nauseous and shrank into himself. Fingers dug into his scalp – Grimmjow clamoring about in the background – shouts increasing while Ichigo swiftly became a sinking ship.

A look of fearful awareness on Grimmjow's blind face made him cross Pantera in front of himself in self-defense, as if the empty sword might actually do something to protect either of them.

Kurosaki was in the fetal position on his left, painfully useless in this moment.

The monstrosity howled a baleful noise.

There was hesitance, a fang nipping his lower lip.

Pantera dropped as quickly as it'd come up.

Grimmjow raised his opposite hand in a clawed position, fingertips streaking blue-on-black as he shouted, "Bala!"

An electric charge recoiled out of his palm and punched right in the center of the creature's pancake face, a shrill cry signaling its disorientation. He grabbed Ichigo's shihakusho and jerked him upright, the teen reversing the grab when a rounded paw slammed down where Grimmjow was about to step.

Sand shot up around them, and with ample cover to flee, Ichigo used shun-po, Grimmjow at his side. They clung to one another amidst their confusion, Grimmjow quickly detaching himself when they were far enough away. Once he realized he'd been holding onto his rival for dear life.

Grimmjow's spare hand was curled against his chest, Ichigo smelling the charred flesh.

A dismal wail reverberated in the distance.

Ichigo felt the swelling pace of a migraine. Grimmjow swayed, opposite hand slick as it came away from the profusely bleeding face wound. With bubbling nervousness, Ichigo spoke in a pinched voice, "What the hell is that! I've never seen a Hollow so big!"

Grimmjow was mumbling lowly under his breath, completely spooked. "It's true." Then something about how nothing was going to plan. How they were on "fucking Jericho's route."

Ichigo couldn't comment on that.

Alabaster hands launched out of the road, grabbing onto their legs. Both he and Grimmjow shouted in unexpected fright.

Mummified faces warped the sand around them as they quickly bred from the path, gauzy fabric clung to wailing mouths. Ichigo felt a hellish pull, sinking them into Via Dolorosa, going further deaf as they screeched in a language he couldn't understand; Their vocalization similar to the raptors in Jurassic Park.

A leg tucked back as he struggled to stay above ground. "Aah! What are they saying?!"

Trilling, twitching wraiths – no way they were Hollows – began climbing up Ichigo's calves, lengthy chipped nails clenching the muscles for a better grip. One smeared its facial wrappings against the leftover blood on Ichigo's ankle, lustfully treating itself to the fresh wound.

Ichigo smashed the side of his fist against its bony skull. It collapsed into chalky dust when it detached, losing its head in the process.

"Rah!" Grimmjow struck one and destroyed it's form. Though he too continued to teeter and sink into the road. "I'm not sure. Ain't Spanish, that's for sure! Get OFF!" There was another kick and the wraith shouted, hitting his mark once again.

But those same ugly nails clenched the toe of his boot, grip exceptional as another used the momentum to swiftly scramble up his leg onto his body. They had no lower half, all rotting upper torso. With no time to react, the ghost braced itself against Grimmjow's shoulders and screamed into his face, a cursed message while a cero gained strength over its covered mouth.

Ichigo cleaved its head, using Zangetsu like a platter to toss the creature far off.

The cero destructed mid-air, light exploding with muggish red heat in the black sky.

Grimmjow inhaled a sharp breath, a foreign look of Thanks in his eyes.

"What the fuck," Ichigo exclaimed. He tracked their assailants with deft footwork, circling himself as he watched for other graceless shapes, moving about like ruddy imps. "These the Hollows cast back out onto the path?"

Grimmjow appeared just as bad as Ichigo felt, looking two seconds away from passing out. "I don't know," Grimmjow answered tentatively, stockstill and Pantera hanging limp in his hand. Like he'd lost all preservation to protect himself. Or Ichigo for that matter.

Ichigo bumped elbows with Grimmjow, prepared to square off with the wispy demons.

Consume.

Devour.

That frantic knowing corralled Ichigo acutely. He also used the notion to steal a bit of Grimmjow's personality when it came to survival.

Having enough of this, a magnitude 10 headache erupting behind his eyes, with vengeful movement Ichigo ducked and wedged Zangetsu's shorter blade into Via Dolorosa. Glowering eyes engulfed in blue, a brutal flare of reiatsu vaporized the wraiths. There wasn't even a scream.

Steam encompassed the pitted area around them, burned by the angrily flickering embers of Ichigo's soul. They'd ceased sinking.

A little jerk of blue quivered on his forearm, pulsing along with his heartbeat. Ichigo panted slightly, free palm slapping against the vibration.

Ichigo pushed his pounding head against Zangetsu's cool hilt, hoping for a brief lull in the action. He knew Grimmjow was watching him, knew he likely sensed the unusual tension in Ichigo's behavior, though Ichigo refused to acknowledge the trickiness of using blut. He figured, if the monsters were Hollows, they might despise a one-two punch of Reaper and Quincy.

Echoey and distant, Yhwach's laughter prodded his thoughts.

Ichigo snarled.

He wouldn't succumb to that bastard. He wouldn't.

There was a boom, and with a startled turn, Ichigo saw the gigantic Hollow leap out of the sand like a dolphin catching waves. Clearly having no trouble swimming beneath the dunes.

Long black claws meant for burrowing were double the length of yard sticks. Ferrying sand out of its way as it got nearer, it used that momentum to throw heavy surf at Grimmjow and Ichigo like a weapon.

It was Grimmjow who snatched Ichigo's wrist and dragged him along before the aggressive current hit. "MOVE, Ichigo!"

It was rare for Ichigo to feel out of control.

Grimmjow shouting in his face felt like a pure hallucination with the way Ichigo's mind spun . . .

Time slows down. Ichigo notices all the little nuances in these moments . . .

The hand pulling him isn't coarse and callused with the hardship of an expert swordsman. The hand pulling him is controlled, purposeful, but careful. Gentle, if he wanted to get extreme.

With each footstep reality swivels further away, Ichigo squeezing his eyes shut to reduce the pain. All that kept Ichigo moving forward was the tug of a sure hand, and the entrancing stare Grimmjow gave each time he looked back, flourishing marigolds in fading sunlight.

Ichigo is aware yet unconscious to the idea a host spurs the ravaged man on, risking Ichigo to stay alive by calling out his name.

All of it calls to him. Too loud, too fast. Ichigo mentally checks out when the wailing crescendos.

The wrath of the unknown; the abysmal, desperate land.

The inner voices meant to remain in balance. Zangetsu fights desperately, loudly, to escape the confines of Ichigo's mind.

To protect Ichigo before it ends.

And Via Dolorosa ends abruptly.

" . . . Kurosaki." His name was stressed. There's a little shake of his body, to rouse him, a similar way Keigo might when he begged Ichigo to see his side of things. "Kurosaki," Grimmjow repeats again, softer this time. "Wake up. I think. I think it wants . . . you."

Ichigo hadn't been afraid of a Hollow in years. Rukia made sure that'd never happen again.

Head rising from the slumber of his coma, Ichigo found it loomed closeby.

It peeked from where it wallowed in the waves, head half submerged like a hippo's. Those bees had become untamed, wilder with the edgy moment of hornets. It'd waited for Ichigo to wake, and its patience finally waned.

From the pale sea, it got bigger and bigger. Shoulders curving. Knees cracking. Maw watering. Muscles flexing as it forced immense bulk out of the dunes. Small nostrils wrinkled and granules dislodged from the slitted holes, raining down a disgusting amount of clotted particles.

It looked nothing like the Hollows Ichigo used to slam on the daily, no. This creature was a displaced version of those forgotten souls.

It was alien, unnatural, of a different time and era.

And unlike anything Ichigo experienced in the past.

Ichigo could not sense it at all. With violent ghosts, their energy shifted and mingled with living souls in a chaotic ritual. Ghosts were a presence. That's the way it was in the living world.

Here? This correlation shouldn't exist. It wasn't meant to exist.

This thing, this . . . horror, was blank.

It was a blank.

And as it eagerly fixed Ichigo with buzzing, bright eyes too high upon its rounded head, it took a hearty inhale, sniffing hungrily as a lion would a fresh kill.

Ichigo hadn't been afraid of a Hollow in years . . . though every cell whimpered he would die if he attempted to fight it, tried to sway it to an early grave. His heart pounded, a war drum out of fear for his life.

It peered down at them, at Ichigo, and he knew it was looking right into him.

Ichigo took a cautious, careful step back in case it lunged. He knocked into Grimmjow's chest with a start.

"Keep still," he warned on a fearful breath. Grimmjow's rasp was close to his ear, breath hot in the suddenly cooling temperature. "It won't tolerate if you keep squirming."

The monolith sank its head to be at their level. An eerie rumble diffused within its throat when it moved, no longer a song for prey. Its knell was of a curious sort. Grimmjow clutched Ichigo against himself, using him like a meatshield.

Eyes of tourmaline were wondery as it waited for the pair to do something. It turned its wide face to get its glassy gaze fully on Ichigo, his paralyzed image reflected in that unsettling pupil. It blinked, a second eyelid sliding over the first to remove terracotta crust from the fitful orb.

"The blood of an ancient."

Its rancor was the rumble of thunder, though alarmingly hushed as a whisper.

"Blood of an ancient. Figures," Grimmjow groused.

The chill of that rushed Ichigo. "Wh-what does that mean?"

It glanced at Grimmjow. "Jewel of the trinity."

Ichigo felt Grimmjow huff against his back, rankled by the accusation. His partner indicated, "What do you think it means, Kurosaki? It smells lineage in your blood."

An anxious wheeze made its way out of Ichigo's chest. "Great."

A charred hand tangled into Ichigo's sleeve. Grimmjow, in a strange voice, unnatural in its musicality, leaned over Ichigo's shoulder closely to say, "I have an idea. Show it your mask."

A faded cry came from within. Don't do it!

Words hushed, yet now excitable, Grimmjow remarked, "It's waiting to find out if you're a threat or not."

Ichigo turned his head and snapped, "How can you know?"

An odd twinkle flashed in his misty gaze. Grimmjow offered seriously, "I just know. It will kill me if I piss it off. It wants to know you because it can feel that ridiculous strength you have."

Ichigo!

Ichigo swallowed, unsure what to do. "Will it try to kill me regardless?"

Their eyes met at the question.

Grimmjow said truthfully, "I don't know."

Great.

Ichigo hadn't donned his mask in a long time. The idea made him question what he was doing – would it even matter to this lumbering monstrosity?

Or tempt it worse to swallow Ichigo whole . . .

Ichigo stared into its enormous eye. His lips were taut as he failed to keep his body and soul from cringing as the monster again drew close. It breathed on his face, and seemed to savor inhaling Ichigo's fiery scent.

"We need an exchange . . ." Grimmjow tried to encourage, intoning it being the best chance for survival.

And somehow, swiftly, agreeably, Ichigo was convinced.

He let his reiatsu slide around him, a devious pronged mask spiraling over weary features. Zangetsu's defeated moan curled around the edge of his consciousness.

When it solidified, Grimmjow stepped back so the monster would get a good look at him. And only him.

Out from its jaw a split tongue fell and whistled its excitement; long, ugly, and pale as Grand Fisher's lure.

Ichigo, constricted by stress while he gazed into the creature's rounded orb, forced himself to shut his eyes. Forced himself to sink into sensation . . .

Emptiness.

Hollow.

Blank

Both muscles wrapped around Ichigo and squeezed, constricting his body with warmth and wetness. Tight, tight around his ribcage. Crushing his heart to rupture the organ. Ichigo made a choked sound despite his effort to keep silent. It touched slowly, seeking out the different shapes and planes of his figure, as if it were a lover trying to understand him better.

Ichigo wanted to hurl.

Emptiness.

Hollow.

Blank

Empty . . . because it's meant to be that way.

Zangetsu, Ichigo desperately called out to his spirit. What does it want?

To swallow you whole . . .

Grimmjow's irises were swallowed by gold. Sight for a rapacious being gradually consuming the last flickering elements of a weakened soul.

Grimmjow was blind to all that surrounded him, though the "jewel" concealed beneath scarred flesh used the disability as an advantage. Chose to staunch his wounds for her own benefit.

All so she could watch her champion carefully.

And wondering.

Wondering if this courier for old Jericho, for El rey Pálido, might do as entrusted and devour any soul unable to dethrone the King on his irreparable crusade . . .

The heavy creature's tongue rolled back into its mouth with a smak, Ichigo giving a revolted gasp when it released him. He was soaked, saliva dripping from jostled armor plating.

Its eye remained fixated on Ichigo all while it backed into the sea. There was a mild whimper of hunger, though it gradually plunged into the sand, disappearing beneath steadying dunes.

The mask fell, exposing furrowed brows. "What . . . was that?!"

"Ikomikidomoe. One of the oldest beings that hasn't gone extinct in Hueco Mundo yet." There was a sense of awe to those words. Of nuance. "The guardian won't let anyone near Golgotha unless it deems them worthy. I thought it was a legend," Grimmjow explained on a shaky breath. Then he was all teeth. "If it's hanging around, Barragan must be there." The steel in his voice was exact, thrilled that their journey might finally end.

When Grimmjow turned to look at Kurosaki, that smile fell disastrously fast.

Fingers twitched at his sides, unashamedly itching to grip something. Kurosaki physically appeared the same – his eyes remained dark and troubled on his partner.

"Why haven't your eyes changed back?" Grimmjow demanded.

Kurosaki blinked. Offended to be addressed in such a way. "Why haven't yours?"

The words which came from his mouth were his own – it was the inflection which caught Grimmjow off guard. And the allegation. "What?"

Kurosaki's hand was placed on his hip. On the short sword. "Ya'know, feel free to mention next time a wandering sand creature decides to pay a visit, that it's also a potential god killer."

There was a bit of a laugh, Ichigo's eyes lighting up in delight as Zangetsu continued. "Oh, it did not like you. Tsk, tsk. Wonder why." Kurosaki's face twisted into an uncomfortable smile. "If it hadn't been so . . . ecstatic to meet Ichigo," he described with a turn of the wrist, "I do believe it would have broken your precious. Feeble. Bones." There was another lilting chuckle.

The reiatsu which dripped off him wouldn't allow Grimmjow movement, his body tensing with the realization: he was now Kurosaki's prey.

"What the hell. You aren't Kurosaki!"

"Ding ding! Smart arrancar. Or whatever it is you are," Zangetsu hissed. "Unfortunately you're wrong. We're one in the same."

Grimmjow grit his teeth against the authority Zangetsu commanded, and Zangetsu ate it up. The hollow near-danced his way over to Grimmjow, trying to scare him with quick movements and unwavering leer.

Kurosaki's fingers splayed on his open chest, letting Grimmjow acknowledge what danger he now played with.

There was a lively, sharp smirk, sulfur irises bright. "I can feel your heartbeat. How cute." And he sighed. "Ichigo is a fool to believe you're an ally. Thankfully I understand a Hollow's intentions better."

Haunting eyes glanced at the arm he'd once lost, and with a shrieking laugh Zangetsu twisted Kurosaki's body – Grimmjow's clavicle broke from a heavy backfist. With an outcry Grimmjow felt his shoulder dislocate, clutching both deadened limb and broken bone.

Zangetsu took Ichigo's free hand and gripped Grimmjow's face with it, forcing the Sexta to his knees. Teeth flashed, and the scornful energy which flowed off Grimmjow was immediately bested by Zangetsu's own savagery.

"Weak," he spat.

Zangetsu brought Grimmjow's face closer, speaking to both the blind sonofabitch and the thing inside him. "I won't allow you to harm Ichigo. Whatever it is you're planning, Ikomikidomoe allowed us into Golgotha because of Ichigo's potential." Zangetsu paused, and in a flurry of emotion screamed at Grimmjow, "You need to realize that even at your best, Ichigo was always better!"

Grimmjow huffed audibly when Zangetsu smothered him in spiritual pressure, enjoying the sound of his humility by the pleased look on Kurosaki's face. "Okay. Business meeting's over." In monotone he addressed Ichigo, "You can come back out now, King."

Inky veins retreated from his vision, and Ichigo blinked several times until he fully took in the man crippled before him.

A ragged laugh came. "Never thought my rival would have a sadistic fuck hiding up his sleeve," Grimmjow complained, lips twisting into a vicious smile.

"More like on my back," Ichigo noted, jabbing a thumb at his broadsword. He folded his arms. "Zangetsu is a little more forward than I am."

Grimmjow snorted.

Ichigo narrowed his eyes. "Would you rather have fidelity in yourself, or a capable partner?"

"I'm alone, fool."

Ichigo's mouth twitched in minor annoyance. A hand came up and scratched his ginger locks as he thought, eyes shifting out into the sea. Chancing a look even if his nerves were on fire. A glob of saliva clung to his fingers when they came away, Ichigo making a face of revulsion.

"That pal of yours can really whale," Grimmjow drawled, grimacing while he tried to breathe evenly. "Unless you wanna go alone or wish the gods would drop the princess here, you're gonna need to reset my arm."

Ichigo frowned at each idea Grimmjow suggested. "I honestly think he needs to do that for me." And within that same sentence his features sloped into an unimpressed scowl, eyes shifting over. His hollow was immediately aggravated to be called out for such a task.

"Lousy that you can't do it on your own," Zangetsu answered bitterly.

Zangetsu came forward and braced Grimmjow's shoulder, snatching up his limp wrist. "I know how much you want to hear him scream!"

Grimmjow's shout was sharp, bone-on-bone popping back into place. He curled into the pain while it lasted, waiting for it to fade. He would have to deal with his broken clavicle.

Zangetsu scoffed. "Please. Ichigo has suffered worse than you."

He snapped his fingers in front of his face, searching the pockmarked sky as he spoke with his wielder. "Am I done here? It's watching me," Zangetsu fired off louder than Grimmjow expected he'd speak, even if he was Kurosaki's warmonger.

The hollow went quiet, listening to unheard dialogue.

"No. I can't exactly tell where that Golgotha place is. That Nosferatu fish-faced motherfucker is canceling out my ability to sense anything other than him!"

"It's that way," Grimmjow said, pointing pathetically with his sore arm.

A snarl of distrust came from Ichigo's lips.

"I'm not lying, Kurosaki. Barragan's temple feels like a beacon to me now."

"Then why can't we feel it?!" Zangetsu hollered with unrelenting frustration.

Grimmjow suggested plainly, "You're not from Hueco Mundo."

"Rah!"

" . . . I think I get it now," was the absurd sentence that came from grit teeth and solemn features. Grimmjow looked straight at Kurosaki, the bright flame of his hair the only indication Grimmjow had. "We're in a land of lawlessness. Madness. The Hollows never made it to Golgotha. I doubt the adjuchas did either. I think nearly all of them were killed and eaten by Ikomikidomoe."

There was a nod, a solid movement of understanding. "The sound we've been hearing is a residual song for prey," Kurosaki stated in a thready cadence. Grimmjow wasn't sure if that was the teen or the hollow.

Kurosaki stooped and cradled some of Via Dolorosa's sand. He let it slip through his fingers, speaking in a dreamy voice as it drifted on a fragment of wind. "It sinks its sound into the waves and distorts this hidden world. The sea moves because its noise is what drives it. An endless hum. And we believe the Hollows died because they were trying to run away from it." A vindictive glare was on Kurosaki's face, polished obsidian eyes remembering Grimmjow was their wayward shephard. "Pity," he said more to himself.

Grimmjow attempted to stand, tremendously slow on tired feet. The scorch marks on his left hand had turned rosy, and the gouge on his face had significantly calmed its steady bleeding. Though it did little to soothe Grimmjow. His left arm may as well have been chopped off again by the aches plaguing him.

Kurosaki's gaze was unsympathetic, I will cut you clearly alluded in his cursed eyes.

Though those icons of wicked intent shifted toward the unseen threat watching, the hollow possibly going batty from not only hearing Kurosaki in his head, but that of Ikomikidomoe.

Grimmjow turned his sightless gaze out to the sea. "What's it saying to you?"

"It wants blood. Not ours. Yhwach's. The blood of an ancient. It wants to eat Ichigo for all his power. But Quincy blood is vile to fish-face and the monstrosity knows that. Bastard might've shied off for now, it's gonna bide its time. Sit and wait to see what Barragan decides to do with us."

Zangetsu stopped, middle and index fingers tapping on his sword hilt nervously, zoning out. "I agree. The pathetic thing is suicidal."

There was a tilt to Grimmjow's head. "Why does it not like you?"

Zangetsu growled under his breath. "I am a hybrid. Hollow and shinigami. It wants everything this child is."

That gave Grimmjow a wild thought.

In an all too sober voice, outrageously, Grimmjow muttered, "And you're out here protecting your child of fortune even if that thing freaks you out."

All at once the broadsword's tip pointed at Grimmjow's chest, prodding the skin enough to let blood leak easily. Kurosaki's voice was low as Zangetsu rumbled, "I am dedicated to my wielder."

Though fear rushed Grimmjow, the hollow's retaliation was short-lived.

Kurosaki returned; Zangetsu's blade slipped to his back, his hand lingering on the hilt for a long while. Some sign of acknowledgement they had for one another.

Ichigo crossed in the direction Grimmjow had pointed to, nearly ignoring him while Grimmjow was sure he was calming down the creature screeching in his head.

"Would you have let him kill me?" Grimmjow asked distantly, finding no joy in that question.

"I said I would fight on my own. That was the promise I made to them." He had a guilty look in his eye, casting it far out into the ivory sea. Far away enough that Ichigo spotted a reddish torii gate. "To myself."

Grimmjow's expression hardened. "You didn't answer my question."

Ichigo shook his head. "No. I wouldn't."

Brown eyes distraught and distant, the sea regaled a new dreadful lullaby. Ikomikidomoe's world pulsated with want, vibrated with need. The creature wanted to know if its meal had gone to waste.

Ichigo felt drained, running on empty despite being in spirit form.

"Find the truth, Ichigo," urged the old man.

He held out his hand for Grimmjow to take, to which the rogue ex- grumbled. Ichigo only risked this second olive branch so they would get the fuck off of this road.

And hoping their truth would be beyond that hazy marker.

Shun-po was instantaneous when Grimmjow slapped his palm into Ichigo's, Ichigo racing for the torii gate.

Ikomikidomoe erupted from the sand and pressed its tongue to Via Dolorosa, lapping up the remnants of power below Ichigo's feet.

Inspiration for this chapter came from Memories of Nobody and the light novels CFYOW :)