Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Seireitei Monogatari ❯ All the Same ( Chapter 108 )

Title: All the Same

Characters: Ichigo/Grimmjow (if you squint), Renji

Rating: T (for language and blood)

Warning: Spoilers. Massive spoilers. Up to the current arc in the manga.

Words: 3,478

Description: Companion to A Thin, Red Line and Quiet Destruction. He can't explain it; he doesn't even bother to try. Ichigo just knows this is something he has to do.

 

Inspiration: Sick Puppies, “All the Same”

Dedication: To Vicious-Loner, my partner in crime for this pairing

 

 

“Go ahead tell me you'll leave again. You'll just come back running. Holding your scarred heart in hand. It's all the same.”

 

Sick Puppies, All the Same.

 

 

He ignores the sound of feet chasing after him, the sharp press of his breath in his lungs and the stench of destruction and death around him.

 

“Ichigo!”

 

“Shut the fuck up, Renji!” he snarls, throwing the words over his shoulder as he flashes forward in another burst of shunpo and lands on the ruins of a shattered tower.

 

He crouches down and scans the waving hills of white sand in front of him. Above him, the sky is black in some places. In others, a fake blue to mimic that of the living world. Or even Seireitei. And below him, a shattered Las Noches is his only vista.

 

There is a thud, and Renji lands beside him, a little out of breath, sweat on his brow. “Dammit,” he gasps with hands on his knees. “What the hell do ya think yer goin' to find here, Ichigo? There's nothin' left!”

 

Ichigo twists his jaw, refusing to answer what he has already answered several times over. Renji doesn't understand. Rukia doesn't understand. None of them do. They hadn't understood before, and they aren't going to understand now. Ichigo has stopped bothering to try explain himself.

 

On his back, Zangetsu thrums uneasily. Ichigo tips his head to the side, eyes narrowing slightly as he concentrates on the ossan and the further hum of Shirosaki.

 

'Feel anything?'

 

There is something akin to a mental shake of the head. 'No, Ichigo. Nothing.'

 

'Well, keep looking,' he nearly snarls at another form of himself. 'I know that bastard isn't dead. He's too stubborn to die.'

 

There is the sound of laughter, Shirosaki mocking him. 'Stupid king, ya should listen to that damn tattooed idiot for once. There ain't nothin' here.' He has an image of a white sneer, and that echoing voice seems to taunt him.

 

Ichigo doesn't bother to respond to the Hollow either. His instincts have always served him well, and he's sure this time. Grimmjow is not dead.

 

He doesn't know what has driven him to find the fallen Espada or why he feels he has to return to this scene, weeks later. Logic dictates that even if Grimmjow were alive, he would be far away from the ruins of his lord's failed attempt at becoming god. Rationality believes firmly that Grimmjow is dead, that Nnoitra's final blow killed him. Or if he survived that, then bleeding out surely did so afterwards.

 

But Ichigo has never been the type to bow down to logic or rationality. He has always crashed against it headfirst, butting into impossible and making it victory. And he knows that he's going to find Grimmjow or die trying. With or without the help of the Shinigami. In fact, preferably without. After all, he doesn't know what they would try to do to a former Espada.

 

“Ichigo.” A hand settles on his shoulder, and Ichigo roughly shakes it off.

 

He whips his head to the side, fixing Renji with a glare firm enough that Byakuya would be proud. “Leave it alone, Renji,” he growls, muscles bunching in preparation for another great leap. “I'm doing this whether you like it or not.”

 

Renji is unmoved by his determination, showing his usual idiotic resolve. He isn't intimidated by the flaring of Ichigo's reiatsu as it whips at his skin. He doesn't even flinch, the brave bastard. And for a single moment, Ichigo remarks that he really is a good friend to follow him to the edges of hell for a reason that not even Ichigo completely understands.

 

“Fine,” Renji spits, squaring his jaw with eyes flashing. “Then, at least lemme help ya before ya kill yerself searching empty miles of fuckin' nothin'.”

 

“I don't need your help,” Ichigo mutters and leaps down to the ground. And then, he is racing across the sand, trying to look for something that's familiar. Anything that will remind him of where that battle had taken place.

 

He thinks that if he could just find something. The signature of Grimmjow's reiatsu. Even a clue as to the Arrancar's location would satisfy him. From there he could track it. Find something more than the unanswered questions that linger in the back of his mind.

 

He hears footsteps speeding across the sand behind him and knows that Renji is following. He can't shake off the stubborn asshole unless he slips into bankai, and Ichigo doesn't want to waste his energy to do that. He is only glad that Rukia hasn't caught wind of this. Otherwise, she would be out here and chasing him, too.

 

Resolving to simply ignore Renji, Ichigo fixes his gaze firmly forward. But dammit, every tattered and crumpled building looks the same. Every hill of white sand. Every faint splash of blood, not faded even after all this time. And his memory has never been the best either. Especially not when he is trying to recall things through a haze of battle and pain and blood and fighting to just plain survive.

 

'Ichigo.' Zangetsu's voice is quiet on the edge of his mind, almost hesitant. As though he doesn't want to reveal whatever new information he has discovered. 'I think that Renji may be right. There is nothing living here.'

 

“You don't know for sure,” Ichigo growls aloud, not caring that Renji is shooting him a strange look from the sound.

 

The war has been over for months now. All that is left is the ashes of a fierce battle, the echoes of it still present in the debris that litters Karakura. Which the general public still hasn't been able to explain away.

 

It had been brutal and vicious, dark enough to haunt Ichigo's dreams. He can only remember fighting, breathing blood, rising to his feet again and again. He sees himself fighting Ulquiorra over and over in his dreams. Sometimes, he still wins; sometimes, he loses. And yet, in the back of his mind, Grimmjow has always hovered. And he has always wondered what happened to the sixth Espada who is just like him and yet so different.

 

He regrets that he hasn't been able to come sooner than now. He wonders what he will find. If he even finds anything at all.

 

A black and red blur appears in front of him, and Ichigo screeches to a halt to avoid crashing into it. He steps out of shunpo and glowers at the body forcefully standing in his path. Unexpectedly, it is Renji. He takes a step forward with the intention of beating his friend to a pulp when his knee gives out beneath him, and he nearly crumples to the ground. It takes all his effort to remain standing, but that one moment of weakness is all it takes for a look of triumph to appear over Renji's face.

 

Only then does Ichigo feel it. The muscles that are straining, pulsing and pounding with the force of effort he has ruthlessly coerced them to output. His body is covered in a sweat that makes him shiver, and he is shaking, though he isn't sure why. His reiatsu is a wild and rippling thing, barely held back by the threads of his control. Ichigo has the distinct fear that he may be losing his mind.

 

What is this desperation?

 

“See,” Renji practically sneers at him. “Yer actin' crazy, Ichigo. Why do ya care so much about an Espada? And especially him. He tried ta kill ya! And Rukia, too!”

 

“I don't know,” Ichigo gasps, wishing he could have screamed it, but his body is rebelling now, and it takes effort to breathe. He folds over, putting his hands on his knees. “I really don't know.”

 

He just feels that he can't just let Grimmjow die, fade away into nonexistence. There's something alike in them, something that only they can understand, and Ichigo has been desperately searching for that. He has his friends and his family. He has those he cares for. But no one gets him, understands him. And by kami, is it so fucking wrong that he wants that?

 

He has more friends than he knows what to do with. More people to look out for, to protect and watch over. But the loneliness is still there. It's still pressing inside of him, and he doesn't really understand that. He still wants to know, just what it is that binds them together. And he fears that if Grimmjow is dead, he'll never understand. That the gnawing confusion that has been gripping him will only get worse until he goes mad from it.

 

'King,' Shirosaki begins, and there is a hint of a cackle in his tone. 'Ya damn persistent bastard. Ya did it.'

 

“What the hell are you talkin' about?” Ichigo demands aloud, too tired to concentrate on speaking inside his own head. “I don't feel anyth--” His words cut off as it hits him then, just a dull buzz on the edge of his senses.

 

Renji feels it too because he suddenly straightens, and his hand drops to the hilt of Zabimaru, body slipping into an attack stance. It is reiatsu, weak but with the hint of having been strong at some point. It is tired and pained. But filled with determination. And most importantly, it is heading their way.

 

Drawing himself up straight, as much as his aching body agrees to do, Ichigo wraps his fingers around Zangetsu's hilt. The hair on the back of his neck rises, and he turns, whipping his zanpakutou from his back in one smooth motion. The sharp sound of metal striking metal fills the emptiness of the shattered Las Noches, and Ichigo's eyes widen impossibly large. Behind him, Renji sucks in a surprised breath, for once absolutely mute.

 

“Never thought I'd ever see ya again,” a specter with blue hair cackles at him, grinning madly behind the silver length of his blade. “Thought ya woulda left with the other Shinigami trash.”

 

Ichigo grits his teeth and pushes back against the force being directed towards him. The metal of their blades shriek as they scrape but hold steady.

 

“How the fuck are you alive?” he demands, even as his eyes rake up and down Grimmjow's frame.

 

He isn't sure he wants to call what he sees before him alive. Grimmjow looks no better now than he did when Ichigo left him laying there more than two weeks ago. His clothes are tattered and worn, though he has made some effort to pull them together, and where he has gathered the semblance of a cloak, Ichigo isn't sure. His body is covered in a myriad of bruises in varied states of discoloration, and Ichigo can see every wound that mars Grimmjow's frame. Some are caked over. Some are healed, and some look as if they tried to heal but gave up and lingered somewhere between sealed and the unhealthy tint of impeding infection.

 

“Takes a lot more than that shit ta kill me.” Grimmjow sneers and then surges forward, trying to throw Ichigo off balance.

 

Ichigo twists out of the trap of blade on blade and swings Zangetsu around, only to meet with Grimmjow's katana again. They trade several blows, each one more jarring than the last, and for the first time in several weeks, Ichigo feels the excitement rising again. Even with his body trying to pull him down to the floor, and the smell of blood fresh in the air, he can feel it.

 

Behind him, he feels Renji's reiatsu spike, and he is surprised because for a moment he has completely forgotten Renji is even there. His world has already narrowed to this duel, he and Grimmjow, one on one. Ichigo just knows that Renji plans on joining the battle. That what Renji sees, he interprets as a threat. And that's not the truth at all. Besides, even if he is tired as all fuck, Ichigo doesn't need any help. This battle is his and his alone.

 

“Stay the fuck out of it, Renji!” Ichigo screams, raising his tired arms against the Espada's onslaught. He knows that he sounds like a madman.

 

Grimmjow smirks, as though pleased by Ichigo's command. “Ya said it didn't ya, Kurosaki,” the Arrancar rasps, and their blades scrape together. Ichigo in shikai, Grimmjow's sword naked. “Anytime I wanted, you would fight me as many times as it took.”

 

He grits his death. “You're half-dead,” Ichigo growls, feeling sweat gather on his brow as his feet scrape across the sand. “It's no fun defeating an Espada who's barely standing.”

 

Blue eyes darken but in challenge. “We'll see who's half-dead.” Grimmjow sneers and then grunts, forcing himself forward and driving Ichigo a step backwards. His foot threatens to turn on a half-buried piece of debris, but he keeps his stance. He will not fall here.

 

He sees in Grimmjow's eyes a mixture of emotions. Determination and a wildness that explains his mad rush into battle, despite his condition. And even deeper still, the same loneliness that had captured Ichigo's attention in their last fight.

 

Ichigo digs his waraji into the sand, grits his teeth, and presses Zangetsu forward. They trade blows for several long moments, and Grimmjow is the one to stumble. Ichigo takes his advantage and swings Zangetsu at the last moment altering his blow so that the flat of his blade smacks Grimmjow in the chest rather than the sharp edge.

 

The Arrancar is driven backwards by several steps, gasping for breath as his fingers spasm around his zanpakutou. He hisses a curse, face twisting into a scowl that he directs at Ichigo. But before Grimmjow can even begin to initiate another attack, he doubles over and spits up a glob of sticky but bright blood to the ground. And Ichigo sees it then, the red seeping through the makeshift array of cloth that he has wrapped around his frame.

 

The damn stubborn bastard. He fights even when he can barely stand, can barely breathe and bleeding all over the place. Why does that sound familiar?

 

He is still injured but also still clinging to his life. Yet, the light is dying from his eyes. Another few days, Ichigo knows he would have only found a corpse. Sheer willpower alone has kept him alive this long. Willpower and maybe a bit of something else as well.

 

“What do you think you're doing, idiot?” Ichigo demands as Grimmjow wipes the back of his hand over his mouth and spits to the side. “Attacking me when you look like that?”

 

Blue eyes glower at him and at what he perceives to be pity. “And what does it matter to you, brat? Or can't ya beat me? Even like this?” He draws himself up straight laboriously, curling his fingers even tighter around his zanpakutou. Blood seeps from his wounds, and Ichigo can't help but watch it drip to the ground.

 

Ichigo squares his jaw, determined not to be goaded into this battle. “You're just looking for death, Grimmjow,” he returns, just wanting Grimmjow to stop because he doesn't want the Arrancar to die. “The easy way out because you don't want to die anyplace but battle. Which is still pretty fucking cowardly.”

Rage lights those eyes, and then, Grimmjow is forcing his battered body forwards, raising his cracked - Ichigo just notices this - blade upwards. Before he can move more than two steps, however, his entire body locks up, arms clamped to the sides. The zanpakutou slides from his fingers, slipping to the ground.

 

A growl of frustration emerges from Grimmjow's lips, a look of almost betrayal, and then, Renji's hilt slams into the back of his head, knocking him unconscious. He slumps to the ground in a graceless heap.

 

Wide eyes regard Renji with half-confusion and half-wonder. A part of Ichigo is angry that Renji interfered, another part of him is glad that Renji did. And then, he wonders if the redhead plans on killing the Espada next. But the man does nothing, just stands there and stares at Grimmjow's prone form.

 

Ichigo himself is still panting for breath. He finally forces his fingers to uncurl from Zangetsu's hilt and reattaches his zanpakutou to his back. He looks down at Grimmjow and wonders.

 

'What the hell am I going to do now?'

 

Sure, he has entered Hueco Mundo with the sheer intention of finding Grimmjow, but Ichigo never thought much past that. Just what is he going to do now?

 

“Well,” Renji drawls and folds his arms over his chest, lifting his eyes to Ichigo. “Now what?”

 

Ichigo shrugs. “You're the one that knocked him out,” he feels that it is important to point this out, as though it should be Renji's answer that is necessary.

 

“And yer the one who took off without a word into Hueco Mundo,” Renji counters, a hint of irritation filling his tone.

 

“And you followed me,” Ichigo shoots back accusingly.

 

But really, them arguing over the unconscious Espada is doing no good. Grimmjow could wake up at any moment, and Ichigo knows, he'll wake in a mood to fight again. It doesn't matter how beaten and bloody Grimmjow is, he will not simply lie down. Ichigo knows this as sure as he knows he would do the very same thing.

 

Ichigo releases a ragged sigh and rakes his palm down his face. Just what the hell does he think he's going to do? It's obvious Grimmjow needs medical attention, as well as a place to stay. He can't take the Arrancar home with him, and he doubts anyone in Seireitei would give a damn. The Vizard might, if he actually knew where to find them. That only left...

 

“Urahara,” Ichigo says in a firm tone, his choice making more and more sense with every passing moment. “We'll take him to Urahara.”

 

He doesn't know where else to go. Ichigo only knows that he has to save Grimmjow, to understand what this is. This unnamable something that makes no sense. He knows that he can't let the Espada die.

 

Renji nods to agree with him, and Ichigo wonders if he can really trust the man. But then, it is also too late now. If Renji had planned to kill Grimmjow, he would've already done it. He wouldn't have bothered knocking him out or asking Ichigo what he planned to do.

 

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

Ichigo watches him carefully. “You're going to help me?”

 

The Shinigami shrugs, already kneeling to grab Grimmjow's shoulders - not too gently, Ichigo notices - and prop him up into an easier position. When he does, several wounds start seeping blood more profusely, and Renji curses under his breath, reaching for the tattered remnants of Grimmjow's cloak to wrap around the injuries.

 

“I don't understand it,” Renji answers as Ichigo kneels to help, energized by the success of his mad pursuit and fully able to ignore the protests of his body. “And I think I'm crazy myself fer helpin' ya, but I'll do it, Ichigo.”

 

The Vizard's fingers flutter against Grimmjow's throat, and there is a heartbeat at the tip of them, frantic and worried beneath his touch, but there all the same. Grimmjow will survive, but only if he can get him some medical aid. He wonders if he can get the Espada on his back all alone, to send Renji for Orihime to meet them at the Urahara Shouten. Or if he should just let Tessai take care of it.

 

“Why?”

 

Renji shrugs, tightening one of the makeshift bandages with a bit more force than necessary. “Because,” he responds gruffly, giving no explanation whatsoever.

 

It is an answer Ichigo will accept however, since he doesn't want to stand here and argue reasoning with Renji. He knows that the other man never bothers with subtlety or hidden agendas. Renji isn't the type to help him with other motives. He'll just do it because, and that's the only reason he needs.

 

Ichigo looks down at Grimmjow, at the beaten and nearly destroyed Arrancar he has become. And yet, he doesn't feel that Grimmjow has been defeated in the slightest. He feels that the moment Grimmjow awakens, he'll fight again, even if his body can't take it. He knows because he would do the same thing.

 

So here he is, heaving Grimmjow up between Renji and him and carting him off to Urahara-san's, where he'll hope the shopkeeper will be willing to heal him. Possibly even house him for a short duration. Ichigo still isn't sure why he's doing this. Why he's risking everything, even himself, for this Arrancar. He just knows he has to. The why at this moment isn't even that important. Or that he'll find the answer eventually. He always did before.

 

All that matters to him right is that he knows what he's doing. And that's saving Grimmjow, just like he should have done all those weeks ago.

 

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