Chapter Text
He'd heard many people say that Hollows had no purpose; that they only served to consume and devour those around them.
Shinigami would tell tales of how many they vanquished, Quincies would turn their noses up at the mere mention of them. Indeed, many Arrancar would be insulted to even be referred to as such, considering themselves above such primitive beings.
Despite this, looking at the blank, grey wall in front of him, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez couldn't help but admire the brickwork those same Hollows had put into repairing Los Noches.
Wrapping white tape around his hands in order to preserve what little of himself he could, he found observing the construction efforts to be calming in a strange sort of way. Hollows turning their energy from ravaging and laying waste to anything they came across, into building and restoring was exactly the kind of positive reinforcement he needed to get out of bed in the morning.
His hands adequately covered, Grimmjow tossed the roll of tape away. They weren't completely self-sufficient in Hueco Mundo, many of those Hollows still cannibalised out of necessity despite now having a roof over their heads. And just as Shinigami would ridicule them, Hollows would sneer in return at the supplies that Soul Society provided to Los Noches.
Grimmjow didn't hold anything against his kind, he was all too familiar with being a slave to the nature you were birthed to.
He ran a palm across the smooth, cool slabs and braced himself. Taking a sharp breath, he launched a single fist into the wall. Grunting at the thud his hand made against the surface, he ignored the pain telling him that this was a bad idea and threw a few more jabs at several distinctive bricks, each blow finding their mark perfectly.
Feeling his knuckles and fingers burning, Grimmjow gritted his teeth and let out a flurry of lightning fast punches, only stopping when he heard several bones start to crack.
He stared at his swollen hands and waited for a catharsis that never came. Looking back up at the fractured wall, he wondered how different he would feel if it was alive, if it could scream out in pain and beg for mercy.
He had gotten weaker; his technique and form were still impeccable, but his punches didn't pack the power they once did. Not that he was surprised, he hadn't been taking care of himself, letting his body go to ruin.
He hardly slept at all anymore; his dreams frightened him. They were filled with blood and gore and... he was worried that if he woke up from one, he'd find that it hadn't been a dream at all.
Grimmjow ran his fingertips against some loose chippings before clenching his fists and letting the blood from his opened flesh seep through the tape and onto the sands.
He could feel it, slowly building in his stomach again. It was like a hunger of sorts, asking to be fed. Subconsciously, he could hear its raspy voice begging him to track down some prey that would bleed, that would scream out in pain and beg for mercy. No matter how many times the voice in the back of his mind would invite him to destroy, he always gave it the same answer.
Grimmjow cocked his head, then threw it against the wall as hard as he could.
She stepped out of the Garganta and was greeted by the cold wind of the mortal world. This massive, dark basement was a far cry from the beautiful sunset she had watched the last time she was here.
Nel surveyed the area and tried to cast happier memories from her mind. She had a job to do, and reminiscing wasn't going to help her accomplish it.
Spying the way out, she briskly made her way across the huge training grounds to track down her target. Time was not something she had in abundance, so she didn't have all day to entertain Kisuke Urahara's small talk.
Climbing the stairs, she found the blond man standing behind his counter, looking impossibly bored until he saw her. The hard line of his mouth instantly turned into a lopsided grin.
"Ah Nelliel, I thought I heard something alright, welcome back to my store. I've been meaning to ask you about those Gigai I gave to you and Grimmjow, also something about a broken nose-"
"Not now, Kisuke." Nel interrupted, letting him know that his jokes weren't appreciated. If they ever had a chance to see that sunset again, Nel vowed to make amends for that uncharacteristic bolt of jealousy that managed to catch even Grimmjow by surprise. If her current situation was as simple to solve; she would break a thousand people's noses.
Urahara's expression softened at her snappy tone and urgent demeanour. He motioned for her to sit on a worn chair by the window and came around to join her.
"How can I be of assistance?" Urahara asked curiously, crossing his legs.
Nel cleared her throat and tried to verbalise everything that had happened over the past few weeks. She hardly even knew what she was saying as she explained it, it still seemed so unreal to her.
It took several days for her to get over the raw pain that Grimmjow's confession had caused her. Discovering the person she slept next to every night had a death wish, turned her into an inconsolable, crying mess who refused to leave her room.
Harribel came by often to speak with her about other goings-on in Hueco Mundo, but like an injured animal, Nel was only concerned with licking her wounds. She felt guilty about her one word replies; it wasn't that she didn't appreciate Harribel's efforts to take her mind off him, but given the severity of the situation, those conversations felt inane by comparison.
For his part, Grimmjow gave them their space, sectioning himself off while they came to terms with his impending breaking point.
When she had no more tears left to spill and could not stomach another day in bed, Nel vowed to do everything she could to rescue Grimmjow from himself. On one hand, she was glad to now have a specific goal to work towards rather than blindly guessing what was wrong with him, on the other, she couldn't help but feel responsible for letting Grimmjow get to this point, for letting him face this alone.
If depression was rage turned inwards, she couldn't even imagine what that destruction was doing to his insides.
So she had come here, to Karakura town, to find a solution from one of the smartest people she knew. She hadn't wanted to seek outside help when she first sensed that something was wrong; she thought that if she could get through to Grimmjow, there might be a way to rehabilitate him. That idea went out the window once she saw his mental state; this was going to require a little more than therapy with Harribel.
Unfortunately, to her mind, there was only one thing that was capable of changing something that drastic. The object that gave him his Aspect of Death in the first place.
"The Hogyoku. Can it help him?"
Urahara's face filled with recognition as he realised what she came to him for.
He stroked his chin and sat up straight with a sigh. "Like most scientific creations that go awry, when I conceived of the Hogyoku, it was with the best of intentions, along with a healthy amount of hubris. It was meant to be as simple as a source of energy, it ended up having the power to grant whatever the user desired. It's abilities spiralled out of control faster than I could anticipate and even after I tried to hide it, it still fell into the hands of that psychopath. When it rejected Aizen, I swore that if I couldn't destroy it, I would make sure that no one would ever use it again."
"But it could help Grimmjow?"
"There is no way of knowing of how it would react to him, it is just as likely to kill him as help him, probably more so."
"It's possible though?" She asked slowly.
"I don't even know what Aizen put into each of you. This Aspect of Death, to remove it could be like getting rid of your essence, it could destroy him."
"Destroy him?" Nel asked incredulously. "He is going to destroy himself!
"I can offer sedatives, restraints-" Urahara tried, silently cursing his choice of words.
Nel suddenly stood up. "Where is it?"
"Have you ever considered the fact that I may not even have it? Last I checked, it was still embedded in Aizen's chest, and I'm not sure you want to get too close to him."
"You could make another one in your sleep if you wanted to." Nel argued.
"I could, but would I, given the havoc the first two caused?"
"Do not test me on this." Nel cautioned, drawing her Zanpakutou.
"I'm not trying to test you, I'm trying to make you see sense. Have you listened to a word I've said?" He said, not even flinching at the threat of violence.
Nel let out a sharp breath as she pressed Gamuza to his adam's apple, trying to stop her hand from trembling. She had no problem raising her sword for a righteous cause, but this was different.
This was crossing a line she wasn't sure she could come back from.
Opening the door to their bedroom, Nel found Grimmjow sitting on the edge of their bed. He clutched his forehead tightly, as if trying to stop the imminent discolouring by beating it into submission. Some habits die hard, conscious or not.
She wordlessly walked over to him and moved his hand away to reveal the ugly bruise behind it. She didn't comment on it or the bloody knuckles that had been covering it. Grimmjow didn't comment on her bloodshot eyes or icy skin.
It was an uneasy peacefulness, as if a single sentence would cause all hell to break loose. It had been like this for weeks now, neither of them wanting to address the elephant in the room.
She ran her thumb across his jaw then rested her hand on the back of his neck. He didn't meet her gaze as she studied him. He knew how terrible he must look, heavy purple rings under his eyes, his gaunt face; his hair was unruly, though not in a stylistic or intentional way. The fire in his belly was now as dead and empty as the hole there.
After a few moments, she bent down and kissed his forehead, he could feel a little saliva leak onto the bump, the pain instantly soothed. She had the power to effortlessly make everything better in an instant, while all he had to offer in return was stress and heartache.
He had started to wonder if his recent impotence was a side effect of the depression, or just sheer embarrassment from having to be cared for like a child.
Grimmjow retracted his hand before she got a chance to drool on them, he would let his cracked skin slowly knit itself back together for the sake of whatever remained of his pride.
Nel moved to her side of the bed and climbed in beside him. He leaned back and shivered as he pulled her to him, not caring how cold she was. Nel laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes, he gently stroked her back and let her slowly warm up.
The brief moments of respite Grimmjow did manage to have were always when she was by his side. Nel's presence was enough to coax his body into a vulnerable enough state to rest, for however long that lasted. The worst of the nightmares made his insomnia seem like a blessing by comparison.
They started off innocent enough. Her sobs from that day still haunted him, compounded by an irreparable sense of guilt. The first time he woke up in a sweat to Nel's concerned expression and allowed himself a brief chuckle at their role reversal. No longer was it her being afflicted by bad dreams.
He didn't laugh at the subsequent visions in his sleep.
They started off with her sobs again, only it didn't stop and was instead followed by her pleas and screams, and her blood on his hands. Grimmjow stopped rubbing her back and glanced at his knuckles. Better to have his there than her's.
"Tier is finally running out of tea." Nel murmured when she felt his touch leave her.
Grimmjow chuckled lightly. "Try not to sound too disappointed."
"I'm thinking of throwing a party actually, we never got one when we won the war."
"Coming home wasn't good enough for you?"
"After gallantly saving you, I guess I would've preferred something a bit more than a wrecked castle that was already ours as the spoils of war."
"Save me? You just threw me." He scowled.
"I did not."
"I was there!" He exclaimed.
"You were unconscious." She tutted dismissively.
"I'm willing to go along with my head aching because of the poison, but my fractured wrist and the massive scrape across my temple, while the shopkeeper, the cat and her brother woke up feeling as fresh as a daisy, kind of pokes holes in your story."
"As fresh as a daisy, and just as useless." She muttered.
Grimmjow's eyes narrowed, he looked down but could only see the top of her helmet. He laid back and stared up at the ceiling, trying not to think about how the crack in her helmet was a constant reminder of how he failed to be there for her when she needed him most.
"And you're still just as intent on saving me now as you were then, eh?" He said sombrely.
That did get her to sit up, hazel eyes fluttering and appraising him. From this angle, it looked like her helmet was slowly fusing itself back together, a metaphor that was quite literally being rubbed in his face.
"Always." Her hot breath hit his face as she reaffirmed her promise to him. Bending down, locks of green hair fell and tickled his cheek while her soft lips brushed against his.
It had been too long since he had a proper night's sleep.
Grimmjow reached over for Nel but found only an empty bed. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, arched his back and stretched languidly with a groan. The rest had him feeling placid, in control.
Opting for a navy jumpsuit today, he stopped pulling the zipper up as it ran over his chest scar. Grimmjow ran his two forefingers over the seared flesh. He had considered asking Nel to heal it, it didn't hold the significance it once did. A memento from a grudge that had long since faded.
Rolling the sleeves up on his jacket, he stepped out into the hall and made his way through the castle. It was busier than usual, he passed Hollows walking, scuttling, crawling and sliding by him.
"Lord Grimmjow!"
He stopped and let out a quiet sigh. He almost preferred it when everyone was terrified of him, now he was expected to act as some sort of sheriff, keeping a semblance of order and solving problems through words instead of violence.
Hueco Mundo didn't have laws, rules to follow or guidelines on how to act. Strength was the only currency ever worth having, and while there were two others who shared his level of power, only he had the reputation and past actions to back up that strength.
He was the enforcer to Nel's knight, or Harribel's queen. His violent actions still echoed across the sands all these years later, a deterrent to anyone who might cross him. Now it extended to anyone who might cross Los Noches or the Hollows who resided there, and thankfully, no one had stepped up to test that legendary reputation.
Nel had always encouraged him to serve in a more active capacity in dealing with Hollows, outside of butchering them, but he always brushed her off. However, with his current circumstances he had sort of fallen into the position, not having the strength or will to fight anyone. It was a good way to keep his temper in check and ensure that he never gave into his urge to destroy.
Unfortunately, it also meant that he was now often approached by his kind with their unbearably tedious predicaments.
Grimmjow's eyes widened when he saw the person who called him was one of Nel's Fracciones; Pesche, or was it Dondochakka? He'd been an asshole to them so many times and gotten their names mixed up enough that it almost didn't matter anymore.
"What?" Grimmjow asked.
"I was just wondering if you knew where Lady Nel had gone for the day and when she will be returning?"
"She's-" His voice faltered.
His instincts begged him to relapse and hit this pathetic creature in front of him for even daring to speak to him. But destruction or not, he didn't have the heart for that. These poor bastards cared about Nel almost as much as he did, and now she didn't even tell them where she was going.
"She'll be back." Grimmjow said assuredly, hastily brushing past him before he could get another word out.
He turned a corner and silently cursed to himself as he stumbled across Apacci, Mila Rose and Sung Sun idling, he just couldn't escape anyone today. Grimmjow nodded awkwardly to them and they returned with half waves and muttered greetings.
They had engaged in verbal warfare so many times that being on neutral ground for the past few months was weird for all of them. It was strange for his and Apacci's conversations to not end in either growled threats or contemptuous sneers.
"Uh, Lady Harribel is in her private chambers if you wish to speak with her." Mila Rose pointed in the direction of Harribel's favourite retreat in the castle.
"Right, thanks." Grimmjow nodded again, going to move past them.
"Hey." Apacci stopped him in his tracks, right next to her. "I know we've had our differences in the past but... well I've seen you beat nearly everything you've gone up against, so you better beat whatever this is too."
As much as he genuinely appreciated the sentiment in her peace offering, he must have really looked like he was on his last legs if even Apacci was reaching out like this. It was like everyone had gathered to say goodbye to the beloved family pet.
Well, maybe 'tolerated' family pet would be more accurate in his case.
Still, even he had his limits when it came to morbidity. With his eyes locked dead ahead, Grimmjow carried on without saying anything.
He hadn't intended to speak to Harribel today either, he generally liked to prepare himself for her steely gaze, but it couldn't hurt to share a few words with her.
He found her meditating, one of the few past times they shared an interest in. Examining her relaxed posture, Grimmjow wondered if it was possible for her to ever not look composed. Even breaking her out of her chains with Nel, she looked like she had a strange sort of calm resignation at her fate and was nonplussed by her rescue.
Grimmjow cleared his throat. "Your highness."
"You're still here." Harribel murmured.
Grimmjow wanted to laugh as he approached her; he could see why Nel found Harribel so amusing. He hadn't even sat down and she was straight down to business.
It was such a polite way to say: "You haven't killed yourself yet."
Harribel opened her eyes and looked him up and down. He knew that Nel had asked her to watch over him while she was out trying to find a way to help him.
Grimmjow had gotten a better read on her now. While she did her best to keep her mask in place, it would occasionally slip and betray a flicker of emotion in her eyes or tone. She could've twisted the knife if she really wanted to, cut him deep when he was at his weakest but just like everyone else, she traded vitriol for compassion.
Still, with those weary looks that he spied, he had to wonder if she was getting as tired of his self-pity as he was.
"I am. I may be as directionless as a ship stranded at sea, but I told you, you couldn't get rid of me that easily." His voice was hoarse but he had a feeling that wasn't what Harribel raised an eyebrow at. "Nel, she's been reading more lately, wild west, pirates. I may have taken to reading some of her books myself, helps pass the time." He said sheepishly.
"You also seem to have done a number on the back of the castle, apparently one of the walls looks like someone took a war hammer to it."
"I'd say our home did more damage to me than I did to it." He said drily, clenching his swollen hands.
"Well it's just as well construction has started on a new wing of Los Noches. Our numbers are still growing by the day and soon we will run out of space to house them. It's time to expand."
"I guess being used for target practice by Quincy arrows will make anyone consider peace in exchange for refuge. Nel was right." Grimmjow conceded.
"She usually is. Anything to report?"
"No violent uprisings or oncoming sieges if that's what you're asking. Usual shit, you know how it is."
The one bright side of his new role was that disputes between Hollows tended to be nice and simple. The solution was usually to get them to stop biting each other.
Harribel nodded and let her serious expression fall.
"How are you?" She asked sincerely.
"I'm alright." He hoped his voice sounded more convincing than he felt. When Harribel didn't say anything, he elaborated. "That day, it was like a breaking point, like a reset. The rage was just sapped right out of me. Now I'm just in limbo, like I'm-"
"Directionless as a ship stranded at sea." Harribel finished.
"Yeah." He paused. "How's she holding up, aside from the obvious I mean."
"She is out there everyday, trying to find a method to cure you."
"I said aside from the obvious." He grunted.
Harribel hadn't meant offence with her statement. It wasn't bitter, it was merely matter-of-fact, objective, as always when it came to her. Honestly, he would have rathered her candidly tell him how he didn't deserve Nel, that would have been her most accurate statement yet.
"She seemed hopeful today." Harribel said softly.
"She always seems hopeful, until she comes back to me and sees exactly what she's fighting for."
He looked over to see if Harribel had another withering stare at his self-pity, however her emerald eyes seemed to be in agreement with him for once.
The orange-haired Shinigami still stood as majestic as ever; the light breeze and picturesque view of his town behind him made him all the more cinematic. So much so that Nel had to wonder if his posing was intentional.
The childlike adoration she had for him may have waned over the years, but she wasn't sure it would ever go away completely. Ichigo had this magnetic presence to him, it drew you in like Aizen's Bankai; once you saw him, you were hooked. However, unlike Aizen's Bankai, Ichigo earned people's loyalty through righteousness and courage. His victories were a result of tenacity that bordered on pig-headed stubbornness.
Nel had to stop her thoughts from running over. The way she initially saw him, through the eyes of a child, had created a strong infatuation with him. He was the hero who had fought for her, who got her to transform back to her true self and raise her sword once more. However, as grateful as she was for all he had done for her, she had not come to fawn over him today.
"Ichigo." She called over to him.
"Nel." He greeted. "Kisuke told me you wanted to meet here, said you were tense, to put it mildly. Now that I'm here, I finally see the significance of this place. You couldn't imagine how shocked I was when I turned on the news a year ago and saw two familiar faces plastered all over the screen.
"They thought you two overdosed, but before they could carry out an autopsy, Kisuke and Yoruichi dragged me to sneak into the morgue and get your Gigais. That whole thing was like a week-long scandal here, especially after the missing bodies. Also, did you really break some poor woman's nose?"
"What- Yes. Listen, that's not really why I came here."
"Right," Ichigo said apprehensively, "Grimmjow."
"I need time. Urahara was a dead end and the last few of my ideas are... difficult, for a former Espada to get to. I don't have anymore favours to call in, for all the good that did me. Now Grimmjow's seemed alright for the past couple of days but we need to be ready."
"What did you have in mind?"
"He's not going to want to fight now, believe me I tried that, but when he snaps, it's going to be the only thing he's focused on."
"Nel-"
"I know, I know, I don't want to think about that either, but with each moment that passes, that urge to destroy gets stronger. I don't need you in Hueco Mundo permanently on guard. I was thinking you could persuade him into some sort of clash, ease some of the pressure off for now. Even if he does snap, I reckon between Harribel and myself, we should be able to hold him. He's not what he once was."
Ichigo hesitated and held his tongue.
"Trust me, one sight of you should spark something in him."
"It didn't." He said finally.
"What?" Nel whispered, her throat was suddenly very dry.
Ichigo sighed and sat down on a small rusty fence. "Grimmjow came to me a while ago in hopes of alleviating exactly what you were talking about; it wasn't the standard 'fight me, Kurosaki!' fare that I'm used to, there was something desperate enough in him to where I just couldn't say no. Soon as I was ready to go, I looked over at him and just froze. He was all wrong. His stance wasn't right, the grip on his Zanpakutou was shaky, all that strength he fought to acquire was just not there.
"He knew just as well as I did, that this was going nowhere. He walked away, almost without a word before he stopped and said to expect you."
Nel stood like a statue, mouth agape and mind racing as she listened to Ichigo. Of course. Of course Grimmjow had already come to see him, it had to be during that month he placed himself in exile. He had talked to everyone but her about his Aspect of Death, she was the last to know, being sheltered from the bad news like a child.
Nel's vision was already getting blurry from the oncoming tears. Ichigo placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her into an embrace, just as Harribel had done. Where Ichigo's touch once felt warm and reassuring to her, it was now cold and repulsive. She completely drowned out whatever comforting bullshit was spilling from his lips. She felt powerless, useless to the man she was trying to save, the man who she-
Nel exhaled and the crying stopped. She had done this song and dance before and nothing had come of it. She was tired of being two-steps behind Grimmjow, following his every move and hitting every roadblock he had. Nel pulled herself from Ichigo's arms and turned her back on him.
"I'm not sure how much help I can be, but if you ever want to talk..." Ichigo stopped and bowed his head. He realised he was just as much use to her as he had been to Grimmjow.
Without saying another word, Nel summoned a Garganta and didn't look back as it swallowed her, completely missing the orange sky turning into a rich, dark red as the sun started to descend behind her.
"You look tired."
"Those who live in glass houses, Grimmjow- Actually, I am pretty tired and my shoulder hurts." Nel conceded, throwing her arm back with a grimace.
"Come here." Grimmjow said softly.
She joined him in bed and sat up while Grimmjow started to undress her. He ran his still sore fingers up her arm, feeling the knots in her muscles under his calloused hands. Nel closed her eyes and let out a pleased sigh as he began to knead the flesh that had been crying out for attention. He always had a knack for finding the right spots.
"Would you like me to heal that scar on your chest in exchange? Seems you have no need for it these days." Nel commented coolly.
"Meanings change, purpose changes." He murmured cryptically.
"Do you?" Nel asked tersely, immediately regretting it.
She was angry with him today. She felt like he was letting her exhaust every option so that when the time came, she would feel as if she had done everything she could. That she would accept it.
The relief stopped as Grimmjow paused his ministrations. "Is that a rhetorical question?"
"Whichever gets you to stay longer." She whispered.
Another bout of silence filled the air, before Grimmjow resumed rubbing her skin.
"Did you talk to your Fracciones?" He asked.
"Briefly. They're okay for now. Seeing all these new Hollows; do you remember when Aizen sent us to wipe out that camp who refused to follow him?" Nel asked.
"Set an example," Grimmjow quoted, "I remember."
Before she had been stuck with Nnoitra, Aizen had assigned her to monitor Grimmjow's destructive capabilities and report back to him. Originally, Ulquiorra held her position, but Aizen found the Quatro's limited feedback unsatisfactory; Ulquiorra had always been a man of few words.
It was a few weeks after they first slept together under the night sky and thankfully Grimmjow had agreed to stop blatantly staring at her in meetings, yet when Aizen announced that they were to leave together, he couldn't stop the cocky smirk or the knowing look he shot her.
None of the other Espada at the time either knew or cared about their relationship. Those that were aware certainly weren't going to tell Aizen. As self-serving as they could be at times, there was more fealty to each other than to their leader, who would always be viewed as an outsider, an invader.
Once they set off, it took Grimmjow very little time to pick up the Hollows' trail. They were nomadic, probably hoping they could escape Aizen's reach if they kept moving, however they had failed to take into account that Aizen had added a natural hunter like Grimmjow to his ranks.
When they found their makeshift camp, Nel didn't even have time to discuss strategy before Grimmjow had sprung into action. She had seen him spar and battle before, but this was the first time she had ever seen him fight to kill with her own eyes. He ripped through them like a scythe through a field of wheat, cutting down any who stood in his path.
His savagery had been unnerving to say the least, consumed by the fog of war, he was like a totally different person.
When they were the only two left standing, Grimmjow, his body soaked in blood, turned to look at her. He was waiting for her to say something, to comment on the violence she had just witnessed.
She realised that he was expecting her to chastise him, to turn her nose up at him. However in that savagery she had seen something, there was an efficiency to the way he sliced off their extremities. Even if it was purely because she was accompanying him, she appreciated that he didn't relish in the massacre this time.
"Are you okay?" She had asked. He spat out some blood and replaced the expectant look on his face with a toothy, red smile that was equal parts cute and equal parts disgusting.
Bringing her thoughts back to the present, Nel was ashamed that she had somehow been more tolerant of his destruction back then, than she had been a few months ago.
Grimmjow finished his massage and placed a tender kiss on her shoulder blade. "How's that?" He asked, lying back to face the ceiling again.
"Much better, thank you." She whispered, as she joined him.
"I did think about getting you to heal my scar, just this morning, in fact. When I think about why I kept it, it was like a promise: the promise of another fight, the promise of feeling that alive again. Then during the war when I saw him again, that excitement came rushing back. Once we saved the world, I was finally going to fulfil that promise... and then I almost died.
"By the time I woke up with a throbbing headache and an aching wrist, I was exhausted. The war had taken its toll and I didn't give a shit about Kurosaki, I just wanted to go home and rest. I figured it would pass, that I would wake up with a jolt and kick myself for throwing away the opportunity when he was right there.
"That didn't happen, instead I didn't feel much of anything. I lay around Los Noches feeling lost and well, you know all that shit. The spark never came back right. It's not the love of battle anymore, that feeling of being alive; it's the need to slaughter, to linger in the stench of death.
"That's the difference, Nel, that's the line I'm gonna cross when this destruction eventually consumes me. And for the time being, this scar reminds me of that."
He had told her all of this before, of course. Almost verbatim on that fateful day when all of this came to a head, at least she thought it had. Here they were, nearly two weeks later and not much had changed except her narrowing options of helping him. Was he repeating himself in the hopes that she would now see things from his perspective, that she would now accept this?
"How long?" Nel breathed.
She wouldn't accept it, couldn't accept it.
"Depends on the day." He said grimly.
Unfortunately, her acceptance mattered little when faced with the simple truth.
"I failed you." Nel whimpered suddenly.
Grimmjow turned onto his side to look at her and caught her off guard with a small grin. "Failed me? You're the only one who still wants to try for me, who still thinks I have a chance. Everyone else is acting like I'm already dead, I'm starting to think they're already digging a spot for me in this new wing Harribel is so eager to build."
Nel's heart clenched as she willed her words to come out. "I do still want to try, but I feel like you're letting the clock run out while I waste time going around in circles. You can't expect me to wait around while I let you punch walls in the hopes that you won't wake up with in a bloodthirsty rampage." Nel's pleading hazel eyes were too intense for him to meet directly.
Grimmjow looked over at his Zanpakutou, resting against the wall next to Nel's. He had one last idea that he had been hoping to avoid, but Nel was right. His hourglass had run out of sand and he had nothing to show for it; slamming his head into walls didn't exactly have the desired effect.
The voice's cravings were getting louder and harder to ignore. If he was going to do this, it was now or never.