GRIND! PANTERA!

“i’m not just any shinigami… i’m the kenpachi! kenpachi zaraki!”

The name rings truer now than when he said it before his battle with Unohana. Now he understands the weight of its meaning, the legacy it holds. This name is bathed in blood and death, taken by the unconquerable after tearing it from the hands of the one who held it before. It’s a good name. He likes it.

Watching Grimmjow fly away nearly prompts him to give chase, but he’ll instead hold firm and let him come back. The sword idly rests atop his shoulders, and for a moment, if one listened faintly, they might hear the joyful laughter of a little girl, whispered upon the wind.

His eyes widen as he witnesses Grimmjow’s transformation. This guy’s going all-out right at the start… Good. Now he can see what Grimmjow can really do. Raising his weapon, he begins a lateral swipe, still slow, but still carrying weight behind it. Once more his flesh is shredded by those claws, but it’s easier to do now, and Grimmjow’s speed makes it easy to dodge his cut…

“…good, now things are gettin’ interesting!”

“I don’t fucking care who you are!”

He dodges the swipe, taking another with his needle like claws made from Pantera’s own blade. How satisfying it was to sink into flesh again, but this Kenpachi made it too easy at first. Grimmjow felt apathy in his strikes following after, as if he underestimated him. Did he do that on purpose?

Was that the sound of a child coming from his sword?

“You’re dead meat for all I care!” The gale force of the swing was like riding a wave, he could fly with it now. The nicked blade could be felt from the erratic force it made. A jagged edge like that could be felt before the cut even began to bleed.

The other’s zanpakuto was still in it’s unreleased form. Before blacking out in the sands a couple years ago, Grimmjow didn’t even catch a glance of it’s abilities, he only felt the reiatsu of Nnoitra and Neliel release during that fight.

No movements are made to block; Kenpachi simply rolls his shoulders as those claws rend at him. His flesh feels like concrete, but Grimmjow’s claws draw blood. Kenpachi grins as the scent hits his nose.

“…fuckin’ FINALLY.”

His weapon falls in a vicious downward slice, the movement slow, but powerful, like an oncoming hurricane.

Not pulling any punches. Good. This was the guy that took Nnoitra out--then knocking him down a peg would prove who the SUPERIOR Espada was. If Grimmjow had a heart then it was pumping now, or at least the physical one was. He hadn’t felt this amped now that Hueco Mundo grew so cozy under Haribel control. Damn grandma should have started her own knitting club somewhere else.

The rush of wind stirred up sand and reishi like a tornado, the second lunge was thwarted by the wind created by Kenpachi’s zanpakuto...just the blade itself. Damn, this guy was strong.

Grimmjow lost his footing and felt himself fly backwards into the air, still grinning like a madman as the blood dripped from his claws. Got through his hierro--or whatever those shinigami called their own armor. The force of the ground was barely felt through the raw adrenaline that coursed through his body. He had been slung through a few layers of stone rubble, now bleeding from a few cuts on his arm and back.

“HahaHAHA!!” He cackled maniacally. ”You’re more like and arrancar than a prudent little shinigami!”

The blade was drawn, he wasn’t going to hold back now that Aizen wasn’t there to stop him.

           “EXCUSE YOU!”            NAH–NOW IT WAS TIME TO THROW METAPHORICAL HANDS.            “I do not have an ego, you feral little muskrat.”

“Oohh-hoo touchy...”

“i knew i’d like you the moment i heard you got in a fight with ichigo. you lucky bastard, you got to fight him twice!”

He’ll free his chipped weapon from its sheath.

“go on… first hit’s free.”

“Tch--gonna sharpen my claws on you first before I kill him on the THIRD TRY.”

—————   ❝  bro….of  course ❞

“Heh...yeah no homo tho.”

BUSTS ANOTHER NUT with his teeth.

“Szayel shot some vaccines into me with a shotgun, confessed to it himself. Got some like heavy metals into me or some shit anyway. The only way to help treat that fuckshit is with HOMOPATHY.”

           “I don’t even have a throne, Grimmjow.”

"FUCKING FINE IM TRYING TO HELP YOU FINE WASTE AWAY WITH YOUR SCURVY YOU FUCKING CAT FURRY FUCK"

Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything. Ignore him and he will go away--what the fuck is scurvy?

If he ignores him. He will go away.

“Alright. Please wait here while I go get some onigiri. I’ll get tea as well, as tea is always nice.” 

He’ll disappear for a few minutes before returning with two steaming mugs of tea and a small bag of onigiri. He’ll hand off the bag to the arrancar along with one of the mugs. “Considering that I’ve heard that you are a feline-type hollow, I thought that you might like tuna?”

“Shut your mouth...” Grimmjow swipes the bag, nose wrinkling at the tea. Shinigami sure love this boiled leaf juice.

“Ah, but you are wrong again, arrancar. You see, I am not the sort of person who would take a sleeping person’s wallet. Nor would I look over you unless you asked it of me. I do not know you nearly well enough to do that.”

“What kind of onigiri do you like? Or does it matter?”

“Then how the hell did you end up--” He glances up, realizing that he had fallen asleep in some alleyway of the Seireitei. Huh. That explains a bit.

“Perhaps not, but it never hurts to get a little extra sleep.”

“Yeah. Bet that would be convenient for you watchin’ over me like that. Tryin’ to take my wallet or somethin’ I bet. Jokes on you emo boy--I don’t have one.”

“Go back to sleep.”