Characters: Kenpachi, Grimmjow
Word Count: 1,185
Summary: Kenpachi comes to the human world looking for a fight. He finds one.
Comments: Written on a spur of the moment for chriek, because we share a love for bloodlusty beasties. ♥
Soul Society was falling apart, and Zaraki Kenpachi didn’t care.
Well, that was kind of unfair. He cared, sort of. He lived there, after all. But he didn’t give a shit about its inhabitants, that was for sure. As long as there was a rock big enough for him to stand on, Kenpachi really didn’t give a shit about anything. A deathblow only required a little footing, after all, and that last swing was all Kenpachi really cared about.
He’d volunteered to go to earth because he knew that human was there somewhere. He couldn’t care any less about his duties as taichou; let Yama-ji deal with it, it was what the old fuck did. But Zaraki just wanted a good fight. One that left scars. It wasn’t a real fight if you didn’t have to give yourself to it, and he’d given a good hard chunk to that damn Ichigo kid. Heh. Now that was a fight worth remembering. He grinned at the memory of the blood running down his chest. His blood. He didn’t get the chance to let it out that often, and it was growing dull for lack of sunlight.
Or moonlight. He didn’t think it mattered which.
This guy, though…this was new. Kenpachi felt his chest tighten as he struggled to breathe, dry lips pulled back wide in a feral grin. His entire body ached so much he was trembling. He’d lost more blood than he thought his body could hold. Half his bells were gone and the other half were so drenched in a mixture of dirt and sweat that they could hardly make a sound. Old wounds had reopened and new ones were screaming with joy at the life they’d been given. He was in so much pain he couldn’t tell where one cut ended and another began.
It was fucking wonderful. He almost couldn’t concentrate from the sheer dumb thrill.
Grimmjow was in much the same state. He even had the same stupid grin on his face, half-hidden beneath that permanent one his mask made. It made Kenpachi chuckle.
He should come to the human world more often.
“Heh. Still standing, are you?” The blue-haired Hollow was leaning heavily against a broken tree. Kenpachi wiped the splinters from his artificially serrated blade.
“Can’t kill you sitting down.” His grin widened. “Shit, you have no idea how nice it is to do that.”
Grimmjow snorted. “Speak for yerself, shinigami. Least you’re allowed to fight whenever you fucking want to.”
Kenpachi stood a little straighter. He could feel his legs again now. He was ready for another round. “No shit. You Espaka can’t?”
The Arrancar shoved himself up as well. “Espada. And no, no one of your caliber.” He smirked and wiped some blood from the corner of his mouth, spitting to the side afterwards to clear the mud out. “I gotta start comin’ to the human world more often.”
Kenpachi slid his feet through the dirt with a wide smile. “I think after this I’m headin’ straight for yours.”
The clash of swords was loud enough to drown out the sound of their grunts, and then they were leaping away again, one to regain his footing and the other to twist his arm around and try again. Another nick in Kenpachi’s blade. He could almost hear it crying out in pain and exhilaration. Not that it mattered. It was here to fight and it would fight until it broke.
Or until Kenpachi broke. His reiatsu was about the only thing keeping him upright now, and he knew it. It made him tighten his grip on his sword and lunge again.
Grimmjow grinned and went for an opening, but Kenpachi closed it just in time to elbow the guy in that cheek bone thing of his. He staggered back with a pained snarl and the captain was on him, cutting through that tattered black collar of his, going straight for the jugular. A twist and a snap and Kenpachi was suddenly covered in even more blood, and some of it was his, because it sprayed over his lips and he knew what it tasted like. He gasped as he felt cold steel flick through the muscles in his side, and grunted when he caught Grimmjow’s zanpakutou with his hand to keep it from going any further. The Arrancar was holding Kenpachi’s with his palm. The pair grinned at one other, their faces inches apart.
“You know, you’re kinda cute for a soul-sucking bastard.” He glanced at the blue streaks streaming from the corners of the Hollow’s eyes and grinned. Grimmjow grunted.
“Afraid I can’t say the same. Or are you hidin’ something pretty under that fucked-up mug o’ yours?”
A chuckle. “Sorry. What you see is what you get.”
Another wild grin. “Too bad, shinigami, ‘cause you ain’t seen the half of me yet.”
The searing pain in his hand announced Grimmjow’s sudden withdraw as he twisted his sword free. Kenpachi used the opportunity to do the same, and frowned when he felt it scrape along hard bone. What the fuck, he hadn’t cut that deep.
Then the raw surge of reiatsu washed over him and he fell to his knees beneath its weight, all his strength going into his neck and shoulders as he struggled to lift his head high enough to see. Oh shit, this was fucking ace. He’d heard about this, even wondered if this guy had been some sort of exception. But no, he’d just been tough. Held out longer than Kenpachi had expected. Even that brat with the black Bankai would have trouble bowling these fucks over.
“I thought you shinigami taichou had more in you than that.” The leering voice was booming now, and Kenpachi could hear the sheer strength and power in it. His eyes grazed over this larger, whiter, obviously more powerful form and he chuckled again. This was so fucking awesome. He’d always wanted to go down with his own broken sword in his hand.
“An’ here I thought you Arrany-things saved the best for last. But shit, if you’re just gonna turn into another goddam Hollow, I’d prefer to cut those baby blues out of your head right now so I can move on to the next batch. Does five mean stronger, or was it seven?”
Grimmjow bared two sets of teeth in what could only be anticipation. Kenpachi dug his zanpakutou deep into the ground and struggled to his feet, his hand sliding down along the hilt. It was frayed and soaked in more bodily substances than Kenpachi knew he could leak. But it liked it. He couldn’t talk to it, but he could sense that much, at least.
“Well, Hollow, you got a great fuckin‘ deal chunkier, but I dunno about your speed. Show me what else you got.” He set his sword on his shoulder and cracked his neck. That reiatsu had put a fucking crick in it the size of a gatekeeper. Heh. He wouldn’t last a minute and he knew it.
Man, it was fuckin’ wonderful to be alive. He wondered if death would be the same.