feeling kind of bad, because I haven’t written a lot about Grimmjow :(( like, Ichigo obviously gets the majority of my attention, grimmichi is always there, but I’ve only ever really written one thing that could count as Grimmjow-centric. I need to do better.
a week has passed since I drafted this, and I finally know what to write about Grimmjow.
so, Grimmjow. fights Ichigo — sustains a lot of damage, gets attacked by Nnoitra — sustains even more damage, likely ends up burying himself in the sands of Hueco Mundo until his body stitches itself together, and promptly passes out.
but when he wakes up nothing is the same. maybe somewhere along the way Nel or Harribel and her Tres Bestias finds him and take him to the remains of Las Noches to get healed up. but that’s exactly the thing: Nel, not all the way herself yet, Harribel and that insufferable gaggle of lesbians of hers are the only ones that still remain. Aizen, Tōsen, Gin, other Espada, all of them are gone. and no matter how despicable he found them all, how their mere presence made his skin crawl, him borderline suicidal, and definitely homicidal, no matter all that, he mourns the loss.
Aizen’s out of some fucked up respect. Grimmjow hated him, feared him, sure, but he also saw Aizen as the one to grant him this strength he wields, the creator of the Sexta Espada, his God. obviously he wasn’t, considering what happened. or maybe Kurosaki was just more of a God than any man could ever hope to be. doesn’t matter, because Hollows don’t need gods, don’t need a deity to oversee their lives full of bloodshed and violence, so he lets that one go after a while. nothing to mourn in an oppressive wannabe god, trying to forge weapons out their souls.
the other Espada are harder. he hadn’t liked them, especially those below him. outright hated Ulquiorra and Nnoitra’s guts, grudgingly respected Harribel, tolerated Stark, avoided Barragan, but never liked them, they weren’t friends. yet despite all of that, it stung. they were his kin, they were there, they knew, he wouldn’t have to explain anything of what happened to them, they were familiar. all that he recognised was gone: Las Noches destroyed, every Arrancar, save for 5, wiped out, their “King” – hah, what a joke – dead or imprisoned or what-fucking-ever, it didn’t matter, not anymore. and that is what his issue was: waking up to realise he barely recognised the world around him.
this pushed him to search for what would feel familiar, feel like the Hueco Mundo he fell asleep in, the one he felt like he belonged. stupidly, illogically, orange hair and fierce amber eyes were what flashed in his mind immediately after he thought that. and no matter how dumb, no matter that every instinct in his body screamed to stay away from the creature that took down the one he thought to be untouchable, that’s what he went after. the asshole did promise him a fight.
only to be met with dull eyes that stared right through him.