@kurosakilchigo / continued from here.
There's the hand at his back, stripping the fabric away from all the parts of him that haven't fully healed. Zangetsu tenses when he feels the air hit all his exposed and fleshy viscera, but doesn't so much as turn his head at Ichigo as he opens the bathroom door and struts inside. His wielder is exhaustingly fussy; it's no surprise that he'd come fretting after him.
Not that he minds. A small affectionate smile finds its way on his face as he starts stripping himself down, starting with the tattered belt holding up his pants.
"Grimmjow and I got a hold of each other. Went to Hueco Mundo on a whim, then found him and provoked him into an all-out fight. We went the full mile- Resurrection, horns, all the works. Then when we ran out of reiatsu, we thrashed each other in the sand until we couldn't move. It was a lot of fun!" Fun. The word takes a savage shape in his mouth, gleams in the sharps of his teeth as he smiles. He fondly remembers the sensation of reaming Grimmjow with his horns like a bull, feeling the way the bone punctured through the gristle before it snapped off the stem. The arrancar will be digging that little present out of himself for days, he thinks to himself with glee.
The sash drops to the floor. There isn't much left of his shihakusho left to take off after that. He lets the rest of it pool around his feet, exposing all the wounds he hadn't bothered to heal, wincing at the way stray bits of sand scrape at his flesh when his movement jostles them. Then he turns to Ichigo, giving his shirt a tug.
His eyebrows raise suggestively. "Gonna join me in the shower with all of this on?"
