Grimmjow had been fiending for a fade since the day he was told a fight could happen.
He was currently clashing with Unohana, his fang out like the wild beast he was, his Hierro protecting him from her brutal strikes. This woman was very, very dangerous.
Yet, Grimmjow was enjoying every single second of this. He wanted more.
He wanted the fade just as much as a human being needed to breathe.
Yes, he was this obsessed with the fade. The fade was him. He was the fade.
While he was laughing, smiling even as she cut him, and he kept rushing toward her, his Lesser Sin of Wrath was currently fighting Kenpachi.
Shawlong was around captain level baseline. He wasn't the strongest Lesser Sin—that was Lucius—but he was quite strong, being in the top three.
Which was impressive, considering the competition was very high.
The Lesser Sin would be seen effortlessly cutting Kenpachi.
"You are not my match," the Lesser Sin said.
Yet Kenpachi grinned like a madman.
This opponent of his could cut him and not get hurt.
Yes... he liked this.
"Come on, show me more!" the smoke demon of a man roared as he began slicing and dashing toward his opponent.
Shawlong, on his part, skillfully parried and blocked his blows, taking in a deep breath.
Shawlong clashed fiercely against Kenpachi, slamming the man into the floor, even kicking him several houses away.
Yet each and every time, Kenny stood back up, ready for smoke.
And thus, that was how their dynamic played out.
For the first few minutes, Shawlong dominated.
Kenpachi was forced onto the defensive, parrying the precise, elegant strikes of the Arrancar. Shawlong wasn't just strong—he was smart, adjusting to Kenpachi's movements with ruthless efficiency.
Kenpachi's grin only widened.
"Hahahahah! I haven't had this much fun in ages, Arrancar. What's your name?" the smoke demon said, smiling.
"Fine, I shall grant the dying man his wish. My name is Shawlong Koufang, Lesser Sin of Wrath, serving under the Sin of Wrath," the Arrancar declared.
"Kenpachi Zaraki, Captain of the 11th Squad," the man grinned.
"You are strong, very strong. It would be a shame if I held back," he said, smiling, looking up at the sky as if thanking the Soul King for this scrumptious meal he had been served.
Removing his eyepatch.
Kenpachi's Reiatsu went wild, a demonic grin stretching across his face.
"No more holding back. Don't you dare die on me," the man said with a maniacal grin.
Realizing that this man could kill him, Shawlong decided to release his blade.
"Awaken and Snip, Tijereta."
Shawlong's form expanded, his body stretching into something deadlier, sleeker—faster. His twin sickle-like blades gleamed under the shattered moonlight.
They clashed... for a solid ten minutes, going at it, exchanging blow for blow, bleeding, taking damage, and so on.
This was fun. Two beasts going at it at full speed.
Kenpachi... even started using... two hands to hold his sword.
Two. Hands.
This was looking like a high-diff fight.
As Kenpachi struck him, his blade bounced off Shawlong's skin. His Hierro was just too strong.
And then—
He struck.
A flash of steel—
A direct hit.
Shawlong's blade dug deep into Kenpachi's torso, carving through flesh and bone with terrifying precision.
It should have been fatal.
But instead—
Kenpachi laughed.
Blood poured from his wound, but the sheer joy in his expression was unmistakable.
"Heh... heh... HAHAHA! That was a good one!"
And then, with all his strength, he swung his sword down.
A single, earth-shattering blow.
Shawlong barely had time to react—
SLASH!
A huge slash wound appeared on his chest, causing blood to gush out everywhere. His Hierro had been adapted to.
Fuck.
Using his high-speed regeneration, his wounds began healing, yet they were healing slowly.
The fight had lasted ten minutes.
And Kenpachi loved every second of it.
Meanwhile
Grimmjow felt it.
The shift.
Unohana was pushing him back.
Every strike of her blade was precise, lethal. Every movement was calculated to kill him. She didn't waste anything.
She was unlike anyone he'd fought before.
"Tch." He wiped the blood from his lips, grinning as his body ached.
This woman...
She was a monster.
But he was Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.
A king does not bow.
"Fine, lady." He licked the blood from his lips, golden eyes burning. "Let's play for real."
And then—
His Sin Authority activated.
Furor Bestialis.
A predator's throne.
The moment he embraced his rage, something shifted.
Unohana felt it.
Her strikes weren't landing the same. The more they clashed, the more Grimmjow adapted. His movements became sharper, more precise—more dangerous.
He was learning.
The battlefield became a storm of blood and steel.
Yet, they kept clashing.
This was looking less like a fight and more like two people violently fucking... Ain't no way they were having this much fun in a fight.
Grimmjow bled.
And with every wound, his power surged.
He could feel it—the feral glee of battle consuming him, the thrill of the hunt.
Unohana slashed, and Grimmjow countered.
His Fangs of Retribution kicked in—her own force was returned twice over.
Blood splattered.
And he laughed.
"You are quite durable. Good. That means I can cut you down more," she said with an insane look.
"Not if I kill you first," he roared out.
This was basically an even fight.
And then—
She released her Bankai.
"BANKAI, Minazuki."
A crimson wave erupted from her sword, coating the battlefield in pure, liquid death.
The air itself felt thick, suffocating—as if the world itself was drowning in her bloodlust.
Grimmjow froze.
Not in fear.
In excitement.
"Finally."
And then—
His Zanpakutō ignited.
"Grind, Pantera."
His Resurrección exploded to life.
Kenpachi looked at the fade, and his stomach itched for the fade. Yet before he went—
SPLASH
Blood gushed out of his back.
Shawlong stood back up and looked at him before saying—
"Did you expect me to die so easily, Kenpachi?"
Instead of looking hurt by the damage, Kenny was just happy his fade was still alive.
Swinging the blood off his blade, he smiled.
"Good. You're alive... Let's fight!"
He grinned maniacally as his Reiatsu came crashing down, the limiter on his power very slowly being opened, one by one.
A/N