epilogue. the end, as it begins

The Tenth Division takes him in and makes him one of theirs without hesitation, bypassing the Academy completely and throwing propriety out of the window.

Grimmjow doesn't understand this, of course, because he woke up in the Rukongai with nothing but a half-remembered name, surrounded by high ranking Shinigami.

The only thing that incident did was set the tone for the rest of his life.

Not that it's bad, per se. Just odd. Jumbled in a way that makes enough sense to him if he doesn't press. To him, there is a Before he woke up in a field, and an After. He doesn't recall any of the Before, so it's the After he focuses on. There is quite a bit of After to him already, more than enough to sink his teeth into.

They had given him a blade and made him meditate; given him an identity and asked him to fight.

What's a bit of bloodshed, when it isn't his blood?

He makes Fifth seat immediately, unsure of how he has become so skilled with a katana that has given its name as Pantera. Wielding it feels natural, the movements and reflexes ingrained in his bones from Before. He's more than proficient at hakuda and his shunpo outclasses nearly everyone in his division.

Fighting makes his blood sing in his veins. He forgets, when he is in that fog, that there is a Before and an After. In that state, there is just a Now and the Now is what matters.

If there is something more to the way the Lieutenant of the Sixth Division keeps trying to pick fights with him whenever he comes around, Grimmjow doesn't delve. He had a visceral dislike of the red-headed man on first sight but just chalked it up to the ridiculous tattoos.

(Grimmjow thinks he might have had one in the Before-there's a scar on his back that he can only see if he contorts himself a certain way. It's old and faded, with little black pigment left, but it strongly resembles a six.)

He only agrees to tea because it would be disrespectful not to.

Third Seat Yuna Tsukino is from an entirely different Division and ranks two seats higher than he does. She is also nobility, born into one of the Four Great Noble families and married into another.

Grimmjow is used to people taking notice in him. He isn't sure why-the blue hair might be part of it, the blood lust another. But neither of those things account for tea appointments with the Captain Commander, the way other Captain's greet him in passing, or the warmth the Fourth Division greets him with every time he's around.

Just like he never asked why there were so many Shinigami around when he woke up the first time, when he decided that the After had started.

He's never even met half of these people, and they know him. He's never put any thought into it, because that just makes his head hurt. He's much better at killing and smashing things to pieces.

The culmination of the Thousand Year Blood War is only ever obliquely referenced, when people do speak of it. But not around him.

Never around him.

He doesn't dwell on it. He already has paperwork piled on his desk that he doesn't completely understand, unseated division members who constantly want to try their hand at unseating him, patrols to lead. He has responsibilities; history has no bearing on those.

Even if he did know what happened in the Thousand Year Blood War, he's pretty sure it wouldn't explain why the Third Seat of an entirely different division wants to have tea with him at some fancy schmancy tea house in the middle of the Fourth District.

Which is where he's found himself at that moment, kneeling at a table across from Yuna in a tea house with his hands balled uselessly in his lap. He doesn't try to make light conversation, partly because he's never been good at small talk. The Third Seat is also ignoring him, working instead on paperwork she brought with her.

Even Grimmjow, for his poor manners, knows that that is rude.

He stews. Wants to squirm in his seat from sitting still for long with nothing to do. The silence is killing him. They're the only ones in the tea house, so he can't even start shit with any of the other patrons.

He's going to die in this tea house from idleness. It will be a slow death, creeping at him head on while he sits powerless to stop it.

Tsukino even had the audacity to leave her monster with his father so Grimmjow didn't even have a child to argue with.

Oh yes, he is ready and willing to sink that low.

One of the doors inside the tea house slides open and their server slips out. She moves like a ghost in a seafoam colored kimono, footfalls not even a whisper on the tatami floor.

Grimmjow watches her closely, because she is the only interesting thing to happen in the past ten minutes.

The woman stops a few steps away from their location, service tray held tightly in her hands. Her brown hair is styled in a bun on the back of her head, a few strands escaping their confinement to frame her thin face.

Yuna takes note of her immediately. "Right on time Kaori, excellent."

Her eyes are green, he notices when she gets closer. Green like late summer grass. He finds, suddenly, that looking at them makes his skin feel hot and clammy, so he looks down at her hands instead.

Hands tell many things about people. His hands, for example, tell anyone who notices that he's used to handling a sword with one or the other, and occasionally both. Third Seat Tsukino's are thin but strong, calluses worn into her left hand from the sheer amount of paperwork she's fielded over the years. While her left hand is steady, her right hand trembles.

The deep scars on the back of the woman's tell him nothing except, pay attention, you've seen these before.

But it's the unsure smile on her face that makes Pantera snarl, her, you protect.

thank you all so very much if you've made it this far. it's been five years, and quite a trip. everyone who has faved, subscribed, commented-thank you. thank you, thank you, thank you. each of those made every dark day a little brighter. since i started this fic, i've been placed on an anti-depressant, diagnosed with fibromyalgia and ibs, lost two friends to suicide less than a month apart, and had to put my oldest and dearest cat down. but i've also moved out of a highly toxic environment, got a dog, and have three new kittens, one of which is. pretty special, if you want to call 'i have no eyes and will still find a way to get into a shitload of trouble' special.

but i digress.