Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo, not me, but I'm sure that you already knew that.

Warnings: Swearing.

Authors note: Hello! I've decided to venture into the bleach fandom, so this is my first time writing a bleach fanfic- actually that's a lie, I have quite a few lurking around on my laptop. I never know what to say in authors notes, so I'll just say thanks for taking the time to read. Hopefully I'll have something more interesting to say next time.

"Goin' soft on me now strawberry?" Renji teased with a smirk, his vision partially obscured by the long, crimson strands that hung loose from its usual braid, hanging over his shoulders and back whilst a few tendrils of clung to his cheek.

"In your dreams asshole," Ichigo retorted confidently as their blades clashed with a metallic clang, digging his heels into the ground as he absorbed the impact. He watched the fiery haired lieutenant with determination, his eyes narrowed as he studied the man like a hawk, watching in deep concentration as he anticipated the next attack.

Tightening his grasp on his zanpakutō, the orange haired substitute recoiled and swung his blade, another clash as Renji blocked the attack effortlessly with Zabimaru.

"No more beatin' round the bush," Renji demanded, raking a hand through his tousled locks in an attempt to pry the curtain of hair from his face. Ignoring the irritant sensation of perspiration dripping from his brow, the lieutenant displayed a grin, his muscles twitching in anticipation. "I want you to go all out, you listenin' to me?"

Eyeing the crowd that had gathered to watch the unfolding battle between the two shinigami, Ichigo resisted the urge to roll his eyes and frown in disapproval. It wasn't uncommon for the two of them to attract an audience during their intense sparing sessions, and Ichigo's battles with Renji had almost become a regular occurrence each time he visited soul society. Although he was flattered to have an audience watching in curiosity, the Kurosaki was beginning to find it slightly tedious.

Already aware of several familiar figures present amongst the small crowd, Ichigo resisted the urge to squirm upon feeling the intense gazes being emitted in his direction, burning into the back of his skull like a brand. Their last sparing session has been cut short by an irritated Kuchiki Byakuya, who had greeted his sweaty and bleeding lieutenant with a stern glare, his composure as calm and collected as usual, despite his obvious disapproval. As it had turned out, Renji had completely forgotten about the training session he had been obliged to attend along with the rest of the sixth division. The poor red head had suffered for his forgetfulness in the form of paperwork, finding himself abandoning his social life for the next week to sit in the quiet and dismal office signing forms for his beloved Captain. The head of the Kuchiki clan felt that it was his duty to constantly remind Abarai of the expectations placed upon him as lieutenant, claiming that it was his responsibility as Captain to make sure that Renji's responsibilities were promptly taken care of.

Despite Ichigo's mild dislike for the aristocratic noble, he found it rather amusing when he watched the man correcting Renji's mistakes- he'd noticed rather humorously that regardless of Byakuya's seemingly icy exterior, he was rather lenient to his lieutenant, which Ichigo found rather heart warming in a weird and twisted way. Although Byakuya constantly tried his best to put Ichigo in his place, the substitute could see that the Captain wasn't as heartless as he seemed.

He wondered if one day, the ice would finally begin to thaw.

"Are you sure Renji?" Ichigo asked, lips curling into a knowing smile. It was just like Renji to get carried away, especially in front of a crowd. Still, he wasn't about to deny the shinigami what he wanted. If Abarai Renji wanted a fight, Ichigo was certainly prepared to give him one, although he'd certainly do his best to avoid injuring him too much. It was a weakness of some sort for the Kurosaki- he always tried not to inflict too much damage on his opponents. He supposed that it was his father's medical roots within him that affected him so much upon witnessing the sight of blood. He'd often helped out at the clinic for Isshin, along with his sisters Yuzu and Karin. It was always a satisfying sight watching someone recover, not like the sinking feeling in his gut that was always present during a battle. Each time someone took a blow, bones crunching and crimson spraying as a result of him and his powers, Ichigo almost managed to feel guilty- almost.

Renji responded with an impatient growl, a flare of reiatsu emerging from his muscular form as he released a cry; his Zanpakutō began to morph into another shape, extending and evolving impressively into the skeletal figure of a snake.

The snake descended high into the air with an ear splitting screech, throwing its head back as it opened its jaws wide, revealing a pair of glistening sharp fangs.

'Show off,' Ichigo thought as he glanced up into the sky at Renji's daunting bankai, averting his gaze to the lieutenant who was now wearing a familiar looking fur cowl around his neck. The teenager decided truthfully that everything about Renji appeared to be boisterous and loud, including the looming figure of Zabimaru in bankai form. Ichigo didn't doubt for a second that those daunting fangs weren't as sharp as they seemed, and he certainly wasn't going to examine them up close.

It was a difficult match against the substitute and his more minimal looking bankai form. What Ichigo's smaller looking bankai lacked in appearance was certainly made up for in power and ability. The smaller and more condensed form of Zangetsu was refreshing for the shinigami, almost a different zanpakutō compared to its larger shikai form.

"You sure Renji?" The orange haired teenager teased, his flamboyantly coloured hair shining brightly beneath the powerful rays of the sun. "I'd hate to embarrass you in front of a crowd..."

As the snake emitted yet another deafening screech, the substitute shinigami extended his blade straight ahead of him with a single arm. "Ok, you asked for it."

As the teenagers spiritual pressure began to surge with an impressive flare, the cloth of his shikai tightened around his right arm like a coiled snake, his form temporarily concealed by a cloud of thick smoke, the ground beginning to vibrate beneath his sandaled feet.

"Quite impressive, isn't it?" Ukitake exclaimed in wonder as he watched the substitute shinigami gradually emerge from the cloud of smoke, wielding a slender black sword. Shunsui nodded languidly in agreement, lifting his straw hat marginally to peer at the unfolding battle between the two, lips curling into a small smile.

"I'll say. I've never seen hair that bright before..."

Jūshirō released an audible sigh, a frown threatening to tug at his lips as he averted his gaze to the relaxed brunette beside him, who was currently nursing a cup of sake in his right hand.

"And just exactly how many have you had?" the captain of the thirteenth division asked as he folded his arms loosely in disapproval.

"Not enough," Shunsui replied honestly, his grey eyes glittering in amusement.

The unmistakable sound of Ichigo's voice filled the air with a confident cry of "Getsuga Tenshō!"

"What I would give to be young again," Shunsui said, bracing himself as the force of the attack caused the earth to rumble beneath his feet, a large crack appearing in the ground where Renji had once been standing caused by the familiar black reatsu that pierced through the air in the shape of a black, crescent moon.

"Is that jealousy I hear Shunsui?" Ukitake teased, digging his heels into the ground as Ichigo released another cry.

The brunette didn't reply, instead choosing to take the opportunity to consume another mouthful of his beloved sake. Before Shunsui managed to raise the glass to his lips, his gray eyes widened in surprise when Zabimaru released another screech, causing the cup in his hand to shatter suddenly, hot sake dousing his favourite pink kimono, Jūshirō laughing at his misfortune.

"Ah, that's hot!" He said with a hiss, averting his gaze to the distant figure of Renji, eyes narrowing in discontent. "Go ahead and laugh at my misfortune Jūshirō, I don't mind..."

"Don't mind if I do," Ukitake replied with a soft smile, his long hair blowing in the sharp wind as another Getsuga Tenshō pierced the air.

'What a waste of sake,' Shunsui thought with a small sigh, wiping his hand on his uniform with a small frown. "Jūshirō, are you busy later? I was thinking we could-"

"My sincerest apologies Captain," the unmistakable voice of Nanao interrupted, her words laced with discontent, "but you're busy this evening."

"I am?" Shunsui asked dismally, knowing with great certainty that there would be no arguing with his lovely lieutenant, who proceeded to stand beside him with her arms folded in obvious disapproval.

"Yes Captain, very busy. In fact, I think you may be busy tomorrow evening too," she said with satisfaction, pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose as she cast a curious glance at the duelling figures in the distance, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the immense spiritual energy practically radiating from Kurosaki, who dodged another attack from the rearing head of Zabimaru.

"Captain, is it really too much to ask that you finish your work before becoming completely intoxicated?"

"It would be like taking a fish out of water," Ukitake said, resisting the urge to cough.

The unfortunate captain had only very recently recovered from another bout of illness, reluctant to spend any more time than necessary cooped up in the boring medical facilities of fourth division, staring blankly at the bland white walls wishing desperately that he could summon the strength to pry himself form bed and escape to the privacy of his own quarters, sitting by the lake and relishing in the luxurious rays of the warm sun.

Fortunately as always, Jūshirō had been graced with the privilege of Shunsui's company, something which never failed to put him in a pleasant mood after coughing away all of his energy. It had been this way for as long as he could remember.

Each time Jūshirō got sick, Shunsui paid him a visit without fail, brightening his gloomy mood with a charming smile and a lousy joke in an attempt to liven the atmosphere.

"Next time you have a hangover, I'll have no sympathy for you Captain," Nanao exclaimed, spinning on her heel and beginning a slow stroll back to the office.

"Awww, are you worried about me Nanao-chan?" Shunsui teased upon hearing a small huff in response. The lieutenant chose not to reply, lowering her head in embarrassment as t a faint blush dusted her cheeks.

"Don't tease the poor girl Shunsui," Ukitake uttered, watching the raven haired lieutenant flee hurriedly in embarrassment.

"But it's so much fun!"

"Speaking of hangovers, I think the last time I saw you hung over was after that graduation party at the academy... You really were intoxicated when they made you wear that-"

"Come on Jūshirō!" Shunsui pouted, giving his friend a playful shove to the shoulder in embarrassment. "That was a long time ago..."

"I must admit, it really did bring out the colour of your eyes-"

"Hihiou, Zabimaru!"

Ichigo muttered a string of curses under his breath as he dodged anther attack, tightly clutching the smaller form of Zangetsu. He'd never been so thankful for the effects of his own bankai. The shrinking of his Zampaktō meant that the substitute was able to doge Renji's attacks much more effectively, increasing his speed and agility. Unlike most bankai, Zangetsu became much smaller in form instead of creating a larger effect, such as Zabimaru's enormous skeletal snake form.

Sparring with the red haired lieutenant always turned out to be a pain in the ass for the substitute shinigami, because Renji's bankai was difficult to defeat in you weren't aware of its strengths and weaknesses. Fortunately for Ichigo, he'd observed it briefly on a number of occasions, giving him a slight advantage.

It was obvious to anyone that Renji's zanpakutō was not exactly ideal for close combat, a weakness that Ichigo intended to use for his own advantage, if he could manage to get close enough of course.

Releasing another Getsuga Tenshō, Ichigo began to contemplate his options. Damaging the snake was only a temporary distraction, which could buy him some time to try and get close enough to attempt a hit on the man. When Zabimaru's segments became damaged or destroyed, Renji was able to detach them and reform his Zanpakutō.

The Kurosaki resisted the urge to cry out in frustration as he blocked another attack with his sword, the gaping jaws of the fanged snake clashing against his black blade with an audible clang.

As the skeletal snake reared its head with a screech, Ichigo made his move, using his speedy advantage to land a strike on the smirking lieutenant. There was one thing that Ichigo's bankai possessed that could possibly defeat Renji, something which the heavily tattooed shingami was lacking- speed.

As the snake recoiled, Ichigo made a confident lunge for Renji, his lips curled in satisfaction as the tip of his blade nicked the man's broad chest, drawing a line of fresh blood.

However, the Kurosaki's satisfaction was short lived when a throb of discomfort flared in his left leg, causing him to stumble. A few months prior to his sparing session, Ichigo had suffered a nasty injury to the leg, courtesy of an irritating hollow that had seized the limb with its savage jaws. Despite healing rather nicely, the leg had been accustomed to aching from time to time, usually during cold bouts of weather or after strenuous physical activity.

It was only after he stumbled that the shinigami became aware of the ominous shadow looming over him, the familiar sound of a screech ringing in his ears.

He paled visibly in realisation, before uttering a curse.

"Shit."

As a glistening sharp fang plunged into his shoulder, Ichigo struggled to register the familiar leering voice that began to surface in his head as his consciousness began to fade, the cries of concern emitting from the crowd fading along with the excruciating pain emitting from the wound.

With a groan of confusion, Ichigo reluctantly opened his eyes, his brown orbs greeted by the sight of his bland inner world, the same towering buildings and clear blue sky looming over him.

"You should be more careful Ichigo," a voice warned, causing the shinigami to rise to his feet with a start, realising immediately that he was no longer in pain. Examining his shoulder briefly, he wasn't at all surprised to find that there was no wound marking his flesh. Instead, he could only feel a smooth expanse of warm skin beneath his fingertips.

"He could have killed you if it wasn't for me- you need glasses or something?" The hollow teased, his yellow eyes glittering in amusement as Ichigo's face displayed an irritated scowl, his eyes flashing with anger.

"Sorry for not having eyes in the back of my head," the teenager snapped, rubbing his throbbing temples as his head began to pound, brow furrowed angrily. "And I suppose it's too much for me to ask that you mind your own fucking business," he said, glancing around at the confines of his inner world, "since you never listen to anything I say-"

"That's not the way to talk to your knight in shining armour Ichigo," the hollow said with a smirk, his smile not faltering as Ichigo's hand grasped him tightly around the throat. He didn't flinch, not even as sharp fingernails dug warningly into his ghostly white skin, like daggers threatening to pierce his flesh. "You should relax king," he said calmly, unfazed by the teen that appeared to absolutely fuming with rage- or was it nerves? He could feel the slight tremor vibrating through the hand around his throat, so minor that it was almost undetectable- almost.

"Relax," he repeated, extending a white hand and seizing the teenager's wrist with long, cold fingers. "Play times over King. The real fight starts now."

"I'm not playing these games with you hollow," Ichigo spat venomously. "I swear I'll-"

Yellow eyes gleaming in amusement, the white clad figure released Ichigo's wrist instantly, recoiling as if he'd been burned. Seizing the shinigami by the chin, he stared mockingly into a pair of sharp brown eyes, laughter bubbled in his chest and emerged from his parted white lips.

"Well isn't that cute, King's trying to threaten me!" He teased, ruffling the head of flamboyant orange hair, unaffected by the livid teenagers piercing glare that was accompanied by a trademark scowl.

"I'll kill you," Ichigo seethed, releasing the hollow who proceeded to pace, encircling Ichigo like a hungry predator.

"I'm paralysed with fear," the hollow retorted in amusement, watching in satisfaction as the teenager took hold of his Zanpakutō with a fierce cry of determination, eyes filled with anger.

"Too persistent for your own good King," he said, raking a hand through the strands of soft, stubborn white hair with a weary sigh escaping his lips. "We go over this every damn time. You're not strong enough to defeat me, so quit trying already!"

"I'm not taking orders from a monster like you!"

Clutching a hand to his chest dramatically, the hollow hissed as if he'd been wounded, expression retreating into a false frown. "You trying to hurt my feelings King? Too bad I don't have any."

"If I'm supposed to be the goddamn King around here, cant you be loyal and do as I tell you just this once?! Stop interfering! "

"Don't be getting power hungry on me now King-"

"Getsuga-"

Before Ichigo could strike with an attack, the words seemed to lodge in his throat as the hollow suddenly vanished from sight, seemingly disappearing into thin air as the shinigami looked on, brown eyes widening in realisation; he froze at the unpleasant sensation of cool breath on the nape of his neck, followed by a spine chilling voice sounding in his ear with a teasing whisper, grinding through his ear drums like shards of ice.

The teenager resisted the urge to flinch as a cold hand came to rest on his shoulder, a bony finger slowly tracing the exposed flesh on display- Ichigo felt something tighten in the pit of his stomach as a pair of white lips ghosted against the shell of his ear.

"You're a coward King," the voice taunted, white fingers exploring the teens smooth jaw line curiously, agonisingly slow.

"I'm not-" the Kurosaki began, the words soon dying as they left his dry lips.

"You can't lie to me King," the firm voice insisted in his ear as a thumb brushed against his cheekbone, causing him to flinch beneath the icy touch, unprepared for the sudden intimacy. Ichigo felt as though he was rooted to the spot, frozen as cold palms and fingers trailed across his skin and black uniform, paralysed by touch.

He felt humiliated, pathetic that he could be reduced to this.

He could feel his toes curl as the white hollow buried his face in the crook of his neck and inhaled with a grin.

"I can smell it-" the hollow insisted, a bony finger slowly tracing the teenager's spine. "Fear," he said confidently, pausing at the cord of the shinigami's ominous black uniform, a striking contrast against his deathly pale skin.

"Stop," Ichigo insisted, flinching as a cold hand placed itself on the back of his neck, before coiling loosely around his neck, a calloused thumb brushing warningly against the prominent lump in his throat. "I said-"

"I'm going tell you something King," the hollow said, resting his chin on the shingami's shoulder, black sclera and yellow irises eyes narrowed in determination, "and you're going to listen."

"Why should I listen to you?" Ichigo retorted sourly with a bitter frown as he tried to ignore the increasing pressure around his neck as the hand began to tighten its icy grasp.

Ignoring the teenager's question, the hollow released him with a rough shove, glancing up once again at the expanse of blue sky and the cluster of dull white clouds.

"You and me King, we represent two half's of the same soul," he said, raking a hand through his tousled white hair. "I represent your purest instincts King. You live to protect, and I live to-"

"Destroy? Kill?"

"Survive King... You noticed how I've only become physically dominant when you've been in danger King?" the hollow asked, temper beginning to flare as his sandals slapped loudly against the dull wall of the skyscraper.

"I wish you wouldn't," Ichigo spat back, returning the hollows glare with equal intensity. "I was fine without you!"

"You'd be dead without me King! Was you planning on walking off that fang through your shoulder? If I hadn't of taken over, he'd of smashed your empty skull into the ground!"

"Well maybe if I bang it hard enough it might shut you up for good you irritating piece of shit-"

"Getsuga Tensho!"

Renji spun quickly on his heel, dodging another attack as the piercing blade of Zangetsu narrowly skimmed his cheek.

Cursing the fiery red curtain of hair threatening to obscure his vision, the lieutenant had just enough time to rake a calloused hand through the bright strands before a partially masked Kurosaki lunged again with great power and intensity, Renji unable to avoid the kiss of steel against his glistening chest. The blade grazed the skin with a sharp slice, a crimson spray emerging from the wound and with a pained hiss, Abarai blocked the next attack, his arms protesting from the strain as blades clashed, locked together in a battle for dominance.

With a narrowed gaze, Renji felt something knot and wreathe in the pit of his stomach as he studied the substitute shinigami displaying a satisfied smirk upon seeing the blood pouring from the fresh wound.

As the lieutenant felt the sensation of warm blood trickle across his flesh, he couldn't help but feel alarmed at the sight before his very eyes- Ichigo's usually warm brown eyes had become a piercing yellow, surrounded by a daunting black. Perched over his right eye was what appeared to be a mask, partially concealing his face, pure white with the addition of several red lines and a black marking around the eye, with what also appeared to be tooth shaped fragments curled upwards in a maniacal, broken grin.

The power Ichigo had was surreal- He'd managed to wound Renji without so much as seemingly breaking a sweat; the sudden surge of reiatsu had appeared from nowhere, the teen wielding such force as if it were nothing, whilst some spectators in the crowd were struggling to stay standing on their feet as if they were being drained of energy.

Abarai realised with unease that they weren't just sparing anymore.

'Well, I did tell him not to hold back,' he thought dismally with what could have only been regret, a shiver racking his spine at the sight of his friends broad, wide toothed grin.

"Ichigo," he called, digging his heels into the ground as he battled with his sword, a bead of sweat dripping from his brow. "What is this?"

"None of your concern," an unfamiliar voice replied.

"Ichigo, what the fu-"

"Ichigo?" the hollow asked in slight amusement, with a slight grimace of disgust. "I won't be compared to the likes of him-weak."

Before Renji could blink, Ichigo disappeared from view, the great pressure that had once been battling against his Zanpakutō vanishing instantly; he lowered his arms, the muscles protesting with a dull ache. For a second, it was as if the substitute had evaporated, disappeared out of thin air without a trace, that was until the eerie sound of maniacal laughter pierced his ear drums.

Instinctively, he spun on his heel, averting his concentration to the direction in which the sound had appeared to be emitting from- he saw nothing.

There was another mocking laugh that sounded as if it were coming from close behind him, and Renji quickly jerked his head, ignoring the ache in his neck.

He scowled. Was Ichigo playing games with him?

"Gesuga, Tenshō!"

The familiar flare of reiatsu had come hurtling towards him much quicker than he had anticipated, catching him almost completely off guard as he released a surprised yelp. With a hasty dive, the red head managed to remove himself from the path of the attack, clinging tightly to his Zanpakutō as it hauled past him with such great intensity that he could almost feel the black crescent moon slice through the air like a knife through hot butter.

He continued to observe through a pair of wide eyes as a large surface of rock he'd been perched in front of became reduced to nothing but dust, crumbling to pieces and into a haze of smoke that gradually filled the air, obscuring his vision along with long strands of irritating crimson coloured hair that shadowed his masculine features, clinging to his cheeks as perspiration dripped from his tanned skin.

Renji realised bleakly that if he hadn't of hauled himself out of the way in time, the large expanse of now non existing rock would have still been intact. It would have been him reduced to pieces, like a like road kill that he'd seen in the world of the living; he could already imagine his Captain's displeasure upon hearing that he'd need a new lieutenant, the bloody corpse returned to the office in many gory pieces. He'd hate for the Kuchiki to find out that his tattooed lieutenant had lost his life because he'd been beaten by Byakuya's favourite Ryoka and his small bankai...

"Ichigo!" Renji called in a drained tone, his dark eyes examining the clearing dust for the familiar orange haired figure when a voice in his ear made him flinch.

"Call me that once more and I'll make sure that you'll never be able to talk again," the ominous voice threatened, retreating into the unsettled dust as Renji spun clumsily on his heel, clutching Zabimaru tightly as the snake emitted a deafening screech.

"Don't fuck with me!" Renji yelled in frustration.

"Feisty one aren't you," the hollow noted, emerging from the settling dust. "Such a shame that your brain isn't as large as your mouth, shinigami!"

"Howl, Zabimaru!"

The snake reared its head with a feral cry, plummeting towards the ground at lightning speed, heading for its brightly haired target with wide, gaping jaws.

As the bloodied fangs bore down upon him, the substitute didn't flinch, not even as the bloody wound upon his shoulder began to twinge in discomfort ; the shinigami grasped Zangetsu tightly with both hands. As Zabimaru crashed into the dry earth, a confident huff sounded from Abarai's left- there, standing in a bloodied and torn black uniform was the masked substitute grasping a white, blood coated fang in his hand, admiring it with satisfaction through a pair of yellow eyes as if it were some kind of trophy. A bleeding graze adorned his right cheek, and the shinigami wiped the weeping wound with the back of his hand, a smile perched upon his lips at the sight of smeared crimson staining his tanned skin.

Abarai watched as that piercing gaze looked straight back at him, boring into his eyes as if it were gazing right deep into his very own soul.

It was like gazing into the eyes of a stranger.

The loud, tousled hair and defined jaw line unmistakably belonged to Ichigo, however then there were the eyes, not human at all.

The long fang fell to the floor with an audible thud as the substitute released a low growl of irritation, closing his eyes as his limbs began to jerk uncontrollably, a hand jolting towards the mask perched upon the left side of his face. The limb began to shake from the tension as the hollow fought for dominance, restraining Ichigo's influence with a sudden blast of reiatsu.

"Renji," Ichigo's voice emerged from his lips forcefully, and for a brief second Renji could have sworn he saw those eyes flicker with a familiar warm brown before reverting back to a toxic yellow. "I-"

The hollow released an angered snarl as he fought against the second soul residing in Ichigo's muscular form.

"Ichigo-"

"He's not strong enough to come through," the hollow declared, the convulsions racking his limbs gradually beginning to subside. "Your reigns over King," he said ambitiously, "time to make way for the next in line!"

"You-wont-hurt-him," Ichigo protested, voice emerging from his lips in a venomous tone.

"Funny way of showing your gratitude Ichigo. If it weren't for me, that snake would be flossing you out of its teeth by now!"

"Who- What are you?" Renji asked sourly as the hollow began to smirk, laughter bubbling from his chest as he licked the blood on his cheek with an eager tongue. He began to inch forward steadily, sandals sounding against the dry dirt as he grasped Zangetsu in one hand, raking a bloodied hand through his hair with the other.

"I don't have a name," the hollow replied, restraining Ichigo with a shiver, "but you can call me your worst nightmare."