Warning: Characters within this story will appear OOC, so no flames! if you dont like the idea, then i would highly suggest you don't read. Bleach is owned by Kudo Tite, and Shonen Jump. The only people I own are possible future OCs.

Enjoy!

"The Price of Happiness:
Chapter One;
Left Behind"

The room was dark and old. A room; that Aizen left behind out of seeing no use for it; left its proud white stone to age brown, and its even architecture was jagged, crumpled, cracked, and in some areas, demolished. The brown-colored floor had a strange design etched into it with more new, white stone. It appeared to be a spiderweb, with one sentence carved into the middle: Para Siempre en Batalla Gloriosa (Forever in Glorious Battle).

It was just the four of them, sitting in a circle, and their eyes mixed of several emotions. Here, Szayelapporo, Grimmjow, Nnoitora, and Tesla sat, their eyes fused with many things; guilt, humiliation, worry, and wonder all swerved within their eyes, and no one dare spoke about it. The events that had occurred in the past few years up until the past few hours left all four in a state they couldn't even describe...

- 24 Hours Ago: Combat Room

It was in a different training hall. Grimmjow, of course, was beating the shit out of anybody he could challenge. He enjoyed the rush of battle, and he didn't care if he was killing anybody, he just cared that the stupid weak girls watching in fear got rid of the remains; had to have more room, otherwise he'd have to clean it up. Why bother with the work he didn't have to do?

Nnoitora was watching from the balcony, enjoying the pure bloodshed that the idiots were getting, and enjoying every minute of their pain. He didn't care if they were weak; a battle to the death was so invigorating; he just had to see it! The rich crimson coming out their veins; the bones cracking at horrendous volume; the being twisted and pulled off in abnormal ways, and his favorite; the screams of agony from the victims forced to endure it. Yeah, he was enjoying himself...

Tesla was with him, of course, wanting nothing other than being able to follow his master. He watched the battle intently, as well, analyzing Grimmjow's tactics, and staring in complete awe at his strength. For just a moment, he believed that Grimmjow could defeat Nnoitora before completely throwing it aside. Not once had the Sexta came close, and he even watched their most recent battle. Nnoitora had given him no mercy, and if it wasn't for Aizen applauding them and ordering Grimmjow to seek medical treatment, he was positive the lower ranked Espada would die.

"Are we enjoying ourselves?" A familiar voice asked. Both heads on the upper balcony turned to see the Octova Espada, smiling as his glasses shined in the lighting of the room, and his pink hair moving swiftly as he approached. Tesla bowed to him, slightly, while Nnoitora spat at him. The Quinto couldn't remember the last time he talked to Szayelaporro at all. "Hmph! Whatever happened to the Nakama?" He asked, bluntly, acting hurt that he was ignored.

"I don't know how to explain that, Szayelapporo-sama." Tesla trailed off, unsure of what he could say. The subject wasn't exactly one they enjoyed touching. In truth, the last time they had even spoken of it was three years beforehand, and they hadn't touched it since then. He did question the events, himself, but he never spoke it aloud because of Nnoitora; afraid he would be angered should he speak of it.

"I'll tell you what happened." Nnoitora said, his agitated voice no higher than a whisper. He stood straight before turning around, giving Szayel a look that mixed of frustration and annoyance. "It was never a Nakama! We called it that because we thought that a little runt of an Espada could make us feel happier, even though we hallows aren't meant to have hearts. What we saw in it..." He paused taking in a few deep breaths, trying not to get emotional about it.

Both Tesla and Szayel knew how passionate Nnoitora was, back then. He enjoyed every minute he had with his 'nakama.' Not one second did he feel frustrated with them, or believe that a battle would ever lead to them separating. They knew the former Octova, at the time, enjoyed every waking moment of it, due to the fact he didn't feel like he was fighting for himself, but for something he cherished, and he still cherished the memories. To Szayelaporro's knowledge, however, he knew the minute it ended had crushed the mantis' being.

"What we saw in it wasn't real. We saw a little kid reach out a hand while the four of us felt alone, in some way, and we accepted it because he gave us feeling, again. Then said kid threw it in our faces; said it never happened, and told us we were trash he would happily throw away. Those three years of Nakama ended because of him." The Quinto told them, trying as hard as he could to repress the sadness beginning to choke his very breath. How he hated to think about it...

Grimmjow's fight had just made it to a close. The Sexta had begun to dust off his pant legs, smirking happily at his work. He loved fighting; loved it more than he did killing. That was simply because a kill made the fight end, and the person surviving meant it would start back up. Even still, he had to kill weaklings; they're not worth fighting a second time. If not for that, at least to his own thoughts, Grimmjow thought that he might be a bit more merciful. This, he couldn't help but snicker at. "Yeah, right." He thought in his usual arrogance. Like that was ever gonna happen.

"Are you finished?" A cold, melancholic voice questioned keeping a smooth monotone. All four left in the room looked ahead and saw their superior; their Cuatro; Ulquiorra Cifer. The sight made two of the four glare, put one in slight shock, and the other in wonder. What was he doing here? Ulquiorra had never went down to this facility; specifically because it was for all lesser arrancar as well as their superiors. He didn't want to train with trash, so he trained with his superiors in the likelihood so he could keep an acceptable level of strength and get stronger, should he need it; last time he was down here was years beforehand.

Naturally, Grimmjow wasn't going to take whatever bullshit the Cuatro was ready to give him, so he got to the point. "What the hell do you want?" He yelled at him. Grimmjow had only seen the Cuatro in the room when he was a child. He was rather skilled, even for being a little more than five years younger than him, and still was, considering his current rank. However, seeing Ulquiorra down here made no sense; there was no reason for him to even step in.

The Cuatro stayed silent, ignoring Grimmjow's question, and beginning to walk toward the head of the room where there laid several indents within the wall by the strongest of fighters. The Sexta remembered when he put his in; symbolizing he had worth to him for Aizen, no matter how much he hated him. He also remembered that Ulquiorra had put his in on the same day he did; the pale man was only seven years old...

Ulquiorra knelt down close to the wall, and tracing his hand on the large and deep slash that he had put in almost precisely nine years before coming the next day. He smirked to himself; the day he had done this was the first real time he had ever felt strong, or a greater form of self confidence. The thought was rememberable, for it was also when he he first proved strength to Aizen, as well; that thought made neutrality return to his features.

He stood up, turning to face Grimmjow with cold, yet somewhat confident eyes. This left them all confused; they couldn't even recall the last time he had allowed any form of emotion to rise to his features. The idea he had led to one too many questions, that they already knew would be hard to answer.

"Do you remember, Grimmjow?" He questioned. The teal-haired man gave him a look of confusion. What the hell did he mean by 'remember'? Ulquiorra wasn't somebody who focused on the past unless he saw it necessary, and that was for orders from Aizen. So what was he bringing up? "I believe you recall the day we placed our marks here; you were assigned as Noveno the next day while I was being tried for a probable Fraccion." That, he recalled quite well, for he watched his current superior's trials the following day, shortly after being promoted. "This room has other significance. Six years ago, I showed you that."

He thought it over before growling. How could he forget the first time they ever fought? The younger man was three ranks ahead, at the time, and Grimmjow didn't like the fact a nine-year old was his superior. What he also remembered was how different Ulquiorra was then compared to now. Why would he ever think about his childhood when it was thrown away, and kept that way?

He didn't get much time to think it over. "Your words were that there was no way that you would accept a child as your superior." Ulquiorra stated, unsheathing his zanpakuto. "We had fought that one time to allow the other to see strength. Perhaps you would like history to repeat itself?" He inquired.

Now they understood why he was here; he wanted to fight Grimmjow again. While the Sexta agreed with confidence, unsheathing Pantera, the other three couldn't help but wonder why Ulquiorra had challenged him. Normally, he'd have to be provoked as to do as much as to raise a hand against an opponent, and would also ignore these types of challenges from the Sexta, yet here he was, switching roles, and willing to fight with more strength than he saw necessary. For what possible reasons did he have?

They watched the fight, and what they saw they saw was shocking. Grimmjow was fighting with his usual tactics, however, the Cuatro had averted back to an older style that he hadn't used in a long time. A slash at him led to a block then a kick. A punch simply led to an uppercut. A kick led to a dodge. However, not once had Ulquiorra tried attacking with his zanpakuto. It was something so very unusual when they knew the fight could have been over with a simple sonido and a deep slash in the abdomen or chest. That's how it was whenever he had his zanpakuto out.

The battle lasted for hours, and Ulquiorra still hadn't changed his tactics. The three watched in complete dumbfounded shock. This was unlike what they were so used to seeing within the Cuatro. He would have been finished by now, simply because he never wasted his time with 'trash' for this long. Even as Ulquiorra finished, they were surprised with how much mercy he had given the Sexta.

He wasn't bleeding at all, but there were a good number that left him plenty sore. He didn't understand why Ulquiorra had fought the way he did, but sure enough, Grimmjow wouldn't be answered by the Cuatro. The raven-haired man simply sheathed his sword and left the room, quietly, while the others tried to contemplate his reasons as to avert to his old, merciful battle style. He hadn't used it in Kami-sama knows how long.

Either frustrated or having given up on finding the answer, the four retired for the evening to go to sleep. No use trying to find an answer they wouldn't get...

The next morning, there was an Espada meeting immediately after breakfast hours. People showed up to the meeting room in an orderly fashion, and all had sat down to allow it to begin; almost everybody, that is...

When Aizen walked in, he looked at the empty chair across from Grimmjow, where a certain Cuatro would normally sit, only to find it empty. Everyone was actually very curious. The fourth ranked Espada never missed a single meeting unless it were under extreme circumstances; not even medical conditions would keep him down unless it were that severe. So where was he?

"Has anyone seen Ulquiorra, this morning?" Their leader questioned. Everyone began muttering; could you blame them? This wasn't anything usual, in fact, far from it. Was Ulquiorra running late? Did he oversleep? All these questions came up, but no one had an answer.

"Last time I saw him was yesterday morning, after breakfast." Gin started for them.

"I saw him for an hour in the afternoon, but I didn't see him at dinner." Hallibel added. It's not like she wasn't used to their sparring sessions, nor was anybody else. If Ulquiorra followed his usual schedule, then there was just something he was attending to in order to ensure the meeting could go without any form of disturbances.

"Yeah, but I didn't see him after dinner; he skipped out on our evening spar before bed." Stark threw in. It wasn't a thing like the Cuatro to do so, for he relied on Stark to help with his training so he would never become weak.

Grimmjow's eyes widened at the Primera's words. He was right, after all; Ulquiorra was fighting him the night before. The realization just came to the Octova and Quinto as well, then it soon came into questioning why Ulquiorra changed his usual routine, as such. Although slightly taken aback by the fact, Grimmjow spoke up. "He was fighting me in one of the training rooms, in Quantum B." He told the ex-shinigami, truthfully.

Aizen's brow rose. "And what was he doing down there?" He questioned, curiously. Ulquiorra would never be caught dead within that part of Las Noches, unless he was taking some form of short cut to get to the throne room, or if he was required to bring one of the lesser forward so they could be tested to become numeros; even then, it was rare.

The Sexta didn't know what to say, simply because he was up half the night trying to figure that out. "I ask him, but he wouldn't answer. All he did was challenge me, and we fought." He answered, truthfully.

Tousen stepped forward. "He challenged you?" He questioned, confused. The Cuatro was never one to do so unless it was ordered of him. Grimmjow gave him a straight face, looking at the man through his strange glasses, nodding slowly. "Why would he bother?" He asked, not seeming to believe the idea.

He didn't know how to answer, but that didn't stop him from yelling at Tousen. "How the fuck should I know? The guy just went up and did it, not even bothering to leave an explanation!" He argued.

This is where Szayel decided to step in before he was assigned to fix the walls to the meeting room, again. "If I may, Aizen-sama." He said, standing up. They all turned towards him. "Grimmjow's telling the truth; I laid eyewitness to the fight, and treated him, afterwords." He told them, only half lying. There was no way he was going to admit Ulquiorra averting to an old battle style, simply because he knew it had meaning. That meaning was for the four of them to see, and if the Cuatro had spoken, he probably would have ordered them to not speak of the battle. They just needed to figure out why...

Nnoitora also stood. "Yeah! Tesla and I were both watching, too; fucker was holding back way too much!" He complained, crossing his arms. It wasn't like he was lying; Ulquiorra had used that technique so that way he'd never hurt anybody he didn't want harmed, when in truth, he was able to do so much better, and had even proved it. The idea of him using it frustrated the Quinto to no end...

"I see." He said. "I suppose we will hear his excuse when he shows up." Their leader said, taking his seat.

The meeting lasted for three hours, and even towards the closure, Ulquiorra hadn't made an appearance. Everyone was very confused when they left, including the three who last seen him. What the hell was going on? This was beyond unlike Ulquiorra; to be late was rare, but to miss a meeting without an explanation was just not like him. They had to find the Cuatro so they could get an explanation.

Just as they were about to separate to go about in search, a certain blond ran forward. "Noitora-sama, Grimmjow-sama, Szayelapporo-sama!" Tesla called, dashing forward in a massive spring with a folded paper in his hand. The three stopped and stared at him, wondering what the hell he could want that was so important. "Look!" He told them, tiredly, handing them the sheet of paper.

Nnoitora swiped the sheet of paper out of his hand, and unfolded it. All three stared at it. On the sheet of paper was a drawing of a spider web with an old phrase that they all knew so well written within it: 'Para Siempre en Batalla Gloriosa.' In the top corner, in Gothic handwriting, read something else. 'To: The Champion, the King, the Genius, and the Servant,' while in the bottom corner, it read, 'From: The Chosen.'

All of them knew the symbol on the page referred to their old training room, which they hadn't been in in years, and the titles were all code names that they gave themselves. Nnoitora was the Champion, Grimmjow was the King, Szayel was the Genius, Tesla was the Servant while the Chosen was none other than their missing Cuatro. "Where did you find this?" The Quinto demanded, enraged.

"I was finished preparing to meet you, as we do after every meeting, and I found between the seems of my bedroom door as I opened it." He explained, truthfully.

They were all surprised. In earlier years, they used this type of messaging to tell the others to meet in said room, for private sessions, or to hang out, and if there wasn't a time on it, everyone listed were to go to said room, immediately. The fact Ulquiorra averted back to this assured all four of them that there was something going on, and that Aizen is to never know about it. In a hurry, they Sonido-ed to the old room...

When they got there, they didn't see Ulquiorra, or anybody, like they'd expect whenever coming down there. What they did find was surprising; a hunting knife whose hilt was emerald, and whose handle was decorated with string consisting of gold, purple, teal, and mint green. Grimmjow had crafted him the knife when he was a kid, and he decorated the handle to show that as long as the string was there, they would always be Nakama; the fact the string hadn't moved and that the knife wasn't thrown out made them all wonder if the Cuatro had ever really thrown the idea itself away.

The knife was stabbed into the center of the web, and it was holding another sheet of paper. The Octova removed the knife and handed hit to Tesla before standing, and unfolding the paper, soon reading the words aloud.

"'Dear Nnoitora, Grimmjow, Szayel, and Tesla,

I know that you all have plenty of questions; questions that you believed I wouldn't answer. Well, I have answers for you now, and everything written here is nothing but the truth! I know that for the past three, soon to be four years I had kept you in the dark. That's because I had to protect you from Aizen; the sadistic bastard had threatened me with your lives if I didn't put on a mask that you couldn't break through. However, in doing so, I doomed myself into being his personal toy that he could mess with whenever he wanted. It had lasted for too long, I just couldn't take it anymore! I had to find a way to end it!

So, I decided to choose a day to see you all; to take a chance as to tell you there was something going on without saying much for words; I did so with reminding Grimmjow of the past and fighting him the way I desired to do so, for years, so that I could never come close to killing him. Shortly after I left, I had already a sheet prepared so that we could meet; it was only a matter of waiting for Tesla to go to sleep that I snuck it into the crack of his door. I then returned to my room, wrote this, and got out my old knife before returning here. I placed this final message to you with this object to tell you the truth.

I'm sorry I didn't tell you about this when it happened, but I was so scared, and I still am. Please understand, though, that not once had I stopped worrying about what would happen to you; my Nakama. I didn't want to hurt you, or throw you away, and I still don't, but I already can't take staying here, and I can't bare looking at you and telling you what happened. You're not trash; I do care about you, but I can't live another day here, where all the pain is. I'll probably never see you again...

Goodbye, maybe forever,
Ulquiorra (aka: Ulqui-chan)'"

Szayel trailed off at the end, covering his mouth in utter shock. Nnoitora was just as surprised, and perhaps more so, but soon found his mood depressing at just hearing the letter. Tesla was in a similar condition, his mind drawing at a blank as to what could have happened. Grimmjow was just getting angry with himself. How could not see it? ! People don't change overnight, and Ulquiorra took those steps very quickly. He should have been able to see the pain that he was going through, but yet he missed it.

- Present

They had stayed there for hours, and even still, these emotions that the Cuatro unlocked years before, the ones they weren't shamed of then, they had been trying to repress with all of their might, however the attempts were all halted as one question came up within their mind. "What happened to you, Ulquiorra?"

finished! i hope i didnt make it too ooc for ya, but i kinda had to in order to make the plot line.

ato shato,
~ K. Fang-sama