Scratches

Ulquiorra Cifer stepped out of the shower and stopped to observe his naked body in front of the mirror. His face scrunched in a slight frown when his eyes spotted the long deep scratch that now adorned his right arm. And it was not the only one. Multiple scratches and cuts covered both of his arms and chest; he could even feel some more stinging on his back, a reminder of last night's "battle". It had been a harsh fight for power, control and domination, and though he had come out victorious, he had not escaped without a multitude of injuries. His frown deepened; there was nothing he despised more than seeing his usually flawless body covered with marks and bruises.

He left the bathroom, grabbing a fluffy white towel on his way out and ruffling his raven hair lightly with it and let it fall into place on its own. There was little to be done about his already messy hair anyway.

Still wearing nothing but the towel he was currently using to dry the excess water dripping down his back, he stepped into his bedroom. Walking towards the closet he chose his uniform for the day, not that there were many options to choose from and taking out one of his many white long jackets and baggy hakama. At least the uniform matched his tastes, it had after all been designed specifically to fit him. And he was especially glad that it was done so that not a milimeter of skin was left uncovered (unlike some people he knew) that would avoid the problem of having to explain the scratches and wounds to his so-called comrades.

Of course, the fact that he would have to put on all those clothes meant that the fabric would brush against the injured skin all day long. He glanced at the most noticeable scratch, the one that went from his right shoulder and all the way to his forearm, and grimaced. The wound stung even without touching it, and by the looks of it, and how deep it seemed to be, it would take a couple of days for it to scar and disappear. God knew for how long he would have to deal with the pain and the subsequent itching when all those scratches turned into scabs. This was going to be a long week.

But he was the Cuatro Espada. He had been stabbed through his stomach more than once, he could remove his own eye without flinching, he had had his bones broken and healed, he was not going to make a big deal over a couple scratches.

Slowly, his arm went through the sleeve of his jacket. He winced as the white fabric grazed the long, fresh injury. He could be the Cuatro Espada, but that didn't change the fact that those wounds stung a lot. Then the left arm… he had three small cuts there. He cursed under his breath, in spite of himself. Damn, it hurt. When the soft cotton touched his back, he grimaced again and bit his lip. He didn't even want to think of how many marks he had there, or how they looked like. Before zipping up the jacket, he glanced at a particular scratch, placed not-so-randomly across his number four tattoo. He glared. That better not leave a scar.

He finally put on his hakama and tied it with his black sash effortlessly. Except for some marks on his hips, his legs were mostly clean of wounds, which he was grateful for. It was already bad enough that he could not move his arms and upper body without brushing his wounds against his clothes, causing him to hurt all over, it would not help if he could not walk properly.

He tied his Zanpakuto to his sash and finally left the room using the best of his abilities to hide his constant pain and discomfort from his face. It was a good thing that he was already an expert at masking his emotions; it was not hard for him to pretend to be his usual self even if half of his body was in constant pain.

Attending to Aizen-sama's meeting had never been so gratifying. Namely because he didn't have to move. After a few painful shifts, he was able to find a position in which the scratches didn't touch the fabric, and was finally able to relax. For once, he really hoped this meeting lasted forever.

But no matter how much Aizen-sama liked to drag on his meetings, they had to end at some point and Ulquiorra found himself with the predicament of having to move again. He winced softly when the sleeve brushed against that long painful scratch on his right arm, and hoped nobody had noticed it. Luckily, everyone had already fled the meeting room, so his slight slip-up had gone completely unnoticed.

After four hours of withstanding the constant stinging of the multiple wounds, Ulquiorra pondered the possibility of going to Szayel Aporro to get something to nullify the pain, but he brushed off the idea immediately. The whole point of going through all this was so that nobody would ask about the origin of all those wounds. The fourth hated to explain himself, and he had no reason to do so. And of all the Arrancar in Las Noches the Octava was not one to know how to keep a secret nor could he stand to be kept in the dark about anything. He was certain that the pink-haired scientist would interrogate him until he revealed how he had gotten so many injuries in just one night and that was something he was not willing to disclose.

Ulquiorra decided that the best option would be to go back to his bedroom since he was doing himself no good just randomly wandering the halls and he had no missions for today. With the thought of taking off his jacket and putting and end to his agony the moment he stepped into his room, he lost track of where his feet were leading him, until he bumped face-first into a solid object, the fabric of his jacket rubbing against all the scratches and cuts in his arms and chest simultaneously. He gritted his teeth in pain, wondering how such simple wounds could sting so much.

"Oi, watch where ya're… ah! Ulquiorra!"

The emerald-eyed Espada rose his face to meet with the astonished blue eyes of Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. It was then that he noticed that the object he had collided with was not an object but the Sexta's broad chest, which his jacket left uncovered. Ulquiorra frowned. This man…

"I should say the same about you, Grimmjow, you are careless as usual." He replied, quickly composing himself.

He dusted himself off and took a step back, trying to arrange his clothes so that they would not cause so much discomfort.

"Seeing as you are here, I guess I should remind you," he rolled up his right sleeve, revealing the long deep scratch that was the cause of his agony. "I have already told you that I do not tolerate having marks on my body. If you keep ignoring such simple rules, I will cease to participate in any sort of activities with you."

Grimmjow snorted and tucked his hands in his pockets, taking a step forward towards the smaller male, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Oh yeah? 'Cos yanno'…" he cocked his head to one side, showing his long strong neck. "ya kinda marked me too…" and on his neck, he sported three round purple bruises, all of them about the same shape and size of a mouth.

Ulquiorra said nothing, he scowled, turned around and left, ignoring the smug grin on the other's lips.

Of course he had marked him, he thought as he stomped away from the grinning blue-haired Espada, trying to hide the pink blush quickly spreading on his cheeks, otherwise, nobody would know that that was his territory.

END

Oh, I finally found time to upload this one! Uni is eating my life away! D: Where did my joyful youth go to?

Anyway, I just wanted to mention that I got the idea for this weird story in an equally weird way. Just like Ulqui here, I was stepping out of the shower and I noticed a huge scratch on my arm (My cat is a bit crazy, so this is nothing new for me) and while contemplating at it (and how much it freaking HURT) I imagined Ulqui covered in scratches after a "rough night" (though his "cat" is completely different to mine *BRICKED*). Thus from such dirty thoughts this story was born.

I hope you liked it and as always I want to thank Tokyo Kitty for beta-reading this, she was a lot of help. Reviews are always appreciated and loved :D