Anger

Grimmjow snarled in frustration. He wanted to break something. He wanted to cuss at someone until his throat was sore. Better yet, he wanted to throw someone across a room (hopefully breaking a bone or more) and cuss at them until they were afraid of him.

Where the hell was that fucking berry of a Shinigami when you needed a good fight?

His body was itching for a fight; for a pure, all-out brawl. Particularly with someone who knew his shit and wasn't a wuss. Like Kurosaki Ichigo.

There was just the fact that he didn't know where that orange-haired brat was (when did he get so good in masking his reiatsu?). He hadn't seen Ichigo since a week after he was healed. He had nothing to do and he did not want to spend another fucking minute near that shopkeeper guy. Ukulele? No, fucking instrument. Uchiha? Nah, fan. Unohana? No, girl captain. Urahara? Yeah. That guy. Fucking creep. Just like Aizen. Except Grimmjow despised Aizen's guts. Asshole.

Grimmjow prowled the streets once more, shooting death glares at people who dared to stare at his blue hair for more than a second. Kurosaki had explained that vibrant hair colours like his were bound to catch the eyes of some but it would quickly pass and no one would say anything about it. He had also explained that Grimmjow was to not lay a hand on a normal civilian just because they 'looked at him the wrong way.' Still. Grimmjow wanted to punch the faces of some people he saw.

Grimmjow cursed when someone's shoulder collided into his. Turning round, he clenched the boy's collar. "Why don't you watch where you're going, jackass?"

The boy bristled. "What the hell man?! If it's anyone's fault, it's your's! Wh-"

Grimmjow slammed his fist to the boy's jaw, effectively cutting him off.

Finally. A fight. Exactly what Grimmjow wanted – and needed.

"The fu-" The stranger didn't have time to recover. Grimmjow's second fist went flying into his face; however, before Grimmjow could continue, they were interrupted.

"Grimm…jow?"

He turned, loosening his grip on his victim's collar. Seeing his chance, the boy pushed Grimmjow away and run.

Shit. There went his hope of a fight. Grimmjow scowled before returning his attention to the man before him. He looked vaguely familiar.

Fuck.

Grimmjow did not remember this man's name. Ichi? No. Way too close to Gin and of course, Ichigo. What was it? Ishida? No. That was the whiny four-eyes. Shitfuckdamn. It started with an I, that was all he knew.

"Grimmjow right? I'm Isshin, Ichigo's father."

Isshin! That was it.

"Where's Kurosaki?"

"Ichigo? Hm? I think he went to visit a friend. Said something about some sandal-hat g-"

Grimmjow growled violently. He spent all that time looking for that orange-head when he was going to visit anyway?! Fuck.

Eyes narrowed, Grimmjow stalked off, pissed as hell.