A/N: Bleach is not mine, it belongs to the great Tite Kubo. I make no money from this.
This is a quick one-shot I made for a friend. Hope you enjoy. I'm not a fan of GrimmNel, but this was a special request. Let me know what you think.
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Her hair is green; not the dark forest green of Ulquiorra's eyes, but a seaweed green that reminds him of mermaids and beaches. He doesn't understand why he thinks about the colour of her hair.
Grimmjow sinks deeper into the uncomfortable chair, watching her from the corner of his eye as they wait for Tier to come out of her meeting with the Seritei representatives.
Fuck, Nelliel's child-form is annoying. He has never been around children, and Tier tells him he should be more patient with Nelliel, but he knows better than that. Nelliel Tu Odelschwank is a cold killer, and the former Tres. Sometimes Grimmjow thinks that she is fucking with all of their heads, pretending to be a brat so she can bring down their guards and attack when they least expect it.
Child or not, she is one more step in the ladder above him that he needs to climb to take over Las Noches. Attacking the bitch in child-form would probably be his best bet in getting rid of her, Grimmjow thinks, as he watches her flip the page of her book. When she is in her little body, sometimes he fantasizes about picking her up by her hair and drop-kicking her until she lands in the World of The Living. Stupid brat.
Her woman form is even more annoying. She goes all quiet and does not reply to his attempts to provoke her. Instead, she sighs in exasperation, wrinkling her nose as if she smelled something foul. Then, she walks away, those giant breasts bouncing with every step... Fucking bitch, ignoring him like he was some stray cat.
"Stop staring," she mutters, without looking up.
"I'm not staring," Grimmjow shoots back. "Your name is stupid. What kind of name is Nelliel Tu Odelschwank, anyway?"
"You're one to talk, Grimmjow Jaegerjacques," she replies tonelessly.
"I'm going to defeat you and become the new Tres, you know," Grimmjow tells her, hands on hips.
"Uh huh." Her tone is that of polite disinterest. She turns away, still engrossed in her little book, exposing her back to him, the ultimate insult. Is he not a threat? Does she not take him seriously?
Growling, he gives in to his inner jaguar, pouncing on her. The tables are turned rather quickly, though; he finds himself on his back, her knee to his throat, and, to add insult to injury, she has not looked away from her book. He hisses at her, unable to move.
"Do not give me a reason to end you, Grimmjow." He sees her eyes for the first time, clear greens and browns peeking over the edge of the book, and for some reason, (aside from her knee), his throat constricts. What the hell- he twists out from under her, kicking that damned book away, until she is lying flat under him, blinking up.
"That was my book," she says, emotion in her voice for the first time. He smirks at her.
To his horror, her eyes fill with tears as the woman's figure morphs into the child, the cropped shirt becoming a nightshirt. "W-w-why'd ya throw m-my b-book?" she wails, bursting into tears. She is so tiny; Grimmjow did not realize how small her child-form was. Words like cute and helpless go through his mind. NO! She is the enemy.
Her lower lip pokes out, and unbelievably, her eyes get bigger. "W-why, Grimmy?" Her chest starts heaving, tears dripping down her face. A strange discomfort takes root in his stomach, making him get off her body quickly. The first wail hits, a glass-shattering screech, followed by a flurry of sobs.
Shit. Shit. Shit. He backs away, as if burnt, raising his hands in surrender. "Look, I'll get it, okay?" He retrieves it, smoothing out the leaves cautiously. He glances at the cover, eyes widening. The Kama Sutra, Illustrated. What the hell is this?
"W-wead it to me pwease?" Nelliel sniffles, settling into his lap.
Grimmjow stares at her. It would be so so easy to kill her now, just run her through with his weapon until she lies in pieces.
But Tier would crucify him and then chop him into little pieces and then burn him to ashes if he destroyed another Espada right now, he thinks. Since Aizen's death, there has been a marked lack of strong Arrancars, and Tier needs all the help she can get.
"Weaad it Gwimmy!" the little girl wails, exposing the gaps in her teeth.
"I am not reading this to you!" he snarls back, dropping the book.
"C-can't you wead?" she whimpers, hair falling over her face as she looks up at him. He studies the scar bisecting her nose, and fights the urge to punch her. She reaches her chubby little arms up, wrapping them around his neck.
Horrified, Grimmjow goes completely still. Is this what the human girl Orihime used to call a hug? It is terrible.
Nelliel pats his mask awkwardly. "Itsh owkay, Gwimmy," she whispers, dripping snot on his coat. "If you can't wead. I can wead it fer joo."
Grimmjow wonders, if there are worse forms of torture than to be read the Kama Sutra by a toddler you want to kill.