Chapter 1

"Tch." Grimmjow wiped the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. Defeated again. He reiterated his annoyed "tch" as he stood up, wincing at the pain in his thigh. He looked down at the gaping wound. He would have to visit Szayel later to get something to heal that. He looked up at Ulquiorra through the dust. The waves of heat rising off of the desert sand made him look as if he was only half there. Ulquiorra was unscathed, still wearing the same nihilistic expression.

Ulquiorra started to walk away, sheathing his blade. He muttered a simple word: "Trash." Grimmjow just barely heard it, but it was enough for him to launch another attack, rage blocking the pain. Grimmjow slashed at Ulquiorra's back, but he wasn't there anymore. Ulquiorra appeared behind Grimmjow, and Grimmjow quickly spun around to block an attack that never came. Grimmjow's eyes widened as he felt a gentle flick on his forehead. Ulquiorra was staring into his eyes, the same face as always, showing nothing. In his monotone voice, he informed Grimmjow that he was "too injured to continue fighting" and that he "was going to go inside and read instead of messing around out here." Grimmjow slumped to the ground, shocked. Ulquiorra had just insulted him, but he felt as if he had just told him that he was worried for his health. Confused, he sat there in a trance.

"Ah! Ulqui!" Grimmjow broke out of his daze and turned around to find that Ulquiorra was already gone. He looked at the sand. The bland white sand splotched with his crimson blood. He needed to go get that taken care of. He slowly rose to his feet and sheathed his sword, padding off to Szayel's room to get some ointment. He didn't regenerate instantly like Ulquiorra could.

"Really Grimmjow, you should take care of your body more. I'm sure it would make an excellent specimen if you'd only adhere to proper maintenance procedures."

"Shut up Szayel; just fix my leg before I rip your jaw off."

"Oh, testy are we? Ulquiorra beat you up again? Did he call you 'trash'? Did it hurt poor little Grimmy-chan's feelings?" Szayel smirked at Grimmjow. He knew that Ulquiorra was a weak spot, even if Grimmjow himself didn't realize that fact. Or, rather, refused to acknowledge it. Call it what you will, pattern recognition, woman's intuition, or anything of the sort; Szayel knew that Grimmjow loved, in some form, Ulquiorra; that arrancar who was stoic, monotone, and overall much too skinny and pale for Szayel's tastes.

"Szayel" Grimmjow growled in warning.

"Calm down, kitty-chan, I'm just playing, you know that."

"Whatever. Just hand over the damned ointment."

Grimmjow flopped on his bed. His wound felt much better. Surprisingly, as time went on, he wouldn't get as injured when he sparred with Ulquiorra. Grimmjow knew he was getting stronger! He was going to beat Ulquiorra someday. An hour passed and he was still lying there, wide awake. Tch. If he couldn't fall asleep he would have to go wander the halls like he did every night. The only things that seemed able to actually calm his mind were his spars with Ulquiorra. In the heat of battle, Grimmjow's mind went numb. All emotions left him, all that was left was an instinct to fight to survive, to win. To beat the opponent in front of him, to become utterly dominant over the other's life, Grimmjow was filled with the desire to see the pain on the bloodied face of his enemy before the life left his eyes forever. Grimmjow's feral grin was plastered on his face as he sauntered through the halls, daydreaming.

Ulquiorra sat on the edge of his bed, reading the same sentence in his book over and over, unable to concentrate. Sighing, he placed his book back on the bed stand and stood up. Maybe some fresh air will clear my mind...

Ulquiorra wandered through the hallways aimlessly; always at the same pace, always with the same expression. The same face covering the roiling emotions inside his soul. Ever since that last spar with Grimmjow, Ulquiorra couldn't calm down. Anyone who wasn't paying attention would have easily missed it: a twitch here, a small sigh there, or just that he never even turned the pages of his book anymore. The endless hallways stretched on and on, offering no relief from Ulquiorra's persistent thoughts. Thoughts of a certain blue-haired man, his blood dripping to the sand like drops of crimson, the look in his eyes fierce with bloodlust. Ulquiorra shivered slightly at the recollection. He rounded a corner and saw a flash of blue before bumping into a tanned chest. Ulquiorra looked up, his eyes slightly wide before he gained control, and groaned inwardly. Oh speak of the devil…

Grimmjow looked down at the man that he had been thinking about slicing up just moments before. Neither one of them moved. Ulquiorra was standing a breath away from Grimmjow's exposed chest. Why didn't he ever wear anything except this damned open jacket? Grimmjow was half tempted to grab that face looking up at him with its blank expression and try to make it show something; fear, pain, disgust, anything but that perpetual nothingness. Grimmjow's head lowered a fraction subconsciously, before realizing what his body's intentions were. He took a step back, running his hand through his hair while looking at the opposite wall. Grimmjow suddenly felt very awkward in Ulquiorra's presence. His eyes were pulled back to the smaller man when he heard him suddenly speak.

"Your leg…"

"What?"

"How is it?" Ulquiorra asked quietly. If Grimmjow hadn't known any better, he would have thought that Ulquiorra felt as awkward as he did. Right now Grimmjow just felt the need to get out of there, out of Ulquiorra's presence before he got himself killed.

"Eh uhm, it's good…" He stuttered while taking another step back. He really didn't want to die yet. He still hadn't become the king! Ulquiorra made a noise of acknowledgement before turning and walking away. Grimmjow stopped and stared at the retreating back. What was that all about?

Ulquiorra made it back to his room quickly. His walk had achieved the opposite of what it should have. He couldn't even think correctly, let alone focus on anything. His skin had felt so… warm… Ulquiorra had just wanted to stand there, bathing in the Sexta's reiatsu. That is, until Grimmjow had stepped back. Ulquiorra had felt embarrassed that he hadn't just brushed off the lower Espada like he normally would have. Then he felt like he had to fill that silence… that dreaded oppressive silence… But the words that stumbled from his mouth had sounded forced and worse than if he had just let it be. He was sure Grimmjow could feel it too, the air around them constricting until Ulquiorra just wanted to run from there.

Grimmjow slumped against the wall of his room. How had he even gotten back? He couldn't remember, perhaps his legs had subconsciously taken him. It didn't matter. He could still feel Ulquiorra's warm breath against his chest; he could still see those green eyes looking up at him, almost void of expression. He was still thinking about what he may have simply imagined floating through those eyes—surprise at first, but then a kind of content warmth. Ulquiorra's eyes were never warm. Grimmjow shook his head. He was thinking about this too much. He needed to kill something to clear his mind. He headed to the door then stopped, shaking his head. What if I run into him again? Grimmjow snorted and opened his door. If that happens then I'll just have to take him outside and kick his ass.

After killing about a dozen hollows, Grimmjow felt his mind start to clear. He sighed, dealing the killing blow to a serpentine neck. That was enough; now to go back in, take a hot shower, change, and take a nap before the goddamned morning meeting. He was almost back inside the walls when he heard a muffled noise coming from a small lump on the sand a few feet away. Curious, Grimmjow sauntered over to see what it was. A small bundle of bloody fur was lying on the sand, barely breathing. Grimmjow's eyes narrowed before he turned to walk away.

"Tch. Weak piece of shit."

"Mew…"

The pitiful noise was enough to pull Grimmjow back to the bloodied hollow. Before he knew it, he was cautiously walking through the halls, carefully clutching the wounded animal to his chest. He didn't want anyone to see this weak side of him. Once he was in his room, he laid it down on a clean towel and rubbed some of the healing ointment he had gotten from Szayel earlier on the slash across the animal's side. He looked at the small clock on his wall. Damn. Ten minutes. Grimmjow put a small dish of water near the animal and went to quickly wash the blood off his skin. He changed quickly and walked out the door, only sparing a small glance back to make sure the cat was still breathing. Closing his door he sauntered to the meeting, still worrying about his new responsibility.

Throughout the morning meeting Ulquiorra noticed that Grimmjow looked anxious. Normally the man just looked bored as hell, and towards the end, angry that it wasn't over yet. This time he kept looking at the small clock and tapping his fingers. Was he worried about something? Ulquiorra snapped back to what Aizen was saying. He should be paying attention. He didn't want to get caught off guard. Thirty more minutes passed until Aizen dismissed them. Grimmjow was the first out the door and Ulquiorra cocked an eyebrow slightly. Grimmjow was practically running back to his room. It piqued Ulquiorra's interest, and he decided to follow him. Besides, there is a perfectly logical route back to my room that would take me past the Sexta's quarters. Ulquiorra's thoughts smirked. With a blank face, he started off on the "scenic route" to his room.

The door flew open and shut just as quickly. Grimmjow rushed to the small animal still huddled on the towel and sighed in relief. It's still alive…. Grimmjow checked its wound, and noted the progressive healing. Szayel does have some pretty damn good salve. The cat seemed to be in less pain, its breathing wasn't as shallow, and its eyes were open a little, taking in the room around it. Grimmjow hunched on his bed. He didn't even know if it was a he or a she; let alone what to call it. He sighed, got up and went to check. Female. Why the hell is the only name coming to mind "Nyan-chan"? "Tch. Sorry to give you such an embarrassing name, Nyan-chan." Grimmjow smiled a little. At least she wasn't an "it" anymore. Besides, nobody would know he had her, right?

Nyan-chan mewled and Grimmjow was startled out of sleep, unused to her making noise. He looked over towards where he had left her and there was nothing there. He sat up, worried, before he noticed the glowing golden-green eyes staring at him from the foot of his bed. He grinned. "Yer probably hungry, aren'tcha?" A mew in response made Grimmjow chuckle. "Hold on hold on, I'm getting up."

Grimmjow walked to the small alcove where he kept his food. Tearing off a bit of meat and pouring some milk into a bowl, he set it back near the water and the towel. Nyan-chan jumped up and started to hungrily devour the meat, and only when she was done with that, eagerly lap at the cool, delicious milk. Grimmjow climbed back into bed and rolled over, happy that she was doing well. His eyes widened. Litter box. He looked over at Nyan-chan politely sitting near her now-empty food dish and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. He got up and grabbed a cardboard box. The hell do I put in it? He stood there for a while, looking at it. Sand.

After a rather awkward walk to outside Las Noches with a cardboard box, and then an even more awkward walk back inside with a box full of sand, Grimmjow was exhausted. Thank goodness it was nearly midnight, or else Grimmjow was sure that he would have gotten weird looks. He climbed back into bed, only to find a happily purring mass of fur lying next to him. Grimmjow fell asleep to the rhythmic sound. G'night Nyan-chan….

Ulquiorra lay awake on his bed, thinking about what he had heard when he passed Grimmjow's door. Sorry to give you such an embarrassing name, Nyan-chan. It almost made Ulquiorra giggle. Almost. Did he get a cat? And name her Nyan-chan? The very idea of Grimmjow even calling anything with "chan" made Ulquiorra chuckle. He had to see it. He closed his eyes, finally falling into a deep sleep, dreaming of Grimmjow playing with kittens.

Waking up to a pair of goddamn green-gold eyes looking straight at you was not a good way to start the morning. Grimmjow almost jumped. He narrowed his eyes as Nyan-chan purred triumphantly. "Fine. I'll get you breakfast." Nyan-chan hopped off the bed and sauntered to her dish, patiently waiting. Grimmjow got up and grumbled. He would have to get some dry food or something that he could leave out all the time. Or sick her on some hollow mice. He fed her, and fed himself, and then looked at the clock. Cursing, he jumped into the shower. He was going to be late again this morning.

A/N GRIMMY-KINS NEEDS AN ALARM CLOCK.

Okay, so I was going to put " "Bless you," Gin mumbled absent-mindedly, handing Aizen a tissue." Right after Ulqui thinks "Speak of the devil" but then I took it out in editing. It was too awkward… SO YOU GETS IT IN THE A/N (Cause I love it too much~)