(Start Note: Rewrite five years more experienced. I dare you to read the original. It's so awful it's laughable.)
()
Locked in a room in Las Noches was, surprisingly, entirely uneventful. Ichigo thought someone would have challenged him to a fight by now. Grimmjow, perhaps. He wouldn't say no to a good fight right this very moment if he were unclothed and disarmed. Shiro ignored him, no member of the Espada had come by in quite some time and the room itself held nothing but furniture…
He paced between each item, running his fingers along their surfaces and considering his impulse idea for amusement. On any other occasion Ichigo would have stomped down the thought before it could fully form but here, here he could almost do as he pleased without repercussions.
Hand circling the cylindrical arm of a dainty looking chair, he smiled and gave in. He yanked the chair from its place and flung it across the room, glee filling every pore on his body. It shattered on the far wall with an immensely satisfying explosion of splinters and shards and he was overcome with the compulsion to repeat.
#
Ulquiorra heard the commotion long before he ever saw the entrance to Ichigo's prison. The far off sound of things shattering, not entirely rare in Las Noches, was easily dismissed as on of the more rambunctious hollows making a mess. He would have placed a sure bet on Grimmjow being involved. Until he realised he was heading toward the sound, and not away from it.
Disappointment bloomed in him as he stopped before the doors behind which Ichigo resided. They jumped every few seconds under the force of furniture being thrown into it. He'd assumed Ichigo to be slightly more mature than Grimmjow. Perhaps he wouldn't deliver the food after all, teach the Shinigami a lesson in restraint.
The noise abruptly halted with a final, resounding crack. It sounded as though he had broken the wall. He sighed and made his way inside, having to duck as he was met with half a tabletop spinning his way.
"Trash, what in Hueco Mundo are you doing?"
The room was a disaster zone. Once elegant furniture now scattered rubble coating everything still in one piece. The Shinigami had the audacity to shrug at him. Trying to placate with a nuetral façade. Aizen was not going to be happy.
"There was nothing to do."