Functioning, Chapter 1

Because I just like messing the Espada—Grimmjow in particular.

I don't own Bleach, yadda yadda yadda.

CHAPTER 1, START!

"You can't be serious," Grimmjow deadpanned.

"I am indeed," Aizen replied.

"But… Lord Aizen, is it really necessary?" asked a confused Ulquiorra.

"Not particularly," Aizen answered.

"Then… when?" asked Starrk.

"Ah…" Aizen cleared his throat, "tomorrow."

"What?" screamed Grimmjow. "We can't just move all our stuff to the World of the Living in one day!"

"It has already been done. I would merely like my beloved Espada to get to know the town we plan to destroy."

"Alrighty then," Coyote Starrk leaned back in his chair. "Let's go."

_PAGE BREAK, YEAH!_

The first thing Grimmjow noticed about the "family home" he was going to live was that it small. Tiny. Ten Arrancar, one evil (and stupid, according to this new venture) overlord, and a house with six bedrooms… Not to mention two bathrooms.

Damn.

Walking around the damned dirt hole (which was actually a quite nice home) he was going to be confined to for the next few months, he found the "family car." A Volkswagen. A Volkswagen Bug.

It was a fucking clown car!

Grimmjow sighed, deciding to take a walk. Passing the first house, he read a large sign that said… Kurosaki Clinic? No… it can't be, just a coincidence, that's all.

Soon, Grimmjow was back from his walk, and feeling… rather sleepy. He went inside his new house (complete with luxurious dark wood flooring) and flopped on the living room couch, closing his eyes… when the smell of something burning came to his nose. Coincidentally, there was also green-ish smoke coming from the kitchen.

Aw, hell.

Szayel Aporro Granz walked in, clad in a pink fluffy apron. "What the hell?" Grimmjow questioned the pink haired (pissed off, by the look of it) Espada.

"Just. Get. Me. Some. Water."

It looked like Grimmjow's day wasn't over yet.

Crisis narrowly evaded, Aizen called a family meeting to discuss what was called "Granz's stupidity."

"I believe it is time for some rules to be set, and… Granz, why are you still wearing that pink apron?"

Number eight shrugged.

"Well, anyway, we need to establish some rules," Aizen stated firmly. "First," he glared at the bespectacled Espada, "The kitchen is not a lab, it is a place where cooking takes place."

A pale hand rose into the air.

"Yes, Ulquiorra?"

"By cooking, do you mean…?" he asked, pointing to the ten Espada.

"Of course," Aizen responded. Groaning could be heard (Along with: "I AM A KING! KINGS DON'T COOK!" from Baraggan Luisenbarn.) from around the table. It looked like pizza was going to be a new staple in Grimmjow's diet. "And we will have home cooked meals" Aizen's eyes narrowed threateningly. Shit. "Also, I have taken the liberty of assigning all of your rooms by number. I have taken the master bedroom for myself."

No one was particularly surprised at that one.

"Ah, also," Aizen started, "we have been invited over to our neighbor's house for dinner. I do not believe that they have enough room or food to serve all eleven of us, so I will only be bringing Grimmjow."

Grimmjow was just labeled a traitor. "Wait, what? Why just me?" he asked, desperate. Aizen merely smirked. Oh, he's planning something.

So, the evil overlord and terrible Espada were going over to the neighbor's house with the "KUROSAKI CLINIC" sign on it for some meatloaf. Through all the hell Grimmjow knew he'd inevitably go through, he hoped that at least the meatloaf was good.

Aizen pressed his finger to the doorbell, the damned mischievous smirk still plastered on his damned face.

"Karin!" a small, feminine voice called, "they're here! Get big brother up!" Aw, how cute. They had kids for Grimmjow to terrorize.

The door opened, and a small girl with caramel hair smiled up at the two evil masterminds. "Welcome to the Kurosaki home! I'm Yuzu! Come in and sit down; dinner's almost ready."

Grimmjow and Aizen walked in, observing their surroundings. The place looked… Homie, Grimmjow secretly admitted.

"WELCOME! I AM ISSHIN KUROSAKI!" called a large man with spiky hair and slight facial hair. To Grimmjow, part one of hell had just begun. "Now, where is my foolish son? KARIN! HAVE YOU WOKEN YOUR BROTHER YET?"

A loud crash was heard from somewhere upstairs.

"He's resisting!" called back another female voice.

Resisting? Strong will.

"REMEMBER, SON," the man apparently named "Isshin" called. "IF YOU WANT TO BECOME A MAN, YOU MUST FOLLOW THE ORDERS OF THE MAN OF THE HOUSE! MY FUTURE GRANDCHILDREN WILL—"

Grimmjow pretty much just tuned the guy out after that. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor kid who had to deal with a psycho maniac like that guy for a father. Hopefully boy wouldn't be like the yelling buffoon in front of him.

"Alright, I'm up!" called a familiar voice. Grimmjow's ears perked. Could it really be…?

"Now, remember Grimmjow," whispered Aizen. "No fighting right now in the world of the living. We all have to stay peaceful and quiet."

So that was going to be his hell.

"Jeez, Dad, no need for—" called the orange haired boy, before he looked down at his guests.

Grimmjow smirked, recognizing that look on his face: the oh-shiiiiiit look. The kid's face was paler than a ghost!

His smirk grew wider: "Heya, Strawberry."

Okay, chapter one, finished! I'm so proud.