God, there was no fucking comparison to this. The slaughter was so pure and clean as Grimmjow jerked his hand free of the shinigami bitch's corpse. They had put up one hell of a fight, but it didn't change the fact that Grimmjow had killed each and every one of them. The pungent reek of blood filled the air as he shook the gore free from the bone armor of his zanpakutou's release.

The reiatsu that filled the room was intoxicating. That which lingered from the dead bodies that littered the room and that from the final bitch he had come to kill.

The shinigami was broken, cowering as he favored an obviously broken arm, trying to scramble through the final motions of a kidou that would prove useless against the sixth of the Espada. It exploded in a realm of light, enough to blind the room before Grimmjow burst through, fist pumping with unused reiatsu.

"Are you ready to die, bitch?" he snarled, blue eyes wide with excitement. This was fucking great. So abso-fucking-lutely great. He swiveled away from the dead body, fiery eyes flickering through the room with no attempt to hide the enthusiasm with which he did so.

The arrancar didn't believe in heaven. They believed in the here and now. They believed in what their fists could punch through and their swords could cut down. Yet, as far as Grimmjow was concerned, this was pretty fucking close to utopia.

He drew in another breath, the adrenaline still coursing through every inch of him. Yes, he could do this every damn day of the week and he'd never get tired of it. He stalked from the room, kicking the twitching corpse of a little sixth divisioner. Grimmjow felt the tingling pressure of even more shinigami reiatsu lurking and he cracked his knuckles with a contented sigh.

"Oh, fuck, yes," he whispered before he felt the fumble of fingers against his lips. The hell? Nobody should have been close enough to pull shit like that. His eyes jolted open as he stared down at the offending presence and saw a lemon-shaped chunk of bone wrapped in scarf.

"Shuddup, ain't it too early fer that?" Di muttered. The smaller arrancar shifted against Grimmjow's chest, fingers curling against the thin fabric of Grimmjow's uniform jacket, tugging it closer.

Grimmjow jerked free of the grip, rolling over on his side until Di rolled off onto the bed itself. Forced off the taller arrancar, Di shot Grimmjow a bitter look from his half-lidded eye, "What?"

"Dammit, Di. That was actually a fucking decent dream until you-" Grimmjow twitched when he saw the slightest traces of a smirk cross Di's lips. He gave the numeros a bored swat. "Whatever. Doesn't matter," he tugged his sheets back over him, "Just start sleepin' in yer own goddamn bed from now on."

"Heh. Whatever you say, boss."