He hadn't always been so reckless. No, there was a time when Grimmjow was more cool-headed, a time when he held some one dear and precious to him. The day he realized that she was gone was the day he resolved never to care about anyone again, not a woman, not "Aizen-Sama", not even himself.
He thought he had hardened that resolve. He fought before to gain power, once he obtained the power of being a Vasto Lorde he fought to keep his rank and to serve the new leader of the Espada. He was strong, he knew he was strong. He only had one weakness, Neliel Tu Oderschvank.
She was strong, maybe even the strongest Espada, but she didn't like to battle just to improve her rank. She was set on having a solid reason to fight. That was her definition of a warrior, pride and honor. The first time he laid eyes on her he knew he would do anything for that woman. It was a foreign feeling to him, who had never cared for anyone. He didn't know that feelings like these were possible, yet he never wanted to go with out them again. The first time they spoke, the sound of her voice stayed in his ears for two days after. It called to him in his dreams and bewitched him like a snake charmers flute.
He hid himself and watched her battle the, then, number 8 Espada. Noirtria was giving it all he had but Grimmjow could see the Neliel was using little effort. Grimmjow smiled to himself. "I thought I might have to protect her." He thought, then, chuckled at the magnitude of his underestimating. By this time it was no secret that he and Neliel were a couple, so to speak and he also worried about the time she spent with number 8. "Maybe that idiot thinks he can get closer to her by sparring day in and out." He thought. So everyday he came to watch them and make sure she would be unharmed and that the tall blood-thirsty Espada wouldn't make a move on his lovely mate.
The day came that Neliel hadn't shown up for their nightly routine of walking through Las Noches and drinking tea. He desperately rushed to her quarters, No one there. The place had been torn apart. He felt a ball of dread in the pit of his stomach. He knew something horrible had happed to the beautiful creature that he held dear. He knew he would never find her. "Who? Who did this?" He yelled. No answer, of course no one was going to admit to this. It would all be forgotten in no time. Forgotten to everyone but him, and maybe whoever did this.
The next days that past were harder than any he had ever known. He felt eyes upon him. "They're looking down on me." He thought disgusted. "They think they're better. That if she was theirs they wouldn't have let it happen." Which might have been true for some, but he was torturing himself, torturing himself with guilt and drowning himself in his own sorrow of loss. "Never again, I'll never let my guard down again. I'll never have those feelings again." He grew a hard heart and a love of fighting. Fighting and killing filled the hole that losing her had left. Deep down even oblivious to himself, he wanted to prove that he was the strongest, he never wanted to feel looked down upon again.