Disclaimer: I do not own BLEACH or any of its characters. This story merely my interpretation, a work of fun and curiosity.

Story 1 - Birth

Grimmjow has long learned and taught others that size didn't matter. He was smaller than those who followed him and yet so much stronger they considered him King. And then that man came, descending like some god from the sky and walking towards him with a tender, disgusting smile on his face, one that a man has when crushing a spider under the sole of his shoe. The analogy was unfamiliar and made him scowl in confusion - where did it come from? Then he realised it must have been a fragment of his human memories, like many other little nuances.

The man came too close so he flattened quick to the sandy ground and growled in the back of his throat, his ears flicking back. He couldn't stand this creature. The smell of him was hideous, as was the way he covered up his lust to conquer with a pleasing human appearance. Was this a shinigami? Grimmjow couldn't imagine anything more unappetizing.

"Aa, look at that, Aizen-han..." Another man spoke up and Grimmjow perked a bit at the tickling sound of his voice. He has never heard a voice with that sort of tone. Playfulness, was it? No, maybe more like an edge of cunning. He couldn't put his finger - his paw - on it, but it made him lift his head and turn the other person's way. And what a strange - what was it? - way of speaking, dialect, that's it, too. "It's a snarly kitten."

Koneko ya, he said and Grimmjow's spine curled as he rose and bared his teeth wildly. His tail flicked about angrily as he began pacing up to and fro in front of the three men. Three, because there was another one with darker skin and eyes that didn't see. Grimmjow bristled and growled when the silver haired of the three approached him.

"Dangerous, dangerous!" He sing-sang and contradicting that crouched in front of him. Grimmjow ceased the pacing and stood still, staring at the man, every of his muscles tense and at the ready to fight. He wanted to lock gazes with the silvery man, see what his look told him, but his eyes were hidden. Yet he caught a flash of cold blue beneath his lashes at one moment and went rigid with anxiety.

"Please, stop antagonizing him, Gin." The leader of their pack spoke and Grimmjow shied back from the too-smooth, honey-dripping voice of a careful murderer. He gazed at him with soft eyes, eyes too superior for Grimmjow's liking. "I am Aizen Sousuke, captain of the Fifth Squad in Soul Society. What is your name, adjuchas?"

Grimmjow cast another glance at the silvery man, Gin, before answering the leader in a harsh, haughty growl, "Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez."

"Nice to meet you, Grimmjow." Aizen said very kindly. Grimmjow felt the back of his throat burn bitter. "I see you are already very powerful, but I have more power to offer you. An evolution into something far exceeding your expectations... a step further towards perfection."

Grimmjow stared at him, not trusting a single word he said. He spoke of perfection as though he would never reach it, nor get at least a little closer to it. Yet the idea of more power was tempting. He flicked his tail gently. "What's the catch?"

Aizen chuckled and Grimmjow felt it slide slick over his back. He shuddered uncomfortably. "There's no catch... all you ought to do is pledge your allegiance to me against Soul Society, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez."

Grimmjow was about to respond in his haughty, snarling ways when Aizen's form began glowing with a purple light that was supposed to be a soft colour and yet was menacing and evil as nothing he has felt before. It felt rotten and merciless and Grimmjow wanted to hide from it. Aizen's eyes that seemed tender before now glared him sharply down onto the sandy ground. He flattened to it under the pressure of spiritual prowess and groaned with the ache in his body, his bones grinding loudly to his own ears. He saw the dark skinned man waver a little bit with the release of reiatsu, but the silvery man, Gin, did not move an inch from where he stood.

"I am sure we can reach to an agreement..." Aizen murmured and slowly, far too slowly, suppressed his strength once more. Grimmjow remained on his stomach, panting quietly with the strain of pressure.

It took him some time to stagger to his feet again and as he looked at Aizen, he knew he had no choice. He feared death, hated to imagine himself gone from the world with some arrogance that was very human in him. He bowed his head slowly, with difficulty and growled yes in a quiet tone. Aizen smiled smoothly and beckoned him towards himself.

Grimmjow didn't remember what happened next because the pain nullified his senses and shrouded his memories. He howled and writhed as his mask, his hollow armor fell away and gave way to hard, yet vulnerable skin - hiero - and a figure he wasn't used to. His paws - his fingers buried into the white sand and he seethed through his teeth, a whining edge to it as the pain still simmered in his bones and tendons and muscles, easing too slowly and never really disappearing. There was a constant pain in his face and especially in his bones, as though he didn't quite belong into this form. Yet, he felt he was strong. Stronger than before in many ways, as promised.

Gin stepped over to him and clothed him because his body was bare, lacking armor. He felt strangely exposed, a new sensation, something he identified as being human sentiment and he hated it at once. Yet he was grateful for the clothes and struggled to pull them on properly. Gin helped him when needed and his touch was strange and cold, yet it didn't feel as intrusive as it should have.

Now fully clothed he lifted his new eyes to the man before him and knew he loathed Aizen like nothing and no one ever before. Yet he feared him, his strength and unquestionable authority. This was a shinigami, a death god. If there was an entire flock of his sort of people in Soul Society- but he couldn't imagine that. He was certain Aizen was singular and he would be content with that. Just one above him, that he could live with. Bitterly so, but his pride could endure that. He remained in that belief and would not be shaken, not even when Barragan joined their ranks.

But then came his unfortunate decision to act upon impulse and lust for destruction and he had gone to the human world to seek battle. The price he paid for following his instincts was grave. Yet all he felt was the ugly churn of anger and loathing in the pit of his stomach when he thought of Aizen and Tousen both. He marched to his lodgings, teeth gritted into a snarl so no one would dare to speak to him and no one did.

Fresh blood splattered onto the floor where he walked, the stump of his missing arm aching with pain he was far too used to.

TBC in next chapter