Author's note, please read!

I've been thinking about this for a while and then I noticed that everyone's (my) favourite Grimmjow addict Blackstorm will be older soon. So I thought, why not write it and give it as a small gift. And no, I do not personally know her. But now and then I like to do random stuff and surprise others. Especially if it is their birthday, everyone deserves some happiness on that special day =)

So happy early birthday Blackstorm *cheers*

And those who follow my story Rodeo Ride, I have not forgotten about it haha. It has just been very busy for me and I have some stupid meds to take bleh. But it should be up soon, don't know when though since it is a longer chapter 'cause I want to wrap it up and finish it in the next chapter =)

Characters are property of Tite Kubo, I own nothing more then the story in itself ^^

A small wind moved over the sands in Hueco Mundo, and with it small spikes of reiatsu. The wind was from two weapons clashing, the fighters could be on the same level of strength and one of the reiatsu was so familiar. The ex-espada's rest had been disturbed by this clear mock at the memory of something lost, but not yet forgotten. A hand traveled through unruly hair, time for a cut maybe. Nah, not really, the hair had only grown down to his mid back. But maybe the bangs, hanging from his hairline on his forehead should be cut, they were well past his eyes almost reaching his chin, but still thin all three of them. Otherwise his hair was as it had been seventeen months ago when the war ended, and the light blue color it held reminded him of something and that something had made him keep climbing, growing stronger for a day where that memory would return to him. The green lines under his eyes had stretched, making a thin line following the bottom of his eyes and he knew he was more muscular, he had kept up with his hand to hand combat, he still preferred to feel when things were crushed under his bare hands. He was closer in looks now to his Resurrección and he preferred it so. The arms of his previous jacket had been ripped by him so it was sleeveless and for some reason unknown to himself, he had tied a short stump of a bandage to his Zanpaktou, it was somehow important to him, like the scar on his chest seemed to be, somewhere deep down.

Grimmjow heaved a deep sigh, frowning at the dull pain in his head. The familiar reiatsu kept on mocking him and he didn't like it. For some reason, he had left the part of Hueco Mundo that held high rocks, towering towards the black and white sky, the place where he had grown stronger, away from Las Noches and the vast sand dunes, where the sky was black with that piercing moon. The moon had mocked him too, the memory he could not grasp, so he left and became stronger and stronger until a few weeks ago when he suddenly decided to move back towards Las Noches. He was laying on the backside of a dune, resting and he had hoped he could do so for a while longer. He had seen the men appear and noticed when they herded other arrancar for a round up, and trying to make them join their "king".

Grimmjow had snorted when he had heard it, the word "king", and he had suddenly remembered a flash of brown eyes and his Fracción. He remembered them clearly, Shawlong, Edorado, Nakeem, Yylfordt and Di Roy, but what haunted him was those brown eyes, staring at him as if Grimmjow's strength had been something to look down on. A rage filled him but somehow a great sadness spread through him, what was it that he did not remember, that he knew was important. What made him strive to become stronger, who had held those brown eyes?

A new spike, but he knew those three, it was Harribel's Fracción. He had felt them for a brief time before their reiatsu had gone low and it was then that the reiatsu, taunting him from the past, had made its entrance. Grimmjow felt like he wanted to pull his hair, why was it mocking him, taunting him to do something and yet, it made him relaxed, as if it in itself held a thousand questions and a thousand answers.

Grimmjow sat up and stared in the direction of the fight. Was that the reiatsu of that beast that the three Fracción of Harribel had? He felt he couldn't care less, he wanted to rest and not getting dragged into a fight where he knew he wouldn't clearly concentrate. If he went there, maybe he would get his answers, but he could also become even more confused. As long as his memory didn't come back by itself he felt he wouldn't try to hunt it down deep inside of himself, he would let it rest. There was no need to rush, seventeen months had passed, he could wait a few more. He knew he would have to fight if those men came to take him too, but that would be for later. It was quite clear that only one man was standing against three Fracción and that person, with a reiatsu that seemed to be confidant, how that made sense he didn't know.

He slowly stood, cursing when he felt sand inside his hakama and he hated that feeling of those small grains making their way down his legs. He felt he needed to get back to the other part of Hueco Mundo, where he could lie on those cliff formations and watch as hollows drew past him while they hunted weaker hollows, not knowing that they were prey under the watchful eyes of a true predator.

"You want us to fight on equal footing, right? Or do you want to save that burn for an excuse when you lose?"

Grimmjow put his right hand over his face as his vision blurred, his legs started shaking and he had to take a wobbly step forward. He took a few deep breaths, calming himself as he stared frightened down on the sand. Fear? Why? No, that was wrong, it wasn't fear but reverence before a memory that made him climb, making him strive for more power. Greater... destruction.

"What would suck is if you would release that form!"

That voice, those words, the brown eyes and the reiatsu spikes that had just been. Grimmjow felt like he would throw up, he fell to his knees while holding his head with both hands, the words echoing inside his mind. Hate, those eyes when they looked at him, he hated them. He knew that now, he remembered.

"Don't give me that bullshit."

That was his own voice. Who was he talking to? Who was he fighting inside his memory? Grimmjow took a few shaking breaths before slowly standing again. He wanted to get away, he needed to get away. Hate, reverence and the need for power. Those three feelings were fighting for space and it felt like his mind was scattered around Hueco Mundo, with years to come before he would feel sane again. Leave the dunes, was all he could think of.

He turned around and picked up Pantera, whom had been lying next to him in the sand. He didn't bother attaching the Zanpaktou to his hip, he didn't have time. Was he fleeing? He stopped moving, but only for a second before he walked again. No, it wasn't fleeing, it was more like a tactical retreat. He didn't want to mess up his mind any more than it had allready been.

A new spike of reiatsu reached him, that mysterious and familiar reiatsu was back. Brown eyes, piercing moon, brown eyes, piercing moon and a vivid color of orange. Hair.
Grimmjow stopped dead in his track and he didn't dare breathe as he slowly turned to look back over his shoulder. He felt that if he breathed, the memories would flee. If he breathed, the fight would turn and find him, killing him as he was paralyzed.

"Sorry Grimmjow. I can't afford to take any more injuries."

Clashing swords, blood, war, rage. Getsuga Tenshou. The moon and the feeling of adrenalin pumping through the veins. Gran Rey Cero and a man with a hollow mask stopping it to save Nelliel and that woman. Ichigo?

"Kurosaki."

It took a few seconds before Grimmjow realised what he had said and the memories came crashing down on him. He turned towards the fight happening without him. Someone was trying to kill Ichigo Kurosaki. There was a strange feeling spreading through Grimmjow as more memories piled in and he felt a wicked grin spread on his face. He moved with confident strides towards the battle, his blue eyes set on the horizon. Someone was trying to kill his prey. HIS prey. Grimmjow would have to teach that man to not touch his prey, it was his to kill. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez was the king of destruction and Ichigo Kurosaki was his to slay and prove who was the stronger.