Grimmjow gently traced the form of his muscles along his abdomen. Solid, flawless. Is this what it would have been like if he were still alive? Grimmjow smirked. Gigai were amazing. For a short while the blue haired Sexta Espada gazed at the bare form of his body in a full size mirror. The blank body had fully adjusted to his form. Certainly Urahara wouldn't care less about one of his newest models being stolen.
Grimmjow whitsfully felt along his abdomen again, a strange satisfaction at the lack of empty space there. Was this truly what all Hollows wanted? To be whole. Real.
Suddenly the Espada gave a discontented sigh. It was, after all, just a fake body. Nothing real could come from this. Even if it were true what was there for him in this world. To blend into such a place was impossible for someone like Grimmjow. He had no real place, not in the Living world, not in death, and not as an Arrancar. "Forever without a home" was something that most Hollows and Arrancar chanted, but those things also managed to group together, to find things to accept. Grimmjow couldn't find anything that made him happy about others. Not unless they were breaking under his claw.
Grimmjow lifted the soul release talisman that he had acquired along with the body. It was nothing, really. This body wasn't his, this world, nothing belonged to him. Even his Fraccion refused to fully bend to his will. They only followed him for power, to become part of a powerful circle. Grimmjow didn't need them, didn't want them, didn't care about them. An Arrancar couldn't care without a heart anyway.
Grimmjow lifted the talisman and pressed it to his chest, the body slumped down lifelessly. Losing his image and returning to the blank slate. Maybe that's all there was to it. He didn't need anything else but this one burning desire. And that one thing was to destroy, beak, crush. That was all that he could be.