The inverted moon shone brightly over the monochromatic sea of sand beneath, casting shadows that had neither lengthened nor shortened since the conception of Hueco Mundo itself. All was still. No wind blew; nothing fought, and nothing killed in the witness of the pale moonlight, thus the ethereal landscape remained largely undisturbed.
Time passed, and out from the surface of a small dune under the shade of one higher crawled a masked lizard of comparative stature to its earlier tiny dwelling. Tentatively, it flicked its forked tongue several times in quick succession, scanning the still umbra for the scents of nearby predators. Finding nothing within immediate range, it began ingesting the atmospheric reishi.
Once having eaten its fill, the Hollow creature walked languidly along the edge of his dune's slipface.
It stopped when it came across a tall crystalline tree poking out at odd angles from the sand. The lizard rested there, content that no other animal would be able to detect it.
There was then a strange sound akin to the grinding of rock.
A small shard of quartz fell from the tree and severed the lizard's tail from its body. It bled but made no motion to move away from the site of its grave injury. Instead, it waited patiently and the bleeding stopped. Slowly, its tail began reforming and steadily grew back until it was in pristine condition.
Upon recovering, the creature maneuvered around the crystal fragment embedded in the ground and devoured its own detached appendage.
Promptly, the lizard increased in size and wandered off in the direction of the larger dune.
He couldn't breathe.
Grimmjow awoke with a start. He felt a weight atop his stomach, and his mouth refused to obey his commands to intake the reishi of the air. Something was on top of him, smothering him. He bolted upright and slammed the aggressor on its back as he held its throat with one hand and charged a cero in the other.
Smiling back at him, Sung-Sun began giggling girlishly at her superior's bewilderment while she peeled his slackened grip away from her. "Evening, Grimmjow-sama," she greeted. Without warning, she brought herself back to him and pressed her lips once more against his. Much to her disappointment, her bedmate didn't respond in kind and opted to shrug her away from him before eyeing her dangerously.
"The fuck's your problem, woman? Spend so much time around me that you gotta play with your life to get off?" he growled, hiding his amusement at the sheer audacity of the Fraccion.
"Of course not," Sung-Sun answered with mock offense playing out under a set of mischievous coral eyes. "I just…" she let the sentence linger as she slithered across the sheets and maneuvered her lithe form until her head rested on Grimmjow's bare chest, "wanted to wake you with something different. It's awfully boring when I get up and you're already gone or you leave without saying anything. Is it too much to ask for you to stay in bed…" idly, she traced her fingers across his abdominals, filling in the carved swathes of solid muscle, "a little…" she stretched upward and planted a chaste kiss on his mask fragment, "longer?"
All he had to do was take in the scent of her blossoming lust to contemplate whether or not he should throw his agenda out the window. However, two powerful reiatsu signatures just outside Harribel's living quarters told him that he didn't have the time to indulge in something so trivial.
"Sorry, but I got things to do. Maybe next time," he tiredly dismissed, pleased that his adrenaline was finally wearing off. "Oi, don't make that face. I'll be back tonight. I have the feeling that I'm going to need to work off a lot of stress after this day is through." That seemed to bring up Sung-Sun's spirits. At the very least, it was sufficient to wipe away the pout that previously possessed her mouth.
"Wake up your sister, and let's get cleaned up."
The olivine-haired girl nodded in confirmation and immediately roused Apacci with an unladylike push to her breasts. "Get up, Apacci-chan," she cooed in a syrupy tone. "We have to make ourselves presentable before Harribel-sama needs us."
Sung-Sun waited a moment for a response. Hearing none, she sighed and administered a less than graceful rap to the other girl's head.
"I'm up, damn it." Apacci squawked, sitting upright and fighting the urge to brain the elder Fraccion in retaliation. "Just start the water and let me concentrate on healing. I'll be in soon." She then gave herself a once-over in front of the other two and cursed under her breath. A multitude of lacerations of various depths and a rainbow of bruises littered her body under a coat of dried blood and sweat. "Fuck, Grimmjow. I really have no idea why I put myself through this kind of treatment… ow." Tenderly, she massaged the soft flesh around the dual puncture wounds located at the junction between her neck and shoulder where she'd had her reiryoku drained the night before.
"How are my eyes, Sung-Sun? Did he take too much?"
The woman in question turned her attention to the source of the request and studiously examined her eyes, finding them to have a faint vermilion gloss. "Yes, you're going to have to get something to eat in the next day or so. But I'd recommend getting breakfast right after we shower so you can save yourself the trouble of everyone pointing out that you're going feral." She paused. "What about me—how am I?"
"Pretty bad," Apacci stated sympathetically, observing the barely transparent sheen of green covering Sung-Sun's sclera. "And of course this bastard here is perfectly fi-" She gestured over to Grimmjow's former position only to find it vacant.
"Where the hell did he go?"
Her answer came in the sound of steady streams of water coming from the nearby bathroom.
"Well, at least he isn't here to reprimand you."
"Shut up."
Giggling all the way, Sung-Sun rose from the bed, internally grimacing at how the blood caked to her body cracked and flaked to floor whilst she entered the bathroom.
Inside, she spotted a tuft of azure hair sticking up from beyond a pane of warped glass. Not bothering to prepare herself beforehand, she proceeded to open the shower door and stepped inside the rather spacious stall.
To her horror, the water was freezing.
"Having trouble?" Grimmjow queried. His trademark smirk was set firmly in place.
"How can you stand it?" Sung-Sun chattered as she scrambled into the corner in order to distance herself as far as possible from the subzero jets of water. Unfortunately, the dry frigid air of Hueco Mundo provided little relief.
"This is nothing compared to swimming in the caverns," the Espada said matter-of-factly. "Ask Tier if you don't believe me."
"You don't need to keep boasting about how you know Mistress better than I do," Sung-Sun murmured sourly.
"Well, you know her body better than I do."
"Jealous?" Apacci's voice resounded through the tiled chamber, signaling her entry into the stall and superseding her screech regarding the ice in motion that was the shower water.
"Ack, that's cold," she spat shrilly, cowering next to Sung-Sun while Grimmjow scrubbed away the remnants of the previous night without a care in the world. "How the hell can you stand that?"
The Sexta chuckled at the echoed question, continuing to wash specks of blood out of his hair with a lather born only from a bar of soap. "How are you ladies gonna survive the war if you bitch about something like this?" he asked gruffly, ignoring the subsequent reactions of agitation and shame. "It's Tier's fault, you know?" came the mocking transition the Fraccion had come to expect by now. "She's too lax with your training so…" the showerhead unhooked from the wall and the girls raced for the door only to be thwarted by a steel-tendoned arm, "I'll just do it for her."
Tortuous screams and maniacal laughter rang through the entire tower.
Once he was clean by his standards and through with making wet kittens out of Harribel's servants, Grimmjow quickly dressed in one of the spare uniforms he kept in the Tercera's quarters for such an occasion. He then departed Sung-Sun's room, brushing past an extremely hungover yet humored Mila Rose who seemed to have trouble getting to her feet due to her mirth and the resulting beatings from two very unhappy women. He enjoyed the show for a brief moment before leaving the trio to have their fun and exiting through the foyer and out onto the marble veranda.
Outside, clouds of reishi had grown threatening overnight, obscuring the moon overlooking the starless sky. A gale had built up as well, kicking up sand all the way to the full height of Las Noches. Normal surface-dwelling Hollows would likely hole up with their packs until the visibility increased and the wind died down.
Grimmjow didn't have to peer over the railing to know that a vicious sandstorm was brewing beyond the dome. However, none of this was his concern. Evolution had already pushed him past the need to worry about something like a duster.
"Took you long enough," came a tired voice, effectively snapping the former Adjuchas from his musings.
Sprawled out on a daybed next to Harribel whom he somewhat resembled with his drooping eyelids, Coyote Starrk beckoned Grimmjow with a lazy wave. The Primera looked more tired than usual and uncharacteristically irritated by his inferior officer's tardiness
"Come here. We have a lot to talk about, and I want to hurry up and get to sleep. Unlike you, I wasn't living the high life yesterday. Tier and I busted our asses for hours on end trying to get this thing off the ground for you." He gestured over to Harribel who simply turned a page of whatever it was she was reading.
"Well then, let's get to it since I'm counting on having a lot of work to do today," Grimmjow stated in a neutral tone, pulling up a reclined chair and positioning himself between the two higher ranked soldiers.
Pleased by his cooperation and lack of bickering, they complied in their own fashion: setting down a book and managing to look slightly more awake.
Starrk looked over to Harribel and received an acknowledging nod, confirming that the balcony was a safe area for discussing their conspiracy. "I'll cut to the chase, then. You'll need to get started soon anyway. First thing you're going to do is build a good relationship with the human girl. Tier and I have set it up so that you have exactly seven days counting today to interact with her inside her cell without worrying about security."
"Yeah?" Grimmjow quipped incredulously. "And how the fuck did you manage that?"
"Lilynette will be operating from that sector's control room for the duration of the week."
The azure-haired Espada scoffed. "Bull-fucking-shit."
Brushing past his skepticism, Harribel took over the details, knowing that she would come off as far more convincing. "He was able to persuade Tousen to look at it as a form of punishment for some imaginary act of insubordination. And supposedly, he has allowed this to transpire so long as he performs periodic investigations. It's not as if she will be there to allow to act with total invisibility, but you will be able to avoid detection if you coordinate your efforts." She silenced the ensuing string of questions with a suppressive finger in the air. "Starrk has instructed her on how to tamper the audio so that Tōsen Kaname will not hear you from live feed or playbacks from this week's memory. Not only that, but she is busy preparing a loop of the prisoner's inactivity that will play on the monitor in case Ichimaru or anyone else comes in to check on her."
"But if they check the memory, then they'll be able to see that you were in there," Starrk added gravely. "So we'll be compromised if Fox-Face goes and gets nosy, but I doubt that'll happen since that sector's under Tōsen's watch. It's a lot less risky than anything else we came up with, so bear with it."
Done with relaying the setup, both the Primera and Tercera waited for the Sexta's reaction.
"It's as close to perfect as I can think of," he admitted, eliciting mirroring expressions of relief from his two accomplices. "But when the hell did you learn how to break security," Grimmjow inquired over to Starrk, visibly confounded.
He became even more confused when the shaggy layabout snickered to himself. "I taught myself when I got pissed at Ichimaru for sending a bunch of attendants in every morning to wake me up just for the purpose of screwing with me. One day when he was out, I went into the security office and set up a feed that was recorded when I was in a meeting, so all he sees and hears is an empty room now. Bastard still hasn't figured it out yet."
Grimmjow was impressed. "I guess that's it, then? I gotta hand it to ya. You two did your part, and now I guess, it's time to do mine." He got up to go but decided to entertain one last lingering question. "When exactly are we planning on changing me back into an Adjuchas?"
"As soon as that human agrees to help us," came the solemn reply. "We don't know when this war is going to start, so we can't waste any time."
"Fine by me. I'll just have to get the girl to trust me as soon as I can."
"Just so we're clear, your usual treatments aren't acceptable methods for this operation," Harribel said in her usual breathy articulation, amusing even herself at the expense of one of her exceedingly rare jests.
"Don't bring me down to Spoonhead's level, Tier," Grimmjow snarled half-heartedly as he motioned to jump from the tower. "I know how to treat a lady." He was about to touch off the balustrade when a hand firmly grabbed his shoulder. Turning, he met Starrk's steel gray orbs with his own electric blue. "What is it?"
Aizen's top soldier produced a jug of sake and several saucers from his jacket. "You're forgetting one last thing. Might need it if you're going to force yourself to be nice to the woman."
The other Espada let a wide grin play out across his features and settled back into his seat while Harribel quickly gathered her Fraccion and led them into a circle. Dishes were distributed evenly save the two that went to Starrk who was making up for Lilynette.
"Ladies," Harribel announced to her adherents, inaudibly warning them that further fighting between the trio would no longer be tolerated. "It is important for you to realize that conflict can start at any time. Aizen may divide us, sacrifice us, or force us to throw our lives away meaninglessly depending on his true desires. Regardless, with things as they are now, we will most likely all perish in the single decisive battle that is inevitably going to occur between us and the Shinigami." The urgency for them to understand evident in their mistress' usually calm voice shifted the countenance around the Fraccion into one of dead seriousness.
"I want you to be aware that we three, for reasons unique to ourselves, will do everything in our power to see to it that we survive, and that means that we are likely to betray Aizen and possibly leave Hueco Mundo altogether."
Their shock only existed for a short while before all three replied in unison, "Understood, Harribel-sama."
"We serve you, Mistress. We go where you go," Sung-Sun tacked on, her head bowed heavily along with her comrades.
"It is your choice to make, but… thank you," Harribel expressed sincerely, her oceanic eyes carrying the emotion that her concealed face could not. With them on board, she elected herself to pour the drinks for the circle—a high honor for her Fraccion.
"To our pack," Starrk toasted, tipping his dual saucers back and gulping down their contents as the others did the same.
"To survival," Harribel declared after proffering a second round.
"To no casualties," amended Sung-Sun.
"To perseverance," Mila Rose uttered enthusiastically.
"To ripping off the fucking heads of whoever tries to stop us," Apacci roared giddily.
The Tercera poured the sixth round and all eyes were on Grimmjow as he studied his drink, unaware that his air of narcissism had been worn down into something ancient and hollow.
"To taking back what's mine." He swigged the liquor and slammed his dish down with finality.
An hour passed and Grimmjow found himself on the ground level of Las Noches, treading through the vacant, colorless infrastructure on his way to the girl's cell. He passed no one, and the sounds of his boots scraping against the bone-white tile were less than companionable. His resolve was deadset. He needed to pull off a perfect first—well, technically second—impression if this was going to happen quickly. Gait wide, hands in his pockets, and swagger oozing confidence, he rounded one final corner and frowned at the scene before him.
Someone was standing in front of her door.
It was a lesser Arrancar, and its posture stiffened when he sighted the Sexta Espada. The pungent scent of fear and uncertainty radiated off of him, growing more powerful as Grimmjow closed in on him.
"Who ya standing in for?" He had a feeling, and it wasn't going to go well for him if it turned out to be accurate.
"Ulquiorra-sama," the sentry managed to choke out.
Fuck!
"Away on a mission?"
Nod.
"Coming back today?"
Another nod.
Double Fuck!
"Well, whatever. I don't know what your orders are exactly, but I'm going in so move it," Grimmjow proclaimed brusquely, stopping his advance to the door when he heard a whisper of denial.
"Hm? You say something, Numero?"
"S-sorry Grimmjow-sama, but only Ulquiorra-sama is permitted to see her," the guard stammered meekly, clearly distraught by the predicament he had been forced into.
"Speak up, Numero. It's rude to talk so quietly to a superior officer. I can't even hear you." Grimmjow strode casually over to the doorman, his mouth a taut line as he sidled next to the lesser Arrancar and leaned unceremoniously against the wall. "Well? You've got my attention, youngblood. Say what's on your mind." He watched him sweat from the corner of his eye and the edges of his lips turned ever upwards.
"O-only Ulqui-"
Grimmjow removed his hand from his pocket, hooked it around the sentry's mouth mid-speech, and swatted the guard's lower jaw off his face.
"Ain't no place he can go that I can't, kid. You'd do well to remember that" He spit off to the side to emphasize his claim before crouching down next to the writhing form that had once been the servile hybrid. It had covered the bottom portion of its head with its hands, blood seeping through his fingers as he gurgled and drowned on the gushing wound. He was trying to breathe past the flood of crimson ichor, causing it to bubble and splatter upwards in small bursts.
"Looks like you have no regenerative capabilities?" The response was a series of sharp watery gasps. "That's bad—that's real bad for you. What was a weakling like you doing here guarding this door. You're not a guard at all, are ya? You're just a deterrent." Grimmjow began lightly tapping the dying man's skull as if to press the revelation into his brain. "Hear that? A deterrent: an obstacle that must be overcome, that's your destiny."
The Sexta let out a long exhalation and patted the still-seizing hybrid on the shoulder. "If there's such a thing as fate, then it's a bitch. Ain't it?" he sighed, sitting down completely and staring at the opposite wall.
"Tell you what, I'll share something with you. It's somethin' I've been living by for about a thousand years now. This concerns individual freedom. I believe that both you and I have the freedom to do whatever we want, but if we have conflicting interests, then I believe that you have the freedom to try and kill me. Likewise, I have the right to do the same to you. Pretty fair, isn't it?" The body stopped moving and Hueco Mundo's low temperature made quick work of its internal heat. "That's free will, kid. Our world used to work like that but not anymore, does it? Nope, shit happened. Didn't it?"
Grimmjow put his hands on his knees and got to his feet. Slowly, he turned his head to the corpse and gazed upon it with what might have been pity. "There was no reason for you to die," he started, heading towards the now unrestricted door. "But there was no reason for you to live either. You and I were the same when it came down to that. Thing is, you had fear in your eyes instead of ambition to make something more of yourself, so I did you a favor." He rested his hand on the locking mechanism.
"You can thank me later."
At his side, Pantera rattled.
Heika, you're letting your bad side show again.
Ignoring the internal voice of his weapon, Grimmjow licked the gore from his fingers and entered the cell.
When removed from all familiarity, the human mind grows fragile, becoming malleable to the touch of a strong will.
And never was there a will more powerful nor a mind more easily subjected to the malevolence of the supremely determined.
Trembling from head to toe, Inoue Orihime cursed whatever unearthly thin fabric comprised the clothes that the emotionless black-haired Arrancar had given her as she pulled her legs into her chest in a desperate attempt to fight off the cold. Soon discovering her efforts to be fruitless, she sighed and propped her chin up between her knees.
She had never felt so alone and detached from what she considered real. She had never felt so… hollow. That, perhaps, was the word she would have used to describe the foreign sensation. It felt as if someone had came along and scooped out her insides without her ever noticing—a more concentrated depression than her loneliness following the death of her brother.
Time held no bearing in her current state. Often, she would find herself transfixed for hours on one of the countless intersections of stark white tiles. Senseless, thinking of nothing. Sleep had not come to her in the three days since she had first come into contact with the Espada. A dull headache persisted as if to remind her that she was not some formless thing between realms of existence. Otherwise, she would truly think of herself as a corpse that had, by some spiritual anomaly, retained its consciousness to some degree.
She wished that she had brought along one of her old prescriptions.
Over the last few hours, her room had become gradually darker. Now she could barely make out the shapes of the couch and dining set: the two pieces of modest furniture that kept her room from being absolutely devoid of anything entirely. The wind had picked up as well, breaking the silence of her cell by adding a chorus of demonic howls that ripped at the bars in her window.
She could make out, through the dim luminance, the billowing maelstrom of sand outside as the moonlight refracted from the small divisions of glassware adorning her table. And during the storm's rising, a generous amount of the coarse granules had been blown inside, coating everything in a thin layer of fine dust and battering her fair skin without relent.
Her face unable to bear the sand's full assault, she shifted and hid behind her legs.
This strategy lasted only until the sound of the door unlocking caused her to jolt up in surprise.
Closing the hatch as soon as he was through, Grimmjow entered the cloister and stepped forward to be welcomed by a sickening 'splat'. He let out a long breath and looked down to see that he had lodged his boot inside of a plate of previously untouched food. Luckily for him, it scraped off easily enough on the side of the tray.
"Yo~."
He cast softened eyes over to Orihime who was sitting with her arms hugging her shins against the wall next to the entrance. She had yet to even glance in his direction.
"Hello," she acknowledged weakly.
An inquisitive sniff of the surrounding air revealed her to be fearless and only slightly cautious of his presence. A good start from which to employ his artifice.
Looking around, he took in the surroundings: a couch, a plain rug, a toilet, a small table, and an odd chair. The decor was beyond spartan when compared to what he had become accustomed to. And because of this, one thing was clear:
Aizen doesn't give a fuck about this girl.
It was the truth. The ruler of Las Noches often went to great lengths to provide unnecessary comforts for his soldiers to reinforce his image as kind and generous. It was the first wall of defense to dissuade any rebellious thoughts that might be aimed towards him and his goal. The fact that the human had no such luxury told him that Aizen had no use for her beyond her life and the ability to repair the Hōgyoku. She was a hostage, a lure and nothing more. Security around her would be looser than expected. Good news.
Now that he knew he would be able to get away with a lot more than anticipated, Grimmjow's spirits had lifted to the point where he could swallow his pride and edit his demeanor to better suit the challenge at hand: gaining the trust of this tortured human girl and setting her against Aizen.
"Thanks for healing my arm," he said roughly, earning his first real look at the girl's stormy brown eyes. "I appreciate it, woman."
"You-you're welcome," Orihime stuttered, delighted surprise evident in her voice. To her, years had flown by since anyone had last reciprocated her actions. Though this man had shown her an awful scene with the Espada called Luppi, maybe he wasn't beyond geniality. This was the developing thought process of the human girl who had overlooked the natures of Zaraki Kenpachi and his ilk in Soul Society.
Grimmjow sat down across from her, inadvertently shielding the young healer from the hail of sand coming in through the window. "Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, Sexta Espada. Sorry, but I didn't get your name yesterday." He even went the extra length to tone down his smirk until it resembled more of a crooked half-smile.
"Ah, nice to meet you, Jaegerjaquez-san. My name's Inoue Orihime," The redhead greeted, blatantly excited to have some, any form of pleasant company.
"In Hueco Mundo, we usually call people by their first names, and honorifics make my skin crawl."
Puzzled, Orihime put her finger to the corner of her lips as she mulled over the unfamiliar custom. "So…" she began hesitantly, "nice to meet you… Grimmjow?"
The Arrancar nodded and the girl smiled a bit. "Likewise, Orihime. How ya holdin' up down here?" he asked with feigned sincerity, ducking his head down to follow her retreating gaze. "Not good, huh? Sorry about that, kid. I know what you're going through—spent a good stretch locked up too—so feel free to let off about it if you want to." Her posture shot back up, and she would've crashed her forehead into his had his reflexes not kicked in and avoided the headbutt that could have been.
"Watch it," Grimmjow chided, barely suppressing the urge to hit her with the blunt side of his sword.
"Sorry!" Orihime blurted out. Embarrassment made for a lengthy gap between what she would say next. "It's just that you said you've been... Ah, maybe I got a little excited."
Excited?
"What happened to you? Aren't you important here? Is it because you did something like what you did yesterday?"
Grimmjow's eyes narrowed immeasurably. Luppi's death was a subject that could function as a double-edged blade that could either raise or lower her opinion of him irrevocably. He'd have to play it off in a way that would appeal to her. "One question at a time, alright?" he muttered.
Orihime nodded and held her tongue.
"And you should forget about what I did yesterday. That bastard needed to die for me, for both of us if you think about it. He had it out for you, ya know?"
"I don't think anybody needs to die in such a way."
The Sexta didn't miss a beat. "Oh? Would you still say that if you knew that I'd killed him because it meant one less powerful enemy I would have to fight when I move against Aizen?"
Well, that came out a lot sooner than he had expected, but it had been delivered at a good enough chance. Moreover, he needed certain justification for what she seemed to view as an unnecessary murder.
Orihime felt her jaw slacken and her eyes grow wide at the bold declaration. Then, her shock quickly waned and her muscles tensed. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked, on guard and even a slight bit demanding.
Grimmjow inwardly frowned.
A moralist and a fool, huh?
Already, he had reached the point of no return. There wasn't much room to backpedal when you've gone and said you were betraying Aizen after all.
Orihime wasn't stupid, and that assumption had been a mistake. He couldn't afford to make another. Improvisation would be required if he were to put her firmly on his side.
"Alright then, Orihime. I'll go ahead and tell you why I'm here."
Orihime was wary but intrigued. Good.
"Thing is, I might need your help soon… real soon. You and I both know that a war is coming between Aizen and the Shinigami, and as it turns out, I don't necessarily support the side I'm supposed to fight for. I think you can understand why someone wouldn't want to fight and die for a man like Aizen, yeah?" He paused to check if she had bought any of it. From the looks of things, all was going smoothly. He saw comprehension playing out on her face. "I've got some friends too, and we're gonna need you to help us make this work after we switch sides."
Brushing a stray length of auburn silk behind her ear, Orihime took in the information steadily. "But what can I do? I'm just a prisoner here."
Unnaturally sharp canines pierced Grimmjow's growing smile. "Lots'a things. You'd be surprised what you can do. For one, you could vouch for us when we finally get out of here. Not much point in surrenderin' if the other side imprisons us as war criminals as soon as we jump ship, right?" Orihime shook her head in understanding and followed cautiously when she was led to the couch for a more comfortable deliberation. "Keep in mind, that's just one thing, though. If you want to join up with me and the others, then I might have a job for you to make this little mutiny of ours go off a bit better for us. The decision's all up to you, though. I ain't going to force you to do anything you don't want to do. I'm not one to fuck over anyone who doesn't deserve it."
Well, that was as good as it was going to get on his end. All that remained was her answer, and then he could sleep easy next to whichever woman he ended up with after this ordeal.
"I think I need some time to decide. This is all so sudden."
Grimmjow closed his eyes in order to conceal the fury in his electric blue glare. "I understand," he managed to say without sounding outwardly hostile.
I ain't exactly workin' on a flexible schedule here, bitch!
"Fair 'nough." He abruptly pointed over to the plate of mashed food and grunted, "You hungry?"
Orihime blinked and sat stock still for a second before registering the sudden question. "Ah, no thanks. I don't have much of an appetite lately," she dismissed politely, waving her hands in exaggerated motions as if she was shooing away the very thought of eating. Her stomach however had other ideas which it made known by growling loudly. After all, it had been several days since her last meal.
Even the wind seemed to let up for a brief period during the protest as the girl blushed and placed her hand over her roaring abdomen. "M-maybe I am a little hungry."
"Then, I'll go get you somethin'," Grimmjow replied immediately, standing up from the couch and heading for the door. He was about to open it when a hand shot out and wrapped around his arm. In a nanosecond, he broke the fragile hold and took up a stance against the woman who dared to touch him in such a combative fashion.
All he met on the other end of his challenge was a pair of pleading chocolate pools.
"Please don't go," Orihime breathed, making up the space that the Arrancar had put between himself and her with a morose pace. "Sorry, but you're the first person who's been nice to me since I came here. I know it's strange and maybe selfish, but I want you to stay a little longer if you can. And... I still want to know more."
Relaxing his pose, Grimmjow scowled and investigated the abnormal specimen of a woman in front of him. He had never once met someone whose mood fluctuated so violently from one side of the spectrum to another, and he knew enough about humankind to recognize that this was not normal behavior. Currently, she seemed a little worn and beaten down, discolored. Walking up to her, she didn't step back as so many others would. Instead, she simply allowed him to lean down and look directly at her with a quizzical evaluation.
Ambition was something she didn't necessarily lack, he deduced upon further investigation of her expression. She wanted to leave Las Noches, of that he was certain. The problem was that she was insecure and rightfully doubted her own abilities. She was resigned to wait idly in a puddle of depression for an opportunity. He could use that to his advantage if he led her to think that he was her only way out.
"You need to eat, Orihime." He retorted sternly, placing his hand reassuringly on her head. "'Sides, you got somebody that'd be sad if you went off and starved yourself, don't ya?"
Images of her friends flashed through the beauty's mind, solidifying her and giving her focus over her misery. "Right," she affirmed. "Just be back soon, okay?"
"Alright."
Grimmjow exited the cell and instantly re-inflated his ego as he whipped his head from side to side to clear the shame of putting himself down to the girl's level. "Fucking hell," he swore, glad to finally put his performance on hold. He was proud that he had surpassed expectations, but now he had to play fetch and get some kind human food from the kitchen in the main barracks.
Or not.
His cold stare found the lifeless corpse of the doorman which had a short while longer to go before it began disintegrating into reishi. A little revenge for wounded pride had never hurt anyone.
Shouldering the carcass, he broke into a punch of sonido and reappeared in front of Harribel's quarters. Not bothering to announce himself, he strode into the parlor using the conventional entrance for once and found it empty except for an unusually offset Mila Rose.
"What's up with you?"
The Fraccion raised her eyebrows questioningly and pointed to her nose.
Taking the hint, Grimmjow flared his nostrils and took in the various scents floating around the Tercera's abode. Floral candles had been lit as per usual to impede his senses. But beyond that, he could plainly identify what had made the Amazoness so miffed. It was the scent of sex.
"So why are you out here?" He probed.
Mila Rose's pout graduated into a full-blown sneer. "Harribel-sama was pissed about the two of them getting so close to being feral, and I guess one thing led to another when she went in her room to talk to them about it. And you know how she is once she starts, she gets so territorial that she won't let anyone else in."
"No actually," Grimmjow began sardonically, readjusting the corpse on his shoulder. "I don't, because Tier's not a fan of dick."
An awkward silence permeated the room subsequent that little comment.
"How do you even get that to work with her mask being where it is? Seems like it would be a pain in the ass," the Sexta commented off-handedly.
"You're telling me," Mila Rose huffed. "So what's the baggage for, and why are you here instead of with that girl?"
At her audacity, Grimmjow's eyes grew twice their normal size. "What the hell do you think you're doing saying something like that here? Nevermind that, why do you even know about where I'm supposed to be?" he seethed, hand flexed to show his claw-like nails.
The resulting laughter wasn't helping him simmer down any.
"Relax," the Fraccion cooed mockingly. "Harribel-sama told us a little bit about what's going on after you left. And I don't know how you haven't noticed but a storm's started, so all of Aizen-sama's surveillance is fried. See for yourself." She lifted up a nearby ottoman, uncovering a small reiatsu-based electronic bug beneath that was undoubtedly on the fritz going by the sparks that were shooting out. "Seriously, though, the sky's wild outside. I've never seen it rain during a sandstorm before. Check it out."
Taking her up on her offer after mollifying his killing intent, Grimmjow led the way into the foyer and stood near the closed balcony doors. Outside, through the glass, Hueco Mundo's eternal night was alive with fluorescent explosions of spirit particles and multicolored streaks of lightning that detonated upon making contact with the swirling dunes below.
"Cool, huh? The reishi's already going crazy even though it hasn't started raining yet. Now, I know you've seen a million of these, but it looks different from so high up," Mila Rose stated in unabashed wonder. "I bet Las Noches will be locked down soon."
A simultaneous realization occurred on that thought. "Shit, Ulquiorra's probably back already," Grimmjow cursed, scrambling back to the living room with the lesser hybrid keeping the corpse from falling to the floor. "Get me a plate, silverware, and a lamp," he commanded, leaving no room for objections.
Mila Rose looked at him strangely.
"Do it!"
"I'll be right back." She disappeared with a buzz and soon reemerged to find Grimmjow had produced a bundled package under his arm.
"Got 'em."
Expertly, Grimmjow thrust his hand into the deceased Numero's midsection. He rooted around inside for a moment and then pulled out a large red organ, dumping it on the plate. "Cut that up." He wiped off his hand on a nearby cushion and secured the reiatsu lamp as Mila Rose hacked the meat to strips with Leona, handing it back to him when she was finished. With the preparation completed, Grimmjow gathered energy that would have otherwise been discharged as a cero and heated up the 'food' to a light sear within seconds.
"Alright, I'm goin' back to hook the girl. You can have the rest."
Mila Rose rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever. You just took the best part." She watched the Espada make for the exit with disdain. "And come back later. I need to fuck something today—may as well be you!"
He was already gone.
"Delicious!" Orihime chimed as she made short work of the freshly prepared meal under the light of a reishi-burning lamp. No seasoning, no garnish, but hey, she hadn't been eating. "Liver's my favorite meat, you know."
Grimmjow bent his head downward, concealing his twisted amusement behind his hand. He hadn't expected this kind of reaction. Actually, the whole idea had been absurdly stupid in the first place.
From his experience, even the majority of Hollows let alone Arrancar—Mila Rose and himself being notable exceptions—couldn't stand the taste of liver despite it being the most spiritually nutritious food. And then some human comes along and not only tolerates it but says it's her favorite. The whole scenario was enough to have him in a fit. Briefly, he wondered what would happen if he told her where it came from. Maybe he'd do it after he exhausted her benefits.
"So all the food and other stuff is imported from my world?" the painfully oblivious woman inquired as she took a heavy gulp from the water that had been brought earlier by the Cuarta.
"Yeah, through specialized garganta," he said quickly in between gagged chuckles. "Aizen's got low-class hybrids in the human world maintaining supply lines and doin' all sorts of menial shit for him." Really, it was a wonder how he could be so organized across three dimensions.
Grimmjow lay reclined on the sofa adjacent to the one-seater table as Orihime enthusiastically shoveled in the Hollow meat, content now that the nutrition had done away with her headache and pale complexion.
"Um, you said you were held prisoner like this too?" she questioned straightforwardly, completely unaware that the topic wasn't so innocent. When a minute went by without an answer, she put down her silverware and turned to see if the Espada had fallen asleep.
Far from it in actuality; she couldn't see as clearly in the dark as she would have liked to, but she could tell that he had sat up and was looking off to the side.
The aura around the Sexta seemed to part the stray wind around him as his countenance degenerated from lively to solemn. "Long story. You sure you want to hear about it?" he murmured just loud enough to be heard by the bubbly girl across from him.
"Uh-huh. Every time you share a bad experience with someone else, it hurts a little less," Orihime replied sagely, scooting her chair around so that she could ease closer to the now prone form of her confidante on the couch.
"Alright," Grimmjow sighed. With this and the gift he brought in the bundle of silk, he would count the score for his arm settled. "Here goes." His azure orbs seemed to fade to a less vibrant shade of blue as he spoke. "This all happened a little over a century ago, during the end of the last big war with the Vasto Lordes. I was still just an Adjuchas—the strongest one. I was... I am what we call La Gran Bestia: the rarest and most widely hunted class of Hollow. I'd used my power to gather more like me. The Hollows that had no place, Arrancar, even the Lordes' own slaves, all of them relied on me to survive. We conquered just to make a place for ourselves—six hundred years spent building an empire. When we had last counted I commanded nearly twenty million Hollows across the forest. They called me Heika."
Orihime's sociability had been muted. In her ignorance, she had thought that the two of them could share an emphatic moment as victims of imprisonment. However, Grimmjow was beyond her. She had forgotten that she was dealing with centuries old creatures born from different worlds. Still, she hadn't thought that she would be talking to someone of imperial standing.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "You don't have to tell me any more if you don't want to."
"It's fine. What's done is done."
His voice had changed, becoming more smooth and measured. "After I killed one of the last Lordes, I was close to becoming one of em' myself. While most of us had been busy fighting and securing their land, Aizen had already started to take over the passive villages that I controlled... Do you know how the Xiongnu tribes fought the Han empire?"
The girl shook her head and apologized once more.
"He raided my kingdom around the frontier using his Shinigami gates to pop up wherever we weren't guarding. He'd kill every Hollow that didn't join him and then set the rest on a course to take over the next settlement. At the time I couldn't have done anything about it. I was busy fighting another war. When the last Vasto Lorde was dead I went to fight Aizen myself. Well, you can see how that fuckin' turned out. Tōsen was with him. I fought them both."
Orihime recognized what must have happened.
"They put bolts of that stone—the stuff that makes it so you can't use your power—they drove 'em through my legs," Grimmjow hissed, his normal cadence having returned. "Tōsen took half my jaw off an' threw me underground for a hundred years. Never evolved after that, never could with my mask broken. I was imprisoned for a century along with the Hollows that were still willing to follow me. Do you know what Aizen had me do to survive after that, Orihime?"
"No."
"He had me eat them. Thousands of them," growled the Espada.
The captive's features were horror-stricken. She recoiled backwards, shaken by the thought of being subjected to such torture. And it was over a century! she thought. It was unimaginable. How strong must the man before her be to carry on as he did?
Grimmjow continued, "Until Aizen got the Hōgyoku and turned me into what ya see now. 'Cept he fucked that up 'cause it was only the second time he'd used the damn thing. Me and Shawlong got screwed together on that one. And well, that's the shorter version of what happened to me. Mask got broken. Couldn't evolve. Got made into a shitty inferior Arrancar by a thing that didn't really work yet. I'm asking you to reverse that."
He had delivered his request with finality and swiveled to gauge her reaction. Rightfully, he thought, she was astonished and began to process his solicitation.
"I... I do want to help you," Orihime said after a pregnant silence between them.
Someone who had suffered so much. How could she not feel obligated to help him? At once, her own captivity seemed cheapened by his story.
Grimmjow, observing her hesitation, said nothing.
"I won't pretend that I can relate to you or even understand what it's like to live in this world, but I understand that you were suffering a lot more then than I am now. You've lost so much. I'm sorry," she said softly. "I feel stupid now for feeling so horrible when I've only been in here for two days when you, you were trapped for a hundred years. I think, maybe, I could undo at least some of that pain."
Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Fighting past the illness he received from the pity in her eyes, Grimmjow mentally smirked in triumph. It was true after all; the best way to deceive was with the truth.
"I don't feel any pain," he grumbled. "Yeah, I'll be straight with you. I want you to send my body back all the way to how it was before my mask broke. I want to evolve so I can survive this war. I want the power to live the way I want—to and make a path for you and the others who are with me to follow out of this place. I want freedom, and I'll be able to give it to both of us if you help me. I take care of my own, Orihime. You do this for me, and I'll bring you home."
Orihime was shaken by his passionate proposal. She had come to the conclusion that Grimmjow was an afflicted individual who had been too beaten down to talk of something so grandiose, but here he was. His gaze had become wild, boring into her for an answer while his lips had curled into a grin. What strength this man possessed. It was evident to her that he needed this, and his offer to help her in return was incentive enough no matter how sincere. If she rejected his fate, then she could go home. He would put her in one of those black portals and send her on her way before he absconded from the conflict that was looming over the horizon.
What did she have to lose? Things had become lucid, like she had been elevated to a higher perspective. If she did nothing, then Ichigo and her friends would come for her and subject themselves to fighting an entire military on their home field. Waiting to be rescued when an opportunity for an alternative that put only her at risk seemed idiotic. Finally, she could fix a mess that she had created all by herself.
That was all well and good, but she had one final lingering doubt.
"And what will Aizen do to us if I help you?" she queried only a little above a whisper.
Grimmjow rolled over and propped his chin up on his knuckles. "He values you too much to harm you. And I'll protect you no matter what until I bring you home safe," he assured.
"But what about you?"
"I will be beyond him."
The supreme confidence of the statement took Orihime aback. She moved to sit on the armrest next to his feet, wishing that she could have his level of fortitude.
"I'll do it," she announced firmly. "I'll help you."
An otherworldly boom of thunder fought to deafen Grimmjow's raucous laughter. His whole body shook in prideful rapture unbeknownst to Orihime, whom had nearly sprinted to the window in order to check out the storm that had kicked off with a vengeance.
"Wow!" she shouted. The Auburn-haired girl stretched to the tips of her toes and watched the clouds light up with arcing rainbows of color just as thick, viscous rain began pouring down from the rancorous heavens. "I didn't know this place had thunderstorms."
"They used to happen every five years or so, but they've been going on a lot lately," Grimmjow explained, stalking up next to Orihime after regaining his composure and with it, the personality he had tailored for himself. "Anyway, seems like you don't know much of anything about Hueco Mundo, so I brought ya somethin'."
The redhead spun about, nearly headbutting Grimmjow for the second time. "Really?" she exclaimed, mouth held open in a small 'o'. "Let me see!"
She was led over to the couch where Grimmjow picked up the rectangular parcel he had been using previously as a footrest and unfurled the linen that kept it bound. Inside was a rather large, old looking tome that read…
Hueco Mundo and its Inhabitants: A Collection of Observations and Notes Recorded by Various Authors.
"Sounds boring, but it ain't," Grimmjow asserted, setting the book down on the table. "I figured you would need some reading material. Aizen, the Overseers, and most of the Espada have something written in there, so you can have fun seeing what it's like inside the heads of some seriously insane motherfuckers." Orihime giggled a bit. "Here, I found somethin' on the storms." He turned the reishi lamp that he had so discreetly borrowed from Harribel's toward the text.
Hueco Mundo is really an environment like no other. There is a higher concentration of reishi in the atmosphere alone than in all life on Earth, and it lingers there above us who only use it for respiration. It gathers together, forming thick plumes in the sky. And as more Hollows evolve, ceros go off, and bodies decompose, the clouds keep getting thicker until the reishi condenses for about a month or so every few years. This is Hueco Mundo's rainy season. It's a time where everything that is able to make the journey moves to the surface, drawn up by what is essentially liquid food. Everything uses it to try and reach the next level as fast as possible.
Physically, it's similar to Earth's hydrologic cycle; and from what I've gathered, this is because reishi changes its state of matter when its density increases. This explains why sometimes we get something akin to hail. The only real difference between the storms here and the ones on Earth is that the result in this world is absolute insanity.
Packs usually disband, and every Hollow will fight for themselves in blind chaos. There's no light except for the occasional flash of discharged spirit particles from the clouds covering the moon. No one risks using reiatsu to attack because the atmospheric interference will make it blow up in your face more than half the time. Garganta won't work either, and the precipitation and lightning tend to drastically decrease the time it takes for a Hollow or Arrancar to go feral from starvation. Starrk and I have concluded that this is caused by a process comparable only to osmosis in that individual spirit particles will phase away from the body, attracted to the high density reishi.
These storms used to happen with regular frequency, so securing food had never been an issue.
Lately though, Aizen's been sending kill squads around to the Adjuchas communities that won't join up with us. That, along with many other reasons—most of which can be traced back to Aizen—have caused a lot of bodies to end up decomposing without being eaten, so the storms build up faster than they used to.
There was more written on the subject, but the quality of the content began to degenerate after mentioning Aizen.
Her interest piqued, Orihime skimmed the next few pages for the author's name and furrowed her brow once she came upon it.
-Sexta Espada, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez
'Hueco Mundo and its Inhabitants' pg. 612-618
"You wrote this?" Orihime postulated, trying to hide her skepticism for fear of sounding impolite. "I mean, the kanji's written well, and I didn't expect it because there are no schools here. How do you know how to read and write?" She was speaking with exaggerated gestures. Her impression of him was starting to get whiplash. Initially, he had been nice albeit rough around the edges but nice nonetheless, and then he had transformed into something of a vehement fervor. But now, even his crude speech and what she had thought to be an average capability for expression was questionable. The prospect of befriending someone else that was so dynamic had her elated.
Grimmjow scoffed humorously. "I'm Jap-"
A metallic clink coming from the window interrupted him.
Both denizens of the room whipped their heads around to spot an iron shutter descending upon the barred window, silencing the raging storm and keeping any further sand or rain from entering.
Grimmjow jumped from his seat.
"Shit! Listen, Orihime," he said hurriedly, "I like talkin' with ya and all, but I gotta go now."
"I like it too," the schoolgirl uttered perplexedly, flustered by the commotion. "Are you coming back today? When am I going to see you again? When am I going to help you?"
"Later," Grimmjow mumbled from the doorway. He glanced over and caught the sight of Orihime gazing dejectedly back at him with her hands clasped to her chest. "And don't talk about that kind of stuff with anyone else but me and only when I'm in this room," he added severely. None of the cameras in the holding cell had gone offline from the storm, he was certain of that. They were newer models that contained circuitry protected by anti-spiritual matter.
Though, regardless of security, he had to go. The fact that Las Noches was locking down meant that all of the Espada were safely inside.
"Sorry about cutting this short. The book'll keep you busy until I come back."
He raised the door, offered a chaste wave, and almost smacked his face into an ivory spike.
A pair of unfeeling juniper eyes met his before Ulquiorra brushed past his inferior officer and into the chamber.
Grimmjow clenched his jaw and remained facing forward.
"What is this?" Ulquiorra asked coolly, his footfalls landing like pin drops atop the tiled floor. First he looked to the girl. Her clothes were intact and her expression was more of a 'caught in the act' type than anything else. She hadn't been raped or injured or even received a raised voice from the looks of it. That was disturbing.
Grimmjow too was concealing something. He faced him next and scanned his figure for any immediate evidence of what had been going on prior to his arrival.
Everything about the Sexta was off. His stance was coiled, but his hands weren't in his pockets like they usually were before a fight, and his eyes were unusually matching up to his age and caliber as a Hollow. Something had brought about the persona of the Adjuchas that had once been called Heika by so many. Ulquiorra felt something odd when he met that hard cobalt leer, something primal that he hadn't felt since he had first become a hybrid. He actually found himself slightly unnerved under the sheer predatory pressure exerted by the man's very presence. Though, perhaps unnerved was the wrong way to describe it, he thought.
"I asked what this was," he restated, now more to Grimmjow than to the two of them together.
"None of your fucking business," the blue-haired Arrancar spat venomously, motioning to walk away until the prospect of Ulquiorra making a deduction that would hurt his chances of seeing Orihime again rooted his feet.
"Excuse me?" The Cuarta responded monotonously.
"Ya heard me. It's not your concern. Aizen hasn't said anything about me not being allowed here."
Ulquiorra was being tried. "I am aware of that, but I am entrusted to the woman's well-being, and you are second only to Nnoitra as the most antagonistic to my duty. How long have you been here?"
"Hour and a half."
"I don't believe you."
"How old's that stain by the door? You tell me."
He had him there. Keeping on his guard, the shorter man inhaled the scent of the blood in front of the entrance and found that its age validated Grimmjow's claim. "I see. You expect me to believe that you were merely conversing with her?"
Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "I'm expecting you to stop being such a damn nag. I got bored, alright? Storm made it so I couldn't go out and hunt, so I decided to come here for a talk. I even brought her food since you're incapable of getting her to eat," he snarled, watching Ulquiorra investigate the tray that he himself had brought only to find it largely untouched save for a large bootprint. Apparently intrigued, he then moved to the plate on the table. At first he was confused by the scent it was emitting, but then the silverware did have only the woman's saliva on it.
"Woman, you have… strange tastes in meals."
Far from satisfied, he eyed the suspicious pair in hopes of finding something he could use for probable cause. Orihime was out of it, her face was held neutral, and she seemed anxious to be alone more than anything. And then there was Grimmjow who was quickly becoming his most formidable opponent on the grounds of simply getting in the way of doing what Aizen had requested of him. He was stalwart and his ancient stare told him that he was far from giving him any leverage.
This round was lost.
"Very well, then. If you are on your way, then please leave, Grimmjow. And do refrain from harming the guards in the future if you are to return." He swiveled his frigid inquiry back to the girl. "Woman."
"Y-yes?" Orihime piped up sheepishly.
"Alert me with your reiatsu if you encounter any trouble, understood?"
"Okay."
On that note, he ushered Grimmjow out of the room and sealed the hatch behind him.
"I have no idea what you're up to, but I will find the meaning behind this," Ulquiorra stated dryly, hailing a passing Numero and ordering him to stand guard in front of the door before vanishing.
Grimmjow let out a series of throaty chortles once the Cuarta's reiatsu signature was out of his range. He would find nothing. Only Aizen and the overseers had the authority to check the memory in the security control rooms, and none of them would consent to a full review of the cell's footage during such a busy time. He had won flawlessly. In a single day, he had accomplished his goal. Now, all that was left to do was wait until the others secured a location and the tools required for the operation to commence. To say he was excited would be an understatement.
Victory required a drink.
"Hey, over there!" he hollered, causing the recently-stationed Numero to look at him in surprise and then to the end of the long hallway where the Sexta had been pointing.
Not one to waste an opportunity, Grimmjow kicked the undersides of the sentry's knees in quick succession, shearing the joints with broken bone. He then pressed his foot against its back as he wrenched the head until it pointed to the floor, dislodging it from the spinal column and breaking the skin on the front of the neck. An easy snack. The reiryoku in the blood was enough for a private celebration.
It was dusk in Hueco Mundo's abstract sense of time. High above the dome of Las Noches, Grimmjow sat cross-legged on the broad marble balustrade overlooking the warzone below.
Countless Hollows had gathered on the desert surface to participate in the feeding frenzy brought about by the storm. He himself was not immune to the affects of the tempest either. His eyes had started to undergo their feral transformation some time since he had ventured out into the downpour of gelatinous spirit particles. He felt good. He felt similar to a time before Aizen.
His breaths were heavy, and every exhalation escaped as a primal hiss. This was a test for him; he would subjugate himself to it every rainy season. It was a challenge of mental willpower to see how long he could override his surging instincts in favor of what sanity remained. Several hours had gone by already, yet he was still going strong. His irises were even now refusing to morph into the shining golden hue that signaled complete Hollowfied regression.
That wasn't sufficed to say that he could keep it up forever.
In fact, he was about to call it a night when his heightened senses detected the descent of two familiar energy signatures behind him.
"I thought I might find you here," a velvety female voice called out over the thunder.
Side by side, Harribel and Starrk padded over to the railing that doubled as their friend's perch and leaned over on either side of him.
"Weather's a good thing," the Primera said after several moments of stormgazing. "Security will be toned down because no one can open a garganta to invade. That means the woman will be easier to keep in contact with and we don't have to worry about the bugs and cameras in our rooms."
"Speaking of which," the Tercera broke in, "how did your first meeting go? Well, I hope."
Grimmjow chuckled darkly. "Better than that, Tier." He waited to elaborate, not for dramatic flair but just because it would irk his packmates. "She's in already."
The Sexta could hear their surprise while he licked the rain from his lips.
"If this is a joke and you actually killed her or something, it's not funny." Starrk admonished, looking more awake than ever before. A few feet away, Harribel shared his sentiment with a wordless agreement.
"No joke. She's kinda an idiot with a big, bleeding human heart. I worked her in ninety minutes before Ulquiorra showed up and ruined it. And get this, she actually sympathizes with me even though she doesn't know a damn thing about the evolution process. A good sob story and a few false promises go a long way with that girl." Grimmjow was positively radiating arrogance over his manipulations. "All that's left is for you," he gestured to Harribel, "to get that food or whatever it is from the Octava and for you," now Starrk, "to find and secure a suitable location while I maintain my good standing with our little assistant."
Both higher ranked Espada nodded, their eyes slowly succumbing to the thunderstorm and shifting to yellow and blue sclera respectively.
"I scouted Szayel-Aporro's laboratory today and found where he keeps the cultured Hollows. I'll begin transporting them tomorrow while he's out experimenting in the rain like he's bound to do. If not, then I will amass them through other means," Harribel said assuredly, unwrapping what appeared to be candy and popping it under her collar.
"And I know a place with no surveillance that will work out fine," Starrk added with a yawn as he mimicked the dark-skinned woman's actions and lifted a piece of hard resin-like substance to his mouth.
"Uh-huh," Grimmjow said absentmindedly, "and what exactly is that stuff?"
Seeing as how the Primera had already left to go back to sleep, Harribel took it upon herself to provide an answer. "Condensed reiryoku... candies. Aizen began rationing these out a little while ago, but I suppose you were too busy ripping off the shutters and breaching the lockdown to hear the announcement. These are to keep us from turning feral, and I would like for you to take one if you are planning to see my Fraccion tonight. I don't want you feeding on them during the rainy season." Upon finishing her explanation, she promptly shoved a handful of the confections into Grimmjow's hands before leaving him alone in the rain.
"Gee thanks."
Seeing as how going on bloody rampage around Las Noches was set after successfully becoming a Vasto Lorde Arrancar on his to-do list, Grimmjow grudgingly sucked on one of the candies as he stepped over the bent sheet metal that had once barricaded his room from the monsoon. He then entered the double doors, bolted them, and dried himself off with a towel that he had scrounged up beforehand.
He could already feel the ferocity caused by the atmospheric disturbance begin to dispel while he broke the jawbreaker-like object with his canines. Much to his distaste, it was strawberry flavored. Oh, how he loathed strawberries.
Pushing past the bad taste, he dove backwards onto his bed and removed Pantera from his sash, setting it next to him atop the mattress.
The Zanpakutō made it made itself audibly known with a quiet rattle.
"What, you got somethin' to say?" Grimmjow mumbled into his bedspread, sparing a single curious eye over to his weapon. Another rattle, this time louder. "Want me to bring you out?" The sword shook in an apparent positive reply. "Alright, give me a minute, then."
The blue-haired hybrid sat up in a seiza position with his katana spread horizontally in front of his knees. He then took a few cleansing breaths and closed his eyes in concentration. Within seconds, the sword morphed into a luminous cyan light and shot across the room before the entire chamber was engulfed in a bright flash.
"Oh, we synched pretty fast this time."
At the other side of the bedchamber, a coat of sleek white fur shone from the light of the tumultuous sky outside.
A ghostly panther looked upon its partner in scrutiny, flicking its obsidian-tipped ears about every time thunder crashed outside. With graceful yet powerful movements, it leapt to the foot of the bed and nuzzled against Grimmjow's outstretched hand.
"I wanted to talk to you about what you're planning," Pantera said in his coarse, naturally growling tone.
Grimmjow shook his head sagely as if a past conjecture had just been confirmed. "I figured that you would, but say your piece quickly because I have three women upstairs on hold for me."
The phantasmal jungle cat gave a deep chuckle. "Just like you, I suppose. Well then, I'll go ahead and say that I support what you're doing, but I just wish for you to be a little more cautious. You see, abridged or not, you told that girl about our history and that's put me on edge."
Pantera pretended to ignore the scoff following his concerned request.
"It was for sympathy," Grimmjow justified with a wave of his hand. "So what if she figures out that all that time I spent in that cell put a lot of people on my kill list and that I'll start crossing off names as soon as she's through fixing me? I looked into her eyes and I know that woman's been around death before. She's suffered her fair share by human standards, and she won't let something like a little future bloodshed interfere with whatever's really motivating her to help me. I mean, she's stupid, but come on, she knows we're gonna be in a war soon."
He rested his jaw against the back of his wrist and cast a thoughtful glimpse to the side of the room. "We have the same goals, us and her. We all want to stay alive and get out of this in good shape for the future. Her survival instincts are strong enough to where she would allow me to kill her enemies at least if it meant living past the war."
"You seem so sure," the sword spirit trailed off, leaving the rest of his statement inside his head.
"I am. She's weak, desperate, and depressed. She might be a pacifist like you say, but she'll give that up in a heartbeat if it meant reaching our common goal. I guarantee you that," Grimmjow retorted adamantly.
"If you're so confident," Pantera began to glow an intense blue once more, "then I trust you, Heika." He gradually took the form of a sword, content to accompany the Sexta wherever his fate led him.
"I won't let ya down."
Like the Shinigami equivalent, an Arrancar's weapon is an expression of their soul.
In the process of evolution, we tend to cram all that reiryoku into a sword and just about everyone thinks that that's all that can be done with it, but I—and someone else who wouldn't appreciate it if I named him or her—have learned otherwise.
Back when I (or Lilynette, as we don't know who the original was and we share the same memories. Trust me when I say that it's a tired argument) was a Hollow, alone and wandering the desert for the two or three months after being released from my very cozy shared cell, I had a dream. In it, there was a lizard that had bitten off its own tail. The tail never grew back, but the tail itself became a smaller lizard and the two traveled together. It was a quite a telling premonition.
Loneliness makes you try strange things, so I broke off a piece of my mask, and well, it became Lilynette when I forced some power into it and made myself into a natural Arrancar.
So we kept each other company for a whole three hours until Aizen appeared, coincidentally just after I had divided myself, and recruited me back into his army.
Anyway, the point I'm trying to make in this entry is that reiryoku can be forced into a part of a Hollow's or newborn Arrancar's body such as a mask fragment in order to create another sentient life form or maybe even some kind of shape-shifting living sword thing…
-Primera Espada, Coyote Starrk and apparently Lilynette Gingerbuck who has in no way contributed to this entry but is nevertheless yelling at me all the way from another residential tower to include her name. I don't even know how she can see me from there.
'Hueco Mundo and its Inhabitants' pg. 191
