The day was so silent in Las Noches. No explosions from Szayel's room, no snoring from Stark, no arguing from Halibel's subordinates, and strangest of all, no rants about justice from Tousen. There was something wrong, I knew it. It was practically tangible, seeping through halls and under doorways. I quickened my pace, almost running, to the front gates of the palace.
As I drew closer to the door, I saw something inching across the floor, staining the carpet a darker color. Pushing open the door, I saw a horrifying sight; Espadas were dead everywhere, and someone was eating them. It wasn't a hollow because the reitasu was completely different. Furthermore, Aizen-sama had recently found something that the Hōgyoku could create, an everlasting barrier that would protect against all hollows and shinigami, ensuring the palace's safety. As I drew closer, I unsheathed my zanpaktou. The dead Espadas were proof that this was not a foe to be trifled with.
As I drew closer, I was the silhouette of a man. The way the cloak flapped in the wing suggested that it was a member of soul society. I frowned; how on earth did this shinigami get in? Was the Hōgyoku barrier that weak? I pushed these thoughts aside as I stalked forward, closing the distance between me and the enemy of Aizen-sama. Then, I saw the man's face. Bone-white mask covered the entire face. Red streaks shot out in all directions on one side of the face. The eyes... deep yellow, like molten gold, with black surrounding it, a black as dark as the nights without moon in Huedo Munco. Arrancar blood dripped from its teeth, onto the man lying near its feet.
The arrancar that was immobilized in front of the demon was familiar... all too familiar. He had electric blue hair and remnants of a jawbone on the right side of his face. He was bleeding too much, too much for it to be possible for him to survive. The man knelt down, and crushed the remaining leg as he tried to crawl away. Grimmjow's hoarse yell echoed through the dry, desert air. Lifting his head up, our eyes met. Even though I could not hear him, I knew what he said. He called out to me. Ulquiorra. And a split second later, that shinigami-devil crushed his head with his zanpaktou's hilt. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, the one you never thought would die, disappeared forever.
"Grimmjow!" I yelled, as I bolted upright.
Panting slightly, I flopped back down. That was the fifth time I had that dream. What was so special about the Sexta? My thoughts started to drift towards his blue eyes, his muscles, and his slightly insane smile as I pondered this question.
I shook my head to clear it. I must remember to only think of Aizen-sama, as we exist only to serve him. Feelings make us weak, and so then we cannot protect our lord from the disgusting shinigami, which makes us trash. We are replaceable and once we are replaced, we lose our respect from our god. We, no, I must not let that happen to me, of all people. My loyalty must stay unwavering and steady.
I climbed out of bed, and trudged into my shower. The decor was basically the same as the rest of the palace bathrooms, stark white tiling and walls, but I had one exception. The mirror that was originally in front of the sink was replaced by a gothic 4 design. The first day I got this room, I cero-ed the mirror and requested for Aizen-sama to allow me my choice of design. Obviously, he agreed. I hated mirrors. They reflected the emotions and turmoil in me every morning, when I was still unprepared. I already knew I was weak, but I didn't need anything to remind me.
As I stepped into the shower, I relaxed. The heat of the water felt nice on my normally cold skin. I let my mind go blank and tried to focus on nothing but the daily tasks that Aizen-sama assigned for us, and I must remember to feed the human guest. Aizen-sama gave specific instructions, and I need to follow through, even if I never understood what was so special about the girl, keeping her happy. We could just force her to show us how to use the time-reversal powers and kill her, but if Aizen-sama insists, then I have no right to disagree.