Low I:

Warszawa

"Are we lost again?" Mashiro's voice rang out in the dense, mineral forest of the Menos. "I told you we shouldn't have listened to Tomato-head!"

"Tomato-head?" Renji yelled over his shoulder, his brow tightening in anger. "Who are you to make fun of people's hair?"

"Just ignore her," Kensei said from his side, speaking gruffly but under his breath. "She gets like this any time she has to walk for more than five minutes."

"I'm sure it doesn't help that Kensei's here, too," Mashiro called out once more as she crossed her arms like an angry toddler. "He's such a dummy."

"Dummy?" Kensei yelled as he whirled around, balling his gloved fists in rage. "I'll show you a dummy!"

"Just ignore her, huh?" Renji asked in an exasperated tone, rolling his eyes as the two Vizards began their fourth yelling match of the day.

Soi Fon couldn't help but chuckle. While these little comedic acts were painfully immature, they did help in breaking the monotony of the Menos Forest. Aside from the two or three herds of Gillian they'd encountered, the subterranean jungle was rather unremarkable.

Her eyes darted off to the left as she felt Grimmjow's reiatsu die down once more. For some odd reason, she didn't need to concentrate on his energy; her mind would always shift whenever Grimmjow's reiatsu altered. After their first encounter with the Gillian, she'd felt his spirit power skyrocket. She'd absentmindedly kept her attention on him ever since, knowing full well that he'd be alright.

If there was anyone in the universe that Soi Fon held the upmost confidence in, it was Grimmjow Jaggerjaques.

During their twenty-five years together, they'd learned countless things about each other. She'd learned that he hated pork, but liked rare beef. She'd learned that his favorite color, surprisingly, was orange. She'd learned that he loved full moons and high noons.

And she'd learned that his fists would keep swinging until the last drop of blood had fallen from his body.

Grimmjow would always remain a ferocious and pragmatic tempest to her. Yet she wouldn't have it any other way. His recklessness and feral attitude had always been a staple of their relationship, but he wasn't without his little surprises. Once, and only once,he'd taken her out to a formal dinner, despite his obvious discomfort in a suit and tie. She couldn't tell if he'd been put up to the date or not; after all these years she still couldn't. Either way, she'd spent the entire night afterwards repaying him in their favorite fashion.

But he could also become a complete enigma. Soi Fon knew that Grimmjow loved winning more than anything in the world; for him, being looked down upon was worse than a slow and excruciating death. Yet on more than one occasion, he'd allowed a couple of academy grads to beat him in a practice match. Not to mention the handful of times he'd let her win against him.

As much as it hurt her pride to admit, Soi Fon realized that her third seat could kill the majority of Soul Society with his eyes closed. And in a one-on-one fight between the two of them, Grimmjow Jaggerjaques would more than likely emerge as the victor. And yet every time they'd fought against each other, she'd claimed the victory.

With the exception of two instances, of course. Once during the Winter War, and once during a drunken argument. But she'd actually been trying to kill him then; to this day, she was still happy that he'd beaten her. Those were of the few times in her life that she was happy she'd lost a fight.

Regardless of her confidence in him, however, she couldn't help but be on the ready to run to his aid. After twenty-five years of constant companionship and love, she couldn't allow his sense of pride to destroy what they had. If his ass needed bailing-out, she wanted to be more than ready to run that gauntlet to his aid.

"Kensei!" Mashiro's voice rang out, jolting Soi Fon out of her thoughts. "I'm tired! Can't we just get out of this cave yet?"

"Mashiro," Rukia spoke softly at the whining girl's side, "it's not that simple. There are only a few exits from the Forest of the Menos, and—"

"Why can't we just break through the top?" Mashiro cried as she fell to the ground and began to kick and punch the sand beneath her.

"Shut up, you big baby!" Kensei yelled out, his face turning a shade of angry red. "If there was ever a moment in your long and irritating life that you could just shut the fuck up, it would be right—"

The bellowing roar of a Gillian halted the Vizard's words in his throat.

Soi Fon immediately pulled Suzumebachi out from his scabbard, her instincts taking over at the sounding of a Hollow's cry. She held the blade upside down as she awaited the appearance of the unseen Menos, her eyes staring harshly into the dark unknown of the jungles beyond. Another howl ripped out through the silence, each of the Shinigami gripping the hilt of their blades tighter at the sound.

With a deafening roar, a blindingly bright cero crashed into the sand next to Soi Fon. She leapt back and upwards, the gold and black of her shikai melding itself around her wrist as she leapt up to the ivory face of the monster. With a quick pair of jabs, Soi Fon extinguished the massive Hollow, its towering black form disintegrating into nothingness as the two black homonkatwisted together in unison upon the beast's cheek.

She fell from her high leap effortlessly, her lithe body quickly and victoriously descending from the air, when another ceroripped through the atmosphere. Soi Fon quickly twisted her lean and limber body in mid-air, allowing the burning crimson to blow harmlessly below her midsection. Flipping herself backwards, Soi Fon readied herself for an offensive attack when she heard a small voice call out from below her.

"Next dance: Hakuren!"

Once more Soi Fon spun out of the way as a massive wave of ice flew towards her. The lieutenant of the fifth division's icy shikai slammed into the massive body of another Gillian, freezing the giant in its tracks. Soi Fon twirled herself around and kicked outwards, her foot crashing into the pillar of ice that held the giant Hollow's imprisoned form. The frozen structure cracked under the force of her kick, sending the glaciered Menos Grandeinto pieces upon the ground.

As her feet touched the ground however, Soi Fon noticed that an entire pack of Gillian had surrounded their little quintet. As her eyes looked up and out, she could count at least twenty of the white masks soaring above her head. Realizing that the horde was too much for even their elite team of fighters, Soi Fon began to charge up her shunkou, inviting the swelling power in each of her four limbs.

Yet as soon as the crowd of Menos had appeared, did they begin to vanish. Soi Fon stood in silent confusion as the last of the towering warriors retreated from them. She looked around herself, making eye contact and mentally agreeing with the confused looks that adorned her companion's faces. Gillian were supposed to be mindless beasts, so why were they running in fear after the killing of their brethren?

Almost as quickly as Soi Fon had asked herself this question did the answer appear.

Stepping into the small clearing that the five Shinigami had occupied was a pair of Hollows, each relatively human shaped. One of the two ghouls was obviously female; a pair of smooth and bland breasts adorned her chest, drawing attention from her hideously white-masked face. The other Hollow took the shape of a young boy, his underdeveloped torso shining out from beneath his skull-like face.

"Do you see this, Yseult?" the smaller of the two Hollow asked his feminine companion, his voice echoing out through his ghastly mask.

"I do, Drystan," she replied, her words sounding equally as unnerving behind her ivory mask. "The Shinigami have invaded our forest."

"What do you suppose we do with them?" the boy-hollow asked, ignoring the defensive postures of his opponents.

"Well that's obvious," Yseult replied, her clawed fingers shining in the dim light as she spoke."We must kill them, Drystan."

Grimmjow Jaggerjaques stalked his way through the forest of the Menos Grande, his hands held casually in his pockets. He was searching out into the crystalline trees, his pesquisa grasping out for a familiar reiatsu that he'd "misplaced".

He needed to find his goddamned zanpakuto.

Gantenbainne Mosqueda had given him a little more trouble than he'd expected. The orange-haired Espada had managed to land a rather painful blow on Grimmjow after their aerial fight had resumed. It hadn't done much; aside from slightly scarring his arm and severely irritating him, the yellow blast shouldn't have been much of a concern to him. Truly, it should have simply been shrugged off by the former Espada. But he'd allowed his temper to get the best of him. With a snarl, Grimmjow had thrown his sword at Gantenbainne, Pantera's blade shooting into the other Arrancar before sending him plummeting to the ground.

And now Grimmjow was looking for the man that his sword was attached to.

As careless as his attack had been, the blue-haired Arrancar wasn't too concerned. He could feelthat Gantenbainne was severely injured; the blue flame that represented his spirit power within Grimmjow's pesquisa was barely flickering. He could also feel that his zanpakuto was in the same exact location as his enemy, more than likely having injured the Espada enough to leave him immobilized. If Grimmjow could just figure out where the two sets of reiatsu actually were, he'd be in great shape.

As he moved deeper into the forest, the majority of Grimmjow's attention was suddenly forced elsewhere. He could feel that the spiritual signatures that belonged to the rest of his team were beginning to flare up again. Even during his fight against the former Privaron, Grimmjow had kept some of his attention on their reiatsu levels,mentally noting whenever they began to rise. As of this moment, the distant quartet had run into three separate conflicts, each one with Menos-level opponents. Despite his attentiveness, Grimmjow held little fear for their safety; he knew that Soi Fon could take care of a horde of Gillian by herself. The fact that the other four were with her simply helped boost his confidence in their overall wellbeing.

Grimmjow had sparred against Soi Fon countless times and he knew her abilities almost as well as he knew his own. Hell, a couple of times he even had to fight her for real. In their twenty-five years together, Grimmjow had learned – the hard way – that he should refrain from doing two things around his captain: the first was to never get drunk and insinuate that her small collection of black cat accessories was childish. The second was that when she locked him out of her room, it was a bad idea to pound on the door until she answered. Either of these things, which had incidentally happened in tandem one night, could leave him with an extremely venomous dagger at his throat.

Couple this event with the time that she'd tried to kill him during the War, and Soi had cut Grimmjow's proverbial nine-lives down by two.

Still, he couldn't help but pay attention to them. Despite Soi Fon's high level of ability, she wasn't invincible. She could outrun and out-maneuver almost any opponent, but she lacked physical endurance. The only reason that he'd been able to survive her first attempt on his life was because he was physically stronger than her. A couple of well-placed punches had left her on the ground. Grimmjow knew that one wrong move could easily cost her the fight, if not her life. So he maintained at least a corner of his mind on their whereabouts. If anything were to happen to them, to her, he wanted to be there as fast as he could.

After I find my fucking sword, of course.

Grimmjow stepped further into the mineral forest, his sharp eyes burning into the darkness for any sign of his wounded opponent. He could feel the presence of his Pantera nearby and, for the life of him, Grimmjow couldn't understand why he couldn't see the bright colors of Gantenbainne Mosqueda. Surely his ridiculous orange afro and white uniform should shine out like a beacon in these abysmal woods.

Grimmjow suddenly blinked hard as a falling water droplet smacked the tip of his nose. He reached his hand up to his face and wiped, removing the liquid from his skin. As his palm pulled away, however, he finally caught a glimpse of color in this monochrome forest. He held his hand out and noted the crimson streak that was spread along his fingertips. As he looked down at the strange blood, wondering why the hell it was on his face, another droplet fell into his outstretched palm. Followed quickly by another.

And another.

Grimmjow looked up and smiled, his eyes trailing the scarlet trickle up through the air; high above his head hung Gantenbainne Mosqueda, his white-clad body pinned to a crystal tree as Grimmjow's zanpakuto stuck out of his stomach.

The blue-haired Arrancar slowly lifted himself into the air, his hands returning to his pockets as he gradually ascended to his opponent's altitude within the canopy. Grimmjow came to a stop as his eyes looked directly into those of the groaning Espada. Gantenbainne's head drooped slightly in exhaustion, blood staining his lips and chin. He looked up into the blue eyes of his former superior; his face had grown pale and was gleaming with sweat. The flesh around Pantera's blade was ragged and torn, showing Grimmjow that his captive had struggled to release himself from his entrapment against the pillar behind him.

Grimmjow reached out and tugged slightly at the handle of his sword, noting that it was holding fast inside the abdomen of the other Arrancar. Gantenbainne groaned in pain as the metal within his intestines moved at Grimmjow's touch. The former Espada smirked viciously as Gantenbainne's teeth grinded together in pain, blood coming out from his stressed gum-line.

"Did you know," Grimmjow asked casually, again twisting the grip of the zanpakuto in his hands, "that within Soul Society's second division there is a sub-unit called 'the Punishment Force'?" Gantenbainne glared at him, but Grimmjow gleefully continued.

"While I'm usually assigned to the 'Detention Unit', my captain will occasionally request my assistance within the other units. Assisting within the Punishment Force is, by far, my favorite." Grimmjow licked his lips slightly as he looked into the defiant eyes of his captive, his tone slightly mocking. "Wanna take a guess on what we do in the Punishment Force?"

Gantenbainne snarled and spat blood into Grimmjow's face, the deep crimson liquid landing against his cheek with an audible splatter. Grimmjow chuckled slightly as he once more found himself wiping this man's blood from his face.

He lashed out quickly, planting a fist into Gantenbainne's gut, just to the right of where the sword entered his flesh. The orange-haired Espada gasped out in pain as more blood fell from his mouth. Grimmjow stepped back slightly before sending another jab forward, his fist plowing directly into the face of his imprisoned victim. The bone of Gantenbainne's nose crunched under his knuckles and his head snapped back, banging loudly against the crystalline tree behind him.

"In case you couldn't tell," Grimmjow said calmly, shaking his hand slightly after the punches, "we punish people in the Punishment Force."

Gantenbainne looked up at him, one of his eyes beginning to swell shut against the broken bones in the bridge of his nose. Despite his obvious pain, he kept his good eye trained harshly on Grimmjow; if anything, the blue-haired Arrancar had to commend this man for his ability to take a good beating. Still, he had a mission to accomplish; there was no time for admiration.

"Now," Grimmjow continued pedagogically, his voice sounding as though he was a professor giving a study lesson. "These punishments are usually, but not always, accompanied by an interrogation. The length and severity of the punishment directly correlate with your responses during the interrogation. You followin' what I'm sayin'?"

When Gantenbainne simply looked away, his brown irises cutting swiftly to the right, Grimmjow once more lashed out at him with his hand, the back of his balled fist arcing across the other Arrancar's jaw. He immediately crossed the hand back the way it came, his knuckles smashing into the cheek of his victim. As Gantenbainne's head flew to the side, Grimmjow locked his fingers upon the man's throat, his palm crushing against his windpipe, forcing the battered face to look at him.

"You don't seem to get how this works," Grimmjow said sharply as fresh blood began to leak from his victim's flesh. "When I ask a question, you answer it. Otherwise I get to hurt you some more. Understand?"

Despite the severe force against his throat, and the threat that it implied, Gantenbainne still refused to even meet Grimmjow's eyes. In a lightning-quick movement, the former SextaEspada's hand reached down and grabbed at his opponent's. With a disturbing level of ease, Grimmjow snapped Gantenbainne's index finger backwards, the bone breaking as the tip of the digit touched his own wrist. The action was soon repeated with his middle finger, the Décimo Espada groaning in pain along with a sickening crack. Grimmjow's grip slid over to the next finger in line, but stopped as his fist closed upon it. He regarded his fellow Arrancar with a wicked grin.

"Do you understand?"

Gantenbainne, his pallid face reddening against the pressure on his neck and the pain in his hand, nodded slightly as his good eye maintained its burning focus on Grimmjow. The blue-haired Arrancar chuckled slightly and released the grip on his throat, causing him to suck in a breath of much needed air. He left his fist curled around Gantenbainne's finger, twisting it slightly as he began to speak again

"Glad we're finally on the same page," Grimmjow said, his casual tone returning as his wrist flicked sharply to the left, snapping the bone of his captive's ring finger. "Let's start off with an easy one, shall we?" His eyes darkened slightly as he spoke, his voice cutting through the Arrancar's groaning. "Where's the hogyouku?"

"I don't know," Gantenbainne said hoarsely, his voice trembling slightly as he tried to maintain control over the pain that was coursing through his entire being. "I've only seen it once. Halibel hides it whenever it's not being used."

"Halibel?" Grimmjow asked, genuine surprise ringing in his voice. "She came back? Who the fuck else is in Las Noches?"

"Halibel and Stark are running things," he responded through broken lips. "Everything else is a revolving door; none of the Espada's ranks have stayed the same for more than a year."

Grimmjow's head began to spin slightly. Halibel and Stark had the hogyouku and had amassed a following? It was too out of character for the two of them to continue their attack on Soul Society without Aizen's direction. It was well known within the Espada that the Primera, Segundo, and Terceira followed Aizen Sousuke solely for their own benefits. The idea of them propagating Aizen's ideals in his absence was mentally staggering to him.

"How long has this been going on?" Grimmjow asked gravely, forcing himself back to the interrogation. He didn't like what he had heard thus far; the sound of their enemies having any sort of organization within their ranks was extremely alarming. He'd much preferred the idea of these new Espada being a rag-tag collection. But now they held the hogyouku as well as an army that could very well be stronger than the one Aizen had put together. This could prove extremely problematic.

"I joined them ten years ago," Gantenbainne croaked out, interrupting his thoughts. "But they'd had their plans laid before then."

"What are they planning?" Grimmjow glared forward into the face of his detainee. Gantenbainne smirked and chuckled, his weak voice coming out in a taunting snicker, but he did not answer the question.

"What are they planning?" Grimmjow asked again, his voice seeping out through angrily clenched teeth. When the Espada before him once more ignored the inquiry, the arrogant smile still held on his face, Grimmjow reached out and grabbed him by the throat once more.

"Answer the fucking question!" he yelled, his voice ringing out and echoing through the mineral canopy. Gantenbainne continued to hold his intense stare on him, causing Grimmjow to reach down with his free hand and rip the blade out from its hold in the Espada's flesh. The orange-haired Arrancar choked up blood in surprise as the zanpakuto was pulled from his belly, the red liquid sputtering out of his mouth and speckling upon Grimmjow's forearm. The former Espada growled as he looked at the man's face, his now blood-splattered left hand acting as the only thing keeping the Hollow pinned against the crystalline pillar.

Grimmjow suddenly sliced downward with his sword and removed Gantenbainne's left arm; a clean cut, the blade severing the limb just below the shoulder. Within the same movement, Grimmjow sheathed Pantera and pulled his opponent's katana from its scabbard. He quickly placed the thin blade of Dragra through Gantenbainne's chest, successfully re-pinning him to the stone column with his own zanpakuto. Blood sprayed out from both of these fresh wounds, and a storm of the vile liquid spewed out into the darkened air.

He released his hold on Gantenbainne's throat then, allowing the orange head to fall forward in fatigue. Despite the loss of his arm and the newly opened hole in his torso, Gantenbainne Mosqueda hardly made a sound. For all intents and purposes, the noise that came out of his mouth should have been a scream of agony. Instead, only a small series of ragged gasps escaped his ruined lips.

Grimmjow scoffed and turned in the air slowly, his back now facing his former compatriot; he knew that the man before him was about to perish. No amount of torture or violence could pull an answer out from his broken jaws. With a dejected grunt he began to leave, once more seeking out the reiatsuof his comrades. Whether it was because of his hatred for Soul Society or his loyalty towards the new Espada, Gantenbainne wouldn't be answering anymore of his questions.

"Grimmjow."

The voice was barely audible, but it was enough to surprise him into turning around. Gantenbainne Mosqueda was lifting his head up from his chest, trying his best to make eye contact with Grimmjow. Despite his curiosity being piqued, the former Espada made no indication of interest aside from a slightly arched eyebrow.

"Why?" his former companion asked, his voice bubbling slightly against the blood in his throat. "Why did you join Soul Society?"

Grimmjow's light blue eyes widened at the innocuous question. There was no malice or scorn contained within those words; only a true air of confusion had laced the dying man's inquiry. Grimmjow sighed and stepped closer to his fellow Arrancar.

"Because they gave me the opportunity of another chance," he replied sincerely. "Because they took me in when Aizen had cast me aside."

Gantenbainne smiled weakly with blood speckled lips. "How lucky you must feel…" His voice began to fail him as the trickle of blood from his stomach lessened. "To sit at the top again… to be treated as an equal… to be cared about… when…"

The last sentence washed out as Gantenbainne Mosqueda, the last of the original Arrancar, faded away into death.

Grimmjow Jaggerjaques sighed lightly before turning around and walking away, leaving the bloodied body of his former companion stapled against the rocky post. Despite the information he'd gained, the interrogation had left a sour taste in his mouth. Though it was true that he'd carried out his share of tortures, Grimmjow still despised the job.

His head snapped up as he once more felt Soi Fon's reiatsuflare. It wasn't too far away this time; he knew he could make it in less than five minutes. Nonetheless, he began to move as fast as he could.

The fact that her energy signature was accompanied by a pair of Vasto Lordewas more than enough to get him moving.

Stark watched the Menos Forest with passing interest, his droopy eyelids widening only once at the appearance of Hueco Mundo's final two Vasto Lorde. Aside from this, however, things were simply uninteresting. After all, he'd already lost his curiosity in those two Hollow long ago; they were adamant about remaining underground, so he'd long since considered them dead.

It was these new intruders that had held his attention.

Stark had left Las Noches under Halibel's jurisdiction. While he understood the importance that the next few days held for their mission, he'd also had an epiphany. He could no longer afford to spend his hours locked under the dome of Aizen's castle; he knew that Halibel could efficiently direct the actions of their army, therefore he'd given her control. If he needed to take investigate something, he felt as though their initial plans could continue without his input.

He had come up with a secondary plan, anyway.

As he floated within the darkened canopy of the Menos Forest, Stark mused over his new course of action. He had held his hopes high for the former Sexta, but recent events had left him doubting his initial instincts. While Grimmjow Jaggerjaques was still a cold-blooded killer, his alliances were whole-heartedly with Soul Society. Stark knew that approaching the blue-haired Arrancar would only result in an unwanted conflict.

It was a damn shame, too. Had he been able to be swayed, Grimmjow would have made a wonderful addition to their new legion of Espada; after all, they still had to fill the second and fourth spots in the ranks. Who knew what power could be awakened in Grimmjow's Panteraafter a second exposure with the hogyouku?

Unfortunately, the merciless defeat of Gantenbainne had spoken volumes against Stark's theory. Grimmjow had always been a bit of a loose cannon; would an increase in strength truly be a good idea? After witnessing the cruel session of torture, Stark was almost happy that he hadn't offered the former Espada his job back.

Stark sighed as he watched the Décimo Espada die beneath his feet.

I guess it just wasn't meant to be, he thought as he pressed his index finger into the air in front of him. The dark, throat-like portal opened at his touch and Stark cast a tired but weary glance back at the Menos Forest as he stepped into the garganta. He understood the power that this team of Shinigami held within its ranks; one wrong move and they could be toppled instantly. He simply hoped that things would go according to plan from here on out. As the garganta closed, he smiled.

In the spirit of imperialism, he was going to visit the transient world once again.

author's note

sorry again for the delay. school was taking up my priorities.

grimm and soi are so cute when they think of each other. and so is mashiro when she's being a moron.

and the grimmjow torture scene wasn't too bad until my little sister came over to my apartment and read it. her immediate reaction was, "you call THAT a torture scene? grimmjow didn't even break any of afro-dudes's fingers!" so, understandably, i had to make it a bit more intense.

sneaky stark is still sneaky.

rrrrrrrrrrreviews please!i do love them so.

jta!~

warszawa - david bowie