There weren't many things Grimmjow noticed about her.

He had never noticed the color of her eyes. He didn't know what style she kept her hair in, or if she changed it often. He could hardly tell if she washed it. He didn't give her too many options as far as clothes and accessories went; just enough to sustain herself.

He didn't know what her favorite color was, or her favorite food. He didn't know if she had any siblings, or grandparents, or cousins. He didn't know what kind of music she liked, or what her hobbies were. He never asked what she aspired to do or become, or what she accomplished.

But what he did discover, he remembered. There was a certain spot on her neck where she loved to be kissed. She blushed when their hands would touch. She always slept on her left side on the right side of the bed. She had a tendency to play with her hair and bite her lips when she was nervous. And, for whatever reason, she really loved him.

He watched her sleep, her chest rising and falling with every breath. He tried to keep his breathing in time with hers, but it didn't work. Grimmjow quickly grew bored of doing this and stood up from the bed, walking over to the window. The vast expanse of emptiness in Hueco Mundo delighted him for some reason, and he recalled what Natsumi had said when he first brought her here.

"This is it?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow at the landscape. Although she tried to appear bored, Grimmjow could sense her fear of the nothingness.

Over time, he supposed she had forgotten about what was out there, or what wasn't. But she never did. She just cared about him enough to distract her from her fears, and ignore his lack of knowledge about her. He didn't have to know the petty details to make her heart soar.