Cold Interface

Like Ice

The world was a finite thing. It was small. It was crowded. It was insignificant. Compared to the stars out in that black sea of a night sky, Earthland was but a spec of dust on a God's shoulders. This meant Grimmjow was even smaller. Each human life amounted to something close to nothing. And yet each day, every single human being lived like what they were doing was important. Like they mattered. In the grand scheme of — of what, he didn't know — things, people were ants with little importance. The politics of the world were more or less a play of entertainment. The malice seeping in and out of The Factory higher ups, tyrants, and monarchs was always present. It was merely dormant in some. This malice spread like a plague from country to country, infecting even its people with a disdain for other people. Abhorrence swelled in everyone's hearts, and everyone liked to believe that they held value.

They didn't.

Grimmjow supposed hrisviews on things were a bit overly cynical, but he didn't really care. He didn't like politics. No. Not politics. He didn't like people. Growing up on the streets of Japan had indeed toughened his exterior as well as his interior, but it had also illuminated the vile humanity surrounding him. Human tendency was to survive. That's all anyone ever wanted. Money, sex, and power were the three most things coveted by the men who walked this planet. But even those were a subset of the true desire — survival. Being in power meant being able to ensure one's own life, as well as control others. Money only helped to gain and retain power. And sex was a natural and quite animalistic inborn desire, as it kept the population going. It was depressing, really, that all these people valued such things instead of raw happiness.

Grimmjow had never had anything in his life worth living for other than himself. Before getting kidnapped and being forced to work in The Factory, he was a loan shark in Raeka. If Rukia thought Habrinnia was bad, she wouldn't last five minutes in Raeka. The anarchy there was amplified tenfold, and murderers were left to run the streets. Poverty was not the biggest threat to everyone — evil men were.

It was almost a blessing to be in that cave with Rukia. They were no longer forced to slave away for twelve hours. They no longer had to watch over their shoulders for bad men. All they had to worry about was finding some food and fending off the cold, which compared to Habrinnia and Raeka was nothing.

But Grimmjow knew they couldn't stay there for long. They had to keep moving so that if anyone was following them, they wouldn't have a chance to catch up. Grimmjow wasn't stupid. They wanted Rukia for something. He didn't know what it was, but he knew she hadn't been brought to The Factory for her biceps. The petite girl was meant to serve a purpose, one that she had to serve alive. That bitch Ulquiorra had even went so far as to try and drug her to bring her back. That meant they really wanted her. And just her.

Though he wouldn't admit it, he had to protect her. He wasn't in fuckin' love with her or anything, but they were friends. Just like Ichigo had been their friend. He wasn't so heartless that he couldn't see that. Even if she wasn't talking to him right now and had proclaimed she hated him, she was still safe. He could deal with the cold shoulder if it meant her being alive. And as if on cue, Rukia had to go and fuck things up.

"Where are you going?" Grimmjow inquired. He rested against the wall as a fire was crackling in front of him. Using a sharp rock, he was busy carving a thick branch into a makeshift spear.

"I'm going for a walk. By myself." Her voice was cold and impassive, her eyes equally impartial.

"No you're fuckin' not. Not by yourself."

Rukia gritted her teeth and glared at him. "You're not in charge of my actions."

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way. It's your goddamn choice." His cerulean eyes lifted boredly to meet hers. He scraped the rock harshly against the stick, again and again as he stared at her. The dull expression on his face was intimidating, overpowering even. A warning.

But Rukia was too obstinate to succumb to his glare. Without another word, she turned and walked out of the cave. Grimmjow said nothing and stood up. Tapping his index finger against the tip of the wooden spear, he deemed it sharp enough to pierce through flesh if thrown hard enough. Running a hand through his hair, he walked out of the cave and glanced around. His eyes landed on Rukia, her raven hair sticking out amongst the snow.

The ground was not heavily covered with it. There was maybe an inch, and no more was falling. In fact, it seemed to be melting even though the sun was now setting. The air was notably warmer, though still frigid and cold enough to make the hair on his arms stand on end. Walking toward her, he called out for her to stop. She said nothing and kept walking, that damned stubborn nature of hers ever so prominent. His eyes narrowed dangerously, and he sped up his pace. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he twisted her around.

Rukia dipped her shoulder down to free herself from his grip, consequently allowing her to take a step back. He moved forward to match her step, however, and reached forward to grab her again. Neither of them realized the slope they had approached, the thin white blanket doing well to make it look flatter than it actually was.

In a sudden motion, they both lost their footing and began sliding down the slight hill. Though, the two were more concerned with each other rather than their rolling bodies. They wrestled with each other. Rukia shoved and hit at him, trying to get him off her, while he kept his grip on her shoulders. Redness filled her cheeks as anger swelled inside of her, but his countenance remained emotionless.

"Get off!" she yelled, bearing her teeth like an animal.

"No."

He was done playing games. If she was going to act like a child, he would treat her like a child. He was done with her fuckin' bullshit. All he was trying to do was protect her dumb ass, and she wanted to go run out like they were in a mother fucking winter wonderland where no one was after them. She needed a goddamn wake up call, and he was about to give it to her. And while both their attention were focused on each other, neither realized the approaching body of water.

Their bodies rolled down the bank and crashed into the icy water. A thin, breakable layer of ice covered the lake, save for the part they had broken by falling in. Instantly, Rukia's body went into shock at the extreme coldness. She inhaled and stiffened up, as she was neither mentally nor physically prepared to be submersed in freezing water. She tried to think, but no thoughts came. Instead, a thousand needles pricked at her skin until she felt numb.

Grimmjow's eyes widened. His body shuddered under the water, but he forced himself to maintain consciousness. Moving his arms, he swam toward Rukia and looped on arm around her waist. He pulled her up and swam to the bank. Rolling her on top of the snow-covered grass, he climbed over her and stared down at her. Instead of the cliche worried-filled eyes a man would usually have in his position, he resorted to the only thing he knew how to embrace: anger. His eyebrows knit together in a furrow. He placed his ear to her chest, and he heard no breathing.

"Come the fuck on, Rukia!" he exclaimed as he pinched her nose and pressed his lips over hers, blowing in with inexperience. He didn't know how to do this, but he had seen it done before. Pumping her chest a few times, he then blew into her mouth once more. After a second compression, she turned her head to the side and spewed water. Coughing, she sat up and shivered. Grimmjow wrapped an arm around her, getting ready to pick her up, until he heard footsteps behind them.

"Wow. You never seemed like the hero type to me. Been softening up, hm?" Nnoitra grinned down at the two.

Author's Note: Hey guys! Sorry for the meh chapter. I'll try and make the next one a little better. I seem to have a knack for getting muse at 4:30 in the morning, so that may be why.