DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Bleach'. All rights belong to Tite Kubo. I only own this fanfiction. Thank you.

Send the Pain Below

There hadn't been that much of a difference between high school and the rest of Grimmjow's years in attendance at any other learning institution. Aside from getting kicked out of one in his middle school years, the setup had been the same. Oh, and in his first year at Karakura High, he'd met the Espada.

Quickly, the stakes had been upped. He'd gone from being a common thug to being someone with rank and power. His 'family' hadn't known about any of this-still caught up in their own worlds of binging and clashing. But at least they didn't bug him anymore, or try nearly as often to lay a hand on him. Especially knowing that he could fight back now.

The Espada had given him all that he'd been searching for in his life, up until that moment. They gave him acceptance. They gave him status. They gave him respect. They acknowledged his strength, his rage, his utter destructive nature, and in exchange gave him top priority. He could now show the entire world what he thought of them, and not have to worry a single iota about 'getting caught' or 'repercussions'. This group was the new crime wave. They were the next big thing. Like a fledgling band, about to make it big in the music industry, turning it upside down. Or a sickness, about to go viral.

School hadn't mattered much to him. Sure, he could do the work, but for the most part there was never much of an incentive to complete it. His teachers were all judgmental pricks and bitches, sneering down their noses at him and his crew, but never gutsy enough to actually stand up and tell them off. They could give them the mandated punishments, but they couldn't enforce them at all. It was a joke. A tired old joke, indeed.

High school had brought him one more prize-or was it a challenge? That skinny, loud-mouthed, hands-in-his-pockets strawberry-blond haired champion of justice, named Kurosaki Ichigo. And his crew of do-gooders.

Grimmjow could remember the very first time they'd met. It had been by the vending machine on the school campus, near the auditorium. He'd been there with one of his comrades, another thug who worked under him named Ilforte Grantz, a sibling to one of the main Espada. Unlike his younger brother however, his strength was mainly brute. The soda machine hadn't been working properly, but there was no sign up stating that it was out of order, so the blasted thing had eaten Ilforte's change without coughing up a drink.

It wasn't like he couldn't get more money somewhere else-and a whole lot more of it, pocket change was nothing to cry over-but Grantz was determined to have his way that day. What could he say, other than he was bored? And if he couldn't get a drink, then he'd get satisfaction over knowing that he'd been the one to turn that contraption on its head. Thus, the assault had begun. Kicking, punching, shaking, cursing-it was all there and accounted for. The male looked somewhat pathetic though, Grimmjow had to admit secretly to himself, attacking the machine.

The noise must have attracted the flies. That had to be it. The campus was relatively quiet, seeing as most of the kids had gone home already, aside from those who had stayed behind for the day's after school activities or practices. They'd just been slumming it, seeing as neither really had anywhere to go, and no orders had been issued by the higher ups; no jobs to do, no bodies to beat into submission, or necessary fees to collect for the gang's future endeavors.

But whatever the case, the thrashing and crashing had been interrupted by a sudden "Don't you two lowlifes have anything better to do than ruin the fun for everyone else?" And there he stood, that bright, spiky hair of his like a lighthouse beacon, amber brown eyes narrowed as two of his friends stood behind him, like stoic statues. Kurosaki Ichigo. As for his companions...

One was deeply tanned, with wavy dark locks that fell over his eyes and a muscular form that would've fit right in with the Espadas. The other was, again, on the slender side, with inky, sleek parted locks and thin rimmed glasses that rested perfectly upon the bridge of his nose. He and that pink-haired science cadaver freak, Szayel-the younger brother of Ilforte-may have gotten along well together. Grimmjow had no idea. If he recalled correctly though, their names were Sado 'Chad' Yasutora and Ishida Uryuu.

All he knew was that if these three were looking for a fight, they were gonna get it. As a preemptive measure, he began to crack his knuckles. Ilforte, on the other hand, preferred to strike out with words first-but only a few. "And who said this concerns you anyway, you goody-goody? Back off, and leave the grown ups to their work." He spat at the ground.

"Big talk coming from a guy who's taking out frustrations on something that can't fight back. Or is that the only way you'd be able to win?" A vein had twitched in Ilforte's forehead, though he'd held back on lunging. But the potential for a strikeout was enough to scatter the trio into three spaces. Ichigo's attention was no longer focused on Grantz, but on his quiet companion. Namely, Grimmjow. "Jeagerjaquez. That's your name, right? Jeagerjaquez and your little underling. One of the biggest bullies in this school, next to the rest of your crew."

The blue-haired male had shrugged, giving Ichigo a cocky sneer. "Takes one to know one, in my experience. So, who have you been fucking over, Ku-ro-sa-ki?" If this was a contest of throwing out names, then he could do the same, with just as much condescension.

"Nobody. I'm not as petty as you." Grimmjow had to laugh at this. "Bullshit! If that were the case, you'd be able to shrug off all those wannabes who keep heckling you over your hair." Not like Grimmjow hadn't gotten the string of nasty comments about his sky-blue locks. He'd just learned to make the peanut gallery shut up. With his rage. Their taunts couldn't begin to equal the fury behind his actions. And now, no one said anything.

"I only strike back because they start something first. When did this conversation turn to me, anyway? I'm not the bully here." Grimmjow had smirked, walking right up to Ichigo, until he was less than a foot from him. "And again, I call bullshit. You're just like me-you like to fight. The only difference is, I don't wait for a reason."

"Which makes you even trashier, in my opinion." That little pencil-necked four eyes had actually dared to say something! Bravo! He had balls! But that didn't necessarily make him any bigger, in Grimmjow's eyes. By this point, Ilforte was getting impatient. "Grimmjow! Let's crush these pathetic insects!"

Grimmjow's sneer had turned into a grin then, and he'd easily assumed a fighting stance. "Fine by me." In response, Ichigo had taken a step back, but was ready to strike out if needed-he could see it in his gaze, and body language. "You really wanna do this here?"

He'd shaken his head then. "Just shut up, Mister Preacher, and gimme all you got!" Without hesitation, Grimmjow had lunged, swinging out to try and catch Ichigo's face on the end of his fist. Ilforte had stepped in too, nearly tripping up the thin redhead. If he hadn't jumped back just a few inches at the last second, and then some, Kurosaki's mug would've looked like reheated spaghetti. "Fighting dirty?"

"Feh! It ain't my fault if you ain't ready!" Spitting at the ground, Grimmjow decided to humor his opponent. "Ilforte, stay outta this one. He's mine." His partner began to protest, but Grimmjow's cold stare was enough to silence him, at least for the time being. "Aww, you're no fun. Next time we're on patrol, I get first dibs, then."

"Whatever. I don't care." Grimmjow was eager to get a taste of Kurosaki's blood, and nobody was going to take that opportunity from him. "Hurry up and get ready." Watching as the boy began to prep himself for a conflict, telling his friends to stay out of it-"One-on-one is one-on-one. He's got some warped sense of honor? Well, I do too."-Grimmjow could feel his body tensing, his muscles twitching, ready for a taste of the conflict about to come-

"Hey! What are you all doing here?"

"What the hell? Who messed up the vending machine?"

Yep. His first encounter with Ichigo had been interrupted and effectively ended by a pair of meddling teachers who just happened to be thirsty as well. The group had split, and the day had become another memory in Grimmjow's mind.

It was one thing to mess up a student-although they could've messed up the instructors as well, it wasn't worth the extra trouble and round of setbacks it could ultimately bring. What if they hauled in the cops? And they started sniffing around where they weren't supposed to? There were still a few that believed in a silly thing like 'justice'. And he didn't want to be on the other end of explaining that to his boss. At that time, Sosuke Aizen was nothing short of 'God'.

But it was one incident that he planned on reliving, minus the end. Which he did, many times over in the days to come.

By the time their second year in high school had rolled around, it wasn't a secret that the Espada and Ichigo's crew were the hottest rivalry on campus. Both sides were out for blood, for various reasons, though the main one was simply that Grimmjow liked to seek and destroy. And Ichigo made for a great adversary.

One day though, things changed. The stakes were raised, in the blink of an eye. And it had all started with a fist and a voice.

…...

"No! Kurosaki-kun!"

It was just a fight. Another fight, another quarrel. More blood was shed, more curses were hurled. Another day, as always. This time, Grimmjow had gotten the upper hand. Ichigo's defeat had loomed, imminent, on the horizon. And the male had practically been salivating at the thought.

Okay, maybe he was going a little overboard in his rampage. He hadn't been trying so much to defeat Ichigo as he was trying to tear him apart. The crowd that had gathered was wincing and groaning at the blows being thrown, both hopeful for a teacher to come and break up the display, but on the other hand, unable to look away from the carnage involved. Ichigo's friends had been standing on the sides, not allowed to do anything to help, what with Ichigo and his stubborn 'protection pride' in place.

But she hadn't known that. She hadn't known any of it, he was sure of it. Which is why he found himself face-to-face with the enigma who was soon to be known as none other than Inoue Orihime.

One moment, Grimmjow had been ready to crush a bleeding and bruised falling Ichigo underfoot, as his friends looked on in horror. The next, his view had been obscured, by the curvy, full body of a young girl with flowing red locks and a determined grey gaze. Her skin was pale, oh so pale, and stood out in contrast to her fiery hair. Aside from that though, hell, she and Kurosaki could've been siblings! She didn't seem to care that his blood was staining her uniform top, or that now, the screams of his friends were aimed at her, as they stormed the field, all previous agreements forgotten.

Who was she? Why was she interrupting his fight? Who the hell did she think she was, some sort of angel? Even Ichigo seemed displeased by her actions, barely managing to say her name as he was taken from her arms and hauled to his feet, to lean on supportive figures. "I-Inoue-san...what are...what the h-hell are you...doing?"

That was the start of Grimmjow's trip down the rabbit hole.

…...

Inoue Orihime hadn't known that Ichigo was going to fight Grimmjow that day.

Neither had Inoue Orihime known much about Ichigo and his friends being in this mess with Grimmjow and his gang, for a little over a year now.

As she made her way down the hill, back towards the train station, the memories flashed across her mind's eye, like a blinking neon sign. She hadn't known just how deeply it ran, this feud of theirs, protected and shielded by her friends and their consorts. Whenever the subject came close to cropping up, it was quickly changed and averted; whenever Grimmjow or his cronies had been drawing near, the girl had been pushed in the opposite direction, for whatever reason thought up by her gal pals on the fly.

It hadn't been done out of malice. It had been done to keep her from worry. Soften her from the cruelty of seeing her friends, nakama, all beaten up without any other reason than "Oh, street punks." Or "Ah, somebody in another class started a ruckus." Or "Oh, I was clumsy off-campus." It was all caused by the same people, day after day.

She knew vaguely of Grimmjow, had heard his name whispered through the corridors. Had caught a few brief glimpses of his blue hair just out of the corner of her eye. Had seen him once or twice in P.E., the only course they shared. She knew he was a bully, that much was certain.

But she had no idea that day after day, a war was being waged on Karakura's grounds. Part of it was simply due to the fact that Grimmjow liked to fight; the other had to do with the fact that the gangs were always looking for new potential customers. School kids were the easiest to get hooked, or recruit for potential membership. With such diligent, die-hard knights as Ichigo wandering campus, those numbers would be severely hampered.

Aizen had never given the order to have Ichigo done away with; after all, he was a high school student, the same age as one of his best bruisers, and it had been somewhat amusing to let Grimmjow have a sworn mortal enemy. Gave him exercise when there was no street work to be taken care of. It was only another year or so, if Grimmjow didn't drop out altogether, and new faces were always showing up on the scene. If they couldn't get the kids during school, they'd just have to wait until after hours. Wasn't like they were all that innocent, anyway.

Of course, Orihime knew none of the dirty details. All she knew was that when she'd stumbled upon the crowd that day, she hadn't been expecting to see her supposed beloved, her idol, being thrashed black and blue by the mythical monster of a student who roamed the halls. And being so unaware, her instincts had kicked in.

Before that man could land another blow, she'd pushed her way through, effectively tackling Ichigo and shielding him with her body. The adrenaline was coursing through her veins, as she got her first real look at the one called 'Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez'.

He wasn't bad looking. Heck, if he weren't such a scary guy, he'd probably have his own devoted fanbase of females following his every move. As it was, the girls in the school shied away from him-unless they were already engaged in the shady side of things. But Inoue didn't know very many girls like that-all the girls she'd gotten to know at Karakura were nice.

He was big, though. Very muscular and tall, especially for a guy of only sixteen. He could've easily passed for an adult. What stood out to her the most though, was his hair-so shockingly blue!-and his eyes. They were blue too, but it wasn't the shade that had drawn her in. It was the intensity behind them.

As he loomed over her, both fists clenched and supposedly ready to strike, the look in his eyes was one of utter bewilderment. Like he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now, much less with her. Should he lash out? Yell at her? Shove her aside to get back to the one she now protected? She'd heard he had a hair-trigger temper, but none of it was showing through in that moment. All she saw was confusion.

Then, the rest of the gang had gotten involved, pulling her and Ichigo out of the fray. The crowd had dispersed, Grimmjow and his group had vanished, and Orihime now found herself surrounded by a mix of warm hugs and stern words. As ice was applied to swollen wounds and cloth was dabbed at split lips, she found herself at the center of a lecture, by none other than Ichigo himself. His eyes were narrowed, giving him a sense of threatening, even though his speech wasn't given as purely a reprimand.

"Inoue-san, I don't...I don't want you getting involved like that, ever again. No, stop it-I'm fine now! It'll heal in a few days, I'm not gonna die!" He sighed. "The point is, these guys...are not like your usual schoolyard bullies. And I know you know what those are like." His expression softened. "But these guys? Are like playing Russian Roulette. The fact that I can hold them back at all from inflicting as much damage as they could while out here is a miracle in and of itself. If you get involved...it'll only make things worse. Inoue-san, you can't do anything to stop them. So just stay out of it, okay?"

He was only trying to tell her that she would only become a casualty if she jumped into the thick of it. So then why, why did her chest hurt so bad? Why were her eyes watering? She forced them down, these conflicting emotions, behind a smile and a nod. "Okay, I'm sorry...Kurosaki-kun. I won't do that again..." Her response was enough to make him give her a wan smile and look away, allowing a friend to resume cleaning up the wounds he'd sustained. He didn't even notice as she slipped through the folds of the group, and made her way home.

Why did Kurosaki-kun and Grimmjow-san have to fight like this? What could Grimmjow possibly be involved in that made Ichigo react so violently? Even bullies never drew this much ire and fire from him. Something about Grimmjow was getting to him, driving him into this state of fight-or-die. And it scared Orihime.

But not as much as the look on Grimmjow's face as he'd regarded her. In that moment, she'd really had no clue what was going to happen to her. If Ichigo's words were real, then Grimmjow could just as easily have kicked her aside.

Why hadn't he?

Orihime just couldn't believe it. How could anyone not be, at least somewhere deep down, underneath it all...human? She couldn't adhere to Kurosaki-kun's idea of Grimmjow being a monster. Even with the damage she'd seen him cause. There was still something there.

Of course, she wasn't about to jump in again and get herself killed just to prove a point. She'd promised Ichigo that she wouldn't get involved anymore. So she wouldn't. It wasn't her fight, wasn't her conflict. At the end of the day, she was merely Inoue Orihime, the cute little cheerleader, the perky face, the bubbly, pure one. The one who couldn't actually do anything real. Her existence was practically a joke. What was her purpose?

But thinking that led down that road made her feel sad, and made those uncomfortable questions about her life start cropping up again. So she shoved them aside, and let this day remain in her mind as a memory of what not to do in the future, and "Wow, I never knew people could be this way, so-" insert your adjective of choice here, and a lesson as to her own strengths; she'd stared down the barrel of a living .45 and survived.

That didn't mean that Grimmjow still didn't cross her mind on occasion, though. Or that she didn't sometimes follow him, when he was alone, just to see how far she could get, before he turned in her direction, and she had to act like it was perfectly normal for her to be there, smoothing out her skirt, or adjusting her bag, or waving at somebody-a complete stranger-across campus. In time, it even became something of a game, as she kept a mental checklist of how many normal behaviors he engaged in before the watch was up.

Sometimes, he scratched his head; other times, he coughed. A couple of times, he'd detoured to make a pit stop in the bathroom, and she could only assume that he was in there doing his 'business', seeing as he came out alone and after a few minutes.

As frightful as he was, Orihime couldn't bring her fear of him to override her regard for him as a human being, first and foremost.

Then, the cord snapped.

…...

It had been a day like any other. The sun had been out, there was a light breeze in the air, and the shadows had begun to stretch over the ground by the time Orihime had left school. She'd stayed later, as usual, to attend the crafts club. Her after-school activity of choice.

As she'd made her way back towards her apartment though, she couldn't help but feel a sense of steadily building terror invading her senses. Perhaps it was her imagination over-reacting, seeing as today was so quiet, or maybe it was a warning of things to come. Whatever the case, she did her best to speed up her pace without looking too conspicuous, and make it home in one piece.

That was when she'd heard the sound of a rapidly approaching car. Someone must've been in a hurry to get somewhere. Screeching tires. Maybe something had run in front of them? Slamming doors, then steady footsteps, crossing the sidewalk in large spaces, drawing closer. Was there any sort of practice going on at the park today, up ahead? Perhaps this person was running late.

And then, the voice.

"There you are. Don't try to run, woman." Orihime's heart had done a summersault.

She'd still tried to bolt. Tried to flee. Hadn't looked back-that meant certain death in horror movies-just kept focusing on the pavement beneath her, and the pounding of her heart in time with her footsteps. It seemed like she'd been running forever, but in actuality it was only a few feet, maybe a yard or two. She felt them before she saw them: the long, tightly winding arms as they wrapped around her head and upper torso, dragging her backwards. She'd tried to scream, only to have a hand cupped firmly over her mouth.

That same voice as before rejoined the clamor. "Do not make this any harder for yourself." Orihime had done her best to fight, to break free. With one hand still loose, she'd grabbed at her bag and attempted to smack her attacker with it. In return, she'd received a sudden sock to the gut. And then, another blow, this time to the side of her head. Her legs nearly gave way from the force. Orihime's vision was drifting in and out of focus, as her body was now being led back the way she came. Her feet could barely feel the ground, and whoever was holding her could obviously see this.

She tried for whatever reason in her head to walk, but could only stumble along, unable to keep her balance. Then, she was lifted off the ground without any warning.

"I really don't see why I must be the one to take care of this...that pathetic trash Grimmjow, getting us involved in his petty conflicts. I knew nothing good would come of that redheaded watchdog."

Grimmjow...A familiar name to Orihime, as she felt herself being lowered onto a hard, but slightly pliable surface of some length. What did he have to do with this? She'd heard a car before all the violence-was it a seat? Yes, it was. Then, the rope. Tied tightly around her wrists and ankles. And finally the gag and sack, shoved into her mouth and thrown over her head. Which was still spinning. A weak moan left her lips, but it was enough to earn her a muffled scolding through the cloth bag. "Quiet, woman. I have no desire to deal with any of this."

Orihime's head had lowered then, and she'd blacked out as the doors had slammed, engine starting up and tires squealing as they'd pulled away from the curb.

A/N:...yeah...please don't kill me? ^^;

I'm still trying my best to get this to all fit w/the original 'Bleach' canon, while at the same time making my own tale w/an AU. I worry sometimes that the balance is off, or that the story's getting hokey, or I misinterpreted a character personality, or that my interpretations of something are horribly off. All feedback is welcomed on this subject-I look to improve my craft, and I always do my best to respond. Even if I don't, please know that I always read your words, and do take them into consideration, though I might not always use them. ^/^ :)

So yeah. Hoping that the personalities aren't too out there in this installment, but like I said, it's a work in-progress...mostly, I'm just worried about it being unbelievable [the AU side], or OOC [the 'Bleach' side]. Some further Grimmjow and Orihime development, as well as the introduction of a couple other characters. What do you think? Do you like their inclusion? Or was it too much? Or not enough? Yeah...I ask too many questions.

'Ahem' Next time: where has Orihime been taken? What is Grimmjow's reaction to all this? How will Ichigo and the others cope? What is our Princesses' fate? Please stop by and read again for the answers! Until then, take care!