"You didn't have to be so rough with him," Rukia said, after having ridden in silence for a while.

Grimmjow glanced at her; she was staring out the window. "He needed to get the message. I didn't hurt 'im."

"He's just… he has this savior complex… like he's the only one who can protect all his friends. I can't think of much that would've set him off more than insinuating you were gonna go harass Chad next."

"I'm not gonna harass him. I just got questions."

"That's not the way you said it, and you know that."

Grimmjow gripped the steering wheel a little harder. He didn't know why it bothered him so much that the Shinigami had called him out for antagonizing Ichigo. "I thought it might loosen his lips," he lied. "Smarter guy than him might've told me somethin' useful if he thought it'd keep me away from somebody he wanted to protect." He could feel Rukia's eyes on him. He kept his on the road.

"Ichigo is smart enough to know when he's being provoked, Grimmjow."

He scoffed. "How was I s'posed to know that?" He pulled the car into a parking lot for a large apartment building. "We're here, anyway." Getting out of the car with awkward silence, they entered the building to climb several flights of stairs. When they reached the right floor, they navigated through the long, narrow hallway towards the apartment they were looking for. Grimmjow knocked on the door.

It opened just a crack, and a low voice rumbled out from inside. "Ichigo already told me not to talk to you guys."

The door started to close again, but Grimmjow was faster. He wedged his foot into the opening, preventing it from slamming shut. "He tell you why we're here, too? That Orihime is missin'?"

"Yes."

"He mention Urahara's involvement?" The man on the other side of the door was quiet. "Should I take that as a no?" Grimmjow suddenly began to feel a crushing force against his foot. He looked down to see the metal door buckling around it. Strange. "Ya sure are awfully strong, Chad," he remarked pointedly.

"How… are you… resisting?" His voice sounded strained.

"By the looks of things, I'd say ya might already be familiar with the answer to that question."

The pressure on the door was then lifted as it swung open fully. The man stood, enormously tall and broad, with hands clenched in fists. His complexion was tanned, but his arms… They looked metal. Grimmjow had expected as much. "I don't know what you mean by that," Chad said, rolling a wrist, "but I think it's time for you to leave now." He glared out from beneath a mop of brown hair.

Grimmjow snorted at the threat. The man had no idea who he was talking to, but this was neither the time nor the place to prove that. He pretended to get the message. "Alright, alright." He put up his hands as if to surrender. "We won't bother you about this anymore, right, Kuchiki?" He looked over at her; her mouth was ajar, her eyes wide. "Kuchiki!"

Her attention snapped to him. "Yes! Yes, of course. Let's go." She hurried past him down the hallway and towards the stairs they came up.

Grimmjow leisurely walked behind her, watching her sprint down the stairs, then out the front door to the car. When he caught up to her, she had placed one hand on the hood and one on her knee, breathing heavily. "So that was the first time ya've seen him like that, then?"

"What was that?" She could barely get her words out between breaths. "What was any of that?"

"Urahara's doing, no doubt. That's why neither of 'em will talk."

"What about you? What you said to him?"

"Don't pay any attention to that. Sometimes you just gotta ham it up to trick 'em into doin' somethin' stupid." He heard a noise of disbelief from the woman. "Hey, it worked, didn't it? He showed us what they were hiding."

"And your foot?"

"I got real strong bones, Kuchiki. It's an advantage in this line of work."

She looked up at him from where she was crouched. "I think my lunch is over."

"What about the other ones? Ishida, Arisawa—"

"Maybe… maybe we should hold off on questioning them."

"And give them more time to come up with a unified story?" Grimmjow leaned down until he was eye to eye with Rukia. "You scared'a me now, Shinigami?"

She shied away from his stare. "I just need to get back to my office."

He straightened up and put his hands in his pockets nonchalantly. "Have it your way. Get in, I'll take you back." The two exchanged no words after that, quietly driving to their destination of the Seireitei. She wouldn't even look at him when she climbed out of the passenger seat.

When he pulled into his spot in the basement of the Intelligence offices, he slammed his fists on the steering wheel. "Dammit!" He knew these kids had information that could help him, but he had no idea how to get it out of them. Moreover, he had exposed his unnatural ability to the Shinigami. He hoped she knew better than to ask questions; he didn't want to see her get killed. He decided that before he tried to talk to the remaining friends, he would look into them beyond the information she had provided. He wouldn't be surprised if she had still kept things from him, or maybe she had simply overlooked something important. He thought he'd ask Ulquiorra to investigate them, too. As much as he hated asking the man for help, it was terrifying sometimes the information he could turn up.

He took the long elevator ride to their high-rise office and sauntered to the back of the floor, throwing open one of the large, glass doors to his and Ulquiorra's shared office. "Feel like runnin' some expanded background checks for me, Cifer? They're for sure involved with Urahara, but they're keepin' quiet."

"I'll see what I can do, but I have no guarantees. Names?"

"Sado Yasutora, Uryuu Ishida, Tatsuki Arisawa, and…" Grimmjow hesitated. He wanted to save that one for himself. "And that's it." He sat down at his desk to begin his own research into the man. He wasn't going to let Kurosaki get the better of him."

Grimmjow jerked a thumb over his shoulder at a fresh face on the floor. "Who's the new guy?" The man was small and slender, androgynous in appearance, with short, black hair and diamonds tattooed on his forehead.

Ulquiorra glanced up from his computer and through the office doors. "Luppi Antenor. He's angling for a… ranked position here."

"There ain't any ranked positions open."

"Not currently, no." He looked back at his work, appearing bored. "I wouldn't get too comfortable, though."

"You know somethin' I don't, Cifer?"

"Only that our director is always looking for places to make improvements."

Grimmjow clenched his fists. "Bastard… " he muttered under his breath. He pulled one of the doors open and stalked onto the floor, right up to the man. He tapped him on the shoulder. "Heard ya have your sights set on a single digit, huh?"

Luppi spun gracefully towards the question. "And you are…?"

"You should really know all the names of the guys whose job ya want."

He looked him up and down contemptuously. "Oh. You must be Grimmjow, then?"

"So you weren't born yesterday!"

"I simply didn't think it was worth remembering your face, considering I won't be seeing it around here for much longer."

"I ain't goin' anywhere, Princess."

"You sound so sure of that! Would it interest you to know I have a meeting scheduled with Director Aizen about my future with the agency?"

The hairs on the back of Grimmjow's neck stood up; the director didn't often interact with low-ranking employees. He had a visceral feeling that this guy would only be trouble for him. "You couldn't hack it in my place. You couldn't make the sacrifices you need to make."

"Well, I can certainly think of at least one thing I'm willing to sacrifice." His words were pointed, coated with venom.

It seemed almost personal to Grimmjow, and he wondered what he'd done to evoke his ire. "You couldn't if you tried."

"Do you want to take that risk, Jaegerjaquez? You don't want to end up like Nel."

Blue eyes flared with rage. "That name had better not EVER come outta your mouth again or so help me, you'll be too busy in a coma to go to your little meeting with Director Aizen." He shoved Luppi aside and stormed into the elevator. He needed to cool down before he did something he'd regret.

Foregoing his car, he took the elevator to the ground floor instead. He slipped out the front door and made several quick turns down back alleys. His pace was relentless, quicker than his mind could keep up with. He navigated purely by muscle memory, having made the same trip many times in the past year. It followed the path made by his previous partner, Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck, before her transmission dropped off the map altogether. It had happened about a year prior, but there was still no evidence indicating her fate, alive or otherwise.

Grimmjow had started making these rounds to search the area for anything that may have been missed in the initial investigation. Now, though, a part of him hoped to run into whoever was responsible. A twisted notion that either he'd be put out of his misery the same way, or he'd kill them first for hurting her. He knew the thought wasn't a productive or healthy one, but it persisted nonetheless. His sick little wish remained ungranted, however, as the trek produced nothing of interest. He instead made his way back to the agency, clocked out, and drove home.

He dropped into his bed without bothering to get undressed. What was the point when he already knew his sleep would be fitful? His dreams about Nel were less frequent now than when she first disappeared, but Luppi's words had riled him up. As he drifted off, his head was filled with well-worn, familiar thoughts.

Why couldn't I save her? Why couldn't I save any of them? Why couldn't it have been me?

A ringtone blared out in the darkness from Grimmjow's bedside table. He put his pillow over his head. Can't he make it through at least one night without being interrupted by work? He decided to let it go to voicemail; if it was that important, they would call back. The ringing stopped, and he relaxed. Until it started again. "God dammit!" He snatched the phone from the nightstand and looked at the display. He didn't recognize the number. He picked up anyways. "Who is this, and what the fuck do you want?"

"It's Ichigo. Ichigo Kurosaki? You might remember me as the guy you manhandled in front of his own home."

Grimmjow snorted, sitting up in bed. He was grateful it was at least something worth waking up for. "You manhandled me first, kid."

"You're not nearly old enough to call me that, Grimmjow."

"Oh? And how would you know that?"

"Did you tell Rukia what you are before you had her introduce you to us? What you really are, I mean."

"I dunno what you're talkin' about, Kurosaki."

"Maybe this will enlighten you, then." The sound of papers shuffling could be heard. "Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Born July 31, 2056. That makes you a whopping 28 years old, 'kid.'"

"So you found my birthday, congrats. Ya proud of that one?"

"I dunno, Grimmjow. Are you proud of being an Espada?"

Grimmjow's eyes widened. That information was locked up so tight, he didn't think he'd even seen his own personnel file. This med student couldn't possibly have gotten his hands on it, could he? "I still don't know what you're talkin' about. You're gonna have to run that one by me again."

"Sexta Espada, right? That's your official rank? Number Six." He drawled out the number, the sharp sound hissing through the speaker. "I'm not impressed, to be honest. You didn't feel that strong when you slammed me into your car. I think I could've taken you if I'd tried, even with all your fancy enhancements."

"You talk a pretty big game for someone I left shaking where he stood, Ichigo." He had brought his voice down to almost a whisper. "I think the only way you would've taken me is on your hands and knees."

A breath hitched through the phone. "Sh—shut the hell up, you bastard. I wouldn't let you touch me if you were the last guy on Earth."

"You keep tellin' yourself that, sweetheart, 'cause from where I was standing, you looked like you wanted me to do a lot more than just touch you."

"That was— I didn't—" Ichigo faltered. "You're a killer!"

"You think your li'l friend Rukia has never killed anybody? It comes with the territory. A bad dude comes at you with a gun, you put him down."

"With your bare hands? I don't just have the reports on what you've done. I know exactly what they did to you. They packed you full of enough polymer-reinforced muscle fibers that you can rip someone in half. They've turned you into a glorified attack dog; they point, and you sic 'em."

"I'm nobody's fuckin' attack dog! I do my job like anybody else. Sometimes cases just need somethin' extra. Somethin' not every agent can handle. Enhanced perception, stealth, a li'l muscle…"

"You're not denying what you are, then? You admit you're an Espada?"

"Kid— Ichigo. You just told me somethin' about myself that I didn't even know. You must have some big shots for friends 'cause I know those files didn't fall into your lap. What's the point in denying it? Hell, you're probably looking at my pretty picture right now."

"You didn't… know?"

"I look like I ripped anybody in half lately?"

"But… these two girls, Loly and Menoly…"

"I dunno what to tell ya, Ichigo, but I sure as shit never hurt any girls. Maybe that was some other Espada and it made it into my file by mistake."

"Aizen doesn't make mistakes."

Grimmjow huffed. "His name's the one on that report, then?"

"You don't sound surprised."

"That bastard has had it out for me for a while now. First my partner goes missing, then my Fracción turn up dead? I know what comes next. He wants me out."

"And you're just gonna accept that? I know I don't know you that well, but that doesn't really sound like something you'd do."

"There's nothing else to do. There's no leaving the Espada. Either you're useful to him, or you're dead."

"It doesn't have to be that way, Grimmjow."

"Yeah, well, what would you know?"

"More than you think." Ichigo's voice was soft, quiet. "Listen, I'd be careful if I were you. I don't think it was an accident you got put on this case. You're not the only one Aizen has it out for. He wants Urahara's research so badly, I don't wanna imagine the lengths he'll go to get it."

"You know him then, huh? Urahara?" Only silence reached Grimmjow's ear. "Still don't trust me, Ichigo?"

"How can I trust a dog who's ready to roll over and die for his master?"

"I'm not—" Grimmjow started, but several tonal beeps interrupted, indicating that the redhead had hung up. He threw his phone at the wall. "I'm not a fucking DOG!"

He fell back into his pillow, staring at the ceiling. He lay there like that until his morning alarm began to sound. Disoriented, he rolled over and groaned into his pillow. He hadn't felt that much time pass. As he dragged himself out of bed, he decided to consider his restless night a blessing in disguise. At least with no sleep, he told himself, there could be no nightmares.