A/N: IT'S FINALLY HERE. Happy dance! I rather enjoyed my mini-hiatus, really helped me get into this story again. Also - Longest chapter to date! Most of my chapters have been 700 words, but this one is over 1000. BOOM. Bumper edition to make up for the long wait.

I've tried to make my writing fuller and more…more? Improvement yes?

"Welcome to day one of your exclusive Espada Training!" Gin smiled. "Some of you may not know, but Lord Aizen is thoroughly unimpressed by the amount of slacking you all have been doing when it comes to your training. It seems that without proper supervision it has proven too difficult for most of you to manage."

I swear I could kick this guy's head in till it looks like a little, moist, red cake with silver icing. I don't know much about food, but I think I'd like cake. Especially if it's made out of Gin's face.

"So our Lord as called in Commander Tousen and I to do some bottom-wiping. You may prefer to call it 'supervised training', but whatever the case you can be sure it will be seven days of pure painful joy – for Tousen and I anyway."

Ha.

I glanced at Sylus.

He was pulling his hair and smiling idiotically like a little kid about to open presents on his birthday. He caught my glance with his icy eyes and – I dunno how the fuck he does it but – he grinned even wider and sniggered.

Fool.

This training could be quite beneficial. Seeing as all Sylus has been doing since he first appeared is pulling stupid jokes on the inhabitants of Hueco Mundo, he should be relatively weak for a Cuatro Espada. I, on the other hand, have been busy training up. Sometimes I would entertain thoughts of utterly destroying Sylus in a few satisfying blows to keep me motivated.

"So, lets get started shall we?" Tousen smiled – in a sort of retarded way.

"Sylus! What's wrong with you? Stop that!" Szayel looked at me with frowning eyes.

I continued giggling. "I can't help it. I'm just so excited! Can you believe this? I wonder if I'll get to fight Grimmjow. I'll kick him till he forgets where his penis is!"

Szayel laughed and looked at me puzzlingly, almost searching me for some sort of scientific results table detailing the electrical impulses in my grey matter that make me be the way that I am. I shoved my hands into my pockets – of our usual pants, may I add. Aizen liked my prank but he drew the line at officially changing the pants. With hanging heads and heavy hearts, Szayel, Gin and I packed them away in a cupboard, perhaps to be used later as fancy dress costumes or towels. Or murder weapons.

Gin started our training off with the usual hand-to-hand combat and agility exercises which we completed in pairs. I paired with Szayel naturally, and I couldn't help but notice that since no one really liked Grimmjow and Nnoitra, they were left with no choice but to pair up with each other. Okay maybe I didn't just 'notice' this enjoyable situation – perhaps I openly gloated and taunted them.

But only a little.

Gin is a man I just can't get my head around. He witnessed all this animosity flying about as we did our simple agility exercises and perhaps, like Aizen himself, the small mice that make his mind work began to chatter. Perhaps they ran from one corner of his brain cavity to the other, storing what he was hearing and seeing, and searching for something devilishly cunning to do in counter – or in spite. Perhaps they found that something and had danced explicitly in glee covertly beneath his silvery hair before he walked up to us and suggested his "brilliant idea".

"Sylus, Grimmjow, I have a brilliant idea. I think you guys should practice some hand-to-hand combat together,"

Or maybe he's just a fucking loony.

We looked at each other in doubt. I giggled, in a sort of excited, manly way, and fluttered my eyelashes at him. Predictably, he threw a crazy frown-smirk on his face before throwing a punch at my face.

And then t'was begun. The most epic hand-to-hand-you-can't-cut-him-even-though-you-really-wanna combat fights that have ever taken place in the history of arrancar kind has begun.

He threw some more punches at my face but – Ha! I dodged them all. Then BOOM. I slapped him one to the cheek like a betrayed wife and exclaimed in my very best prissy lady-voice:

"Yew Busturd!"

Seething, Grimmjow bristled and trembled with renewed hatred for my cool good looks and charming antics, and retaliated with full force. He threw kicks, punches, elbow jabs, backhand slaps, gut-busters and even a few feeble fistfuls of sand at me, but to no avail. I was dancing and prancing around him like a beautiful gazelle foraging in the forest.

Grimmjow eventually stood still and panted faintly while watching me perform my pretty dance. One could almost see the hatred simmer in his toes, travelling up his monstrous frame all the way to his mouth, where it exploded in large, frothy syllables.

"What the FUCK are you? A fucking fairy?"

I paused mid ballerina twirl.

"…Yes, perhaps I am,"

And then continued, laughing because I simply had nothing really special to laugh at. This irritated, fuming face of Grimmjow's is starting to get monotonous. When you think about it, he really only has four facial expressions:

I'm-Grimmjow-And-I'm-Fucking-Sexy Look.

I'm-Grimmjow-And-I'm-Fucking-Pissed-Off Look.

I'm-Grimmjow-And-I'm-Fucking-Sleeping Look.

I'm-Grimmjow-And-I'm-Fucking-You Look. (I suppose he must have a look like that, never experienced it personally though.)

After a few more desperate attempts from Grimmjow's flailing arms he eventually spat at me, turned his back and crossed his arms. Confounded by this, I quickly completed my fairy dance with a swooping twirl and summersault, much to the applause of Wonderweiss and Szayel, and then observed Grimmjow for a few moments.

There is something disconcerting about a sulking Grimmjow. I suppose it's mainly due to the fact that it hardly ever occurs, and when it does occur, it makes the air flow differently, taste differently.

"Well, you did manage to hit me twice," I called out to him from over his shoulder.

Nothing.

I edged a bit closer.

"They were good kicks. Almost split my scrotum that one!"

Still nothing.

If penis jokes can't even crack this guy up, then I have no fucking clue.

I stand puzzling over this emotion I feel. It's like someone made me gulp down a bottle of pure vodka, leaving nothing but a burning, spluttering esophagus behind. Could it be…guilt?

I turned around to face Szayel with a quizzical look on my face.

"Maybe the joke's on me this time," I muttered to him.

Hopefully you wont have to wait so long for Chapter 6 ._.

Read and review would make me very happy in the pants : 3