I do not own Bleach

Chapter III

It had been a month since Zansatsu had arrived in Hueco Mundo. Every day since he'd arrived he'd been sparring with Nnoitra. Zansatsu never thought he'd meet another being that lusted for combat the way he did, but Nnoitra was just that. Zansatsu was sitting on the floor in the training room panting heavily; the only thing keeping him upright was leaning on his zanpakutou for support. Nnoitra was just as tired. They had been training for seven hours straight. Both were covered in cuts and bruises, and the whole room smelled of blood and sweat.

"I gotta say, that was the most fun I've had in a long time," Zansatsu panted.

"Back at you," Nnoitra said, staggering to his feet, "I think this arrangement is gonna work out fine."

Zansatsu grinned, "See ya tomorrow then."

"Where you goin'?" Nnoitra said, smirking at him, "going to see your girlfriend?"

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Zansatsu said.

"Don't give me that bullshit," he said, laughing, "everyone knows you have a thing for that blue haired chick that serves under Halibel."

Zansatsu went slightly red, but recovered almost immediately, "Yeah, so what if I do? And her name's Apache."

"Tch, well it ain't any fun if you don't get mad and try to deny it," Nnoitra said.

Nnoitra slung his weapon over his shoulder and started to leave, "Oh, and I won't be around tomorrow" he said, "Aizen's sending me and Tesla to search for Vasto Lorde level arrancar for the day, so you're on your own tomorrow."

"All right, later," Zansatsu said.

He walked back to his room, getting lost a couple times on the way like he did every day, but he eventually found it. He took off his shredded shihakusho, threw it aside, and turned on the shower. The cold water felt incredible on his skin after training for so many hours. After standing under the icy water for a while, he stepped out of the shower and put on another shihakusho He sat down on his bed and was asleep before his upper half hit the bed.

Zansatsu could hear something tapping against something. "What is that," he thought to himself. As the noise grew louder, he regained consciousness and realized that someone was knocking on his door. He looked at the clock on his nightstand. It was three o-clock in the morning.

"Shit, whoever that is better have a damn good reason for waking me up this early," he thought as he got to his feet.

He strode over to the door and opened it slightly. His eyes snapped open as he saw Apache standing in the doorway.

"Apache, do you have any idea what time it…oh my god."

As his eyes began to focus, he saw that Apache had a black eye, her horn was chipped, her ankle looked like it was broken, and she was covered in gashes and bruises, many of them still bleeding rather badly. She dropped down to one knee and was panting heavily.

"Shit," Zansatsu threw open the door, picked her up bridal style and carried her into his room.

"Who did this to you?" he asked, setting her down on his bed, not caring that she was getting blood all over it, "was it Yammy?" Slowly, she nodded.

"That spineless motherfucker," Zansatsu said, he would deal with Yammy later, but first, Apache needed her wounds treated.

He walked into the bathroom and started running hot water into the bathtub. He walked out and picked up his zanpakutou, sliding the end off of the hilt and taking some of the blood clotting ointment out of it.

"And they said that hanging around the eleventh division would bring me nothing but trouble," Zansatsu thought to himself, "I owe you one Ikkaku."

He walked back over to the bed and began spreading the ointment over some of her more serious wounds. He then picked her up again and carried her into the bathroom. It was a mark of how worried he was about her, as he removed her clothes without a single sexual thought crossing his mind, and carefully lowered her into the water. He held her upright with his right arm, picked up a washcloth in his left, and began to gently clean the blood from her body.

Apache looked at Zansatsu and saw nothing but concern and worry on his face. She couldn't believe it. Anyone else in Las Noches would have left her to die, and yet here was this shinigami, tenderly caring for her wounds with no other thought in mind. The water became so bloody that Zansatsu had to drain the tub and refill it again. After it was refilled, he left the room, changed the sheets on his bed, got out another shihakusho, and some bandages. After cleaning her wounds as best he could he drained the tub, wrapped a towel around her, and carried her out to his bed. He helped her change into the shikakusho, after which he bandaged the cuts that were still bleeding slightly.

"How could anyone do this to you?" he said, as he held her in his arms. Several tears were down running down his face. Apache looked up at him. She couldn't believe that someone with a bloodlust like his could cry. When he was fighting or sparring, he was an absolute demon, but right now, he seemed so gentle that he couldn't even harm a fly.

She rested her head against his chest, "I've never had someone actually care about my wellbeing," she said, "its kinda nice."

Zansatsu hugged her close to him, stroking her hair, "I promise, I'll never let something like this happen again."

He held her until she finally fell asleep. After she finally dropped off to sleep, he carefully set her down, pulled the covers over her and went to go clean up the bathroom. He looked in the mirror and saw that his own arms had dried blood on them. He scrubbed his arms for what felt like hours until all the blood was gone.

"Yammy, there are no words that can describe the hell I'm gonna put you through tomorrow," he said to his reflection in the mirror.

Zansatsu walked back into the main room, got into bed, carefully draped his arm over Apache, and fell asleep.