JoanIncarnate: Thank you! I have fun writing this story, and I'm so glad you enjoy reading it. And yup, I'll definitely post the alternate ending in a separate chappie after I finish the remaining pieces!

Ezcap1st: That's right, it's not a trial anymore. Mainly because Soul Society sticks by tradition and their rules with Spartan passion lol. Grimmjow couldn't tell; I decided not to make him so in-sync with Stark after all. I'm trying to keep them as in-character as possible.

Lenighma: I'm so glad you agree! Everything always seems to happen only in Karakura; I got so tired of it lol.

x

Ichigo struggled, screamed and hollered his lungs worth as he was carted away into a room where he could be on his own. His right hand hurt where he had tried to hit Byakuya on the chin, but had been stopped with a sharp grip on his wrist. He felt scared; Grimmjow was nowhere to be seen, and there were hordes of unfamiliar people in black outfits. His cheek had a small red scratch on it where a branch had scraped him during the running through the forest, and some of the blood had dabbled onto his human clothing. And then he was handed over – like a piece of accessory – to a strange lady named Unohana-Taichou, who looked kind and temperate, but Ichigo still had doubts about placing his trust in her. She was, after all, a stranger.

And Grimmjow had taught him not to talk to people he didn't know.

So Ichigo holed up in a corner of the large room he was sitting in, drawing his legs to his chest as he scowled down at the wooden floorboards. There was a bruise on his hand where Byakuya had gripped him tightly, and Ichigo swallowed twice, willing himself not to break out into a crying, blubbering heap.

Try to be brave.

He could imagine his Daddy's voice in his head. Grimmjow believed in him, and he wasn't about to let his father down. After all, he was going to grow up and be a strong man. Stark had said so, and Szayel had told him many stories about him being a handsome teenager. Ichigo was going to stay strong until he could get Grimmjow back.

"It's nice to finally meet you, little Kurosaki-kun. Although we've already met each other before, I'll introduce myself again. My name is Captain Unohana. I lead the fourth division of the Gotei Thirteen."

The strange lady was seated at one end of the room. She sat watching him, her eyes warm and twinkling, much like Aizen's when he first took charge of Ichigo during the Shinigami intrusion at Las Noches. A small smile curved the sides of her lips upward. Ichigo glared fiery daggers at her. So what if she was trying to be nice? He could tell she was one of them. And they had taken Grimmjow away.

"Kurosaki-kun." She said softly, holding out one hand before her. "Won't you join me here?"

Ichigo bared his teeth like he had seen Grimmjow do. "Make me."

She continued to smile. It was more than a little unnerving.

"Well then, are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?" Lifting a cloth cover off a tray, she presented some steamed red bean buns and several cups of tea. "Is there anything you'd like to do?"

What a silly question.

"I want to see my Daddy."

Obviously.

The smile faded a fraction. Keeping his hopes on the possibility that she could be cracking, Ichigo continued to stare at her.

"I'm afraid that's not possible right now, Kurosaki-kun." Unohana tilted her head to the side, oozing sympathetic tendrils toward the bright haired child. "But perhaps we can talk about your adopted father if it makes you feel more comfortable."

Frowning, Ichigo shifted his gaze to the wide windows. He couldn't see the point in that if they weren't going to let him see Grimmjow. "No."

As he glanced at the woman out of the corner of his eye, he was a little irritated to note that Unohana's expression hadn't changed. "I have come to understand that you're on close terms with the Sexta Espada, Grimmjow Jeagerjacques. He must be a very nice person to have you take such a liking to him."

Ichigo's face brightened, though he tried to keep his voice at a cautious level. "He is. My Daddy's the coolest."

Feeling like she had finally discovered an opening for her probing, Unohana gave a barely perceptible nod to her lieutenant standing by the door. The tall woman bowed before exiting the room, leaving her Captain to deal with the child in private. There was a slight pause as Unohana rearranged the flowers in the vase on the side of the table. When she had moved them to suit her taste, she turned her gaze back to Ichigo.

"How wonderful. What is Grimmjow like to you, Kurosaki-kun?"

Pressing his back against the cool slab of wall, Ichigo thought for a minute. What he really remembered were warm, welcoming arms, a mischievous smile, and cerulean eyed looks of exasperation mixed with wonder and surprise. A thought struck him and he reached into his pocket for the light golden coin from the merry-go-round. He held it up and grinned when the afternoon sunlight glinted off the reflective surface. More images of Grimmjow filtered through his mind in a never-ending stream, sending sentimental waves rolling over him.

There was so much more to Grimmjow than the rest of the world cared to notice. He'd been rough and loud and constantly annoyed in the beginning, but hidden beneath the spiky exterior was an accepting, misunderstood being who tried to put up a nonchalant mask despite the poison tipped arrows being shot his way. But Grimmjow had another personality; a charming, vibrant whirl of a person who knew how to let go. He wasn't afraid to say what he thought. In Ichigo's eyes, there wasn't anything Grimmjow couldn't do. He was brave, he was strong. He was fun.

"He's my Daddy." Ichigo said simply, accompanying his statement with a happy smile.

He figured that was all she needed to know.

Watching the child innocently beam at her from the slightly dark corner of the room, Unohana scrutinized his face for any traces of doubt or signs that he was lying. There was no telling what Aizen had done to the boy during the period he had stayed in Las Noches, but so far Unohana could not detect anything bad nestled within him. If word from the reports were true, then Ichigo had been kept safe under the care of the Sexta Espada all this time. Still, there was one more burning question she needed to ask so she could ensure the child was truly comfortable with telling the truth.

"And do you love him, Kurosaki-kun?"

x

It felt sterile, much like Las Noches, but somehow different in a way he couldn't explain.

Grimmjow felt worried, uneasy, nervous, jittery, and afraid all at once. Which was silly, absurd, ridiculous; you name it. As he stepped inside the bare room – another cell, but smaller this time – he heard the black and white pillars come down behind him, locking him inside. He'd been separated from Stark; there was no way the Shinigami were stupid enough to make them share a room; probably because they anticipated a mass destruction with combined forces, but really, who were they kidding? They couldn't even raise their reiatsu out with the amount of kidou spells and wards suppressing them from all around. It felt like one huge mass of hands pressing down on his natural senses. Maybe if he concentrated on other things, he could pretend this place didn't exist. Then that empty, lost feeling would go away.

The truth was, Grimmjow missed Ichigo. He didn't like feeling so helpless – like a human, almost – but he couldn't help it; he'd let himself become so attached to the boy. Not that it was a bad thing, these earthly attachments. Grimmjow couldn't quite place his finger on it. Maybe it had something to do with being in contact with a human for an extended period of time.

There was another presence nearby, filling up the void on the spiritual plane. A strong, suppressed reiatsu was approaching his cell. Grimmjow stiffened, wary and on guard.

Kuchiki Byakuya stood outside his cell, staring at him through the pillars with a blank, serious expression. Grimmjow noted he had swept his hair to hang over one shoulder. Aside from that, nothing else had changed.

"Did you come here to gloat?" Leaning against the wall, Grimmjow offered the noble his best sneer. "If it's anything along those lines you don't need to bother."

Raising his head a little so he was looking at Grimmjow down his nose, Byakuya folded his arms over his chest. "I came here to observe you."

Now that was unexpected. In sullen response, Grimmjow made a face and threw himself onto the neatly made bed prepared for him. It was slightly harder than the other one in the previous room, but that suited him just fine. He didn't need much pampering. Kicking the thin covers to the side of the bed, Grimmjow didn't bother unbuckling his boots as he lay full-length on the slightly bouncy mattress. He shut his eyes and tried to focus on his inner peace within the raging turmoil of thoughts in his mind. The only time he had really felt that was while watching Ichigo play with his toys when they were alone in his quarters. Grimmjow released a soft exhale of air. It was filled with disappointment. Byakuya continued to study him like a sort of animal trapped in a cage at the zoo.

After a quiet moment, Byakuya spoke.

"What did you do with the child Kurosaki?"

That wasn't a very specific question, Grimmjow thought as he ignored the Shinigami completely. There was a scar on his abdomen; he could feel it under the fabric of his white jacket. It wasn't bleeding; just a little bump where his skin was rapidly healing. That was good. It meant he was perfectly healthy and in good shape.

Byakuya came closer, resting one hand on a pillar. His eyes bore a hole through Grimmjow's body – and possibly through his mattress and the floor as well – but the Espada remained still, feigning sleep. There were a lot of things he had done with Ichigo. He'd carried him when he was tired, held him close when he was scared, rocked him to sleep, bathed him, dressed him, fed him, played games with him . . . the list could go on and on. Back then, he'd been in denial about slipping so easily into the role of a devoted father, but right now he realized the meaning of time. It was all he had back then, and he felt guilty for not noticing it. Szayel was always going 'good things must come to an end', but what about the bad things?

"The boy refuses to see anyone but you." Byakuya opted for a different tactic. "He will not speak unless it involves you."

Grimmjow slid one eye open, much like the lazy way a cat would. "Well isn't that just peachy?"

Cerulean eyes met steel gray ones, and Byakuya frowned, the slight movement marring his handsome features. "Perhaps we were wrong to assume you cared for the boy."

Scoffing, Grimmjow turned over on the bed to face the wall. "Like you'd even come close to grasping how I feel about Ichigo."

"So you do care about him, then?"

Feeling a surge of exasperation cloud over other emotions, Grimmjow sat up and glared icily at the superior looking Shinigami outside his cell.

"Do you have children of your own?"

Black eyebrows arched up at the sudden question. Byakuya was amused, but there were no traces of how he felt on his face, so Grimmjow couldn't tell how he was going to go with this. There was a very high chance the noble would either stalk away looking disgusted, or simply shoot down what he was trying to get across with the hard look in his eyes.

"What concern is it of yours?"

Grimmjow knit his eyebrows together as he concentrated on finding the right words to say. He didn't know why he felt the urge to explain himself right then and there. The old Grimmjow would never stoop so low as to talk to a Shinigami about his feelings over something as trivial as a human. But that old Grimmjow hadn't met Ichigo back then. This new one had, and he had changed beyond his own understanding due to the child.

"You won't know how it feels until you actually have one." Grimmjow muttered, not meeting Byakuya's quizzical gaze. "I know he's not really mine; we don't reproduce. We're just reborn. But when the time came to care for him, something really altered that."

Clearly interested, Byakuya said nothing, opting instead to watch Grimmjow with an unreadable expression on his face. He looked like he wanted to come in and sit down, but there was something else he had to do. Not knowing what to make of that mask, Grimmjow rattled on.

"What changed?" Byakuya tilted his head slightly to the left. He looked a bit dreamy, as if reminiscing something tucked away in his deepest shelf of memories.

Picking at the thin material of the blanket provided to him, Grimmjow sucked in a breath of air before giving his response. "Everything, it seemed. Before this, I was just me. I didn't believe in showing kindness to anyone or anything. I just stuck with myself. There wasn't any reason to care for someone else other than me. It's like being in a battle; where you're up against some challenging opponent. There's a world of difference between my world and yours. But if you were to ask if we had something in common, it's got to be the feel of being a parent."

Byakuya stayed silent, allowing the words to soak in as he digested them. He shifted his gaze to the window in Grimmjow's cell, staring out into the greenery and high white wall that fenced the surrounding area around the building.

After a moment, he said quietly "How much difference is there, really? After Hollows are cleansed by a Shinigami's blade, they come straight here to be reborn again. It's a repetitive cycle."

Aggravated, Grimmjow blew out a breath of air. "I don't know. You have children. We don't. It's a whole new world for us. It's like a slap in the face, or a punch in the stomach when you actually have a child. And even though he's not really mine, he feels like mine. That's how I perceive it."

Taking a step back, the Captain of the Sixth Division folded his arms over his chest. His face was a flicker of longing, puzzlement and curiosity. Grimmjow watched him carefully, looking away when their eyes met. He'd said his piece, now Byakuya could either leave or proceed to interrogate him further.

"What does it feel like?" Byakuya asked with a hint of genuine curiosity laced in his tone.

The answer already on the tip of his tongue, Grimmjow sank back down onto the bed. "Having a child is a gift, as humans would say. Well, I don't believe in presents. In my world, under Aizen's rule, nothing comes for free. It's all borrowed. We either return it unscathed or smash it to smithereens and face the consequences."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Ichigo was like a gift to me." Staring up at the shadows of tree branches waving in the wind on the white ceiling, Grimmjow felt a sudden urge to hug something small, preferably Ichigo-sized. "He still is."

Another frown. "You're an Espada. Technically, you are a Hollow being. Feelings like these should only belong to humans. Which, in case your memory needs jogging, are considered as disgusting beings by your kind."

With a snort, Grimmjow rolled over on the mattress, scuffing his boots up against the off-white wall. "You're only saying that because you haven't been there. If that's the general say about us, then your kind is the type to assume negative things about the unknown."

"We Shinigami have given countless Hollows the chance to be purified and reborn again with their minds and wills intact. As a mindless being, one would jump at the offer."

Byakuya received a scoff from the blue haired man. "That's how much you know. We can think, and feel; has it never occurred to you that we are happy the way we are? No one deserves being 'cleansed' according to someone else's views on living. When you're born, you just are. Why should anyone have the right to change the way someone else lives?"

Somewhat surprised by Grimmjow's unexpected ability to explain something that rang true, the Captain of the Sixth Division left the building where the Espada were being held captive with a troubled mind and a mask of blank indifference on his face.

Maybe killing the Espada wasn't such a good idea after all. But rules were rules, and normally Byakuya would never stoop so low as to worry about an Arrancar of all beings.

But repeating life's mundane cycles over and over wouldn't be a good thing now, would it? The ebony haired noble thought to himself as he rounded the corner and headed straight for his division office. Sometimes change brought good things.

Right?

x

It was the first day waking up as a true captive with a death penalty around his neck. Literally, of course.

Tugging at the tight constricting feeling, Grimmjow huffed in annoyance at the black and dark red collar around his neck. It was uncomfortable, but the Shinigami were adamant about him wearing it. They feared he would go on a rampage once his wrists were unbound, and cause destruction everywhere. Like he could do something as reckless as that. There were too many wards preventing him from releasing even a fraction more of his weakened spiritual pressure. It felt like being smothered under a huge, thick blanket. But he could deal with it. If he pushed the uneasy feelings to the back of his mind, maybe he wouldn't look so weak and vulnerable. There was no way he was going to give the Shinigami the pleasure of seeing him uncomfortable.

Adapting the calmest, collected pose he could muster, Grimmjow swaggered out of the cell, past the stiff-looking guard who had one hand on the hilt of his zanpakutou, watching the Espada with an air of wariness. Throwing him a bored look, Grimmjow sauntered out into the corridor, stopping short in his tracks when a familiar face came into view.

Sleepy gray eyes met his blue orbs, and Stark ran a hand through his mop of straggly brown curls before yawning. "I slept well."

Grimmjow snorted. "Isn't that a surprise?"

The Sexta noticed several strands of what looked like silver threads glinting in the morning light, connected high up into the ceiling. Stark noticed the Sexta's curious gaze and smirked.

"Apparently my reiatsu fluctuated between extremely high and low last night." Stark gave a light chuckle. "It was a full moon."

"And you were inclined to howl at it?"

Tapping the collar around his neck, the Primera grinned. "Woof."

Four guards led them through the building to the outside, into the bright morning sun. It seemed to be a large garden of sorts, filled with a wide expanse of healthy looking grass and plenty of flowerbeds. Vibrant bursts of color from flowers all around made Grimmjow balk, especially when he caught sight of a row of flaming orange dahlias. The guards left them to their own devices and slid out of sight. They were obviously meant to spend the rest of the day here as some sort of liberation on the benevolence of the Shinigami.

"Soul Society isn't as cruel as I'd imagined." Grimmjow said softly, watching Stark's expression change as he gave him a sideways glance.

"Are you crazy? We're going to die."

"It's a lot better than Aizen's punishments."

The Primera sighed. "Can't argue with that."

They sat in comfortable silence, taking in the scenery around them. It was a stark contrast to the normal white and black they were so used to, but the change was probably for the better. Grimmjow thought he had never seen so much green in one place for the whole of his life. There were a variety of sounds; crickets chirping, birds twittering, the faraway shouts of people and the familiar sound of swords clashing against each other. If Grimmjow tilted his head at the right angle, he could almost pick out which sword was clashing against which. His hearing was that sharp.

He turned to look at Stark. "I may die of boredom here before the real death sentence."

"Be careful what you wish for." Chuckling, Stark lay down on the grass, using his arm to pillow his head.

"That wasn't even a wish!"

Stark gave him a one shoulder shrug and promptly shut his eyes. Grimmjow made a face. They were being held captive and all the idiot wanted to do was sleep? He'd be doing plenty of that, anyway. After they were cleansed. Not that Grimmjow was really looking forward to it. Once they were supposedly purified by the swords of the Shinigami, they would be reborn as souls in Soul Society. Grimmjow didn't know what to think of that. He rather liked the way he was now. He sat beside Stark's sleeping form, staring out at the big stretch of grass as he mulled over the chances the Shinigami would allow him to see Ichigo before he was . . . well, gone. Yesterday he'd been hopeful on Ulquiorra bringing help from Aizen, but even if they knew where Grimmjow and Stark were, it wasn't like they could just waltz into Soul Society and drag them away. Things were a whole lot more complicated than that.

Grimmjow slid his tongue over his upper lip, feeling the dry, chapped skin. He'd be damned if he was just going to accept his fate and die by the hands of the Shinigami. It wasn't like him not to go down without a fight. The soul reapers had had a tough time trying to capture him anyway; he knew for sure they'd be on their guard now. The entire place was filled with them – the familiar, sharp scent of their kind made his nostrils tingle and his skin prickle. He pondered over some possible escape schemes.

He could go on a wild rampage, but there was a needle thin chance of him getting out of the place. Grimmjow knew he could escape the building he was held captive in just fine and dandy – no big deal; the guards weren't strong enough to hold him in anyway – so that just left navigating around Soul Society. It was a new place; he couldn't just rush out and expect to find the exit. He had no sense of direction in this area; hadn't marked out any proper escape routes in the small amount of time he'd been here. Of course, there was the option of just trusting his instincts, but that would be a giant risk if he wanted to get free alive.

Scheme number two was less reckless, but it had a low chance of working. Grimmjow considered waiting until the last day for his execution, and then breaking loose into the area with Stark – then go into hiding. They could block out their spiritual pressure easily – even more so now with the aid of the kidou-infested collars – and sneak their way to an exit. Kicking a small pebble across the grass and watching it skitter into a pool of coy fish, Grimmjow let out a frustrated growl. He was going to be terminated in two more days! There had to be something he could do.

"Will you please relax?" Stark's voice floated out to him, tugging him out of his internal argument. "You're attracting a lot of unwanted attention."

There was a high-pitched, tinny beeping sound coming from his neck. Without realizing it, Grimmjow had been letting loose a lot of spiritual energy, unconsciously allowing his reiatsu to spread all around the area. The collar around his neck was barely holding back the raw, untamed power. Unfortunately, the guards had returned, and were watching him warily. They looked like they had been expecting a breakout. Swiftly, Grimmjow lowered the amount of his reiatsu to a comfortable level.

Throwing them a scornful glare, Grimmjow sauntered over to the white wall and leaned against it. He shut his eyes and let his shoulders drop, sagging against the cemented brick as the warm rays of sunshine touched his skin. The guards strolled away after some time, but he knew they would be back the instant his spiritual pressure went over the collar's limit.

"This place is stifling." Grimmjow exhaled a heavy breath through his nose. "I want to do something."

Yawning, Stark sat up and stretched. He looked slightly refreshed, and just a tinge of excitement hung about his aura. "What did you have in mind?"

x

Shinigami were soon running over to the Section Building A, where the Espada – currently Soul Society's most notorious captives – were housed. Hurried footsteps and the clanging of swords could be heard, accompanied by frenzied shouts and hollers for backup to help with the fray. Grimmjow and Stark were both fighting them off, but the lesser ranked Shinigami and their guards were no match for the Primera and Sexta. As more Shinigami arrived on the scene, more were thrown up in the air, tossed over the wall that fenced the section building in; most sported bruises, scrapes and scratches, but otherwise they remained unharmed. Grimmjow was making sure to keep his claws in.

They could take them on without weapons, which was a good thing. Fighting the small fry was at least something fun; Grimmjow didn't like just lying around doing nothing. As he threw a terrified Shinigami up into the air, Stark kicked another through the wall of rice paper, crumbling the décor of the room within and adding more rubble to the mound of destruction. There were many Shinigami passed out, strewn on the grass and all around the building like pieces of crumpled paper would around a trash can.

"Abarai Fuku-taichou!" A Shinigami bowed low in respect, hurrying alongside the running lieutenant. "We've tried everything; the prisoners are just too strong . . ."

"I'm on it." Renji gave him a curt nod and rushed down the long stretch of hallway, heading straight toward the source of the frenzied yelling and sounds that suggested people being thrown skyward.

The redhead came to a stop outside in the courtyard, eying the piles of limp bodies and a certain grinning blue haired Arrancar standing in their midst. Grimmjow looked incredibly pleased with himself. There was a savage, hungry glint in his cerulean eyes that definitely told Renji he was feeling the thrill of fighting – despite the Shinigami being no match for his power.

As Grimmjow batted a Shinigami toward Stark, who was about to give him a kick that would definitely send him flying into the air and sailing over the wall, Renji placed one hand on his zanpakutou and slashed the jagged blade of Zabimaru outward, yelling its release command. His sword shot forward, pinning both Grimmjow and Stark against the wall, which cracked under the impact of being collided into by the brunt force. The jagged shaped blade had been swung in the opposite direction so it wouldn't slice through the Espada, but Grimmjow and Stark had protective Hierro that wouldn't give way under such a feather light attack.

"Oh." Stark said quietly, running his fingers over the serrated edges of Renji's zanpakutou. "You swung it the wrong way. Was it by accident?"

"You two," The fiery lieutenant practically snarled through gritted teeth. "Are you looking for a quicker way to die? You know your death sentence is in –!"

"Shut it." Grimmjow scoffed, irritating Renji further by drumming his long, dangerously sharp nails on the smooth part of Zabimaru's blade.

Renji exploded. "What did you think you were doing?"

Narrowing his eyes, Grimmjow avoided the redhead's furious gaze and turned to stare daggers at the trampled grass, as if willing it to wilt under his gaze. Pushed up against the wall beside him, Stark feigned interest in a nearby pool, where coy fish swam about, oblivious to the turmoil outside of their aquatic habitat. Renji drew in a deep breath to calm himself before extracting his zanpakutou from the wall.

"How could you do something like this?" Renji asked in an obviously controlled tone. "I had to argue with my captain to allow the both of you some free time outside of your cells, but this is how you repay Kuchiki-Taichou's kindness?"

Grimmjow scrutinized the disappointed redhead's face, then exchanged a glance with Stark.

"Say you're sorry." Stark muttered softly. In a louder tone, he smiled apologetically at Renji. "We're sorry. We were just bored, and then one of us came up with a good idea . . ."

"It sounded like fun at the time." Grimmjow managed to mumble, though the impish look in his cerulean eyes were far from anything close to apologetic.

Renji heaved a sigh. "Let me guess, it was Grimmjow's idea, right?"

Grinning widely, the Sexta straightened his white jacket. "You're pretty smart for a Shinigami."

The look on Renji's face flickered between borderline amusement and exasperation. "Time for you two to head back into your cells now."

After safely depositing the Espada into their respective quarters, the redhead wondered how he was going to explain the major disturbance to his Captain.

Maybe he could just wing it.

x

Unohana tilted the cup to the child's lips, but his foot almost caught her in the chest. She reeled back just in time, somehow managing not to spill the liquid in her hands. Several officers of her division were holding the boy down before her, but they had a bit of trouble trying to get him to stay still. Honey brown eyes glared, and small white teeth were gritted as Ichigo fought against the Shinigami. He had no desire to be fed something he knew would change him from the way he was now.

"Kurosaki-kun, I cannot help you regain your original form if you continue to refuse this drink." The Fourth Division Captain sat back on her heels and shook her head sadly. "I thought I explained everything to you in great detail. You must drink this so you can turn back to normal again."

Ichigo lashed out, launching himself toward one of the smaller Shinigami hovering near his knee. As his teeth latched onto his wrist, he was rewarded with a shriek of pain as he punctured through skin. There was the iron-like taste of blood in his mouth, and Ichigo spat. More Shinigami were rushing in, grabbing him by the arms and legs as he continued to thrash and yell, struggling against his captors' hold.

"Please drink this." Unohana's face was set in a determined look. "I am under orders to help you regain your true self, Kurosaki-kun. If there's a shred of the old you in there somewhere, I trust you –!"

"Shut up!" Ichigo hissed, squirming for all he was worth. "Get away!"

"How dare you speak to our Captain like that?" An officer yelled into his face. "We won't stand for it!"

A fist connected with his jaw, but the force wasn't strong enough to push him back very far. Ichigo glared, his gaze furiously defiant. There were red and black tendrils of power flowing around him. The Shinigami backed away quickly, shooting worried glances in their Captain's direction. Despite her officers' obvious alarm, Unohana remained calm and collected. She stared Ichigo in the eye, leveling his incensed gaze with her own. She had tried everything; talking and explaining to cajoling and finally, a little bit of force. Yamamoto-Taichou was adamant that Ichigo be reverted to his teenage years before his small body got warped in that form forever. Unohana hadn't realized this would take a lot more than persuasion and candy.

Maybe it was time for the next option. Turning to her nervous looking Lieutenant, Unohana gave her a warm smile.

"Isane, let's get permission to talk to the Espada."

x

Day number two in this hellhole, Grimmjow thought with a bored sort of acceptance as he blinked up at the ceiling. He found it slightly absurd that he missed the white sands of Las Noches, and the familiar feel of his safe quarters around him. Of course, he also missed a certain orange haired boy leaping onto his chest for a daily wake up call, but Grimmjow shoved the thought away with more force than necessary. The real reason why Ichigo had been captured was his fault. He'd been the one in charge, and Ulquiorra had warned them to stay close, but he hadn't listened, so this was how the cookie crumbled.

Or in his case, crushed. Possibly stepped on by a huge Menos' boot-clad foot and left to wallow in its misery.

Grimmjow wondered if his mind was going kinda barmy, then blamed it on the ugly looking cell he was being kept in.

An image of Ichigo beaming up at him flashed into his mind, and Grimmjow caught the memory with a fond smile. He would give his arms and legs to be able to see that smile again. Sitting up and running a hand through his now messy blue locks, the Sexta sighed. Maybe it was a bad idea to let himself get too attached – and to a human child, no less. Because when you got close to something, all the necessary emotions were involved. Grimmjow chewed on his bottom lip, scolding himself for growing soft. There was no need for regrets right now; he didn't need anymore negative feelings clouding his conscience.

"This wasn't how I'd imagined dying." He muttered, fiddling with the thin white straps on his black boots.

"Then how would you have imagined it?"

Surprised, Grimmjow whirled around to face the pillars at the entrance of his cell. A stately woman with long braided hair that wound around her neck smiled serenely at him. He noticed she wore the customary white haori. Another captain.

"Good morning, Grimmjow."

Her gentle voice sent chills down his spine. Grimmjow narrowed his cerulean orbs at her. He could tell she was wearing a mask, and wondered what she had to hide beneath the sweet exterior. Judging by the unreadable aura she carried on her, Grimmjow guessed she would make a formidable opponent.

"How are you feeling today?"

There was no doubt about what she was inquiring after – the punishment he and Stark had received upon orders from Yamamoto because of their reckless actions; namely tossing a few nameless Shinigami over their shoulders like nobody's business, and generally disrupting the peace. The reddish welts of the whipping Grimmjow had accepted without flinching – alright, so maybe he did flinch, but he didn't cower like a simpering sod, at least, which was considered good for his pride in his books – were gradually disappearing thanks to his natural health regeneration. Wary of the woman's unfamiliar aura, Grimmjow didn't give her the satisfaction of receiving a proper response; just continued the staring match. She surprised him by laughing.

"The two of you are quite alike; it never fails to amaze me. But then again, both of you seem very close."

He held no misgivings that she was talking about Ichigo. Grimmjow clenched his fist in the folds of the bedspread. She must have noted the surly expression on his face, for she pressed a hand against the bars of the cell he was locked in. The pillars slid upward, and she gestured with one hand for him to stand.

"I'm sure you must be very worried about him. You were, after all, his adopted father during the time he stayed with you in Las Noches."

"I still am." Grimmjow slid to his feet and stretched, still keeping his eyes on her.

Accepting his bold statement with a gracious nod, she turned to go with a smile.

"Why don't you come with me and visit him?"

"So what's this, some sort of trap?" Grimmjow gave her his best sneer. "You're not baiting me that easily, woman."

The captain's smile did not falter as she turned back to face him. "How rude of me for not introducing myself. I am the Captain of the Fourth Division, Unohana Retsu. I know you are worried for the child, despite the threatening demeanor you're emanating, but really, you don't need to be so stiff. I understand your concerns as a prisoner."

"Is that so?" Narrowing his eyes, Grimmjow folded his arms across his chest and scoffed. "How do I know you're not just lying?"

Unohana's gaze hardened. "My division has been called pathetic, derogatory terms for the weakest group of the Gotei Thirteen, Grimmjow. But one thing we have never been called are liars. Now you can either choose to follow me and see your son, or stay where you are and spend the rest of the day cooped up in that cell. The wards and pillars will restore themselves in under three minutes."

The Sexta didn't need to be told twice.

x

There were sounds of someone crying. It sounded vaguely familiar, but Grimmjow couldn't tell with all the noise of hurried footsteps and loud commands coming from a big training courtyard. There were sounds of bamboo swords colliding with hard surfaces, and the strident, staccato bark of someone giving orders. He walked slowly after the gently smiling Captain, keeping his hands in his pockets. As he received curious stares from the Shinigami they passed, he made sure to snarl and bare his teeth in a feral fashion, laughing when the stares turned into looks of alarm.

"I'll thank you not to do that." Unohana rebuked him with a knowing smile. "The members of my division receive enough bullying as it is."

Grimmjow raised an eyebrow at her, but obliged. They rounded a corner, and Unohana paused to nod at a short, black haired Shinigami with droopy eyes and a red target on his forehead. "Loser" screamed the piece of white paper stuck onto the pin just inches from his face, in bold black calligraphy. On his shoulder was another piece of paper with words in red "Please Kick". Grimmjow smirked, leering at the quivering Shinigami who didn't dare meet his mocking gaze.

"See me after this, Hanatarou." Unohana gave him a gentle smile. "We'll discuss some things over tea."

As they entered a large, bright room, Grimmjow stopped in his tracks to take in the sight around him. The room vaguely reminded him of the insides of Aizen's buildings; vast and mostly bare save for one solitary painting hanging from the wall to his far end. At Unohana's smile and raised eyebrow, he stepped in reluctantly, feeling more than a little nervous. What would she have to show him in here? This room could probably house all the Espada and maybe even their Fraccion.

Something dived for his legs, and Grimmjow stepped back instinctively, hands ready to strike. Bright orange hair greeted him, and a happy, incoherent yell reached his ears.

"Ichigo!" He breathed, dropping to one knee and pulling the small bundle of excitement close into the tightest embrace he'd ever given.

They shared a long, squeezing hug.

"As you can see, Kurosaki-kun has not been feeling well since the separation." Unohana said softly. "Perhaps if you are nearby, he would consent to eat some of the food we have prepared for him."

Grimmjow didn't like the way she said his name. It sounded as if she was making him seem like someone else. "His name is Ichigo."

She tilted her head to the side and smiled. "Would you care to dine with him? He hasn't eaten anything since the time he arrived in here."

"Smart boy."

Unohana gave him another serene smile. "Did you teach him not to accept things from strangers?"

"It's just common sense." Grimmjow sneered at her. "What's it to you, anyway?"

Ichigo clutched at the folds of Grimmjow's jacket, pleading honey brown eyes boring into his adopted father's blue ones. "Daddy, don't fight."

There was an uncomfortable silence that hung over the room. Grimmjow cleared his throat and stared at the air above Ichigo's head, while Unohana continued smiling, but this time it looked like a forced expression. The air was strained and tense. Ichigo snuggled into his father's chest, feeling a little intimidated. After a moment, he pulled out the souvenir from the fair and waved it in front of Grimmjow's face.

"Look Daddy! I still have the coin."

"That's good, are you taking care of it?" Grimmjow asked distractedly.

"Of course!"

They were interrupted as a trolley was wheeled in, and food laid out before them on a lovely wooden table. Unohana nodded her thanks to the Shinigami servants and gestured to the food.

"Before the child eats, I should warn you that I am under orders of Yamamoto-Taichou, who insisted Kurosaki-kun be returned to his original form before his soul gets warped in his current one. Should he cry or scream during the process, you are entitled to help calm him down." Unohana explained darkly, watching Grimmjow's surprised face like a hawk.

Cry or scream? Grimmjow was appalled. It sounded like they were about to torture the child instead of helping him revert back to his normal age! A wave of bitter anger spiked through him, making him frown in annoyance as he thought of the lengths the Shinigami he hated would go to in order to gain from this young teenager. Ichigo was still a child in human years; he was under the legal age of eighteen. What did these Shinigami think he could do? Save them single handedly while juggling his high school life? Of course, Grimmjow was fully aware that this was what Ichigo would have been doing – if he wasn't a toddler – but it still didn't sit right with him.

Ichigo was being treated like bait.

Grimmjow was angry with himself for caring.

"We took extra precautions to add some of the medicinal drugs into his food." The black haired captain said with a proud smile. "Now, I'll let you and Kurosaki-kun have some time to yourselves."

"Very kind of you." Grimmjow muttered under his breath as she exited the room, sliding the door shut behind her.

When she left, it felt like a huge surge of relief flooding his veins. Grimmjow turned to look down at Ichigo, who was shyly twisting the hem of his Espada jacket into a knot. He answered his sudden urge to hug the boy close to him, smooshing his face into his jacket-clad chest without a care in the world. It was only when Ichigo began to whimper and feebly push at his arms did he let go and allow the boy some fresh air.

"Are you hungry?"

Ichigo shook his head, then nodded yes. "A little bit."

"Then why don't you try eating?" Grimmjow offered him a smile, forking a small dumpling with the pair of chopsticks prepared beside the food bowls. "Here, this looks good."

To his surprise, Ichigo buried his face in the folds of his jacket.

Grimmjow was on full alert.

"What's going on?" He coaxed, ruffling Ichigo's soft hair. "What's wrong?"

When the boy refused to answer, Grimmjow tried a firmer tone. "Ichigo, tell Daddy what's wrong."

He received a mumble in response.

Still, he had sharper-than-normal hearing.

"If you don't eat, you're not gonna grow any bigger or stronger."

Another mumble, this time one octave louder.

"I thought you wanted to grow up and become strong, just like Daddy."

Ichigo huffed into his jacket.

Grimmjow sighed and dropped a chaste kiss on the boy's head, balancing the chopsticks in one hand. "Come on, you've got to eat something at least."

"No."

Ah, this was what he'd been waiting for.

"Why not?"

". . . Because."

"Because what?"

Frustrated, Ichigo gurgled.

Grimmjow bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

"Daddy can't understand that."

"I don't wanna."

"I know you don't wanna, I'm asking why you don't wanna."

"Hnn."

Nudging Ichigo with his arm, Grimmjow chuckled when the boy half-heartedly smacked his chest with a fist. Reaching out with one finger, he prodded Ichigo's cheek.

"Tell me."

Prod.

"Talk to me."

Poke.

"You're hungry, aren't you?"

Pokey-poke.

"I know you're hungry."

Pokey-poke-poke.

"Because!" Ichigo finally snapped. "If I eat that then . . ."

He trailed off, blinking back tears that were threatening to fall.

"Then?" Grimmjow prompted helpfully.

"I won't be able to see Daddy again, ever." Ichigo stated solemnly, pushing away from Grimmjow and sitting in front of him with a serious pose. A tinge of uncertainty clouded his face. "Right?"

Grimmjow burst out laughing. While Ichigo stared up at him accusingly, the Sexta composed himself and allowed one last chuckle to escape before scooping Ichigo up into his arms again and giving him a big hug. Wrapping his arms around him, Grimmjow stood up and whirled around the room, swinging Ichigo's light frame with ease.

"You are so adorable."

He kissed Ichigo's forehead.

"So, so cute."

Two kisses for both his pink, chubby cheeks.

"I love you, Ichigo."

He kissed his nose. As he drew back, studying Ichigo's face, he watched a crimson red blush taint his little boy's cheeks, adding another dose of adorability to his already adorable child. And, just to see the blush deepen, Grimmjow said it again.

"Daddy loves you, Ichigo."

If only he knew just how much.

x

I'm sure he knows, Grimmjow! :)