Chapter Eight:

Bitter Reminder

Grimmjow exhaled noisily when they reached the outside of a dark room. Miyuki felt uneasy as she peered inside. What little light the torches from the hallway provided was swallowed in the pitch blackness. She could see nothing, but, from the cool draft that seemed to be pulling her in, she sensed it was a very large room indeed.

Before she could ask where they were, her master cut in, "Let me do the talkin'. The bitch who makes the clothes here don't take to strangers too much."

She nodded once and he sighed in relief. Good. She would listen to him for once.

He walked into the room, Miyuki trailing after him. "Oi! Amara! Turn on the lights in here! I can't see shit!" he yelled in the darkness, startling her.

She picked up a strange clicking noise farther ahead then the room lit up slightly. Small alcoves meant for holding torches hung along the walls, their fires burning low. It was still dim compared to the hallway, but at least she could see a little better.

Several mannequins of all shapes and sizes stood across a wall. Several had uniforms fitted on them, sewing needles sticking out of their heads. Rolling racks of clothes were organized in the corner in intricate rows.

She heard the clicking again and looked up, only to meet a pair of glowing yellow eyes. A startled noise squeezed out of her throat and she stumbled back into her master. He grunted in irritation and shoved her aside impatiently.

A dark-haired Arrancar crouched in the rafters just above them. Her mask was set over her eyes and ran down the sides of her face, ending in sharp fangs that curled inward toward her lips.

She grinned wickedly before she vanished, only to reappear in front of Grimmjow. Her reiatsu, so weak Miyuki hadn't registered it earlier, now flared up as she stared up at him. "It's been a while, mi amado," she purred, reaching up to stroke his face.

He slapped her hand away. "Ya know what I'm here for, Amara. Stop wastin' my time with yer shit."

His irritation didn't seem to deter her, however. She smiled at him, her tanned face flushing a slight pink. "You know I love when you talk that way, mi amado. And I see you were in another battle." She wiped a finger down his blood-stained arm and licked it sensually.

"Not even. Just took care of some dyin' bastard in my way," he replied, scowling.

Amara's eyes flickered to Miyuki. "Oh? And who's this?" she muttered. Her fangs clicked together, and the Fracción resisted the urge to shrink away.

So that was where that noise was coming from…she thought with a small frown.

He glanced back at Miyuki for a second before waving Amara away. "Nobody. Just a new Fracción."

Her eyes gleamed. "Fracción?" There was an edge to her voice. "But…if you needed a new Fracción—"

"I didn't. Aizen made me take her," he interrupted. "Hurry up and get my goddamn clothes already. I don't have all fuckin' day."

Amara smiled. "Oh? Don't you want to take a shower first?" There was something to her tone that made the Fracción uneasy.

"Well, yeah. Look at me. I got fuckin' drenched. Not as bad as the bloody sop there—" At this, Miyuki made an indignant noise. "—but still."

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Can I join you?" she hummed, rising on her toes to be at his eye level.

Miyuki's face became warm and she averted her gaze when she saw her master's eyes lid, as if he was considering her proposal. She cleared her throat to remind them of her presence.

He blinked and took a step back. "Not this time," he said in a low voice.

Miyuki felt hot. This time…?

Amara pouted. "Grimmjow, you hardly come by anymore. I'm lonely…."

He rolled his eyes and grumbled, "There's plenty 'a guys here fer ya."

"But none of them are you." There was something almost hungry in the way she leaned toward him.

Grimmjow turned to his Fracción and ordered, "Yer takin' a shower first, bloody sop."

She furrowed her eyebrows and was about to protest when he cut in, "Yeah, yeah. Yer name's Mori Miyuki. I know. Just wash all that crap off 'fore ya lecture my damn ear off."

Miyuki huffed and walked past him and Amara, past all the mannequins and clothing racks, to the bathroom on the far left end. She paused in the doorway and asked, "Where can I find spare clothes?"

She could hear those terrible fangs clicking even across the room. "I'll bring them over," Amara assured her.

She hesitated for a moment but decided there was no better option. She certainly couldn't have Grimmjow bring in her clothes.

As she shut the stone door behind her, she caught a glance of herself in the mirror and jumped. She looked ghastly. Blood clung to her hair, her skin, everywhere. Her lavender eyes were the only contrast to the bewildering red that enveloped her.

She shucked off her jacket, throwing it to the floor hurriedly as if to rid herself of the memory of killing Blanco. She grabbed the katana at her side and realized with a start that it was clean. Of all the things to be left untouched….

She leaned the sword against the wall by the sink, opening the cabinet underneath it and finding they held the same contents as her bathroom. Plucking a white towel from a stack, she headed over to the enclosed platform that served as a shower.

Miyuki shut her eyes and let the warm water run over her, hoping the blood would simply stream down her body, cleansing her of sin.

Her ears pricked up when the door opened and she looked back, raising her hands to cover her chest.

Amara walked in with a fresh pair of clothes, identical to the ones Miyuki had been wearing before. She laid the clothes carefully over the sink, placing a pair of socks and sandals over it. There was no other place to hang them, and it was close enough to the shower besides.

After a few seconds, she said, "So…you are Grimmjow's Fracción."

Feeling self-conscious, Miyuki turned her body away a little and nodded. "I am."

"A Número," she added, slight disdain coating her voice.

"Número?"

Amara clicked her fangs together. "You do not even know the privilege you have. Such a waste…" she muttered, more to herself than Miyuki.

"What is a Número?" she dared ask.

Amara glared at her. "They are Aizen-sama's warriors, Arrancars specifically chosen based on their strength and abilities. It is a great honor to be a numbered one."

The anger in her voice made Miyuki furrow her eyebrows. "Not all the Arrancars here are a part of his army?"

The seamstress held a thinly-veiled look of disgust. "There are few deemed worthy enough. And, with artificial creation of Arrancars through use of the Hogyoku, it is difficult for natural Arrancars such as myself to even be considered. Those made by the Hogyoku are all born strong."

Something flashed in Amara's eyes. "Is that why Grimmjow likes you? Because you are strong?"

Miyuki stared at her incredulously then burst out laughing. "Grimmjow doesn't like me. He tolerates me, at best." Seeing the Arrancar's eyes narrow, she added, "The feeling is mutual if that's what you were wondering."

Amara shook her head. "He treats you special. Normally, he would not act so familiar with a subordinate. It's as if you two are…friends." The short pause made Miyuki wonder if she had another word in mind.

She scoffed, "He only sees me as property, nothing more. I am no more his friend than a vase is."

Amara finally averted her gaze, and Miyuki couldn't help but feel relieved. Having someone stare so intensely at her while she was stark naked was unnerving.

The seamstress started for the door, picked up the bloodied clothes from where Miyuki had discarded them, and left without another word. Once she shut the door behind her, the Fracción sighed in relief.

How odd…she thought as she began scrubbing the blood from her skin. She truly believes I mean something to Grimmjow. She stifled a giggle. That's ridiculous.

Miyuki scrubbed her hair fiercely until she was sure no blood remained. Her fingers were beginning to prune, but she kept at it. She even took the time to clean her mask, a chunk of white bone that clung to the back of the right side of her head. There was a point on top shaped like a wolf's ear that was especially difficult to wash, but she managed nonetheless.

After what seemed like hours, she finally turned the water off, grabbing the towel she had hung behind her and drying herself off. Steam coiled around her and she sighed, feeling content.

She had just wrapped the towel around her body when the door burst open a second time, causing her to jump. Her master strolled in, shirtless and scowling.

"Grimmjow!" she yelled, scandalized. Her face flushed as she pulled the towel higher to cover her chest.

"How fuckin' long does it take for ya to take a goddamn shower? It's been over an hour already!" He threw his hand up in the air, exasperated.

"I was about to change!" she protested, crossing her arms self-consciously.

Unfortunately, this action brought his attention to her chest. He openly gaped at it for a few seconds, despite the towel's obstruction of his view, before slowly taking in her entire figure. Her body felt hot all the way to her toes.

He grinned at her. "Hmph, from the stiff way ya act, it's almost weird ta see ya got nice curves."

She blushed madly. "Wha—Why did you come in?!"

"I need ta take a shower, dumb shit. I was startin' ta feel nasty," he replied with a roll of his eyes. He gave her another once-over and leered again. "I woulda joined ya, but yer done now, I guess. Hmph, shoulda came in a little earlier—"

"Get out!" Miyuki shrieked. She grabbed the shampoo bottle and stomped out of the shower, aiming it at his head.

He only laughed, stuffing his hand into his pocket. "Figures when I actually compliment ya, ya fuckin' flip the hell out," he commented with an infuriating smirk.

She lowered the bottle, taken aback. "This isn't a compliment! This is an invasion of privacy!"

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever, just hurry the fuck up. Ya got five minutes. Then I'm comin' in whether yer ready 'r not." He marched out, muttering under his breath.

She scowled at the closed door as if she could burn a hole through it and vaporize her master. She settled for grumbling insults against him as she tugged on her clothes and strapped her katana to her waist. Miyuki quickly ran her fingers through her thick, knotted mess of hair and looked herself over in the mirror before rolling up her towel and trudging out of the bathroom.

Her master was leaning against the wall next to the door. He grinned again when she glared at him and attempted to whip him with her towel. He easily sidestepped the attack with a chuckle. "Nice try, shit-fer-brains," he said before shutting the door behind him.

Miyuki blew a few strands of hair out of her face and turned to leave, pausing when she saw Amara staring at her from her desk. She turned away and shuffled with some papers she had laid out.

She noticed that Amara was making a point of not looking at her as she approached. Instead of speaking, Miyuki offered her towel back to her.

Amara smirked but still refused to look at her. "You should've just left that in the bathroom," she advised.

Miyuki flushed, lowering the towel. "W-Well, thank you, anyway." She dipped her head slightly, placing the towel on the edge of the desk.

Amara's eyes widened and, this time, she did look over at her. "For what?"

"For the clothes. And for allowing me to take a shower."

It had seemed like such an obvious act of courtesy, but, judging by the bewildered expression on Amara's face, she must not have been thanked often, if at all. Her fangs clicked together in an almost curious manner. Miyuki bit her tongue to keep from cringing.

Amara faced the other way. Taking a shaky breath, she started, "Back there…when you said that Grimmjow only sees you as property…. You were wrong."

Miyuki's eyes widened. "What?"

"Grimmjow sees me as property. I am nothing but a tailor to him. Or plaything, when he is in the mood." She gave a half-hearted grin as she traced a ring of wood on her desk with a finger.

"I don't mind," Amara cut in before Miyuki could say anything. Grimmjow had complained earlier about his Fracción being annoyingly chatty. "It is an honor to be of use to someone as powerful as he is. And I am all too happy to serve him."

Her smile faded when she swiveled around to face the other girl. "But you…. He cares about you. When you were in the shower, he kept talking about you—griping, more like."

Her face twisted into a scowl. "He was worried you had collapsed from exhaustion in the bathroom because you were there so long. He takes time out of his day to train you, and you repay him with insults over petty matters. He rescues your sniveling hide over and over, and not once have you shown him gratitude. He even brought you here to give you new clothes, knowing I could not refuse the request if it came directly from him. He has done so much for you, and you take his generosity for granted." There was an undercurrent of rage in her voice.

Miyuki set her jaw. "I think Grimmjow hardly—"

"You are his Fracción. Not the other way around." Amara gave her a sugary smile. "Do take care to remember that before opening your mouth."

The two glared at each other, neither willing to look away first.

The temperature dipped sharply, and Amara straightened her back. A puff of cold air swirled out of her mouth and her sour expression morphed into one of confusion.

Miyuki tapped a finger to her palm and felt a splinter of ice scrape against it. There was a faint crackling noise as she slowly curled her hands into fists. Flakes of ice fluttered to the floor, melting as quickly as they had appeared.

She let out a long sigh and walked past her. "I won't do it," she whispered. The eerie, white glow surrounding her hands flickered for a moment, as if it refused to be put out, then died at the flick of her wrists.

She ignored Amara's bewildered stare and leaned against the wall next to the bathroom, waiting for her master to be finished.

Taking a moment to swallow her pride, Miyuki looked away and mumbled, "You are right about one thing."

Amara tilted her head.

"I owe Grimmjow my life, many times over." She wrapped her arms around herself. "He did not have to save me, either."

Miyuki allowed herself a small smile. "When I was made an Arrancar, Aizen ordered I become Grimmjow's Fracción right away. As insult to injury, I came with a condition: that I was not to be harmed by him or he would be punished. You know how difficult such an order would be for him."

She sighed. "I still do not know why Aizen had chosen me. I was just created. He could not know me, or how I would fare with Grimmjow."

Amara was silent for a moment, then, "It was probably a matter of convenience."

Miyuki's smile grew. "Perhaps it was."

A tiny Hollow scuttled across the floor. She watched it go, ignoring that base instinct within her to kill it. She was much too tired for that right now.

"His order was to not harm me. There was nothing in that order that said he had to protect me from anyone. In fact, I would have thought he would let me die, just to be rid of me."

The little Hollow squealed as Amara shot a net-like web at it from her wrist, trapping it.

"That would have been the smart thing to do," she agreed as she began to reel her prey in.

The crunch of bone and sinew echoed in the large room, making Miyuki's stomach both twist in disgust and growl in protest.

"I have to thank him," she said, finally.

Amara had finished off the rest of the Hollow before she spoke again. "It would seem now would be the time to do so."

Miyuki's eyes widened and she whirled around. Grimmjow stood next to her, a towel hanging around his neck. His hair was slicked back and dripping water all over the floor.

"The hell're ya lookin' at me like that for?" he asked, starting to towel-dry his hair. When he finished, it looked even messier than it usually did.

She looked away to hide a blush. As awful a person she knew him to be, Miyuki could not deny that, at times, she found her master attractive. She did not like to admit it, but there were times, during training and even after, where she would look at him and she would notice things. Like how toned his body was. How, when he thought she wasn't looking, the hard lines etched on his face would smooth out for an instant, making him seem thoughtful and calm. How the fire in his eyes lit up his whole being and had spread out to engulf her as well.

And now, he was near enough to where she could smell him, a strange blend of soap and blood and something else.

The "thank you" was there on her lips. She had more to say after that, too, but the words just did not come to mind. Not when he looked like this, not when he smelled as good as this.

Fumbled gratitude would not do. And so, rather than let her prepared "thank you" escape and tie her words, Miyuki only said, "Nothing…."

She pushed herself off the wall and started for the exit.

A/N: Amara means "bitter" in Latin. I laughed when I found a name that fit her character so well, lol. Originally, her name was going to be Araña, which means "spider" in Spanish, but I thought it would be messed up to have someone name their kid Araña, so I decided to change it. Araña would probably be her Resurreción, if anything.