LOG; through empty hours; GRIMMJOW + ULQUIORRA
who; Grimmjow and Ulquiorra
what; Ulquiorra's first loss~
when; Last night
where; Ulquiorra's room
rating; PG-13
Grimmjow had been growing more and more restless since Aizen had arrived in Paradisa. He didn't know what the hell Aizen was thinking or planning, but he wanted something to happen and he wanted it now. There were shinigami here -- and though the Espada were outnumbered, he thought that he and Ulquiorra could easily take them out.
When Ulquiorra didn't respond to his post (typical of that arrogant shithead, he thought) he just went to his room, walking swiftly through the halls to find that familiar reiatsu.
"Oi." He paused in front of the door before rattling the doorknob impatiently. Damnit, locked. "Open the fuckin' door."
Ulquiorra lay flat on his bed, eyes shut, dozing. He wasn't tired, but there was no task at hand, nothing to be done, and so he did nothing. When he sensed the all too familiar reiatsu storming ahead of it's owner, he closed his eyes a bit tighter and resolved to continue to do nothing for the rest of the night.
"Oi. Open the fuckin' door."
A muscle tensed in Ulquiorra's jaw. The doorknob began to rattle, shaking the entire door on it's hinges. Slowly, Ulquiorra cracked one eyelid open.
And saw nothing. Both of his eyes flew wide open.
Black.
Suddenly the sound of his own breathing drowned out the door coming apart.
Damnit, Grimmjow was not in the mood for waiting for Ulquiorra to open the door. As impatient as ever, he took a step back and blasted the door open with a cero.
"Grimmjow," said Ulquiorra. He knew it was Grimmjow of course. The reiatsu was unmistakable. And the mode of entrance. But the world was black and when he flicked through his memories there was nothing to compare it to. No previous data. No incoming data. He felt the need to verify, and realized that his hands were stretched out before him, brushing over something cold and flat. "Mirror." He remembered staring at his own reflection in Aizen-sama's dark eyes.
"I must see Aizen-sama immediately," said Ulquiorra suddenly, and, standing up, promptly tripped over what felt like a foot.
... Something was off. What the fuck? Since when had Ulquiorra done anything like that? As far as he could remember, Ulquiorra had always been the poised, calm one -- his movements never faltered, nor was there anything but deliberate purpose behind all his acts. Grimmjow narrowed his eyes at him, trying to place what was wrong.
"What the fuck is wrong with ya? Don't shit yourself tryin' to get to Aizen-sama. I asked him if we were gonna do anythin' around here and he told me to be fuckin' patient." He knew he shouldn't be ranting to Ulquiorra, but he couldn't help but feel angry and dissatisfied. Was this going to be made into another bullshit mission, like the raid on Karakura just to kidnap Inoue Orihime?
"I must see Aizen-sama," repeated Ulquiorra, rising to his feet and picking his way carefully across the room, following the bits of broken door with his feet to find his way. Sounding faintly surprised even to himself, he said, "I'm blind."
He paused in his progress when his hands closed around either side of the doorframe, opened his mouth, and closed it. He had nearly asked Grimmjow for help. Grimmjow who was suddenly very capable of having a go at murdering him, to ascend from his position as the sexta.
Ulquiorra stopped and waited. For once, it seemed, the ball was in Grimmjow's court.
So that was it, then. Ulquiorra's eyes were blank and unfocused. Aizen's eyes around Paradisa, it seemed, were closed for the time being. Grimmjow walked up to him, drawing closer until he pushed the smaller arrancar to the wall. Resting one hand on the wall behind Ulquiorra, he lowered his head to his ear.
"I could kill ya right now, ya know."
Ulquiorra thought that he feared the darkness, the possibility losing his worth as an espada, was far worse a fate then death.
"Then do it," he said coldly. He had watched Grimmjow kill Luppi without a second's though, nor a second's remorse. And he had long since come to terms with the fact that such a death, unmourned and likely scorned, was the best an Espada could ever expect. But still. The air felt suddenly chilly, as if he had only just realized it was warm.
Stepping back, Grimmjow drew his sword in one fluid motion, pointing the blade to Ulquiorra's throat. He felt oddly .. unfulfilled, and any joy he might have previously found in doing the act was not present.
"Ain't ya even gonna try to put up a fight?" Why was he still talking? It would be easy enough, too easy, as easy as killing Luppi had been, to destroy the fourth Espada with one swift movement.
"Of course I will," said Ulquiorra without thinking, To die without fighting? An end befitting only trash. No matter where he looked it was dark, but his skin was still harder than steel, and his sword hung light at at his waist, and what felt like years ago in a different world, Aizen-sama had marked him with the number. Cuatro.
He could feel the power of Pantera, hot and sharp and impatient, so very much the essence of Grimmjow, radiating against his skin. He took a step forward so that the blade was touching the skin of his neck. With breath just slightly unsteady, he asked, "Will you try?"
Why was he still hesitating.
He slowly drew his blade down, the sharp edge tearing through Ulquiorra's garments. The room was silent, save for their breathing, and the sound of Pantera cutting through the cloth -- which was longing to cut through more than just that.
And it was then that he realized.
The gothic four that had been tattooed onto Ulquiorra's skin, that showed his rank and signified power, was completely gone. Instead, there was only a bare expanse of chest, unmarked and unblemished, unlike those of the Privaron Espada, who had their tattoos forcibly removed.
".... Cuatro Espada. Is that what ya are?"
Hesitation, Ulquiorra realized, listening to the soft noises of his torn clothing dropping to the ground at his feet. Why else waste his time with... Ulquiorra shifted, tense, his bare shoulders blades brushing the wall at his back... with this.
He could see that memory very clearly, the picture of his own chest, blank, his fingers trailing over the place where it had been. Gone. Dissipated into white, just as now the world had into black. Perhaps, he thought, that was what "Paradisa" was. A place to be consumed. Not so different from Hueco Mundo after all.
The words came out dull, toneless. "So now you know. I have lost my name tag. But you know as well, have seen with your own eyes from right beside me, that my powers are the same. I ask again. Will you try it?"
It was that moment when Grimmjow realized that he respected Ulquiorra. Not just because of his ranking, or because of his strength (though that did help). True, none of their kind would die without a fight, but. Ulquiorra had been at his side throughout their entire stay in Paradia, and .. well. Fuck.
He gave a short laugh at the irony of it all. This whole time, when he had been baiting Ulquiorra to fight, to ascend the ranks, to get straight to the fuckin' top, the other Espada would only give him a fight when pressed with a handicap like blindness.
"I'll kill ya," he started. "I'll kill ya, but only when you'll give me one hell of a fight. And that time ain't now. I don't wanna go easy on ya just cos you're blind." Grimmjow said this, knowing that Ulquiorra would be perfectly capable of an exhilarating fight even in his current state.
"I'll prove that ya ain't so far above me ... on equal terms. And don't go easy on me, I wanna see what you're made of, Ulquiorra. I ain't trash, and ya won't need to hold back with me." The thought of fighting him right now was tempting, he would admit. If goaded just a little, he would snap, and he knew it.
It didn't make sense. He was blind, lesser. Logic dictated that he ought to be dead, or fighting for his life. Espada knew not such things as mercy or honor. There was only power and survival. The word on his lips was Why. Why was the storm of Pantera's power seeping backwards and away, why did Grimmjow care what sort of fight it was, why...
What came out was, "I must see Aizen-sama immediately," and he was already stumbled out of the folds of his torn jacket, feeling his way along the wall towards the door.
It didn't make any sense to Grimmjow at all, either. Maybe, he thought, the castle was fucking around with him, too. That would explain it. He'd think about it later, when Ulquiorra wasn't pissing him off again.
"Tch, ya ain't goin' nowhere like that," he remarked. "Aizen-sama ain't doin' shit, and he won't miss ya for .. a week, or however long these things last."
"You don't speak for Aizen-sama," said Ulquiorra coolly, in what he hoped was Grimmjow's general direction, before stepping out the door. It would be difficult to find the way with only the meticulously suppressed reiatsu of Aizen-sama to guide his steps, but he must be informed immediately. A week without reporting to him? Ulquiorra walked as fast as he considered was dignified, before he remembered that he wasn't wearing a shirt, and decided to pick up a cautious run, one bare arm stretched forward.
...Luppi had better not be around.
...
On second thought, maybe he would kill him right now.
Flash-stepping in front of Ulquiorra (doubtless, the other arrancar had no fuckin' idea of what his surroundings were like), Grimmjow punched him in the face and delivered a few more quick blows to his body.
"Dumbass, ya were gonna hit a fuckin' wall. NOW STOP FUCKIN' AROUND. YA CAN TELL HIM THROUGH THE JOURNALS."
Ulquiorra raised a hand to an eye that would surely turn black and swollen in an hour, then pressed it over a bruised cheek, pressing hard until it hurt.
"The journals. You're right." Ulquiorra was suddenly... angry. I am blind. Which does not justify stupidity. And shamed. How much weakness had Grimmjow seen in him tonight? How much did Aizen-sama see in him every time he looked and -- No. The more he thought about Aizen-sama, considered everything that he might say, anything he might do, the more his thoughts escaped him. A short, simple message on his journal would suffice, and then he would await further orders while thinking about nothing.
"My room," said Ulquiorra, "Which way is it. Please."
"Just shut up." He grabbed Ulquiorra's arm and pulled him back into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He pushed him roughly onto the bed.
...
"Actually, nah. I'm gonna sleep on the bed." With that, Grimmjow pushed him right off and tossed a small book at him. "Oh, and here's your journal. Have fun tellin' Aizen-sama how the castle's fuckin' with ya."
Being pulled around while blind was disconcerting. Every step he half expected his foot to meet the vast black opening that was all he could see, and fall into it. Slightly dizzy, Ulquiorra thought that Grimmjow could have the bed. The floor, solid and hard and there, was infinitely more comforting. He opened the journal and quickly, quietly, dictated the message he had already formulated. When ten minutes of silent waiting brought no reply, he shut it carefully and lay back on the floor, curling up slightly on his side. The events of what couldn't have been longer than half an hour had left him feeling tired, a bit drained, the way he felt after sharing a large amount of memories through his eye... sleep came quickly.
what; Ulquiorra's first loss~
when; Last night
where; Ulquiorra's room
rating; PG-13
Grimmjow had been growing more and more restless since Aizen had arrived in Paradisa. He didn't know what the hell Aizen was thinking or planning, but he wanted something to happen and he wanted it now. There were shinigami here -- and though the Espada were outnumbered, he thought that he and Ulquiorra could easily take them out.
When Ulquiorra didn't respond to his post (typical of that arrogant shithead, he thought) he just went to his room, walking swiftly through the halls to find that familiar reiatsu.
"Oi." He paused in front of the door before rattling the doorknob impatiently. Damnit, locked. "Open the fuckin' door."
Ulquiorra lay flat on his bed, eyes shut, dozing. He wasn't tired, but there was no task at hand, nothing to be done, and so he did nothing. When he sensed the all too familiar reiatsu storming ahead of it's owner, he closed his eyes a bit tighter and resolved to continue to do nothing for the rest of the night.
"Oi. Open the fuckin' door."
A muscle tensed in Ulquiorra's jaw. The doorknob began to rattle, shaking the entire door on it's hinges. Slowly, Ulquiorra cracked one eyelid open.
And saw nothing. Both of his eyes flew wide open.
Black.
Suddenly the sound of his own breathing drowned out the door coming apart.
Damnit, Grimmjow was not in the mood for waiting for Ulquiorra to open the door. As impatient as ever, he took a step back and blasted the door open with a cero.
"Grimmjow," said Ulquiorra. He knew it was Grimmjow of course. The reiatsu was unmistakable. And the mode of entrance. But the world was black and when he flicked through his memories there was nothing to compare it to. No previous data. No incoming data. He felt the need to verify, and realized that his hands were stretched out before him, brushing over something cold and flat. "Mirror." He remembered staring at his own reflection in Aizen-sama's dark eyes.
"I must see Aizen-sama immediately," said Ulquiorra suddenly, and, standing up, promptly tripped over what felt like a foot.
... Something was off. What the fuck? Since when had Ulquiorra done anything like that? As far as he could remember, Ulquiorra had always been the poised, calm one -- his movements never faltered, nor was there anything but deliberate purpose behind all his acts. Grimmjow narrowed his eyes at him, trying to place what was wrong.
"What the fuck is wrong with ya? Don't shit yourself tryin' to get to Aizen-sama. I asked him if we were gonna do anythin' around here and he told me to be fuckin' patient." He knew he shouldn't be ranting to Ulquiorra, but he couldn't help but feel angry and dissatisfied. Was this going to be made into another bullshit mission, like the raid on Karakura just to kidnap Inoue Orihime?
"I must see Aizen-sama," repeated Ulquiorra, rising to his feet and picking his way carefully across the room, following the bits of broken door with his feet to find his way. Sounding faintly surprised even to himself, he said, "I'm blind."
He paused in his progress when his hands closed around either side of the doorframe, opened his mouth, and closed it. He had nearly asked Grimmjow for help. Grimmjow who was suddenly very capable of having a go at murdering him, to ascend from his position as the sexta.
Ulquiorra stopped and waited. For once, it seemed, the ball was in Grimmjow's court.
So that was it, then. Ulquiorra's eyes were blank and unfocused. Aizen's eyes around Paradisa, it seemed, were closed for the time being. Grimmjow walked up to him, drawing closer until he pushed the smaller arrancar to the wall. Resting one hand on the wall behind Ulquiorra, he lowered his head to his ear.
"I could kill ya right now, ya know."
Ulquiorra thought that he feared the darkness, the possibility losing his worth as an espada, was far worse a fate then death.
"Then do it," he said coldly. He had watched Grimmjow kill Luppi without a second's though, nor a second's remorse. And he had long since come to terms with the fact that such a death, unmourned and likely scorned, was the best an Espada could ever expect. But still. The air felt suddenly chilly, as if he had only just realized it was warm.
Stepping back, Grimmjow drew his sword in one fluid motion, pointing the blade to Ulquiorra's throat. He felt oddly .. unfulfilled, and any joy he might have previously found in doing the act was not present.
"Ain't ya even gonna try to put up a fight?" Why was he still talking? It would be easy enough, too easy, as easy as killing Luppi had been, to destroy the fourth Espada with one swift movement.
"Of course I will," said Ulquiorra without thinking, To die without fighting? An end befitting only trash. No matter where he looked it was dark, but his skin was still harder than steel, and his sword hung light at at his waist, and what felt like years ago in a different world, Aizen-sama had marked him with the number. Cuatro.
He could feel the power of Pantera, hot and sharp and impatient, so very much the essence of Grimmjow, radiating against his skin. He took a step forward so that the blade was touching the skin of his neck. With breath just slightly unsteady, he asked, "Will you try?"
Why was he still hesitating.
He slowly drew his blade down, the sharp edge tearing through Ulquiorra's garments. The room was silent, save for their breathing, and the sound of Pantera cutting through the cloth -- which was longing to cut through more than just that.
And it was then that he realized.
The gothic four that had been tattooed onto Ulquiorra's skin, that showed his rank and signified power, was completely gone. Instead, there was only a bare expanse of chest, unmarked and unblemished, unlike those of the Privaron Espada, who had their tattoos forcibly removed.
".... Cuatro Espada. Is that what ya are?"
Hesitation, Ulquiorra realized, listening to the soft noises of his torn clothing dropping to the ground at his feet. Why else waste his time with... Ulquiorra shifted, tense, his bare shoulders blades brushing the wall at his back... with this.
He could see that memory very clearly, the picture of his own chest, blank, his fingers trailing over the place where it had been. Gone. Dissipated into white, just as now the world had into black. Perhaps, he thought, that was what "Paradisa" was. A place to be consumed. Not so different from Hueco Mundo after all.
The words came out dull, toneless. "So now you know. I have lost my name tag. But you know as well, have seen with your own eyes from right beside me, that my powers are the same. I ask again. Will you try it?"
It was that moment when Grimmjow realized that he respected Ulquiorra. Not just because of his ranking, or because of his strength (though that did help). True, none of their kind would die without a fight, but. Ulquiorra had been at his side throughout their entire stay in Paradia, and .. well. Fuck.
He gave a short laugh at the irony of it all. This whole time, when he had been baiting Ulquiorra to fight, to ascend the ranks, to get straight to the fuckin' top, the other Espada would only give him a fight when pressed with a handicap like blindness.
"I'll kill ya," he started. "I'll kill ya, but only when you'll give me one hell of a fight. And that time ain't now. I don't wanna go easy on ya just cos you're blind." Grimmjow said this, knowing that Ulquiorra would be perfectly capable of an exhilarating fight even in his current state.
"I'll prove that ya ain't so far above me ... on equal terms. And don't go easy on me, I wanna see what you're made of, Ulquiorra. I ain't trash, and ya won't need to hold back with me." The thought of fighting him right now was tempting, he would admit. If goaded just a little, he would snap, and he knew it.
It didn't make sense. He was blind, lesser. Logic dictated that he ought to be dead, or fighting for his life. Espada knew not such things as mercy or honor. There was only power and survival. The word on his lips was Why. Why was the storm of Pantera's power seeping backwards and away, why did Grimmjow care what sort of fight it was, why...
What came out was, "I must see Aizen-sama immediately," and he was already stumbled out of the folds of his torn jacket, feeling his way along the wall towards the door.
It didn't make any sense to Grimmjow at all, either. Maybe, he thought, the castle was fucking around with him, too. That would explain it. He'd think about it later, when Ulquiorra wasn't pissing him off again.
"Tch, ya ain't goin' nowhere like that," he remarked. "Aizen-sama ain't doin' shit, and he won't miss ya for .. a week, or however long these things last."
"You don't speak for Aizen-sama," said Ulquiorra coolly, in what he hoped was Grimmjow's general direction, before stepping out the door. It would be difficult to find the way with only the meticulously suppressed reiatsu of Aizen-sama to guide his steps, but he must be informed immediately. A week without reporting to him? Ulquiorra walked as fast as he considered was dignified, before he remembered that he wasn't wearing a shirt, and decided to pick up a cautious run, one bare arm stretched forward.
...Luppi had better not be around.
...
On second thought, maybe he would kill him right now.
Flash-stepping in front of Ulquiorra (doubtless, the other arrancar had no fuckin' idea of what his surroundings were like), Grimmjow punched him in the face and delivered a few more quick blows to his body.
"Dumbass, ya were gonna hit a fuckin' wall. NOW STOP FUCKIN' AROUND. YA CAN TELL HIM THROUGH THE JOURNALS."
Ulquiorra raised a hand to an eye that would surely turn black and swollen in an hour, then pressed it over a bruised cheek, pressing hard until it hurt.
"The journals. You're right." Ulquiorra was suddenly... angry. I am blind. Which does not justify stupidity. And shamed. How much weakness had Grimmjow seen in him tonight? How much did Aizen-sama see in him every time he looked and -- No. The more he thought about Aizen-sama, considered everything that he might say, anything he might do, the more his thoughts escaped him. A short, simple message on his journal would suffice, and then he would await further orders while thinking about nothing.
"My room," said Ulquiorra, "Which way is it. Please."
"Just shut up." He grabbed Ulquiorra's arm and pulled him back into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He pushed him roughly onto the bed.
...
"Actually, nah. I'm gonna sleep on the bed." With that, Grimmjow pushed him right off and tossed a small book at him. "Oh, and here's your journal. Have fun tellin' Aizen-sama how the castle's fuckin' with ya."
Being pulled around while blind was disconcerting. Every step he half expected his foot to meet the vast black opening that was all he could see, and fall into it. Slightly dizzy, Ulquiorra thought that Grimmjow could have the bed. The floor, solid and hard and there, was infinitely more comforting. He opened the journal and quickly, quietly, dictated the message he had already formulated. When ten minutes of silent waiting brought no reply, he shut it carefully and lay back on the floor, curling up slightly on his side. The events of what couldn't have been longer than half an hour had left him feeling tired, a bit drained, the way he felt after sharing a large amount of memories through his eye... sleep came quickly.