(BleachTite Kubo)

My first Bleach one-shot. Might make more, dunno yet. If I get inspired, I'll write 'em up and see what happens.

Episode 167 was amazing to say the least. I won't spoil too much, and I deleated a lot of the obvious ones.

Well, introducing my favorite Bleach character

Grimmjow Jeagerjaques.

Gravity. The ground was pulling itself to him, making him fall to the ground. Even unconscious, he could still sense the wind slicing past him. Did he have wings? Would he crash? He didn't know. The darkness of a dream state engulfed him, leaving him at the mercy of Mother Earth.

How…did it end…like this?

Blood had flooded from his chest, jagged cuts all hanging in different directions. Sword cuts. They had pierced his armor, that so-called impenetrable armor.

I…was…supposed…

Hardly breathing, mouth agape; it was difficult to believe he was still alive.

To be…the…king…

Grimmjow's mind swept over past memories, some long forgotten and some not. He had been a Hollow, enjoying the peace of eating his brethren, growing stronger by the day. Fast and full of hate he had been, and he had loved every minute of it. Several Hollows had flocked to him, asking for a leader. As the old saying goes, he who gains everything receives power. Grimmjow couldn't turn away power. He was too greedy for that.

Kuso…shit!

Life was draining from him; breathing was harder, moving was slower. But…how had he managed to survive his fall?

Grimmjow didn't dare wake up when he was this injured. Dreaming was living, as far as he knew. As long as he slept, he would live a little longer. While he dreamed, he came to one conclusion.

Kurosaki…that bastard…

He had fallen, and the last thing his jade eyes had seen was a fake blue sky. Gravity had taken over from there, and he had lost control. No power to save him, no reiatsu to break his descent. It had to have been the shinigami, Kurosaki Ichigo. The strawberry child had grabbed him at the last minute.

But…why…

No explanation came to him. Why did the soul reaper think that an espada had to be saved? Did he do it out of respect? Grimmjow gritted his teeth. The black of an unknown world continued to blanket him, keeping him cold and dead to outsiders. Blood steadily flowed from him, and into the open air.

Am I really…going to die…here? In this…place?

Grimmjow knew he had begun to pity himself. It was the result of a weak heart, a weak life. He had lived as a Hollow for so long. Why was he so hurt, hurt at his heart, for dying? Even the pain of his injuries had subsided. Now, Grimmjow only felt angst for failing so quickly. He pounded the ground in his colorless dream world. He howled to the moon, the stars, anything he could think of. It had all caved in on him. The oath he had first made, to be the King, was now destroyed.

He could still remember when he was a Menos Hollow, flying through Hueco Mundo at a moment's notice. Four paws, a whip-like tail, and grinding teeth. That was what he had been, a panther Hollow, free to live his life. Eating and surviving had been his only concerns at the time. Until, he had become an arrancar, pulling away the mask that had detained him for so long. That was when soul reapers had arrived, pulling the arrancar together, forming an army. The power of humans, souls, and hollows was now theirs for the taking.

But so many things had gotten in the way. Aizen, the former captain who now led this damned place, had given him a job within his ranks. With the promise of even more power, Grimmjow accepted. He couldn't turn down such a wonderful offer. As soon as he became an Espada, other hollow began to follow him, listen to him, worship him. Power hungry as he was, Grimmjow still kept his distance from his so-called leader.

Now…I'm…I'm going to…

Then Kurosaki's gang had arrived, taking out one arrancar after another. The humans suffered for it, yes, but they were still crunching Hueco Mundo's defenses. And Grimmjow knew what motivated them so.

That woman…

Long, red tendrils of hair, an ample chest, and a light frame described Kurosaki's female. Her eyes had disturbed Grimmjow so many times. Determined, sad, but never frightened. Not even when he threatened her. He hated the ones who stood up to him; Kurosaki especially. But she -the one they were trying to rescue- she had so much drive. In a way, it was admirable.

He remembered walking in on the woman and Ulquiorra. Grimmjow despised his fellow espada with a vengeance, and the pale-faced one before him had topped the list. The woman was lying on the floor, staring at the drab carpet she was on. Ulquiorra towered over her, his eyes emotionless. For a reason he didn't know, Grimmjow had hated seeing him with her. After he had walked way, that feeling treaded after him. Why had he felt that way? Ulquiorra had always managed to piss him off, but what did the woman have to do with it? What had she done to him?

She had hooked him, with those soft eyes, fragile skin. Kurosaki's or not, Grimmjow loathed the human woman, eyeing her wherever she went and hating himself for what he thought of her. Light within the darkness, he once said.

No…not ever…

Wasted time was that woman. He hated her, with every fiber of his being. He hated Ulquiorra for standing him up so many times. He hated Kurosaki for defeating him during this battle. Anyone who claimed those pitying eyes, and looked down on him was deserving of his hate.

They will…all…die…

Grimmjow coughed imaginary blood, and wondered if he had done the same in the real world. Life was no longer a luxury for the arrancar. He had failed his duties. He had been severely wounded in the midst of a battle he'd sworn to win. If he survived, and the battle between the Soul Society and Las Noches was decided, how would the other Espada look at him? He would be the failed experiment, the failed Hollow. Doomed he would be, to eternal embarrassment and explicit annoyances. Everyday he'd be haunted by their laughs, their pitying faces. Grimmjow couldn't bare it. He never would. He had to live, make it through another battle. He'd fought and killed so many others. Kurosaki would be the same.

Grunting, rolling, Grimmjow gradually came to. A white flash reverted him to his human form, his clothes ripped, blood and scars abounding.

This was not the end, for the delectable Grimmjow Jeagerjaques.