A/N: Once again, I will attempt to make a story I will ACTUALLY update. Since I plan on being a writer one day, I've gotta work on this whole 'writing something and doing what you planned to do' kind of thing. *sigh* So, yeah. I'm going to try and make this NOT suck. Arinori, I realize, is a boy's name. Whateva. It's original on my part, so...

Here we go:

Sick Little Games

.

(Well painted passion, you rightly suspect.

Impersonation, the dumbing down of love.

Jaded in anger, love underwhelms you.

No box of chocolates, whichever way you fall.

And if I tell you, lover alone without love.

What will happen, lover alone without love...

will you miss him?

Lover another without, without love.)

-Frou Frou, 'The Dumbing Down of Love'

We are Espada.

We do not love. We do not feel compassion, nor are we understanding or thoughtful. We do not have the capability. We are not built, programmed in such a way. We are not made with such fatal, human errors. We were created with the thought of muder and genocide in our heads, the intent of destroying every creature in our path modified with out DNA. We are not alive. We do not have a soul or a 'heart'.

We are hollow, inside and out.

We are initially nothing.

Dust in the wind...

.

.

Blood dripped and dribbled from the left side of Grimmjow's body, nothingness replacing what had formely been his arm. The silence that came over the Sexta was a pure mixture of hatred, rage, embarrasment, and pain. A breeze drifted like a tumbleweed from the open balcony, blowing the thin white curtain along with it. The feeling of the light wind against his open wound made Grimmjow gasp before wincing and muttering choice swears under his breath. Springs from the inside of the bed he sat upon faltered under his moving weight as he tried to turn his body away from the breeze. Something inside of his stomach fell and a feeling of weakness helped weight it down further. 'Damn Tousen...that son of a bitch...' The blue-haired arrancar slowly settled himself and let his eyes close for a moment, his right hand drifting up towards the stub that was left of his arm. With a precision that only a surgeon could have, he reached out to touch the bloody muscle and tissue and whatthehellever else was bleeding excessively.

"I thought I said not to mess with it...idiot." Bright blue eyes faced subtle green eyes in a matter of seconds, as Arinori immerged from a dark room that had once been forgotten by the world until then. Grimmjow let out a small scoff, turning his head so he didn't have to see the motherly look drowning the Novena espada's face.

Small footsteps padded on the cool tiles of Grimmjow's room toward the bed. An object was set upon the bed, springs screeching from the new placement.

"Permission to operate?" The gentle alto voice asked, a joking tone wavering in it. The Sexta refused to make eye contact.

"...yeah. Sure." With a low sigh, Arinori sat herself next to the small kit, popping it open with a loud 'click'. She examined the objects inside, pursuing a specific one. She knitted her brow in frustration, a pouty look set on her face. Grimmjow allowed himself a glance at the Novena, a cocky grin tugging at his lips. He loved it when she looked like that...

Pulling a bottle of peroxide from the kit, along with a roll of bandages, Arinori got to work. She placed a piece of bandage against the opening of the bottle, pouring the liquid onto it and gingerly placed it on the bloody area of Grimmjow's long-gone arm. A loud hiss erupted from Grimmjow, followed by a low growl of disapproval toward Arinori. The dark-haired girl rolled her eyes, mumbling a series of insults towards the Sexta.

"Can you just shut the fuck up and work on my goddamn arm?" Grimmjow spat in a rage.

"Can you stop bitching and appreciate the fact that I'm still sitting here, being an extremely amazing friend for dealing with you?" Arinori wasn't much for accosting others, but when it came to Grimmjow, she could walk through hell and back just to tell him exactly what was on her mind.

"Che. Whatever." The Sexta decided he was too tired to be an ass, so instead, he put his energy into watching as Arinori articulately worked with his raw skin and blood. He watched intently, admiring her work ethic and determination to at least get his wound cleansed and wrapped up. She worked tirelessly, fingers drenched in peroxide and crimson.

"I'm sorry...you know, about your luck. And your arm. And...all that stuff." Arinori paused in the middle of her work, tilting her head upward to stare into deep, blue eyes. Grimmjow returned the stare and relaxed his tense shoulders. Her face was an off-pale, ghostly in the moonlight that hung overhead in Hueco Mundo. The stare only lasted for a minute or two before Arinori began her dilligent work once again, now in the process of wrapping the entire stub.

Grimmjow felt a wave of nausea as he went over the whole scene in his head again, trying to forget the exact feeling that he now knew. He tried not to pinpoint the indefinite second that Tousen's blade cut through his skin and left him weak and one limb less. Something inside him twinged and the tape stopped reeling. He wasn't ready for this. He was too numb, too exhausted to remember.

Arinori gingerly finished off the last of the bandages, smiling at her own work. She placed both hands on her thighs, grinning proudly at the Sexta who seems to be in a trance.

"All finished. Good as new...um...kind of," The Novena swallowed her words, wishing she hadn't said anything in the first place. Grimmjow hadn't seem to notice her comment at all. Instead, he lazily rested his chin upon her head, right arm hooking around her, hand firmly on her upper back. He pulled the younger girl towards him, letting out a breath from deep in his chest. As he inhaled, he could smell her hair, which vaguely smelled of sand and apples. He relished it for a sweet moment, her small bodies warmth against his.

Arinori stiffened, silent as time flew by. She did not pull away or wish for it to end. She simply let him rest there, his unheard 'thank you' washing over her.

.

Yes, I know it's terrible. Review it. Tell me just how horrible it was, and I will thank you for it. :)