Written for Goldberry, because she's amazing

And because Life is PAAAAAIN.

(Or something.)

And because...well, Grimmjaw is a Beautiful Animal.

And Ulquiorra is...well, made entirely of Sex.

(I should mention that this was written in fifteen minutes, perused once for errors, and then impulsively posted with no thought to the consequences.

Or...to how non-sequitur and/or completely random and/or useless it is.

Ulquiorra isn't even in it, actually, though he is mentioned.)

So.

Yep.

Grimmjaw has a moment of introspection. Also, he's fighting Ichigo.

Internecine

Grimmjaw sees in Kurosaki Ichigo (brash, vociferous, over-confident little punk) what he has been trying to pull out of Ulquiorra since The Beginning (whenever that was –they Were Not at one point, and now they Were, and he spared as little thought as possible mulling over one versus the other, or the implications of either).

He sees raw power (at once wild and tame), absurd, enormous reiatsu, limitless potential, and – most importantly, what Ulquiorra lacks – the mindless exuberance of fighting for the sake of fighting. Though still susceptible to the interferences of niggling females (first that hapless, loud-mouthed, idiotic shinigami and now a ginger-headed, sullen, big-breasted freak of a healer), there exists in the human an insatiable thirst for challenge –sans any high-minded ideals of valor or justice—that defies reason and, doubtlessly, common sense, also.

Kurosaki Ichigo is a warrior, first and foremost, even if the damned orange peel (or strawberry, or whatever Aizen-be-damned fruit is most appropriate as a moniker for the belligerent youth) refuses to acknowledge as much, and Grimmjaw has never been more excited, more positively thrilled than this moment, facing off against someone so ridiculously, unabashedly powerful.

He can't wait to crush him.

(And he cannot wait for Ulquiorra to pull himself out of Limbo, to see the carnage he has wrought, to consider him, those perpetually somber eyes imbued with some form of nigh-indiscernible –and unquestionably, carefully dispassionate—ire, to recall –with no little amount of displeasure—that he'd stolen Aizen's blue-eyed prize, that he'd disobeyed a direct order, and that he'd thereafter expelled his superior to evanescent oblivion.

Ulquiorra will not be pleased.

And Kurosaki Ichigo's entertainment value will no longer be of note.)

Ta-dum.