It was predatory, the way Grimmjow ran his tongue over his lips and smirked. He was in a tiny, rather stuffy, closet—uncomfortable to say the least—but still finding that he was being entertained. The door was slightly ajar and he was feeling very pedophilic, but he couldn't help himself.

Yes, in the room was a half-naked child. Yes, present in the room was a child of at most age eight. But Grimmjow had his reasons.

Mainly, the reason why the Sexta Espada had suddenly become a pedophile was because in that room was a fully human Ulquiorra Cifer.

Grimmjow had not been sure how to react, when he had first arrived in the small town and seen the boy. It had mainly been proof that Ulquiorra had indeed died and had been reincarnated a while after, though by how many years, Grimmjow couldn't tell. Grimmjow wouldn't be surprised if the other Espada ended up in similar situations. He wasn't about to go looking for any of them, though.

He was the last of the original Espada—he should have been annoyed, for the Soul Society only left him because they thought he was dead—and the superior who had mocked him incessantly was right there in the room. Grimmjow resisted the urge to murder the child and finally prove to the Cuarta who had always been stronger.

The decision would be too impulsive, though, and it would ultimately lead to Ulquiorra rejoining the ranks of the few existing arrancar. Besides, Grimmjow was perfectly content where he was.

It wasn't the first time he was a hunter.

He went to that same room every night, a small seemingly insignificant part of him hoping for Ulquiorra to remember something, anything.

The little boy, meanwhile, was completely unaware and therefore at ease, pulling off his shirt carelessly.

His dark hair, which had always been messy when he had been an Espada, was even more so when he was changing clothes. He still wore it long, and a number of the ebony strands stuck out on odd ends. The absence of tear tattoos and the black number 4 tattooed on his chest disturbed Grimmjow considerably. The fact that no Hollow mask or hole was present was also perturbing.

The child's pale skin glinted in the barely-present moonlight as he dug around a drawer for his pajamas.

The room was dark, and all was quiet.

Skinny arms and legs, a tiny frame, Grimmjow noticed that Ulquiorra still looked the same, no matter how young. He wasn't at all muscular, like he had been as a Hollow. He kept his eyes firmly trained on the boy's face.

Grimmjow bet he could kill this new human Ulquiorra within seconds. The thought made him sneer, and he shifted a little to try and make himself more comfortable.

Emerald-green eyes immediately snapped toward the closet. The boy's back stiffened. Ulquiorra could have sworn he heard some rustling noise, small as it was. Knowing better than to be overly suspicious, he squinted at the slight crack in the door, wondering why it seemed like there was blue present there. There couldn't be a spirit in his closet.

It wouldn't make sense, though, for that to happen. No ghost in its right mind would sit in a closet and wait for him. At the same time, though, Ulquiorra's eyes would not leave that one spot inside his closet, where it felt like he was being watched. Ulquiorra shivered.

Grimmjow frowned as he noticed Ulquiorra's large child eyes were staring directly into his own, not completely unaware but still causing discomfiture. It was nerve-wracking.

The large shirt, loose and slipping off the child's shoulder, was buttoned hastily. His eyes never left the same spot in the closet, as if hoping that the possibly nonexistent figure would suddenly take a form. Curiosity was eating away at him, so, moving quickly, Ulquiorra pulled his closet door open.

Long ago he had found that monsters did not exist. The ghosts of dead humans, on the other hand, did. He wasn't sure when he had started to sense them, but for as long as he could remember, he'd seen people who had died.

Ulquiorra blinked, unsure of what to process. It was faint, but he could see blue eyes. They pierced through him, causing most likely unintentional discomfort. Grimmjow stared at the boy, wondering whether he was fully visible.

A soft whisper managed to escape the child's throat. "Are you—"

Grimmjow used his sonido and disappeared quickly, not ready to explain why he was watching a child, a fucking baby, change his clothes. Ulquiorra blinked again, pulling up one of the sleeves falling off his shoulders.

It had been weak, but he was sure a spirit had been in his closet. His eyes had seemed so familiar. . .

Short, but I don't know what else to write, 'cuz I'm not a pedophile. XD I'm actually working on a full-length story with this type of plot, but there's no real anything to it right now. *sighs* I hope you liked this. ^^