This is... not the update I'm supposed to be uploading? Erm. And there's really nothing that someone haven't already done, I'm sure. But it just poured out of me and won't stop, so here it is.

GrimmIchi if you squint and my Grimmjow is a surprising sap.

T for language.

He wonders why it had never bothered him before. And then wonders again why it does now when it's already too late.

His life was a path of single minded purposes. Survive. Become stronger. Become an Espada. Beat Kurosaki. And then that last one again and again, like a festering wound, gnawing at him, eating him from inside out.

That kid is infuriating, and he always managed to make Grimmjow's blood boil like not even Ulquiorra ever will.

It's his obnoxious orange hair, though Grimmjow supposes he's really got no room to talk about outrageous hair colors. It's his single minded determination to protect, to fight, to become stronger, and the fact that they are so similar, that Sexta sometimes sees the gleam of his own insanity in those narrowed brown eyes. And most of all, it's that this arrogant human brat makes Grimmjow feel alive where nothing ever had.

Him. The dead, a spirit, a specter. A hollow being that's not supposed to want anything but to consume those around him. And Kurosaki makes him want. Makes him doubt everything that was previously set in stone, makes his goals waver, his priorities shift.

He was never very loyal to Aizen, nor was he obedient. The man came to them with fake smiles painted on his face, erecting that fake sky over their heads. He promised endless glory and just as endless supply of souls to consume. He promised a new world for hollows to roam free and no threat of shinigami. He gave them new form and new purpose. Something like the life, they forgot they've ever had.

But he was a shinigami and while demanding loyalty without questions, was loyal to no one but himself. It never bothered Grimmjow, though. This was a hollow world after all, its main rule – eat or be eaten, and Aizen fit here perfectly as a predator he is.

And then came Kurosaki Ichigo and brought with him a taste of something that was startlingly similar to freedom that Aizen so easily promised, but never actually gave.

He wanted that taste. Wanted to feel it on his tongue, to sink his teeth inside and drink until the light went out in that soul splitting gaze. And yet when that actually happened all he felt was an all consuming fury.

How dare Kurosaki die by someone else's hand? It was Grimmjow's privilege and his alone to tear a hole through his chest. Ulquiorra would pay for taking what did not belong to him, but first he needed to get back what was taken and that was exactly what he had done.

Only to have it bite him in the ass harder than ever.

So now he lies in the cradle of the gritty sand that burns his wounds and crunches on his teeth, asking himself questions that would probably never be answered.

And it's all Kurosaki's fault. If he had just killed the brat that first time around, none of this would be happening. He would still be happily slicing through shinigami in Aizen's name, aiding the goal he knows nothing about. Not seeking answers for something that never even bothered him before.

He feels the last vestiges of life seep from his wounds and thinks that he's actually hoping that Kurosaki would win this war. The black is creeping to the edges of his vision and he knows that he probably will.

Because he's the life. The fire. And all that is worth fighting for.

Because he can make hollows feel human and someone with that kind of ability will undoubtedly tear through anything that stands in his way.

And it's almost ironic that a hollow spirit Grimmjow Jeaguerjaques feels the most alive on the verge of his death. But then again that's all Kurosaki's doing, so he should not be surprised that much.

The black has eaten through almost everything now and it's actually a nice contrast to the stark white that Aizen has drowned them in. Black is a shinigami color, but in Grimmjow's mind it belongs to Kurosaki and for some reason that's a comforting thought.

Fatigue is taking over, the remaining tiny bit of his vision becomes blurry, leaving him blind.

This is the end, Grimmjow thinks. And the last thing he sees is an eerie orange glow.

And a calloused hand is gripping his bloody fingers.

Phew. Not sure what brought this on. But it's hopeful, right? Please tell me what you think.