DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Bleach'. All rights belong to Tite Kubo. I only own this fanfiction, and any OCs that may appear. Thank you.

I Can Live With That

For some reason, it seemed like the dishes were taking a lot longer than usual to wash tonight.

It was Saturday night, and Orihime was standing in front of the sink, cleaning up after yet another evening meal. In the living room, Grimmjow was sprawled upon the couch, flicking through the channels in search of something worthwhile of his attention. So far, he'd found nothing.

Today had been especially rough. Orihime had a ton of homework to complete, half of which was still in her bedroom, untouched. She'd had a shift at the bakery before that, and then upon her arrival at home, had to start hauling out the pots and pans for dinner, lest her companion bite off her head for forgetting to at least start the meal. I'm going to be up until midnight, if not longer...it sure is a lot of work just to live.

She wasn't one to complain about working hard, but she couldn't deny that her muscles were rather on the sore side. Tomorrow was definitely going to be a lazy day. They'd just stay home and sleep, goof around. Maybe if she felt better, she'd come up with some sort of dessert for later. Perhaps she could bake something? Sure, Grimmjow was more interested in meat, but that didn't mean he couldn't handle anything else. It would just take a little while to cultivate his sweet tooth. Everybody had one. Right?

At long last, the dishes were clean. Letting out a soft sigh, Orihime wiped her hands on the dish towel and padded out of the kitchen, leaving the light on. Her attention was now focused on the shrine against the wall. She passed the male without a word, seating herself before the display. She didn't notice it, but he had sat up, turning around to watch her in contemplative silence as she relayed the events of her day to her older brother.

He'd never understood this part. Every morning and night, no matter how tired she was or if she were late or had more things to do, she'd always seat herself in front of that little memorial, and start chatting away. The morning routines were shorter, but they played out nearly the same. She'd end with a prayer and whispered words of love. It bugged him to no end.

Yeah, he knew there was something after life was extinguished. Hello, former Espada here! But he just couldn't see the use in going on and on for someone who wasn't even here anymore and, for the most part, wouldn't hear her words. It was empty to him, a waste. They did their own things, things that didn't involve the living. She should know that. There were better things one could do with their time. But he'd never open his mouth to tell her this. She'd go off to her room afterwards, or outside, and eventually his disgruntled mood would pass, so he'd drop the subject until the next day, when it all started again.

He heard her hands clap together, then a soft giggle. "Okay, Sora. I love you. Good night." She stood up, but this time instead of heading for her bedroom, she passed him once more to return to the kitchen. A small vase was in her hands. He followed her with his blue-eyed scowl, as she hummed softly, refilling the water and rearranging the flowers. He let out a scoff.

As she passed by him a third time, he just couldn't hold the words back. She bent down, to replace the vase. "He can't even hear you, ya know." She froze for a moment, before resuming her actions. This annoyed him. Turning off the TV, he stood up and walked over, now standing beside her in front of the shrine. Orihime glanced across at him, but still said nothing.

He looked down at the small, modestly decorated memorial with his lips curled into a bitter sneer. The girl stood up, wiping off stray water drops upon her uniform skirt. "I know he can, Grimmjow-san. I can't explain it, but-"

He cut her off, not with a comment but actions. Leaning down, he'd picked up the picture she'd had resting in the center. Her words stuck in her throat, as she watched him survey the photo of her elder brother with wide grey eyes.

"Feh." The face staring up at him didn't really look like the woman he was staying with. He had dark, shoulder-length hair, and was dressed in a crisp suit. He looked like a stiff. The only thing they had in common were their eyes; both were a shade of grey, though his were far darker than hers. Maybe it was the clothes he was wearing. He had to wonder, for a second, where the redhead had gotten her looks from.

"P-please..." The stuttering tones caught his attention. He looked over, eyebrow raised as Orihime gazed at him, worry evident in her eyes. One hand was reaching out, towards the frame he held in his large hand. "Please give it back."

Grimmjow looked at the photo, then at Orihime, then at the photo again, before retuning his eyes to hers. His stare narrowed. "I don't get it. You're not obligated to do any of this shit. He's not gonna do anything about it. Why do you insist on living in the past?" She looked away, arm lowering to rub at her shoulder. She was shifting where she stood, leaning on foot, then the other.

"It's not an obligation...I loved my brother. I still do. I can't-" Again, the words failed her. There were many things that she was willing to explain to him, but not this. Not this one. Maybe someday, but not now. "You wouldn't understand." She looked up at him once more. "Please...give it back."

He couldn't figure it out. Was it what she said? Did he feel like she was shutting him out? Did he think she thought he was too thick to share it with? Was he just in one of his moods? Whatever it was, he could feel his chest tightening; it was as if he were being strangled from the inside out. He hated this feeling. And she was the cause of it. His eyes flashed.

"What, you think I'm stupid? Think I don't know what's going on-that I ain't 'worthy' enough to know? Fuck that!" His outburst made her jump, as he looked down at the photo with a new sense of loathing. "He's dead. He's dead! Dead, dead, dead, fucking dead!" He whirled around, glare boring down on her. "And all of this-" he waved an arm to indicate the shrine, "-all these pretty words and whatnot, it ain't gonna change that! It ain't gonna bring him back! You keep wallowing in your misery, and you'll never move on! Wake the fuck up!" His grip was tightening around the photo, and Orihime could tell he was ticked off. What if he broke it?

"Please!" Diving forwards, her hands wrapped around the other end of the frame. "Let go! Just give it back, Grimmjow-san!" So much energy and furor, all over this? Over a face that wasn't even here anymore? He was here, but where was her reaction to that? He snapped.

"Stop living in your goddamn daydreams!" He yanked back, and that was when the photo flew from his grip. Orihime let out a gasp, grasping at the air as it fell face-down to the ground. With a loud crunch, it hit the wooden floor. Grimmjow was silent, staring as slowly, the female knelt down, a trembling hand extending to pick up the frame from the wood. As she did so, a few tiny pieces of glass clinked against the floor. She turned it over, to confirm the damage.

The glass was cracked, a few open spaces now visible. The photo underneath had been disturbed just slightly, pressing against the front with a faint crease. She held it in her shaky hands, trying to keep the emotions from flaring up and spilling over. She stood up, head hanging down. Grimmjow still said nothing, gaze taking in the fractured frame, and then her long amber locks, blocking her face from view. Looks like there was another mess to clean up. He let out a sigh. "Look, I didn't-"

"Shut up!" She rounded on him, and he had to take a step back. The energy radiating from her was almost burning in its intensity. Her grey eyes were shining with unshed tears, but the look on her face wasn't one of sadness. It was one of fury. As if she were asking without speaking, 'how dare you?' He hadn't seen a look like that on her before, not even in Hueco Mundo. Was she going to attack? Lash out? He prepared himself for a confrontation.

"Just...just don't!" Orihime turned away, running for the door. Kicking off her slippers, she shoved her feet into a pair of flats, photograph still in her hand. She opened the door and ran out, slamming it behind her. He could hear her rapid, frenzied footsteps gradually grow fainter as she made her way down the stairs. He wasn't quite sure what had just happened.

She could have hit him. She could have sic'ed her little fairies on him. She could've cussed him out-not that he could ever imagine her swearing, but it was an option, or even thrown him out into the streets. Instead, she gave him that death glare, and then took off running. From her own house. How did that make any sense?

"Sheesh..." Strolling back over to the couch, Grimmjow flopped down onto the cushions, enjoying the quiet. He'd never understand this girl. Wasn't she supposed to be all bubbly and full of sunshine and shit? Then why did she allow something like this to keep her down?

He'd seen others engaging in similar rituals, like her. He thought it was a waste of time then, and he still thought so now. But that look on Orihime's face...he'd never seen it before. For one moment, he seriously thought he was in for it. If looks could kill, he'd have been dead ten times over. It shouldn't have bugged him; he lived for rage, hatred. For confrontation.

So then, why...why did it bother him so much, to remember that expression, and the power behind her words? She hadn't said much, but she'd said enough. She'd told him off, for one. And the last bit-it was her way of blocking him out. He'd never had that happen before. He could read her like a book, front to back. But this time, he was lost. He saw the fury, saw the pain...and didn't like it.

"Damn it." He ran a hand through his blue hair. What concern was it of his if she was going to hold a grudge over an accident? He'd said his piece, she didn't like it. Big deal. People had different opinions all the time. This wasn't something he was unfamiliar with.

And yet...there was a part of him that was chiding him mentally. It wasn't telling him to apologize, or comfort her. Nothing sappy like that. It was simply telling him to reach out: reach out to this woman, who had reached out to him. Had allowed him into her life, without expecting anything in return. Reach out to her, and...listen? Was that it? It wanted him to just shut up for once, and instead of being so goddamn aggressive actually take the chance, the opportunity, to see it from her side. She may have been ditzy, but she had spine when it counted. She tried to, at least. There had to be a reason for her defiance. And why, he couldn't answer yet, but he wanted to know.

Why me? Of all the people he could've been stuck with, he had to be stuck with the subtly manipulative doe-face, with the big rack and flame colored hair, and an imagination bigger than-well, there were many things he could compare it to, none of which were very flattering. Aside from the last one, but that poked fun at himself, and he couldn't have that.

He looked towards his bed, eyes lingering on the stuffed cat beside his pillow. She'd bought that stupid thing for him, hadn't she? Standing up, he made his way over, bending down to yank it up in his hand. He surveyed it with supposed disinterest, though he turned it every which way to note every last detail. He shook his head.

I didn't even want the damn thing...yet she insisted on buying it. Gave it to me. Could've thrown it out whenever I felt like it. He began tossing it up and down in his hand like a ball, ears listening to the tiny jingles that rang out with every motion. He made his way back to the couch, sitting down and then resuming his game of catch. The fuzzy fur was soft against his palm as he continued to watch, thoughts trailing away from the actions back to the girl who had fled from her home, leaving him behind.

He had no clue as to where she could've gone. The school? A friend's house? Her work place? Granted, with his abilities, it wouldn't take him very long to track her down. But no matter what that nagging urge deep inside was trying to convince him of, he refused to act on it. She could find her own way. Besides, it was nicer having the place to himself.

Well...almost to himself.

After a few more minutes of unintentional musing, Grimmjow couldn't take it anymore. Letting out a growl, he stopped his game, and whirled around to glare at the empty shrine. He jabbed a finger in its direction. "Damn you, for having such a fucked up sister! And makin' me have'ta share her!" And before he could scold himself for the last line he leapt up, heading for the door.

He'd find her and bring her back. It was her house, after all. And if something were to happen to her...screw the Soul Society, Kurosaki would be after his ass. He knew they wouldn't let him fight at full power, so it wouldn't be much of a showdown. But he didn't look forward to the weak bruises that could be inflicted on his human form by a scrawny flesh and bone Shinigami-wannabe, anyway. Where was the honor in that?

Shoving on his shoes, he opened the door-and was instantly greeted by a blast of cold air. "Shit." It didn't chill him. But her...that dumb girl had only been wearing her uniform when she'd left, hadn't she? Why do I gotta do everything now? I ain't no responsible type!

With that, he'd made his way out and down the stairs.

She'd better not have gone too far. Otherwise, she owes me for this. Like, I dunno...sardines. Lots and lots of them, in that sauce she whips up. Yeah, that'll be a good payment. And maybe a back rub.

It was only as he was making his way around the corner that he realized he was still holding that damn cat in his hand.


The sun was just sinking under the horizon, as a cool breeze whipped among the trees and buildings. Stray leaves skipped across the sidewalks and roads, a faint metallic creaking drifting through the air.

Seated upon a swing at the local park, Orihime felt the toes of her shoes scuffing against the dirt, her gaze locked intently upon the photograph in her lap. It was getting dark, and quite chilly; if she stayed out too long, she was liable to catch a cold. She bit her lip.

How could she bring herself to go back, though? After that exit she'd made?

She wasn't angry at Grimmjow. Sure, he was hot-headed, and his words had hurt, but...he hadn't broken the picture on purpose. He'd just spoken that way because he didn't get where she was coming from. He didn't know how they'd grown up, or how she'd had to come face-to-face with her brother as none other than a Hollow. Maybe if he'd known, his thoughts would have, could have changed. Maybe. Wasn't it her job to educate him about things like this?

It wasn't like she couldn't fix the frame, either. Just a simple command, and her fairies would patch it up. No, it ran deeper than that. This pain...it wasn't from the destruction. It had a different center altogether.

She'd let things get out of control. She thought that it would be okay to push him aside, and hide behind another shroud. Big mistake there. She'd nearly wound up doing something she was certain she'd have regretted-striking out at him wouldn't have done any good. She still couldn't believe she'd actually gone so far as to yell at him. For all she knew, he was turning her place into another Los Noches. The thought should have frightened her, but not tonight. She was still trying to unstick the words in her heart, and get them not to tangle and choke in her throat.

"Oh, Sora...I must look so pathetic right now. What do I do?" The swing creaked once more.

It seemed almost impossible to consider, but the truth was, she did care for Grimmjow. She cared what happened to him. She cared about whether or not he was happy. And she cared about what he thought of her...even though she was pretty sure that by anyone else's standards, she really shouldn't have. Most people would have dismissed him as a bully, a waste of time and effort.

But for whatever reason, she couldn't. He may have been an enemy at one point, but things were different now. And no one else knew about the events they'd experienced specifically together, like how she'd given him back his arm, or how he'd saved her. She couldn't bring herself to share these things, simply because if she did, she'd have to share that lack of fear...that lack of a grudge. Her willingness to throw out a lifeline, and actually bother to get to know the man behind the mask. Or kitty, if you'd prefer. The thought made her giggle, just a little.

Even without his powers, he still could've killed her. Could've taken her out when she was at her weakest, like when she was tucked up tight in bed. He could've run, could've caused a good deal of mayhem.

Yet, he hadn't. He'd taken a step forwards, and made a go of living in this world on the other side of the spectrum. He'd bothered to put up with her, for all her quirks and odd habits. He'd allowed her to lead him, introduce him, guide him. He'd given her the time of day to show her that little part of the world she called her own. Was it because of what had happened before? Or was it something more?

"Hey! Woman!" That voice. Slicing through her thoughts like a knife, flawless in its strike. She looked up, eyes locking on the figure stomping across the park to where she sat. Even at this distance, she could make out that shock of blue hair. Her heart skipped. He couldn't have. Had he really...?

D-did he come out here...just to bring me back? As cold as it was, she felt the color sneak into her cheeks, flushing them with a warmth that spread downwards, to her chest and past her spine. She tried not to look too surprised as Grimmjow finally stood before her, one hand now resting upon the frame of the swing set. He leaned over, only to hear an audible groan from the equipment. He blinked, removing his hand to instead shove it in his pocket. In the other was none other than the cat she'd gotten him last weekend. Again, her heart jumped hard.

"How did you f-find me?" Orihime did her best to keep her voice even, but she couldn't hide the stutter that crept in, her nerves betraying her calm outer shell. She looked away, hair falling forwards over her shoulder. Grimmjow rolled his eyes, before reaching out with his cat-holding hand to yank on the ends of her long locks. She let out a whine, and the toy fell into her lap. Forced to turn her gaze to meet his, she saw that he was now pointing at his nose.

"You smell. Like a fucking garden dipped in chocolate." He smirked at the bewildered expression that crossed her face then. He was a tracker, too? He leaned in close, lips still curled up teasingly.

"Duh. Reiatsu. I may be restrained, but I can still sense something, if I put my mind to it. I ain't completely useless. You were easy for me to find." He pulled back and, after a second of deliberation, sat in the empty swing beside her. Orihime was still trying to wrap her mind around all this. Had he tracked her by scent, or energy? Was she happy he'd come looking for her? And what did he mean by 'easy to find'?

Grimmjow was shaking his head. Truth be told, it had mostly been by Reiatsu that he'd found her. Her energy was more than familiar to him. But once he'd gotten close enough, that scent had enveloped him; the smell that belonged to her, and only her. He'd thought that his comment would've come off as a rough joke, but taking in the thoughtful look on her face, it obviously hadn't worked. He gave her a push, and she let out a squeak as the swing went forwards. She had to scramble to hold onto the objects in her lap.

"Lighten up, already. You ain't in Hueco Mundo anymore." He wasn't looking at her. His gaze was trained on the rapidly darkening sky above them. Although startled by the tone of the order, she followed his eyes, taking note of the few stars that glittered upon the skyline. Drawing in a breath, she allowed her nerves to relax, as they sat together in the silence.

Eventually though, the questions were too much for her to ignore. So, she shifted slightly, to look at him from her seat. He was still looking up. "Why?"

He let out a soft snort. Just like that time, too. She was full of questions. What could he say now? "Didn't know I had to have a reason. Unless you wanted to stay lost." Now, his blue eyes were staring into her grey ones. "It's your house. You really wanna leave it to me?" Even in the shadows, his teeth gleamed as he gave her a cocky grin. She had to smile, as well.

"Well...what about Grimmy Kitty?" He blinked. What was she on now? "Say that again?"

She held up the stuffed cat. "Grimmy Kitty. Why'd you bring him, too?" Grimmjow was sorely tempted to clap his hand over her mouth, if he couldn't find another suitable gag instead. Now she'd given it a name. A cutesy name, based off of his own. What part of 'bad-ass' did she not understand?

"I don't know. I was in a rush. You bought him, anyway. He should be in your damn room, not next to my pillow." Orihime was still smiling at hearing this; for all his appearances, he still kept the gift close to him. The gift she'd gotten him. She didn't know if it was right for her to be so happy in his presence, but for once...she really couldn't have cared less. She enjoyed these feelings. That's all there was to it.

Gently, she placed the cat in his lap. "Here. He likes you better. I'm too girly for him." She giggled. Although he cast her a glance of irritation, he made no move to remove the plush toy from his space. "Whatever. You're fucking nuts, you know that? It's a bunch of cotton and thread and dye..." He couldn't believe that something as-as soft as this could honestly remind her of someone like him. Either her vision was wonky, or she was just that naïve.

Or possibly, just possibly, she was seeing something he didn't.

He looked down at the photo in her lap once more. Orihime felt a twinge of worry tug at her heart; was he going to go off again? Her hands reached up, to wrap around the chain links of the swing.

"How'd he die?" He was looking at her, no trace of smugness or sneer or even anger upon his features. It was an unreadable canvas, and it made her light-headed, seeing him like this. She swallowed hard. Should she answer?

"Well? I ain't gonna repeat myself." He didn't seem to notice that he was absentmindedly fiddling with the bell on the end of the toy's tail, as he continued staring. "You said I wouldn't understand? Try me. Gimme something to work with." It was almost like a challenge, and Orihime wasn't about to back down. She straightened up, not quite believing she was about to have this discussion with a former enemy. But then again, there were many things in life she couldn't believe. Like how big that hardware store had been. She'd had some fun trooping around with him up and down the aisles, though...

"Car accident. He was heading off t-to work." She had to pause before going on. "We'd...had a fight the day before, and I...I never told him goodbye..." Grimmjow said nothing, just watched her, taking in her words.

"H-he got confused, after he died...guess that's what I get for holding a grudge. So childish." She sniffled, holding back the tears once more. "He was a Hollow." At this, Grimmjow's eyes widened, but again he remained silent. That certainly wasn't a part of the story he'd been expecting. "It's not easy...living your life, when others didn't get to live theirs...when their life was you."

She was still gripping the chains tightly, and a gust of wind blew past, tangling in her long locks and sending them over her shoulders. Her face was smiling, but it wasn't a happy one. It was a mask, to hide the teardrops that threatened to spill over. The ex-Espada had to hand it to her, she was an expert at hiding the truth. Perhaps he hadn't been right after all when he'd said he couldn't picture her lying? So then, all those other smiles...where did they come from? He furrowed his brow.

When we're together...it doesn't look like she's faking it. All that cheerful babbling nonsense-I drown in it. He watched her brush the stray hairs behind her. So, did that mean, when she was with him...all that joy was for real? It wasn't a facade?

"But we made it through. He got his peace, and...and I got mine." She was staring at the sky again. "There are times though, when I...I can't help it, I feel...guilty. All he did for me, and I...in the end, I couldn't save him. He gave so much of himself, only to-to lose it all so soon." She shook her head. "I can only hope that I'm making him proud now, and-"

"Why?" Now he was asking the question. She looked at him. "Why what?"

"Why should you feel guilty? You didn't off him." He couldn't help it. He had to throw in his two cents. Silence didn't suit him very well, though he'd at least gone this long without interrupting. "You ain't his keeper, neither. His choices were his own, including after death. Honestly, putting that kinda weight on yourself? Pretty damn stupid, if you ask me."

He kicked at the ground with his foot. "And I ain't one for sap, but I think I can say for certain that if it bugs me to see you all fucking mopey like this, then it's gotta bug him, too. And I live for misery. You said you guys sorted it out, right? Then there's no reason for you to be pulling this guilt trip. He's fine."

Orihime was staring at him, not really sure what to make of his words. Was he...actually attempting to comfort her? Grimmjow stood up, still holding the cat in his hands. He was looking off towards the park entrance.

"If he's anything like you, then he's fine. So stop beating yourself up. You ain't supposed t'be that weak. Stand up, and get your shit done. No regrets. Then ya won't be looking back over your shoulder at the end of the day, thinking 'bout everything you didn't do." He scratched his head.

Grimmjow had no idea where all this had come from. He'd never bothered trying to give anyone advice before. Mostly, he couldn't care less. He was too busy putting the hurt on some unlucky bugger or three. But there was just something about her...if he had to make a choice between having her lit up like the sun, or as gloomy as a raincloud, he'd choose the former. At least he knew that when she was happy when she was with him, it was because of his presence. And he didn't even have to do anything special. He could cuss and yell and storm around all he wanted. She still stuck by him. He had to feel at least a little proud of that, right?

Plus, he liked the fire in her eyes. It wouldn't come out if she were sad. Not that he was going to go out of his way to make her laugh or anything like that. Maybe he might push her buttons in the future, though-in a way that didn't bring them down this path of self-loathing. He pondered this idea. He could always attempt to clean out the fridge-

"Grimmjow?" That caught his attention. No suffix. He turned around, watching her stand up with the photo clasped tightly in her hands, pressed to her chest. "Yeah?" He didn't know whether or not his words had been received well; for all he knew, she was about to go psycho on his ass with those hairpins of hers.

She gave him a smile. It wasn't sad. In fact, it was quite...bright. Filled with a different kind of fire. "Thank you." She brushed past him, her tiny hand grazing his own larger one. He felt that warmth upon his skin, as quick as the contact was. He followed her with his eyes, still not grasping exactly what she'd said. She was thankful? For him? Or his words?

Maybe both.

"Let's go home, huh? I have to return him to the shrine. And finish all my homework." She grinned nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Looks like I'm gonna be a night owl tonight, too. Want some company outside?" It took him a minute to come up with his answer.

"Feh. Do what you like. It's not my concern." He walked past her, returning the brush of hands. There was the faintest trace of a smirk on his lips, as he heard her shoes thump against the ground. She had jumped with joy, pumping her fist before going to catch up with him. "Okay! Sounds good to me!"

He looked down at the figure in step next to him, then at the stuffed toy in his hand. He turned it to the left, taking in the right side of its face. Hmm...he might look better with a jawline, actually. His smirk grew. Maybe he'd take her up on that idea of hers-though he sure as hell wasn't going to do it himself, much less procure the materials on his own. He'd seen those 'craft stores', and they were yet another place that went straight to his list of 'do not want'. Though Orihime would most likely find some way to sucker him into it...

His blue eyes darted across, to take in the bubbly figure beside him again, arms now swinging at her sides as she skipped in time with his steps. Only she could be capable of such an action. Only she could be so bold.

This was his life now. Shacked up with a Princess who was certifiably crazy. She'd gotten him hooked on her cooking, dragged him around like a pet on a leash, got him to jump after her more than once, and to top it all off had given him, of all things, a stuffed cat. Which had then been christened after him. Wonder-fucking-ful.

Grimmjow shook his head, looking ahead once more. Eh. I can live with that.

A/N: And that's it! The end of this madcap mini-series of misadventure! How was it?

Yes, I admit it: The relationship between Orihime and Sora really caught my interest. I was crying during that sequence. It was what moved me to fully become invested in 'Bleach'. As happy as the resolution was, I couldn't help imagining that when she's alone, just based on her personality...Orihime might feel a tiny speck of guilt, remembering the things that Sora had said in the midsts of his hunger. Although it wasn't her fault, she chides herself for not being able to predict or forsee such a thing. It's human nature: we try to stay in control, but life doesn't always work that way.

That's where my reasoning for this last installment came from. Orihime is both attempting to make up for the situation, while trying to move on...but that last thread still continues to linger. IDK. Is it a believable conclusion to come to?

Grimmjow, on the other hand...well, he has no idea as to her past. Nor does he know what her motives behind the prayers and devotions are based off of. It's not something he's used to: he's a fighter, where he deals w/death on a daily basis. But not the consequences. He's always the victor and destroyer. Now, he's on the other side, looking in. He sees it from the view of a victim. And it confounds him.

I'll be exploring this theme in a later oneshot on my second profile; if you like this story/the GrimmHime pairing, then please give it a read. :)

Anyways. As always, all feedback is welcomed, loved, and appreciated. Let me know if the characterizations worked, or failed. I tried my best to make it touching, while at the same time, taking into account the people we're dealing w/here. And while Grimmjow isn't one for providing comfort, if he's starting to feel something for 'Hime, well...this is how I saw it going. ^^;

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited and/or alerted this story. Your responses and commentary more than brightened my day. :D 'waves' See you later, and take care!