This is the last Grimmjow related thing I’m going to do before I clean my room. I promise. Tell Yourself, featuring Grimmjow, so if you know me you know what ship this is going to be.
There had been no customers at the shop for the last hour. If Ulquiorra had to guess why, it must have had something to do with the blue-haired thug sitting on the counter, mean-mugging the door. Strangely, he’d been doing this more often: he’d come into the store, buy something, then hang around, saying little to nothing. Orihime called it bonding. Ulquiorra called it an inconvenience.
Ulquiorra continued stocking the candy behind the counter, not bothering to turn around. “What is it?”
Grimmjow maneuvered the popsicle stick he’d been chewing on to the other side of his mouth. The wrapper he’d bunched up in his fist, and periodically squeezed, as if it were a stress reliever. “You’re pretty much human, right?”
“That is correct,” Ulquiorra answered.
“So when you die…”
He waited for the continuation of the question, but it never came. Grimmjow tossed the ice cream wrapper into the air, caught it, tossed it again, and held onto it. “Humans are pretty fragile, huh?”
Ulquiorra looked at him, but at that moment the shop door jingled open and seventeen-year-old Karin Kurosaki walked in, her long ponytail swishing. “There you are,” she said to Grimmjow, who glared at her petulantly. “Dinner’s ready. Yuzu sent me to look for you.”
“What am I, your kid?”
Karin grinned at him. “Yeah, my kid. Come on Grimmaru-chan! Stop bothering the nice man. He’s very busy.”
“Screw you!” Grimmjow snapped, but slid off the counter regardless. Ulquiorra watched them depart, observing how Grimmjow ruffled Karin’s hair, how she smiled as she smacked his arm away, how he practically sauntered beside her, completely altered from the slouching, silent guy he’d been minutes ago.
He sensed Urahara Kisuke’s reiatsu behind him. “I do not suppose there is anything we can do for them,” he said.
“No,” Urahara answered with a pitying smile, “you’re the lucky one.”