Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Biting The Hand That Feeds ❯ Intro ( Chapter 1 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]
I had originally had this posted on a different fanfiction site, but I got sick of it. So I'm posting it on here. Enjoy :)


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Grimmjow's P.O.V.

He had never felt this angry in his whole life. And that was saying something. Grimmjow lay there, helpless and dying. All because that bastard Nnoitra turned on him and stabbed him in the neck with his damned axe thing. He could do nothing about it, only lay there, numb from so much pain. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, but refused to close his eyes. He wasn't going to die yet. He was the king. He had things to do, people to kill. Especially Aizen. Bastard.

He promised him power, promised that he would get something out of serving him. Of course he didn't truly believe that. But he had believed that he would someday become powerful enough to overthrow both Aizen and the Soul Society. He wanted to be king of it all.

But here he was, lying in a pool of his own blood that was getting larger by the second. He spit out some of it that had come up in his mouth. It dripped down his cheek.

His hearing and vision were leaving him, but he could tell that there were some fights going on. There was no point in it anymore. Even if he lived a while longer, one of those Shinigami would kill him in this weak state anyway. He took his last breaths unwillingly, though. Oh, how he hated this. He would have given anything to get another chance. Another chance to kill all those who dared look down on him.

As he took the very last of those breaths he thought, This isn't over. I will kill Aizen for this. Somehow...



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Ulquiorra's P.O.V.

It was a rather nice feeling... dying was. It gave a sense of relief from the pain. Both physical and emotional. Ulquiorra was not scared to die. He embraced death, actually. It's not like he'd had much of a life anyway. A hollow's life consisted of three things: fight, rest, and consume souls. His comrades might have liked living like that, but he didn't. He rarely ate any souls and he didn't like fighting more than he had to. And fighting was what killed him.

At least he'd learned a few things from his sad arrancar life, one of them being the concept of a heart. He'd been taught from the moment he was created that feelings were useless; they only held you back. That they were petty human emotions. So he'd never truely experienced an emotion like love.

But strangely, he noticed how his hollow hole had slowly but surely shifted downwards to his chest. To his heart. It had been doing that ever since he began to care for the woman, Orihime Inoue.
He then noticed something else.
How was he thinking if he was dead? Also, how did he hear rain?

So I must not be dead after all, then. He thought while opening his emerald green eyes.

There was no pain from the previous injuries he had acquired in his battle with Ichigo. They were internal, and they should of killed him. So how was he alive? Ulquiorra sat up, eager to answer all the questions welling up within him. The sound of chain links clinking together could be heard. And it was attached to none other than Ulquiorra himself. Well then. I guess I am dead. But I wonder what this is attached to...

Curious, the man's eyes traveled up the chain. It led into a bed. A very frilly-looking bed at that. A bed? Why was he- wait. There was somebody sleeping in the bed. Yes, he could see the covers rising and falling which meant someone was breathing. So he got up and walked over to it silently, peeking at the head of orange hair. Long orange hair. The face belonged to the woman. Her.

What? How can this be? How am I even a soul now? And is the war over?

All these questions.

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The next chapter will be longer. I already have the first few written out so I will post them soon.