Everything sodding well hurt. And, while he was occasionally prone to the odd exaggeration, this time that statement was all too accurate. Mentally tallying up his injuries – extensive kido burns, residual muscle damage from Akon’s attacks and three broken ribs (or so he’d gathered from Captain Unohana in a brief lucid moment) – Grimmjow decided that perhaps he’d stick with just opening his eyes for the moment, rather than attempting anything too strenuous.
Like, for example, getting up.
Slowly letting consciousness return, Grimmjow opened his eyes and realised that he was in considerably less pain than he should have been, a sign that the Fourth Division had done a damn fine job. Unfortunately, given that he was clearly still in the Fourth (the clean white screens, various medical implements and the motivational poster preaching avoidance of the Eleventh Division in order to prolong your un-life were all fairly strong indicators of this), he wasn’t exactly out of the woods yet. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he sat up just as Lieutenant Isane Kotetsu entered the room, clipboard in hand.