4: A Strange Place For a New Friend

"I told you, I can't eat this!" Yumichika slammed his fists down on either side of his tray. The squad member on kitchen duty didn't flinch, but answered in a robotic tone:

"This is the morning meal. You have received your portion as prescribed by the Captain."

"But I can't eat it!" Tears came to his eyes, which only made the nausea worse. "I can't eat natto! The smell is making me sick! I'm ready to hurl just looking at it! Don't make me make your cafeteria unsanitary!" His stomach turned thinking about it, and he gagged, doubling over.

He was nine weeks pregnant, and woke a few mornings ago to discover he'd developed food aversions. As if the nausea and daily vomiting weren't bad enough already, anything salty or pickled or with a strong scent made him feel sick to his stomach. The Twelfth's stringent diet restrictions didn't make any allowance for it, as the kitchen squad member expounded, unimpressed, "Theatrics will not change Division rules. You're making a scene, Temporary Officer Ayasegawa."

That really irked Yumichika. They all made it abundantly clear that even if he was officially their Third Seat, they all looked at him as a test subject, and granted him about the same amount of respect. If he started to get angry, he got shut down, and if he started to cry, he was quickly shunned until he got himself under control. He couldn't count the number of times he'd broken down crying- completely beyond his control!- and he looked up to find that anyone who had been near him had walked away or stood back to wait for him to calm down. Nobody offered him a hand or a tissue, or even asked if he was alright. "Hint" of extra care, indeed. Not like he wanted help, no, he was a man, he could handle himself, but a little compassion would be nice! A back rub, a tissue, an "Are you alright?" would have been all he needed. (He wanted more, of course, but the person he wanted it from was a whole division away and gone from his life forever.) Even here, just an ounce of respect would go a long way. "You," he panted, "you wouldn't treat your normal Third Seat like this."

"Officer Akon helped write the rules. You're holding up the line."

"Excuse me," interjected a new voice, and a welcome one. Yumichika looked up to see Nemu had approached. "You are aware of Officer Ayasegawa's medical condition, and an inability to consume certain foods is an unfortunate symptom thereof. As your commanding officer, I request- ah, order you to serve him a portion that he can stomach." She stood tall, her shoulders back, and Yumichika had never wanted to hug a woman so badly in his life. The kitchen duty officer blanched and took Yumichika's tray. With the awful natto out of his face, Yumichika regained his composure, albeit slowly.

"You're a lifesaver, Lieutenant."

"It's what's necessary." Nemu dodged his gaze as he stood upright. "The experiment is at risk if you're unable to properly nourish yourself."

"Oh." He shrugged, but smiled knowingly. "And here I thought you were taking pity on me." Nemu squeaked, but pursed her lips.

"It's just what I have to do," she repeated. "I should, er-"

"Did you want to eat with me?" Yumichika caught her sleeve and glanced around pointedly. "Seems like everyone just sort of sits alone here, not even looking at each other or talking unless they're on some project together, and I don't see where you normally sit."

"I eat with the Captain," she answered automatically. Yumichika noticed she did that more often than not- instead of carrying the conversation, she gave direct answers to questions asked or unasked, like a dog trained to heel.

"Well," Yumichika continued, nervous energy gathering in his throat, "I'm used to sitting with someone. My partner and I would sit and just chat about, you know, this and that. I kind of miss it." His tray arrived, natto-free but with an extra omelet, and he picked it up. "But if you'd rather eat with Captain Kurotsuchi, that's your prerogative." He turned to walk away, but she started to stammer, which stopped him.

"My p-prerogative."

"Sure." He shrugged again. "You've got free will. Captain can't kill you for everything you do wrong, right?"

She stared at him, bug-eyed, as if she'd never thought of it that way. She quickly cleared her throat and laced her fingers together. "If socializing is necessary for your mental health, I will provide."

That sounded like as much of a "sure, I'll sit with you" as he was going to get. She took her tray and the two of them seated in an empty spot, and Yumichika quickly found an abandoned newspaper. "So, uh, I haven't been outside of the Division in a while, any news on the SWA's soccer tourney this year?"

"Oh, er..." Nemu began mumbling about Lieutenant Ise and Lieutenant Kusajishi's dueling plans, and Yumichika broke up his omelet into his rice. She was quieter than Ikkaku, or anyone in the Eleventh, but it still helped.

The sensation of wanting to cry had been with him for weeks, and having someone else's thoughts running through his head blocked it out.


The changes that came with pregnancy weren't easy on Yumichika. He was still rejecting meals most mornings, and his mood wasn't improving. Worst of all, he could see and feel the change. It got his attention around ten weeks after conception, bent over his toilet and hugging his middle as he tried to regain his composure. His hands pressed over his midsection, where the happy little knot of reiatsu still pulsed and grabbed at his, and he pulsed a little reiatsu back to it.

It was then that he noticed that his middle was no longer perfectly flat and taut with muscle. There was a small swell pressing out just above his navel, still firm, but protruding. Yumichika wrinkled his nose. "Oh, really?" He sighed, though he'd known it was coming. He was almost excited about it, really- the curves of an expecting mother were beautiful, like the shape of a fine, hand-blown vase, but this just looked like he'd eaten a little too much. Not even worth changing his clothes for! "It's like that awkward spot when you're growing out your hair, but it's not as long as the style you want and too long to do the style you have right now!" He gave the tiny swell another rub. "I wonder what you look like now." He couldn't stop the affectionate little smile that followed the words, nor the little tears that chased it.

His hunger was getting worse, and his mood with it. Since nobody else in the Twelfth Division gave him a second glance, no matter what he did, he only had one good spot to aim his rage. He could at least get a rise out of Captain Kurotsuchi, and he took every opportunity he had to needle him. His eleventh-week check, for example.

"You know, for all your 'perfect diet' and regimentation," he groused as Kurotsuchi checked his blood pressure, "your squad's lifeless as warriors."

"We're not warriors. We're scientists!" He chided and clucked at Yumichika a few times, and pulled the strap off his arm. "And there's no such thing as perfect, you soft-brained ninny. It's an experimental program, and results thus far are pleasing." He smirked broadly. "Of course, it's better than the time I deliberately sabotaged their diet but told them it was an ideal daily set."

"A placebo effect," Nemu explained, unnecessarily, and Kurotsuchi rolled his eyes.

"It's not a placebo! It's misdirection. Stupid girl!" He sneered at Nemu, who didn't even react, and he scoffed and picked up his notebook. "But I change the diet up whenever I feel like it." He slid across the room, and Nemu squeaked as he deliberately stepped on her toe. Yumichika wanted to say something, but he just kept reminding himself- he's already doing you a favor, and he doesn't have moral boundaries.

"Just make sure I get enough." Yumichika's eyes dropped back to the ceiling when Kurotsuchi turned the ultrasound on, and Nemu didn't miss the way his expression clouded over. The paper rustled as he settled, but he put on a strange, out-of-place smile and tipped his gaze up to her. "Hey, you'll tell me if it's got three legs, right? I'll have to put extra holes in all the diapers."

Kurotsuchi scoffed, but Nemu giggled. This resulted in a glower from Kurotsuchi, even as he spread the contact gel over Yumichika's belly and ran the wand over it a few times. "Nemu, if you can behave like an adult." Nemu gasped softly, but tiptoed over the wires to peer down at the screen. Yumichika screwed his eyes shut and settled further into the cold vinyl cushion, ignoring the indistinct whispers between the two scientists.

He cleaned himself off, redressed, and was released to afternoon duties (monotonous paperwork that wasn't interesting enough for anyone else in the division) and tried not to think about what he wasn't allowed to see, until there was a faint voice behind him: "Third Seat Ayasegawa!"

Nemu had chased him, so Yumichika gave her the courtesy of halting so she didn't have to catch up to a moving target. She took a few stumbled steps as she did catch him, dusting the bottom of her kimono with her fingers as she did, and furtively searching around the field around them with wide eyes. "Third Seat Ayasegawa- I'm not supposed to, the Captain- but you should know, everything is progressing exactly as it should."

"Oh." That was a nice surprise.

"Yes." She stiffened, and tented her fingers as her gaze fell down and away to the packed dirt under their feet. "No third leg."

Yumichika chuckled, and patted her shoulder. "You're sweet, Lieutenant. Thanks for telling me." She smiled shakily, stumbling again though her feet were flat on the ground. "Y'know, it's kinda hard to believe you're, uh, related to the Captain."

"Oh, er..." She fidgeted with the bottom of her skirt, but when he began to walk again, she unthinkingly followed. "I suppose it's a matter of nature against nurture..."

"If I had to guess, you weren't nurtured much at all." Yumichika shook his head, and held the office door open for her. "I mean, it's obvious you got his smarts."

"Oh." She sounded somehow disappointed, and her face fell as she passed him by. "Do you think?"

"Sure. When he lets you talk, you know what you're talking about." Yumichika closed the door, as Nemu surveyed the work waiting for her. Her desk was piled high with research results in need of compilation already, and she whimpered a bit as she sat down to her stack and tucked her hair behind her ears. Yumichika had a box on a side table with his name on it, haphazardly strewn with supply orders and special requisitions. This was what he got instead of duty in the World of the Living- everyone else's busy work. He moaned a bit and took the papers up. "Meanwhile, I'm best on the battlefield, but here and even in the Eleventh, I get the lion's share of the paperwork. At least there, it's because I'm the only one with the brains for it. Y'know, any brains at all." He pulled chair up to one of the few empty spaces, on the table, shoved what he hoped was a molding rice ball and not someone's science experiment into the trash, and shuffled the papers into a neat pile. "Here, I'm the only one too stupid to do anything else." He smiled back at her over his shoulder. "You're brilliant."

"Oh," she repeated, frailly, and spread some of her papers out. "I... I don't think you're stupid. And I'm not so smart. The Captain lets me help, but I know he saves his best projects for solo work."

"Oh, honey. It's as bad as it looks, huh?" He sighed. He'd seen her get kicked and cuffed and stepped on more times than he could stand. "Has he really beat you down that much? You're his blood, calling you stupid is like calling himself stupid!" She chewed her lower lip and ducked down into her work. He surveyed her a moment longer. "Plus, you're, at the very least, quite pretty. He's not beautiful at all." He turned his nose up with a wise smirk as her head whipped back around. "Yeah, you put a little effort in, and I'd say you'd be able to be 75% as beautiful as I am."

"I... I... well..." Her round cheeks flushed bright pink. "Thank... you...?"

"Don't mention it." He winked over his shoulder and flipped through his papers with panache. "Why, how about you come visit me some nights? I'll show you how to do makeup."

"You... would...?" Her voice shrank with each word, and he crossed one leg confidently over the other.

"I'm a man of my word, Lieutenant." He meant it as much as he did anything else. Nemu had more natural beauty than Rangiku, and he missed idle days spent sitting with her, trading barbs and beauty tips and painting each other up like china dolls. Maybe he just missed having someone, anyone to talk to.

Besides, he felt a sort of kinship with her. Nemu had spent her whole life here, under Kurotsuchi's thumb. Maybe she was just as lonely as he was.


Nemu did come and sit with him some evenings, when she wasn't recuperating from a round of "experimentation" with the Captain, and he did experiment on her body more days than he didn't. At least, he thought uncharitably, it meant he was spared for the moment. His belly was getting bigger, little by little, but at twelve weeks, it only showed through his clothes if he was searching for it or if he tied his sash too tight around the hips, so he wasn't too embarrassed to visit the shops near the Division HQ building to get makeup in her colors and accessories for her long hair. She didn't volunteer anything about whatever studies she and the Captain were performing on him, and he knew she wouldn't and didn't ask, but she was content to discuss any study that she was doing otherwise.

"My pet project- oh, oh dear-" She winced as he leaned forward, mascara in hand, and he chuckled.

"I won't get your eye, I promise. I haven't yet, have I?" She cringed whenever things got too close to her face. It made Yumichika want to punch Kurotsuchi, Captain-with-something-over-his-head or no.

"N-no." She gulped, closed her eyes, and went on, "It's about back difficulties. Many older shinigami have complaints about back problems due to the strain of carrying their zanpakuto on their persons at all times, and many women with larger breasts have similar complaints." Yumichika hummed, because god, how many times had Rangiku bitched to him about how sore her lower back was after a long day ignoring Captain Hitsugaya with her feet on her desk? Nemu turned her cheek as Yumichika rubbed some blush onto a cotton swab and then onto her in a gentle crescent. "I've taken on a study of how people walk and carry their swords, triangulated by their bodily proportions, and compared it to where their pressure points form."

"Oh, and you're going to find some way to help people with their back problems?"

"No. I'm just studying for patterns." Nemu's lips curved up into a secretive little smile, and Yumichika rolled his eyes behind her back. "It's fascinating work. At first, I got volunteers to show me where they were sore, and I would take their measurements, weight, height, girth, et cetera, and those of their swords, study how they walked, and make calculations from there. Now, I don't need someone's permission." She giggled a little as Yumichika brushed her foundation down her chin and neck to even it out. "Oh, is that necessary?"

"Foundation's good, but not when someone can tell you're wearing it. If you don't smooth it out, it looks like someone's pasted a different face onto your body." He chuckled, and adjusted his position. His back was getting sore too, but before he could stretch, her words caught on and he leaned right in. "Wait, what do you mean, 'don't need permission?'"

"I can check their vital statistics, height and weight at least, from their medical files. I took a few weeks once and memorized those of all the seated officers." She took a palm-sized sketchbook from inside her kosode. "And if I sit on a bench near where everyone goes, like the main filing office, the commissary, or the mail room, I can study them and calculate their measurements based on the angles and trajectory of their arms and legs as they walk." Nemu flipped through a few pages, showing sketches of familiar folks in profile- Kira Izuru, for one, and Tetsuzaemon Iba on another- marked with measurements at the bends of their knees and elbows, the length of their stride, and arrows noting where pressure points might form. Yumichika could picture her cozied up on a bench with her little book, a pencil, and a protractor, whiling away the afternoon watching shinigami walk back and forth in front of her. Moreover:

"Hey, those're pretty realistic. Looks just like Kira, there." Yumichika beamed, tapping the picture. "If I didn't know better, I'd say I was looking at the real thing, just in black and white!" He flipped a few more pages over. Nemu's life drawings were spot on. Nemu just blushed.

"Yes, it's merely a matter of recreating what one sees."

"Please, I can hardly draw stick figures. Kuchiki, in the Thirteenth, she can only draw bunny rabbits and penguins. You're good."

"The art's not important, the accuracy is. I... I admit I've been sketching you too." She flipped to the back of the book, where there were a few sketches of him. "As you gain weight, the pressure points will change, so I wanted to study your posture."

"Oh!" Yumichika clapped his hand to his mouth. "Why, Nemu, you've captured my beauty almost exactly!" Nemu flushed again and clapped her book shut.

"Ah... but... it's only a silly hobby."

"Everyone needs a hobby." Yumichika picked up his hand mirror. "It's the little things you can do, that make you happy. You can draw people with stunning accuracy. I make people beautiful." He held the mirror over her shoulder, and she smiled softly, radiating gentle warmth through the makeup.

"I... I do look nice." She turned around, and her shoulders trembled for a moment, hands inching off the cushion, then planting right back down. She so clearly wanted to hug him, but just didn't know how. He chuckled a bit and patted her shoulder.

"Beautiful. I'll teach you to do it yourself. Quick basics that you can do before squad duty or patrols. I've had to cut back on my usual regimen, but I've figured out what I can do quickest and still look my best." He ran his fingers down her arm to her hand. "Would you like a manicure, or should I start taking it off?"

"Oh, no, I work with too many solvents." She brushed him off and picked up the makeup remover from his kit. "It's late, too. I'm afraid we should call it a night."

"Oh, yeah." Yumichika glanced at the clock- the time had flown. She used his mirror and a few cotton balls to clean her face, and he flipped a few pages in her book, but stopped at a familiar face. "Ikkaku?" He opened the book wide, flipping through her few sketches of him.

That face! That smirk! She'd captured his swagger precisely! He was as beautiful on paper as he was in life.

"Oh, yes," said Nemu, nonchalantly. "He carries his pressure in his shoulders and around the collarbone, but it's never been terrible."

"He asked me to rub his neck and shoulders sometimes." Yumichika's smile shook. "It's... so strange... seeing him like this, I know it's only a drawing, but..." He sniffled, and tasted his tears around the corners of his lips. "Oh..."

"Yumichika?" She put the mirror down and grabbed his hand. "You may be experiencing intense emotions due to your hormone changes. Please do not hesitate to cry, nor attempt to hold back. Nobody in this room begrudges you."

The floodgates opened for a moment, Yumichika sobbing down into his sleeve. All he could feel was overwhelming despair, and her crushing grip on him. The rush of emotions passed, and Nemu released his hand as he choked back his last few sobs, but his voice still wavered around the lump in his throat, "I'm sorry you had to watch that."

"It's part of your condition. There's nothing wrong with it. I'll leave you to your rest." She reached for her notebook, but he turned the pages with Ikkaku over one last time, then spotted an odd, oblong shape on the page after his, and she gasped. "Ah-!"

"Nemu?" Yumichika held the page up with a frown, because there was something familiar about it. "What is this?"

"Ah... another hobby." Her cheeks were bright pink from more than rubbing her foundation off. Yumichika raised an eyebrow.

"What sort of hobby?"

"Ah-" She tried to stop herself, but the answer came without further thought: "I discovered that by extrapolating a man's known height and weight, the angles at which he walks, and of his posture, I can determine the exact size and shape of his phallus. I've been correct with only 5% margins of error on the specimens whom I've checked." She bit her lip silent as Yumichika studied the dick drawn on the page and the measurements she'd noted down next to it. "I... have not personally checked him. How accurate?"

"Honey, he's rocking another quarter-inch of girth down near the base, and you're being a little conservative on length, too." He winked and shut the book, and Nemu smiled, pleased.

"That is within the margin of error." She closed up her notebook and bowed from the top of her back. "Thank you, thank you!"

"No, thank you." He saw her out and closed the door to his little cell again. Hardly eleven at night, but he was so tired. He fell back onto his bed again, his hand fell over the swell of his middle, and he hardly had energy to kill the light.

He wondered where Ikkaku was now. Probably out drinking with the others, happy, walking with the same swagger with which Nemu had sketched him. Even the stars and moon outside would be prettier reflecting off of his head. And yet, did Ikkaku miss him at all?

He was a little less lonely, but thinking of him elsewhere, happy without him, burned.

"I guess it's not as bad as the alternative." He ran his hand down over his middle again. The round part felt nice under his palm, warm and smooth and heavy, and he tried not to think about him as he drifted off to sleep.


Ikkaku wished he belonged at Lieutenant's meetings. As it was, he went as Yachiru's escort so that Kenpachi would be able to focus during the coinciding Captain's meeting. Most of the time, it was alright, he'd space out through the actual hard work until someone started giving Yachiru instructions, and he would then take whatever they were giving to her and try to remember to do it for her later. The social was actually kind of fun: he'd sip some punch with Renji and give him grief over not making Captain yet, chat up Izuru or Hisagi for a little bit, and get dragged around by Yachiru as she made chatter with the female lieutenants and sampled every different shape of anzu-filled cookie to make absolutely sure they were all the same flavor.

Not today. It had been more than three months since he'd even seen Yumichika, and without the little bit of encouragement from him, "You have fun with Yachiru!," it was a lot harder to shuffle along at her side. So, after listlessly staring at the wall through the boring meeting, he was left alone when Yachiru broke off from him to yammer to Nanao about soccer tournaments and charity calendars, and he made himself wall dressing.

The lone loser Third Seat in the room, surrounded by people deemed better than him for no good reason, all so casually happy... kind of made him sick. He'd been feeling kind of weird anyway, for a few weeks now, so he shouldn't have been so surprised that being out by himself was kind of grating on him. Sure, he could still go to bars with the guys at night, and he still worked hard at squad duty and on patrol, but- and this was the best way he could put it- he felt like there was a hole in everything, and all the good things that came to him drained right out. This meeting was no different. He crossed his arms and kicked his foot up onto the wall, and tried to ignore everything.

"Oh, Officer Madarame."

He jumped, because he hadn't expected that voice. "L-Lieutenant Kurotsuchi!" He stood stark straight as Nemu blinked curiously at him.

"Ah. Er. I should have thought to expect you. You... you come with Lieutenant Kusajishi, every time." She tented her fingers near her lips, and Ikkaku felt a twinge of discomfort as her eyes settled near his middle. "I, ah, don't know if we've spoken before, but..."

Ikkaku felt his ears turn red. Talking with the Twelfth's Lieutenant was never on his agenda, and that it was happening now wasn't helping his mood. This was already just about the weirdest, most unlikely conversation he'd ever had, and that she was trying so hard to have it made the punch in his stomach boil.

"Can I help you, Lieutenant?" He crossed his arms again, turning his face and glaring at the opposite wall. Sure, he should have been a little more cautious at being less than respectful to someone known to be in a division that will experiment on any specimen, willing or no, and the clone of the lead experimenter, at that, but he just couldn't really care all that much right now. Nemu, to her credit, took the disrespect as easily as anything else.

"Er, I was wondering how you've been lately. Officer Ayasegawa wonders."

Ikkaku felt that hole in him chip a little wider, and he dropped his arms. "Yu... Officer Ayasegawa... asked you to check on me." Nemu nodded furiously, her cheeks turning pink. "Uh. Tell him I've been okay."

"I will." She started to turn, but he instinctively grabbed the collar of her kosode before she could.

"Hey, uh," he paused, because he was manhandling a woman who outranked him, and oh boy, could this be a bad idea, but her wide eyes and blush spoke of surprise, not anger. "Yumichika, has he been okay? Ain't he allowed to come out? I ain't seen him."

"Ah..." Nemu touched his hand, and he let go of her. "Officer Ayasegawa... has been incredibly busy... and very tired. He is doing the best he can, given the situation." Her gaze dodged his, and she twiddled her fingers in front of her face again. "But his health has been fine." Ikkaku blinked, and looked at her. Really looked at her, for the first time.

"Lieutenant, since when did you wear makeup?"

"Oh, ah!" She touched her face, as if she'd forgotten it was there. "Yumichi... Officer Ayasegawa..."

"He must be okay, then." Ikkaku smiled, relieved, and his shoulders sank back. "Here I was worried you all'd be cutting him open. No offense, or anything-"

"- none taken-"

"But if he's feeling up to doin' your makeup for ya, then he's gotta be okay!" He found his heels bouncing of their own accord. "Lucky guy's escaped the knife!"

He hadn't even thought of it like that before. But knowing Yumichika was alright, it just made him feel so damn good he couldn't hold it down. Nemu didn't seem at all fazed by it, instead taking a cup of punch from the table beside them. "I'll be sure to let him know you're in high spirits."

"Huh? Oh. Oh, yeah." And just like that, he deflated again, reminded that he still wouldn't see him for a while. Nemu considered him, her head slowly cocking as her cogs turned.

"Officer Madarame, you're lying to me."

"What?" Bad sign. He had no idea what his tell was, but being caught in a lie by a superior officer was a direct path to trouble. "Uh, no, ma'am-"

"When you said you were okay. That was a lie. It's not an admission of weakness, Officer Madarame." Lieutenant Kurotsuchi tapped her lower lip, then turned her shoulder to lean on the wall next to him. "He does miss you, too. It's an excellent demonstration of a phenomenon I've observed in souls that are coupled for long periods of time." She swirled the liquid in her cup, and Ikkaku thumped his back onto the wall again and tried to look disinterested at the long-emptied meeting table.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes." She nodded, imperceptive of his disinterest. "Reiatsu is fluid, so those closely bound by friendship or affection will find that their souls meld into one another. It is perhaps easiest observed in Captains Kyoraku and Ukitake, bound for centuries, and you may find they only seem complete at one another's sides. Each one has an innate understanding of the other's soul that only comes from a lifetime spent together, to the point where they almost are two halves of a whole. You do not feel whole, Officer Madarame. The absence of your partner may be causing you some distress."

"Huh." Ikkaku frowned, but couldn't contradict her. He didn't know about any of that reiatsu science stuff, only that he felt like something had been broken off of him. She might've had a point. "So, you think that maybe without Yumichika, I'm just gonna keep feeling like crap."

"In the most basic terms, that's the hypothesis." Her eyes widened a bit. "Officer Madarame, would you be offended were I to test this hypothesis directly?" She whipped out a little notebook. "I would keep tabs on your reiatsu levels, as well as your abilities-"

"You already got one guinea pig outta my squad, Lieutenant." Ikkaku's ears were burning again. "I ain't interested." He kicked off the wall and into the crowd to find Yachiru, unsettled and ignoring an itch in his neck as her eyes followed him in. Nemu pursed her lips, then sighed and slouched down.

She wanted to apologize, but she wasn't sure entirely why. She resolved to examine the emotion later. Perhaps Yumichika would have a little more insight, if not to the same gaps in the fabric of his soul, then maybe to this... this...

Guilt.