Felis Domesticus
A/N: From all the gushing reviews I received, I'm proud to announce that you are all sick fangirls like me… Let's be friends! XD
2
Surprisingly, Grimmjow learned an important concept barely ten seconds after being literally tossed into the human world.
Cats always landed right-side up. Always.
He couldn't describe how he did it. One moment he was flailing through the air, the next, landing with a jarring thump on top a shingled roof, miraculously on all fours. He was quite relieved that he wasn't injured, or worse, dead – which Ulquiorra most likely intended. The bastard.
Thoughts of Ulquiorra quickly lead to thoughts of an even bigger bastard: Aizen Sousuke. Grimmjow growled and furiously clawed at the roof, cursing Aizen in the foulest way he could think of. He felt bitter, resentful, and murderous, the negative emotions swirling within his mind and clouding his judgment. Everything was so wrong! This was the most outrageous punishment anyone could have received and completely unforeseen. There wasn't any sort of warning or mercy, just a swift blow to shatter him. It wasn't fair, damnit! Grimmjow tore into the shingles with the force of all his frustrations in every scratch or bite, thoroughly abusing the innocent roof. He had to unleash the rage building within him somehow.
Tucked deep in the back of his mind however, Grimmjow knew this was the perfect punishment. For him to be trapped defenseless in the body of a house cat was severely demeaning. He was utterly humiliated, certainly a joke now in Hueco Mundo when word leaked out. Demoted to barely a fraction of what it was before, his image was now soft, cuddly, and cute – the companion of underage schoolgirls or mentally unstable frail old ladies. Whatever was left of his unconquerable pride had since committed suicide. Aizen truly had the last laugh.
Grimmjow huffed, glaring maliciously at a mangled corner of a shingle. Against his will, helplessness welled within him. The once foreign emotion was worse than anything he had ever experienced. Worse than pain, worse than hunger for souls, worse than even getting his ass kicked by filthy Shinigami. A Hollow simply didn't feel helpless; they die facing death, still reaching out for their prey. It was quite a change to suddenly be degraded to an animal that filthy humans kept as pets. The most obstinate parts of Grimmjow were still in denial. This all had to be either a real shitty dream or a real shitty prank that only a bastard like Aizen could execute flawlessly.
When the jagged edges of the shingle began hurting his gums, Grimmjow finally lifted his head and examined his surroundings. He had landed in a modern town, the two-story houses lined up in neat rows and the small streets mostly empty and clean. From the position of the bright spring sun, the time was around mid-afternoon. The happy chirps of birds mingled with the distant noises of car engines; a warm breeze whispered across Grimmjow's fur, even the very smell on the air was of life and a new beginning. It was indeed a far cry from the dead, treacherous, and desolate desert of Las Noches. Grimmjow hated spring. It also bothered him how familiar the town looked, almost as if he had been there before.
Stepping close to the edge of the roof, Grimmjow peered over and judged the distance from the roof to the ground. He was two stories high, but if he used the drainpipe and his own momentum, it was possible for him to jump to the ground. Coiling his entire feline body like a spring, he leapt onto the drainpipe, then pushed himself off, following a zigzag pattern across the wall of the house until his feet landed gracefully onto the concrete sidewalk. Immediately, he raised his head and scanned his surroundings warily, trying to discern any danger now that he was at a lower ground. When he didn't sense any, he proceeded to move forward.
Once again, Grimmjow found himself overwhelmed by how disproportionally larger everything was. However, walking on all fours again reminded him of the time when he was still a Menos: an Adjuchas-class Hollow retaining the shape of a panther. Hueco Mundo seemed much bigger back then, living in a kill or be killed world of the Menos Forest, relishing in the adrenaline rush before an attack. He supposed ever since he became an Arrancar and started living in Las Noches, he had grown lazy. The Hollows of Menos Forest were no longer formidable foes, but flies that could easily be swatted down. Now that he was once again removed from the top of the food chain, he could feel his old survival instincts return. Granted the human world was far less harsh than the Menos Forest, but he would still require basic survival instincts to last as a relatively harmless animal. His walk was neither too fast or too slow, always looking ahead but never dragging behind.
A few blocks away from the house where he had landed was a park. Grimmjow tried to slink past the area as quickly and quietly as possible, not wanting to draw attention to himself. The park was full of small children, running around or playing on the playground. Carefree laughter and delighted screams reached Grimmjow's ears, causing him to twitch. He hated little kids too. The brats were annoying and always needed someone to take care of them. He hated little kids crying their lungs out even more. The high-pitched wailings were absolutely horrific. Grimmjow dove behind a trashcan just as a group of rowdy children ran past, chasing each other. He growled in annoyance before continuing on, eager to bypass the park without any trouble.
"Look, everyone! A kitty!"
Grimmjow couldn't believe his luck. Without pausing to even turn around, he immediately took off in the opposite direction of the voice. A meaty hand clamped down upon his tail, the palm slick with sweat. He yelped as the hand yanked him back, pulling him into a circle of small children. More hands reached out to him, and Grimmjow found his sensitive nose filled with the reeking smell of sweaty bodies.
"Aww! It's so cute!" A squeal from a blond girl with pigtails.
"Look at its fur! It looks almost blue!" A gasp from a plump boy.
"I wonder who's it is? I bet it belongs to a rich lady… I hear they breed animals to look unique." Another boy spoke up.
"Maybe we can play with it!" One girl suggested, squealing along with the first girl.
Or we can let him go! Grimmjow thought furiously, mewling loudly as hands carelessly grabbed chunks of his fur. Other hands attempted to pet or rub him, scratching too hard on his skull or leaving disgusting streaks of sweat on his smooth fur. He tried to scratch his way out of the crowd of children, but firm hands held on to his legs as well. He tried hissing and biting at the violating hands, but the girls only giggled and told him to be 'a good girl'.
"Whatcha guys all lookin' at?!" A loud, rude voice broke through the chatter of children crowded around him. Suddenly, the chatter ceased and the hands miraculously let go, the children backing away. Grimmjow turned towards the new sound, grateful for the timely intrusion.
Whack! Grimmjow jumped backward, hissing as a throbbing pain blossomed across his side. He looked up into the ugly face of a large and fat boy, a mean grin plastered on his dirty face. In one hand, he held a large stick that he used to hit Grimmjow, the other hand clenched into a tight fist. "Hey look guys! It's a smelly cat!" The boy laughed, snorting as he did so. Grimmjow had no doubt he was looking straight at the playground bully. He still couldn't believe his luck.
The bully advanced on him, swinging his stick at Grimmjow, cackling with every blow. Grimmjow ducked and evaded, his reflexes slightly faster than the wide sweeping motions of the stick. He felt ridiculous, playing fight with a ten-year-old. Aizen was probably looking down at him, bursting a spleen with laughter. A jagged corner of the stick nicked Grimmjow's downy ear, and he felt the rage he had experienced before coursing through him again. Who the hell was this uglier-than-Ulquiorra kid trying to pick a fight with an Espada?! Seizing the opportunity when the bully raised his stick again, Grimmjow leapt up and gripped onto the front of the bully's bulging belly. With a swift motion, he sank his teeth into the stomach, giving a sharp bite before leaping back down and running the other way as fast as he could. He heard the loud wail of the bully and the command, "After it!" Soon, the footsteps of the bully's cronies thudded after him.
I'm out of your league, kid. Maybe when you become a Shinigami we can have a real fight. Grimmjow smirked and quickened his pace, intent to lose the cronies and finally escape the terrors of the playground.
Taking an abrupt left into an empty street, Grimmjow quickly hid behind a tall fence. The oblivious children chasing him ran past unaware. He waited until the distant sounds of their footsteps died away before stepping out. The incident had left him painfully aware of just how defenseless he was. If he couldn't escape the clutches of fawning children, how could he hope to stand a chance against real threats to his life? Past the hopelessness, he felt utterly pathetic. He was given a first-hand experience of why he hated small furry animals. Grimmjow walked on, refusing to sulk, but making a poor attempt at not doing so. His ears stood high above his head, straining for any suspicious sounds.
It was at that moment when he heard it: a roaring sound that chilled the bones and struck fear deep within the soul. It was a roar filled with pain and anguish. It was a roar that hungered for powerful spirits, its appetite never sated. It was a roar heralding imminent chaos and death.
The unmistakable roar of a Hollow.
Grimmjow's ears immediately flattened against his skull. All his senses were on high alert, and a prickling sensation trailed down his spine. He was in no position to be anywhere near a Hollow in his current state. He just hoped the Hollow was chasing a random plus spirit and not somehow attracted to his reiatsu. Cautiously, he slowly walked forward, making as little noise as possible. Being in a cat form tampered with his reiatsu detection; it was now fuzzy, replaced by a more acute five senses. He was forced to rely more on his sense of hearing, smell, and sight than his previous sense of reiatsu patterns. Still creeping along the sidewalk, keeping as low as possible to the ground, Grimmjow stealthily began crossing a deserted intersection.
He swung his head to the right, watching the road, and froze in midstep. His luminescent cat eyes expanded to the size of saucers, taking in the view.
A Hollow, easily the height of a one-story house, leered down at him. Its bleached white mask glinted in the low afternoon sun, casting a light red shadow underneath the empty eyeholes. As if Fate had desired to toy with him herself, the Hollow possessed the distinct form of a dog. Though, instead of ears, two curved horns protruded from its head, and its tail was a lethal whip-like appendage. The Hollow even salivated, twin trails of drool dribbling down its gaping mouth and splattering onto the street below. It tilted its head back, giving another roar of agony, before a thick tongue snaked out to lick its white mask.
Grimmjow's mind told him he was downright fucked, to say the least.
He didn't even need to think, all the energy within his body focused to his feet, and he bolted for his very life. He tore down the deserted lane in the opposite direction, aware of the Hollow giving chase. Out of the frying pan and into the fire described Grimmjow's current position incredibly well. He would gladly run back into the thick arms of the playground bully if it meant he could escape from this Hollow. He would gladly run back into the statue-like arms of even Ulquiorra if it meant he could escape from this Hollow. At least Ulquiorra wouldn't immediately kill him without Aizen's command, and in such a barbaric way as this Hollow undoubtedly would. In fact, he took back everything nasty he said about Ulquiorra and Aizen, deciding that giving his life wasn't worth a snicker at their expense. Funny how life-and-death situations made you desperate like that.
Grimmjow could feel the presence of the Hollow behind him, its feet creating loud heavy sounds as they crashed against the pavement with every step. He ran with all his might, knowing that even at that speed, he could still lose his life. He was simply too small to move great distances in short amounts of time. The Hollow had every advantage over him; if an adult human plus spirit couldn't evade a Hollow, how could he possibly outrun it? Grimmjow could hear the frantic thumping of his heart within his chest, furiously pumping enough blood to prolong his sprint. For all he knew, it could be his last.
A great paw suddenly lashed out, trying to swipe down upon the cat. Grimmjow's reflexes sprang into action, causing him to leap into the air. He had managed to dodge the paw at the last second, but the tip of a sharp claw caught his back leg. A spurt of blood leaked from the gash and Grimmjow clenched his jaw in pain. He could feel the sticky warm liquid trickling down his leg, leaving an irregular trail behind him. He had to keep on running, he couldn't afford to slow down despite the throbbing in his leg.
A great puff of hot fetid air blew from the Hollow's mouth, causing Grimmjow's fur to bristle. The Hollow was gaining on him, and there was nothing he could do about it. The pants of hot air tormented him, letting him know just how far behind the Hollow was. The tip of its hard bony nose occasionally brushed against his tail, sending spasm after spasm of desperation through him. A moment later, a swishing sound reached his ears, and the whip-like tail wrapped securely around him. A yelp of shock escaped his lips, and he found himself being raised high off the ground, his legs hanging uselessly in the air. Looking down, he saw the Hollow twist his head back to give a triumphant roar, dangling his form above the Hollow's own back. He was now in the perfect position to be thrown right into the Hollow's waiting mouth.
Grimmjow could only feel pathetic. He was currently being dangled like a plaything by a low-level Menos. It was incapable of conscious rational thought, unlike him, and solely driven by its hunger for souls. Normally, a Menos like this one would be like an ant underneath his feet, not even worth crushing. Now, he was completely at the non-existent mercy of it. He could almost laugh hysterically at the cards karma had dealt him. It was damn rich. He wondered if he should even struggle, if that would do him any amount of good. Nothing short of a miracle would save him now. He, the fearsome Sexta Espada, had lasted less than two hours in the human world. That had to be a new record in pathetic.
Perhaps karma was not as cruel as it could have been. Perhaps it finally felt sorry for Grimmjow. Whatever the case, a blur shot past them and suddenly a splash of black blood arched through the air. A piercing howl of pain rang out from the Hollow and the tail loosened from Grimmjow's body. He found himself once again free-falling towards the ground, watching as the Hollow's tail detached from its body. Next thing he knew, he landed facedown right onto something firm and smooth with a dull thump.
Grimmjow just about had enough of the tossing around and crash landings. He raised his head a little, blinking at the expanse of sheer black filling his vision. The blackness felt like fabric underneath his paws and the thin skin of his belly. His thoughts were quickly cut off as the feeling of being airborne assaulted his senses and his face was once again buried within the fabric. The sheer smell of it overwhelmed him; whatever had caught him smelled like a mixture of cologne, laundry detergent, and antiseptic. Grimmjow felt his nose twitch. Just like the town, this smell bothered him on how familiar it was, almost as if he had smelled it before.
There was a flurry of motion and Grimmjow felt himself being wrapped again, though the grip was less harsh. His face was hidden from the world, but he could clearly hear the sounds of slicing, clanking, and the continuous roars of the Hollow. Evidently, a miracle had happened, and someone had saved him and was now doing intense battle with the Hollow. It did nothing to boost Grimmjow's pride as the only being that could battle a Hollow was a Shinigami, which would explain the black fabric. A twinge of humiliation shot through him, saved by the enemy. It couldn't get any better than this.
Only a few moments passed before the street was quiet again, the Hollow's cries ending when it was presumably killed by the Shinigami clutching him. A clacking sound echoed, and Grimmjow knew they had landed safely on the ground. He raised his head off the fabric, intent on getting a look at his savior, when a sword came into view. It was pointed down, set against his savior's back, white strips of cloth wrapping around the metal securely. Realization hit him hard; he could recognize that sword anywhere. It was the only sword of its shape, its owner holding so much reiatsu that it was unsealable, always in its shikai form. The urge to see his savior's face died like the Hollow. He didn't need to see it anymore, he already knew. Everything made perfect sense. What a hand karma had dealt him indeed. But he tilted his small face upwards anyway, following the strong neck up to the equally strong jaw. A thin mouth met his gaze, then a nose, a pair of deep brown eyes, and finally, the trademark orange hair. Another wave of cologne washed over him, but Grimmjow couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight. This was the culmination of Aizen's prank and Grimmjow's despair.
He had landed right in Karakura Town and he was staring inches away straight into the face of Kurosaki Ichigo.
A/N: You can't get a better ending than that. :D I could just hear the drum roll and dun dun dun's… and I thought to myself, "What a perfect place to end!"
So I did.