Felis Domesticus

A/N: Oi! Guys! Look! I'm not dead! Magic! (Besides, it's lucky number six. 8D)

6

It had barely been a week before Ichigo was once again feeling discontent. Granted, he always seemed discontent, what with that ever-present scowl attached firmly to his face. Though, due to recent events, he was just glad it was a scowl and not a certain cat on his face.

But that wasn't saying much.

That batty Urahara must have worked more magic than Ichigo gave him credit for. With one visit, his beloved Aoi had suddenly transformed from a provoked porcupine to his personal shadow. When he would sit, it would invariably nestle within his lap. When he would stand, it would invariably hop up to the nearest counter. When he would sleep, it would invariably curl up on the far side of his bed. To his horror, he even opened up his school bag one bright morning in class to find it tucked deep inside among the scattered papers and textbooks.

It took all the self-restraint he had built up over the months to not immediately let out a hoarse yell of shock and outrage. It took even more effort to try and act ordinarily the rest of the school day, the fact that he harbored a pet within his school bag grated against his conscience for a good six hours. He had prayed to all the deities he knew for his cat to not let out an audible mewl or squirm too much; this fear was heightened during his testing periods, when the classroom was completely silent. Fortunately, his prayers seemed to have been answered, for the feline remained silent and motionless within his school bag. When he returned home, he awarded the furball with a good yelling fit that would have done Madarame Ikakku proud.

However, a week had passed since his critical visit to Urahara and Ichigo was beginning to sense an uneasiness building within his gut. He was beginning to question if the current behaviors his pet exhibited were normal for a cat. Loathe as he was to admit, he had finally decided upon the fact that the feline demonstrated vast intelligence; intelligence that was almost beyond the ability of an ordinary animal and seemed to stretch into the realm of a human's…

Of course, Ichigo retaliated by considering his inexperience with pets. Who was he to say what constituted as normal intelligence for an animal? It nevertheless didn't stop him from lying awake at night, pondering over the strange glints within those cerulean eyes or the obvious body language expressed, until his own chagrin at the ridiculousness of it all forced him into slumber. Then there were nights when he would wait until Aoi was fast asleep before gently running his long fingers over the cat's blue-black fur, thinking about everything and nothing, and wonder if Fate would ever throw something completely normal his way.

Outside the window, the moon would always set and the sun would always rise too soon.

Aizen Sousuke knew he was a bastard.

In fact, he was a backstabbing, downright evil son of a bitch. However, he figured that if he were the most handsome, cunning, and ambitious son of a bitch, then he would proudly take up that title. Who else could betray Soul Society on such a large scale? Who else could take up residence in the Hollow World itself and amass an army worth of the most elite Shinigami? Who else could have the Vasto Lorde dancing in the palm of his hand? Who else could smirk so perfectly, to cause even Orihime to go weak at the knees?

Aizen prided himself on his unprecedented accomplishments and the threatening force of his Espada. His feelings were similar to a child bent over a priceless coin collection: each round piece of metal shinier than the one before. When the time came to finally confront Soul Society in war, he would make sure he used each one to their full potential. The Key would be his; the taste of inevitable victory staining his tongue. Only then will his true reign begin.

However, even Aizen was not completely perfect. It wasn't a pressing issue that needed his urgent care; rather it could be classified as a mere burr to his side. But it nagged at the outer fringes of his mind, somehow always able to catch a fraction of his attention. He supposed it was because there was always going to be a black sheep of the herd, no matter how hard he tried.

It just so happened that the Sexta Espada, Grimmjow, was his black sheep.

Of course, Aizen would have preferred if all his Arrancars were like Ulquiorra, but that was just wishful thinking. Every Hollow was different and unique, and it really shouldn't matter to him what their personality was like as long as they were useful to him. However, there was only so much impudence and annoyance he could take before an example had to be set. He had been entertaining the idea of somehow humbling Grimmjow for a while now, and it would be a shame to let such an ingenious idea go to waste. Besides, just the sheer horror reflected in the cerulean eyes of his sixth Espada was enough entertainment to last him until the winter confrontation with Soul Society. On top of that, he had thoroughly enjoyed the rare semblance of tranquility that had descended upon Las Noches. Though, now that Grimmjow was gone, that Nnoitra was in danger of becoming the second example.

"Hmm. I am curious. How do you think little Grimmjow is getting along?" The voice of the former Third Division captain cut through the haze of his thoughts. "How long do you plan on keeping up his punishment?"

Aizen tapped the metal of the armrest, his lazy gaze wandering over Gin's fox-like features. "It has been less than two weeks. There's little need for concern yet."

Gin gave a nod in quiet acknowledgement. "However, based on Szayel's instruments, I have noticed increasing reiatsu fluctuations from him due to the transformation. This will attract lesser Hollows to his vicinity."

The rhythmic tapping suddenly ceased and the voice that sounded from the ex-captain's mouth was wrapped in iron. "Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps that's exactly what he needs? Maybe even deserves?" Honestly, what was the point of a good punishment if he went soft like Gin?

"He needs to understand fear." Aizen continued. "He needs to understand helplessness. He needs to understand he is nothing more than what I have created him to become."

Sensing the matter was closed, the silver-haired Shinigami fell silent.

Aizen leaned back in his chair, resuming the habitual tapping. He supposed his former vice captain had a point; the matter still felt like it had some loose ends. If there was one thing Aizen despised, it was loose ends. You never know when the strands will come back and strangle you. His voice was considerably more serene when he spoke again. "Though, it's best to be prepared in case anything unfortunate should happen to Grimmjow. Send out both Menoly and Loly. They have better uses than harassing Inuoe Orihime."

More satisfied, Gin moved to carry out his orders, but before he reached the enormous double doors at the end of the room, Aizen's voice resonated within the chamber again.

"And summon Luppi, would you?"

Finally, Gin allowed himself a wide grin.

Ichigo groaned loudly as he stubbed his little toe on the way to the bathroom, letting out a string of curses that he was glad his father and sisters weren't in the house to hear. There was no telling what his dear old man would do as punishment. It didn't help that he was half naked, with only a fluffy and too small pink towel wrapped around his slim waist.

It would appear that Yuzu had pushed laundry to the last of her weekly chores that week, leaving Ichigo with only her own bath towel on the rack when he decided to take a refreshing shower that night. His father had taken the two girls and Rukia out to see another special live Don Kanonji show. This time, he had adamantly refused to tag along, even with the knowledge that he'd be rooted to the house alone with Aoi. Rukia seemed especially giddy, mumbling something about 'quality time' and 'bonding'. Not that it made any sense to him to begin with.

He had been making good use of the quiet alone time to study for an important exam when he suddenly realized that the house was boiling, causing him to sweat like a pig all over his exam preparatory materials. Deciding that a lukewarm shower would help him freshen up, he had stripped off all clothing before deciding to open his bedroom window to air out the room. That was how he found himself, cursing like an uncultured street kid in front of the bathroom with only a towel around his waist. At a closer inspection, he also discovered that there was a pattern of yellow rubber ducks across the pink background.

The redhead composed himself just in time to notice his pet slinking up the stairs, the feline stopping dead in his tracks on top of the landing. Luminous cerulean orbs fixed themselves on Ichigo's half naked form, blinking almost owlishly up at him. It wasn't an intense and awkward stare, rather just an unexpected and caught unawares kind of stare. Ichigo didn't know exactly how he knew this.

"You have five seconds to look away."

Surprisingly, the cat inched closer, eyes narrowing in an almost challenging way. Suddenly, the throbbing in his small toe ebbed away as a brief image of Grimmjow flashed inside his mind. Ichigo's face contorted slightly, his rebellious mind racing through all the tiny details of his enemy, details he hadn't known he had picked up until then.

There was the wild hair, just as unruly as his own and sporting a color just as ridiculous as well. It was loud. It was obnoxious. Frankly, he had never seen anything like it. Then there were the eyes, the eyes, a blue so vibrant that it make all other pairs of eyes he had seen dull by comparison. The twin cobalt pools reflected defiance, madness, and a desire to win at everything. It was reminiscent of the look in his own Hollow self's eyes, and the thought had greatly disturbed him. Lower down was the grin, a grin that showed too much teeth to be completely innocent. It radiated confidence and wicked intentions. Ichigo never felt a stronger urge than to wipe that infuriating grin off. The rest of him didn't get any better. The immaculately bleached jacket was almost scandalous compared to his own formal attire, and the amount of skin shown during the few times they had fought was entirely too distracting.

Before he could control himself, an angry flush bloomed across his cheeks, and he willed away further images of the teal-haired freak. Shooting his pet a dirty glance in response, he strode inside the bathroom. If nothing else, he could always unhook the showerhead and spray the feline if it continued to provoke him. With an uncharacteristic smirk, he dropped his towel and stepped inside the shower.

Ichigo turned his head around, instinct whispering to him to keep an eye on his pet just in case. The cat had moved from the top of the stairs to quietly pad across his bedroom, aiming for beneath the window. With a snort, Ichigo finally closed the sliding shower doors, his left hand reaching for the water tap. Through the distortion of the transparent doors, he could still see the faint black smudge of his pet crouched below his window.

He twisted the knob.

Just as the first droplets of cold water splashed onto his skin, his eyes widened as he saw the black smudge leap onto the windowsill and disappear into the still darkness of the night.

"AOI!"

If the sheer force of his loud cry didn't crack the sliding shower doors, then the force of his arm throwing it open almost did. Ichigo didn't think; he just acted. The stream of water was quickly shut off and the pink towel snatched off the floor in a hasty effort to scramble to his bedroom window.

What the fuck?! That was a two-story house he just jumped out of! What's Rukia gonna say when she finds a mangled splat outside my bedroom window?! I didn't rescue the damn thing only to watch it commit suicide right in front of me!

He thrust his crown of orange hair out the window, eyes frantically searching the ground below for any signs of the cat. A quick sweep of the sidewalk revealed nothing. With a particularly potent curse, Ichigo did the only thing he could have thought up with half his torso stuck out a two-story window. His grip tightened on the flimsy towel and sucking in a deep breath, he leapt out the window himself.

Rukia would personally make him a real Shinigami if that cat wasn't returned.

He couldn't have gotten very far… He reasoned to himself, mostly to comfort his sudden moment of panic. The redhead scanned both sides of the empty street, finally spotting a small form round the corner underneath the glow of the streetlights. Hoping that no random soul would suddenly have the urge to look out the window that night, he proceeded to sprint down the street after it.

For the first time in his life, Ichigo felt thankful for the invention of pants. He had never ran so ungracefully and awkward in his life than down the street with only a fluffy pink towel gripped around his waist. What would his friends say if they saw him now? The worst part of it was that he had to constantly hitch up the towel as it had a tendency to slip down his hipbones after every couple of strides. Perhaps that was why when he rounded the same corner, his target was nowhere in sight again.

With a strangled cry of agony, he kept on sprinting ahead anyway, all of his senses peeled for any signs of a cat on the loose. It didn't help that his Aoi's fur was a dark color; it blended too well with the darkness. Ichigo squinted through the inky background, spotting an intersection ahead. A streetlight was erected beside it, and a glimmer of hope surfaced within him as he saw a dark-furred animal dart through the yellow light. He increased his pace, wincing as stray gravel dug into the soles of his feet. His target seemed to be slowing down a bit, and if he ran just a little faster, there was a chance he could at least grab it by the swishing tail.

Closer… closer…

The glimmer of hope plummeted down to his stomach as the unmistakable form of a Garganta suddenly sliced through the thin air.

The small form ahead came to a complete halt. Ichigo knew it was his only chance. With a leap that would have done long jumpers proud, he looped his free arm around the underside and brought the creature close to his naked chest. However, any silent victories in his mind died when there was now a much much bigger problem to confront.

Ichigo didn't even bother to look at the dark shadows emerging from the unnatural rip connecting the two worlds; he turned on his heel and ran for his life in the opposite direction.

Gargantas meant only one thing: Hollows, and more likely, Arrancars.

The latter assumption was confirmed as a high-pitched girlish giggle echoed down the deserted street and the quiet night was suddenly illuminated by the beginning formation of a cero.

"Ne, Menoly… Is that what Aizen-sama wanted us to watch over?"

A condescending chuckle sounded in response. "Hmm. Pathetic."

All the tiny hairs on the back of Ichigo's neck raised as the crimson cero shot past him, grazing his ear and singeing a few loose orange strands. Resigned anger boiled within his gut; he knew he could do nothing against his foes, not when they were of at least Numero rank and he missing his zanpakuto. Besides, he couldn't afford to think of only himself, not when the soul of his own pet was on the line as well. He tried to remind himself that he was doing this because he didn't want his previous heroic deed to be a waste if the cat died, but something urged him to tighten his grip on the squirming thing and concentrate on sprinting as fast as he could. The loose towel did not help.

"Huh… Aizen-sama didn't inform us that there would be someone protecting him. I wonder, Menoly, if the human can see us." A female voice sounded once more, laced with contempt.

"There's only one way to find out."

Ichigo's heart skipped a beat at what he heard. Where was the town Shinigami on patrol? He knew there was no time to reach Rukia, but at least her cell phone would inform her of Hollows nearby. If only another Shinigami could intervene for just a moment to allow him time to transform, he could turn the tables on the Arrancars.

The night was illuminated in red once more and on instinct, Ichigo leapt as high as he could into the air, narrowly dodging the cero that fired into the ground. Shards of pavement and chunks of cement flew in all directions, the force of the explosion nearly pitching him face first into the ground. He winced as some of the debris imbedded themselves onto his bare back.

"Seems like he can. What do we do, Loly? Report back to Aizen-sama immediately or take out the human?" The second voice was female as well, but the words held less emotion behind them than her partner's.

Another high-pitched giggle tore its way out of Loly's throat. "Aizen-sama never specifically told us what to do after we found that asshole. I was thinking we can just destroy him right now. I could care less about the worthless human."

Confusion clouded Ichigo's mind. The conversation behind him held less and less sense. Aizen's behind this? How? Why would he have anything to do with a harmless cat? However, he did know one thing: the Arrancars were set on consuming the feline captured within his arm. This mystery is growing more and more bizarre…

As if on cue, his pet began relentlessly struggle within the redhead's hold, sharp claws extending out to scratch against the pale skin pressed behind him. Teeth were next, and he twisted and squirmed with all his might. "Stop moving!" Ichigo snapped at the convulsing animal, his run becoming even more awkward and his grasp involuntarily loosening. It would be all over if he were to be hit with a cero, his raw human reiatsu no match for the two Arrancars.

Another crimson blast ricocheted off the nearest building, spraying his face with dust particles and flecks of cement. His breath was forced out in heavy pants, his lungs and feet were burning, and there was the cool sensation of air resistance against the tiny trickles of blood down his chest from scratch wounds. He could see the blazing characters of Kurosaki Clinic dead ahead, the top floor window to his bedroom still wide open. Just a little more… Then he would snatch his Shinigami badge and finally be able to fight.

All thoughts flew out of his head as the ground shook with an unprecedented force, propelling his body weight forward. With a dull thump, Ichigo landed heavily on the pavement, his palms and pectorals stinging from the resulting skid. Shit! He remembered dropping the cat before he crushed it underneath his body weight. Something furry nudged against his side and he tried to regain the hold on his towel as well as scramble back onto his feet. Every second was precious, and he couldn't afford to lie down in the middle of the street like an easy target.

That's when the next cero grazed his right shoulder and he was forced down again, clenching his teeth in an effort not to cry out at the searing pain on his shoulder. The smell of burning flesh assaulted his nose, and wisps of smoke drifted up from the nasty wound. His hands clenched themselves into fists and he fought to see through the curtain of dust.

Panic squeezed his heart in an steel grip when he could no longer feel the pressure of fur on his side. Instead, something much heavier rested beside him, at least half of its weight leaning across his back. His first thought was that his body was trapped beneath a particularly heavy chunk of cement, before the thing shifted and hot moist breath blew against his ear. The next moment, the breath was gone and the pressure disappeared.

Ichigo barely registered the shocked exclamations that suddenly sounded behind his prone form. The atmosphere had quickly changed and he knew something had gone horribly unplanned.

"Impossible…!" The female Arrancar's voice was now tinged with disbelief and unsuppressed fear. "How…?"

Then came a third voice, characterized as only a hoarse chuckle. The sound originated from the very core of the chest and swiftly gaining in both volume and insanity until it became a loud maniacal laughter. It echoed into the silent night, the sinister noise deep and masculine, sending chills down the spine of all who heard. "Surprised?" The single word was filled to the brim with twisted amusement.

Ichigo knew that voice. He knew that exact tone. He knew whom it belonged to. It was the same voice that haunted his restless nights and mocked him in the back of his mind.

That was all he could process before vibrant blue clouded his vision.

A/N: Another perfect place to stop, wouldn't you agree? O:D

And no, I have never gone running down the street at night with only a towel on, so pardon me if there are any inaccuracies in the depiction of the scene. XD