51. Tells
Ichigo had tells. Many, many tells- he would never have won a poker game if he played, though thankfully he didn't. His eyebrow twitched when he was pissed, his pupils shrank when he was scared, surprised, or in pain, his hair had a tendency to bristle, when he got nervous or excited he couldn't keep his damn hands still, and he was always, always loud when he was emotional. It took only a glance to know his mood if you knew him for any length of time, even around the perpetual scowl he wore. At the moment, however, he was absolutely blank. Beaten, bleeding, and physically broken, Ichigo had been brought in by Barragan and forced to his knees before Aizen and the other Espada, but his face betrayed nothing. His eyes said nothing, the pupils dilated in the low light despite the incredible pain he had to be in, and something in Grimmjow raged THIS IS NOT KUROSAKI! IT CANNOT BE! but his nose and his mouth told him it was. The scent filtering into his open mouth was as unmistakable as his own; he knew the smell of Kurosaki, the taste/smell of his skin and his blood, and that was him. Where had his tells gone? Who had painted his porcelain mask to take the place of Kurosaki's face? The boy was silent and emotionless when questioned, not flinching when hit for refusing to answer, but that only lasted for half an hour. Aizen, having become impatient, descended from his throne to threaten the teenager himself. He had overestimated his own power, taking Kurosaki's silence and stillness as submission and surrender, and was so arrogant as to kneel down to the prisoner's level and touch him. That was his mistake, because in a flash of orange movement suddenly Aizen lay dead on the floor, eyes wide with surprise and his body mangled beyond belief, Kurosaki spitting out bone and gristle and blood as his bonds came undone and he rose to his feet. Wiping his mouth with the back of one hollow-armored arm (the white armor had come from seemingly nowhere, extending from toe to knee and elbow to fingertip, not including the tail) he chuckled. "Pride goeth before a fall."
Barragan rose, probably to try and declare himself King now that Aizen was dead, and abruptly he joined Aizen on the floor in pieces, blood showering those seated as Kurosaki calmly snapped his tail to clean the thick redness from it. Then he spoke. "Grimmjow, I gotta thank ya. If it hadn't been fer ya makin' King call on me in battle so damn much I prolly woulda never managed ta convince him that now he's proved he's the King an' I'm the Horse I'll willin'ly serve 'im. We came up wit' this plan t'gether an' since we all know he can't hide his emotions fer shit we agreed I'd be the star o' this mission. We knew it'd be a suicide mission from th'start…but we plan on takin' a good half o' ya with us." The Espada sat stock-still, stunned, but after a few moments Grimmjow rose. He took slow, measured steps as he walked around the table to Ichigo, ignoring several raised eyebrows, and once before the Soul Reaper he folded gracefully to one knee, one hand on the floor to steady him and the other on the knee that nearly touched his chin. "My liege." There was a tense moment of silence, and though Grimmjow couldn't see it, Ichigo's eyes flashed from tawny gold irises to honey ones, orange brows drawing together in confusion as pupils shrank. The teen put a hand to the teal hair to make sure he wasn't imaging things. "Grimmjow?" Knowing it was now Kurosaki and not the other, the panther reached up to take Ichigo's right hand. "You have soundly defeated and executed my previous ruler in fair combat, and I found him an unworthy King, and so I acknowledge you as my new Monarch and will follow you forever. Long may you live." From the table came a half-sleep "Seconded." followed quickly by several "Witnessed and accepted." and someone rumbling "Long live King Kurosaki."
The teen was startled and confused, and he showed it. "Uh…okay? What does this… mean? On the whole, that is. I get the gist of it." Grimmjow bent forward and kissed the tanned hand he held, tongue flicking out just a tiny bit to get a taste of that wonderfully human skin and the power that thrummed audibly over and beneath it. "It means I am your man, now until death and beyond, and the others accept you as my choice and our King." Ichigo blinked and tugged on the hands holding his. "Then rise- I'll have no man of mine bow to me. I'm not nearly arrogant enough for that." Grimmjow had to fight the urge to purr at that statement and then realized he didn't have to suppress such urges because Kurosaki wouldn't consider it a weakness, wouldn't look down on him for it, and then burst out purring so loud and hard his body shook. He nuzzled the hand he was still holding at the same time, and after only a second or two he heard a breath-like chuckle. "Looks like I said the right thing. Good, I don't want to piss you off." Letting his gaze rise to meet his King's, the blue-haired Arrancar couldn't help flushing with pleasure when Ichigo continued, "The last thing any King needs is a pissed off Guardsman, and I'm hoping that you'll willingly be my protector for many more long years to come." Nearly a century of Ichigo's Benevolent and Beloved rule later, during one of the open courts that were held so the lesser hollows could interact with their King (a practice that had fallen into great disfavor during the time of Hathsgar the Hungry, who tended to eat all the hollows that had attended) Grimmjow voiced a question that had been bothering him for about fifty or sixty years. "M'lord, how did you know that Aizen had dropped his guard? None of us Espada could tell for the life of us." Ichigo smiled evilly.
"He had a 'tell'."
Growl
The first time he'd heard it, he had flattened himself to the sand and froze there, hoping against hope that the being that made it would overlook him as inconsequential and pass him by. That was the growl of something Big and Bad and Hungry on the prowl and he was still a lower-class adjucas; something that Big and Strong would need something strong to eat, so there was a fair chance he could escape notice if he stayed quiet and still. The scent of his own fear was strong in his nostrils, blotting out any other scents, and with the sands ever-shifting to cover the noise of footsteps he had no way to tell if the threat was getting closer or farther away until he heard another growl, louder, closer, making his ears twitch and vibrate as he pressed down further into the sand. He was taken by surprise when the back of a claw trailed down his side in a firm stroke that made him jump to the other side from surprise. An amused rumble from the direction the touch had come from made him look, and there was a lizard-type Vasto Lorde there, his long, thick tail sweeping lazily with his amusement as he continued to rumble. He approached Grimmjow again, his long mane of orange hair swaying in the ever-present wind, and the panther pressed himself further into the sand, stifling a whine. The reiatsu was playful, mostly, with the hunger only the constant undertone they all had, and he would only anger the stronger Hollow if he resisted him by trying to run. The lithe Lorde draped himself over Grimmjow's still form, nuzzling and cuddling against him lovingly. Grimmjow, on the other paw, was confused as hell. This behavior didn't fit a lizard- he was acting like a bitch in heat when she was trying to get herself fucked. Lizards didn't have a heat…right?
A low purr from the Vasto Lorde struck a chord in him, and he purred back, pawing gently at one of the arms draped around him. The thick, scaly tail slammed into the sand repeatedly and rapidly, a wagging motion that expressed pleasure. Grimmjow answered with happy flicks of his own tail, rubbing his body against the one above him in an irresistible answer to the call of mating. A higher-ranking male of great beauty makes an offer such as this, what answer can be given but yes? The mating was messy and quick, but nearly painless and passionate in a way that was more than rare among emotionless Hollows. It was absolutely wonderful and they parted ways afterward. Grimmjow wouldn't know until later, when scenting the area thoroughly to imprint the lizard's scent on his nose so he wouldn't forget it, that he found out that particular mating session had come at the exact perfect moment; if that particular Vasto Lorde hadn't chosen him to sate his heat with right at that moment, he would've been eaten by a low-level Vasto Lorde that, after the coupling, was eaten promptly by the orange-haired male that had just paired with him.
The second time he heard that growl, his mouth had opened to catch the scent and- yes, the lizard Vasto Lorde was in heat again! Grimmjow rumbled and whined, heard his previous partner call quietly and his tail thump the sand, and presented, purring loudly. Ass in the air, tail lifted, chin on his paws so he didn't get his face shoved in the sand, he was more than pleased when an orange mane flickered at the edge of his vision and white, clawed front legs braced against the sand from over his shoulders. This coupling was even better than the last, completely painless and still passionate, but this session lasted much longer and through several orgasms for both males- the more powerful hollow must've been caught earlier in his heat this time to result in a longer sex drive. Even if that wasn't the case, Grimmjow certainly wasn't complaining.
The third time was the precursor to many, many more. He heard the now-familiar growl, but he couldn't smell any heat-scent, only lizard and sand and interest. Thinking the much more powerful male wouldn't be interested him outside of his heats(and oddly disappointed at the thought), he pressed his body down into the sand to wait for the Lorde to pass him by. It didn't happen. A thick, scaly tail twined with his own and a long, lean body rubbed against his side, the rusty-sounding growl of a lizard's purr ringing through the air. "Mine. Mi Pantera." Grimmjow's entire body throbbed hard at that phrase, that one word- Panther King. "Yours. Soy tu Pantera…" he hesitated slightly, then changed his tone slightly to be questioning as he ran a paw over the Vasto Lorde's shoulders. "Mine?" The lizard licked his cheek and purred again, sounding like a rusted-out engine. "Si. Soy tu Ichigo. Tu One Protector. Mate." Grimmjow melted- mate was always and forever, soul-to-soul, and this beautiful, powerful male wanted him. He rubbed against his mate a little harder, purred, and presented. This coupling was different- his mind unclouded by the heat-lust, Ichigo took the time to explore and learn the contours and planes of the body of his beloved, and he kick-started the second round by nudging Grimmjow back up to a standing position before turning around and presenting himself. The panther had barely been able to believe his eyes- a more powerful hollow, one that could kill and devour him with little trouble anytime he wanted, was offering submission. It was flat-out mind-boggling. Grimmjow had never found domination sweeter in his life than that time.
Grimmjow did eventually evolve into a Vasto Lorde, just like his mate, and over the decade or so that it took him to achieve that rank, he became very, very familiar with all of Ichigo's different growls- his 'hungry' growl, his 'angry' growl, his 'lusty' growl and his 'hurting' growl. Of all the growls he learned, the one he liked best wasn't the 'heat' growl he'd heard the first time he met his lizard mate- in fact, it almost wasn't a growl at all. His favorite was the 'purr' growl, because he only ever heard it when Ichigo was thinking about how much he loved his larger mate and was content with their life together.
(Note: My Spanish was only two years taken in High School over two years ago so I never got far and can't quite recall the specifics of verb-noun order and context, so if I totally butchered the very limited Spanish I used please forgive me for I know not how else to use it. Feel free to correct me and my failings and if any of my readers know French there's a long and lengthy discussion I'd like to have with you for use in another story because I know approximately seven words in French- 'yes', 'no', 'please', 'thank you', a swear word, 'bathroom', and 'nose'. That of course is not counting what I've read in other fics (the accuracy of which is questionable) and the name of food- I'm a Foodie, I know words for different foods in almost any language. ANYWAY, to use French in a story- Jeagerjaques is very, very French after all- I am going to need lots of help and free translators on Google don't work very well for conversations.)
Life
Ichigo's human life, once he found out about it, absolutely fascinated Grimmjow. He always wanted to know more. When Ichigo found out Grimmjow was stalking him and why, he'd laughed and proceeded to teach the Arrancar as much about life as he wanted to know. It could honestly be said that Grimmjow now knew a hell of a lot more about the human world than any Soul Reaper, and his intense curiosity never seemed to wane so he was constantly learning. Then the man had heard the phrase "live life, laugh loud, love long," and right now he was demanding Ichigo teach him about the "love long" part because they'd already covered the other two. However, it was difficult because he couldn't seem to understand the concept of "love" in the first place and Ichigo was trying to explain the difference between emotional and physical love all at the same time. The teen wound up turning him onto porn for the physical, and his sisters' romance novels for the emotional. The day Grimmjow came into his room, pinned him to his bed, and demanded a demonstration of this "love" shit, he realized this might not have been the best idea. He told the man it wasn't that simple, that it was part of the living experience that you just had to be alive to fully understand, and Grimmjow had scowled and nipped at his throat in reprimand. "I let you get away wit' that excuse when ya didn't wanna explain ta me before, but it ain't gonna work this time. Now show me what the fuck human 'love' is!" Ichigo, whose blush was creeping down his neck to his collarbone already, shook his head. "I'm serious, it's a human thing! You have to be alive to really get it- even Soul Reapers who claim to 'love' don't understand 'love' between humans; the love in the living world. It's something unique to us living humans." Grimmjow nipped him again. "You will find a way to make this up to me, Kurosaki. You'd better teach me to live properly."
Death (WARNING: Violence, execution, and dark themes ahoy!)
His death came entirely unexpected to everyone other than himself. He'd noted the increased danger of leaving his apartment recently, how more of the gang men that hated him were carrying actual weapons these days. He'd even taken to carrying a katana. On the day he died, they had attacked full force, tied his arms behind his back once he'd been disarmed and beaten, forced him to his knees, put a gun to the nape of his neck and nearly decapitated him with one shot. He took small comfort in taking all of them with him, dragging their souls out by force once he was dead and sending them on to Soul Society or Hell- he was particularly gratified to see the man who pulled the trigger on him get sucked into the gates of Hell kicking and screaming. Slinging his sword over his shoulder, he fingered the five or six short links that were all the Soul Chain he had. It promptly bit him. Nursing the bite, he ignored the staggering pain of the end link devouring itself and wandered upward- he could feel some Espada coming through a nearby dimensional rip and he may as well go out fighting. The demon in his consciousness whispered to him for once rather than screaming and he let himself listen to it. King…you mean to die? Ichigo laughed, though it was slightly hysterical and rang through the air eerily. No, but when the final link is eaten, you'll take over because we'll be a hollow and then either one of the Captains comes to kill us or Aizen gets ahold of us, so my time will be over and I'll have nothing but whatever battle you let me taste. So I mean to go out with a bang. When he smiled at the enemy, none other than Grimmjow himself, it was all teeth and the canines were extra long and sharp. "Good to see you, Grimmjow. Nobody I'd rather die fighting than you!" Grimmjow was visibly startled, but had no time to question before he was defending himself from furious, desperate strikes. The strikes harried and pressed him, a tactic used by men at the end of their strength, and he was obviously confused by its' use at the very start of a battle. In the middle of pressing his advantage, the teen shuddered, stumbled, and stopped, clutching his chest with a whine.
Drawing back, he looked down at the last link in his chain and then back up at Grimmjow, a sad almost-smile curling the corner of his mouth. "Sorry…looks like I'm outta time and won't go out fighting you after all. I was hoping you'd have killed me by now." Grimmjow growled- he was not something to be used so the boy could commit suicide- but then the orange-haired man's head slammed back with a Hollow's first scream of agony. A hole appeared in his chest where his soul chain had been, and the white spiritual energy of a Hollow mask seeped from his eyes and mouth to start taking over his face. After only a few minutes of this screaming, agonizing process, the hollow that once was Ichigo Kurosaki stood before the Arrancar, who had been frozen in horror to watch this happen to his favorite rival and prey. The hollow flexed his hands- err, claws- and shook out his mane, then looked around. "I dunno why King's so intent on defendin' this itty-bitty town…it's so borin' here…Ya'd think he'd be okay wit' just defendin' our lil' family, bu' no, he protects everybody…Oh well. I'll do what King wanted anyways. I owe 'im tha' much at least, considerin' his human body dyin' forced me onta th'throne without givin' 'im a fair chance t'fight fer it. M'sorry, Grimmjow, bu' tha' means ya gotta die." Grimmjow, alarmed at this declaration, held his hands up, palms out, in a 'hold up' motion. "Wait a sec, kid, I ain't got nothin' against ya an' don't intend on harmin' yer…'king's'…family. I ain't interested in the town either, just Ichigo. Now what's this about him dyin'?" The hollow stared at him, then laughed.
"King was human, ya nit-wit, an' somebody killed 'im. Ichigo Kurosaki, as you know my King, is dead." Hearing this, Grimmjow crumbled and ceased to fight. He would later be seen accompanying the soul formerly known as Ichigo Kurosaki into Hueco Mundo, and apparently protecting the hollow soul on the way. The soul would never be heard of or seen again until thousands of years later, when all who had known "Ichigo" were long gone and a Vasto Lorde hollow who demanded to be called "Horse" ruled both spiritual dimensions, his blue-haired consort the only one who knew why he wanted to be called Horse and never, ever tolerated anyone calling him "king".
Spartan
Aizen didn't exactly provide a 'room'. He provided 'accommodations', which meant you had only as much as you absolutely needed and not a speck more. A thin futon, a working bathroom that only had a toilet, sink, and shower, and a chair and desk against one wall if you were high-ranking enough to be required to provide reports were all that could be found in any room in Las Noches. The holding cells had even less- a toilet, and sink, and a stone bench that qualified as a bed if you weren't too high-strung to sleep (which, if you were in a bad enough situation to be in a holding cell, you probably were). Ichigo had been here about a month, seeing as they fed him twice a day exactly- Ulquiorra was precise like that- and he'd had…twenty-seven, twenty-eight…fifty-three meals so far, so that was, what, twenty-two days? Yeah, he was sometime during his twenty-second day right now, so more or less a month. He was starting to go crazy with the lack of color, frankly, and had begun mutilating himself with his nails just to wipe his blood on the walls if only to break it up. It was getting so bad he couldn't tell the walls and floor from each other, all of it blurring into one large, white formless expanse broken only by the barred door. He had spent some time wondering briefly if that was the point and Aizen meant to break the mind and spirit of those he locked up for large amounts of time by driving them insane with the solid whiteness, but it had only taken him moments to lose his train of thought and return to trying to keep himself some semblance of sane. He was beginning to think he was failing, because the blood marks on the wall started morphing into strange shapes if he stared at them long enough and he was hearing voices in the walls.
Here came another voice, one that sounded almost like one he should recognize for once. It was harsh and deep, rich with the vibrations of a mature male's vocal chords and drenched in rage and vicious intent. He sat on the bench-bed, one knee folded under his chin so he could rest one arm on it, and leaned his head against the wall behind him, staring out through the bars of the doors. Not Ulquiorra, the cuarta would never have that much emotion in his voice, and not one of the regular guards…wait, the shrill tones of the second shift were piping up, apparently arguing with the vibrating voice. Ichigo closed his eyes to wallow in the sound- the waves from the clashing voices were lovely, now that he was sensitive enough to notice such things, and the Vibrating Voice created strong waves that rippled out from the words. SLAM! The waves from the outer door slamming open were far too loud and powerful, making the teenager's head spin and his ears ring. Holding his head, he was vaguely able to register that the Vibrating Voice was much closer now, probably in the room with him, and speaking (presumably to him), but he couldn't make out much more than muffled vibrations and violently rippling waves. His palms were over his ears, so even the non-wave noises weren't clear, and he felt the floor-shaking rumble of the barred door opening. Big, hot-skinned hands were suddenly on his own, drawing them aside, and the vibrating voice was directly in his ear- he was being spoken to for the first time in weeks- but he couldn't make sense of the vibrations and the waves and the sounds he knew had to be words! "Stop, stop, I can't understand," he rasped, "it's been so goddamn long since somebody talked t'me I can't makes sense of speech anymore, shut up!"
The vibrations and waves stopped, and a hand on his chin brought his face up so he was looking Grimmjow Jaggerjack in the face, eyes level with the bridge of the Arrancar's nose. "Ichigo, yer free t'go," he said slowly, carefully, and the teen could actually make sense of it this time, "I'm here t'take you home. Come with me." Ichigo laughed softly, almost hysterically, and folded himself against the bigger, stronger body. "Oh good. This Spartan living shit has me so strung I've been imagining people in the walls and I'm so goddamn sensitive to every little change in the surrounding environment it's like a gong being rung in my head. I need to get the fuck outta here."
Warrior (Sequel to "Animals")
Grimmjow had gotten used to life in this whacked-out household fairly quickly. He was rather proud of himself, considering. He'd never seen another mythical or magical creature before he'd come to this house, hadn't even known if they still survived, so becoming accustomed to Ichigo's menagerie of animals normal, mythical, and magical in only a month was pretty damn impressive. Two years later and they'd somehow managed to gather a few more into the fold, and he had been surprised when he was appointed to mentor one of the new recruits- he'd figured he was a bad choice for a role model, with all the house rules he broke (though he'd never, ever broken one of the three Rules Ichigo had laid down for him that first night). He'd been assigned a greenhorn by the name of Haineko- Ash Cat, which just so happened to be her species. She'd been called by the term for so long she had taken it for her name; Grimmjow couldn't blame her either, since he'd only been "Panther" until he named himself so he would remember he was different. She'd been rambunctious and difficult, almost kitten-like despite her four-year-maturity. She was old enough to have heats and birth litters, so he admitted he was rather stern and strict in getting her to behave herself to a degree while still inside the house. He'd probably been a little harsher than he ought to have been, but damn it, she was a female grown! She shouldn't still be gallivanting around like a two-month-old, and he let her know that, that was all. Of course, in all his time here (and 'here' was under Ichigo's roof- he'd moved to America a year and a half ago to someplace out in the middle of a hundred acres of farmland and with a magical barrier around the property to protect and hide everything and everyone inside the property lines, they were in heaven here) he'd never seen a serious fight except between the creatures; animals and creatures deferred to Ichigo, fought with each other, and played gently with kits, hatchlings, and other assorted young. He'd never expected to see anyone attack Ichigo or a creature or animal you knew wasn't able to defend themselves against you, but one day he did and that was when he learned fear.
He'd already known Ichigo could wield magic with extreme skill and was extremely strong in magic, mind, and body, he still remembered being restrained and being dragged back to the house bound, levitated, kicking, snarling, and clawing, but he'd never tested to find out exactly how strong. He'd never wanted to. The day the Dragon attacked, he found out. His Ichigo was a warrior. The boy had a will of iron, standing firm, even in the face of ice attacks that would have destroyed any other human, no matter how proficient at magic. Turned out, the strength of your magic wasn't just influenced by how much you could control at any one time, but the intent behind it, and Ichigo's intent was willed with all the force of an avalanche- YOU WILL NOT HURT MY PROTECTORATE, he'd roared at the top of his voice, magical shields up and being hammered, and sure enough the Dragon hadn't put so much as a scratch on any being that lived under Ichigo's protection. The same could not be said for Ichigo, unfortunately, who had later been forced (by the Dragon himself, once the poor bastard got his mind back; some evil sorcerer or another had put him under a spell that had him hunting white-feathered Avians for some obscure reason, and failing his mission had broken the spell) to undergo Phoenix healing to seal up the bone-deep wounds he bore. Renji had been scolding him even as he healed, asking why in the hell the human wouldn't let the immortals like him (the Phoenix) or Byakuya (the unicorn) or Zabimaru (the only nue) help him. Hell, even Kazeshini (a snake with slight magical properties like being able to speak human tongues and adjust his size to suit the situation; he was also a Black Mamba, one of the most deadly snakes known to man) would've been of some use! Ichigo snorted, sounding oddly like Shiro, and replied that he promised to protect anyone that came to him for protection, and that meant from rampaging legendary mythical creatures too.
Grimmjow had, after the largest and most life-threatening wounds were taken care of, poked and prodded at his human (Ichigo was his…everyone knew that it's not the people that own cats, but cats that own the people, after all…) until the man finally gave in and let him lick his scratches, cuts, and burns until they healed up from the healing agent in his spit. When he rose from where he had knelt to clean a cut on Ichigo's shin, he nuzzled the strong jaw and didn't care that he had to bend down to do it. "Next time, my warrior human, at least let me go into battle at your back. I can't let my first and favorite human get hurt on my watch, you know."
Dominance
It had never been a debate which male which was dominant and which was submissive in the relationship. It was pre-set, as most things about their kind were, easily discerned by scent. Then, of course, one of their comrades had to go and point out that Ichigo didn't smell like a submissive. Grimmjow hadn't understood- his mate sure as hell smelled submissive to HIS nose. Others had piped up, about half declaring he had the sweet, light scent of a submissive, and the rest adamantly declaring he radiated the dark, spicy scent of a powerful dominant. When arguments, and then actual fights broke out, Grimmjow used his authority as Leader to amplify his voice and roared for silence and order. Once these demands were met, he turned calmly to his mate and asked if he could explain this phenomenon. Ichigo, not even putting down the water skin he was drinking from, replied simply, "I am unique in that I am neither Dominant nor Submissive. As a result, my scent lies…I smell like whatever the person smelling me would prefer I be. Also, because of this unique feature of mine, I don't have a predestined mate like other Panthers. Technically, I'm not supposed to have a mate at all, since whatever mate I chose to take would then be separated from his or her destined mate that was chosen for them by the Great Mother." Standing, the orange-haired panther gave his –um, not mate? –a small bow. "Now you know why I never let you mate-bond me. I suppose I'll see you around…" Before anyone could question him, he was gone.
A year later, Grimmjow was still referring to Ichigo as his lost mate. He stubbornly insisted that if the orange-haired Panther wasn't his mate, nobody was, because he'd met and talked to and investigated every living Panther there was and none drew him the way his mate would. The way Ichigo had. The humans had hunted them nearly to extinction, so they only existed in a very small patch of islands close to the Philippians and yet hidden from the outside world. This meant that he'd literally met every other Panther in existence and none were his mate but Ichigo. In asking around to find Ichigo, however, he found out something that had chilled him to the soul- there was no small pride of five with an elder son and younger twin girls that had lost the mother on any of the islands, and there hadn't been a pride that even resembled that in years. The last twins to be born were three generations ago and they had been twin BROTHERS. It seemed that Ichigo hadn't been telling them the truth from the beginning. Hell, maybe his name hadn't even been Ichigo! Could he have been…could he really have been human? Well, he must've been, there were only Panthers and Humans aside from lower-class animals, after all. But why was the real question. Why come to the island of Panthers, live among them for years, and then disappear all of a sudden? The answer had come to the pride leader along with a sickening dread: research. The humans knew there was a small colony of Panthers surviving somewhere, and now they not only had someone who knew where, but knew all the Panther customs and mannerisms, how to infiltrate and destroy them from the inside.
He was on lookout duty again (he usually was these days, just in case Ichigo decided to return to him) when he heard crashing through the trees- something large was fleeing, and it sounded like it only had two legs. Probably a human then, but what was one doing this deep in the Panther Islands? He sharpened his senses, and he finally heard something he'd been praying to hear for almost two years. "Up hup!" It was the cutest thing- whenever Ichigo hauled himself onto a branch, he'd leap up and grab it in his hands, saying "Up hup" as he pulled his body weight up and onto the branch. It was just a unique quirk of his. Ichigo was back in the forest. He was back! Now- was the fleeing human Ichigo or was the fleeing human Ichigo's prey? When asked what he'd done to survive all alone before meeting Grimmjow, he had once tilted his head with a sneaky little smile and told them blandly, "I hunted humans for a living." They hadn't understood the phrase 'for a living', but they didn't need to. So the question was, was Ichigo the prey or the hunter in this particular instance? Thump! "Aagh!" "Stupid boy," purred Ichigo's smooth voice dangerously, "did you really think you could fool me? In my own territory? Stupid, stupid boy, poor little boy," his tone changed to a croon, "sent out to do a man's job. Such a pity I can't let you live. You violated my territory and orders or not I just can't let that go. I have to kill you or risk invasion from all sides, and I just can't have THAT. Little child, little child, who did you wrong? What ranked officer did you royally piss off to have him send you on a suicide mission into my territory of all territories, boy? I'll kill them for you after you're dead, I promise. Who was it, boy?"
Whimpers and cries came from the boy- Grimmjow shuddered, he'd have to think of him as prey to keep from being ill- and something that must've been the name. Ichigo soothed him. "Don't worry, boy, it won't hurt at all. I only make it hurt for enemies, and you're just a little boy in the wrong place at the worst time. Sshhh, sshhh, it's okay…tell Hallibel The Demon says 'hi' when you see her." A sick, wet crack rang through the forest, and Grimmjow closed his eyes and worked to keep his stomach down. Among the Panthers, whose numbers were so small, children were precious beyond all else and the thought of killing a child, no matter how evil, was one of the most horrible. The only thing worse was rape. A deep sigh came from the foliage hiding his mate. "Only twelve, this one…that bastard sent his own son deep into my territory, where he knew I couldn't show mercy…it's finally his turn to die." A growl that made Grimmjow's hair stand on end was followed quickly by barely-there sounds of retreat. Grimmjow thought to himself that maybe it was best that Ichigo wouldn't return quite yet- he wasn't quite sure he wanted to be dominant to him anymore and he needed time to adjust to that very, very scary thought.
Heart
Grimmjow had never cared about the hows and whys of the heart. That was Ulquiorra's racket. But he wondered about it from time to time, and after he fought the Kurosaki brat he spent a little time trying to figure out if the mythological 'heart' was what gave the kid that power to keep going even when he knew he was only plowing onwards towards his death. Curious, he'd spent a little time studying the boy and had eventually come to the conclusion that yes, the 'heart' was the endless wellspring from which he was always able to draw more strength, no matter how beat down, outclassed, or outnumbered he was. It had something to do with 'emotion' and 'love', which upon questioning Ulquiorra explained originated in the human heart. Now, of course, learning this pissed Grimmjow off immensely, because it meant that there was a power source that could make you damn near invincible and he could not possess it- it also meant that every whimpering human and pathetic shinigami that had called him a 'heartless monster' had essentially been calling him weak. Irritated with this, one day after mulling over how the hell he could get a 'heart' and coming up with no answers at all, since the power source obviously wasn't the organ (he had one of those, as his pulse could prove) he ripped open a gargantua and set out to search for the boy. The heart-passion of the others in the Living World were pale imitations of the heights that boy could reach, so the one who could best tell him how to get one had to be the young shinigami himself. He found the one he wanted in a small human den- a 'house', he thought they called them- and since the pride was in the middle of a meal, he settled down to wait outside the den. It was only fair not to interrupt.
Besides, interrupting the pride meal did not make the Leader (or Alpha male, as dogs called it) more inclined to help you, so it was much better not to distract him or pose a threat to the Pride. The shinigami also obviously was the Leader of this small pride, batting aside the male that must've been his Sire effortlessly when the older male challenged him. The Sire was almost like a mildly irritating fly that you flick with your tail if it bites but otherwise ignore, so he couldn't be the Leader and Kurosaki was the only other male present. He was a good Leader, looking after the pride when the meal was done, ushering the young females upstairs (probably to rest) and the Sire into a room of comfortable furniture, handling the cleanup himself. All good Leaders took care of the pride first- and it didn't seem like it was too hard to make it into this particular pride either. The other shinigami managed with relative ease, but then again it had all been wrapped up in and around an effort to save one of the people already in the pride, so he'd needed to make allies along the way. There was no way to orchestrate such a thing, and if Kurosaki ever found out it would destroy any credibility or trust he managed to earn, so that was out. He'd just have to try working the respect angle. First, wait until the kid was alone- he hadn't established himself as "not-a-threat" yet, and if the boy was busy defending and protecting his pride Grimmjow would never get anywhere- he had to approach the brat on equal terms, had to prove he came in peace…this time, at least. He just had to find out about the thrice-damned thing humans called the "heart"! He could tolerate anything for the answers he sought.
Smile
Stomping along through the forest, crushing twigs and leaves under his heavy hooves, the blue-haired centaur was in quite a temper. So what if he wasn't the Herd Leader's first-born son? He was still a warrior, a damn good one, and he was the best Hunter in the herd! His abnormally sharp hearing caught the sound of hooves fleeing from his position, but it sounded heavier than the deer that frequented this area and that startled him. He knew of no other large hoofed animals in this general area, as there were no horses here and those of his herd were the only centaurs, and this sounded very, very large indeed…perhaps even larger than your typical fully mature centaur male. Something growled, something else roared, and Grimmjow took off running. That roar sounded like a cross between a human yell and a stallion's scream- that was a distinctly centaur sound. He came into the clearing just as a massive, sunset-orange centaur brought down his front hooves to crush a wolf that had been foolish enough to rush him. This male was absolutely huge, the largest he'd ever seen in fact, with long hair that trailed down past where his human torso met his horse body that curled around his waist. The appearance of a second centaur spooked the remaining wolves, and they fled with their lives. The enormous stranger barely gave Grimmjow a glance, crouching and bending to pick up the still-warm corpse, which he then slung over his back as if the fifteen-stone wolf weighed no more than a small bag of herbs. (Note from Author: for you folks who aren't aware of how much a "stone" weighs, it's about 20 pounds. So fifteen-stone is roughly 300 pounds. It's an older term, but I use it fairly often.) One large hand on the wolf's ribs to keep it steady, the bigger male studied Grimmjow from the corner of his eye. He was extremely subtle; if Grimmjow hadn't been the best Hunter around, he would never have noticed.
The orange-maned stranger suddenly turned, gave Grimmjow the smallest of acknowledging nods, and then promptly spun around and galloped off. Startled, Grimmjow was abruptly seized by his herd instinct from being caught off-guard and he immediately thundered after the stranger, afraid he'd seen the wolves coming back. He didn't have his bow or arrows with him, only a small knife in his belt, and even though he was a good warrior, wolf packs were good too. Alone, he might not be able to survive against them, and he wasn't arrogant enough to try. His muscles strained to keep up with the other- the bigger male was a good two feet taller and a foot and a half of that was all leg, so it was damned hard to stay with him. Upon reaching a river, the orange one slowed himself first to a canter, then a trot, then a walk, and finally came to a stop once he'd splashed through to the other side of the river, the water obviously cooling him. Grimmjow followed his example, drawing up beside the other one breathless and overheated, though feeling better for his dunk in the cold river. Lightly shaking some water from his coat, he gave the bigger male a glance and found questioning amber eyes on him. He fidgeted uncomfortably, waiting for the stranger to speak, but he remained silent. Instead, he stepped closer to press right up against the smaller male, an intimidation tactic used by stallions when a strange stallion challenged them for their herd. Confused, Grimmjow stepped back, his body submissively declaring he was making no such challenge. The other's orange brows furrowed, obviously confused, and he crossed his arms over his chest. Why wouldn't he speak? Grimmjow would understand his question then!
"I don't know what you're asking," he spoke, voice gravelly after his long run, "you have to ask me out loud." The stranger backed up immediately, head tossing angrily, and growled at him. It wasn't even a human-like growl, which centaurs were known to make, but a growl that sounded exactly like it came from the throat of an angry wolf. Grimmjow's hair stood on end. I'm sorry! he tried to say with his body, because human speech apparently upset the larger, and he heard the angry stomping stop. It seemed that he'd gotten his message across. The growl came again, this time more like a threat than anything, and a hot hand clamped around his upper arm in a grip that was just shy of bruising. He winced, but didn't dare object, and followed docilely when the other started pulling him along. For the first time since he'd outgrown his brothers to become the fastest and strongest, he was genuinely afraid. This male was bigger, stronger, and faster than him, and unlike most had no visible dislike of killing. Further, he seemed to hate human speech for some reason, and Grimmjow couldn't help wishing he hadn't opened his damned mouth. The other had been treating him more or less well before he's spoken, more as a curiosity than anything else, but now he was being treated like a very serious and dangerous threat. He normally wanted to be considered a threat so he was less likely to be attacked, but in this case he would prefer to have stayed a mere curiosity. The big male pulled up short, Grimmjow with him. The blue centaur was pointed towards a field where several others were lazily lounging, and a sharp slap to his rump propelled him toward them.
He managed to slow down and stop after reaching the center of the clearing, circling around in confusion to figure out why the hell he'd been forced to come here, but the orange male had disappeared like he was never there. Even more confused, he looked at the centaurs around him, recognizing after a moment that he recognized them from another local herd that was more or less blood-feuding with his. Worried that they, too, would consider him a threat, he cautiously began to back up. A small, black-haired female he remembered once getting hard in the gut with his clawed hand noticed him and reared in fury. "Arrancar! How dare you invade our secret place? How did you find us here?" He danced away from her, careful not to back into one of the others. "I didn't! The orange-haired male-" A red centaur he dimly remembered as Ren-something, Renji maybe, snarled at him. "Ichigo would not associate himself with the likes of you, Arrancar. Do not dare use him in your lies!" Grimmjow growled back, angry. Warrior, Hunter, and bastard he may be, but he was not and had never been a liar. "I do not lie, Shinigami scum, not even to an enemy! The orange-haired male with the long mane and the biggest centaur I've ever seen in my life was being attacked by wolves and I went to help. They spooked and bolted when they saw me, as he'd already killed one of 'em. He gave me a nod and then bolted himself, and I was startled so I followed. It had triggered my herd instinct. He came to a stop after crossing a river and I asked him what was wrong, but he became highly agitated and upset once I'd spoken. He grabbed me by the arm and forced me over here, and I don't even know why because he wouldn't speak."
He shifted uncomfortably, and added to the small female, "By the way, I'm sorry about hurtin' ya so bad that one time, but ya were tryin' ta kill me an' my brothers and it was the middle of a battle, so what could I do? It wasn't personal. I left my herd anyways, the Herd Leader treats everybody other than Gin and Tousen like shit if they ain't a mindless zombie that obeys him without question." Hearing something snap behind him, he whirled and found just what he'd hoped he'd never see- the Execution Squad. Five of the most brutal killers in the herd that went and tracked down anyone who left or was banished to 'clean up the mess'. "Shit." His older brother Nnoitra headed the squad, and he approached first. "Oi Grimm! Stupid thing you done, leavin' right in front of Pops. You know he don't take rejection well." He crossed his arms over his bare chest, cursing that he'd left all his weapons behind when he'd stormed out of their home clearing. "Yeah, yeah, I wasn't gonna let him use me as a bargaining tool and get married off to some stranger for an alliance. I will not let him treat me like a boar tusk, to be traded and bartered and discarded when it has no more use!" The overly-tall-and-skinny centaur laughed. "I don't blame ya, little brother. The boys an' I, "he jerked his head at his subordinates,"will tell Pops the wolf pack got ya. With none of yer weapons, he'll believe that. An' here- I brought ya Pantera and your huntin' stuff." The stunned blue-haired centaur caught them as they were tossed, hooking the bow on his shoulder where it always rested and reverently tying his prized sword at his hip. "I… thanks, Nnoitra. Yer a good brother." They shook hands, and Nnoitra tossed his head casually. "I hate Pops way more than I hate you, so you don't gotta worry about me. Y'know, I heard there's a wild herd out in this area somewhere…guess the Leader don't speak at all and hates hearin' it. There's supposed to be a path near the waterfall…good luck, Grimmjow."
Grimmjow gave him another nod of thanks and took off. He couldn't join any of the other local herds or Aizen, their father, would know Nnoitra had lied when he saw Grimmjow was alive. He needed to hide, and a wild herd would be exactly what he needed. Armed this time, he feared no wolves or boars, and carefully traced a nearly-invisible path from beside the waterfall to a well-hidden clearing that was protected on all sides by ten-foot thorn bushes that produced a sweet-smelling, velvet-petaled red flower. You'd never make it past those thick, thorny hedges unless you found the small opening the path led to. Upon entering, he found himself face-to-face with the orange male from earlier, and he nearly backed right out of the clearing again when the saw the thunderous expression the bigger centaur was wearing. "Easy, easy," he murmured, hands open to show he had no ready weapon, his stance deferential to the other, "I've been banished from my herd and wanted to join yours. My Herd Leader wants to kill me." The other stared hard at him for a moment more, then huffed. "Very well," his smooth baritone said softly, "come meet the others." Grimmjow happily followed behind him to meet the rest of his new Herd. There were two little twin girls and a mated pair that introduced themselves as Ichigo's mother and father, his mother having the same distinct orange hair he did. The girls, though twins, were of opposing personalities, the younger twin as sweet as their mother and with bright strawberry-blond hair, the elder twin rough-and-tumble like her brother and father with dark black hair that shone in the sunlight. Grimmjow was welcomed warmly, and he couldn't help the wide, joyful smile that wouldn't leave his lips. He'd never felt so at home before in his life, and he was happy to be accepted for once.
Ichigo, carefully monitoring the stranger's interactions with his family, decided the male's intentions were pure and joined the rest, giving his new friend a small but genuine smile in return that he would later learn stole the blue male's breath with its beauty.
Hard
Sitting up in bed, irritated beyond belief, Ichigo was staring with a twitching orange eyebrow at the tent in his lap. "Look," he growled at it, "I'm perfectly happy to see you're in working order and all, but no way am I touching you. I refuse to jack off an erection I got from a wet dream I had about my best friend's husband." The tent twitched insistently at the memory of the dream. His eyebrow twitched again in response. "No." Completely ignoring it now, he flopped back to the bed and threw an arm over his eyes. Twenty minutes later, completely exasperated, he cursed teenage hormones that had grabbed his body late in life and crept one hand under blankets and boxers to gently caress the tightened flesh. It being the first time in years he'd touched himself like this, his hardness jolted at the heat of his hand. He hissed, almost drew his hand back because he was just too sensitive, but gritted his teeth and wrapped his hand all the way around and pulled. No, it was just too damn much, it hurt more than it felt good. He wasn't doing this. Thoroughly irritated, he threw the blankets off and stripped down to bare skin- he was going to go take a cold shower. "Oi Shinigami- Oh. Um, bad time?" Ichigo buried his face in his hands, blushing red to the roots of his hair. "Yes, Grimmjow, it's a bad time. You choose the worst times possible to come pick a fight with me, you realize that? Honestly, almost every single time you catch me naked." Where he perched on the windowsill, Grimmjow grinned sheepishly. "Just yer bad luck, I guess."
Ichigo raised an eyebrow at him, grabbing one of his thin summer sheets and dragging it over his lap in a semblance of modesty. "And it's only my bad luck, not yours?" Grimmjow face changed then, his expression one Ichigo had never seen before. It seemed almost…embarrassed. "Well uh…ya know we Hollows don't make much distinction between genders…so really…as far as I'm concerned, it's damn good luck tha' I almost always catch ya nekkid." The teen tried not to be disturbed by this discovery and found it wasn't as hard as it might have been to accept. "Well, I'm nevertheless going to take a cold shower, so unless you're willing to wait about an hour, you'll have to come back another day." Grimmjow blue brows drew together as he frowned confusedly. "Ya mean…ya ain't gonna take care o' that? Yer just gonna ignore it an' make it go away?" Ichigo snorted. "I'm too sensitive to be touched- it hurts to be touched there- so yeah, I'm gonna ignore it." Another new expression from Grimmjow- this time a suggestive leer. "Mebbe I can help ya out, Shinigami." Against his better sense, Ichigo let his head tilt to the side and his eyes fall half-lidded. "Maybe…my shower's big enough for two, I think…if you'd like to propose any ideas." Then he dropped the sheet and deliberately sashayed out the door and down the hall to the bathroom, each movement putting his body on display. Like he thought, it took only a few seconds to realization to reach Grimmjow's stunned brain and quick footsteps followed him.
During later experimentation with this budding sexual relationship, Ichigo would figure out a sure-fire way to get Grimmjow hard instantly and in some cases randy enough to take orders with no protest. All he had to do was get unbearably aroused himself- when he got aroused, hard or not, he released heavy hormones and pheromones that always drove Grimmjow crazy. As a result, Grimmjow found himself having an almost continual erection around Ichigo, because seeing the blue-haired Arrancar always made Ichigo have a spike of lust from remembering the things said Arrancar did to him in the dead of night. "But you made me hard!" became the panther's favorite excuse to persuade the teen (and, funnily enough, that pathetic protest usually worked) for some time in the sheets.