101. Alien
Grimmjow couldn't believe this- he could not believe it. He had been shipped off to this backwater little planet with virtually no interstellar traffic simply because some hotshot looking to make a fast trillion had gone and shot him in the shoulder. Then, one of the strange-smelling crystal creatures he occasionally saw flitting around the island had come out of nowhere and tranquilized him before he had a chance to get more than a few mouthfuls of the thing that had shot him and dragged him off to a containment of some kind. He was just as quickly brought here to get him fully healed because apparently he was one of the last seven or possibly ten Pantaourus left in existence. Despite being a little backwater planet, this place also supposedly had the best creature medical facilities for galaxies around, thus why he was here. He'd been transported to an impossibly deep pit with sides higher than most trees that were made out of a strange stone that he couldn't climb (which of course severely pissed him off- it was the first thing he'd ever discovered that he couldn't climb one way or another). He wasn't alone though, and that was a small comfort. He'd been alone so long he'd almost forgotten what anything that wasn't prey or plant looked like. There was a pretty creature that looked a lot like himself one pit over, though he was spotted and a bit smaller. He wasn't full sized by any means yet, though, so he guessed they'd be roughly the same size when full grown. There was a weird clear barrier between their pits that they could talk through, and though he could probably break the barrier if he tried he was trying to keep out of trouble so he could go home sooner.
The pretty male was splayed out on a rock in the sun at the moment, his eyes closed and a soft purr barely audible through the barrier. He was hurt too, one of his ears shredded and his face clawed on that side, his tail broken and his back left leg wrapped. He looked like he'd been trounced by about four adult males at once, and he didn't move around much because he always limped when he had to walk. Grimmjow tapped the barrier with his paw pad softly to get the pretty male's attention. "Hello." The uninjured ear twitched and the scarred eye lazily flicked open. "Hello yourself. Panther?" The bigger male's ears half-flattened in confusion. "I…don't know what that means. My name is Grimmjow, and the things that brought me here said I was something called a Pantaourus. What's a 'panther'?" The eye shut again. "This world's version of your species. Black cats about my size. My name is Ichigo. I'm a leopard." Curling his tail around him, Grimmjow lay down on his side of the barrier, moving gingerly to account for his shoulder. "What happened to you? You look like you got thrashed." "I was," the yellowish cat replied, his whiskers pressing inward angrily as he bared his teeth, "by ten males in territories around mine because I had the most hunting land. They knew they couldn't take me one-on-one so they teamed up and took me by surprise. I suppose a hunter got you?" Grimmjow nodded. They didn't talk again for some time; their next contact was because they had been placed in the same containment area, a flimsy metal barrier with many holes in it the only thing that separated them. Grimmjow could've torn it apart with one claw as easily as he would gut a Timoron. Ichigo was no longer limping and Grimmjow was almost completely healed, though they were keeping him until he could hunt again.
"I see you're well on the way to being back to normal." Ichigo paused in his washing at the comment, turning the scarred side of his face to look at Grimmjow searchingly. "Yes. You look…well." Grimmjow batted at the metal barrier, then dropped his front and raised his rear as his tail swished playfully. "I feel good. Think we can get the non-furred prey to let us into the same pit? I want to play and you're the only other felid I know." Ichigo backed away, ears flattening uneasily and Grimmjow rose to a normal stance, confused. "If you want to play, bat at the grass or the walls and the hairless apes will give you non-living toys to play with. I don't play." More confused, Grimmjow checked Ichigo's scent- yeah, he was still young enough to enjoy playing with others. Why didn't he want to? Rubbing his body along the flimsy metal, he watched with sharp eyes as Ichigo backed up further, claws unsheathing, ears flattening, tail pressing flat along his side and his lips drawing back to bare his teeth as he hissed and spat. All of it was highly aggressive, preparing for a fight. Backing up obediently, the larger cat guessed Ichigo probably still felt vulnerable because Grimmjow was more healed than he was and thus more powerful. He decided his next approach would be highly passive and as nonthreatening as possible. To his luck, that came the very next sun-time.
The non-furred prey (had Ichigo called them hairless apes?) had just gotten in a bunch more hurt animals, and since Grimmjow had been completely nonaggressive so far he was put in the same pit as Ichigo and two other cats temporarily. One was smaller than Ichigo and had long, thin legs but a really long tail and strange spot markings with two black tracks from it's eyes to it's mouth, and the other looked exactly like Ichigo but white in color. The smaller one was called a 'Cheetah' and his name was Ulquiorra, and the white one was called Shiro. Ulquiorra was the most apathetic creature he'd ever known, and didn't cause trouble, but Shiro was an aggressive pain in the ass and he made Ichigo tremble when he got close. It was after he got too close that Grimmjow found out Ichigo trembled not with fear, but with aggression of his own. Shiro was brutally dominated in a flash of blood and claws and teeth and fur, and his submission was absolute when offered and accepted. Grimmjow, having scented the blood this brought when Ichigo's wounds were strained, approached cautiously, head low and ears flat, tail straight out, creeping forward on his belly to show he meant no harm. Ichigo's hackles were up, but he was sitting more or less calmly, his tail-tip the only thing that betrayed his suspicion. He let Grimmjow approach and they met peacefully, mouths open to take in each other's scents, and after a moment of examination they touched noses for an instant and then broke contact. The off-world feline purred (it was rare, he knew, that felid creatures performed that last move with anyone outside the immediate family- it was way too risky because it exposed your vulnerable throat) and licked the blood from the yellow cat's muzzle.
Having established this trust, letting Ichigo lick him back, he quickly moved on to bathe the smaller male's wounds with his tongue. For some reason he didn't want to examine too closely, he didn't like knowing Ichigo was bleeding. He normally relished the smell of blood, but the smell of Ichigo's somehow offended him on a deep, instinctual level. He didn't bother questioning it. Ichigo reacted favorably to this, merely yawning and cleaning Grimmjow in return, establishing a friendship, before laying on the sun-warmed stone and going to sleep. He enjoyed that display of trust and lowered his body next to Ichigo, feeling Shiro and Ulquiorra surrounding them loyally. This felt…warm, and comforting…it felt like his pride had before his father had abandoned him in the forest to be eaten by wolves. Fucker. Grimmjow was a magnificent specimen of his species and this had been visible even as a cub, so his father had clawed the shit out of him and tossed him into wolf territory to get him killed and/or eaten to remove him as a threat to the other dominant male. Since it had been a female that found him, her pup in her mouth as she fled what was probably another pack's territory, he'd been incredibly lucky; seeing as the other wolves had killed her other four pups, she'd been unable to bear leaving him to fend for his own food (if he survived the pack) when her own dugs hung heavy with more milk than she could feed her lone pup who was the runt of the litter. She'd slung him onto her shoulder and ordered him to hold on, taking him to safety and nursing him back to health, raising him as her own. He held a sort of pack instinct due to this.
When they woke, the earth cats found Grimmjow was gone- since he'd been healed, they guessed he had been taken back to his own planet. Eventually, they were brought out to the savannah they came from and released. By this time, Ulquiorra and Shiro had become his pride, and when he went to reclaim his territory both fought like demons at his side. The ten weakling males were sent far, far away, their territories claimed so all three would have ample room to hunt. Ulquiorra was the first to do it. Rather than dragging his kill beneath a bush to gorge on it as was customary, he brought it back home- or rather, the tree the three shared as a sleeping place. He'd already eaten his portion, of course, but he'd brought them his kill. This would be understandable if one of them was sick or injured and couldn't hunt for themselves, but all were perfectly healthy and hunting for themselves was easy. Ulquiorra began doing it with all of his kills, and after perhaps a quarter-moon Ichigo followed suit. Shiro, completely subservient to Ichigo, naturally followed Ichigo's example. It was Shiro who made the next change- bringing home his kill without eating his portion first. It stemmed from his total submission to Ichigo- now that they were sharing kills, to him it felt wrong to eat before his Leader. Ichigo, flattered immensely by this, began to do the same, and Ulquiorra was only a day behind. At that point it was agreed that whoever had brought the kill got the first bite and the other two would join him at the kill, all three eating at the same time.
It had been Ichigo who initiated the final phase that separated them from all other cats. Having observed that the wild dogs could bring down much bigger and stronger prey than any of them could have taken on alone, he spoke of this to his pride-mates and suggested they try it. It took nearly a moon phase, and many missed prey animals, but eventually they learned how to take down big-horns like the lions did, even the occasional long-nose calf. The majority of their strategies revolved around coupling Ichigo's brute strength with Ulquiorra's speed and with Shiro laying in wait should the pair fail to bring it down. They had just finished their meal one day when a large feline appeared at the edge of the clearing; a threatening growl echoed from the cat, which was revealed by a change in the wind to be a lion. The small pride closed ranks and snarled as one. If they were lucky, it would be a lone adolescent male looking to take their territory, but if it they were not…even as strong as they were, they probably couldn't take on a pride of lions. Those lionesses were way better than the three-male pride when it came to attacking as a group. Things were not looking good as eight lionesses emerged from behind the dominant male, and ears slicked back, tails curling inward as claws unsheathed and hisses and spits began to fill the air. Before the battle could really begin, a roar startled all present into flight- the lions back onto the savannah, and the three males up their tree. Though lions and leopards also called and roared, this was infinitely louder than anything they'd ever heard and was wrapped in a death threat they dare not provoke. It almost didn't sound like an Earth animal. As a matter of fact, it wasn't. It had been roughly two monsoons ago that they met and formed their pride, leaving them ample time to fully mature- even the otherworldly feline they had once known for a short time in the healing place.
Grimmjow stalked from the underbrush to the base of the tree. Having reached his mature size of eight hundred Earth pounds, six feet of height, and ten feet in length (not including his tail) he was almost three times the size of his former companions and an impressive specimen even among his own kind. Naturally, this meant he was more or less King of the Savannah- a deadly predator the size of a fast-hoof-prey (the non-furred prey called them a strange word, 'HOR-sss') was not only visibly intimidating, but physically extremely strong and fast. He had picked up a familiar scent trail and tracked it to find the beautiful cat he'd lost when he escaped the healing place. He was happy to be healed and all, but they were going to send him back to his planet, where he was always lonely and hunting was hard, and the only others of his kind answered to the father that tried to kill him. He needed to stay here, even if he didn't truly belong. Having scared off the lions, he approached the base of the tree with hopefully perked ears, tail swishing, and called quietly. After a tense moment, he heard three low voices call back and Ichigo thudded to the ground, tail half-raised in wary welcome and Shiro and Ulquiorra following right behind him. Thoroughly pleased, he dropped his entire body down and nuzzled the much smaller cats happily, purring the entire time as he licked and rubbed against them. Still a little cautious around something as big as him, they rubbed back.
It took very little time to acclimate to having Grimmjow in their group; while he was obviously an Alpha male, Grimmjow was the youngest and thus chose to defer to Ichigo since the other two already did so. It wasn't actually necessary for him to obey anyone seeing as he was the biggest, strongest, and fastest, but he was young and he didn't know nearly as much as Ichigo seemed to- any question he had, Ichigo could answer, even if he had a bit of trouble explaining things properly sometimes. For instance, once mating season arrived and Grimmjow, who hadn't been mature enough to be pulled into the season during previous years, started to question what the hell was wrong with his body. Ichigo's explanation went badly for a few moments as he didn't know the words to describe mating, so after a while he got frustrated, instructed Grimmjow to follow him, and went out and gave a very graphic demonstration. And when Grimmjow inquired if males could mate other males, answered with an affirmative and an affectionate chuff of breath. It was during this first mating season together that it was discovered Grimmjow could adjust his size to suit the situation- anywhere from his natural fast-hoof-prey size to the size of a cub. This proved to be very useful when he wanted to actually mate with a cat that was much smaller than his natural size. And so the alien began to learn properly all the things he would need to know to pretend to be an Earth creature.
Prince
He really, really hadn't expected to get stranded in the middle of a forest during his diplomatic mission to Keeva. He was a desert man, he didn't know how to survive in a goddamn forest! His worthless legs had given out on him, too unused to the sturdy dirt after being raised on giving sand, though he handled the hills easily thanks to the countless dunes he'd been climbing up and down since he was a child. Laid out on his side, he heard a low, feline growl, and looked around to see what. An angry, flat-eared feline, he thought it was called a bob-cat, was snarling from the edge of the clearing, claws unsheathed and fangs bared. He huffed. "Dunno what yer problem is, bu' if I'm in yer land I'm sorry, bu' I can't move." It hissed, and something small and furry rubbed up against his sides, outstretched arms, and face. Raising his eyes to his arms, he discovered why the bigger cat was so incensed- her kittens were all over Grimmjow, mewing and purring happily. Still too weak to move, he just laughed and let them climb on him like a sand dune, twitching his fingers slightly to rub one of the shyer kits behind the ear.
The mother approached slowly, anxious about her kits but wary of the Big Strange Thing that smelled like the Hot Deathplace, even though It hadn't moved. She was nervous, but more concerned for the kits cavorting around It's legs and belly. If It felt threatened by them, it could easily crush them with it's Big body. Worse, It was a dominant male, and if It decided to take over her territory she would probably have to submit to him. It seemed content for the moment, however, rustily purring return greetings to her bravest kit, who was dangerously close to it's open mouth, sharp teeth just visible behind parted lips. Another kit leaped on It's hip, slipping down to It's stomach and digging in his claws for traction, making It wince. Slowly, and mindful of the other kits, It bent up and around, making her unsheathe her claws in preparation to get It's deadly teeth away from her kit, opened It's mouth and- nudged him off It's belly with a low thrum of amusement. Then it rolled onto It's front, using one of It's oddly-shaped forelegs to push the kits clear, and laboriously got up onto all fours. All It's bones cracked as it did, and the kits all sat right where they were, ears straight up in fascination. They'd never heard that sound before. Straightening up onto the middle joint of It's backward-bending legs, It arched out, making it's spine make a lot of cracks and pops one after the other, and brought It's body more back until It's long back legs were splayed out in front and It's back was against a tree, forelegs hanging oddly alongside It's body instead of in front of It's shoulders. It's backwards leg joints folded, bringing It's legs into a strange crossed position, forepaws coming to brace themselves in front of them. The kits, delighted with the strange ways their new friend could bend, immediately began exploring It again.
Grimmjow closed his eyes to ease his headache and leaned more of his weight against the tree. The kits were literally all over him, pawing, licking, and nipping at him, but he didn't mind; they were just curious. Though they spoke a slightly different dialect than Panther, he could understand them well enough.
"Mama, why do his legs bend backwards?"
"He doesn't have any fur except on his head! And where on earth are his ears?"
"He's really warm, mama, how is he warm like sunbeams?"
"He smells like the Hot Deathplace, mama. Did he go there and come back?
"No, it smells more like he came FROM it. Does anything live in the Hot Deathplace?"
"Maybe. There's another smell too, almost…almost like OURS, mama, but different. Bigger. And meaner."
"That," Grimmjow rumbled softly from deep in his chest, "is because when I want to be, I AM bigger and meaner, and black, but a whole lot like you. My tail's much longer, though." The kits squealed in surprise, one clawing his shoulder, at his abrupt speech in their tongue. He peeled open one blue eye with a grin, though he was careful not to show his teeth (that would be a threat display). "Wanna see?" The kits scrambled off to give him room, wide-eyed and ears perked, and he let the transformation steal up his body, coming out the other side as a beautiful back panther, two small blue eye markings nearly hidden in his fur the only indication he wasn't a regular one. He was one of the rare children chosen to be blessed by the Panther God, and he had received that blessing in full. The Panther God was the protector of their desert tribe, and those lucky enough to be blessed by Him were those who were meant to lead the tribe. Such appointments to leadership were usually only required when an avertable great tragedy was due to come (as opposed to an unavoidable great tragedy, such as pestilence or a flood, which could be stopped by no man). Thus why Grimmjow was trying to navigate his way through the forest to speak to the King and Prince of the neighboring kingdom to forge a peaceful alliance- there had been many skirmishes on the border lately, and he wanted to halt things before it became a full-fledged war. The kingdom had superior firepower and greater numbers, but the tribe could use absolutely every aspect of the desert and the creatures in it to their advantage, and no matter who won, it would be devastating for both sides, and whatever was left wouldn't be worth defending when another, even stronger nation decided to start a campaign against them while they were weak and recovering.
However, this form seemed far better suited to the landscape, and he was resting anyway so it was permissible to play with a kits a little. He teased them with his tail, mostly, as they were so little his paws were bigger than their entire bodies and he was afraid to touch them with anything else. They soon became sleepy and hungry however, and their mother called them back to the den for food and a nap. Alone now, he climbed back to his feet and began to lope, and found it was much, MUCH easier now. It was time to find the Prince he had come to see. Though not yet coroneted, the Prince was apparently running the kingdom as the King, after the Queen's death, had become indecisive and could not be trusted to run the day-to-day doings and was now only consulted for very serious matters. His best bet was the find the Prince out riding in the forest, which was his favorite activity when he was not busy ruling in his father's stead. He would know the Prince the second he saw him, Grimmjow had been informed by the liaison, because the young man's hair shone with the colors of sunlight and his horse was a pure white Arabian of the largest breed. An albino Arabain. Heh. Only a Prince would ride a creature so frivolous.
Said creature later proved not to be so frivolous as the Arabian lived up to the rumors of being the best kind of war-horse beneath an equally well-war-trained human as the Panther King dodged deadly sharp hoofs half the size of his head that moved in tandem with a swinging sword-tip to leave him pinned in from both sides and forced to run the way they were herding him if he didn't want to die. He was relieved indeed when the attacks ceased immediately upon his return to human form and the Prince offered a sincere apology for trying to drive him straight back into the desert after he spent almost a week struggling to reach Keeva in the first place.
103. Birthday
He honestly hadn't known what to expect. Had no idea at all. Least of all had he thought his lover would actually forget his birthday entirely. The night had progressed the way it usually did when he got home- he made dinner, greeted his blue-haired executive lover at the door with a kiss, ate, showered, and went to bed for a good fuck. Standing against the balcony and smoking a cigarette (he'd quite smoking last month, but fuck it he needed one right now), he sighed out silvery smoke and watched the large cloud separate into dozens of silvery strands that glowed in the moonlight. He couldn't be angry at him, not really, not with what Grimmjow had been going through at work lately. He wasn't even disappointed; it wasn't like he'd actually bothered to remind the overworked, stressed-out businessman, so what had he really expected? The man never remembered anything, not even to eat, how could he remember something as trivial as the date of his live-in-boyfriend's birthday? He scowled. More like live-in-boy-toy, really, he didn't do much else than cook and clean and let the man have his way with his body. Scowling much deeper now, reminded of the insecurities he'd been burying for almost a year and a half, he finished the cigarette and went to put it out in his customary way by grinding the cherry into the gnarled scar on the underside of his left wrist when abruptly a larger, paler hand grabbed his wrist. That hand's pair plucked the slowly burning filter from his fingers and ground it out on the balcony railing with such force it was nearing violence. "I thought ya quit."
Ichigo sighed deeply; it was just his luck to get caught. Grimmjow was adamant he quit, and had been since they'd gotten together. He hated the way Ichigo put them out, even if the burn scar was now beyond ever healing fully or regaining feeling. "Going cold turkey is hard." The blunet threaded their fingers together, silent, but Ichigo could feel the thunderous aura around him. "Ya smoke when yer stressed. Don' dodge me." Silently, he cursed the mans' perceptiveness. "Just some stupid thoughts again."
Grimmjow tried not to clench his teeth. "Just some stupid thoughts" had been what caused Ichigo to attempt to break up with him three times. And they had in the past increased him to a pack and a half a day- his wrist had been black-skinned with soot and burnt flesh for a month. It was still new-flesh pink right now, and he raised it to his mouth to kiss it. But Ichigo was a disturbingly closed-off person, and never talked about his insecurities or issues, he never said what he was thinking or what worried him. Shit, until he'd come home two hours late one night after a night dive (SCUBA-diving was a favorite activity when he was looking to de-stress) to find Ichigo curled on the couch with his pillow and a dirty t-shirt, eyes still red-rimmed from crying, he'd never known that Ichigo was terrified of him drowning on one of his dives. That was the first time he'd come to realize how much his lover kept to himself. Ichigo's mother drowned when he was eight while she was diving and her equipment failed; she had been a marine biologist studying the local reef (and Grimmjow had to find this out from Tatsuki, the only living soul Ichigo had told, while he was still shell-shocked and couldn't think to keep it secret). He'd never been late if he could help it when on a dive again. Ichigo had never told him because he didn't want to ask Grimmjow to change, he'd said, which was the only reason he hadn't stopped diving entirely. Since he didn't know Ichigo's squicks, he tried to tread softly.
"Come ta bed. You have the early shift tomorrow, don'tcha?" Ichigo sighed in relief that Grimmjow wasn't prodding for an explanation, but he knew it would come eventually. He wasn't a patient man, and he wouldn't consent to put up with Ichigo's 'stupid thoughts' for too much longer. He settled into his designated spot in the bed, the side closest to the door. He got up first in the morning, which was how they'd parceled out who slept where. Grimmjow wasn't one for contact during sleep; he'd kicked Ichigo clear out of the bed a couple of times. Abruptly, two big, warm arms wrapped around his waist and dragged him in, until he was pressed up against an equally big and warm chest, his head comfortably fit into the hollow beneath Grimmjow's chin. Ichigo sleepily smiled. He knew he'd end up back on the floor come morning, but he appreciated the attempt to comfort him.
It wasn't until he woke up alone and cold the next morning (as usual) and glanced at the calendar to check what day it was that he realized yesterday- which had a big black slash through it, Ichi did that every morning so Grimmjow would always know the date when he left the house- had a tiny red star in the corner, half covered by the black line. Ichigo used that symbol to mark personal event days, like a vacation, or an anniversary, or a…birthday. Fuck! How could he have forgotten Ichigo's birthday when it was the only time he was allowed to spoil his lover with everything he'd ever even glanced at with want over the year? Ichigo always used the other holidays to pamper Grimmjow to an obscene degree, so his birthday was the single time of year he could pay him back. He knew Ichigo had doubts- there were always doubts at the start of a relationship, and Ichigo being so withdrawn, they'd never talked them over and cleared them away. His birthday was his yearly day to assuage those doubts. Oh, this would not do, not at all, this had to be fixed, right fucking now! Flipping open his cell, he called in to work that he was using his sick day- and he was sick enough to his stomach to sound quite convincing- before getting on the horn to Ichigo's favorite, and exceedingly expensive, restaurant. He'd set up something magnificent for this weekend and use the excuse that he knew Ichigo wouldn't want to skip work and thus he waited for the man's day off to celebrate. Though he'd have to admit to forgetting to actually say 'happy birthday' on the day, and hopefully he'd be forgiven.
104. Power
When it came down to sheer power levels, Ichigo was stronger than Grimmjow, especially with his mask on. The only thing that made him weaker was his inability to harness and use that power; as a hollow struggling to survive, Grimmjow had learned to use every ounce and trickle of power available to him until there literally was nothing left. Still, Ichigo's ability to pull extra power seemingly out of his pores usually got him victory, and Grimmjow had realized recently it was a crude strategy, the only kind someone with as little control over their reiatsu as Ichigo could employ. He would match his power to his opponent's as closely as possible, then draw on extra power when his enemy had reached the end of his last ounce of strength and beat them into the ground. Now as Ichigo's more-or-less property, he stalked the currently powerless shinigami and grinned. As his reiatsu slowly built back up and he regained his abilities, Grimmjow would put him through his paces just the same way the panther had been put through his own. By the time he reached his former power levels and was Grimmjow's rightful Master again, he would know for a fact that Kurosaki would know how to use all that power of his properly. In the meantime, the panther would keep feeding him bits of his own reiatsu when nobody was looking to force his shinigami power to come back. It was working too- in order to fight off the invading reiatsu, Ichigo's sealed power would bust past the seal, weakening it more every time. Already he'd regained the ability to see spirits. It was only a matter of time, and Grimmjow had plenty of that. Kurosaki's power would rise again.
105. Petsitting
Finding his arms abruptly full of angry adult cat, Ichigo could barely register Yoruichi (the cat's owner) shouting a quick thanks as she bolted out the door and the young man struggled not to drop the cat on its' head. After five minutes and copious scratches and bites, he managed to locate the cat's scruff and suspend him by it, scowling at the little blue-gray monster that glared right back, body limp and paws submissively tucked in. He glanced down and found the supplies that apparently belonged to him- litter box, food and water dishes, and both dry and wet foods, along with a scratching post and a cat bed that looked as if it was rarely used. Ichigo blinked, looked back at the cat, and sighed. "You must be Grimmjow then. Yoruichi said you were intelligent, so I'm laying down the rules now. Don't cause me trouble. Don't break my things. Don't claw up my house. Don't piss anywhere other than your litter box, and don't shit anywhere else either. Stay out of the way while I get your stuff set up. If you break any rule, I will put you into the freezing cold basement and lock the door so you can't get out for at least an hour." No movement from the cat, but it's eyes gleamed, and he considered him suitably understanding of the rules, so he set him down on the floor and gathered up his stuff to start getting everything ready for his month-long visitor. Half an hour later, food and water bowls were filled, litter box was clean and full, scratching post was near a few toys he'd found in a bag in the living room, and he showed the cat the shady, out-of-the-way corner that housed the litter box so he'd know where it was. The books said you were supposed to do that.
The cat had more or less calmly trailed behind him the entire time, but as soon as he put his hands on his hips and declared himself done, the little demon attacked his ankles with all the viciousness of his bigger cousins. This continued over the day- bursts of nearly angelic behavior shortly followed by bouts of absolutely devilish acts. After a while, he caught on. That cat was exceptionally smart- the 'good' behavior was when there was a rule that would have been otherwise broken, and the 'bad' things he did were all things Ichigo had never forbidden him to do. It was amazing, truly. And when Ichigo very sternly and seriously told him to wait a while, the cat did so, and came around to check on him about thirty minutes later. If he was finished with whatever task he'd been attending to, the cat promptly jumped up and clawed him for attention, and if he hadn't the tom would turn around and leave to check on him again another half hour later. It was almost eerie how intelligent he was. Things didn't change until it was time for bed. The moment he announced he was shutting down the house for sleep, the cat streaked off somewhere. He found out the cat had commandeered his spare pillow when he got into bed himself, and was curled up as if he'd been laying there for hours, the deep rumble of a contented purr echoing around the room.
In two weeks' time, they'd successfully acclimated to each other. The tomcat, Grimmjow as Yoruichi had named him, now knew all the workings and habits of the man with sun-hair like he knew the taste of his own fur. He had a certain scent when he wasn't to be bothered, and he didn't mind pain, didn't even seem to notice it really, so he was free to claw the human up as much as he liked. And did he claw him up! There wasn't a patch of available skin on the human that wasn't marked by his claws- well, except for his pretty brown eyes and, of course, his genitals. No matter how mean he was feeling, he'd never put his claws there, not even on the prissy show cat Aizen who thought he was a God. Fuckin' Abyssinians. Just because the humans in Egypt had been stupid enough to worship that particular breed centuries ago…no matter, he'd still never claw anybody there. Not even Aizen. He could nap when he wanted and where (except for on top of the human's head, which was a rather soft ready-made nest; the sun-haired one didn't stay still long enough unless he was settling down for the Nesting Time After Dark) and was allowed free run of the house as long as he obeyed the rules, which he was careful of because this was not his own territory. Besides, changing into his bigger form wouldn't even help if he was put into the cold-stone Underground Den for misbehaving, and while exploring down there to find spiders, flies, and the occasional mouse to hunt was fun, being trapped there for a long time with the coldness biting at his sensitive pw pads would be horrible.
He hadn't been put down there yet, but while stupider cats may have written off the human's threat as nothing more than a puff-display, he knew the human had been very serious. It hadn't been a threat- it had been a neutral warning. When the sun-human said he was going to do something, especially something in relation to others, he damn well did it. He'd tested this when the human had been doing something with the clicky-stone, the one that was attached to the flat, portable picture box. The human had given him fair warning that if he went walking over the stone, which he called a "kii-boord", that the human would pick him up and banish him to the kitchen until he was done. Grimmjow had walked on the stone, and his paws had barely hit four clicky things (the "kiis", apparently) when he was picked up, carried, put in the kitchen, and the door closed. A nap-worth of time later, the door opened once again the flat picture box and attached clicky-stone had been put away, indicating the much larger being had finished using it. Over the course of the half-moon the human had thus earned his respect, even if it did irritate him sometimes when he wanted to nap or play with the human and he was busy with some other obligation. What he hated the most though, was when he went away. Sometimes, during the day, he would change his normal, comfortable furs for stained, ragged ones that looked like they'd been through a bad fight, and whenever he did that, he left the territory.
He would come back smelling of sweat and pain and usually frustration as well, dirty and tired, furs even more ragged and stained than they had started. Even washing the furs in the Metal Rumbling Box didn't get them fully clean, though at least they didn't stink afterward, and the human would have to wash his furless, vulnerable body in the Warm Rain with the scented stuff that rinsed away all other scent, both good and bad. Sometimes he would even have to go through the whole thing twice in a day! The biggest problem was it seemed the Sun-hair was unable to avoid or refuse this thing he left to do, and there was no way to know when he would be leaving or, when he left, how long it would take him to return. Sometimes, he left in the morning, and he might be back after the span of a nap or he could take half the day. If he left at night, usually either he came back quickly or didn't come back at all until after the next sunrise. Grimmjow hated the uncertainty. It left his territory unguarded, except for Grimmjow, for long spans of time, and it made his human tired and weak for a while until he could recuperate. His old human didn't do that- she left at the same time every morning and returned every night at the same time, as predictable as the rising and setting of the sun unless there was sickness or an emergency. Still, he could be comfortable here. This new human took care of him well, let him do most of the things he wanted and even gave him affection.
Entering the third week, he had noticed that the cat had become much more affectionate and cuddly than he had started out. Oh, he still scratched and bit when he was displeased, but now he often draped himself over Ichigo's leg or shoulders, even curled in his lap to knead and purr as he napped. He even stopped snarling when Ichigo showed signs of forgetting his appointed mealtime, instead usually choosing to climb onto his shoulder and nip at his ear or cheek until he got up and gave him his daily ration of wet food. The cat hadn't stopped sleeping in his hair, but he figured that was a sign of affection for this particular cat, and let it be. At the end of the month, when Yoruichi came to retrieve her cat and take him back to his rightful home, the human was sad to see him go and the cat, by all appearances, did not want to leave. He hid and ran, and when caught he yowled and scratched and bit with vehemence never before displayed as he was put into a carrier and the door latched securely closed. The carrier itself now bore some pretty nasty claw marks and holes punched by angry teeth, and once he realized he wouldn't be escaping pitiful cries replaced the snarls and hisses, occasionally rising into a mournful yowl not unlike the howl of a dog. As the purple-haired woman collected the rest of the supplies and put them in her car, Ichigo hefted the carrier up into his lap and bent so Grimmjow could see his face through the bars. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "but you were never mine. I'm not allowed to-" his voice broke, "to keep you. I'll miss you, Grimmjow."
The cat used his claws to cling to the bars. 'Grimmjow', that was his name, wasn't it? Sun-human never used his name, just called him 'cat', because he was the only other living creature in the house. Mewing his sadness at being forced to leave, because he was only put into this portable prison when he had to leave and didn't want to, he licked the only available part of his human- his nose. Why had his old human returned after abandoning him, he didn't understand, but he knew from what his new human said she would be his human again. He would lose the sun-haired male. "I hate to see you go, but I knew it would happen," he whispered, and suddenly Grimmjow understood- the human had never actually been his. He was just the replacement, the kitten-watcher, who took the female human's place while she was gone visiting her own kittens. The past moon would be all they got. His nose twitched at the smell of salt, and he spied the Sad Water glistening in the sun-human's eyes for an instant before it was gone. He was strong, and never let the Sad Water spill. Then he straightened and took a strengthening breath as his Woman Cat human took his prison and loaded him into the moving box on wheels. Sinking his claws into the blanket his Sun Human was kind enough to line the prison with, Grimmjow laid down stiffly and curled his tail along his side. He would find a way back to his Sun Human, one way or another. Even if he had to go out the squirrel-hole in the roof and make his way across the whole damned world, he would get back to that house and that man.
106. Adolescent (Sequel to Child)
By the time Ichigo and Grimmjow were into their teens, they were nearly inseparable. Grimmjow was still loud and tended to talk for Ichigo, but that was alright because Ichigo was still quiet and didn't like to talk, and the pair knew each other well enough that they could accurately speak for each other. They hung out together, had lunch and classes together, and worked together too. Any objections were soon vehemently overridden; when they tried to separate them in classes Ichigo became three times as withdrawn, so quiet and still you had to look long and hard to be sure he was even breathing, even his writing silent rather than the scratch of pencil on paper, and when Grimmjow found out, all his classes were promptly abandoned while he instead went to Ichigo's, glued to the introspective teen's side. Ichigo didn't talk for three months after that, and Grimmjow had been extra loud to make up for it- the school didn't try to separate them again. When it came to work, they only ever applied to places that had two positions open, and if one got the job and the other didn't, the position was promptly turned down. At work, they didn't mind taking different positions as long as they weren't very far apart in case they needed each other. Attempts by bosses to separate them resulted in either immediate quitting or fits of violent destruction of property that only Ichigo could calm Grimmjow from before he started to hurt people. Their parents had seen the results of others, and didn't think anything wrong with their closeness that resembled twins, and so never tried to intervene.
The only thing they didn't do together was date. Neither of them dated the same person, nor did they go on dates together or even separately take their dates to the same place. Their styles of dating were also radically different. Ichigo, around the end of middle school, had quietly gotten together with his other childhood friend Chad, and had been dating him ever since, now nearing graduation. Grimmjow, on the other hand, dated someone new every week and had been in a relationship with most of the school (and at least a quarter of the faculty) at one time or another and didn't seem to have a preference. Unknown to Ichigo, Grimmjow warned anyone he dated the same way- it would only last one week, because he always knew he was going to marry someone else someday and was trying to get all the 'wild' out of his system and find out how to handle people, what he wanted in a relationship, and the things one had to do to make a relationship work before he settled so it would be a success. And while he never stated it explicitly, everyone knew the 'one' he intended to marry in the future was Ichigo. Chad and Ichigo had their own understandings on the situation and had come to an agreement a long time ago. Ichigo was a loyal person if nothing else, and Chad had agreed to never becoming physical with their relationship, that being saved for Grimmjow. Kissing and cuddling was as far as they went. They were close though, and while they had never planned the relationship to be permanent it was lasting very well. Grimmjow never knew that he was in that relationship as a permanent third- their relationship revolved around his relationship with Ichigo.
Ichigo, being the withdrawn individual he was, waited for Grimmjow to approach him seriously. They had a way of doing things where they kissed and touched, much like he did with Chad, but nothing was official. It didn't 'count'. So Ichigo waited, making himself happy with Chad in the meantime. He waited, in fact, right up until the week after graduation when Grimmjow got down on one knee in a restaurant where he'd taken Cirucci Thunderwitch (who was the only person he'd dated more than once; they'd been having an on-again-off-again relationship since early middle school) and asked her to marry him. She said yes.
Grimmjow realized the rules had changed when, newly married at nineteen, Ichigo refused his lips and his hands for the first time in their young lives. He had known Ichi and the rest of the world took things like marriage seriously, but not that seriously, not with such high rates of divorce. It was only at that point that he began to suspect his practicing had gone too far and it would no longer be considered practice; the world, and more importantly, Ichigo, now considered him serious and settled.
Adolescence was a bitch.
107. Confusion
This was what human war was. A mass of death, blood, screaming, and confusion. And the spirits left behind, it was all so fucked up. Ichigo hadn't gotten any real rest since he'd started his tour three years ago and been shipped out to the front lines. He'd moved to America to escape all that had happened in the war he'd fought, only to find his new home threatened. Being the warrior he was, how could he not have fought? Human war was much crueler and messier than a spiritual one- at least there hadn't been many corpses in the last war. Hollows dissolved back into spirit particles that condensed in soul society as the original souls, and most of the downed soul reapers were either eaten or revived before they could die. The remaining bodies soon dissolved into spirit particles when the soul was reborn, though they were given funerals and buried for the comfort and closure of the survivors. Ichigo had been lucky that time- he had not been expected to help with the cleanup, and (miraculously) nobody he knew or cared about had died. Even if he'd temporarily lost his shinigami powers, even if Aizen had threatened all he knew and killed hundreds, that first war had been quick, clean, and resulted in minor losses.
In this new war he was fighting, nothing was sacred and no-one was spared. He was starting to become known among his allies as the Immortal, irritatingly enough, but he couldn't really blame them. Four times his unit had gone to the front and engaged the enemy directly, and four times he had been the only man to come back alive, though never unscathed. His left eye had been badly gouged, and the emergency surgery to try and repair it resulted in success in saving his vision- but with the side effect that bright light, especially such as sunlight, burned the eye with excruciating pain. He had to wear a seven-layered black eye patch unless it was night and there were few lights on. His night vision, which had always been above average, was now on level with a night predator such as a tiger. A broken right wrist and a lot of surgery resulted in deep pains in that wrist and hand whenever the weather shifted, though thankfully he hadn't lost any mobility. Two broken collarbones and countless fractured ribs had plagued his lungs until operation and removal of two ribs was utilized. The worst wound was his leg- a little too late to escape a thrown grenade, his left leg from mid-thigh down was gone. Completely gone. He used a prosthetic now, but when his tour ended he planned to go to Orihime and beg her to heal him. The other wounds he could live with, but that one… to fight higher hollows, he needed his top speed. He needed that leg. But the hollows, the battlefields were infested with them.
Every night, when his unit or battalion or camp settled, and he wasn't on watch duty, he would struggle out of his mortal body and go to kill hollows and send on souls. The battlefields were beyond packed with souls, from battles both old and new, and some of them turned Hollow right before his eyes. It was his duty to tend to them. The souls from older wars were sent first, as they were the most likely to become hollows, and sometime the fields were so thick with them it took two or three nights to clear them all. The only good thing about it was it gave him a chance to pass on messages to the departed and say goodbye to his friends and brothers-in-arms before they moved on. He usually cried. So did they. Nobody else ever said anything. A lieutenant now, he had become used to barking orders, and used that to his advantage when rounding up and rallying the spirits. It went much faster when he did that. It was night now, and he was on a new-old battlefield once again, looking at lost faces both familiar and strange and trying not to let his painful tears emerge. "ATTEN-SHUN!" Every solider in the field who had been in the American military at any point snapped to attention, spine going ramrod and hand coming up in a salute as his or her eyes stared straight ahead. "FALL IN, EAST FIELD LINE!" "Sir, yes, Sir!" They shouted, already running to where he had indicated.
He stood waiting for them, in his shinigami garb, though now they had changed from pristine black and white to army camouflage. The traditional sandals and socks had been switched for sturdy combat boots and thick protective socks, and the billowing hakama smoothed instead to resemble army fatigues. His kosode and gi were the same except the sleeves, which now trimmed close to his wrists. Zangetsu was the only thing that remained without a single adjustment. "Lieutenant Kurosaki, sir!" Ichigo nodded to him- it was time to get to business. "What is it, soldier?"
"Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Permission granted."
"Sir, are we…are we dead?"
Ichigo's scowl was firmly in place. "Indeed you are, soldier, indeed you are. Very dead, in fact. I was the one who collected your body this afternoon, Jackson. I will only explain this once, so LISTEN UP," he suddenly thundered, knowing that thanks to thorough training his shout and tone would grab the attention of all the troops immediately, "DEAD SPIRITS LEFT EARTHBOUND TOO LONG BECOME SOUL-EATING CREATURES CALLED HOLLOWS! I, A SHINIGAMI, KILL HOLLOWS AND SEND ON SOULS TO THE AFTERLIFE! BRING THE REST OF THE SPIRITS HERE, THE OLDEST FIRST AND NEWEST LAST, SO I CAN CLEAN UP THIS HELLHOLE, AM I UNDERSTOOD?"
"SIR YES SIR!"
"THEN GET TO IT, TROOPS!" Off they went. Their training had been thorough- don't question if there's little reason to, just obey your superiors.
"Well, well, well…" All the hair on the back of Ichigo's neck stood up as warm breath breezed over the sensitive, vulnerable flesh. "I come down here because I see a zanpakuto with those fatigues and, my, my, I don't find JUST a shinigami, oh no…I find me THE shinigami, one Kurosaki…brat."
Ichigo ground his teeth. "Buzz off, kitty, I have a job to do and the morning shift. I don't have time to do anything other than clean up this field." He wasn't surprised Grimmjow had found a way to survive. Animals tended to do that.
"Well, until you do have time, you have yourself a kitty stalker, boy. Get used to me."
Two months later, said 'kitty stalker' desperately searched the writhing mass of confusion for one head of sunset-orange hair, scared beyond belief that he'd lost him until out of the confusion began to come order. He made his way toward the origin point of that order, because the only one who could make sense of the mess and confusion was the one he was looking for.
108. Vacation
It hadn't been hard, not really. To just…leave. Disappear. It had been easier than he thought, in truth, he had thought someone would…notice. That someone would, well, care. Three weeks into his impromptu vacation, three weeks from when he had just dropped everything in his life and went away to who-the-hell-knew-where, and nobody had even tried to get in touch with him, or track him, or…even just confirm he was alive. It was disgusting really. He looked down at his hands, his precious hands…or they had been precious. Artist's hands. Doctor's hands. Now they were imbedded with metal shavings and splinters and small stones and small unidentifiable things and they hurt. They weren't in good shape. If he could pick up a brush, or even a pencil, he'd be surprised. This job in the steel mill was the only he could get, with his foreign accent and oddly-colored hair, and it was like living in hell. The only good thing about working here was he could sleep behind a scrap heap and not freeze to death in the winter cold, and the minimum wage was enough that he could eat and occasionally buy clothing. He would work a few more days, get his last check, and move on again. This was his vacation, after all. He should see more places. He had just gotten to his feet and started to shuffle tiredly toward his scrap pile when a big, hard hand on his shoulder yanked him around. "Kurosaki? Kurosaki!"
Without warning, he was scooped up into a pair of large, warm arms and he weakly tried to struggle; he was quickly pinned to an unforgiving chest. "Oh god, Kurosaki, yer alive…yer alive! I knew it! Fer th'love of the stars, Kurosaki, don't you ever scare me like that again!" The next thing he knew was a blue blur and he was slung over a broad, unforgiving shoulder, waving a weak goodbye to those he'd somewhat befriended who also worked in the mill as he was hauled out. He was too tired to fight right now. Besides, there was only one person who swore by the 'love of the stars', and that blue-haired menace could kick his ass. "Yer comin' home wit' me," the muscle-bound Kendo teacher snarled, voice thick with rage and accent, "an' yer gunna explain wha' th'fuck yer was thinkin', runin' off like tha'. 'Vacation' 'e says…" The man continued to grumble as he stuffed the young man into his car and hauled him back to their small town, only pausing to alternatively ask gentle questions about his condition or snarl at his stupidity.
109. Decisions
When he looked down at his side in the bed, Grimmjow always wondered if it would last. This entire relationship had hinged on his decisions, really. He'd decided to live after Ichigo had spared him, and he'd decided to seek out the shinigami after he'd healed. It was his choice to jump in a help when he'd seen the now-human male getting jumped in an alley, and his choice to allow Ichigo to see him after he regained the ability to see spirits. It had been he who initiated the sexual relationship after reading the strongly suppressed desire and affection in his scent and movements, and it had been he who pushed for more than just sex, though Ichigo had been more relieved than resistant. And he knew, any time he decided he wasn't happy anymore and left, Ichigo would let him go without so much as a word of protest. Every night he mused on these decisions, and if they had been worth it. Every night thus far, he'd decided they had. For the first time, he wondered about Ichigo's decisions. He's chosen to keep him alive. He'd decided not to fight his feelings and let Grimmjow in whole-heartedly and without hesitation. And he'd decided to give Grimmjow the control in their relationship, in all areas. Grimmjow controlled the sex, he controlled what they did, who they saw, and where they lived, even what they ate, and he controlled the relationship's very existence. Thinking about it that way, he had to wonder why Ichigo put up with him and being so thoroughly controlled… and he realized being controlled was another decision Ichigo had made. Recently he'd been a little listless and despondent, more going through the motions of enjoying life than really being happy. That concerned Grimmjow. He wondered if Ichigo hadn't anticipated the sheer extent of Grimmjow's control over their shared lives, and was resigning himself to that decision.
If he was, Grimmjow would fix it. Ichigo didn't go back on his decisions, so if he regretted one (which usually didn't happen) he suffered through the consequences. His next big decision, he told himself firmly, would be to give Ichigo more control over his own life and hope it wasn't too late and leave him lost without guidance. He would make it right again, and he would start with the sex, just like he had the first time. Tomorrow, he'd do whatever Ichigo told him for a change.
110. Phone
WARNING: DARK, SERIOUS EMOTIONAL DISTRESS AND CHARACTER DEATH AHEAD
Grimmjow hated phones. He had for years, and nobody knew why, but the weird part was- he had a cell phone that he kept very close and safe. He wouldn't even let other people touch it, and dispose of it? He'd crack you across the jaw if you suggested it. His daughter, Tia, was the only person alive who knew what that cell phone meant, and why he cared about it so much. It held three things that made it precious- a picture, a voicemail, and a single video.
She was only seven, but she knew something was special about Daddy's cell phone. He never lost sight of it, and nobody was allowed to touch it. So she'd asked. He'd made her promise not to tell Mommy, but Mommy didn't care anyway. She couldn't tell Daddy that Mommy was evil though, and was a liar and a fake because she was afraid Daddy would make her leave, because if she told Daddy that he might do something bad. He did that when he found out people were lying to him. Anyway, after she promised never to tell, he settled in bed beside her and flipped open the phone with a smooth, practiced motion. He used it at least once a day, usually in the bathroom, because he always cried afterward. The picture on it was of him and a beautiful man with short, bright orange hair, and they were hugging and laughing, hair everywhere and hands clasped, faces red and eyes ablaze with something she didn't know and couldn't name. Tia knew right away the man was special- Daddy only held hands with her. Mommy and anyone else weren't allowed.
The video she didn't see until she was thirteen and had her first sex ed. class under her belt. Only then did her father let her see it, after warning her that it would probably gross her out.
The orange-haired man was dressed up in lots of leather and buckles and silver rings, and a blush that was the color of a fire truck. He was swearing loudly about how her Daddy had better make 'this' up to him later, but his pretty brown eyes had gone dark and what she thought her romance books called 'sultry'. Whatever it was, it made both her and Daddy shiver hard. He then set the phone on a stand, the camera still facing him, and… well. There really weren't words for the things he did, but watching it made her feel hot and tingly and at the end he sat in a huge chair with leather and silver rings that matched the ones he was wearing and crossed his legs at the knee like a girl (though it didn't look girly when he did it) and grinned evilly. His teeth looked sharp when he did that. She had thought on her Daddy knew how to do that to his teeth. Then he said, "And I'll be right here when you get home, so no staying late at the office tonight, got it? Otherwise…I know a couple other businessmen who would be just as interested to hurry home to me as you are, I'm sure." Snapping the phone shut, Daddy had to run to the bathroom again.
The voicemail she only became aware of when she was nineteen, shortly after she accidentally backed the car over their family cat, Pantera. As she sobbed inconsolably, her father came to her with his battered old phone and flipped it open. "Yer not the only one who's killed someone she loves," he whispered, flipping to speaker and accessing his voicemail. The voice of the orange-haired man whose name Tia still didn't know began to play, filled with more sadness than she'd ever heard in the voice of one person. "Hey Grimm. I know I said I'd see you at home, but…something's come up." Tia, oddly, heard wind whistling. "There's been an accident. A drunk driver…out on highway sixty-three, he…um," Tia heard metal groan in the background, "I love you, you know I love you right? More than life itself. I love you so much, Grimmjow Jagerjaques, and don't you dare ever forget it, you hear me? No matter what happens, I'll always love you, I-" The scream of metal tearing cut him off, and the message ended. Closing the phone again, her father looked at it hard, voice breaking as he cried. "He got hit by that drunk driver on his way home fer our anniversary. He was out by a cliff an' careened straigh' past th' metal guard on the side from how hard he got hit, an' he made tha' call while th'front half of his car dangled over the cliff side. Tha' road is way out in th'middle o' nowhere, so he knew – he knew nobody would come fast enough to rescue him. It cuts off there because…because he shut his phone. He din't…he din't wan' me ta hear th'crash."
So nobody ever touched that phone, ever, and he still listened to that message every day. He watched the video from time to time as well. And he hated all phones, except for the battered old one that held the last message, picture, and video he would ever have of the love of his life. They still couldn't figure out why.
Grimmjow despised phones for one simple reason- they sometimes malfunctioned. His cell phone at one point had had every single byte dedicated to his love, with pictures they had taken and videos of anniversaries and birthdays and Christmases and his voicebox had been as full as it got with messages that ranged from simple "bring home take-out for dinner, I'm too damn tired to cook" messages to "I've got a surprise waiting- and don't forget your high-heeled boots, Gwenivere". After a drastic malfunction, the only retrievable records the company could get for him were the last of each; the ones right before he died.
Grimmjow hated phones.
A/N I'm sure you lot weren't expecting anymore on this from me, were you? Guesssssss What! This, ladies and gentlemen, is my celebration of GrimmIchi day and I've been working on it for FOR-FUCKING-EVER so I'm happy to get it up on this most fortuitous day. Now, if you all will excuse me, I'm going to rake over the most recent GrimmIchi's that were put up in honor of this day. Enjoy!
~Silva