Felis Domesticus

A/N: Warning: Most unrealistic battle ever.

7

Blue. Blue like the waters of a turbulent lake. Blue like the core of the most precious sapphire gem. Blue like the soft petals of a blooming cornflower.

Ichigo could not believe his ears. Deep within his chest, his heart thumped with a renewed frenetic tempo, sending blood rushing to his ears. His mind reeled at the reality around him. There was only one thing left to do. Slowly, with his breath escaping him in harsh puffs, he twisted his head around, staring behind him at the unexpected scene.

A familiar form stood with its back towards him, but Ichigo recognized it at once. There was no mistaking the confidence that leaked out in crashing waves, from the tip of the electric blue hair to the ends of the black-clad feet. The bleached white uniform billowed in the cool night breeze, almost blindingly bright and a beacon in the dark night. A sword hung relaxed against a strong hip, but the aura emitting from the object reminded one of a crouched panther, waiting to strike out with lethal precision.

Grimmjow?

Grimmjow hadn't felt this good in decades.

It seemed that acting like Kurosaki's shadow the past week had paid off. No longer was his reiatsu slippery and out of his reach, but consolidated around him and easily manipulated. The fight or flight instinct had blossomed within him the moment the Garganta had opened, and Grimmjow's natural reaction had always been to fight. One moment he was being jostled around against his rival's chest, and the next moment his reiatsu surged through his veins. He couldn't help but inhale deeply the night air, crisp and cool against his exposed flesh, already heated from his coursing blood. The power he felt flowing through him was electrifying, familiar and unmistakably his own.

Of course, his first sight after transforming back into an arrancar was made sweeter by the scene before him. The two female arrancar stood frozen in shock, horror and confusion etched onto their faces. Grimmjow could practically smell their fear and trepidation, contempt seeping into his blue eyes. His lips twisted into a maniacal sneer. No doubt these two were Aizen's lesser numeros, leaping to obey his every beck and call. The sheer audacity they had in thinking they could lay a finger on him caused his sneer to widen.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" He jeered, flexing his fingers and feeling the itch of wanting to wield a blade.

Loly was the first to snap from her stupor, her face distorting in anger, teeth clenched in fury. "I'll show you…!" Her hand flew to the hilt of her sword.

But before she could attack, Menoly proved to be faster. A searing red cero blasted forth from her hand, aimed straight at Grimmjow.

The attack did nothing to faze him, and he easily deflected the blast. Weak! Too weak! Without a moment's pause, he returned one of his own. The red cero shot through the air in a crimson streak, lighting fast, impacting upon the blonde arrancar square in the stomach. The force tossed her back, flinging her body like a rag doll until she collided into the nearest building, leaving a crater-sized dent in the steel. She crumpled onto the pavement, unmoving.

"Menoly!" Loly shrieked at her partner. "You bastard!" She snarled at Grimmjow, blind rage sending her to unsheathe her sword, using sonido to speed towards her opponent.

Her body was arched forward like a strung bow in the air, sword ready to strike a deadly blow. Slow! Too slow! To Grimmjow, she might as well be standing still. Sidestepping her attack, he raised his hand in the form of a claw. With a burst of reiatsu to the fingertips, he viciously sliced across her chest. Black blood exploded into the air, the skin and clothing like butter underneath his fingers.

A weak gasp fled between Loly's lips, her violet eyes widening in pain. She dropped her sword, her legs giving way underneath her. Her hands flew up to clutch at her gaping wounds in a futile attempt to staunch the rapid blood flow. She coughed in agony, thick globules of blood dripping down and splattering onto the concrete. The pain was crippling, and she pitched forward, falling into the pool of her own blood.

Grimmjow raised his hand, the red glow of an incinerating cero shot already beginning to form.

"Wait."

The voice was low, but didn't lack in strength or conviction. Grimmjow turned to regard the voice, surprised by the sudden outburst, the cero in his hand dissipating.

It was the shinigami, still lying prone on the ground. The cero wound on his shoulder still steamed, and flying debris had made numerous visible cuts across his torso. His right hand still clutched the pink bath towel, making his presence on the battlefield almost comedic. He was definitely worse for wear, but the determined frown on his face was as intense as ever, gaze fixated on the quivering mass of bloody arrancar flesh. There was something stirring behind those piercing brown eyes, ever a clear window into all his emotions. Pity? Mercy? Compassion? Grimmjow found that he couldn't decide.

"What?" He spat callously. "You should know by now that this is the nature of things. Weaker beings only give way to stronger ones. What more use do I have for them?"

The redhead's facial expression didn't change, still staring at the fallen arrancar as if Grimmjow hadn't spoken a word. "They're defeated. What more do you want?"

Grimmjow bit back a snarl. He would like nothing better than to smash that righteous face into the ground. His existence was shaped by his experiences in the Menos Forest, something the boy knew nothing about. A kill or be killed world was nothing but cruel, no time for useless trifles such as pity or remorse. Count on Kurosaki to be infuriating at precisely the right moments.

Still, Aizen's lapdogs weren't the highlight of the night.

Against his instincts, Grimmjow relented and opened a Garganta, its gaping maw rivaling the black of the night. He grabbed Loly by the scruff of her neck, effortlessly lifting her into the air. She coughed and whimpered, flecks of blood staining his bleached sleeves. With a ruthless kick to the midsection, Grimmjow unceremoniously sent her back to Hueco Mundo, the void soundlessly closing behind him.

A breeze picked up as Grimmjow turned back to regard his nemesis. The shinigami was slowly rising to his feet, warily eyeing him back, traces of incredulity and confusion still lingering on his face. The wind did nothing to cool his emotions, and Grimmjow reveled in the inevitable wave of lust for battle. This was his chance. This was his moment to pummel Kurosaki within an inch of his life for the past few weeks. A rising typhoon swirled within his chest, fueled by the desire to destroy and wreak havoc. He couldn't help but lick his bloodless lips, practically tasting the oncoming fight.

"You're next." He all but purred at his rival.

Ten strides.

No more than ten strides and a jump separating him from his bedroom, where he knew his Shinigami badge was located.

Ichigo had tensed immediately as the ominous words left Grimmjow's lips. He might still be bewildered at how his house cat had suddenly turned into his archnemesis sworn to defeat him, but reality could pack a mean backhand. There was no time for speculations and astonishment. There was no time for even questions. Worse of all, there was no time for decent clothing. Of course, Rukia was going to have a cow, but there was no time to dwell on that either.

The distance separating him from the Clinic wasn't far, but would Grimmjow let him reach it? The arrancar was terrifyingly strong and fast, there was no doubt about that. Ichigo was at a severe disadvantage with no means of protecting himself against a fully equipped Espada. He could crush him at any moment; the only question would be how soon.

Perhaps if he could outmaneuver his enemy and race for his bedroom window, there was a chance… Ichigo couldn't afford to hesitate. All his intent was focused on flight, his body subconsciously bracing for any preemptive blows.

He froze when Grimmjow's sword was tossed through the air, skittering to a halt a few paces away from them.

The hell?! The confusion returned with a vengeance, Ichigo's mind racing to analyze the situation. The teal-haired arrancar was still grinning like a madman, acting as if he had just thrown aside a stray piece of trash rather than the vessel of his true form.

Grimmjow didn't stop there. In one swift move, he took off his jacket as well, the flimsy material landing in a heap at his feet. It was only when he reached along his hakama that Ichigo finally couldn't contain his outburst.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Alarm bells were beginning to sound in his brain, and a strange twisting sensation began in his gut.

If possible, Grimmjow's grin became even more feral. "I don't need a sword to defeat you." A ripping noise punctuated his words, and his hakama was quickly torn off at the upper thighs. The shoes came off next. "Nor do I need clothes."

Ichigo was given no warning. A blue blur. Pain engulfed his right cheek, before he found himself sailing through the air, crashing into a street light. Almost immediately, a coppery tang welled up in his mouth. He shook his head to clear away the sudden dizziness, struggling to stand up, and spitting out a tooth in the process.

"Listen, Kurosaki. You're gonna die from my bare hands alone." A murderous glint stained the cerulean pools that were the Espada's eyes. "And after that, I'm going after the girl."

Rukia! Red clouded the edges of Ichigo's vision. Vivid images of the last time he and Rukia had clashed with Grimmjow surfaced within his mind. Granted he was much stronger than that time, but just remembering that night still made his palm tingle. Was Grimmjow actually serious? Who was he kidding? Grimmjow was always serious. Psychotic, but serious.

With a renewed determination, the redhead scrambled to his feet. The fight at both their current condition, reflecting Grimmjow's skewed honor code, would have to do. Gritting his teeth, he quickly made a knot with his bath towel, securing it around his waist.

He was afforded only a split-second to defend against another attack: this time, a well-aimed kick to the legs.

Ichigo leapt into the air, narrowly avoiding a swipe to the shoulder. He twisted around, aiming a punch at Grimmjow's face. The arrancar caught his fist easily, swinging him around and using his own momentum to send him flying again. Ichigo's mind raced in mid-air, trying to pinpoint the location of his enemy. He saw the knee too late.

Wham! All the air was brutally squeezed out of lungs as the bony knee collided with his abdomen, leaving him without even a voice to cry out. Scarlet rain fell onto the pavement below, before Ichigo realized it was his own blood spewing from his mouth. The pain alone made his vision swim with black spots, and he was sure his lower two ribs had instantly smashed upon impact.

It was sheer force of will that allowed him to get back up onto his feet, savagely wiping his lips with the back of a wrist. He gave a wheezing cough, panting heavily. Grimmjow landed a few feet away, barely scratched. "That all you got?"

The merciless taunt was poison to his ears. Ichigo's blood boiled at the sight of that cocky smirk. If only he had his zanpakuto, he'd wipe that smirk off faster than Grimmjow could blink. Focus! He berated himself. He may not be the best at reiatsu control, but if he focused all his energy on defense... At least it wouldn't be a closed casket at his funeral.

Grimmjow charged.

Ichigo raised both his hands to block, dimly aware of the resounding crack! of their two arms colliding. He held his ground for a moment, struggling against the Espada's inhuman strength bearing down upon him. But it wasn't enough. Slowly, he was beginning to be pushed back, a searing burn on the bottom of his feet as they desperately tried to dig into the hard ground.

Grimmjow doubled his effort, and succeeded in slamming him against the cracked brick of a building. Ichigo ignored the stinging pain of torn skin on his back, feeling the tell-tale warm wet sensation of blood trickling down and soaking into the pink bath towel. His mouth was aching from clenching and grinding his teeth, but the pressure against his back only increased.

Focus! Focus! The word became almost a chant inside his mind. He let out a cry, hearing the cracks of the brick widen, close to collapsing point.

The brick wall gave way, and Ichigo tumbled into the dust and debris. His back was numb, bruised and battered into a bloody raw mess. He choked on the dust, agony coursing through his entire body.

Grimmjow was upon him in an instant. The arrancar leapt over the rubble, pouncing on Ichigo's prone form. A brief grappling brawl ensued, each one fighting for dominance and the upper position. It ended when Ichigo caught his head on a large piece of jagged brick, slicing his forehead and giving Grimmjow the upper hand.

A solid weight dug into his lower stomach and strong hands clasped around his neck in an iron grip. Ichigo abandoned all pretenses of mental calm. His own hands flew up to cover the offending grip, futilely trying to suck in air. He could only emit loud strangling sounds, choking and gasping for breath. The full weight of Grimmjow's willpower and reiatsu crashed down upon him, his enemy's face mere inches from his own.

He was suffocating, not just from lack of oxygen, but from the encompassing heat suddenly wrapping around him. Sweat had made both their skin sticky and slick, the beads of liquid snaking down to pool wherever their naked skin came in contact. Grimmjow's skin burned as if on fire, hot blood pulsing underneath. Warm breath fanned across his face, adding to the heat. The atmosphere was stifling, and his vision was filled with nothing but cerulean eyes boring into his own. They stared him down, as if trying to incinerate his very soul in an inferno of blue fire. Ichigo couldn't help but feel like a trapped prey right in the mouth of a predator.

The squeezing clamp around his throat only grew worse, fingers relentlessly pressing against his windpipe. Black spots swirled and exploded in his vision, and he was quickly growing light-headed. His lungs burned with exertion, and his heart felt as if it was going to explode at any minute. His grip was already becoming weaker and weaker, slippery from clawing at Grimmjow's hands until the skin broke underneath his fingernails.

Suddenly, Grimmjow's face contorted into alarm, blue eyes widening. His hands loosened a fraction, allowing Ichigo to refocus enough to sense rapidly approaching reiatsu signatures. From the feel of it, there was more than one, all of them formidable shinigami.

In the instant his enemy's attention wavered, Ichigo saw a brief opening. Using the last of his strength, he summoned all his power into his hand, stretched out his arm, and delivered a bone-shaking backhand onto Grimmjow's unprotected cheek.

The force was enough to knock him back, toppling his balance and forcing him to roll away. Immediately, Ichigo gulped down mouthfuls of air, relief flooding his abused lungs. He quickly resumed the defensive again, not wasting his chance, crouching on the pads of his feet and steadying himself for another attack.

Grimmjow was livid. A thin trickle of blood dripped down from the corner of his lip, but what attracted all the attention was the angry red imprint embedded into his left cheek. All four finger marks were clearly visible, stark against his peach-colored skin.

"You just signed your death warrant. Twice." He ground out, fury painting every syllable.

Instead of attacking again, Grimmjow's eyes darted to the side, scanning the night skyline for signs of the oncoming reinforcements. Ichigo's gaze followed, soon recognizing Rukia's reiatsu and sensing the familiarity of the others. It was no mystery that their brawl must have attracted a wide radius of attention. Relief welled up within him, but he couldn't dismiss the nagging irritation at the back of mind for interrupting their fight.

A one-sided fight in which you could have very well died. Ichigo firmly reminded himself, swiftly quelling the nagging irritation.

He looked back towards Grimmjow, only to find settling dust and rubble. The arrancar had disappeared.

Alarm raced through him, and he sprung up, eyes frantically searching for any sign of his nemesis. There was nothing, not even a streak of electric blue hair or a flash of bleached clothing. Grimmjow had simply stole away, leaving nothing behind but the cool night breeze against his naked skin.

"Grimmjow! Grimmjow!" Ichigo found himself calling out into the dark night, ignoring the fact that the very person whom he was calling out to had just thoroughly wiped the floor with his teenage ass. Only silence answered him.

A soft thud sounded behind him. "I… Ichigo?!"

He whipped around, locking gazes with none other than the petite form of Kuchiki Rukia. A scandalized expression was fixed on her face, and she looked as if she couldn't decide whether to loosen her grip on the hilt of her zanpakuto or to tighten it. Her large violet eyes roamed over Ichigo's almost naked form, a perceptible twitching already beginning in one eye. "What… is the meaning of this?" Her voice came out low and dangerous.

"I… I can explain!" He burst out without thinking, suddenly feeling very exposed and indecent. His mind furiously tried to churn out an escape plan, but he saw nothing except for broken buildings and steaming rubble strewn over the block right before his house. He could only imagine what he looked like, a mangled bleeding lone figure amidst the backdrop of a suburban wreck.

"Then you better start now."

Another voice joined the fray. Ichigo's pride plummeted to rock bottom when the speaker revealed itself. Turquoise eyes, holding an emotion a notch above disdain, pierced into his own as Hitsugaya Toshiro stepped into the light in all his captain glory, his spiky white hair adding a few inches to his otherwise midget height. He folded his arms across his chest, patiently waiting. Behind him, Matsumoto Rangiku was trying desperately not to burst a vein from stifling hysterical laughter, her enormous bosom bobbing up and down with the effort.

"Shit, man." The last voice to arrive did nothing to spare Ichigo any embarrassment. Tell-tale red hair fluttered in the breeze as Abarai Renji landed beside Rukia. For once, the brash shinigami was at a loss for words, though his open gaping at Ichigo was no better.

Rukia. Toshiro. Rangiku. Renji. All that was missing was his family.

Ichigo wanted to bury himself beneath the chunks of the ruined buildings and never see the light of day again. He steeled his nerves, gripped his pink bath towel hanging limply around his hips, and opened his mouth.

A/N: Two year hiatus? What two year hiatus?