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A Shadow of What Was	By : katami Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 49594 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Author's Notes: All will love Gin by the time I am done, Irana. *Katami cackles madly* Okay, not really, but he was just so darn cute. And we all knew Grimmkitty had to be special - no one could be that arrogant without an ace in the hole.

Satterb, Ulquiorra and Byakuya are coming.

PeaKay, glad I could bring a smile to the snow day. I shudder in sympathy at the very idea of all that cold white stuff (Katami is not a snow person).

Happy holidays, Alex and thanks for reading. I think we will start holding group for you one-shot people after the new year. And we have three-way action coming - or the start of it, can't herd a kitty.

I want to say thanks to everyone reading this story and give a big hug to all those who have taken the time to review.

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A claw tipped fist collided with the rock, shattering it and sending pieces flying. The feline scream of rage echoed through the empty training ground, reverberating off the walls and doing nothing to cool Grimmjow's rage. He stood there rigid before tossing his head back and screaming again. Reiatsu exploded out of him like pale blue lightning, fracturing the ground beneath his feet and smashing all the rocks it touched. Reddish dust filled the air, only serving to annoy him further.

He didn't want red dust or the bright sunlight of this foreign place. He wanted the pale cool sand of Hueco Mundo and the gentle kiss of moonlight. He wanted to feel the sand shift under his paws rather than put up with hard packed earth. He wanted something warm and alive between his teeth, to feel flesh give way under his claws and hot coppery blood slake his thirst. He wanted to vent his fury not on rocks, but on the people who had lost his fucking kitten!

He roared and bounded over to another rock, lashing out with a clawed foot and destroying it. The human was his! His kitten! His pride mate! His! And he held onto what was his. No one stole from Grimmjow Jeagerjaques! Not anymore! Not without paying for it in blood and pain. There was very little twenty years with Aizen had left him with beyond his rage; but now he had this - a pride mate, of sorts. And he would not loose it! He had lost enough!

First it had been his parents. His sire - a feline-type, pale like the sands of Hueco Mundo, and built like a lion, although lacking the mane. Then his dame - a sort of hooded weasel type creature, dark like the night sky and wickedly fast, the most clever and dangerous creature he had ever seen.

Then his food. He still remembered cowering in the darkness, a not even half grown cub, seething with impotent fury as others - those larger and more powerful - gorged themselves on his kill. Unable to do anything, unable to fight back, knowing that should they find him he would be devoured as well. Yes, he remembered - and it burned inside him, a dark, unholy wellspring of hate.

He had given his freedom and his body over to Aizen. He had sold himself to that cold-eyed devil with an angel's smile for the power to stop people from stealing what was his - not realizing until it was too late that Aizen�s power was a lie. What he had thought would make him stronger had stunted his natural evolution, perhaps forever, by twisting it in unnatural ways. Hollows evolved, Arrancar did not. He had learned that just a little too late though; he'd been turned as an adjuchas-class Hollow rather than as a Vasto Lorde and the power he might have had had been lost. Not that Aizen had cared. No, he had gotten to run his experiments and a new minion. What did it matter to him if he had shut off Grimmjow's evolution. It wasn't as he could have left, reflected the Arrancar, the only way anyone left Aizen's service was feet first. His tail twitched and he smashed his fist into boulder, killing another rock, which did exactly nothing to improve his temper.

And now someone had taken his kitten. Again.

He roared and viciously raked his claws down the face of a rock, leaving deep gouges. He wanted his fucking kitten back. And he wanted his fucking life back! And he wanted something to kill besides goddamn fucking rocks!

A Shinigami peeked his head in, saw him, and made some sort of a strangled squeaking noise - it sounded just like a mouse before someone pounced on it and ripped its stupid little mouse head off. He was tempted to tear the Shinigami's head off but like any smart mouse it fled for its miserable little life. Besides, he was fairly sure picking on stupid Shinigami too weak to fight back was kinda pathetic - especially when there was real prey out there. People who deserved to have their insides made outsides.

He rumbled darkly, his power ebbing and flowing with the low vibrations in his chest. He clenched his fists, his claws dug into his palms, and the tangy scent of blood reached his nose and drew a feral smile to his lips. That was what he wanted. Blood. Death. The uncomplicated pleasure of the hunt. There was the hunter and the prey. There was life and death. There was none of this confusion and uncertainty and....

Fear.

He gave a soft snarling yowl, a completely inhuman noise of irritation, and slammed his fist into another rock as he tried to tell himself that he was annoyed - not afraid. He was angry. That asshole Kurosaki had lost his fucking kitten. He couldn't go out and hunt for the brat himself without Aizen finding him - meaning he was stuck relying on the Shinigami, who had already proven that they couldn't find their own ass with both hands and a map. These were the people expected to locate his kitten - who they all freely admitted was smarter and any ten of them.

And to top it off he had two of the bastards making no fucking sense!

A whip-like tendril of reiatsu lashed against another rock, scoring it each time it touched. Grimmjow whirled around, growling and wanting to smash something besides the landscape. Why couldn�t the fucking Shinigami just come out and say things? Why did they have to confuse everything?

Most of them were annoying as hell and useless too boot... But they hadn�t hurt him - even when they�d had the chance. They could have just taken the kitten; they�d had the people to do it back at the park, and nothing he or Ulquiorra could have done would have been able to do more than slow them down. He wasn�t an idiot, and while he might not like to admit it, six Shinigami captains against two Arrancar and a barely trained kid would not have been much of a fight. The Shinigami hadn�t fought them though. They had even gone so far as to heal him and had let him stay with Kisuke - although he suspected part of that had been trying to keep the kitten manageable.

They were nice to him and Ulquiorra though - annoying as hell, but nice. Shunsui and Jyuushiro even fed him. He was certain the Shinigami didn�t understand the significance of food, but in Hueco Mundo you only shared food with trusted companions: mates, whelps, or pride members. He knew it wasn�t the same with the Shinigami, he�d done enough prowling to know that, but he couldn�t quite shake the idea that captains were trying in their own way to demonstrate...something by offering the food.

He prowled the sunlit grounds, agitated and restless, not understanding what the Shinigami wanted or what he was supposed to want from them. And the rocks were less than forthcoming. The scent of water reached his nose, drawing him with the promise of a drink. He slunk cautiously to the edge of another pool, shuddering faintly at the sight of so much water and glancing around warily. For just a moment he could imagine the stuff closing around his head, filling his nose and ears, blunting his senses and leaving him helpless. He could feel it rushing down his throat to choke him, filling his burning lungs and seeming to crush his chest. He flinched and retreated, not thirsty anymore, not wanting to be anywhere near that open pool with its cool glassy death.

He huddled with his back against a rock, four sets of claws dug into the ground as he tried to forget the feel of the water closing around him. Tousen had perfected holding him under until the last possible instant, making it into an art form. The former captain had been able to hold him until the burn in his lungs had been nearly unbearable, until he had been milliseconds away from opening his mouth to breathe in the water. And Tousen had been able to repeat it again and again for hours, until all that was left was the terror of the water, the desperate choking gasps of air, and the slowly consuming hatred for the beings responsible.

He hissed at the water, as if it might decide to come alive and rise out of its pool to try and drown him. Tousen had beaten him each time he had finally dragged him from the water - he'd had to. The first time the Shinigami had finished 'disciplining' him he'd gone for the other man's throat and very nearly ripped it out. Tousen had sported his handprints on his neck for a week.

Another set of hands came to mind, soft gentle hands that ghosted over his skin like he was something...important. Ukitake and Kyouraku had once dragged him into the water, but they had pulled him out when they realized it upset him. And rather than beating him or leaving him to cower wet and miserable they had dried him and petted him - even when he had tried to bite them. They had never once hit him or hurt him. He frowned, a soft, confused, little whine bubbling up from inside him, not understanding what they wanted. Why the fuck couldn't they just make sense? Come out and say what they fucking wanted?

A piece of rock came loose in his hand; he stared at the small red rock before tossing it at the water in annoyance, trying to understand just what the hell those idiot Shinigami wanted from him. Instinct screamed there was more than what Las Noches had shown him - but all he had ever known was Las Noches. Where strength was nothing but a tool to take what one wanted from those who were weaker. Where sex had never been about pleasure, but about power - who had it and who didn�t.

But the Shinigami hadn't lied to him yet.

He growled and slammed his fist into the ground, wanting the goddamn universe to make sense. Wanting someone else to be as confused as he was. And very much wanting to punch the fucking bastards who had confused him. His ears twitched and he leapt to his feet, rational side screaming that tracking down the bastards in question would be an absolutely terrible idea - since no conversation with them had ever gone as planned - but instinct whispered the siren promise of blood and violence. He stood, a deep rumble echoing through his chest, he was tired of beating rocks for information they didn't have; but beating something living and warm was a whole other matter. For once he was going to get some answers, he decided.
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A Shadow of What Was