Pairing: Grimmichi
Plot: Ichigo had never really found an interest in sport, save martial arts, of course. He is about to know the true meaning of 'supporting your colours.'
Warnings: YAOILEMONS, don't like, don't read it really is as simple as that. Rape. Torture. Foul Language. Some OOCness, my bad.
Disclaimer: I d not own Bleach in any way, shape or form. Dammit it all.


Baring Your Colours
Part I

Ichigo had never really found an interest in sport, save martial arts, of course. It had been the highlight of his day. Knowing that everyday he became a little bit stronger, just so he could protect his precious person. Ichigo's mother was the centre of his world. The wind that made him soar and the ground that kept him safe and secure. He couldn't have possibly imagined what it would have been like if she suddenly wasn't there anymore.

To say it had been a hock to the system was a far too great understatement that his younger self could comprehend. The whole system that was his life crashed beyond repair.

After the day by the riverside, nothing was ever the same again. He was so caught up in denial of his mother's passing; that he shut out his own family, who were hurting just as much as he was if not more due to the added worry he aced upon them.

He became a shell of the happy, little Ichigo who would just ignore taunts about his abnormal hair and weird attachment to his mother that many boys his age had already started grown out of.

It got better as he grew up, determined to get stronger to protect his younger sister's from any harm. Unfortunately, the local gangs found his hair colour an offense for whatever reason and he got into quite a lot of fights. That's where he met one of his best friends. Sado had always been silent but was one hell of a fighter and came through for Ichigo when he would have been beaten to a pulp.

Support …

Ichigo had never really supported a team his lack of interest in sport often left him out of the loop. He could play almost everything, but would blank out if anyone started talking about a league game. What confused him most was when someone would say something like, "Come on! Support your colours!"

That always confused the hell outta' him. Weren't they just talking about sport? It would take a real idiot or hermit not to get that they were talking about the teams uniform, Ichigo knew this, but it still seemed alien to him. Why mention the uniform when you could just as easily say the team's name.

It had taken a very big shock for him to finally understand why those three words could be so important. A big shock indeed.

Ichigo had never considered him self abnormal. Sure, he had the most outlandish orange hair that often got him into trouble with those who thought that he was just out for attention, but he never saw that as weird. The fact that he could see ghosts didn't really faze him either, apparently his family had always been able to see them for generations, according to his dad's mad ramblings anyway, enough said there. It wasn't until he got stabbed by the zanpaktou of a shinigami that he defiantly knew he wasn't normal.

Kuchiki Rukia was a complete enigma to him. Appearing through his bedroom window, binding him without any ties and slaying a gigantic monster that, she claimed, used to be a human being. She had gone against the rules of the Soul Society and had given Ichigo her powers, which landed her in prison, back in the Soul Society.

Ichigo had come to terms with being in his shinigami spirit form. His black shihakushō became almost like a second skin. That was when he first considered this being his 'team's' colours.

Well, that was short-lived.

After uncovering the evil schemes being carried out by Aizen, Captain of Squad 5, and saving Rukia to boot, Ichigo again had to take another hit to the system.

Aizen, it seemed, had taken an interest in our hero, and not being one to wait for his prey to come to him, had forcefully ripped Ichigo out of the Soul Society and into Hueco Mundo, where Aizen currently resided as their Lord and Ruler.

This brings us to Ichigo's current situation.

Panting heavily, face down on the white silk sheets; he tried his best to muffle the rising moans that never failed to appear when ever he was around.

Grimmjow Jeagerjaques had to be the most arrogant arsehole Ichigo had ever had the misfortune to meet. Everything about him drove Ichigo up the wall and he was sickened to say … he loved every bit of it.

Said arsehole was currently assaulting Ichigo's lower half quite brutally, pinning Ichigo's arms behind his back and biting the skin of his neck just enough to draw blood. Ichigo could only writhe beneath the hard, toned body that was pounding into him relentlessly from behind. He could feel how much Grimmjow's engorged member was stretching his entrance and was disgusted to admit how good it felt. He wanted more, but wasn't a fool enough to ask for it. He detested himself even more to be submissive enough to obey the monster that had made the past few months a living nightmare.

Ichigo was brought out of his musing when he felt the familiar build up in his lower abdomen. Finally, he thought. Even though it was the best feeling in the world, he still kept the same belief, that a satisfied Grimmjow was good for everyone, especially him, even if wasn't hardly ever allowed to come.

These sessions had been known to drag out for hours. Almost all of Hueco Mundo was aware of what went on behind the doors of the Sexta Espada's chambers.

Being an Espada's number one Fraccion, Ichigo decided, was a very demanding job that wasn't always worth the benefits it granted. He was glad about being regarded as important enough to be of limits to anyone but Aizen-bastard-sama and Grimmjow-bastard-sama. Though nothing would ever, or could ever, change the fact that he hated every fucker in this goddamned dimension.

Ichigo has truly been against the idea from the very second Aizen had looped and arm around his waist and pulled him into the beams that had taken them directly into Hueco Mundo. All of Seritei, even if they didn't show it, had been completely dumbstruck and confused beyond belief when they're supposed Ryoka turned hero had been abducted by the greatest traitor in Soul Society history.

As soon as the Gargantuan had closed, Ichigo had been Shunpo-ed straight into Aizen's fortress and into the main conference room where he was bolted to a chair with his hands tied around the back with Kido and his legs tied apart to the front two legs of the chair. Before he could shout out, a needle had been jabbed into the side of his neck, causing the world to become slightly blurry and had distorted the voices talking around him. He could only hand his head in shocked stupor as his kimonos and hakama were loosened and left to hand off his body, leaving an ample amount of flesh on show.

It hadn't occurred to him that he sat on was on a raised platform that was to the left of the long table at the centre of the room. He was shrouded in darkness in the corner of the room. He waited uneasily; his predicament had yet to sink in.

He was shocked out of his thoughts as a light beamed directly into his face and he stretched to try and get away from it, as to see past it into the now full room.

There appeared to be 12 people, judging from the shadowed outlines. He could just about make out the figures of Aizen. Ichimaru and Tousen, the other 9 were a mystery to him. They all appeared to be staring right at Ichigo and this disconcerted him quite a bit. The feeling of eyes on him got worse as the large white entrance doors opened admitting the very figure that haunts his nightmares to this day. Ichigo would never forget the very first words he had ever heard the man speak.

"That is my fuckin' property you're all fuckin' staring at. Touch it and I'll fuckin' kill the fuckin' lot of you."

Charming …

---

Fuck.

The only thought Grimmjow cold possibly understand at that moment, the verb and all the implications of it. Such a simple word had managed to sum up everything going through his mind. For example, 'Fuck, they better touch off him.' to 'Fuck, this is awkward.'

But being the hot-blooded male that he was, the main thought was, 'I want that body under mine now!'

How could he possibly think any differently? The young shinigami was strapped, half-naked to a chair with legs wide open and his muscular back and neck arched with a thin layer of sweat coating his toned chest. His orange hair sticking to his forehead and neck, which was begging to be bitten and marked.

The boy was facing him, head tipped slightly back and breaths coming in pants through supple lips. His chocolate brown eyes had almost a half-glazed look to them. The boy seemed to be evaluating him, if he could even see Grimmjow clearly that was, apparently coming up indifferent, although the sudden scowl at Grimmjow's outburst upon entrance had hardly impressed him.

"Grimmjow, so glad that you could join us. Please, take your seat, we are about to serve the tea."

It took a lot of effort to move from the shadow of the doorway to his seat. Grimmjow wasn't a nervous person, hell he practically wrote the book on being confident, so he gave the quivering shinigami a feral grin and continued to his seat, which just so happened to give him an amazing view of the boy's heaving chest. The scowl on his face doing nothing to dissuade the thought's running through Grimmjow's head, if anything it made if more eager to break him. A small glance from Aizen confirmed that this had been planned, not that Grimmjow was complaining in the slightest. If anything Grimmjow would be giving him a look of thanks, but Grimmjow didn't do manners and left it. Even though the bastard could probably read his thoughts anyway …

'This one might put up a bit of a fight.' Grimmjow thought sadistically.

"Now that you're here Grimmjow, we can begin. I would like to draw your attention to the afore mentioned shinigami, Kurosaki Ichigo."

Grimmjow didn't even try to hold back the growl at the back of his throat. 'Don't even think about it, mother-fuckers! That ass is mine!'

Aizen, however, continued unperturbed.

"As I have stated before, although it may not appear so, this boy had tremendous power and an even greater rate of growth. He was Soul Society's greatest possible asset, even though they will never realise it. They lose him, they lose the war."

"Excuse me, Aizen-sama." It was the pink-haired, Octova Espada, Szayel Aporro Granz, who had spoken up. "Could you please explain this great power of his? How can this mere child have enough power to be the deciding factor of this war?" He was seated a few seats down on the opposite side of the table to Grimmjow, who couldn't draw his eyes away from the young shinigami long enough to actually acknowledge that he was speaking. Szayel was considered the scientist of the group and had barely been made an Espada, a fact that Grimmjow and Nnoitra Jiruga, the Quinto Espada who had a uniform that made him look like a giant spoon, never let him forget. Szayel made the devices that Aizen deemed necessary for his cause.

"That is a very good question, Szayel. Let me explain. You have all gone through the process that gives you the form of a human, to become Arrancar, which gave you all more power. Kurosaki-kun just so happens to be going through the opposite process. It is to my understanding that Kurosaki regained his shinigami powers by force and that resulted in the creation of an Inner Hollow."

"Inner Hollow, Aizen-sama?' It was the stoic being across from Grimmjow that cut in. Ulquiorra, the Cuatro Espada and, in Grimmjow's opinion anyway, was the biggest kiss-arse ever to grace the halls of Hueco Mundo. Grimmjow was even surprised that he dared speak out of turn. His dull green eyes were locked onto the shinigami as if scanning him for said Hollow, so once again Grimmjow had to make a point of growling loud enough for the entire table to hear, he was ignored by most.

"Yes, Ulquiorra. It seems that the boy's zanpaktou has split its power in half, and the Hollow half of that power is currently overriding the other. This causes a Hollow mask to appear after he has taken collateral damage, and reduces the damage that would other wise kill him. The boy's will is very strong, enough to keep it at bay for now, and as such, I am putting him under your command Grimmjow."

The feral grin intensified upon Grimmjow's face. He would have laughed, but kept his control, it wouldn't help to have the shinigami boy removed from him and given to another of the Espada.

'Fuck, this is gonna' be good!'

---

The almost carnal look in Grimmjow's eyes unnerved Ichigo to no end. The piercing blue eyes had him trapped like a deer in the headlights. The unrelenting stare was making shivers run down his spine. In anticipation or fear, he couldn't tell.

He did know, however, that he was excited. Ichigo knew from the second the man walked into the room that he was powerful and he was ashamed to admit that the man was far more powerful than himself. Ichigo was defenceless. Aizen had removed his zanpaktou the second he had been pulled into Hueco Mundo, with a simple blast of reiatsu.

Ichigo stretched as much as he could to get out of the beam, to no avail. If anything, he had made his situation worse. His kimonos were almost completely off his shoulders and his hakama were riding dangerously low on his hips. If he moved any more his whole body would be on show for the Espada, what ever they were, to see. Judging by the look Grimmjow was giving him, that wouldn't be the wisest thing to do right now. He just had to stay calm and think of anyway to get out of there or someway to contact Soul Society.

Until then he had to just put up with this 'Grimmjow-bastard'. From what he had heard, the beam still made it impossible to see the Hollow's features, Ichigo could deduce very little about Grimmjow. Only that he was arrogant, loud-mouthed, very foul-mouthed, though Ichigo could say little about that before becoming a hypocrite, possessive, yes, even Ichigo had heard that growl …

Bastard.

In short, Ichigo did not like Grimmjow. He was everything that Ichigo hated in a person, times ten probably, as Ichigo could hardly judge his level of arrogance without actually seeing the guy … thing … Hollow.

When Aizen had started talking about how Ichigo had gotten his powers back, Ichigo had started to gag. Said Inner Hollow, it seemed, wanted to join the party. Screaming something about 'like calls to like'. He had gotten really aggravated when Aizen had announced Grimmjow's ownership of 'King'. That was pretty weird. Ichigo didn't even want to try to think about what was going through that sick fuck's mind, if it even had a mind.

The scraping of chairs and the sudden shadow cast over him caused him to look up. Only to find a very smug Aizen towering over him. Aizen placed a hand on his shoulder and leant down close to him, that infuriating smile still in place. It took Ichigo a moment to realise that Aizen was waiting for an answer to a question that Ichigo hadn't heard him ask. Ichigo could only stay silent and wait for him to repeat himself or have Aizen hit him and then repeat himself.

What happened was far worse in Ichigo's books.

Aizen let his hand travel slowly up from Ichigo's shoulder to his neck just to stop under his jaw, where it cupped the side of his face and gently tipped Ichigo's head to Aizen could look directly into Ichigo's eyes.

In a panic Ichigo tried to avert his gaze, but Aizen's grip tightened unbearably and he wouldn't let Ichigo budge one inch. He felt a hint of true fear that day. The Lord and Master of Hueco Mundo was standing before him, holding his jaw in a death grip that could easily crush it. While Ichigo was bound to a chair more than half naked and his captor was smiling.

Smiling.

Ichigo may have felt better if Aizen had had a maniacal grin and crazy eyes. But still with the smile. Aizen would have been an excellent interrogator; he could have gotten any hardened criminal to sing like a canary by just entering a room. He even had most of the Hollows in this dimension doing his bidding without a second thought or complaint. Ichigo didn't know what the bastard Aizen had promised them, if anything, but it must be good enough to have a shinigami of all things barging in and suddenly just telling you that you had to obey or else. If Ichigo didn't hate him so much, he may have been impressed.

"Ichigo," Aizen began, all formalities dropped, on his side anyway, "While you are here you are under to command of Grimmjow Jeagerjaques. You will refer to him as Grimmjow-sama and you will obey everything he says. What ever he orders you will do. Unless, of course, it conflicts with what I have ordered. For example," he paused briefly, flickering his gaze over Ichigo's face, "If I were to command that you are to come to my private chambers at exactly 9AM and 9PM, but Grimmjow orders you not to leave his room. You would obey my order. Understand, Ichigo-kun?'

Ichigo barely managed a nod and a small, "Hai," Suddenly, the grip on his jaw tightened, putting even more pressure on his mouth.

"When you address me as Aizen-sama, Ichigo-kun. Say it."

'Hai, Aizen-sama." Came the quick reply. Ichigo held back the urge to gag, the name felt like dirt in his mouth. He was sickened by how weak he was, how easily he got captured and how there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

"That's better, don't you think. I like it. I hope to be hearing it a lot more under more intimate conditions." His grip on Ichigo's jaw loosened once more, but still remained in place. Ichigo, however, really did feel physically sick. Those last two words rang like death chimes through his head. He hoped that they didn't mean what he thought they did, though he resigned himself to the fact that they most likely did.

'It just gets worse and worse …'

"Ichigo, before I send for a Numero to take you to your new master's quarters, I want you to promise me something. You can consider it your first order."

"Hai, Aizen-sama." It made his stomach churn every time he thought about saying it, but he may as well get used to it. Survive. That was his main priority. To remain alive with as many limbs intact as possible.

"Good. You must promise to not, under any circumstances, let Grimmjow kiss your lips."

Ichigo's eyebrows went sky-high. Of all the things he could have ordered him to do, or not do. But then again, he had said something about intimate conditions. Aw hell no. 'He better not be implying what I think he is, but then again …'

"Also, you may never speak about this with Grimmjow, under any circumstances. Also, you must come to my rooms at 9AM and 9PM. Even if Grimmjow is keeping you preoccupied."

Ichigo was realising how awkward the situation was becoming and was more than relieved when Aizen moved away from him, not without caressing his cheek again though.

Shudder …

Ichigo was in a daze and didn't remember replying, or walking to Grimmjow's room and winding up in front of door very tall doors that almost reached the never-ending ceiling with an equally large number 6 on the front.

The nameless Numero knocked 6 times upon the door then led Ichigo inside. He instructed to wait at the door on the opposite end of the room and to not move until 'Grimmjow-sama', Gag, addressed him. Ichigo was too lost in surveying the room that he missed the bow of the Arrancar and the suffix added to his name, he remained in blissful ignorance.

The first thing that sprung to mind was 'White'. Everything in the room was white; the walls, the ceiling, the floor, most of the furniture. Especially, Ichigo grimaced, the very large, king-sized bed that took up a heck of a lot of wall space on the opposite wall.

There were three doors leading of from the main room. The one he assumed was a closet, a bathroom, from the sounds of the running shower, and the pair of doors that stood behind him. The glass double doors seemed to lead out onto a balcony. He chanced a look through, not daring to go out just yet. All he saw was sand, and dead trees, everywhere. There was no sign of any life at all. Not even a stray Hollow or two. Not that he had any big expectations of a paradise island, though it would have been helpful t the atmosphere around this place. All he felt was death and decay, and hollowness.

A sudden chill turned Ichigo to the fact that he was still partially naked. His kimonos and obi were barely tied. Still facing the window he went to reach for the white under kimono that was hanging off his left shoulder, but he felt a pair of eyes burning into his back. His hand stilled.

"Who said you could put your clothes back on?" It came in a rough baritone drawl. A shiver ran down Ichigo's spine and this time it wasn't from the cold. He was about to turn around to face the Espada, but he was stopped.

"Don't turn around. I didn't tell you to face me." Ichigo was getting more annoyed by the second. If Ichigo hadn't been smart, he would've already turned around and attacked the bastard. Ichigo may be your typical hot-headed red-head, but stupid he most certainly was not. But then again Ichigo thought grimly, if he had been smart he wouldn't have ended up in this goddamn place.

Yes, Ichigo was pretty pissed off. And this Grimmjow-bastard just had to had more fuel to the already blazing bonfire that was our lil' Ichi-kun's fierce temper.

"Listen shinigami, what I say goes. You call me Grimmjow-sama, and I'll call you whatever the hell I like. Understand?" Without even waiting for a confirmation, he continued on. "Good. Now get over to the bed, eyes down, get on the bed with your eyes closed and face the balcony, take off your clothes slowly, and then get on all fours, facing the head board, legs spread wide. Move."

The will to defy him and just stand there was very hard to overcome, but it was eventually overruled by the desire to live. Ichigo wanted to run, wanted to break down the doors in front of him and leap off the balcony. Anything but this. He could hear his Hollow yelling at him, for being weak, for being so submissive and everything else it could think of.

All Ichigo could think of was pain. It was a foreign experience of course. Physical pain he could handle slices from zanpaktous, broken bones, anything. But his was different. The mental abuse he was receiving from Hichigo (1) was enough to drive him insane. The thought of what could happen was tearing apart his gut with sick apprehension.

But still, the will to survive blared strongly within him. If he gave this up, all that was left of the very little innocence he still possessed, just to make it slightly more bearable, then he would hand it to the bastard on a silver platter. The Espada's reiatsu level was far greater than his own; he wouldn't stand one minute against even some of the weaker Arrancar in his current state. Without his zanpaktou, he was completely and utterly defenceless.

Keeping his eyes trained to the floor, as instructed, he made his way to the bed, making sure he at least felt the presence of the Espada at all times even if he couldn't see him.

He crawled slowly to the middle of the bed; the feel of the white silk sheets was not comforting at all. They felt almost wet beneath his fingers; like cold sweat. He closed his eyes with a surge of regret and reached, once again to his left shoulder, this time his black kimono. He kept his movements neat and fluid. Unsure what to do with his clothes he placed them to his left, just off the edge of the king-sized bed. He proceeded to his white under-kimono and again tossed it aside.

He felt the eyes of his master trailing over his chest. Roaming his tanned neck, his toned stomach and resting just below his white obi, which was the next piece of clothing to come off. The thin band of white material was barely keeping his hakama on his hips and the slightest pull would have his hakama dropping to the bed. He decided to be a little daring and experimentally stood up, one hand on the obi to try and make it obvious what he was going to do.

After hearing nothing from wherever Grimmjow was, (He had taken a seat on one of the large white chairs directly facing the bed), he continued, trying to drag this ordeal out as long as possible. The hand gripping his obi pulled upon it lightly and he felt his hakama flow down his legs, pooling around his ankles on the bed.

And there he stood. At the complete mercy of the Espada. Ichigo had never wished more that he didn't go commando in spirit form, even if it only gave him a few extra seconds more, anything to keep the inevitable from happening.

He slowed his movements' right down, almost to a standstill. He fell to his knees, turned around, spread his legs apart and arched his back. He opened his eyes at last, but kept them locked on to the silk sheets beneath him.

It seemed like a life time before Grimmjow spoke again, the sound of his deep baritone filling Ichigo with fearful apprehension.

"This is exactly how I want to find you after every meeting I have with Aizen. I ain't gonna give you any warnings. Do it or I'll fuck you bone dry. Understand?"

"Hai … Grimmjow-sama." Ichigo had never felt more worthless in his entire life. How could this one person make him feel so low? If he could have, Ichigo may have cried, something he hadn't done since his mother's passing. He had sworn that he would never cry again, but this was the closest he had ever been since out of sheer disgust in himself. That however wasn't an option.

"Good. Now your orders. You are not to put any clothes back on until your uniform arrives and you are not to leave this room under any circumstances. Understand? Good. Now get over here. I want a proper look at you; you have permission to raise your head."

Ichigo was overcome with anticipation. He would finally lay eyes upon the thing that could possibly make his life a living hell. He moved swiftly, despite his current predicament. He stood before the bed and slowly raised his head, eyes being the last thing to lift.

He gazed upon the figure of pure destruction (2).

What caught his attention first was the shade of the Espada's hair. Ichigo was not unaccustomed to weird shades of hair, he himself bore the weirdest bright orange unruly hair he, and a lot of other people, had ever seen. But Grimmjow's was in a league of its own.

Blue. Yes, blue. But not just any run-of-the-mill blue, it was bright cyan. The sort of in your face kind that draws you to it, even though you know it may burn your eyes out, shade of cyan. A few strands fell straight into his sky blue eyes, which were full of something Ichigo didn't quite understand. They darted about his body, never resting for too long on any particular part.

Ichigo wasn't ashamed of his body; in fact he thought he was above okay. He hadn't ever considered himself hot, he wasn't that arrogant. His sister Karin had told him that he could easily get a girlfriend if he didn't scowl all the time. He wasn't really that interested in that sort of thing. He had never touched a girl like that. If he was to be perfectly honest he had never really thought about it, not as often as the average male apparently does anyway.

He found his situation sickeningly ironic at that moment. And ventured forward to the large white chair Grimmjow was currently sitting on. He wasn't surprised to see the toned abs, arms, legs and chest. Even the Hollow hole didn't surprise him in the slightest. Human form or not, this thing was still a Hollow.

Grimmjow's uniform consisted of a pair of white hakama with a black obi. A short open jacket, which displayed everything, with a large black collar.

The thing that surprised Ichigo was the large, white set of teeth on the outside of Grimmjow's right cheek and jaw. The mask was large and the teeth sharp, like a wild animal's. It seemed to smirk along with the Espada who beckoned Ichigo to stand before him.

Ichigo did as he was bidden and waited for his 'master' to make the next move. Large hands reached up and gripped loosely onto his hips. They rested there for a moment before pulling him down onto Grimmjow's thighs. Ichigo landed with a soft, barely audible gasp of surprise.

Grimmjow gave a deep groan upon contact. Ichigo could feel Grimmjow's hardness through his white hakama. Ichigo froze. Even the slightest movement on his part made the smallest of groans come forth from Grimmjow's throat. The Sexta Espada had other ideas, apparently.

Grimmjow began grinding his hips up to Ichigo's and before he could stop himself, he made one of the most wanton sounds Grimmjow had ever had the pleasure to hear.

'Like music to my ears, shinigami. Let's see what other noises you can make.'

While Ichigo detested the thought of being treated like the 'shiny, new toy', his main thought was still 'survival'.

Grimmjow reached up to Ichigo's lower back and scraped his nails down to Ichigo's entrance where he stuck in one finger and moved it around inside, must to Ichigo's displeasure. He hated sounding so weak and damn his body for betraying him and being responsive.

As he got used to the feeling of the single digit, Grimmjow managed to brush across a spot that caused Ichigo to see stars and moan very loudly and, much to his chagrin, very wantonly again.

'Well, well shinigami. Never thought you'd be this easy to wind up. You like that, right? What about this?'

Ichigo felt the finger being pulled almost all of the way out and two more poking at his entrance. He braced himself for the pain he was undoubtedly going to receive.

But it never came …

He felt the grip on his lower back tightening as the form beneath him grew tense.

'What the hell are you doing here?' Grimmjow growled out.

What the hell?


First Bleach/Grimmichi fanfic, so I'm a little nervous.

I hadn't intended for it to be a multi-chapter, but I'm going to have to. The complete story would be far to ridiculously long for a One-shot – which it was supposed to be originally.

Please Review

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