Gremlin's earliest memories weren't from his home planet or from after his awakening on Earth; they were from a time he'd lived much as any other Earth feline did. So maybe calling them "memories" was gratuitous, because much of the recall from that bizarre period in his life wasn't as clear as his memories from after coming to realize who and what he was. His "cat" memories were more accurately like... feelings of memories. And those were what shaped him, as memories of anything prior were almost completely gone.

When he thought back to his feline years, there weren't any specific or graphic scenes. There was a fog hanging over that part of his life, as if he'd been drunk, and he could really only remember feeling what it had been like to be in such a state.

Survival had been at the top of his list of priorities, all the time. For a grimy, hairless thing like him, even a cool summer night could be dangerous if he couldn't find someplace warm to settle, and it felt like nearly every other living thing he came in contact with was larger than him, so a threat by virtue of that. He had to proceed everywhere with caution in case there was nowhere to take shelter, and there was definitely a need to map out necessary food acquisitions because if he ate too little, he wouldn't have the fat reserves to withstand a simple breeze, never mind the ever-present fear of starvation.

Survival only. Looking out for himself above anything else because he didn't have the mental ability to keep track of more than that. Friends didn't exist for ugly, starving cats, and there was a certain jealousy that came with knowing other, prettier felines had more luck begging an easy meal from gushing humans.

But Gremlin? Gremlin was chased away for fear of making other cats, customers, or children ill. He was a grimy, mangy street cat, not a sweet, fluffy baby who just needed some love.

They didn't like him, he didn't like them. Fine.

It eventually amounted to more than that. He couldn't be seen scrounging around dumpsters, or the humans would think some "rabid animal" was on the premises. And there would be trouble. They threw things at him. Usually missed, not always. They snapped the dumpster lid closed while he was inside. Sometimes the lid was warped. He could escape through the bent plastic. Sometimes he bolted out with a yowl and fled down the alley the second someone else opened the bin. Once he'd been upended into the dump truck, and... the rest was just feelings.

That was what he remembered most fear, fear, fear. Hurt, because his leg had been crushed by garbage piling on top of him, the great maw of the truck's crushing jaws sliding closed as he clawed his way forward over ripped bags and stinking debris. Dread for death. He'd lost the game of survival. And it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair how much easier the others had it, even if they were beautiful, silky, and plump...

He'd been born like this. He wasn't ugly; he was just different. No one wanted to feed him. No one wanted to pet Gremlin. Him against the world, and he was only one small cat. How could he possibly be strong enough to survive all the opposition?

He'd plopped gracelessly down onto the street as the truck drove away, smashing up all the garbage he'd climbed out of while its oblivious drivers left him behind.

Would they have even cared if they'd noticed him? Had they noticed him and just decided not to do anything about it? That was so wrong. And all because some stupid human had clapped a lid closed on him to keep him away from their shop. What Gremlin felt wasn't just a wary fear of something bigger than him. It was hatred for something that mistreated him because he wasn't soft and fluffy like others of his kind. Hatred. Most cats didn't feel hatred.

But he wasn't exactly like most cats.

It was when his star appeared. Didn't do much to help his leg, though. He hadn't known how to set it, and no one else had ever offered to take a peek. (not that he'd gotten close enough for anyone else to see). So it just healed as it was, crumpled and ugly and gimp. The game of survival had become more difficult, but with that, he'd at least started to notice other things, realize and understand better ways to look out for himself.

And now Gremlin glared from his perch atop the refrigerator.

The senshi he was staying with didn't live alone. He lived with older humans who didn't know what Gremlin was, and Gremlin was often subjected to their presence when he stayed in Cervantite's home.. They weren't cruel like the people on the street, but they were wary. Perhaps because he skittered around them and glowered unwelcomingly whenever one of them entered the room.

The older woman noticed him belatedly, only after she'd retrieved what she was looking for from the refrigerator. She started back with a little gasp, dark eyes fixed up at him. And then she had the audacity to start grumbling at him in tongues! "आह! ये तो होना ही था... वो मनहूस चीज़ मुझे घूर रही है... Shoo!" Accentuated with a flick of her wrist in his direction, to which Gremlin responded with a hiss of his own.

"Ellian! Come get your cat out of the kitchen! मुझे पता है कि उसके गंदे पंजे काउंटर टॉप पर थे!"

Gremlin recoiled back until his rump hit the wall, adamantly staying out of reach because he could not be retrieved like someone's malmannered mutt. The top of the fridge had taken the woman completely out of his vision, but he heard her huff and then start to depart. Hardly a handful of moments passed between that and another scuffling of footsteps.

"Gremlin?" Ellian grumbled. "Hey, are you in here? You know my mom doesn't like the thought of dirty cats up on the counters and around food."

He lurched to the edge of the fridge, glaring down as he hissed out, "I am not. Dirty."

"I know! I didn't say you were! But Ma is just normal, and she thinks you're just normal, and most normal housecats rummage their paws around in a litterbox, y'know? C'mon down from there, okay? I don't want her to get mad at you- and then me for not taking care of you. I bet the minifridge top is just as warm, anyway."

Gremlin's answering grumble was high and rolling.

And then Ellian's answer to that was to fumble around for him with his hands atop the fridge, trying to grab him and pull him down. "You're being really contrary, okay. Quit it and just come back to the bedroom."

So Gremlin hissed again, and swatted at Ellian's fumbling fingers with claws bared. "I'm not your pet!"

The boy had the good sense to jerk his arm back before Gremlin's claws found purchase, but he released an annoyed and exasperated and loud groan. And then his voice lowered, because they still weren't really alone. "I know, but we have to sort of follow the rules while we live here, okay? And I don't have any money to live anywhere else."

"I bet you haven't even looked."

"Looked for what? A place? I mean, we can look all you want, but that doesn't mean we can afford to go anywhere else."

Gremlin's head poked warily over the edge of the fridge as he stared down at Ellian. "We can look?" He prompted, intrigued by the implication that he could somehow participate in this.

And Ellian seemed to pick up on that. "Uh, yeah, mhm. We can look together on the computer. Do you want to? There are lots of apartment complexes in the city. The websites show you floorplans and everything. But I'm telling you it's not really going to be any nicer than here." Where there was a level of privacy and the pond down the hill and the pool in the backyard and a stocked fridge supplied by someone else.

But Gremlin thought he'd like to see what else the city offered, and it'd be enjoyable to not live this stupid double-live of having to hide from Ellian's mother all the time. He thunked loudly to the ground, grumbling out a, "Fine, we'll look," as he trotted down the hallway, with Ellian following not far behind.