AN: Seeing as I updated "Champagne" last (after a three year hiatus no doubt), I feel like this update is especially warranted. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed in my absence - you guys are a huge part of why I decided to write again! I'll be updating this fic and my other again as soon as I possibly can! Much love!

~The Next Evening~

The Phantom of the Opera gives a soft grunt as he dispatches himself from one of his tunnels. His feet hardly making a sound, he glides between the ropes and pullies keeping the scene below him afloat with an almost feline grace, being especially careful not to repeat the previous night's catastrophe. He'd been mentally berating himself ever since the accident, not only because Orihime almost saw him, but because he'd gathered that she'd helped with the men's work to pull the tarp back up, and he absolutely wretched at the idea of her having to trouble herself over a clumsy mistake that he made.

Eventually, he finds a comfortable spot in the shadows above the stage, carefully seating himself and then giving a rather irritated sigh.

Nelliel is singing – loudly – again.

Below, rehearsals are underway, just as always- though due to the summertime heat, the dancers and actors in the production are clearly more uncomfortable. The Phantom, especially being so close to the lamps, is no exception. Careful to avoid his mask, he wipes some sweat from his half-uncovered face, wishing that the summertime heat would cease in being so relentless. His mood has shifted down despite his being able to see Orihime dance, and he can't hide his faint irritation when Nelliel hits a particularly high note- one that makes him grit his teeth and want to plug his ears. The aria continues at the behest of the stage manager and Monsieur Aizen, who seems to be in much too good a mood considering the unpleasant circumstances. Frowning to himself, the Phantom inspects the scene closer, watching as Orihime's clearly overworked body sways to and fro across the slick with sweat stage. The groaning that follows Ulquiorra's walking stick rapping across the ground sometime later is near loud enough to overshadow the terrible singing coming from the opposite side of the stage.

"Stop, that is enough!" The rather short man commands.

The dancer's bodies fall into something of a heap, men and women alike nursing their bleeding toes and swollen ankles. Orihime is no stranger to this practice, and the Phantom can only wince as he watches her adjust her ballet shoes whilst giving a hiss of pain. Nelliel, mistaking Ulquiorra's command as directed towards her, also ceases in her aria, which causes the Phantom to relax faintly in his seat. Monsieur Aizen, though unpleased with the sudden change of events, gives a heaving sigh before arising from his seat and stepping up to the stage. Ulquiorra, upon seeing the man doing this, repeats his previous gesture to catch the large groups attention, before stepping aside quietly.

"Thank you, Monsieur Schiffer." The man begins, adjusting the collar on his shirt, beads of sweat trickling down his face. "I suppose now would be the best time to make tonight's announcements, as it seems all of us need a moment to rest."

The crowd gives a soft murmur of laughing assent, most of the group nodding their heads and grinning sheepishly. Even Orihime, tired as she is, joins in this, her patient personality shining through. The Phantom can only give a soft chuckle in response, though a faint wave of guilt washes over him in knowing that he likely made today even worse for her. He watches, bemusedly, as Nelliel steps up to face the crowd, wondering what the daily announcements could possibly have to do with her. This puzzlement only continues when he sees Orihime deflate at the sight of her friend in front of the crowd, and he curses himself for not having been listening in on her the night before, as he's sure Orihime must know something that he does not. His bewilderment is not unreasonable- as soon as the rest of the cast sees the young woman stepping up, they immediately give a concerned hum, only to lull when the Prima Donna begins to speak.

"I suppose none of you expect to see me up here today," She begins. "But I thought it best to inform you of this news, as it will affect you all rather largely."

The Phantom gives a sort of snort in response, his foul mood rising up again. He immediately takes her words for pride.

"I have been at this opera house for as long as I can remember," she says gently. "Many of you, I've known since I was just a young girl, chasing around the skirts of her mother's dresses."

Monsieur Schiffer seems to blanche at the mention of this, his knuckles turning white as he grips his walking stick. Nobody notices.

"Despite all this, however, I'm afraid that I've come to a decision I never thought I would have to make."

Her voice breaks faintly at the close of her sentence, and both Monsieur Aizen and her husband are beside her at once, aiming to give comfort.

"At the conclusion of this production, I'm afraid I will be leaving the Opera house."

The Phantom's jaw goes slack as an uproar builds from the crowd. Orihime is the only silent member of the cast- questions immediately rise and accusations are thrown as Monsieur Aizen and Monsieur Schiffer attempt to control the noise, unfortunately finding it difficult to do so. The most pressing question, and the one at the forefront of all of the commotion, is simply who will be taking her place. Nelliel's career had enjoyed great success during its very present lifetime, just as her mother's had before her, and with such a lineage to stand up to, the entire group is unsure of who could possibly live up to it. Even Orihime, who has met many a great singer and dancer in her life, can hardly imagine such a voice that could stand up to Nelliel's.

The Phantom leans back carefully in his seat, faintly amused at the idea of a new Prima Donna in the house. He cannot imagine a rehearsal without the green haired woman's voice persistently entering into his ears, and yet the idea seems much more pleasant than the current predicament. The only issue he can find with the situation is, quite frankly, Orihime. He glances down at the young woman who has yet to say a word, watching as she buries her head in her knees. He empathizes with her, his eyebrows furrowing together tightly as the rest of the crew chatters on excitedly about the upcoming show. She has never known such loneliness- even after her brother passed away, she had Nelliel there, but now it seems she will be left to the same existence of which the Phantom has lived in for what seems like an eternity. If only he could reach out somehow and comfort her... he would give anything to stand beside her.

His thoughts are interrupted when a new set of figures enter the house, from stage right. A young man with bright orange hair, joined by a woman of shorter stature and deep raven hair, come into view. Befuddled, the Phantom watches as Aizen gestures them to join him as Nelliel departs from her spot. Orihime, The Phantom doesn't fail to notice, has not picked up her head yet.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I also have another announcement to make." Monsieur Aizen begins, giving a faint glance over to Monsieur Schiffer, who promptly silences the room. "In recent months, despite tickets being sold rather quickly, my ability to provide for you all and for the house has become much more difficult. In order to combat this issue, and the very present situation of our current Prima Donna leaving, I have managed to convince a Viscount to be a patron for our Opera de las Noches."

The room quiets to a dead silence as Aizen motions over to the pair that had walked in only a moment ago. In the now clear light of the stage, The Phantom gives a rather sheepish frown at the absurdity of their attire- nothing could make the line between this patron and another more clear. The materials of both of their clothing are thick and well sewn, and the woman wears diamonds around her neck and twirls them beneath her fingers as if they're candy. The gentleman, who compared to his wife seems less ornate, is only just so, though his sheepish grin gives an impression of humbleness that the Phantom did not expect.

"I present to you all, the Vicount de Chagny, Ichigo Kurosaki, and his wife, Rukia."

Orihime's head suddenly snaps up from her knees, as if she's been struck by a brilliant thought, and the masked man's stomach immediately drops at the bright smile she gives to the man as their eyes meet. A childish brightness takes on her countenance, and for a split second it's as if they're alone in the room. Kurosaki's wife, immediately seeing this, gives a bewildered look that is quickly transfixed into a bright smile when he whispers something to her quietly.

The rest of the announcements go by rather quickly after the fact, as the Phantom can hardly keep his anxiety at bay. By the time he's noticed things are changing, the announcements are coming to a close and rehearsals are being dismissed. He watches, in faint horror, as Orihime approaches the gentleman, who immediately embraces her with a gentleness he's only dreamed of holding her with himself.

"You're just as beautiful as the day I last saw you, Orihime." He immediately says, stepping out of the embrace. "Only much more grown up- you've become quite a young woman- and it seems you've taken up ballet!"

Her cheeks flush immediately, and the Phantom feels his heart lurch when the Viscount suddenly has a similar visage. What could he possibly be to her- this rich, striking young man – that would have them both look at each other so?

"Ichigo tells me you two were once fast friends," Madam Kurosaki begins. "You met when he rescued your scarf, am I correct?"

Orihime gives a bell like laugh in response, Grimmjow becomes nearly breathless at the sound.

"He soaked himself to the bone running out into the sea to fetch it! I could hardly believe it!"

The Phantom clutches at his chest faintly, a faint scowl expanding along from behind his mask. He watches as they continue to speak in friendly turn, wariness rushing him quickly when he notices the Viscount has yet to take his eyes off Orihime. The Phantom has no reason to believe that a marriage would abate any feelings the young man before or presently has for Orihime – and he doubts that Monsieur Kurosaki was used to being told "no" by anyone, least of all a lady.

"You must join us for supper," Ichigo began, his wife nodding in quick agreement. "There's so much I have yet to tell you, and it's been so long!"

"As much as I would love to," The phantom recoils at the word. "I have rehearsals with the other dancers a little later this evening, and Monsieur Schiffer wouldn't hesitate to chastise me if I missed them for a night out, even if it is with you."

Ichigo glances toward the ballet instructor, who stands at the opposite side of the stage with a handful of papers in his hands, face set in an emotionless and yet somewhat frightening way. He grins at his long-lost friend faintly as he turns back to her.

"Then I suppose we'll have to reschedule. How does tomorrow evening sound?"

The Phantom holds his breath for her reply, watching in anguish as she nearly bounces with joy.

"I'd be delighted."

At this, the phantom turns to retreat back into his tunnels, heart twisting vehemently in his ribcage. His anxiety practically overwhelming him, he struggles to push back the panic flowing into his mind to no avail…

Orihime watches silently from the stage as Ichigo and his wife, Madam Kurosaki, make their way toward the exit of the Opera House, one arm gently holding onto the other. The entire company seems determined to rush them for questions given their new position, and she can't help but feel a little badly for them both. She's no stranger to the wild antics of the staff of the Opera de las Noches, and to have all of their attention pointed at anything seems overwhelming, even to someone who is used to it.

She fights down the nervousness that had taken her while she was talking with the pair, giving a faint groan. She hadn't seen Ichigo since she was fourteen, and she likes to imagine that she was much different then, compared to the woman she is today. She only hopes that it seemed so. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear carefully, she glances up above her, wondering.

If the Opera Ghost is real, she can't help but imagine that all of this had taken him by surprise just as it had her.

Patting her heated cheeks, she wills the last bit of anxiety about the situation to the back of her mind, wishing she wasn't so excitable. How ridiculous that she couldn't even chat with an old friend without heat arresting her face so obviously.

"It seems you already knew the Viscount." Monsieur Schiffer murmurs, startling her out of her thoughts. "At least you'll need not be left as alone as I'm sure you thought at first, Miss Inoue."

Giving a gentle smile to her teacher, Orihime nods.

"I must say, it does give me a little comfort knowing that even with Nelliel gone, I'll have someone I call friend here to speak to."

The Ballet Teacher gives a faint nod, glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes.

"Are we not friends, Miss Inoue?" He says gently, navigating his walking stick before him, resting both hands on the glittering jewel atop the thing. "I may be your instructor, but I have always held you in high esteem as an acquaintance, even despite our age difference."

"Ah, well… of course…" She can't help but feel a little ashamed of herself, having not thought about how her dearest friend's father would feel. He had been a great friend to Sora when he was alive, but she never thought that the notion would extend in her direction. "I apologize, Monsieur Schiffer, I didn't mean to offend."

"Never you mind it." He replies, looking away from her again. "I know I'm well past your age, and I'm sure you see me as nothing more than an old man."

"No! No of course not!" She quickly rebuts, face already tinging red in embarrassment. "You had Nelliel very young, after all… we just don't speak as often."

"Well, with my daughter leaving the house, I suppose we will have plenty of time to remedy that situation." He says, no hint of humor in his voice, despite the small upward curving of his lips.

She agrees quickly, biting her lip faintly. How naïve she must have sounded to him! Surely he'll be just as lonely with Nelliel gone as herself.

"I will see you later this evening for rehearsals, Miss Inoue."

He departs her then, leaving her feeling somewhat unsettled by the conversation. By no means had Ulquiorra ever seemed anything but proper, and yet, she couldn't help but think that perhaps he was making fun of her.

She glances back to the exit of the Opera House, noting that Ichigo and Rukia have already left, and with another faint sigh turns to head back to her room to prepare for rehearsals…

Orihime enters her room, the weight of all that had happened that day and the day before finally catching up with her. She gently rubs at her shoulder, giving a tired smile.

"Ah Sora-nii, I wish you could play for me right now…" She thinks to herself sadly.

Making her way to the seat facing her vanity, she sits, staring at her reflection for a moment. Then, she remembers.

Like a ghost on the wind, she begins to hear her brother's playing, faint and sweet. With a deep breath she closes her eyes… and then begins to sing.

No, what I love best Lottie says

Is when I'm asleep in my bed

And the Angel of Music sings song in my head…

"The Angel of Music sings songs in my head…"

Orihime starts violently, her eyes bursting open at the sound of a voice that was not hers, not a memory of her brother's, but someone or something else. She spins around in her seat wildly, glancing about the room fervently, a cold chill working its way up her back. Her face gone pale, she stands, her head swinging wildly this way and that, hand clutching at her chest.

"Orihime… don't be frightened…"

Oh God, why in the hell had he said anything?

The Phantom, cramped and sweating, sits in the tunnel above Orihime's room, panicking. He hadn't really thought when he began echoing in her song, and then the only natural response he could muster to her terror was to tell her not to be.

But what now?

"W-who's there?" Orihime calls, her head still whipping around violently. He has mere seconds to decide what to do before he's fairly certain she'll bolt from the room, and that's just judging by her voice.

Grimmjow grits his teeth a little, mind racing.

And it's in this racing that he finds his answer.

The memory of her previous encounter with the Viscount sends his jealousy into an inferno – but it's the memory of her response that gives him an idea.

"I have rehearsals with the other dancers a little later this evening, and Monsieur Schiffer wouldn't hesitate to chastise me if I missed them…"

"I… am your Angel of Music."

He hears her back into her bed, and then sit down.

"A-angel?"

"Calm yourself my child. I have great plans for you – plans for your voice…" he says gently, thanking God above that she hasn't flown from the room in a frenzy yet.

"I know no Angels… someone told me once that they would send one to me from heaven, but… all I know now are phantoms."

The mistrust in her voice is clear, and he can tell she's implying that he's not what he's portraying himself to be. He can hear her breath shudder – damn those Phantom rumors, and that foolish lineman for starting them! He hesitates to continue.

"Your brother Sora asked that I come to you in your time of need." He says loathly, not liking to lie about such a tender subject, but seeing no other choice. "So I am here, to fill your lonely hours, and to give you the gift of music."