A/N: Happy New Year, to you all.

This is no excuse, but the past 6+ months haven't been easy. Many times I sat staring at this chapter, and I'm still baffled as to the source of my block. But I feel it turned out better this way. Thank you for bearing with me.

Disclaimer: I disclaim ownership. (This should be enough to get me out of a lawsuit, right?) Hah. As if KT even knows who I am v(;-;)v

V

"Can you move no faster, Grimmjow?" Ulquiorra inquired with mild annoyance, glancing back at his lagging companion as they sped through the high branches of the oversized trees.

"Screw you," Grimmjow cursed at him, "What's the rush? Our job's done."

"As we are still within hostile territory, I remain uncertain as to the wisdom of sending your men ahead, unsupervised," the brunet returned with a pointed look. "Given their temperaments, I wouldn't be surprised to find them in a fight with the locals."

"As long as they're winning, I don't give a shit," the blue-haired man smirked, knowing how much his blasé attitude irked the other.

Expecting a retort, Grimmjow huffed in irritation as Ulquiorra ignored him and sped on, his pace just short of Sonido. "Will you relax? They're not dumb enough to actually-"

Further ahead, a woman's distant shout rent the air with a tremendous burst of reiatsu.

So much reiatsu, that it was suddenly visible as a rapidly approaching wave of malicious black energy. Ulquiorra buzzed out of its path; Grimmjow didn't consider dodging it, merely shielding his face with his arms.

The oncoming wave smacked into him with full force, yet was unable to move him from his stance. His current tree perch was quite fairly obliterated.

Ulquiorra reappeared from his sudden Sonido, eyes narrowed in the haze of sawdust, woodchips, and residual malevolent energy in the air.

Amidst falling leaves, he studied Grimmjow's fascinated expression as the latter lowered his arms; fully expecting the angry, red welts along the fool's wrists and torso.

"Why didn't you move?" Ulquiorra couldn't resist asking, baffled by the other man's inexplicable inaction.

''Heh." An overly wide smile stretched across the blue-haired man's face, flashing too-sharp canines as he flexed his hands.

Grimmjow let loose a murderous chuckle, eyes glinting with bloodlust as he darted forward, "Looks like my boys found something interesting!"

O

OOO

O

"Where is it?"

His head swung back from the blow, nasal cartilage giving way under the unforgiving force.

'Spirits, how could something so small cause so much damage?'

The voice came again, echoing unpleasantly in his ringing ears. "Where is your home city?" the woman asked, tone curt.

Nakim spat blood into her face, sneering despite the excruciating ache of his badly beaten body. The retaliatory backhand came so fast that he hardly felt it until he was on the floor; the chair he was fastened to crashing down loudly under his weight.

She advanced on his prone form leisurely, her steps eerily soundless on the packed dirt.

"You might as well tell us what we want to know," the tiny woman informed him, wiping her face on her sleeve as a foot came down onto his sternum, grinding the bone painfully.

"Th'worst you can do is kill be," he declared nasally, short of breath as she increased the pressure on his chest. He could barely see her sharp features through his swollen right eye; depending heavily on the bleary vision from his bloody left, both of which were suffering under the glare from the kido lights burning at the ceiling.

"You'd like to believe that," she replied quietly, stepping away from him and heading for the room's exit, "but we have ways of prolonging your suffering." She nodded at some unseen character in the dark corner, allowing the person's entry.

"You will talk. The only variable is when."

Emerging from the shadows, a ghastly painted face leered down at him. This wasn't one of his earlier black-clad torturers. He was exuding too much energy. The pale, expressionless face of the young woman behind him was unnerving enough. Added to the man's unnaturally wide smile…

'Who the hell is this?'

White-wrapped braids swinging behind her, the tiny female called to the newcomer maliciously, with just a hint of condescension. "Treat him kindly, Mayuri."

"Most assuredly, Soifon," the man returned in like manner, almost shivering with excitement. "Nemu! Slow girl, set up the exenterating kit!"

"Yes. Mayuri-sama," droned the girl, who set a glossy wooden case on the table beside Nakim's sprawled form. The first 'instrument' she lifted out almost incited heart failure- unfortunately, his body held out.

"Let us begin, Arrancar," the man drawled, the unbalanced look in his eyes growing as the girl closed the door, sealing him in with them.

"You have so much to show me…"

O

OOO

O

The bizarre feeling of being weightless with her guts undulating ceased as the Garganta's darkness faded to a clear night sky and sandy expanse all around.

Ichigo stumbled as she felt her weight return suddenly, falling face first into fine white sand. Someone laughed at her impromptu sprawl- she strongly suspected it might be Grimmjow. Sitting up while spitting, she blinked hazily, squinting at Rukia's sitting form. Noting her sprawl, it was clear that she'd fallen as well.

"Should've warned you about the landing," Grimmjow sneered at her sputtering. "It takes some practice."

Ichigo gave him a baleful stare, moving to dust herself off. She watched Rukia rise; eyeing the trench they had arrived in.

Unrelieved white ground and black, cloudless sky. Sand stretched as far as her eyes could see, in all directions.

The moon was full above them, its' cool light marking the absence of any structures or settlements in the vast, surrounding emptiness. It took her a moment to realize what was off about the place.

No breeze stirred the undisturbed sand; the air remained stiff and surprisingly chilly. She hadn't spotted even a dry bush to alleviate the severity of the stark white ground. Ichigo gave the men a dubious look.

'People live here?'

"Don't stand there looking, start walking!" Grimmjow shoved her forward, striding ahead.

She aimed a nasty glare at his back, dragging her feet through the smooth sand to follow.

O

They journeyed through the cold desert for hours- long enough for the moon to drop low in the sky before vanishing.

Aided now only by the starlit sky, their pace slowed considerably. Cresting the latest dune, they sighted the slim speck against the horizon.

Eventually, they came upon a tilted, towering rod, isolated and conspicuous in its decoration.

"What is that?" Grimmjow sneered at the elaborately carved, bone-white spire rising from the sand.

Coming close, Shawlong made a noise of recognition; Ulquiorra nodding to whatever unknown understanding passed between them.

"I doubt you recall, but before we left, Szayel was redesigning the way to get into the city without travelling round to the gates."

Ilfort sneered at that, muttering something unheard.

Ulquiorra approached the pole, unsheathing his sword and cutting his palm on the blade. He touched his bloody hand to the unstained pattern ringing its circumference.

Nothing happened.

"Well?" Grimmjow asked impatiently, looking around the area for signs of activity.

The blood rolled down, filling the carved patterns on the rod, before abruptly being absorbed. Ichigo expected something spectacular after that, but her imagination couldn't compare to the painful sensation that ran through her body.

Around her, the others flinched at the bone-deep pulses emanating from the rod, backing up as it began to give off a sickly purple light.

"Is it supposed to do that-"

The pulsing ache in her body increased in tempo, and she wasn't sure if she was the only one hearing the ascending ring.

She looked back at the others, then at Grimmjow- no one was moving. It was getting louder.

Her eyes found Rukia, her face scrunched in discomfort just as there was a final deafening note from the rod, before everything went black.

O

OOO

O

Falling...

No, not falling, there was earth beneath her back, and brightening sky above.

So heavy...

She tried to sit up, but her limbs failed her. Her legs were like lead weights, her neck immovable. Her torso was doing a good job shivering, however.

Someone was retching nearby; she checked briefly to see Ichigo's hunched form, involuntarily forcing up bile.

Ah, blurry. What was the wetness running from her ears and nose down her lips?

"She's reacting badly to the transfer," someone said, "Pick her up."

A pair of feet walked into view, kicking sand onto her face and chest. She was snagged and lifted roughly by the hair, but it barely hurt.

"Get her to Szayel before she passes out," came that cold voice again. She couldn't lift her lids to look, so she made due with a side glance as she was carried away.

"Ichigo..." she managed before her tongue became too weighty to move.

Brown eyes met hers briefly, before the latter struggled to her feet, lurching breathlessly after them. "Hey, where are you taking her? Why is she shaking?"

One of the men grabbed her arm, jerking her in a different direction, shortly declaring that it wasn't her concern anymore. "Walk", their leader said, shoving Ichigo ahead.

She started fading as Ichigo put up a struggle- her last remembered sounds consisting of a painful gargle following the meaty sound of a fist buried in the gut.

O

OOO

O

"Fucking hell," Ichigo gagged as she was dragged forward along the rough road, her insteps cutting on the stony path. She was still drooling from the last blow, bile bitter at the back of her throat.

She struggled to find her footing and keep pace with the bizarre hurry they seemed to suddenly be in. The sun would be out soon, its light lending peach tints to the blue sky.

Though she couldn't see any walls in the horizon, the group was a bit more relaxed. They must have finally entered their godforsaken city.

She could not make out any landmarks to link her memories of the area where the rod had been activated, and her heart sank even further at the implications.

She wouldn't be able to escape, and to worsen it all, she had been separated from Rukia.

The large redhead had carried Rukia's limp, bleeding body and taken off to the west, his trail long gone. No one had spoken of what could have gone wrong during the transport, each bearing an unconcerned look at her trepidation for her friend.

From their arrival point, they had apparently advanced north, towards a great dome she could now make out in the azure haze. To their right, the sky brightened as the bare scenery was gradually relieved by small, square buildings.

She could recognise a beaten path now, which wound through the apparent settlement. Fleeting glances of dawn light lit the whitewashed stone walls of the scanty, sandblasted structures, leaving her glimpses of a skeletal selection of haunted faces in the doorways.

The handful of people they actually encountered on the path scurried away hurriedly, faces drawn and diffident. They all gave off an air of broken will.

The outskirts tell a lot about a city, her dad had once said on a long ago trip to a neighbouring town.

A group of children huddled by a particularly dilapidated house, the rags they wore doing little to hide their skinny frames. One spared her a dour glance; his features aged beyond his years.

If it's particularly bad, then you probably shouldn't feel safe even in the capital.

What a wonderful place this would turn out to be.

Apparently noting her lingering looks at the peasants, Grimmjow tugged her trapped arm harder.

"Hurry up, slave," her blue-haired tormentor taunted, jerking her along faster than she could keep up."No time for sightseeing."

She would end this man- she would. She began digging her feet into the loose dirt.

"Go on, keep making your life harder," Grimmjow sneered, his unrelenting grip on her wrist leaving her numb. She jerked in his hold, pulling away fiercely. "Damn it, I can walk on my own. Let me go, you fucking-"

He flung her forward carelessly, and she spun on her heel with the momentum, one hand coming up surprisingly quick to graze his jaw in a speedy blow. The glancing hit provoked a snarl, and he lunged for her, eyes blazing.

His hand found her neck, squeezing her already dry throat closed. Even choking, she scowled straight in his eyes; digging her thumbnail into his wrist and nicking a nerve that sent a twitch up his arm. He grunted in mild discomfort, lifting her off the ground.

Slowly suffocating, she registered that the others had kept walking, secure in the knowledge that her resistance was futile.

Well, fuck their overconfident asses. She kicked out at him twice, catching his knee and calf. His eyes narrowed at her thrashing, teeth bared at her refusal to back down.

"Grimmjow, manhandle her all you want, but save it for later," Ulquiorra supplied, not even turning to watch them struggle.

"Fuck off, Ulquiorra," Grimmjow spat at him, gripping her tighter for an infinitesimal moment longer, before releasing her abruptly. She stumbled back, refusing to massage her aching throat- he wouldn't get the satisfaction of knowing it had hurt.

Hacking as she gulped in air, she gave him a deadly stare; blinking away the involuntary tears in her eyes. For a moment, she thought there was something akin to approval in his gaze, but the strange flash was gone as he stepped close, leaning in.

"Ichigo, right?" he murmured, voice dripping with scorn, "I'm going to break you: one way, or another…"

There was a nasty, suggestive little glance down at her heaving chest, before he shoved past her, his unspoken 'Follow' hanging in the air.

Wheezing faintly, she shook off the chill the statement had left at the base of her spine and turned to trail the others; eyes meeting Ilfort's ahead. The bastard was smirking.

She chose to ignore his glee, instead imagining the finger-shaped bruises that were sure to be forming all over her neck. At the moment, she wondered if she would make it out of this situation alive.

But such thoughts would break her long before Grimmjow could; so she shoved them into the dark corners of her mind and dug around for her resolve, which Zangetsu could have helped with- had the bastards not taken her sword. She eyed her wrapped cleaver forlornly, strapped carelessly along Shawlong's back.

Now she was left with the faint snickers of her unwanted occupant, whose influence was mildly damped by the seal she'd been stuck with, but was obvious still in the bizarre aggression she felt in this dangerous position.

With trudging steps, she shadowed her captors; accepting her fate for the moment as they covered the distance, one thought making her lips stretch in a nasty grin.

At least, if I lose to her here, I'm assured that no one I care for will die a horrible death.

O

It took almost an hour to reach what appeared to be the centre of the city.

They had been waved through a tall slit in a high, well-decorated white wall, which must have been a demarcation for the capital.

The houses had slowly improved from regular and comfortable to an embarrassing display of wealthy residences; decoration ranging from red stucco to mosaic walls and most with bright, silk-curtained balconies overlooking the cobbled ground.

Lush, exotic greenery lined the demarcated roads, the bright blooms and fresh leaves relieving the mostly white buildings and complimenting the bejewelled, well-kept citizens strolling by.

One or two important looking people called out greetings as they advanced, always accompanied by much bowing and scraping. A few also gave her considering glances, unsurprised at her obvious reluctance to be there.

Someone actually offered as they passed his stall, "A studded collar for your pretty?" with an obsequious smile.

So slavery is the norm here. Good to know that no one will ask 'Why' when I'm being held and used against my will.

The city was already quite active, and the sun was only just breaking past the horizon. People previously jostling on the main road; peddling wares, tugging children along or carrying baskets towards the opening shops suddenly gave way at their approach, always with bowed heads and hushed greetings.

Were these kidnappers revered statesmen? Her opinion of the city fell even further at the notion.

Soon there were no surrounding houses, just spreading expanses of flora and what appeared to be fountains, spewing water high into the sky.

Wasn't this the desert? Ichigo mused with a frown. Where were they sourcing enough water to waste on multiple fountains?

They moved up an incline, the road widening and the cobbles improving in quality. The road eventually led into a gigantic square, also well landscaped with what appeared to be an elevated dais at the centre.

Must be where they hold meetings on how to take people from their native lands, she thought scornfully.

The wide road leading from the square eventually led to another demarcating wall, this one engraved with text she couldn't read, and the embossed image of what appeared to be a man with his arms spread wide in what she assumed was a 'welcome'.

Indeed.

They passed through the gate- this one ridiculously ornate in wrought gold and silver-and she noted more guards posted about.

They advanced along rough, white marble paths and through more elaborate gardens, approaching the gleaming white dome ahead. She wasn't sure, but the air -within what she assumed were the palace grounds- was cooler than the outer city.

There must be many high-level kido users to create that effect. She would have been impressed by the area, if she hadn't seen such in the Kuchiki grounds.

In the building sunlight, the dome shimmered different colours as she turned her head. Was that opal? Over such an extensive surface…!

Now that she was so close, the dome appeared even larger, of which she could now see that said dome was simply the roof of the largest palatial structure she had ever seen.

The three walls she could see from their position extended almost halfway to the horizon, said walls dotted with metal-ringed stone pillars and huge, arched entrances. The higher levels were peppered with many smaller arched windows, and numerous standards blew in the mild air, inscribed with text she had yet to recognize.

Looking upwards, she could make out several extremely high towers- complete with miniature domed spires surrounding the palace. They even appeared to have bridges leading to the palace's roof. She counted ten of them, each sporting banners bearing different, unreadable glyphs from their topmost tiers.

So intent was she on the single characters branded on the flapping cloths, that she missed their party's halt.

She froze, nearly bumping into Shawlong's back. She pulled back, looking to the front of the pack. She had no reason to ask what the holdup was- a lanky man swathed in white silk robes stood at the main entrance, giving them the widest, most insincere smile she had ever seen.

"What's this, Grimmjow? Late again?" the man greeted in a singsong tone, "I'm starting to think you don't like it here anymore…"

"Is Lord Aizen free, Ichimaru?" Ulquiorra spoke, keeping Grimmjow from a biting reply to the obvious taunt. The man noticed Ulquiorra's deflection, almost pouting at the lost chance for an upset.

"Mmmm… I guess so. You can see for yourself in the throne room," Ichimaru directed, sliding his hands into his voluminous sleeves and moving out of their way; strolling down the path in the opposite direction.

She briefly pondered why his eyes were closed, before Grimmjow barked at her to keep moving.

She had decided to spare the slim fellow no more attention when he greeted her.

"Hello, newcomer," the fair-haired man said as he brushed past her, his scent strong with Danger! and an incongruously sweet perfume. Surprised, she looked back at him as Grimmjow snagged her once again and pulled her into the palace.

He gave her a friendly wave, slitted eyes winking open to reveal a flash of icy irises.

"Welcome to Las Noches."

O

OOO

O

A/N:

I'm grovelling; I truly am. To you all, I apologize. This shouldn't have taken forever to put down, but my block was made of diamond for several months. I've got dynamite now, I hope. It always seems to require just one good day to get it done.

I couldn't start the year without putting this forward, and I hope I haven't lost anyone out there…

As to the chapter itself, ugh- environmental exposition. So tiring, but I can't plug you all into my mind's eye, so it's necessary.

BTW, my idea for this Las Noches is its canon look, as well as Byzantine architecture and Arabian decoration. I might not use all the proper terms, like calling the towers 'minarets', but you get my point.

Please feed me reviews. \(;A;)/