First off, I'm very very very very sorry about the...umm...6 or 7 month wait for this. I kept thinking I'd write it, and then things would come up and...well...you get it. If you want a formal apology or some intense grovelling for forgiveness, message me and I'll be happy to oblige.

But this chapter is good. And long. I'm bringing it now.

I'm also apparently on the hunt for a new beta! Anyone who wants to beta, talk to me about it, leave a comment, message me, send a telegraph, give a letter to a previously unladen swallow (and measure its airspeed velocity), whatever method of communication you prefer.

Monty Python reference, for those who are hopelessly lost.

For all those people who reviewed so so long ago: you get my undying gratitude and whatever I promised in the last chapter. T-shirts and caffeine candy. :P

That's: talkstoangels77, Xylexia, Adree and Alfredo, MonkeyDLuffy7GR, Tozase-Murcielago, HinaTea, readingQueen, Foxgrl18, akumaxkami, Sylvertongue, Somerlia, Sarii123, CandyDrops, and YukiHimeChaan. :D

And I love all the countless people who alerted/subscribed/favorited and did all that fun stuff! You guys are my motivation, and I feel so terrible for waiting this long. I'll be more diligent from now on.

Someone just read the disclaimer.

Everyone:...

Me-...Fine. I don't own, so don't sue.

Tradition

She scouted ahead and slipped into the shadows near the crumbling apartment building, her finely tuned senses quickly locating the specimens. There was only one reiatsu present on the bottom floor; all the other floors were empty, except the top one, where it appeared that the tenants had gathered. The other specimen couldn't be located. It was possible that it was on the top floor, but the chances were slim that its reiatsu could be hidden by the others. They would have to search elsewhere; the master would not be pleased if they came back with only one specimen. It could potentially reveal the entire operation if the other one noticed its companion had mysteriously disappeared. However, the master was sure to be happier with one specimen than none, and if the other one came after his companion, they would have even less trouble capturing him. But for now, they would have to take what they could get. She silently signaled her men.

Masking their presence with practiced ease, they surrounded the old building. The sounds of their footsteps swallowed up in the chaotic noises of drinking and fighting that emanated from the apartments, the usual nightly din. Three of them entered.

Moments later, four returned.

As silently as they had come, they left, leaving only the smallest signs of their presence; a few drops of blood on the carpet and a badly cracked table were hardly uncommon in this part of town.

The door slammed shut behind them.

On the top floor of the building, Grimmjow Jagerjacques, former 6th Espada, paused, sake bottle hovering inches away from his mouth as he looked out the window. He could've sworn he'd seen a shift in the dark. More importantly, he was almost out of sake; Nnoitra sure was taking his sweet time getting more. However, his attention was quickly grabbed by the massive brawl starting in the middle of the room. Feeling his jaw settle into a familiar feral grin, he jumped into the fray, letting any emotion, thought, and worry dissolve in the sweet rush of battle.

*0*0*

Oh, yes, he recognized this small grocery store. He had visited it countless times in the days after his arrival in the World of the Living. Of course, he hadn't been allowed to stay in the scientist's house for free. The damned shinigami had done his best to make the stay beyond miserable for the green-eyed former hollow. Refusing to be caught up in it directly, the blonde man had turned Ulquiorra over to his two vicious wards. The dark-haired girl wasn't too bad; she was quiet and usually minded her own business. She had the annoying habit of casually calling him "Moocher 2" at every occasion, and he had been unable to find out who the first Moocher had been, but other than that, she was entirely tolerable. No, it was the red-head who was the worst. He made up for his diminutive size in sheer annoyance, violent tendencies, and loud cursing. He had personally introduced the unfortunate Whole to a wide variety of tortures, running errands and cleaning all day being the most bearable. The worst…the former Espada was almost afraid to even think about it again. There were certain places on the body that a giant metal baseball bat should never slam into.

He suppressed a shudder, forcibly turning his thoughts to less painful subjects. The store was mostly empty, quiet enough that one could hear the upbeat music wafting out of the overhead speakers. A bored adolescent slumped against a checkout counter, loudly chewing the strange substance called gum. Ulquiorra had yet to try any, although Urahara's devil child enjoyed it immensely. That thought alone was almost enough to turn his interest away from the sweet completely.

The onna's bright laughter instantly caught his attention; she was fascinated by something in the fresh produce section. He didn't understand how she could find so much joy in such a mundane task. It seemed to him that she could find something in everything. Even…even in someone like him, she had managed to find something worth looking for.

He hovered a few feet behind her as they walked. The colorful displays and flashy advertisements were lost on him as he became lost in his thoughts, his jade eyes distant. What had she seen in him? Was there truly anything to find? He couldn't agree with her assessment of his character; she had always treated him like he was harmless, as pure and unstained as any of her human friends. Despite everything he had done and everything he had said, trying to force her to believe otherwise, she had always accepted him. She had always acted as if she couldn't or wouldn't see the darkness and sin that had stained him until his soul, whatever was left of his foolish human heart, was so dark and empty that it was nothing more than a shadow.

She had reached out to her enemy as he died, a last act of pity, even after his multiple attempts to murder her loved one. Pity had always seemed to be a weakness to him, a worthless emotion. But he knew she was far from weak or worthless, even though sometimes she acted as if she were; she was stronger than anyone he knew or knew of. He had heard the story from the blonde scientist about how she defeated Aizen, rejecting him until there was nothing left. If Aizen had truly stood on the level of a god, than she was nothing short of a goddess, infinitely strong in every way, even though she refused to ever show or use the majority of her power. What could such a perfect being see him as? Not a monster; She had stated several times that he didn't scare her, that she wasn't afraid of him and never had been. A sentiment that still eluded him. Despite this, he knew she didn't see him as an ally, one of her trusted nakama; he realized, with a startling sinking feeling in his chest, that she would most likely never consider him as such. And yet…she didn't treat him like trash, like he had treated all humans before. There was a certain level of understanding between them, a level that he was, as of yet, unable to completely fathom. Even with his rather limited knowledge of her character, he knew there was nothing else she would ever consider him to be. Not an ally, not an enemy, not a friend, and not a monster, either. She was an enigma, one of the few puzzles that he couldn't solve. The bad part about it was that he couldn't see where to begin. The worst part: he was afraid to even open his eyes and look.

She stopped moving; fate had, of course, chosen the moment when he was paying the least attention to his surroundings. Being slightly off-balance already for…obvious reasons, it didn't take much to knock Orihime off her feet. The slight jolt as her taller companion bumped into her was just enough. She fell forward, her sharp cry startling the green-eyed man out of his thoughts. His eyes quickly refocused, taking in the situation with practiced swiftness, time seeming to slow down. He instantly realized that he wouldn't be able to do much of anything with his worthless human reflexes; however, this didn't stop him from trying. He just barely managed to catch her by the waist; unfortunately for him, he just wasn't quick enough to get a good grip, and the laws of physics took it from there. The immaculately graceful Ulquiorra Schiffer was pulled to the ground behind the orange-haired woman, landing next to her in a rather undignified heap and whacking his head on the sharp corner of the metal shelf behind him in the process.

Embarrassingly enough, the woman recovered before he did and quickly scrambled to her feet, her large gray eyes trembling worriedly, words pouring out in an unintelligible jumble. "Ohmygosh,areyouokay?I'msuchaclutz,Iknow,butIdidn'tthink-"

He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain and the onna's normally pleasant voice, turned shrill with anxiety. His head was throbbing…damned human frailties. He slowly opened his eyes, only to be assaulted by the glaring fluorescent lights. "Onna-"

"Areyoubleeding?That'sblood,isn'tit!Ohno,-"

It was indeed blood; he lifted his fingers away from the wound and saw that they were a coated in glistening ruby; a color he had once been more partial to than many others. Now he just felt sickened by it, by the color and the scent and the slick oily feel as it dried quickly and he rubbed it between his fingers. His ears were ringing with Orihime's high-pitched rambling. He braced himself against the metal shelves and leaned on them heavily, pulling himself to a standing position. "Onna-"

"Areyoudizzy?Maybeyoushouldsitdown,or-"

"Be quiet." Her voice faltered and fell away to nothing, her lips slightly parted as whatever she was about to say was choked off. Some old habits died hard. At least she was quiet, finally. He had learned already that once she started talking, it was nearly impossible to get her to stop. "Are you injured?"

Her eyebrows furrowed a little. "You're hurt worse than I am, we need to-"

"You're injured, onna?" His eyes darted across her body, searching for any obvious signs of damage. He felt blood trickling down his neck from the cut across his skull, hot and then cold as the air came in contact with the crimson liquid. Brightly colored lines danced across his vision; never a good thing. They usually came with the human ailment called a migraine; an ailment which had unfortunately decided to take up frequent residence in his head ever since he regained his memories.

Her expression grew more worried. "It doesn't matter, we need to put a bandage on that cut before-"

This was getting tiresome. He could see it now, how she put slightly more weight on her right foot. She must have twisted the other ankle when she fell; if it had been dislocated or broken, she would be in more pain than him. "You've injured your foot," he stated practically."Certainly that takes priority over-"

"Stop," she said, her voice carrying a dangerous edge of pure frustration, panicked anxiety, and stubbornness. Small tears were shining in the corners of her eyes. "I appreciate you worrying about me, but you don't have to treat me like I'm fragile, like I'm going to break at the slightest jolt." Ulquiorra was slightly awed; had she really interrupted him? "I've lived without your help for 18 years. I know how to take care of myself and I don't need you ordering me around like you know what's best for me. This isn't the world you used to live in. I thought you'd figured that out by now. I'm not the same as I was…" She sighed heavily; if she'd had less control, it might've come out as a sob. Her voice trembled when she spoke, and even her practiced facade couldn't cover up all of her distress at unearthing the old pain. "S-so stop being so stubborn, sometimes you have to ignore your pride and your nature, and just let someone else take care of you for once. You're going to pass out if you keep bleeding like that, and believe it or not, I don't like seeing the people I care about in pain." She cared…? About him? How strange. The woman never ceased to amaze him. "I promise that once we get your head cleaned up, I'll do something about my foot, so just stop being such a…such an idiot."

Silence. Orihime sniffled quietly.

The teenager at the checkout counter looked at the pale man curiously. His gaze became anxious as he saw the fresh bloodstain drying on the customer's t-shirt. "Um…sir…are you okay? 'Cuz I can call the hospital if I need to…"

Ulquiorra gave the idiotic adolescent the coldest glare he could muster. The clerk gulped and bowed slightly. "U-uh, it's fine if you don't like that idea, I'll just be…um…tell me if there's anything you need…" The unfortunate boy backed away and took shelter from the intimidating stranger behind the checkout counter.

Orihime bent over and picked up the grocery list and basket that she had dropped somewhere along the way; they'd just have to scrape something together from what she had at home. Luckily, Orihime Inoue could make something out of anything. Feeling somewhat empowered by the thought, she limped out of the grocery store, head held high, the new injury to her foot and the scars on her heart pushed to the back of her mind.

*0*0*

He sat in a relaxed lotus position, his sleepy gray eyes staring out from under heavy lids, catching the motion of every speck of dust dancing in the evening sunbeams, every curl of smoke released by the smoldering incense. The scent was amazingly relaxing; his eyes slid shut lazily. Sleep…the only refuge he had left, the only safe haven away from the emptiness of the world that surrounded him. Despite being in Soul Society, surrounded by millions of other souls, he felt alone. He was relatively far away from his nearest neighbors; there used to be a family just down the road, but they moved away quickly after he arrived. Dreams were the only place where he could be with her again, be whole again. He felt his whole being relax at the thought, already anticipating the solid warmth in his chest.

Deep sleep swallowed him quickly.

He dreamed that he was back in the cold white palace, surrounded by that familiar emptiness. But he was complete and powerful and together. Every day he was violently awoken by Lilinette and stared across the long white table at Halibel and sighed at Yammy's booming voice. Sure it was a hell to many, but the fact that others inhabited it was enough to make it his heaven. A place where he was able to coexist with other beings, despite the crushing power that he could feel flowing through him even now; he even considered some of them allies. There were no friends in Hueco Mundo, and no trust, but there were those who were less likely to stab you in the back, and they were your allies.

He dreamed of the time when the world stood still, stuck in eternal night; a time when everyone he knew, all those people that had filled him up, were frozen together in their collective drop of silvery amber.

For better or for worse.

*0*0*

They had no explanation for what was happening.

They had been gathered around the house, enveloped in the almost-suffocating darkness of the small hours of the morning; the moon and stars were obscured by heavy, wet clouds and the wind was picking up, bringing with it the promise of rain. Their reiatsu was hidden, and their dark clothing sheltered them from sight. The mission was set to begin, and the next specimen was trapped inside, cornered like the prey he was. Seconds later, they were all on their knees, suffocating on the sheer force of the reiatsu emanating from the being within the building.

One of them stood strong through the barrage. She narrowed her eyes at her…coworkers. They were pathetic. They had just barely managed to capture the first specimen, and now they were proving themselves even more worthless than before. She would have to complete the mission on her own; none of them could afford to risk the master's wrath, although she certainly had the best chance of surviving. She disappeared into the house.

The reiatsu burst was stifled, and then dropped off completely. Moments later, the hunters had disappeared, taking their quarry with them into the darkness.

The clouds burst open, their load of water hissing as it bounced off the earth and gradually soaked in, washing away any sign of the visitors' presence.

*0*0*

Surprisingly, his head had stopped hurting. The onna had stitched the wound up and cleaned it with an antiseptic wipe, chattering happily about the time she'd volunteered at Kurosaki's clinic. Of course, after she'd lost her powers, she had to revive her old skill with a first aid kit. She'd then given him two small tablets, a substance she called "Advil". He'd swallowed them with a sip of the drink she'd handed him, wrinkling his nose as the liquid sugar fizzed on his tongue, and wondering at how quickly she had recovered from the earlier episode. She had wrapped her ankle, and seemed to be walking with only a slight limp; there wouldn't be any permanent damage. Even her mood had settled: she no longer seemed disturbed or upset in the least. If she was still distressed, she was exceptionally good at hiding it.

Shortly thereafter, she had gotten him to chop onions. It was getting late, and she wanted to have whatever it was she was cooking finished as quickly as possible. The fumes burned his nose and, embarrassingly enough, made his eyes water slightly. He'd heard about this peculiar plant from Yammy; surprisingly, the idiot had gotten something about the human world right.

He waited until the onna was completely engrossed in her project before quickly wiping his eyes. His nose was running too, but there wasn't much he could do about it, not without attracting the onna's attention or inhaling more of the evil fumes. He chopped the vegetable as quickly as humanly possible, a sudden burst of energy (he assumed it was from the drink he'd had earlier) speeding the process considerably. He silently cursed the entire onion species to the dankest pits of Hueco Mundo he had ever had the misfortune to crawl into as he handed the cutting board to the onna, who gushed her thanks.

"Wow, Ulquiorra, you did that way faster than I could've!" He peeked over at the strange mixture bubbling in the large saucepot.

"Onna. What is that?"

"It's ramen with ketchup, spinach, peanut butter, sour cream, chopped onion, jumbo marshmallows and whipped cream mixed in!"

"…"

"It smells so good~!"

She beamed at him, reveling in the "delicious" smell wafting from the saucepot. The substance she poured into his bowl looked vaguely like something Yammy's dog had decided to deposit on the floor in the Cuarto's room in Hueco Mundo. He wasn't sure to this day how the dog had gotten in; the nasty beast had proceeded to sniff the mess, lick at it a bit, and trot off. After hunting the Decimo down, Ulquiorra made Yammy clean the rest up with his Espada jacket. Water was precious in Hueco Mundo, so laundry was done once a week as needed and Yammy only had the one jacket. Furthermore, Aizen required his Espada to show up to meetings in their uniforms. Yammy had an…interesting week.

Despite knowing next to nothing about human food, Ulquiorra was reasonably sure it was not supposed to resemble dog vomit.

Oh well. The onna certainly seemed proud of it, whatever it was. She set two bowls on the low table in the living room and sat down, eating with gusto. The former Espada sat down across from her, crossing his legs gracefully and studying the contents of the bowl that sat steaming on the table. His stomach growled angrily, reminding him of how hungry he was. The energy from the sweet drink he had had earlier was wearing off quickly, and the mixture in his soup bowl was looking more and more appetizing by the second. Cautiously, he took a sip of the thick broth. Suppressing his gag reflex, he just barely managed to swallow the concoction; it sat heavily in his stomach, which gurgled worryingly, obviously not happy with what it was being fed. He set the bowl down, composing himself.

"Onna."

"Hm?"

"This food is inedible."

"…" She cocked her head curiously, taking another bite of her own helping. She seemed to swish it around on her tongue, her expression thoughtful. Finally she swallowed, licking her lips pensively. "Hm…You know, now that I think about it, I didn't put in as much ketchup as I usually do, but it was all I had left. I meant to get some at the grocery store, but…" She trailed off and shrugged before returning to her meal. Ulquiorra slumped a little on his cushion. She had completely missed the point.

His exasperation quickly disappeared to be replaced with a nagging feeling that he could be wrong. The green-eyed man was beginning to second guess himself. The meals that had been prepared for the onna in Las Noches certainly hadn't looked anything like what she was enjoying now; then again, he hadn't prepared those meals. He knew they were supposed to provide her with the required nutrition to sustain her but, having no reason to, he had never tasted them. For all he knew, the meals she had been served could have tasted like what the onna was eating now. Perhaps it was simply the way human food was. Taste wasn't exactly a new sensation to him, but it was certainly different now that he was…whatever he was. The sense was more physical, and the food had weight and substance and color, unlike his…earlier diet. It was very possible that he was simply more used to the taste of raw reiatsu, the delicate flavors of each unique soul and the way that the "food" had temporarily soothed the burning void inside him. Maybe it was just a matter of…adjusting to the new sustenance his body required.

However, the fact remained that he really had no idea how to use the strange utensils called "chopsticks"; they sat on the table, their glossy surfaces seeming to mock his ignorance. He had been watching his former captive scooping the noodles into her mouth for several minutes now, seemingly unaware of his stare. However, when he held the eating implements experimentally, mimicking her grip, he found that they fit awkwardly into his hand, and he had very little control over them. He could still feel the hunger gnawing at his stomach and, while it was not as excruciating as what he had felt as a hollow, it certainly wasn't comfortable.

He scowled at the steaming broth and the various bits of food floating in it. Well, there was absolutely no way he was going to admit to being unable to do something that was so obviously elementary in this world. No, unable wasn't the right word, he was just…less skilled with the strange tools the humans used. And to gain skill, one must practice.

Casting one last determined glance at the onna, he readjusted the chopsticks in his hand and opened and closed them under the table, getting used to the feel of them. Finally, feeling confidence rising in his chest, he dipped the chopsticks into the broth and closed them around a clump of noodles. Slowly, he lifted the chopsticks up, trying desperately to keep them clamped around their slippery load. His eyes were locked on the food, his free hand clenched tightly into a fist, all his energy focused on getting the food to his mouth. He leaned forward slightly, the chopsticks hovering mere inches away. A little bit of broth dripped down the noodles, leaving droplets on the table; just as he managed to touch the chopsticks to his lips, half of the noodles decided to slip free from his grip, plopping limply into his lap. He cursed under his breath as his eyes darted to Orihime, only to notice that she had left her seat while he wasn't paying attention, taking her bowl with her. He assumed that she had gone back to the kitchen for seconds.

He quickly shoved the remainder of the noodles in his mouth, rolling the taste around on his tongue. They weren't as revolting as the broth had been and, in fact, he was able to swallow them without gagging. He focused his attention back on the broth-soaked noodles currently staining his dark jeans. He took the cloth napkin off the table and placed it in his lap, discreetly placing the soiled food in it. He could throw deal with that later. Right now, he was still hungry.

He scooted closer to the table, picking up another clump of noodles and maneuvering the chopsticks more carefully. He had noticed that the onna was sitting rather close to her bowl; perhaps this was the reason why. The slick food slipped easily from between the utensils, splashing back into the broth. He leaned closer, his chopsticks closing around the noodles again. Slowly, deliberately, the food moved closer to his mouth. He was so close…

"BOHAHAHAHAAAA! THE SPIRITS ARE ALWAYS WITH YOU!"

The sudden noise completely shattered his concentration. He watched in horror as the sustenance he had worked so hard to obtain slipped back into the bowl with a wet plop, splashing the broth right into his eye. His free hand coming up to nurse the stinging orb, he turned around to give the giggling woman his coldest glare…and she wasn't there.

Slightly bewildered, he turned and saw her sitting exactly where she was before, her bowl refilled and steaming, her lunar eyes shimmering with devilish amusement. Her face broke out in a less-than-innocent smirk. "Ne, what's wrong Ulquiorra? You look like you've seen a ghost."

He refused to comment, somehow finding the strength of will to continue his attempts at using the chopsticks. This only seemed to amuse her more; she giggled as she watched him. Despite the fact that she was most certainly laughing at him and not with him, it wasn't malicious or really even irritating. Her laugh rang in a way that was pleasant, no matter what she found amusing. He felt his mouth quirk up a bit, feeling the onna's mirth seeping into him and slowly raising his spirits.

As he gained confidence with the new utensils, he began to eat faster and was soon finished. He forced his stomach to remain calm as he swallowed the remainder of the broth. By the time he stood and placed his bowl in the sink, the onna had had three helpings. Now she stood in the kitchen, her sleeves rolled up as she rinsed the various pots, pans, knives, and other cookware that had accumulated while they had cooked. Wordlessly, he picked up a dish rag and began to dry the clean dishes, setting them to the side until they could be stowed back in their various cabinets.

They stood comfortably close to each other and worked with a wordless harmony that seemed to stem from nowhere in particular. The silence between them was broken only by the sound of the scalding water rushing into the sink. The subtle rhythm of the chore was natural and relaxing and, as they stood together in the kitchen, neither of them thought to question it.

*0*0*

"Master…"

Her quiet address received no answer.

"Master."

He was completely engrossed in his work, as usual. The multiple computer monitors cast a bluish-white glow across the otherwise pitch-dark lab. Only the sound of long pale fingers glancing across the keyboard broke the silence. And yet he still didn't respond. She knew he would want to hear about this development, and yet she was reluctant to distract him from his current project. Logically, her announcement was of greater importance than anything else he might be involved in. Therefore he would be mad if she told him later, and mad if she told him now and interrupted his work. She had nothing to lose.

She rested a hand on his shoulder, cold eyes resting on him with a hard intensity. "Master. There has been a new development with-"

"Worthless rat! I told you yesterday that you were not to disturb me! I thought I designed you to remember orders better than you do. Honestly, anyone with a brain would conclude that you have the mental capacity of a housefly."

"I am aware of your orders, however-"

"However nothing! This project is of the utmost importance!"

"You told me specifically that the new study took priority over all else. I have kept the video memory if you wish to see it."

He stood and turned on her, golden eyes flashing with rage and a good deal of pure insanity. "I won't stand for this stuck-up attitude! Assuming that I forgot my own orders, the arrogance!" He backhanded her hard enough to send her flying across the room.

She lay where she had fallen, not meeting his eyes. She knew from experience that nothing she could say would save her from the beating she was about to receive.

He hovered over her, large, ominous, and powerful. "Your opinions don't matter! If I say tell me later, then tell me later! Continue to follow your orders and do not bother me until I come to personally survey the progress of the project!" He accented every other word with a sharp kick to the ribs. Blood leaked from the corner of the subordinate's lips, but she made no sound, bearing the abuse silently as she always had and always would. "You are absolutely worthless! I don't know why I even bothered to create you in the first place."

He kept kicking until he finally felt the alloyed structure crack under his blows. Having worked off his rage at being interrupted, he left her alone on the hard floor as he returned to his work, cursing the untimely interruption. He didn't worry about her; he had designed her with the most advanced technology. He knew that soon enough, her metallic bones would begin to knit themselves back together, and she would be ready to take her beatings again.

*0*0*

Ice cream and a movie; it was Orihime's Friday night tradition. Usually she would call Tatsuki, and the friends would sit in the dark, watching classic comedies or exciting action films. When they were younger, they'd watch a lot of Twilight-style teenage romance flicks, but something had changed in Orihime along the way, and she couldn't stand those movies anymore.

When she had timidly tried to explain this ritual to Ulquiorra, he had simply nodded his approval; she assumed he was either too bored to complain or didn't really understand what she was talking about. Maybe a little of both.

So now they sat on Orihime's small couch in her small living room, watching her small TV with all the lights turned off. The darkness only made her more aware of Ulquiorra's presence, so close but not quite touching due to a lot of effort on Orihime's part. She had squashed herself as close the arm of the sofa as possible in order to keep their hips from touching. It was incredibly uncomfortable; she fretted constantly about her position, and glanced over at her silent companion every few seconds. He sat as quietly as ever, seemingly absorbing the movie, a copy of Indiana Jones that had been dubbed over into Japanese. Totally unaffected. Of course he was. She tried her best to turn her attention to the movie as well.

After about 20 minutes, she was so caught up in the movie that she could almost forget that the green-eyed man was even there. She very nearly forgot where she was. She could make herself believe that she was in the jungles of South America stealing a golden idol, or in the deserts of Egypt trying to keep the Nazis from stealing the Ark of the Covenant. She imagined that she could feel the sun on her cheeks and the wind in her hair, the adrenaline still rushing through her blood from the latest scrape with mortal danger. She could lose herself in the worlds these movies presented and for a while, forget the pressures of everyday life.

Her posture relaxed as she watched until her hip and thigh were pressed snugly against Ulquiorra's. Yet it was her turn not to notice; even though she had seen the movie at least thirty times, she still leaned forward, eyes wide and muscles tense, waiting for the next surprise. The former Espada, however, instantly stiffened at the contact. As close as they were sitting, he could almost feel the warmth that surrounded her, a soft warmth that was at once novel and intoxicating and absolutely irresistible. It would take next to no effort to close the gap between them, a scant 6 or 7 inches, and so easy to simply-

Here he cut himself off, his well-trained mind interfering before his base impulses could lead him any farther astray. He was the woman's protector, here to continue the mission that had refused to end, even after he had died. If that meant taking on all of Soul Society armed with nothing more than his average human strength or fighting back an army of hungry Menos, he would do just that. And if it meant protecting the woman from himself, he would do whatever he had to to ensure her safety.

Time dragged on, and the digital display on the DVD player soon read 00:30 AM. The movie had finally come to its gruesome but happy end. Orihime yawned and stretched, pulling the slight stiffness out of her muscles. Suddenly she squeaked a bit, startled as she felt something shifting beside her; she had almost completely forgotten that Ulquiorra was next to her. He had somehow fallen asleep sitting up; with his eyebrows slightly furrowed and his mouth set tightly, his expression was thoughtful and almost conflicted. She stood slowly, not only because her legs were stiff, but also because she didn't want to disturb him any further. Feeling the loss of her presence, he stretched out on the sofa but didn't wake.

With the movie turned off, the house was silent and dark. She felt her heart skip a beat as she heard a harsh, loud buzzing sound followed by a faint light shining from her room. She stood frozen, listening for any sign that the disturbance may have woken her green-eyed companion. After a few moments of silence, she allowed herself to breathe again and walked into her room. The painfully bright screen of her cell phone greeted her:

1 NEW MESSAGE
FROM:
TATSUKI-CHAN

*0*0*

His eyelids parted slowly, heavily. Stormy eyes were greeted with a darkness that left their owner unsure that he had even opened them. As he blinked, he began to make out shapes on the ceiling, throwing slight shadows. He turned his head with some difficulty, feeling as if it were a block of lead. Around him were other shapes, glowing palely in the blackness. He tried wiggling his fingers and toes and they responded sluggishly, as if they had been asleep and were being reluctantly awoken. He lifted his hand a few inches off the surface he was stretched on, and could feel it trembling from the effort. Something caught on his wrist, but his skin was almost comfortably numb and he couldn't tell what it was.

He closed his eyes again and mentally checked over every part of his body. There was a slight pressure on both wrists and ankles, and something caught on his lower ribs as he breathed. There was something on the inside of his elbow. But nothing hurt. In fact, everything was…neutral. Almost disturbingly so. Maybe I'm drugged…

His brain churned the thought out at its own lethargic pace. But even thinking this he wasn't alarmed. He couldn't be. He was so comfortable…And it was nice and dark in the room. He could easily just go back to sleep and forget this odd dream.

But the tiny corner of his mind that was thinking logically felt otherwise. There was something off about this, and he knew it. He should be more worried about this. Where was he? Why was he so comfortable? The surface he was lying on was rather hard, not meant for sleeping and certainly not made for comfort. And why wasn't any of this worrying him? What was that little pinch in the crook of his elbow? He tried to move his arms. He felt the muscles clench but nothing moved. Finally, he felt that little tug on his wrists. His arms were trying to move, but something was keeping them down. His mind was shaking off its delirium; he could see more clearly now. There were human shapes on both sides of him, lying on tables and covered in sheets. The closest was barely three feet away, just enough space for a person to walk between the tables. Something glinted near his elbow; a needle, and plastic tubing connected to a bag that hung from a high, glinting pole. He had been drugged. He was on a drip. It was safe to assume that his wrists and ankles were restrained.

Although his mind had shaken off the drug, his body was still heavy and unresponsive. He could feel a long-restrained power bubbling up in response to his racing thoughts, but it couldn't reach his limbs. The space around him began to glow as the reishi-thick air was stirred, carrying the echo of his power throughout the room. He tried to push it back, but his core was boiling over with the spiritual power; everything else remained numb, dead to any sort of feeling. The halo around him now illuminated the whole room, and he could hear the distant echoes of alarms going off.

A door slid open with a pneumatic hiss and the room was suddenly blindingly bright. He felt tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as he shut them tightly. He heard panicked shouts, but they were too jumbled for him to make any sense of them. Blinking cautiously in the glaring, artificial light that now flooded the room, he could make out the face of the figure lying closest to him. His breath caught as his eyes trailed over the childish, battered face and the dark stains on the sheet that concealed the figure's body from him.

Shocked, he relaxed, and the drug began to take hold again. Something pricked his arm, but he barely felt it. Anguish and something akin to panic was welling up inside him. He needed to get free, now. If he could just move his arms…

He could feel the new sedative trying to pull him under, but he fought it. He needed to see. His arms strained against the bonds, even as more and more faceless people tried to hold him down. A quick burst of reiatsu flared off of his body, and they collapsed with a coordinated silence, like puppets whose strings have been suddenly cut. He began to feel pain from his limbs, distant and dulled but definitely there. The restraints refused to give way.

His reiatsu was moving the air. The sheets around him were billowing against the figures they concealed. If he could just lift it enough… He searched for more power, struggling to draw it out despite the sedative. The sheet covering his own body flew away, and he felt cold, realizing for the first time that he was naked.

The edge of the accompanying sheet flipped up, baring the small female shape that lay beneath it. He saw oddly-colored bruises and scars and trails of dried blood. Her body had been cut open in the "T" shape typical of autopsies. Dark stitches stood up against the skin where the incision had been stitched back together. Drained and exhausted, he collapsed back onto the table, feeling the drug pull him into oblivion. A voice swam briefly into his hearing before he completely lost consciousness:

"We underestimated…raise the dosage of…and get rid of the other one. We're done with it."

I only had a beta for half of this. Forgive any typos, glaring grammatical errors, or other things like that.

And so the plot is set in motion. Finally. Hope you liked it!

~Erisu Koumei