A/N: Here it is guys… the final chapter. Almost three times as long as all the others as a way of going out with a bag… I just wanted to thank everyone for seeing this through to the end, you've all made me very happy with your reviews, and I hope you've enjoyed it thoroughly.

The Color of Oblivion (The Notes of a Shamisen)

"I hear it,"

Tatsuki bit her knuckles to keep from screaming, eyes going wide with shock as she recognized the deep, flat voice. She didn't understand, how could he be-?

"I hear it," he repeated tonelessly, roughly, "Take care of her for me."

Tatsuki whipped around, if only to confirm that it was him, and that she wasn't insane; she felt a light breeze against her cheek as she turned, and by the time she was facing the other way, he was far back in the trees, staring at her from between the white trunks and almost disappearing in the shadows. Gold pinpricks marked where his gaze had settled on her, the unnatural stare making the short cropped hair at the back of her neck stand on end.

Ulquiorra.

He had lost much of his human semblance, gaining horns, wings, a tail and what seemed to be the lower half of a bat or bird of prey; in his right hand he held a fine katana with a dark hilt. His pale torso was painted black with gore, and his ochre eyes glared at her with a message, his words barely reached her on the wind.

"Take care of her," his voice blended with the clattering of dead and blackened branches, "Please."

Tatsuki blinked, and he was gone, a single wing beat mixing with the breeze to mark his exit.

Behind her, Orihime wept silently.

…..

Ichigo swiped a rag across his hands, absentmindedly clearing them of the built up ash from the forge, thinking of what he had heard from Rukia. It was going to cause problems, what Chizuru did, for a lot of people.

For one thing, corpses were everywhere. There were only nine dead, not a high toll considering what could had happened to that group that had consisted of almost fifty, but the bodies were messy. Kobayashi had a hole the size of a sapling trunk in his chest, for one. Ren had a broken neck, three others were burned beyond recognition. The remaining four had been killed in the strange green blast, having been thrown forward at the impact, showered with spires of stone and shattered trees in the shrapnel… he could almost hear that massive explosion echoing in his ears again, as he had heard it from his home. Everyone had heard, had seen, had felt that massive blast that had destroyed a section of the forest.

Even as he thought this there was a clatter near the doorway; turning his head to look, he saw Orihime raging toward him, the sunlight catching her hair and tuning it bright as fire, and her tears to diamond. Ichigo gazed in shock at the water pouring from her ruined eyes, so surprised by her sudden appearance that he almost didn't take in the meaning of her shouting.

"Orihime-" Ichigo started, but she was not to be distracted. She reached out and caught hold of the front of his kosode, dragging on the collar.

"What happened?" she sobbed, "Why is everything burned like that? There are dead people-"

"I don't know," Ichigo said too quickly, hoping to divert the inevitable emotional storm. Orihime glared at him furiously from her milky eyes, and lashed out with a blind, openhanded strike that landed on his cheek with a loud slap. Ichigo saw Tatsuki slide into the open door, almost losing her footing in her haste.

"Don't lie," the red headed girl whispered brokenly, "Rukia tells you everything. You know. What happened?"

"Uh…." Ichigo stood stock still, one hand to his reddening cheek, brown eyes flicking up to Tatsuki's face for a moment before he mouthed, 'What do I do?'

"Tell her, Ichigo," Tatsuki said despairingly, "Don't hide anything either. Just lay it all out there for her, like it is. It'll be for the best if the truth comes to light."

"Alright," the young man sighed, "Alright, alright. Here's what I know. A… a mob I guess, I don't know what else it would be, went into the woods late last night and burned down the demon's home in an attempt to smoke him out… it went really wrong though, I mean really wrong. There's…" Ichigo paused, watching Orihime's face, "There are nine dead, two more who are likely to die from injury, and some twenty-odd more with mild damages."

"And... him?"

"Dead," he said tiredly, "They got him in the end, at the cost of more than a few lives. Oh," Ichigo added as an afterthought; Tatsuki had said to lay it all out there, so that's what he would do, "The mob was lead by Chizuru."

Orihime fell to her knees, suddenly weak. Her face went blank, and she became silent, sagging forward with the weight of knowledge. All thought left her, only a deep, primal throb filling her; she supposed she had already known he was dead. If he was alive, he would have come for her. He would have heard her in that clearing. And it wasn't like she could go look for the body… he wouldn't even get a proper burial. The crows in the forest would pull him apart…

For an instant she saw a crow burying its beak in a dark mass and pulling up with a green snakes' eye dangling…

This imagery filled her mind, a picture floating on a sea of despair.

….

Late that night, long after she had ensured that Orihime had cried herself sleep, Tatsuki crept to the forge and found her red headed friend standing outside, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest.

"What did you want to tell me?" Ichigo asked Tatsuki as soon as she was within whispering range, "It had better be pretty damn important for me to lose sleep over it."

"Ulquiorra's not dead," Tatsuki hissed. Ichigo stared at her, eyebrows furrowing over his brown eyes, hidden in moonshadow.

"You're sure?" he asked, "Rukia said that she thought that the thing had to be dead, because-"

"I saw him. Earlier, when we were in the woods by the wreckage, he hid from Orihime and asked me to take care of her… He was injured, though not badly. There was one of Ishida's arrows in his shoulder. But what did she say?"

"Rukia said that Byakuya was telling everyone else he was dead," Ichigo murmured thoughtfully, "And she wouldn't lie to me… did Chizuru maybe lie to the council?"

"Or the council is lying to the village to keep order. If panic broke out, people would start leaving the village and business would plunge; a lot more people could die. I think we should wait and see what happens," Tatsuki whispered back, "We have to trust them… we can't do much else at this point."

"Does Orihime know he's alive? Why would he hide from her?"

"That's what I really wanted to talk about… I think he's trying to purposely distance himself from her… so I'm not going to tell her," Tatsuki said this with a steely glint of determination in her eyes, "I think that would be for the best."

How often she had used that phrase concerning Orihime. 'For the best'…. But according to whom?

"I suppose," Ichigo said, not arguing, mostly because arguing with Tatsuki was pointless, "but what do we do if he comes back?"

"I doubt he will," the dark haired girl muttered, "I'll talk to you later… and if you see Chizuru, make it so that we can talk. I have something I want to ask her."

Ichigo recognized the look in Tatsuki's eye. The only thing she would be 'asking' would be if Chizuru was still alive after having been beaten so badly by the marshal brunette.

"Alright," the red headed young man sighed, "Goodnight, Tatsuki."

"Good night, Ichigo."

….

Orihime heard the door to Tatsuki's home slide shut as her friend returned. She hadn't been asleep; how could she sleep, when she knew that Ulquiorra was…

The blind girl held her breath and covered her ears, lying on the ground in the fetal position, trying to stem the pain, remembering something Ulquiorra had said when she had gone to visit him one time of many.

"The weak cling to things and give out what they call their 'heart' freely. But what becomes of them when the thing they love most is torn away? What then, becomes of their heart?"

His voice echoed in her mind, and though she had her ears covered tightly, she fancied she could hear him speaking aloud. Was she weak? She was a strong woman, she supposed; many would have broken completely, lost their spirit after all she had gone through. Truthfully, her smile, her bubbly mask, was only half the truth. Deep down she was always crying, so lonely, lonely, lonely… but then there was Ulquiorra, who understood but did not pity her. Ulquiorra who saw beyond her mask. He saw beyond, witnessed her flaws, and he loved her all the same.

And she had loved him in return.

She had shared her heart with him, and he had left her behind. Everyone she truly loved had always gone on without her.

It hurt. Her chest hitched, and she really did wonder… what had become of her heart? The space where it should have been ached emptily inside of her, and then she decided: it was gone. Ulquiorra had gone away without her, and her heart had gone with him.

She would never love again.

…..

Chizuru swallowed, trembling on the doorstep of Tatsuki's home. She knew Orihime was there, just beyond the sliding door… she reached forward with shaking fingers, touching the wooden frame before allowing her hand to fall back to her side. She couldn't do it. She couldn't face Orihime.

She had done it to protect her! She had done the right thing, so why did it feel so wrong? The guilt was eating at her, she didn't even know why. Her breathing caught in her throat as a sob slipped through the walls; her princess was crying.

Chizuru pressed her fingers into the crevasse in the door and pushed it open, the light klatta-tmp of its passage falling on deaf ears, her guilt-stricken frame reflected in blind eyes, her gentle touch passing over unfeeling flesh; Orihime lay on her side, curled in a ball, senseless to Chizuru. The roan haired girl knelt for a long time, her fingers running through Orihime's hair, before she began to speak in a choking tone.

"I'm so sorry, Hime," she whispered, her voice and breath passing painfully by the lump in her throat. Tears spattered onto the rush mats and the colorful kimono that covered the girl as Chizuru swallowed, feeling less fear now and more guilt, remorse, pain.

"I just didn't know what to do," she wept over the girl with flaming locks, "I was so scared for you… I just wanted to keep you safe! I did this for you Hime! I did everything for you."

"Chizuru," this voice was low and hard, gritting against a hard surface of fury. The intruder started, looking up with her tear-damp gaze.

"Tatsuki," she cried, scrambling to her feet with backward momentum and nearly falling as she gained her balance, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it-"

"What are you doing here?" Tatsuki snapped, "You think apologizing is going to fix what you've done?"

"I only wanted to help, I didn't want her to get hurt-"

"You're a disgrace!" the brunette snarled, "Help? You've done nothing but cause her more pain! And not only her! What about Kobayashi's family? What of Ren's father? What about Ishida? They say he may never be able to write or draw a bow again! What about the rest of the people who are going to die because of what you've done? You don't just have a demon's blood on your hands, Chizuru. You have the blood of the villagemen, your kin, staining you!"

"No…" the girl gasped, "No, I don't, it wasn't my fault, he killed them, it was him!"

"He defended himself! Who lead the people to kill him, Chizuru? It's your fault they died."

"No, I didn't, I didn't!"

"If I see you touching Orihime with those filthy murderer's hands, I will strike you where you stand." Tatski said blackly, "For you are unchanged and unrepentant, and therefore undeserving of any forgiveness you may have received. Now get out and do not show your face to her again."

"Tatsuki, listen-" Chizuru pleaded, her face displaying display, horror, denial, so much pain… and hatred. She hated herself, but she hated that demon more. And in some small part of herself she hated Orhime for being so stupid as to fall for a demon and drive her to this.

"Get OUT!" The brunette roared, and Chizuru turned on heel, angry tears welling in her eyes, and fled back into the night, leaving Orihime where she lay.

"…heart…" the red head murmured, eyes glazed and ears covered.

Tatsuki took up Chizuru's place of vigil and began detangling the burnished copper strands of hair that fell across the rushes.

"Things will get better," she said to her friend aloud. He did the right thing, leaving her to remain among humans, she thought, but in the quietness of her heart, in the truest part of herself, she cursed Ulquiorra for running from his responsibilities to her friend.

Ulqiorra's heartbeat pounded in his ears, a lighter counter rhythm that backed the heavier tattoo of his wing strokes. It was early dawn now; he had been flying, with only a minimal amount of rest, for almost three days. With every beat of his wings, the arrow shaft buried in the soft flesh between the ball socket of his shoulder and the edge of his collar bone tore deeper with its iron barbs. His other wounds had all healed long ago; he prided himself in that particular ability. However, the arrow had lodged in his bones in such a way that he could not remove the shaft himself, and thus his body had no room to regenerate. The bleeding stopped for periods of time as blood vessels capped themselves, but it always began again at some point.

His own blood had painted his stark white torso black-red, he noted as his tail fluttered behind him the slipstream of his flight, a black pennant in the wind as the sanguine dried unevenly across his skin. The wound hurt him, but not nearly as much as the woman's cry.

Her tears had been acid, her scream a wicked pointed spear; her every breath had caused him unbearable agony, and had it not been for the discipline ingrained within every fiber of his being, he would have gone back to her.

Instead he flew on. He had to. If he went back to the village, he'd have to kill every one of them, or let himself die. He wondered when he had changed so much. At one point, the death of the trash would not have bothered him… but the thought of the woman looking at him with disgust, hatred, or outright horror in her blank gaze was unacceptable. It was better like this.

The swordsmith had been right.

He had hurt her.

"What's going on?" Tatsuki asked the man standing next to her as the sun rose at her back the next morning, finding her way blocked by a large, very angry crowd.

"The council has given the order for the arrest of Chizuru under murder charges," the man said fearfully, justified fury and a strangely servile anxiety clashing in his trembling tone, "Not that she doesn't deserve it, but she did get rid of the demon…"

"The question is," Tatsuki replied, "was it worth ridding the forest of a single demon in exchange for a dozen souls?"

"Precisely," the man rejoined, "although to have her executed seems…"

"Executed?" The brunette woman barked sharply.

"Well yes," the man, who she now recognized as the town's assistant physician, Hanatarou, answered, "I would know that the damages received by the injured were terrible…" he swallowed, and steel came into his tone, "the demon would have been better left unprovoked."

"I agree. When will the execution take place?" Tatsuki asked this, her heart thudding hard against her chest; she might have been furious with Chizuru, but they had been childhood friends… for her life to end in disgrace, like a common criminal…

"There will, of course, be a trial first. But I cannot see any other way for this to change her fate. Listen; the townspeople cry out for her blood. The bereaved want their retribution."

"Indeed," Tatsuki murmured quietly, "so they do."

How much bloodshed will there be before this ends? The martial girl thought in despair, How much longer until things can return to normal and we can return to peace?

How much longer until Orihime can smile without looking like she's actually in agony?

…..

-Approximately six months later-

Orihime kept her face angled down toward the cobbles that she was treading over, her shoulders heavy with sorrow that clung to her even now. Summer was beginning to rise to its peak, but the sun beating down on her seemed to throw out no heat. Her body was warm, yes, but she felt hollow. She had known the feeling would never really pass, but she had hoped that it would at least fade… she longed to feel his cold, long fingers in her hand again. She slowed her unsteady gait and closed her eyes, not that it made a difference. She gave a slightly bitter smirk as she opened her lids to the exact same darkness as before.

No difference.

"Orihime?"

"Hm…?" she answered distractedly, halting in her path. She actually hadn't been paying attention to where she had been going, and now had no idea where she was.

"What are you doing all the way out here?"

She recognized the voice to be Ishida's, and she gave him a sad little smile; no, more of a travesty of a smile. She wasn't sure that she really remembered what it was like to be truly happy, but she kept her cracked, broken mask up any way.

"I'm not quite sure," she answered, "I was just… thinking."

"I see," the scribe murmured, "Well, if you need anything, Orihime, you know that you can rely on me."

"Thank you," she replied. After a pause, she asked him, "Where am I, exactly?"

"We're by the prison," he answered her, slowly. She had changed, ever since she had met that demon, he thought. She was so absent minded, so sad…

"Is that so?"

"Chizuru…. She'll die here tomorrow, did you know."

"Is that so…?" Orihime repeated more slowly; Ishida stared at her, upset by what he saw. Externally, she was fine, still the same, fiery haired beauty, but her spirit was gone. She didn't smile as often, and her passion had gone from what she did. She tried, he knew, because she didn't want them to worry, but any time she thought she was alone, she dropped her attempt at a smile and simply remained still, face blank and empty. She had the same detached look about her now as she turned her face toward him, staring him directly in the face, a gaze without sight.

"Would you guide me back to Tatsuki's house?" she asked quietly.

"Of course," the scribe replied, "But you will have to stay on my left side, my right arm is still… delicate."

Orihime heard the bitterness in his tone and gave a wan smile, hardly more than a twitching at the corner of her mouth; it occurred to Ishida that since the demon's disappearance, Orihime had taken on a bit of his visage and demeanor, becoming more shut off and staring into nothingness with half lidded eyes and a melancholy expression.

"Remember, master scribe," she told him softly, a hint of a hard edge in her voice, "it was you who fired on him first."

Ishida didn't answer, and the pair of them walked back to Tatsuki's house hand in hand.

Despite the lack of words, and the obvious deterioration of the beautiful woman at his side, Ishida felt unaccountably happy in her presence.

….

"We are gathered here to witness the death of a murderer who brought down nigh on a dozen of our countrymen, friends, and family members; let her shame be known throughout the land. Let it be so."

"Let it be," the crowd chorused from before the high wooden stage where the roan haired woman knelt. Her locks were dirty and lusterless, her kimono torn and stained, her skin darkened with filth, but her eyes darted constantly through the crowd, searching, searching… was it possible that she wasn't there?

She was dragged roughly to her feet, staggering forward until she stood directly beside Yamamoto Genryusai, the man who was to kill her. He was ancient, his white beard falling to his waist; despite his age, he stood tall, garbed in a fine kosode that was stitched with gold thread. Over this he wore a lacquered breastplate, and hanging from his obi was his sheathed katana, the very same weapon that had made him a war hero and a founder of the village so long ago.

It was an honor to be struck down by such a sword as that.

But still her eyes raked the crowd… there! No, that was only Ichigo… he didn't matter. She had something important to tell Orihime. So, so important… well, she'd say it for everyone else, if her princess wasn't there. Someone would tell her the news.

"On your knees," Yamamoto commanded, and Chizuru complied with some difficulty. Her hands were tied behind her, and her fingers numb. Many people who were near death said that their lives flashed before their eyes… it was not so for Chizuru. There was nothing in her mind; every thought had run through her head a thousand times or more while she waited in her prison cell. Her heart had bled dry of fear, of regret, of anger, and of remorse. She was empty. The only thing she wanted now was to deliver her message and die.

In death, there would be peace. Or perhaps hell, but she no longer could bring herself to care. Whatever came to pass, it would be so.

Let it be.

"If you have any last words that you wish to make known, Chizuru Honsho, only daughter to the late Akira Honsho, let them be spoken now." Yamamoto told her quietly. She looked up into his face and saw no hatred. There was only ancient wisdom and a strange form of pity there.

There! Orihime, in the center of the crowd. She was turning away now, starting to push her way out of the mass of bodies, but it was definitely her. That mane of fire could not belong to anyone else.

"The Morobito," Chizuru began, "Is a horrible thing. Pale and cold… horns, wings, claws… a perfect devil."

"If you are going to extol your bravery in killing it, then you may as well be silent, daughter of Akira," Yamamoto rumbled.

"I wasn't finished, Lord. He is a terrible thing, but my princess loves him, and so I tell her this. Orihime!" Chizuru called, and the red head halted for a second before pushing on, "Orihime listen! He's not dead!"

The girl stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face the stage.

"I didn't kill him," the woman said more quietly, but loud enough so that her voice reached her princess. If nothing else, she wanted Orihime to happy when she was gone, "Ulquiorra is not dead. He flew away, on the wings of a bat and dissapeared. He is strong enough not to have died from his injuries."

"He's alive…" Orihime whispered to herself, clouded eyes wide as she clutched her hand to the neckline of her kimono, "He's alive, he's alive!"

There was heat building in her chest; she was so happy, so relieved, so grateful. All the sorrow that had been crushing her beneath its weight simply fell away, and she felt like screaming in joy. That hollow place in her chest was filling again, a rising tide of such utter elation swelling and restoring her heart.

But… Chizuru would die. Orihime had hated her for the last two seasons, for killing Ulquiorra… but she hadn't done that. He was alive. She had caused the lives of others to end, but even criminals deserved to have some comfort in their last moments. If their friendship of before meant nothing now, it was worthless. The back of Orihime's throat burned with the same heat as in her chest as she felt water well up in her eyes and start to spill.

"Yes," Chizuru gave a sad smile, and a single tear slipped along her cheek, "He is alive, but I myself must make my exit."

"Chizuru-"

"Don't forget about me, princess," her smile fell, and her lip trembled, "I tried to do the right thing for you… I'm sorry things ended up this way."

Orihime took a step forward and gave one of her gentle smiles; a true smile, full of warmth and life. Her darkened gaze sparkled with salt water as she gazed blankly up at Chizuru.

"Thank you," she choked, a bit of a sob hanging in her voice, "Thank you Chizuru. It will be alright. Everything… everything will be alright."

Chizuru closed her eyes on that smile. Orihime was being strong and trying not to cry for her… a good send off, all considered.

She heard the blade whistle down, felt barely an instant of pain… Her last thoughts were of Orihime.

"Orihime, you can't do this," Ichigo reasoned, "How will you find your way? How will you get money, or food, or find a place to stay? Please… don't do this."

"I'm shocked to hear myself say this, but I agree with Kurosaki," Ishida gritted, sending a glare at the hot headed boy, "At least take one of us with you,"

Orihime smiled and shook her head as she tied clean white linen about her head, covering the stark silver eyes and wicked scars.

"When I said I had to go look for him, I meant I had to go look for him. I can't just drag one of you away from your family and work, that would be too selfish of me," She turned toward the group that had come to see her off as she shouldered a sling-like bag of supplies, "It will all work out somehow… I can tell stories by the roadside to make money, I guess."

"Orihime… this is dangerous," Tatsuki sounded so upset, hurt even, that Orihime immediately wanted to run to her and give her any comfort she could. She stopped herself however; she couldn't bring herself to give Tatsuki false hope of her remaining in the village. She would never be able to stay, not now that she knew somewhere, maybe very far away from the spot on which she stood, Ulquiorra was out there; the two of them were under the same sky, and no matter the distance between them, Orihime would cross it, and find him.

She hoped.

She stepped forward, and found Tatsuki's hands, clasping them in her own before she gave in, dragging her friend forward into a desperate hug of affection.

"I'll miss you, Tatsuki," she whispered, "I'll miss everyone, but mostly you. I love you, Tatsuki. I'll always think of you as my sister. One day, when I find him, we might be able to come back."

"Orihime," Tatsuki choked, a single drop of saline water landing on Orihime's cheek as her friend began to cry, "Please don't go. At least take me with you. What if you get attacked, or robbed, or lost, or…"

"Don't be like this, Tatsuki," Orihime said softly as she pulled away, reaching up to wipe her friend's cheek free of dampness, "You'll make me cry too."

Tatsuki didn't answer, but Orihime could hear her sobbing quietly into her hands.

"I-… I'm off, everyone."

"Good luck," Ichigo said roughly, and Orihime had to smile a bit as he tried to cover up his anxiety.

"Be safe, Orihime," Ishida sighed, "You're a stubborn woman, so I think you'll find him eventually."

"This is the last time I'll see you…" Tatsuki sniffed, "I really don't want you to go. But you will anyway, because you need to…"

"Don't think of it as the last time we'll meet," Orihime called over her shoulder as she stepped onto the forest path, a long branch, tipped with metalwork done by Ichigo, in her hand to guide her, "We don't know what the future holds."

"That's what scares me," Tatsuki murmured sadly, "Come back to us some day Orihime. Just to let us know that you're okay. Please."

"I will," the fire haired girl rejoined, "I promise.

…

Dry leaves crackled beneath a woman's worn sandals as she made her way into a moderately sized city, crossing off of the path that was sheltered by the dying trees of autumn and onto a cobbled street, her iron-tipped staff sweeping the way in front of her. Her eyes gleamed the same color as the clouded fall sky, a soft gray-blue that was marred only by the scars that stood out from her skin at the corners of her eyes.

She had been searching for a few months, crossing from city to city, sometimes with company to pass the miles with, and other times completely alone. She decided that she quite liked traveling; even though she was blind, there was so much to discover beyond the borders of her home. Still, she was a bit disappointed, discouraged even, not to have found her quarry yet.

Not that she hadn't heard tell of him, no. She had been following a trail of rumors and hearsay ever since she had crossed into the northern part of the country. It made for difficult travel, but the colder climate reminded her of him.

Orihime hefted her bag, weighted with coins gained from her story-weaving in other regions, and continued on her way before she found her path to be blocked by a crowd. The chatter around her was loud, and judging by the heavy, booming sounds ahead, there was a wooden bridge coming up before her, a large one.

The rush of the water was barely discernible over the roar of the people as the red haired woman pushed her way through them, eventually coming to the other side with some difficulty. She puffed out the breath that she had been holding, sighing with relief now that she was free of the mass of bodies that stumbled her with every step.

The talk around her seemed excited now, and she listened closely, wanting to know the reason for the joy in the tones of the people.

"He's going to play now!"

"Hush, hush, let the master do his work."

"He's a strange one, but his music is beautiful."

"If he is a demon, he's not the bad kind, I think."

"Look, he's starting!"

"Hush!"

And then she heard it.

The song. His song.

The familiar notes of a shamisen began to rise on the stiff autumn breeze, floating with the unearthly grace that only music could grant, and she could do nothing but stand there, letting the sad, heartbreakingly sweet melody wash over her. Her lips trembled for a moment before she could speak. What if it wasn't him? What if, by strange coincidence, there was another who knew this tune? What if, what if, what if?

"Ulquiorra," his name dropped from her mouth as the barest hint of a whisper. She could hardly stand it, her heart was thrumming in her chest, her hands were shaking… it took her a moment to realize that the music had stopped. There was a murmur from the crowd and a sudden rushing rustle from the front.

Her staff fell from her nerveless fingers as she found her wrist caught in a steely, frozen grip, her body dragged forward into an equally cold body garbed in rough fabric that scratched her cheek as she buried her face in a familiar chest, inhaling before she had enough breath to sob, clutching herself to him.

Ulquiorra.

Jade eyes the color of spring leaves and swamp moss, verdant eyes with a snake like quality to them gazed blankly at the red of the woman's hair as if fell across the pure white of his exposed arm and held her closer, an tidal wave of emotion rising in his chest such as he had never felt before; such emotion as this, that felt like he might burst, was perhaps what the humans called happiness.

Those eyes marked again the red locks on white flesh… the colors of oblivion.

A/N: Just a few more things before you go…. Now that you've finished the story, please tell me what you think! The next couple of stories I will be putting out are a request fic, a humor/romance/criminal/suspense thing for Soi Fon and Ggio Vega pairing if you are interested in that, and it will be titled Family Jewels with a sort of… double meaning. After that will be another Ulquihime fic, called simply 1918, and based in England, the year 1918… Ulquiorra being a young Spanish immigrant fleeing the Spanish Influenza and Orihime being a grieving young girl who lost her older brother in WWI. Sooo… I take my leave of you all. Thanks again, it has been a pleasure writing this! :3

-M.S.