"Okay, and...done."

Orihime Inoue smiles at her reflection, pleased with the turnout of her appearance. A minimal amount of makeup, deep sunset hair pulled back in a clip, fringe falling free of her pins and into her wide gray eyes. Her dress is a new asset; a turquoise wool-knitted thing that's both soft to the touch and thick enough to provide warmth and modesty. Rangiku had scored it in one of her beginning-of-the-year shopping sprees and given it to her as a late Christmas/New Year Celebration gift. Orihime had adored it the moment she laid eyes on it, and Ulquiorra had too. A win-win on Rangiku's part.

One last swipe of lipgloss and she's all ready for her date with Tatsuki and Rukia and (the result of many long hours spent pleading and puppydog-eyeing) Keigo. It was something they had planned during English class the previous day, a small rendezvous to celebrate the holidays and what they couldn't deny; peace. It's strange, hard to stomach, after everything that had happened. On cue, images flash through the Hime's head. Los Noches, Aizen, a stark white room with barred windows baring the everlasting crescent moon, healing Ichigo only to watch him fight for her, blurs of blackwhitegreen, 'heart', ashes-

She shakes her head to clear it. No, she won't think of that, not now. It's over and done with, something in the past, but on some strange level, not completely terrible. After all. . .

Opening the door slowly, she peers at the lone figure resting on the bed. When a smile tugs at her cheeks, she doesn't resist it.

"Ulquiorra," her voice chimes quietly, more to herself than anything, as she steps fully into the room. He's laying on the bed, one arm carelessly thrown over his eyes and the other dangling off the edge of the bed. Naked from the waist up, his hollow hole is no longer visible on his chest.

Growing more confident, she persists. "Ulquiorra."

A short silence, and then in a sleep-hoarse voice; "Onna."

Orihime pounces on the mattress and sits by his head, mouth tilted in a slight frown. "How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? I have name you know."

Ulquiorra moves his arm and she's greeted with an amused vibrant green stare. "Yeah?"

"Yeah! And I know you know it, too, because you wrote it on that Christmas card! You're Ulquiorra Schiffer, and I'm Orihime Inoue, and-"

Ulquiorra cuts her speech short by pressing a pale hand to her mouth. "Lower your voice, it's too early for this," he says, but his eyes still show mirth.

This time when she pounces, it's on him. "I'm going out today," she informs him with a smile, "with Rukia and Tatsuki, Keigo too. He won't let poor Tat-chan out of his sights."

Ulquiorra's expression softens as he reaches up and around her head to take the clip out of her hair. "I know. You told me yesterday," he says quietly, his fingers combing through her hair where it tumbles over her shoulders.

"Well, I'm telling you again," her smile widens a notch. "You'll be okay without me, right? You won't miss me too much?"

He cracks a smile (an actual smile. She knew the first time she saw it that it would never cease to send her heart racing) and sits up, bringing her with him. "Go. You don't want to keep them waiting."

"Right." With one last grin and a hasty peck to the cheek, she stands up, grabbing her scarf and bag from the dresser. "I'll pick up that book, okay? And I'll be home in time for dinner, promise."

She's out the door in a matter of seconds, the thumpthumpthump of her boots growing fainter and fainter before disappearing completely.

Later, when Rukia claims, "You look even brighter today than usual," Orihime can only smile.