Hi there. I'm Sara. This is my very first FanFiction, and I have no Beta, so please be nice.

I am sort of excited for this, though I do hope that I am able to actually get through this fic and finish it. I'm not planning on this being a very long story, Ten Chapters at most, so maybe the fact that it's going to be a bit short will help out with the whole "I never finish any stories I start" deal.

The characters, especially that of Orihime, may be a bit ooc, and I'm sorry if she seems a bit... crazy. Everything will make more sense in due time :)

Disclamer: And I will only say this once, I DO NOT OWN BLEACH.

I hope you enjoy the first chapter of Devil.

Novation, noun

1. Law. The substitution of a new obligation for an old one, usually by the substitution of a new debtor or of a new creditor.

2. The introduction of something new; innovation.

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Devil

Chapter One.

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When I first met him, I thought he was strange with his deathly pale skin and bright eyes that, at a glance, could have easily been mistaken as emeralds, but I liked him. Everyone else I knew was too normal, and I was beginning to get tired of seeing normal everywhere, so when he walked into the small, clustered, dusty bookstore I was employed one afternoon, an air of importance engulfing him, I felt refreshed, yet intimidated, by the change.

I was sitting at the front desk, halfway through re-reading the ninth Lemony Snicket book (The Carnivorous Carnival was always my favorite as a child) when I heard the ding of the front door opening and closing. I looked up from my reading to see this dark-haired man perusing the walls and shelfs of books.

What was the first thing I did? I blushed.

And then I did something really stupid. I spoke to him.

"Hello, sir," I said, much more confidently than I felt, "Do you need any help with finding something?"

And he just looked up. Slowly and carefully, as if he would break if he moved to quickly (I wouldn't be surprised if he did break, he was too perfect for any human). His green eyes stared at me for a moment, almost as if he was observing me, like a scientists observes his specimen or a hunter observes his prey, and then spoke in a deep, soothing baritone, "No, thank you. I'm just browsing."

For a moment, I was too shocked to move or retort at all, but I felt my head nodding, almost robotically, and I looked down at my book and began reading once again. But, the funny thing was, was that I couldn't read it. I tried to look like I was reading, but I was too preoccupied with this man that was walking around the shop, mere feet from where I was sitting. He would pick old books off shelfs attentively with his slender fingers, glance at the cover, and then open the book to thumb through the pages before closing it and setting it back on the shelf in it's proper place. I noticed that all the book he would pick to examine were rather old copies - books with frayed edges or weathering spines and yellowed pages. Most of them were also noticeably thick which got me wondering what sort of books he was into. Did he enjoy the classics like Moby Dick and Tom Sawyer, or did he enjoy even older writings? Was he a Shakespeare Person? If he was, did he prefer the tragedies or the comedies? I didn't bother asking him, though. He looked too preoccupied with his… browsing.

I did notice, though, his gratuitous attire which consisted of a fitted, fancy, and rather expensive looking tuxedo. I was sure, almost positive, that today was not sunday, and unless he was going to or coming from a wedding or funeral or something of the similar that he wouldn't be wearing something so formal. Unless, of course, he was just a weirdo.

But he couldn't be a weirdo. He was too… too… proper to be a weirdo. He stood perfectly with his back straight and his shoulders rolled back, he kept his chin up and his hands behind his back as he walked, and there was absolutely no way that a weirdo would read some of the books he was picking out: The Jungle and Roots were just a few of what I noticed when he was skimming the shelfs closest to the register. His hair was even perfect, not a single hair out of place, and unnaturally black even though I was sure that it was natural. I couldn't picture him with any other sort of hair color, and even though it was strange considering how light his skin was, it fit him. It fit his demeanor and his persona perfectly. Everything about him was perfect, and I felt flattered that he had chosen my bookstore to enter. It was as if I owned a restaurant in a kingdom and the king had decided to dine in my establishment.

When he walked up to the register, a copy of Henry David Thoreau's Walden, or Life in the Woods in hand, my heart started racing and I began to fear speaking to him again. I was suddenly confused by my actions, after all, this was a stranger. Why would I be freaking out like this, like I was about to go on a first date or take an important exam? I dismissed the uneasiness as a feeling of intimidation from this mans stature and smiled as he walked up to the desk and placed the book in front of me.

I grabbed the book and began typing in the price on the register.

"Did you find everything you needed, sir?"

"Yes," He said flatly and I felt his bright eyes watching my movements carefully, "You have quite an interesting collection here."

I looked up from my work I smiled and chirped a pleasant 'thank you' before looking back down at the register. I pressed a button and a price popped up on the small display screen. "Seven Fifty-Seven, please." I said and began packaging the book in a small brown bag. He pulled out a rather lavish leather wallet and pulled out a ten. I swapped the paper bag out for the bill, and began punching in more number to evaluate his change.

"I may have to start coming here more often." He said, his smooth voice flowing through my ears sweetly and I breathed in deeply to try an calm myself, again blaming my strange behavior on his intimidating persona.

"Well I'm glad you enjoy my selection so much," I said, beginning to retrieve his change, "And if there's ever something you can't find, we can always order it for you." I smiled, reaching my hand out to his to give him the change. He took it gracefully and slipped the bills into his wallet, moving to stash the change in his coat pocket. He gave a slight nod and began to turn towards the exit.

"Thank you very much, miss." He spoke as he grasped the door handle, not even bothering to look back.

"Come back soon!" I called as the door closed behind him.

I sighed, the suffocating feeling beginning to ease as I felt myself breath more normally. I collapsed back into my rolling chair, and picked up my long forgotten book. It took a while of just sitting there trying to pacify my emotions. It's strange to think about that night, even now, considering how completely insignificant it may seem. He could have been just any other pedestrian, any other citizen, but like I mentioned at the beginning of this memoir - he was strange.

There was some significance in this first meeting, and if it was fate or a coincidence I wouldn't be sure because even though I am a firm believer of fate, there was just too much peculiarity of this meeting for it to be classified as such. As I was saying, there was a very potent significance of this man, and this first meeting of ours, and there would be only a quick sentence that could describe just how noteworthy this meeting was:

This was the first time I had met Mr. Ulquiorra Ciffer.

"I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity." -Edgar Allen Poe

I wasn't able to keep that man from the bookstore out of my mind. Every waking moment for weeks later, he'd be in my thoughts, staring at me with his calculating eyes. It was a strange experience, not being able to leave his face for a moment.

I started thinking about this mystery man almost as much as I thought about Ichigo, and Ichigo… well, he was always in my thoughts. I had known Ichigo for years, since we were kids. His mother had died the same year my brother had, so we both spent time together in our counseling class.

When I was a child a stray bullet in a super market found its way to my brother, and I was sent to an hour-long class after school called Sunset. Two weeks after my first day in that class, Ichigo was brought in. His hair, which at first surprised me, matched my own reddish tresses. That was what caught my attention. I had always been teased for my bright, obnoxious hair color, and seeing someone with the similar features made me think that someone might know how I felt.

He and I became friends quickly. He was a bit quiet and stubborn, but once you got past his cold demeanor he was actually a real nice guy. His mother had passed in a car accident but, unlike my own experience, he was there with her when she died. I felt sad for him; I felt his same pain.

I realized quickly that he loved his mother a lot.

After years and years, Ichigo and I considered each other best friends, and I had developed a sort of infatuation with him. He had grown up to be very, very handsome, and after all what girl doesn't want a guy who's good looking? Though, it wasn't only looks that caught my attention.

Ichigo was kind, protective, intelligent, the model student in high school and even through college he maintained that reputation. Although, he did get into his fair share of fights and was almost always walking around with some sort of bandage or cast on his body. Despite his anger issues, he was able to inspire the student body as student council vice president and the star midfielder for the soccer team.

I seemed to have gone off track… sorry, but, I could go on about Ichigo for hours. We were talking about that guy in the bookstore.

Since that day, I would go into work hoping to see him again, to maybe get his name and talk to him for a little bit. I wanted to know more about him besides the fact that he liked reading, and dressed nice, and first choice for a book was Thoreau. Other than that… there was nothing.

The only time I had seen him was in a dream. It was a strange dream, where I was in a forest. Trees would be everywhere, but only one tree stood out from the others. It was the largest tree with a twisted trunk and large roots. Its branches knotted with each other as if they were ropes and its leaves were a dull green shade, as if summer had yet to end but autumn had yet to start.

Then he'd be there, this man, his pale face framed by his dark locks and his bright green eyes peeking out from under his bangs. He would be dressed in fine clothing, looking just like he did in the bookstore, except for one difference. The contrast was small and hardly noticeable, yet it made a surprisingly large impact on me. He would have two lines, black as night, falling from his eyes down his cheeks like tear tracks.

When I wake up I'm more fearful for myself than I've been in my whole life, but in the dream I am anything but afraid. I look upon his… demonic face and think, how beautiful.

It was, simply, beautiful.

I didn't hang around my friends too much those weeks, too engrossed in my own thoughts to really even do anything. It wasn't until one Tuesday that I looked in my refrigerator and realized I had nothing left in there to eat. I didn't want to go grocery shopping and spend one hundred dollars on food that will only last me until the weekend, so I called up my friend Tatsuki and asked her to lunch.

Tatsuki, besides Ichigo, has been my longest friend. She was a few inches taller than me, which still wasn't very tall, and styled her dark hair short and spikey. She knew me better than anyone, so she could tell that something was wrong with me before the waiter had even brought our drinks out.

We were sitting on the patio of a small teahouse in the city. I had ordered a French Vanilla Coffee while she had ordered herself some Hot Chai Green Tea. We were sitting there in a comfortable silence when she began bombarding me with questions.

"Are you okay, Orihime?" Was the first thing she asked, drumming her fingers on the cloth-clad table, "You haven't really been yourself lately."

"What do you mean?" I said innocently, tucking a tuff of hair behind my ear and leaning my elbows on the table. Her eyes locked on mine as if looking for anything out of the ordinary. She leaned back in her seat as the waiter walked over with two cups. She waited until our waiter had finished setting our drinks down and collected our orders before continuing.

"Well… I mean, you've just been kind of," She paused, as if trying to search for the right words, "Withdrawn."

"W-withdrawn" I sputtered in the middle of a sip of my coffee. "How have I been withdrawn?"

"Well," Tatsuki began, stirring her tea with a spoon distractedly; "You haven't really been doing anything besides working and staying in your apartment. You never try to hang out with me or the guys anymore, I mean, I know its college and all, Hime, but there's got to be time in your schedule for friends, yeah? And you haven't really been as… happy as you usually are. It's… weird. Is something wrong? You even have dark circles around your eyes, have you been sleeping well?"

I touched the skin beneath my eyes, wondering if the dreams were affecting me in any way, then smiled shyly at Tatsuki, happy that she cared enough about me to bring my behavior up. I knew that I was being withdrawn, but I had good reasons for it. The only problem I had, though, was that I wasn't ready to confide all of my problems to Tatsuki. So, I kept my mouth shut about the strange man, and tried to reassure her.

"I'm glad you care, Tatsuki," I said "But there's nothing really going on. I've just been studying a lot so that's probably why I haven't been getting much sleep."

I don't think she believed my lie for one minute, but she left the situation alone and shrugged her shoulders. The waiter brought our food, and we began to dig in.

"Anyways," she said, stuffing a fork full of salad into her mouth, "Since you really need to get out of the house you should come with me and Ichigo and a few others this weekend to the beach."

"The beach?" I said, smothering my fries with ketchup and trying not to notice Ichigo's name was involve in that invitation, "Sounds fun. I can try and get off work, I guess."

"You don't need to study?" Tatsuki joked. I laughed, a real one and not a fake, awkward laugh.

"Nah, I've studied enough for now."

"You seem less excited than I thought you'd be," Tatsuki laughed, "I mean, Ichigo's going!"

I couldn't help but smile at that. Tatsuki knew about my feelings for Ichigo. She said it was obvious, but unless Ichigo was just utterly stupid with relationships he hasn't seemed to notice.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I should be more excited!"

"Maybe I can try and get y'all to sit next to each other when we have the bonfire." Tatsuki said, nudging my arm with hers, and for the first time in weeks I felt more like myself. It was a nice feeling, so nice that I invited Tatsuki to spend the rest of the afternoon with me.

We walked to the mall and shopped around for a few hours, then went bowling. We ate the bowling alley burgers for dinner, which I think are much more tasty than people give them credit for and before we knew it the night was over and we needed to be going home. Tatsuki had an early class the next day, and so did I. We called it a night.

I had to run to the bus stop to make sure I didn't miss the last run of the evening. I was sitting on the bench humming a happy tune to myself, the dark haired man long forgotten. No one else was waiting for the bus that night, and I felt myself shivering from the evening chill.

Five minutes passed. Ten. I was still the only person on the bench.

Then finally, when I saw the bus approaching down the street I began anticipating a nice warm apartment and some sherbet ice cream and re-runs of That '70s Show. I was so engrossed with my own thoughts that I didn't notice a man walk up next to me without saying a word.

The bus came to a slow stop right in front of the man and I. I walked onto the bus first, placing a coin into the small slot, and skipping to find a spot by myself towards the middle of the vehicle. That was when I noticed the man who was with me on the stop, who had moved to take the seat opposite from mine. I became stiff and found my eyes trying to look anywhere but to the right of me, where I knew he was sitting with his back as straight as a knife.

After all, I would know those green eyes anywhere.

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Chapter One

End.