Disclaimer: I do not own bleach

A/N: How the Espada in this fic survived the Winter War shall be explained along the way to the best of my ability, or lack thereof. That said, this may contain tons of loopholes because I am inconsistent and am liable to overlook a lot of details. The main pairing here is Starrk/Ichigo, but there will be others as well, mostly Yaoi. This is after all an Espada/Ichigo experimental crap.

…

Chapter One: Disturbance

Ichigo had been sure that two seconds after the Winter War the remnants of Aizen's army had completely forgotten his existence. This notion had followed some kind of a reality—until Cuatro Espada whom he believed he, or the Hollow inside him, had reduced to dusts showed up on his window, phrasing the stupidest things to ever come out of an Arrancar's mouth,

"There are ghosts in the palace and they're making us all demented."

First and fucking foremost, Hollows easily fell in the category of paranormal entities, which in a broader sense could be accounted for as ghosts. Secondly, everyone in Aizen's army had been either demented or a plain lunatic to start with. Third, if some form of a previously unknown existence was causing severe disturbance to the Espada survivors why should he, Kurosaki Ichigo of all fucking pricks, care, let alone lift a finger? Frankly, there was no end to this list. So Ulquiorra Cifer was taking this much trouble to state piles of rubbish because what?

"Screw you. I have my hands full with Quincy bastards and now you're here yapping about a fucking ghost infestation in your house? What are you, twelve?"

"You misunderstand me, Shinigami; this is a matter of grave urgency, of life and death."

Really, just why had those two blithering idiots brought this obsolete dingbat back to life? Ichigo had no time for participating in childish games, much less for horsing around with a former nemesis, but now he was finding himself doing both.

"Know what, Ulquiorra? I used to want you dead but now, for an entirely different reason, you're pretty much annoying the living shit out of me, not to mention wasting my goddamned time—"

Ichigo could not finish because out of nowhere someone had smothered him with a lethal-smelling handkerchief. As a result, he and his mystery assailant engaged into an unsightly struggle, which ultimately resulted to the Shinigami falling limp and unconscious on his back, straight into the arms of his attacker who happened to be Szayel Aporro Grantz.

"There wasn't a need for that. I told you I could handle him. And what is this substance you've used?" Ulquiorra reprimanded his companion.

"Metaldehyde. Regardless, if I hadn't interfered it would've taken you forever to reach an agreement, being the slowpoke that you are."

"Should we determine by Sonido who the slowpoke is?"

"That's not gonna be fair, Cuatro, because I'll be carrying Kurosaki all the way there. He's pretty heavy, mind you."

For a reason best known to himself, Ulquiorra found Szayel's grin disquieting. There must have been something mysterious in that feminine face because, as of the meantime, it seemed to be begging to be punched. Nevertheless, he argued,

"I will carry him, Octava. You are clumsy and slow."

"Who the hell died and made you boss?"

"Okay, let's be fair here. How long would it take us to be back at Las Noches?"

"More or less eight minutes. Your point?"

"You've been holding Kurosaki for four minutes now. But considering you wrestled with him earlier for approximately two minutes, that intimacy ought to amount to, say, a multiplier of maybe two for the stretch of time you've spent at it. My logic states you have so far spent a total of eight minutes with him—the same amount of time it would take us to be back where we belong. In short, hand him over to me now because it's my turn to hold him."

"Keep your shitty logic to yourself, Cuatro. I got him first—"

Ulquiorra had drawn himself within a foot of Szayel. There was a childish yank, an immature jolt in the chest, and before long the lifeless form of the teen was sagging over Cuatro's shoulder. Szayel had staggered backward due to the blow, with only his attractive, slender physique saving him from looking entirely like a loser. It would be difficult to describe what happened next, but suffice it to say the two Espada would reach Las Noches without further clashing.

…

Upon waking up, Ichigo unleashed his annoyance without any more constraint than if he had been permitted to wring every neck within sight.

"I have a fucking world to save, for fuck's sake! Who the hell gave you morons the authority to assume I'm a fucking paranormal quack?! Just who?!"

He was on a bed, surrounded by Primera, Tercera, Cuatro, Quinto, Sexta, Octava, Lilynette and the Fracciones Tesla Lindocruz. What would he give to be a fucking octopus right now, to be able to slap some sense into these eight people all at once?

"But it's getting out of hand! Dude, I can't even sleep at night, let alone shower in peace—can't you see this is driving me insane? One more day of this and I'm off my fucking rockers!" Grimmjow burst forth.

If someone like Sexta could get any crazier, Ichigo thought, there ought to be some new standard with which to measure crazies, to accommodate this guy's complex. That aside, Grimmjow's face seemed to have acquired a subtle sharpness over the last year and a half, making him more…handsome? Ichigo shook his head at the thought. In time, he said,

"That doesn't answer my question. Why me? Jesus. Can we, like, do something for a change here? Maybe think or start using our brains?"

The Arrancars stared at one another. The fact was, an unseen force had taken abode in the palace. At first, it was just your usual missing and misplaced objects, and so the Espada had chosen to take lightly of it, to the point of regarding it like some playful thing which could no more harm them than could Lilynette start acting like a lady. But then two weeks ago, things had started to get creepy. Starrk had been finding sloppily written notes on his bed, which read 'Let's sleep together, forever'. He had suspected it had been Lilynette's doing, except for that one gaping loophole; the kid was illiterate and therefore could neither write nor read. And what was more, she was never the type to be sentimental. Primera wasn't alone in these bizarre experiences; Halibel of late had been finding herself sleepwalking in the unholiest of hours, ending up in places she was least likely to be in in the middle of the night. Szayel wasn't faring along any better either. Four times in the past week he had woken up to a chill creeping around his ankles. On the other hand, Grimmjow, who secretly kept a jaguar plushie in his closet, had been suspecting the stuffed animal to be capable of mobility. And so on. When all these inexplicabilities had continued to pile one atop another seemingly without end, the remaining Espada had decided it was about time for these to stop. Szayel, aka Mr. Know-it-all, was the one who had volunteered that all this had been a poltergeist's doing. None of his companions had heard of the word before, hence he had been forced to device a way to access what humans called the internet through his computers, after which he had allowed them to read article after article to their hearts' content. When all had been said and done, everyone had mutually agreed they needed a human because, surely, humans were more familiar with this sort of thing. Humans even had these peculiar professions like paranormal investigators, ghost hunters, clairvoyants. On that note, was Ichigo the best choice? That was the nagging question as of the moment. But all six Espada had answered simultaneously on that eventful council meeting. 'Kurosaki Ichigo' had been the name that had dislodged out of their throats at the same time. Why? God knew.

"We heard you could see ghosts much better than the average human." Szayel volunteered.

It was true, so true in fact he would not have batted an eye should an army of apparitions march across the room right now. Brushing past ghosts and ignoring them had been a daily part of his life for as long as he could remember. Deeming that to be a sufficient explanation, Ichigo heaved himself from the bed, slightly wobbling due to the chemical he had inhaled earlier.

Ulquiorra made a motion to support him. Wincing was the most considerate stunt he could pull in return. Just what was Ulquiorra thinking, acting like some chivalrous prince? But this courtesy would amount to nothing, because Starrk had rushed beside Ichigo and was now touching the underside of his arm, his palm gentle. It made Ichigo shiver, and this sensation had very little to do with the temperature.

"Can you stand?" Primera asked, his eyes penetrating, to which Ichigo reddened.

"Yeah, why not?" Ichigo dismissed, still feeling dazed.

"Damn you, Szayel. What the hell did you give him?" Starrk turned to Octava.

"Just a little subduing something, ignorant fool."

"I said no sick tricks, dumbass. What if—"

"—Did you think I'd do a shit to hurt him? Do your homework, shithead—"

"—Starrk's right." Grimmjow cut Szayel's voice. Presently, the idea occurred to Grimmjow that he could not allow these two to act all possessive over the visitor… as if they owned him. Oh, no, not gonna fucking happen. He snarled, "Who the fuck gave you the permission to use your shitty laboratory products on him?"

"Metaldehyde is human-made; any moron knows that. Besides, it merely made him drowsy, didn't it, Ichigo-chan?"

"Don't call him that, Szayel. You're not in good terms with Kurosaki." Ulquiorra warned.

"And you are?"

"He and I had numerous engagements in the past, most notable among these was the one carried out less than two years ago in the throne room, you dunce."

"Where you got killed. Is this a sad case of short-term memory loss?" Szayel was grinning ever so triumphantly. Affronted by the naked truth, Cuatro could only shrug.

And now none of this was fascinating any longer. Were these jerks fighting over him? If this should continue no doubt he would go nuts before he ever managed to discover what exactly he was here for.

"Starrk, get your paws off Kurosaki, for crying out loud." Grimmjow barked at Primera. Sexta's tone of voice, and nothing else, caused Starrk's hand to drop at his side.

"Idiot. Continue being irritable like that and you'll know what a wolf pack can do to a jaguar."

"A pack, huh? Since when did Mr. Loneliness Incarnate get a hold of friends?" Grimmjow's mocking words affected Starrk like a gag order, because now Primera was looking like something had got stuck in his windpipe.

"My bet is on Primera." Quinto spoke for the first time.

"No one asked for your opinion, horseteeth."

The empty threats continued in the background, and all they did was to exasperate the poor Shinigami. If there was a way to quell his annoyance now, he was sure it would take much more than just cutting the tongues out of these dudes. Just then, Tercera approached him,

"So, Kurosaki-kun, it is my understanding that you can detect paranormal activities."

Ichigo examined her from head to toe, until he realized he was gaping at her. Aside from Orihime and Matsumoto, never before had he seen a woman so full in the chest. Tia Halibel fell nothing short of ridiculously attractive, notwithstanding that her collars were covering her face more than halfway down. Thank heavens more than half the boobs were visible…

"As a matter of fact, yeah."

"Will you take a minute to read the unwelcome presences in the palace. Let's take advantage of these idiots' distraction." She referred to the strife going about between the five formidable males before them.

Because her civil, yet altogether entrancing, conduct rendered her impossible to refuse, Ichigo nodded. What infinite consequences were entailed in that tiny gesture he would not have the slightest idea for a very long time. As a result, he found himself straining his sixth sense, reading any stirrings within their vicinity and beyond.

But what was this feeling?

It wasn't a ghost at all, not even close. Ghosts were mostly spirits of the departed who, by some force or another, were made to linger on in the material world. That served to tell they weren't much to be feared. They were capable of menace, of petty malicious undertakings but, for the most part, they had once been humans. Pesky mundane beings. This, the thing that was currently roaming around Las Noches, however was something else, something that had never, in the course of its existence, inherently owned a human body. Having deduced as little, or as much, he decided these Espada dudes weren't pulling his leg, nor were they simply making excuses to win his intimacy—as at least half of them had demonstrated they had these huge territorial complex/something for him. Indeed, these warriors needed help, badly.

"Sorry to disappoint, guys, but we're not dealing with a poltergeist." Ichigo announced, lulling the activities in the room and momentarily suspending the animosity emanating from the male Arrancars.

"What is it?" The Espada asked in unison.

He drew himself up in a way which made his posture impressionable. Sighing deep, he said,

"Something else—something infinitely more dangerous than a ghost. In the human world, we like to call them demons."

TBC