P . A . T . H . W . A . Y

I

Stray

How shall we leave the lost road
Time's getting short so follow me
A leader's task so clearly
To find a path out of the dark

"You have been given your orders," a strong deep voice intoned, the silky quality of it casting no echoes in the large expanse of white. Swathed in shadow, the great white throne of the heavens appeared more sickly gray than the glorious radiance it was supposed to inspire, as if the form it held had corrupted it to a mere shade of its former self. The figure seated within it idly brushed a particle of dust from his lordly coat, his steely eyes fixed on the being standing before him.

The being was human in appearance, although he seemed strangely distorted in the perpetually shifting light and dark of the throne hall. The figure was lean and thin, his skin chalk-white; neither sallow nor frail, but ghostly. The man would have appeared almost innocent in appearance, if it were not for his eyes. They shone a wicked green in the semi-darkness, like the reflected luminosity of cats' eyes at night. If one looked closely, one could see that the pupils were long and narrow as well.

The place was strange; so full of spiritual energy that time seemed to stop as soon as one entered within. Not a whisper of breath could be heard from those residing here, only the voices of those wishing to be heard. And yet all here were aware of one another's presence…

The cat-like eyes shifted slightly, mechanically, although the figure remained still, his hands lying lazily in the pockets of his long hakama.

Alone of all the twenty, he would not bow to the one seated in the throne, despite being only the fourth most powerful of his 'siblings'. But then, it didn't matter—so long as he continued to obey orders, down to every last detail. The man in the throne of heaven smiled warmly, though the superficial grin did not reach the cold depths of his eyes. He studied the spectral figure closely - it wasn't like the fourth Espada to hesitate; his command had been simple enough.

How strange.

"As you wish, Aizen-sama," the figure answered, the pale face as impassive as always.

In another instant, he had vanished, leaving a thoughtful silence in his wake.

A lurid sun blazed radiantly in the cloudless cerulean sky, the grass beneath it swathed in its solar warmth. There was a breeze, nearly indiscernible amidst the myriad green sylvan forests and calm plains, but it was there nonetheless, like a whisper half-uttered. The gentle waves it created in the grass told of its presence. It dabbed at the sweat of those it touched, and played in the leaves of the friendly trees. The grounds behind the old shrine were rarely used; everything here was overgrown save for a deep-set canyon at the bottom of the hill. The ground there was bare from the centuries of reiatsu used over it. Powerful spells had been cast and honed within, and over time the mystical energy had charred the life from the canyon base—it was full of boulders and grainy sand.

For once the white-tressed man sitting upon the hilltop was not seated there to enjoy the atmosphere. Since the confrontation with the Menos, the weather, oddly enough, appeared halcyon and fair. Not too hot, nor too cold. It was perfect for sipping afternoon tea, or training in the vibrant sun.

The calm before the storm.

He swallowed hard, remembering all that had happened, and thinking of all that would happen in the near future. Aizen's betrayal had put all the captains on edge—everyone was busy, working hard, training, overseeing—it was enough to drive one to drink. Captain Ukitake sighed, brushing his silvery-white hair from his face before taking another long draw of tea. The pungent texture of the loose leaves left a pleasant taste in his mouth.

Below him, within the training grounds, a pair of figures wove and danced about one another, flashes of light both brilliant orange and cold blue blinking in and out of the thin layer of air between them. One was small and dark—a blurred shadow in the stark sunlight. The other was lean and tall—a girl dressed in a simple school uniform. Her fiery red hair hung loose and unkempt about her shoulders. Ukitake smiled knowingly. The small dark figure clearly had the upper hand, moving less often than her red-haired counterpart, although it was clear the human girl was holding her own. Every once in a while the two would pause simultaneously while a swift critique was made, and other times both would sit on the ground and rest and laugh.

They certainly seemed to be having fun at least…

But...

Four months. That was all they had. Captain Ukitake had been glad to lend these girls the training grounds behind the shrine given the circumstances. A battle was drawing ever closer, and it was good to be prepared. A thread of uneasiness tugged at his insides. For the tenth time that day, the captain wondered what the future had in store. Where Aizen would send his Hollow minions next—just how many Arrancar he had under his control. What sort of monsters these beings actually were.

Ukitake's brow furrowed as he watched the dueling girls, wondering if whatever they accomplished within these four months' time would, in the end, be enough.

Orihime wiped her brow clean of sweat and grime.

She was exhausted.

The human girl could feel her reiatsu begin to expire, and glanced at her opponent, wondering if the smaller woman was feeling fatigued at all. But that thought was quickly washed away. She watched as the shinigami leaped high into the air, her hands held out before her, tendrils of blazing sapphire energy already coursing along her fingertips. Orihime Inoue's blue eyes widened as she instinctively drew her hands in the customary position over her head. As her shield became ready for release, she found time to smile at her friend, admiringly.

What energy Kuchiki-san had!

"Byakurai!" Rukia cried, just before the stored energy in her hands released itself, the line of cerulean lightning whipping forward towards its target. Just in time, Orihime conjured the familiar bright orange, fiery triangle. The blast struck hard, but Santen Kesshun held fast, this time. As Rukia came at her again, she called out to her not to hold back. Orihime nodded in fierce acknowledgement, a grin upturning the corners of her small mouth.

All right, Kuchiki-san. Try this one on for size!

She leaped aside as Rukia dashed towards her, zanpakouto held high, her thoughts drawn to Tsubaki, the flame spirit—her only mode of attack. Her mind summoned him with all her remaining strength, but the fire demon was silent, as he had been since the encounter with the Menos Grande only a month ago. Disappointment and worry clouded her features…

Crap!

As Rukia's blade drew nearer, Orihime could only dodge again. She jumped backwards, but found that Rukia was already sliding behind her, sword inches from her defenseless back.

And then, the critique began.

For someone so short, the human girl thought, Kuchiki-san could deliver one of the longest and most extravagant lectures in the Soul Society. She was doing well, but needed to get faster, and observe her surroundings. She focused too much on holding up her shield, but not enough on her opponent. She moved too often, and it drained her strength. The redhead nodded politely in between statements, her mind wandering out of worry for her lost flame spirit, and for a certain someone else as well…

Distantly, Orihime recalled the encounter only a short time before with the Arrancar. The reason they were training so hard now. As the scenario replayed in her mind, she realized just how much worse it could have been…

Ichigo…

At the time, she was awed at how strong he was. His bankai energy resonated with unyielding spiritual pressure—she'd watched the familiar black energy spiral in bursts of controlled chaos around him, her confidence in him soaring. He called the power forth with such astonishing ease that Orihime had wondered if it cost him any effort at all. It was no wonder the intruders had seemed shocked, she had thought. She had felt it when the young Soul Reaper had fought against Captain Kuchiki there on the mountaintop, but it was something else entirely to see him in action up close… until…

Something had gone wrong, as if Ichigo's own power were rebelling against him. He'd been brutally beaten by the larger stranger; the overgrown Arrancar she had tried to defend herself and her mangled friend against before he had come. In a desperate attempt to save Chad and Tatsuki, she'd put up the same shield before them both, sending as much of her energy as she could into its fabric before the impact came. The great hand descended roughly, the barrier practically creaking under its force. Orihime's hands had trembled with the effort of holding back its strength, and the bright triangle—cracked, and faded only seconds later.

Badly frightened but determined, Orihime gathered together what reiatsu she had left to set up an attack—her only one. The giant's surprise granted her a moment to look at the two vastly different Menos. If she could strike at both Arrancar with the same technique… if she could just distract them long enough for help to arrive… Chad's arm was healing well enough for now, but the Menos' attack had badly strained her energy resources. She was having trouble concentrating on mending her unconscious friend's wounds as well as drawing up an offensive…

She took a second as the two Menos conversed with one another to study them… the larger, heavier Arrancar had his full attention on his smaller, sleeker comrade, who seemed somewhat bored with the whole affair. And Orihime couldn't help but stare.

His face…

Her eyes met those of toxic green etched within a pallid face more reminiscent of a funerary mask than an actual visage. The poisonous viridian of those orbs seemed to bleed over onto the chalky skin. Green tear-streaks that might have been comical on another's countenance, but the cold interest of those eyes sent shivers down her spine; he looked at her as if she were an unusual specimen accidentally spotted in a petri dish. And he hadn't attacked yet, hadn't done anything but stand there and observe.

Something about him terrified her…

Orihime's own blue eyes narrowed in response. She looked back into those orbs defiantly resisting her own fear. Summoning all the resolve she had left, she held her trembling hands in front of her, forming a triangle she aimed between the duo. She could feel Tsubaki readying for release, and screamed the command, intent on using him at his full force at last—these monsters who had harmed her friends, and these nameless people all around her, who were unlucky enough to be caught in the wrong place at the wrong time…

"Koten Zanshun!" she began, her voice quavering, yet strong. Flares of vibrant orange erupted immediately around her, the spirit summoned within them angry. The force of this reiatsu took her by surprise—the flame spirit answered to her own determination and amount of energy. She felt her resolve strengthen as she perceived how strong her magic had become. The fire demon was silent, and ready. Tsubaki had seen firsthand the atrocities committed by these two - and wouldn't stand for it. The souls of those around them were eaten—gone. For the first time in many months, Orihime's own anger flared—she closed her eyes against the brightness in her own palms…

"I REJECT!"

Violent tongues of flame leaped to her extended hands, the resulting beam of energy slicing at the larger Arrancar. Orihime prayed that Tsubaki would make it past the first, and strike the second as well. Then, as always, Ichigo would get here and save them all, once again.

She knew he would come…

The human girl watched the giant's eyes widen with glee, saw him deflect the blast, while the green-eyed stranger merely gazed on, as though this were all a rather uninteresting television show. She could feel Tsubaki vanish, perhaps injured—or worse.

Orihime's stomach plummeted, her face blanched in fear and astonishment. All that power, and he had deflected it so easily…

Who were these people?

"Lookie here, Ulquiorra!" the giant addressed his comrade in a voice both bumbling and garbled. "Is she trash, too? Can I crush her?" The giant Hollow's clumsy gaze flickered from the beaten girl to the bored Arrancar. Orihime found herself looking into those eyes too, this time questioning her fate. The stranger had never even moved, it seemed, as if he were only a painted statue. She waited for him to speak; and all the while, her heart was pounding against her ribcage, hoping that Ichigo would come, would make it in time.

The thin, ghostly stranger seemed to ponder for a few seconds, as if taking current circumstances into account before passing judgment. Finally, the green eyes closed. Orihime listened closely, her breath held.

Please, Ichigo…

"Yes," the Arrancar said at last, his voice flat and icy, the emotionless voice of a computer speaking through a man's deep voice. "Trash. Both are inconsequential."

"Orihime!"

Rukia's apprehensive voice interrupted her thoughts. She looked up, half-expecting to see the pale Menos from her vivid memory, but that was silly. There was no way she would see him again - at least, she hoped.

Her gaze quickly fell upon an obsidian colored butterfly hovering just above the space between them. Orihime looked at it blankly, as if it were a flying pink elephant, rather than a messenger.

"Espada!" the short Soul Reaper explained angrily, obviously perturbed that Orihime had really not been paying that much attention. The stress was palpable in her tone.

The human girl's lips parted. It took a few moments for the word to sink in.

Espada?

The two she had seen before?

"Four of them have just appeared!"

Orihime gulped, her mouth suddenly dry.

"They weren't supposed to come for another—" she began, feeling the panic rise. Where were they? What were they doing here? Why had they come yet again after only a month?

"I know," Rukia's brow furrowed in thought. Distantly, Orihime heard Captain Ukitake beside them, his tea long forgotten.

"I'm going," Rukia began. "Everyone's there! I've got to—"

Everyone's there...

"I'm coming too!" Orihime blurted. Her fists were clenched defiantly. All this training—surely she could be of help this time. She had to be there… for Ichigo's sake. If he tried to find them, tried to fight, she wanted to be there to protect him. She

This time… things would be different.

To see him injured, and defenseless… was too much to bear even once. He was supposed to be powerful, invincible in her eyes; but when he wasn't, it was her job to be strong for him. No matter what happened... Her expression must have betrayed her feelings, because as soon as she glanced up at Kuchiki-san again, she saw both pity and chagrin written on the shinigami's face.

"You won't be able to follow me without a second butterfly," Rukia said quietly. "You'll be lost between the dimensions." She gave Orihime a meaningful look.

"I've got to send you to the real world before I go."

Orihime felt cold, all her previous musings wiped clean. Was Kuchiki-san trying to say she'd only get in the way? A month of hard training, and precious little to show for it. She swallowed hard, unsure of what to say, her heart quailing under the shorter girl's calm gaze. She was supposed to be there to defend him - to not see him in battle would be horrible. What if he got hurt, and she wasn't there to help him?

What if he got hurt protecting her?

Maybe Kuchiki-san is right…

Would she only get in Ichigo's way if she came at this point?

There was a shifting sound behind her, and Orihime felt a warm hand cup her shoulder, though it did little to comfort her.

"She's right, Orihime," Ukitake said. "Without a second hell butterfly, you wouldn't be able to find your way back to any dimension, and that wouldn't do anyone any good. The best thing you can do now is to follow Rukia's instructions. You'll be safe there in the real world; I'll send guards with you.

"And don't worry," Ukitake said as Orihime turned towards him, glaring mutinously despite her conflicting feelings. "Your time will come." The captain offered a kind smile, which the human girl returned, more out of habit than anything else. She sighed helplessly, remembering Ichigo's fight with Byakuya Kuchiki only weeks before. She'd been weak then, too. Unable to aid him… and she knew it.

She would only have caused him trouble.

Rukia's hand outstretched, and she took it miserably.

After all, did she have a choice?

Ulquiorra Schiffer observed disdainfully as his five subordinates opened the portal from Las Noches that would take them to the group of Soul Reapers training obliviously below. He folded his arms, bemused. Did they not know that Aizen and all the Arrancar could see them at all times; attack at any given moment? Instead, they were working and training under the hot sun for weeks on end, all for naught. In the end it would do them no good, no matter how powerful they thought they had become. Ulquiorra closed his eyes.

Pitiful.

The great room they were in was empty, but so large that the normal icy walls were hidden completely in the surrounding misty shadow. Yards and yards of gray marble floor stretched underneath them. It was as though they stood in flat, dark tundra.

Ulquiorra glared at each Espada in turn, his cold eyes resting lastly on cerulean-haired Grimmjow, who turned and gave him a menacing grin.

You got the easy job.

And so he had; but it was Ulquiorra Schiffer that Aizen had entrusted with this task, not his somewhat hotheaded counterpart. A logical choice on all counts. Of all the Espada, Ulquiorra was best suited for this particular errand. Unlike half the other Vasto Lordes, he could think clearly in tight situations. He was powerful enough to break any opposition that he might encounter, yet small enough to do so inconspicuously. Unlike Grimmjow and the others, who enjoyed ravaging half the surroundings before a fight was finished, he was quick and precise. They, on the other hand, would all draw any battle out for sheer enjoyment—something Ulquiorra believed was entirely wasteful. Once an opponent's spiritual power was gauged, it should be brought down without hesitation. Ulquiorra slid his hands into his pockets and continued to stare ahead, expression unreadable, even as Grimmjow smirked at him.

Thinking of the task ahead brought to mind the particular energy that the human girl had possessed. Nowhere near his own; not even close to the orange-haired Reaper's power. And yet his account of her had fascinated Aizen. The fourth Espada was interested in what sort of power this human girl contained, and why it was that his master had such an interest in her.

He waited for a few moments for the girl to be left with whatever defenses were available to her. He couldn't expect his enemies to be quite as efficient as he was, after all.

Orihime stood within the confines of her own set of bodyguards. Captain Ukitake had sent all the Soul Reapers he could spare to protect her. These men were only trainees, but their offensive attacks would be useful against any Hollows that happened to show up, since her own were lost to her. Since her ordeal with the duo of Arrancar, Tsubaki had yet to heed her call. His absence was unnerving. She pushed the thought from her mind, taking her time to study her surroundings instead.

Rukia had sent them to a forest, at the outskirts of her old home - it would be far too conspicuous to suddenly appear within the city limits. Orihime and her guards would have to walk there, and somehow meld with the crowd. Their farewell had been too hurried for Rukia to explain any more of their precarious situation, but Orihime assumed that she would be taken back to Soul Society after it was all over. The redhead imagined her friends fighting the four Arrancar without her, wishing that she could be there too. She felt miserable and useless out here all alone.

Why had they sent only one hell butterfly?

"Miss Orihime?" one of the guards addressed her, concern in his voice. She looked around at him—the taller of the two. His hair was short and spiked, but Orihime couldn't make out the distinct features of his face in the darkness. The moon high above them was a thin, wispy crescent, the stars clear and bright. She grinned confidently up at the guard, hoping to put him at ease. There wasn't any sense in putting her worries on the shoulders of others. Especially, she thought, when there was nothing to be done about them.

"Okay," she replied cheerfully. "Let's get going! It's a bit of a walk to get to my house from here." The guards exchanged looks, and Orihime took a few steps forward. The city below glowed eerily ahead of them in the roiling mist, the trees all around them like dark spires reaching out at the sky. Orihime glanced to and fro as she walked, ever on the alert for danger, despite the fact that it was unlikely.

But not impossible…

Every step she took seemed loud in the quiet; not a cricket stirred, nor any harmless forest animal that might have frightened her if it moved. There was only a stagnant breeze floating in the air, like the hands of ghosts brushing against her skin. Orihime shivered involuntarily, her attempt at cheerfulness now only a memory. The atmosphere was one that drained all happiness from the air, leaving only an aching anxiety that the lingering silence did nothing to dissipate.

A few more feet, and the gentle wind suddenly rushed against her, peeling her hair back from her face. Orihime winced, her breath taken by the sudden gust. There was a keening noise in the night…

Something rustled behind her. She spun quickly, feeling eyes on the back of her head.

One of the guards had collapsed.

Orihime gasped silently, immediately raising a healing shield around him. She turned, slowly, cautiously, towards the piercing glare of her attacker. She could sense his immense spiritual pressure, even though she knew he was dampening it to keep his visit a secret from anyone who might be watching. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest.

The spiritual pressure was familiar to her.

The ponderous Arrancar had made a mistake in attacking Kisuke Urahara—the shinigami had always been powerful, far more potent than the one grinning before him, preparing for attack. Benihime sent an explosion of red towards the Menos Grande, impossible for him to block or evade at this distance. There was a stunned silence as Yammy's jaw slackened, and to Kisuke's disbelief, the silence was uninterrupted.

A blur of color foretold his coming, his arm raised, body taut but graceful and sinuous. He had blocked the attack with his bare hand. Orihime, injured and delirious, sensed him come closer. She looked up at him, curiously, not understanding. Had he actually saved the larger Menos…?

Orihime stared, unbelievingly, and at last, his gaze found hers.

Blue eyes met those of luminescent green.

The Vasto Lorde was still, the clammy breeze ruffling the edges of his white surcoat. He stared at her through partially lidded eyes, his head tilted as if wondering what she would do next. Orihime stood defiant, for her friends far away, for the one she loved. No matter what happened now, she would see this through for them. Her muscles tensed, preparing for his second rush. His right hand still glowed faintly green, from the Cero that he had just summoned.

Behind her, she could hear the second bodyguard breathing rapidly, his zanpakouto rattling in its sheath. The tall, pale newcomer had all but killed his comrade with a single blast of well-aimed spirit energy. Orihime took up her defensive stance, expecting him to strike at any minute.

I've got to protect them.

She waited for an attack that did not come.

"Come with me, woman," his silky, mechanical voice was deep and quiet. Confusion filled her mind, incessant questions muddying her thoughts. Clear perception was impossible—she took a step backward, her stalwart aura faltering despite herself. Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly, staring into his feline visage. What did he mean, come with him?

Why?

The silence between them was drawn, and it seemed for a minute that they were matching wills. For Orihime, there was the defiance she felt, the sense of responsibility pushed upon her because she was alone. No one to protect her this time. She found herself the one protecting others instead. Just as she had been nearly a month before.

And he… …had a purpose.

Distantly, she heard the sound of metal scraping against a sheath. The zanpakouto had come out, was held in a trembling hand.

The redhead tore her gaze from the Arrancar, turned resolutely to the second trainee, the palms of her hands still pointing outward towards his fallen comrade. The energy would flow more smoothly if she controlled it like this.

"Run," she ordered him, her voice somehow calm despite her pounding heart. The guard stared at her skeptically for a few moments, his hand pressed to the hilt of his sword. There was a fleeting instant in which Orihime thought of rescue, of someone rushing in to help them. Ichigo perhaps. But as she gazed into the guard's panicked eyes, she knew that the three of them were utterly alone. No one knew this Arrancar was here, after her. His reiatsu was held carefully back, so that it only permeated their general area. He was sent here alone, and had injured one of her guardians. And yet he hadn't harmed her in any way.

Why? What does he want with me?

She turned questioningly back to the pallid figure apparently awaiting her acquiescence. He raised a hand, lazily, and Orihime, realizing too late what he was about to do, had no time to raise a protective shield. The hand came down in a casual slashing motion. There was a noise behind her, a flash of green, and the other guard was unconscious, injured as badly as the guard still splayed beneath the shield. Orihime extended the healing hemisphere to envelope both of her protectors. She stood gazing stolidly at the glowing dome, willing the process to go faster, and as she did so it expanded higher, its light staining her face a warm, fiery orange. Beneath it, the guards' skin mended, bones fused, and breath became steady. The sound of the Arrancar's padding footsteps told her he was drawing nearer, but she dared not break her focus from the task. Her heart was dancing now, her mind working to keep her hands steady, to keep the healing spirit Ayame focused. Every instinct within her told her to run from the advancing predator behind her, but if she did, these men would surely die.

"You can heal them both, even so gravely injured?" the quiet voice inquired curiously.

She didn't answer, instead concentrating fully on the energy she wielded. The dome of transparent orange pulsed faintly. She could perceive him coming nearer all the while.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Every movement he made towards her amplified the strain on her willpower. Orihime could feel his presence beside her, his spiritual pressure reaching out at her, intentionally distracting. The solidity and sharpness of it made her think of tempered steel. It was arctic, threatening to crush every last ounce of strength she possessed underneath its icy weight.

Like Ichigo's that day.

"Aizen-sama is interested in your abilities," the Arrancar explained, putting careful emphasis on the honorific. By now her head was pounding, every word he breathed branded into her thoughts. "He has bidden me to retrieve you."

Orihime said nothing, did not move. She would have questioned this, but the strain of keeping up the shield coupled with the weight of reiatsu over her emptied her mind entirely. It was as though with these words, he had wiped all speculation away.

"You will come, or your friends will die." He said it as a computer would, neither anger nor regret in his tone, merely expressing two routes in a single pathway.

Her pathway.

Orihime spun on her heel, her concentration failing at last. The once strong bright shield flickered dangerously around the fallen men, and before she could bolster it again, it blinked and faded out of existence. She glared angrily at the expressionless face, the eyes that would not move. He was a barrier she could not cross. And yet, she told herself she would not go without a fight. Whatever Aizen had in mind for her, she would not obey in the end.

But everyone will be in danger if I don't go...

"There are no other options," he said, as if responding to her thoughts. "You will not say a word. You will go to Hueco Mundo without complaint." As if by a fleeting thought of his, four windows appeared in the space behind him, every frame showing someone she cared for in a silent struggle. Each face that passed before her eyes was another snare caught at her heel. He was threatening her with their lives—and he knew that she would comply, for their safety was as important to her as her own. The last time he had seen her, she had proven that much to him. Ulquiorra Schiffer did not forget, and Aizen-sama did not misinterpret.

It had all been meticulously planned, and they had all fallen for it. She had no choice… and he knew it.

From somewhere in her memory, the voice of Toshiro told her of the three classes of Menos Grande. The Vasto Lordes were supposedly the most human. The most cunning. The least beast-like.

He isn't human.

No human would ever speak like that. There was nothing in the tone of voice with which to relate. It was as though something else spoke through a human mouthpiece. Inwardly, Orihime grimaced. The idea was revolting.

He was a monster.

"I will not say it again," he murmured, oblivious to her thoughts, or perhaps not. "Come with me, woman." Orihime sensed that her would-be guardians were well enough now to be left alone. They lay as they had fallen; blissfully unaware of the imminent danger they were in while the green-eyed Arrancar was present. Perhaps, Orihime prayed, they would tell someone—anyone—what had become of her. With that optimistic thought in mind, she followed her captor into the void he drew with his hands.

Chapter 1 completed! No flames please, and I don't own Bleach. Although I love the characters.

Please review! So I know if I should continue or not. Keep in mind that everything isn't exactly the same as it is in the anime/manga. And it's sure to deviate more in the future.

The snippet at the beginning's from Mirror Mirror by Blind Guardian—I luffles that song…