CHAPTER 2: When In Rome, When At Home

The plane ride back to Boston was uneventful. Rome had been a wonderful experience, but Ulquiorra was ready to go back home. Not that the city had ever been home to him. He hadn't stepped foot in the city in six years.

He'd been gone for a total of twelve years.

Once he landed in potato land, Ulquiorra proceeded to make his way to the top of the school food chain, lording over a court of elite students. He did well in school, putting on that perfect face; that mask that showed everyone he was a good boy. He was overly polite to his peers and teachers. He was a model student. He was involved in activities and retreats. The teachers called him a natural leader. That was what he presented during school hours.

There was another side of him.

A dark and ugly side.

Once he moved to Idaho, the side of him that did terrible things did not go away. It got worse. There was no one to tether him. There was no Aizen to watch over him. There was no authority that could hurt him. He partied. He smoked. He drank. Ulquiorra coerced a couple of local girls into having sex with him. He got a tattoo, and his ear pierced.

Once he touched the soil in this backwater place, Ulquiorra had no choice but to think about Orihime Inoue and what he had done to her and her family. As much as he told himself that it wasn't his fault and pointed fingers at others, he blamed himself. There would be long stretches of night where he would stare up at the dark ceiling above his bed and think about her red hair. He would dream of her dark eyes and how with a look she could peer into someone's soul. He would ponder about that week that she lived with Aizen and his family that Ulquiorra would watch her from the shadows, gauging her; taking note of what made her tick.

It wasn't productive. It wasn't a problem. Orihime was living a nice cushy life in the midwest somewhere. That's all his mother would tell him.

"So how's Orihime doing?" he asked.

"Her new parents tell us she's doing well. She's recovering from your-"

Not this again. He would sigh and cut Retsu off. "Gotta go, phone time is over."

Eventually, he stopped calling, not wanting to interact with his family. He had other things to think about. College applications to fill out. Homework. Of course, there were school activities and Mass to attend. The private school's guidance counselor raised her eyebrows at what Ulquiorra wanted to study.

"Art History? Any reason why? You can't do much in the real world with a degree in-"

"That is none of your concern. What happens to me in the real world, as you put it, doesn't affect you."

"I'm just saying a degree in technology or business would be better."

"I plan on becoming a priest." All those restless nights had come down to this. This was his atonement for what he had done. He'd give up his life and snub Aizen. He couldn't be a goon for the mafia if he were a priest.

College dragged on for four fucking years. He had sex with another handful of women. He got a couple more tattoos. He got a second hole in his ear and his eyebrow pierced. His hair was longish, it hung to his shoulders and often hid the jewelry. Not that it mattered. He had applied to regular universities instead of those with religious ties. He had gotten accepted to several Ivy League schools but passed them up for the art history curriculum at the University of Illinois.

Ulquiorra's last year in college was when Aizen came to visit. He'd told his roommate to get the hell out for a couple of hours and Yammy refused until he saw Aizen's face

"My money paid for you to look at useless art all day?"

The green-eyed man sighed. "I will do just as well to get into a seminary with something dealing with humanities rather than a business degree. I will have an associates degree in accounting though."

"Seminary? What is the meaning of this?" Aizen asked.

He squared his shoulders back and looked at his father. They had never been eye to eye, and even now, Ulquiorra had to look up to him. "You don't want me being a threat. You don't want me taking things into my own hands. If I follow the word of God and the teachings of the Bible, I can't surpass you."

"You believe in that bullshit?" Aizen appeared as he could barely believe what he was being told. His tone was incredulous.

It was at that moment that Ulquiorra decided yes, he did believe. He believed in it because of people like his father saying they worshipped God and had faith but never acted like it. His father was a prime example. The killings, the treachery, and the other activities were sins. Aizen went to confession every week only to turn around and do the same things. The man wasn't remorseful in the slightest about what he did or whose life he ruined.

He nodded, but he decided to play his cards and present the idea of him becoming a priest as appealing to his father. "I think it could be useful," Ulquiorra said. All he needed was for the man to agree to it so that he could finish school and go on to a seminary. After that, he didn't need Aizen.

The brown-haired man was obviously thinking because he put his hand under his chin and stared out the window. "You owe me, Ulquiorra. You realize how bad you fucked me over years ago? If Ginjo had just killed that girl, I wouldn't have to shell out any money for her."

"I know, sir. I think about Orihime occasionally. I can't replace what I did to her life, but I can set myself on a path of least temptation so that no one else's life becomes shattered," he replied. "Think about the people who took her in though. She probably brought joy to them."

There was a scoff. "Are you soft for her? If she knew what you did, she would hate your guts, son. Tell me what else can this art history degree do?"

Six months later, Ulquiorra found himself closer to Orihime than ever. He just didn't know it. He'd applied to The Sacred Heart Seminary and School of Theology in Wisconsin. He liked the school, and it wasn't anywhere around the cesspool of Chicago.

He had to make changes in his life. Ulquiorra got rid of the eyebrow piercing, the only proof that it had ever been there were two little circular scars. He had two crosses in his ears, but no one saw them because he still kept his hair shaggy. He never allowed anyone to see him without a long-sleeved t-shirt on. He'd been stupid as a kid. The black four on his chest, the roses clustered on his bicep, the huge cross on his back that spanned from shoulder to shoulder and to the nape of his neck to the base of his spine; he would carry those reminders of his sins from the past.

Four years later, he went off to study in Rome. He was ordained in the city by another Bishop who knew his father rather well. The two of them grew up together, and Dordoni Alessandro Del Socaccio never could forget Sousuke Aizen. He spent two years in Rome.

He would have never left that city with its great history and beautiful buildings if his father hadn't demanded him to return.

Ulquiorra wasn't surprised as he walked out of the airport to see a plain black car waiting for him. He wasn't surprised to find himself dropped off at a townhouse in Boston. His father must have been on business if he wasn't at that big house in the suburbs.

"Welcome back, Ulquiorra."

On that day twelve years ago when Father Tosen dropped her off at the airport, and she set foot in cheese land, Orihime had never before dreamed about the life she ended up having. Her foster parents, Jack and Margaret Roherty, were great folks. Proud Irish-Americans. They picked her up in Milwaukee and drove her to their home in a rural town called, appropriately, Erin. They were very religious and often attended mass at the nearby Holy Hill Basilica, despite being members of St. Kilian's parish in the neighboring town, where she finished out elementary school.

Aizen had enrolled Orihime in the all-girls Catholic Notre Dame Middle School for the following year, making sure she was well provided for, not that the Rohertys were short on funds. Mr. Roherty was a retired estate planning attorney, and Mrs. Roherty was a retired school teacher. They had two grown children, one living out in Colorado and one in Ireland.

They were a bit obsessed with Ireland, Orihime quickly learned. The Rohertys were enamored with the prospect that this girl with the Japanese name and the red hair might share some of their heritage, and they decided to do one of those mail-order genetic tests. Orihime had to fill a vial with spit, which she thought was gross, and they mailed it away to some company who analyzed it. Several weeks later, a packet was delivered with the results. They Rohertys were overjoyed and self-satisfied to learn that Orihime's ancestors were, in fact, 50% from East Asia, specifically Japanese, and 50% from the British Isles, specifically Ireland.

The Rohertys were very much into promoting Orihime's ancestral heritage. They enrolled her in Japanese school on Saturdays for language and cultural activities until she aged out of it after eighth grade and entered Divine Saviors Holy Angels all-girls high school. They also had her join an Irish dance troupe and travel around to Irish heritage festivals and perform. She learned some of the language and a lot of the songs. Because she lived in Wisconsin, it was not a big deal for her to join the Rohetys in their evening nightcaps once she got into high school, and she developed an appreciation for whisky early. She didn't over-indulge until college though. She spent her weekends going to fish frys on Friday nights with the Rohertys, going to libraries, farmers markets, or playing golf on Saturdays, and in Church on Sundays.

She spoke with "Uncle Sousuke" often. Usually at least once every two months. She still saw him as a father figure and heaped gratitude on him every time they spoke. He would come to town and take her out to lunch or dinner whenever he would come to Milwaukee or Chicago on business. He seemed truly fond of her in return and often spoke to her of an inevitable return to Boston.

She was surprised that he seemed pleased when she told him she had decided to go to a private Catholic women's university in Milwaukee for religious studies. He had told her it was right up her alley and that he was proud of her devotion to her faith, and that when she graduated, he would personally guarantee that she would be welcomed onto the staff at Sacred Heart if she decided to return to Boston.

Orihime was religious. She wasn't interested in boys or popular culture like other girls her age, and even at her all-girls high school, the other girls obsessed about boys and found ways to meet them. The other girls her age didn't have recurring nightmares about the murder of their entire family though. Orihime turned to the church to provide her with the spiritual strength she needed to get through each day. She was a true believer.

Because of the strength, she found in God; she was able to grow into a relatively well-adjusted young woman. She liked winter and fall. She liked leather boots and big chunky sweaters. She had a thing for owls, and she held onto the books about winged ponies she had read in her younger years. Despite having it shoved down her throat, she really truly loved Irish folk music and to a lesser extent, Japanese folk music. She never really did become proficient at speaking Japanese, but she could still watch Japanese dramas, a guilty pleasure of hers, without subtitles. She loved her life.

When she went off to college, she joined the choir and the Asian students' group. It was there in her third year, during an Asian American Society mixer that she met a boy she grew fond of. He, like her, was half Japanese and had red hair. They would always end up pairing off during group activities to talk and joke around. Ichigo Kurosaki quickly fell head over heels in love with Orihime. She sadly and gently broke his heart when she declined his offer to enter a romantic relationship with him. She explained that she was not interested in dating and was happy being single and devoting her time to self-improvement and prayer.

She spent one last summer after graduation with the Rohertys. She worked at the cafe at Holy Hill. It was absolutely a breathtaking location, and she loved being there. Orihime was biding her time in the cafe until a more suitable position there opened up, maybe in the youth ministry or something. But then, that September, the call from Aizen came.

"Uncle Sousuke! How are you? I've missed you!"

"My dear, sweet, Orihime, I am quite well; never better. How are you?"

"I am alright. How is everything back home?"

It pleased Sousuke to no end that after all these years, she still referred to Boston as home. It meant his efforts and investment in her were proving worthy.

"Everything is great. In fact, the purpose of my call is that I've found a wonderful opportunity for you…"

After Orihime found the luggage with all her worldly possessions that hadn't been previously shipped on the baggage carousel at Logan International, she was surprised to see a tall, well-built, blue-haired man waiting in the baggage claim area with a board with her name written on it and a bouquet of mixed flowers.

She approached the vaguely familiar man and tilted her body to the side a bit and said, "I'm Orihime Inoue. You look familiar."

Grimmjow was bored as hell, picking his fingernails or at least trying to with his hands full when he looked up to see some tiny ass woman with huge tits standing near him. "Holy shit, you grew up," he said, looking her up and down.

Orihime took a half step back, scrunching her nose and looking uncomfortable. "Yes, I did. Did Uncle Sousuke send you?"

He nodded, his blue head of hair bobbing with the movement. Grimmjow wanted to snort. That man was her uncle as much as he was Grimmjow's dad. "Yeah, the old man sent me. Got your shit? Ready to go? Oh, these are for you," he said shoving the flowers towards her.

She took them and found his icy blue eyes with a look of amusement dancing in hers. "Are these from you, Mr….?" She trailed off, hoping he'd fill in his name.

"Grimmjow and no, do I look like the type to give bitches flowers?" he asked. Raising a hand, he motioned for her to follow him, ditching the sign with her name in the nearby trash can. "You gonna be working for Aizen?"

Orihime gasped at Grimmjow's language. "I am not a b—a b-word! And no, I'm not going to work for Uncle Sousuke. Are the flowers from him?"

He rolled his eyes. Ugh, this woman. Daddy Dearest had told him to be accommodating towards the redhead, so Grimmjow didn't elaborate on why she was a bitch. "Yeah, they're from him. A welcome home gift. It's a shame you won't be working for him. I'd spend every last penny I had for a night with you," he leered at her and then winked at Orihime.

She made a disgusted face, "No thank you." She followed him outside and to a black sedan when the memory hit her. "You! You're the one who bullied my brother back at Sacred Heart! Looks like you turned things around now, though, haven't you!" She smiled, pleased with his apparent rehabilitation. "Working with your father must be nice. He is such a kind and generous man," there was an honest to goodness starry-eyed look on her face when she spoke of Aizen. "You know, he set me up with my new job. Everything circles back to Sacred Heart," she laughed.

Turned things around? Ha! How as working for a Mafia Don turning things around? When Aizen said jump the only thing Grimmjow could do was ask how high. He shrugged instead of giving her a verbal reply. His head came up as he heard where she was working. "Sucks to be you," Grimmjow stated.

"Why would you say that, Grimmjow? I'm excited to return. The last time I was there was for my mother and brother's funeral. It feels like I'm going home."

"Home, eh? Well, I can just say that the new priest that arrived a couple of days ago does not share that sentiment," Grimmjow said pulling out into traffic. "You'll meet him soon enough though."

"Oh, did Bishop Tosen finally find someone to lead the parish? I'm glad to hear it. When I left, he was doing mass there himself. It's not appropriate for a bishop to do that kind of thing," she rambled as if Grimmjow cared.

He yawned as if trying to get the point across. "Don't know and don't really care. I don't have any dealings with the whole thing. I mean it's cool if you're into it, just don't shove it in my face, ya' know?"

"Alright, but if you ever want to talk about it the door is always open," she replied sweetly, smiling out the window.

He snorted with amusement. Grimmjow would only discuss it if it led to sex and since it probably wouldn't, he didn't even entertain an idea. Besides, fucking churchy girls was a boring activity. They wanted to talk about love and marriage and babies. "We'll be there soon, so relax and be quiet… or some shit."

She chuckled and then stayed quiet for the remainder of the ride. When they arrived at the rectory twenty-five minutes later, she didn't wait for Grimmjow to open the door for her, bounding out of the car and jumping to her feet before leaning back in a deep backbend. "Ugh… I have been sitting for too long," she complained, before standing up straight and walking over to the trunk of the car. "Mind popping the trunk for me, Grimm? I can take it from here."

Doing as she asked, Grimmjow popped the trunk. He was silently laughing at himself because he knew who was inside that house thing attached to the church. He rolled down the window and stuck his head out of it. "You sure, Princess? I could give you a hand."

"Well," she said in a strained voice as she hefted the heavy bag out of the trunk. "If you don't mind grabbing the flowers and getting the door for me, I'd appreciate it."

A grin came over his face as he turned the car off and pocketed the keys. He grabbed the flowers from the backseat and then helped her lift the bag out of the trunk. Grimmjow didn't grab it though. He set it down on the pavement. He walked ahead of her and knocked on the door of the rectory. "Hey Father," he shouted.

Orihime pulled her luggage to the door with a grin on her face. She heard a voice from inside shout, "It's open!" Her grin didn't fade much at the irritated tone of said voice. Grimmjow pushed the door open for her and let her enter first.

He handed her the bouquet again and gave a wave. As much as he wanted to witness the explosion about to happen, Grimmjow felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. "Good luck," he said as a goodbye.

"Thank you, Grimmjow!" she called after him. "And if you see Uncle Sousuke first tell him I said thank you for the flowers and for everything else!"

She closed the door and set the flowers on top of her luggage as she went to look around and try to find someone to show her around her new home. She had entered into a foyer with a door to her immediate left with a sign that said "OFFICE" and a set of old oak stairs just past that. There was a hallway leading back to a kitchen straight ahead. There appeared to be a powder room to the left before the kitchen under the stairs. To her right was a living room. She decided to go there first. It was empty, and she walked through it to a dining room. From there was another entrance to the kitchen.

"Hello? Father?" she said softly as she entered the kitchen. She heard a grunt from underneath the sink. She stepped forward to see a young-looking man there, his head and chest wedged into the cabinet. The man wore jeans and was shirtless. She took a long moment to appreciate the state of his straining abs and the muscles attached to his elbows as he worked a wrench. He must be a plumber or some kind of handyman, she thought. After she realized she had been staring, she cleared her throat. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but is anyone else here? I'm supposed to meet the pastor; I'm moving into the rectory today."

Apparently, when it came down to being a priest, it meant a lot of fixing stuff yourself. Tosen told him the only reason he allowed Ulquiorra to return to Sacred Heart was that the church needed money to repair the building and the school. Aizen was willing to make donations if they could help him out. That meant allowing his son to become a part of the Sacred Heart's operations.

This made the dark-haired priest scowl. If figured his father would somehow twist things to his whims.

Then he met Zommari, the priest under Tosen. That guy had a stick so far up his backside; he made Ulquiorra seem tame. The man was a fanatic when it came to religion, continually praying and correcting him; citing scripture and preparing for sermons.

He'd outlined exactly how Ulquiorra's day was going to go. He even handed him a print out of a schedule.

Day Off - Tuesday

5:30 am Wake up, morning routine, breakfast

6:30 am Holy Hour - Office of Readings and Morning Prayer from the Liturgy of the Hours

8:00 am Office work - catch up on e-mails and phone calls

Repairs that need to be done

10:30 am Hospital and nursing home visits

12:00 pm Lunch, Midday Prayer

1:00 pm Visit school classrooms, help with school dismissal

3:00 pm Office work - prepare for faith formation session, homily, meetings, Confession (SATURDAY)

4:00 pm Afternoon break - go back to rectory, have a cup of coffee, exercise

5:00 pm Evening Prayer

5:30 pm Dinner

7:00 pm Financal Council (3rd MONDAY of month), Pastoral Council (TUESDAY), Sacramental Preparation (WEDNESDAY), Bible Study (THURSDAY), Repairs needed to Rectory (FRIDAY)

10:00 pm Night Prayer and Retire for the night

He always exercised late at night or early in the morning. How could he exercise in the middle of the afternoon? Not to mention Zommari told him he would be in charge with cleaning up after Eucharist. Ulquiorra would also be dealing with confession. The black priest almost looked smug at that.

And he was the damn handyman to boot. It didn't matter to Zommari that he had studied and had been ordained in Rome or went to one of the best seminaries in the country. He was the lowest ranking member of staff and therefore had to make the necessary sacrifices to make sure everything ran properly.

So that's what he was doing now except his stupid brother had called out and Ulquiorra's head nearly hit the pipe that was leaking. He invited the man in by telling him it was open and he fully expected to hear his brother's voice except he didn't hear it. He heard a woman's voice. Ulquiorra nearly dropped the wrench on his face.

He wiggled his way out of the small space and sat up, looking at the person who disturbed him. "Uh, Father Zommari is out. I'm the only one here," he replied, setting the wrench down and wiping his hands on a rag.

"Oh, I'm sorry. This is bad timing. Um, do you work here often? Do you know if there is a better time for me to come back?" she asked tentatively, her face twisted into an apologetic expression.

Did he work here often? What kind of question was that? Ulquiorra hauled himself off the floor and turned around, his back now facing the woman. He grabbed his t-shirt that was laying on the counter and put it on again. He did not want to get it dirty with the leaking sink. Not that it mattered. His back had gotten filthy laying on the surface of the cabinet. No one had cleaned under there for a while, just chucked a new bucket underneath the leaking pipe. "Uh, I started here a couple of days ago," he said, facing her again, checking the clock on the wall. "I'm the new priest. Um, it's after ten? Zom-sorry, Father Zommari is probably at the hospital and won't be back until noon."

Orihime's eyes widened momentarily, and she mentally crossed herself. She had been lusting over the body of a priest?! Impossible! This man could not be a priest, could he? He had huge black tattoos everywhere! He was too young! He was way, way too hot. Oh God, she was doing it again! Oh, God! She mentally took the Lord's name in vain! She was going to hell for sure.

She shook her head. She had to get it together. She cleared her throat and smiled sweetly. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. Maybe you can tell me what to do with my things. I'm Orihime Inoue, and I'm moving into the rectory today. I've been hired as a housekeeper and basic parish helper-outer. It's nice to meet you, Father…." she paused for him to fill in the blank. There was something vaguely familiar about this young priest, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

His face had been rather impassive as she studied him. He was used to the quizzical looks and the appreciative stares, but he was oblivious, rather he ignored them and didn't care what people thought about him. Then she said her name and his eyes widened. What? How? He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, what did you say your name was again?" Ulquiorra asked.

Her smile brightened. "Orihime Inoue. And you are?"

"I'm-I'm-" he couldn't get his name out. The two occasions he had spoken to her, he had been harsh, and it stuck with him. Every time he thought about her it drove him to this purpose in life. That being said, he'd thrown a fit when his father told him of his new job opportunity. Had his father known about this? Was this part of his and Tosen's deal? "I'm Father Ulquiorra Cifer," he said finally.

She gasped, her face falling and a hand coming to her mouth. Her eyes searched his face and her nostrils flared as she tried to reconcile the face of the man she saw before her with her memory of the teenaged boy at her family's funeral. How could this be the same person? This man had a much different demeanor. The boy, Ulquiorra Cifer, would never have heard the Lord's call, would he? Would he? ...Maybe he would. The Lord worked in mysterious ways. His eyes were the same as her memories. That rare shade of shamrock green. One that would have made the Rohertys jealous. She grinned at that thought, and then mentally turned that grin on Ulquiorra. She stepped toward him and held out her hand. "Well, Father Cifer, I'm glad to be working with you. Where can I put my bags?"

He glanced at her hand and then at her face. Perhaps she had forgotten the incidents or was leaving the past behind her. Ulquiorra didn't know, so he held his hand out and grasped hers briefly. "Let me call Father Zommari, and I'll show you around. Have a seat at the table, and I'll be right back." He didn't give her a chance to protest, because Ulquiorra practically ran out of the room and down to the office, slamming the door shut.

Pulling the cell phone out of his pocket, he did not dial Zommari like he had told the woman. He dialed Aizen's number first. He had some words for his father, and they would be removed from his sins when he confessed, but right now they were boiling in his throat. Of course, his father did not answer. He almost snarled in rage but quickly calmed himself down. No one had told him about this. No one had warned him. He was probably the only priest in this damn building who-Why was he thinking about a woman that way?

Ulquiorra shook his head. This wasn't right. She was no one to him. Nothing. She was probably a person who needed guidance as they worked beside each other. After he cleared his head and prayed, the green-eyed man called the senior priest and told him of the situation.

"Her room is next to yours," Zommari said. "You're intruding on these people's time. I have a schedule to adhere to, Father Cifer."

Saying he was upset was quite an understatement. It took Ulquiorra five more minutes to calm down. He walked back into the kitchen and looked at the woman who sat at the table. "Miss Inoue, if you would please follow me. Leave your stuff where it is, and I'll show you around the rectory."

She bounced to her feet with another face-splitting grin and nodded. "Thank you! You know I spent so much time at the church and school as a child, but I've never been in the rectory before. This is exciting!"

He nodded his head. Until a couple of days ago he had been in that boat, so he knew the feeling but instead of being excited, he had felt nothing but dread as he stepped foot inside with his bags. He pointed out the mudroom just off the kitchen and the door to the garden. "There's a patio and a grill out there," he commented.

"Awesome! I love grilling! Maybe I'll make brats tonight. Do you like bratwurst, Father Cifer?" She asked. She said certain words in a funny way. Ulquiorra would be able to place it if he concentrated. He had gone to seminary in Wisconsin. He was familiar with the accent and the cultural differences.

He didn't reply, instead focusing on the task at hand. This was a test. That's all this was, simply a test of his faith and his dedication to his position. It was funny how he never questioned himself before, and now he was all over the place with his emotions. The two went through the bottom floor of the house with the tour ending at the staircase.

"I'll show you to your room, and then I'll retrieve your bag," Ulquiorra said.

"Oh! No, thank you, it's not necessary. I can handle it! It's heavy, but I'm stronger than I look," she said, smiling up at him in a determined fashion. "Are all Uncle Sousuke's boys so well-mannered?" she asked, grabbing the handle of her bag when they reached the bottom of the stairs.

Ulquiorra shrugged. "That depends, have you met Nnoitra yet?"

"Is that your older brother? I saw him at the funeral, but I never saw him at school; he was a lot older than me. I just turned twenty-three," she said with a slightly tight voice, hefting the bag up the steps one stair at a time. "What's he like?"

"He's been to prison twice," the priest stated, not bothering to look back at the redhead as they climbed the stairs. "He was expelled from military school. He's surprisingly three years older than me."

"Wow… wow." She blinked away that unpleasant thought. "So, I guess he hasn't seen the light as you have, has he, Father?"

Ulquiorra stopped on the landing and turned to peer at her. "No one in that family has seen the light," he stated with finality as if the subject of his siblings and family was a closed subject. He turned to the right and led her down the hall Zommari, and Tosen's rooms were at the other end of the house. It wouldn't be that way for long because Tosen was moving to Boston's city limits to lord over matters there.

He pointed to the door at the end of the hallway. "That's the bathroom. There's only one full bath but two half-baths. I've already shown you one; the other one is at the other end of the hallway." Ulquiorra gestured to the two doors they stood in front of. "This is your room," he said.

Orihime opened the door to a small room with a twin-size bed pushed into the corner and a window facing a large maple tree, there was a dresser, bookcase, closet, and side table but nothing else besides the boxes she had shipped ahead of her. "This is perfect, thank you."

"You're welcome," he said. Ulquiorra turned and started toward the kitchen again. "I'm going back to my tasks. Please make yourself at home. I'm sure Father Zommari will be along shortly to help you out."

Orihime called out to him as he started down the steps, "Hey, I was serious, Do you like brats?" She meant bratwurst.

"They're okay with peppers and onions," he said before disappearing down the stairs.

She shook her head and muttered to herself as she began unpacking, "What kind of heathen has brats with anything besides sauerkraut and horseradish?" She was truly disturbed.