Author's Note: Sorry this is so late! I hope that you enjoy!

The arrival of newcomers was taken very seriously at Seireitei. Ichigo stood back and watched as Urahara communicated with the gatekeepers over his walkie talkie. What they were talking about, he didn't care. His heart was weary from travel and anxiety. He was ready to sleep, and planned on doing so for a long, long time.

The sound of hoofbeats tore him out of his daydreaming. He looked up and watched as the gatekeeper opened the gate, releasing a line of men and women on horseback. Orihime's eyes lit up- what teenaged girl didn't love seeing horses? Ichigo held his breath. Being on horseback gave them an advantage that he wasn't comfortable with letting them have so easily.

Urahara touched Ichigo's shoulder.

"May I introduce our so-called welcome committee. This is Binx," he began, pointing at a dark-skinned woman as she dismounted the black Arabian horse she rode. She was cat-like in appearance, with vibrant purple hair and delicate almond-shaped eyes. She was dressed for movement, Ichigo noted. Though there was a slight chill in the air, the woman wore a sleeveless black tank top and spandex pants tucked into her steel-toed boots. Intimidation rolled off of her.

"I'm the one he was talking to," the woman explained, a hand on her hip. "Yoruichi Shihouin. It's a pleasure, I suppose." She looked them over one by one, staring into their souls. Finally, she dropped her horse's reins, expecting her to stand still.

"And here we have White Mage, our medical director." Urahara focused their attention on a sweet looking woman on a bay Quarter Horse. She looked like a doctor. Her black hair was braided in front of her shoulders, and a smile seemed at home on her face.

The woman rode close before dismounting, handing the reins to Urahara. "It's good to see young faces. I'm afraid that's a rare sight around here." She smiled. "I'm Dr. Unohana. When your introductions are complete, I will take each of you to the medical building for a complete checkup. It's just a precaution."

Understandable. They hadn't eaten well. Hell, they'd gone days without food, and lived off of little water. None of them were looking particularly healthy, especially Uryuu. Always the fucking hero, the boy had been giving much of his share to the girls. Though Ichigo's ribs were readily visible, Uryuu looked like his ribs could slice meat. His face was sunken, and he looked as if remaining conscious was enough work for him.

"Here at Seireitei, we have a little bit of a so-called 'buddy system,'" Urahara began. "And that's because humans are dangerous at the best of times. So we'll send someone to interview you and match you with a buddy. They'll answer questions, help you out, and make sure that you're stable enough to stay," he said, voice calm and even.

Rukia looked around a bit. "If I may ask a question- why the nicknames?"

Yoruichi shrugged. "Familiarity. A radio handle in case we have two Joeys. Badassery."

Fair enough.

Without having to be prompted, Ichigo and the rest of the group followed the others up the hill. Unohana had remounted, and rode ahead, but Yoruichi brought up the rear, leading her horse by the cheekpiece of her bridle. There was a reason, Ichigo was sure, but he didn't quite care to ask.

"Why use horses? ATVs would be faster on this terrain," Rukia asked, turning toward Urahara. He shrugged.

"Ah, but those things aren't quiet. These also don't drain fossil fuels." He pat Unohana's horse's neck. "We can grow grass. It's slightly more difficult to grow gasoline," he chirped. "Besides, the virus doesn't attach to animals easily. Well, except for the monkey incident."

"Monkey incident?" Chad asked, brow raised.

"...Let's not make me relive that day, shall we?"

Their conversation was cut off by a surprised yell from Yoruichi, and the flash of black as her panicked horse hauled it back to the gate at a full gallop. Unohana was able to stay on as her own mount jigged nervously, crowhopping as his buddy ran past.

"The fuck was that?" Urahara asked sternly, turning back.

Oh. Fuck.

"Pussycat's back," Yoruichi deadpanned. Urahara groaned and hid his head in his hands.

"Ichigo. Whatever you do, do not panic," he said slowly, soothingly. "Just keep walking, and don't engage him."

That wasn't the way to keep someone calm. In fact, it had the opposite effect. Instead of obediently keeping his eyes in front of him, like the rest of the Karakura kids, Ichigo turned almost immediately, and the unadulterated fear flooded over his face.

What was approaching could not possibly be human. He walked with too much swagger to be dead, but Ichigo didn't want to ponder what kind of life could be fueling those wild eyes. It was interesting, in Ichigo's mind, that, of all the things wrong with the walking trainwreck fast approaching, he focused on his eyes.

His hair was an alarming shade of blue. His face was contorted into a sadistic grin, half-hidden by the disembodied jaw of another human being glued onto his chin. He dressed like some kind of soldier, covered in blood. The left sleeve was torn off, revealing that he'd somehow lost the limb. In its stead, he had crudely taped a goddamn hunting knife to the end of the stump. A katana was fastened to his waist, and in his good hand, he held a rusted chain.

On the other end of the chain walked a zombie, its mouth beaten past recognition and its arms crudely cut off at the elbow.

And Ichigo panicked.

"You asshole," he roared, turning toward Urahara. Catching the man off guard, he pushed him to the ground. "You're a fucking group of cannibals. Fuck you, we're leaving," he snarled.

"Not advisable," Yoruichi stated, voice low and tone undetectable. "It's far too dangerous out there to let you leave. Go past the red paint, and you'll be walker bait."

"We were just fine before we came here," Rukia retorted. Chad hushed her. Urahara rose to his feet and took Ichigo by the hand.

"Ichigo. Calm down. Nobody plans on eating you. They'd eat me first- I'm much fatter," he stated playfully.

To be honest, it wasn't Urahara that Ichigo was worried about. It was the fucking serial killer inching closer and closer. Urahara picked up easily on Ichigo's anxiety without needing to be told. Casually, he approached the blue-haired bastard, one hand on his hip.

"You know to drop your pets once you hit the red paint, Pussycat," he scolded. The crazy-looking motherfucker sighed and turned toward the mutilated zombie.

"But this one is so good," he complained loudly. His accent was strong- Rukia recognized it immediately as French Canadian. "Look at him wait so patiently."

The zombie took a step toward Uryuu, and that was all that it took. With no warning, Uryuu lifted his bow, loaded an arrow, and released it right into the corpse's skull.

"The fuck?" the man asked, an offended look on his face. "What if I wanted to save that for later?" He brought his face mere inches from Uryuu's, who merely grimaced at the smell.

"Disengage and go inside, Grimmjow," Yoruichi commanded.

Grimmjow stepped back, lip raised in a snarl. "Che. Besides.." He caught sight of Orihime and stepped closer, head cocked in interest. "This one's so much prettier, isn't she?"

"I'll go get The Warden," she warned. Grimmjow sighed, digging his toe in the dirt, and pushed past Uryuu before meandering up to the gate.

"Fuck you, too, Yoruichi."

When they arrived at the gate, Yoruichi's horse was waiting for them, as well as a couple of men who seemed to be serving as guards. One was feminine in appearance, black hair cropped short, though one long strand of braided hair fell to his collarbone. His gaze was intense as he watched the group enter the campus, and he turned to his companion.

"Why, look, Jenny. Perhaps they'll send you some of them to help lessen your workload?" His head lolled back playfully. "Eat another Twinkie and you won't be quick enough to roll yourself out of a bad situation."

The other man was far less pretentious-looking, and just gave off the 'I'm a douchebag' feeling. His hair was long and red, worn in tight dreadlocks and tied back and out of the way. His face, as well as much of his body, seemed to be covered in strange, tribal-like tattoos. Pointing his Twinkie dramatically at his companion, he said only "Shut your whore mouth," in an artificially thick Brooklyn accent.

Yoruichi looked less than amused. "Everyone, meet Magpie and Jenny from the Block. They're embarrassments," she shrugged.

The black-haired one, Magpie, looked offended. The red-head just took a bite of his sugary treat. "Yeah. But we're hot, so you keep us around."

Yoruichi slapped his chin. "We keep you around because you're fast and Magpie'll peck someone's eyes out. Oh. Renji, call The Last Unicorn to Squad Four. I told him he could have first pick of them."

The more she spoke, the more Ichigo really felt that they were going to be eaten.

"Are you going to clue us in on your lingo?" he asked lowly. Urahara shrugged.

"There's not much to know. There are thirteen 'squads,'" he explained, complete with air quotes. "But you'll learn more. I'm sure Fifth will send someone to give you the run-down. I think Momo made pamphlets."

At that point, all Ichigo wanted was to lie down.

The first thing that the medical team did was a very, very thorough exam for bites. Ichigo heard Rukia scream "Why would I have a zombie bite down there?" At that point, most of them had been so desensitized to human bodies that it made no difference as to where people poked and prodded. Rukia, however, still had some fight in her.

Ichigo watched as, one by one, the medical staff fixed the Karakura survivors up with IVs and banana bags, the latter to manage the terrible electrolyte imbalance they were all suffering. While they rested and took in the fluids, a kind nurse brought four trays of food- chicken noodle soup, wheat bread, and a cookie, plus a glass of milk.

"Wait. Hey, why doesn't he get anything?" Ichigo asked, sitting up on his cot and pointing at Uryuu. Unohana simply smiled as she prepared a mild protein drink made mostly of water, peanut powder, oil, and powdered milk.

"His body is too weak to handle too much food. He'll be staying here until he's stronger," she said, placing the shake by Uryuu's bed. The boy had fallen asleep in the time it had taken her to mix the drink, and she didn't feel that it was necessary to wake him.

"...Is he the worst you've seen?" he asked, watching Uryuu huddle under the thin wool blanket he'd been given.

Unohana smiled. "No. He's weak, and he'll need to stay here for a few days, but he's not the worst we've had walk out of here." She smoothed her hand over his hair. "Oh, speak of the devil, and he will come."

From the large window of the clinic, Ichigo saw a body gracefully dismount a horse and hand the reins off to a bystander. He stepped inside, flanked by that cocky redhead, and the once bustling room went silent.

Ice would shatter in the presence of this man's stare. He was no taller than Ichigo himself, but the length of his legs gave the illusion of extra inches. Black hair fell to his shoulders, straight and silky enough to suggest that Urahara had been right about the availability of showers. He wore a grey peacoat and black pants, complete with leather boots. Who knew that it was worth it to dress up during the zombie apocalypse? Ichigo felt underdressed. Was he even wearing underwear?

"Look and see him, how he sparkles. It's the last unicorn," Urahara sang, breaking the tense air.

Ichigo didn't know what he had expected this oddly well-groomed stranger to say. But in an odd twist of events, it was Rukia who was the first to make noise. The room was filled with the sounds of what seemed to be panic. She'd risen from her bed, pushed away her tray, and had launched herself at this new visitor. Urahara intercepted her, holding her tiny body around the waist and urging her to be still.

"Let go of me!" she screeched, kicking and clawing.

"Do as she says."

The man's voice made Ichigo weak. Urahara obeyed, rubbing his injured belly. Rukia stumbled forward, practically falling into the stranger's arms.

"Wha-?" Ichigo began, motioning at the display in front of him. Urahara put his hand on his shoulder.

"C'mon. Let's get you into the shower," he said softly, leading the redhead to the back.

In Chad's mind, there was no pleasure, no rapture, no exquisite sin greater than hot water. The water ran black for minutes straight. He could hear Orihime's laughter, and relieved sighs from Ichigo. After all, a mere rubber curtain separated each of them. Quarters were close, but entirely welcome.

Fresh clothes had been placed out for them. The clean cloth felt like heaven on their element-toughened skin. Chad watched as Rukia, who'd joined after a few minutes, helped Orihime braid her hair and pin it up. He watched as Ichigo looked off into the distance, watching as a nurse took on the arduous task of hand-bathing Uryuu.

"Told you there'd be showers," Urahara grinned, giving the teenagers a wink. "C'mon. We've got a little party to go to."

It wasn't a party. It was more like a cattle auction. They were taken to an old, small classroom. The seats were staggered like a lecture hall. Four chairs were lined up at the front. Ichigo's eyes narrowed as they were brought in and asked to take a seat. The classroom wasn't entirely full, but there were plenty of people in attendance. Some were recognizable, most weren't.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen," Urahara started, taking his place at the front of the room. "We have five newcomers to our lovely compound, etcetera, etcetera. You know how this works, kids." He gestured to Ichigo.

"This is Ichigo Kurosaki. He's seventeen. Skills inclu-"

"Wait, wait." Rukia interrupted. "Is this a dating show, a livestock auction, or something even more freaky? I just wanna make sure we're all on the same page," she stated, hands up in surrender.

Urahara chuckled. "Excuse my impatience. We've done this so often that I've forgotten what it's like to be the one in the front of the room. Who cares to clue them in? I can't do all the work here."

The man who stood was kind-looking, smile marked by crow's feet and the beginnings of wrinkles. His hair was long and white, and somehow off-set his scholarly appearance.

"We hold this meeting to assign you to a certain squad. Basically, that determines how you'll help out here. You'll also be assigned a bedroom and roommates."

That seemed to satisfy Rukia, who sat back and crossed her legs. "As long as nobody's trying to breed me."

Urahara turned back to the crowd with a slight grimace. "Thank you, Ukitake. Anyway. We have Ichigo Kurosaki. Seventeen. Uhh.. skills include keeping relatively sane and healthy through a damn zombie apocalypse for the better part of a year. You led the group, right, kiddo?" he asked.

Ichigo shrugged. It was clear that he was uncomfortable, but he wasn't the one in power. He was too tired to fight so many people if shit hit the fan. The apocalypse had taken so much out of his hands. He was insignificant; along for the ride. So he clenched his jaw and his fists, and unwillingly placed his trust in the council's hands.

"Six puts in a bid."

So it was an auction. It had been the man they'd met in the clinic- The Last Unicorn, they'd called him, right?

"Interesting. Anyone else counter Byakuya's bid?"

Silence. Urahara moved to open his mouth.

They were interrupted by the loud opening of the door, the handle slamming into the drywall. All eyes were on the entryway, some men standing in attention.

"Attaquons l´exercice pour défaire les Huns. M´ont ils donné leur fils? Je n´en vois pas un,"

Most of them relaxed, some even rubbing their heads in annoyance, once they realized who it was.

"How kind of you to join us, Grimmjow," Urahara deadpanned. Ichigo tensed.

It was the maniac from before. But.. he didn't look half as maniacal. He'd washed the blood off of his hands. His hair was clean and comically fluffy. The only word that came to mind when he saw the denim jacket he wore, missing arm tied off, was 'mom-ish.' There were no cadaver bits affixed to his body- at least, none where Ichigo cared to see.

"Grimmjow, do you care to put in a bid for Ichigo on behalf of the Tenth Squad?"

Grimmjow looked like a deer caught in headlights. "...Which one's that?" Urahara pointed.

"Fuck no," Grimmjow spat, crossing his.. stump.. under his arm. "Tenth ain't need no trainee fucking us up." He took a seat toward the back. Ichigo sneered in response, but said nothing.

A young man, short of stature and youthful of face stood. His hair was deceptively white, his expression starkly angry. "Grimmjow. Settle down." The room went quiet. Grimmjow didn't even hold his gaze.

"Yes sir, mister Warden, sir."

Urahara rubbed his face. "Let's get this done without any more interruptions, shall we? I'm hungry. Who seconds Ichigo's induction into the Sixth Squad?"

A few hands raised.

"Sweet. Ichigo, go sit with Jenny From the Block and The Last Unicorn."

Awkwardly, Ichigo made his way over to where Byakuya and his underling, Renji, sat.

The rest of the meeting went fairly smoothly. Ichigo had to restrain himself from crawling over rows of seats and desks and strangling Grimmjow, who kept flicking wads of paper at him. Was this high school? Chad was placed in the Seventh Squad, though Eighth had put in a bid, as well. Rukia had been snatched up by Ukitake, much to the council's surprise. They seemed to think that Byakuya would want her on his team, judging by their earlier display.

When Orihime was up, Ichigo could see the skepticism in everyone's eyes.

"Hey, red! Catch!" Grimmjow was quick to speak and quick to throw. Orihime didn't even have time to respond before a wad of paper hit her square in the nose.

"Four!" he called, one hand cupped around his mouth. The others agreed.

"We still have the issue of the sick one," Urahara stated. "Uryuu Ishida is seventeen, fluent in German, and an excellent marksman, as Grimmjow can attest to."

"Guy's a fuckface!" he snarled.

"But he hit that zombie from point blank range with a moment's notice. He's good with that bow, and you fucking know it," Ichigo snarled.

"Aw, did I insult your boyfriend?" Grimmjow countered in sing-song.

"No-"

"Now, now. I think this means we got an interestin' soul on our 'lil hands." The accent made Ichigo grimace. It was as hot and sticky as the south, and came from one of the more unsettling-looking men in the group. Eyes closed- or barely open- the silver-haired interjector seemed to stare into his soul nonetheless.

"Three wants 'im."

"Absolutely not." Byakuya interrupted. "That would be a waste of a good marksman, Gin, and you know it. Six places a bid."

A laugh. "You people have no sense of priority. Eleven." The vote came from Magpie, and was seconded by Grimmjow's keeper.

"Well, it's settled, then," Urahara stated, cracking his knuckles. "We begin at sunrise. Keep your minds open, and be ready."

"...That's what she said."

"Shut up, Grimmjow."