Author's Note: I will be out of the country for two weeks now. Although I am going to be able to upload, I will not see any messages or reviews and will not be able to read and review back. I am a little behind on my reviews, so please bear with me. So many thanks to: Shadewolf7, Truantpony, ForbiddenME, Pinky357, Immortalvows, Chellythemadhatter, Insomniatic95 and Sallythedestroyerofworlds23 for sticking with me, reading and reviewing. Especially Truant and Sally for all the reviews. Thanks also to anyone who is reading on the quiet. Please do review, let me know you're out there. Now, on with the story...

The same story. Again.

The alleyway where they now stood ran between two abandoned tower blocks, which together left only a sliver of blue sky far above them. Flies and gnats hung in silken clouds that buzzed lazily through the shadows. To any watchful human eyes, Rukia would have seemed out of place: a lone schoolgirl, marching purposefully down the deserted lane only to stop at a dead end and turn on her heel with a scowl. She stalked back to the mouth of the alley and planted her hands on her hips.

She, of course, was seeing something else entirely.

Cowering at the base of a dumpster was the ghost of an overweight, moustachioed man. He was beside himself with terror: a fact which confirmed Rukia's darkest suspicions. A hollow had been here. And now it was gone. And that meant someone else had dispatched it.

Ichigo was trying to get information from the spirit, but without much success. The dead man, who might have been alone for days, months or even years before the arrival of the hollow, was clearly overwhelmed by their presence. Though he was wailing about the monster, his eyes betrayed a more immediate fear: of the man dressed in black now standing over him brandishing a sword as long as he was tall. Ichigo hadn't bothered to sheath the zanpakuto, but was resting it over his shoulders, barking questions at the unfortunate ghost. Reassurance, Rukia decided, did not come naturally to the human boy. He strutted over to her with an air of casual menace:

"You try."

The spirit seemed grateful that Ichigo was to be replaced by the school-girl. Before Rukia could manage so much as a tell-me-what-you-saw, he had reached out for her in desperation and she felt one cool, insubstantial hand close around her leg. "Hey!" snarled Ichigo. Stepping between them, he kicked away the spirit's hand and brought the pommel of his sword down onto its forehead. Rukia closed her eyes as the knonso took effect, but, even with them shut, she was still aware of the bright blue light that engulfed the unfortunate soul before it crossed over. When Ichigo spoke again, his voice was softer: "Let's go home, Rukia."

She followed him back to where they had sequestered his body. In such a deserted part of town, it was safe enough to stow it behind some bins. Unlike Ichigo, Rukia felt no sentimental attachment to a human body. Her partner, however, was only reluctantly coming to terms with seeing himself as a corpse. He screwed up his face as she dragged his lifeless figure into the road, then stepped forward, back into his skin. Rukia let go of it the moment it became animate and Ichigo doubled over, coughing, as his lungs began to breathe again: "I think there's something wrong with your phone," he said, between gasps.

"There's nothing wrong with it."

"It keeps telling us there are hollows when there are none!"

"Well, there's none here now" –

"Kurosaki Ichigo." They both looked up at the voice. A boy was standing before them. He was dressed in school uniform, grey trousers and a white shirt. Unlike Ichigo, though, his demeanour was one of elegance and care. His black hair hung on either side of his face, a symmetric frame for pale skin and black, bullet-like eyes. He was taller than Ichigo, but willowy, and he wore wire-framed glasses on the tip of his nose. He looked like the kind of student who would never start fights, would work long hours and still have time to do the chores. He looked like everything Ichigo was not and yet, despite this, there was both familiarity and contempt in his eyes: "You won't find any hollows here." Ichigo stared. "Oh yes, I know all about you, Kurosaki Ichigo. I know what Kuchiki Rukia is. I know she arrived here in April and transferred her powers to you. I make it my business to know."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Uryu Ishida and I'm a quincy."

All three of them turned as somewhere, close by, a hollow screamed. When Rukia looked back, Ishida's poise had changed. He reached out with one hand and light spread out from his palm. Not kido. No, she had never seen a technique like this. As she watched, it arced out of his palm and formed the shape of a long-bow between his hands. He squinted down the shaft of an arrow made of blue fire. And loosed it over their heads. Rukia followed its course through the heavy afternoon air. A hundred metres from where they stood, it struck a hollow that was taking flight.

The creature disintegrated. There was no cascade of blue light, no embers cast up from the attack. It simply disappeared, as if it had always been an illusion to begin with. Rukia shivered. Never had she seen a hollow dispatched by a weapon other than a zanpakuto and, for all those she had defeated, she had watched them cleansed by the bright blue light of the other world. Something was wrong. She was sure of that. "I'm a quincy," the boy said again: "And I hate soul reapers." And, with that, he turned his back on them.