Author's note: Well, that was a bit of a schedule slip, wasn't it? My sincerest apologies to all the readers who enjoy this story and look forward to more of it, and my humblest thanks to everyone who has continued to encourage me by adding the story to his or her alerts or favorites list even during the dry spell. The pace should begin picking up within the next chapter or two; in the meantime, please continue to enjoy the peace and quiet... while it lasts. *evil chuckle*

Disclaimer: Bleach was created by Tite Kubo and is published in Shonen Jump. Studio Pierrot is responsible for the anime adaptation, and Viz Media for the official English release. No copyright infringement is intended or should be inferred.


Chapter 9

The woman looked up at Urahara in a mixture of thankfulness and wonder. The gratitude didn't surprise Ulquiorra, though he couldn't say he understood such a thing, but the wonder did. If Ulquiorra were going to fight against Kurosaki or the Visored, he would need to leave his gigai, at least temporarily, and resume his Arrancar form. If the shopkeeper, who after all had volunteered to take responsibility for Ulquiorra during his time in the human world, planned to allow such a thing, he would naturally want to oversee the results.

"Urahara-san... are you saying you want to train Ulquiorra-kun?" she asked. He grinned down at her.

"I'd say it's more like supervising. After all, Soul Society probably wouldn't look kindly on a Shinigami training an Arrancar, even if they are both..." he glanced in Ulquiorra's direction, his eyes hidden by the brim of his hat, "...exiles."

"That's putting it mildly," Hitsugaya said flatly. "You're playing a dangerous game, Urahara."

"On the contrary," Urahara responded, his grin modulating into an enigmatic smile. "There's no game here – I'm as earnest as I've ever been." Hitsugaya scoffed, and Matsumoto hid a giggle behind her hand.

"And how many rice cakes will that buy?" she asked saucily, raising a skeptical eyebrow. Urahara chuckled, but didn't say anything.

Ulquiorra merely stared at Urahara. The shopkeeper was hiding more than his eyes, but he didn't seem like the kind who would be amenable to a direct approach. If Ulquiorra wanted to learn his secrets, he would simply have to bide his time and observe. That was fine with him; sooner or later, his eyes would see everything there was to see.

"Very well," he said at length. "May I get changed?"

Urahara laughed and waved his fan. "Of course, of course – just follow me!" Ulquiorra followed him out of the room, feeling two sets of suspicious eyes on him as he left. The Quincy and the boy captain, no doubt. He contemplated their thoroughgoing mistrust for him, and wondered again how the woman could possibly believe that he would ever be accepted either by humans or by Shinigami.


Orihime watched as Ulquiorra left, and then turned to her friends.

"Isn't this great?" she enthused. "Ulquiorra-kun will get to be with people just like him! There's so much they can show each other!"

Ishida adjusted his glasses with a grim look. "Perhaps. I think it would be generous to call that a best-case scenario."

Her face fell. "Ishida-kun... just now, didn't you and he have a moment when you understood each other?" The hard sharpness of his eyes transfixed her; she'd never seen him look so merciless.

"We shared a momentary embarrassment, nothing more. I am a Quincy, first and foremost. My people are sworn to destroy Hollows wherever we find them." His eyes softened slightly, and he looked away from her in mingled anger and regret. "I know you believe in him, and that nothing I can do will change your mind... but the only reason he's still alive is because he's too powerful for me to kill him."

"Ishida-kun..." A strange note entered her voice, one that Ishida had never heard in it before. It was partly despair, but overlaid on top of it was the determination to fight on in spite of all the things that conspired to crush her, even if that meant fighting the whole world. There were tears in her eyes, but her voice didn't waver. Ishida stared at her in wonder as he realized that, for the first time, Orihime sounded like a warrior. "You were there. Couldn't you feel it?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," he said cautiously. This newly-determined Orihime was someone whose capabilities he didn't know, and he had a sinking feeling that she might be able to push him a great distance along paths he would rather not travel.

"Hueco Mundo. It's bleak, and cold, and there's only desert, as far as the eye can see. It's always night there, and the moon never changes. It's a world full of souls who have lost everything, who are so drowned in despair that they never even imagine they might live differently. If they had just one person, one person in all the world who cared enough to reach out to them..." She bit her lower lip, and her voice wavered. "I'm not saying there aren't any monsters among them... but there are monsters among humans, too. Should we give up on ourselves because of them? Should we wipe ourselves out because of them?"

"Inoue-san," Ishida said firmly, "those are two completely different things. Hollows are creatures of instinct, nothing more. The lowest of them barely even count as conscious-"

"And what about the highest of them?" Orihime cried, her voice once again strong. "Ishida-kun, Ulquiorra-kun is the only person I've met – in any world – who's as smart as you."

"Urahara might have something to say about that," Hitsugaya remarked dryly, but Ishida looked away from Orihime in surprise and, blushing, coughed into his hand. Orihime smiled at that; Ishida-kun was always so self-conscious when she paid him compliments, though he didn't react that way when other people complimented him. She wondered why that was; maybe it had something to do with the Quincy code. They were kind of like manga superheroes, so maybe they were supposed to maintain secret identities. For that, they would need people not to praise them for their Quincy powers, so they could've set up a general rule against other people praising them for any reason, in order to avoid mentioning their powers as the reason for the prohibition. That secrecy was all the more important now that he was the last of the Quincies, and Orihime gasped at the thought that she might one day blow his cover where his arch-enemies could hear.

"Don't worry, Ishida-kun!" she blurted, her hands clenched before her in utterly earnest fists. "I swear I won't reveal your secret identity to any supervillains!" Silence greeted her proclamation, and she looked around to find Rangiku-san biting her lip, Toshiro-kun raising a skeptical eyebrow, and Ishida-kun, in a reversal of his usual self-control, staring at her in complete bafflement. She slapped her hands over her mouth and lowered them slowly, gaping at her friends in chagrin. "I did it again, didn't I?" she whispered. She tried so hard not to say things that only made sense in her own mind, but the trouble was that they did make sense in her own mind. How was she supposed to know when they would sound strange to other people?

Ishida regained his composure and coughed into his fist. "Anyway, your compassion is impressive, but it would take a great deal to convince me that it isn't misguided." He paused and shook his head. "No... the truth is, I don't think anything could convince me of that."

"Then you should come and watch him train!" Orihime insisted. "I don't understand it, but you and Kurosaki-kun both believe you can better understand someone through fighting. Whether you spar with him, or just watch him, maybe you'll... maybe you'll..." Maybe he would what? Embrace a Hollow? The very idea was absurd, and in spite of herself, Orihime could feel her resolve crumbling.

"Come to understand him like you do?" Ishida asked. Orihime gathered her resolve and nodded firmly. That was one of the reasons she admired Ishida-kun; apart from the times he got embarrassed around her, he was never at a loss for words. He didn't say anything, but the severe look in his eyes, mixed with a hint of apology, left no doubts about his lack of belief in that prospect.

"Understanding between a Quincy and a Hollow..." said a familiar voice from behind her. Orihime's face lit up as she turned to find her friend, the Shinigami Kuchiki Rukia, who had joined in the expedition to Hueco Mundo to rescue her. Behind her, filling the doorway, was her human friend Yasutora Sado, and though his eyes were hidden by his shaggy brown hair, as usual, she could see that he was smiling warmly. Although Sado had changed into a pair of light-brown slacks and a dark-green polo shirt, Rukia was still wearing her Shinigami robes. "I see Hueco Mundo hasn't damaged your optimism, Inoue," Rukia continued. Her smile was crooked, but her dark brown eyes were shining in genuine happiness.

"Kuchiki-san! Sado-kun!" Orihime rushed to embrace her friends. It didn't work, of course; it was hard enough for her to fit her arms around Sado's broad frame all by itself, and as small as Rukia was, even she was impossible for Orihime to include in a hug that also involved the largest of her friends. She settled for hugging Rukia and Sado in turn, and smiled broadly at them. "When did you get back?"

"Yesterday, the same time as Nii-sama and the rest who were in Hueco Mundo," Rukia answered, stepping back from the embrace. "He and Lieutenant Abarai are back in Soul Society now, dealing with the aftermath of yesterday's events." Orihime looked puzzled.

"Well... now that you mention it, I did feel you there, on the edge of the battlefield," she answered. "Why did you stay so far away?" Rukia's smile faded a little.

"Nii-sama told us to stay back – that it was a fight for captain-class Shinigami, and that anyone lower than that had no business being there. He wasn't pleased that we stayed as close as we did." Orihime wasn't surprised to hear that; Rukia's brother, Kuchiki Byakuya, believed more strongly in order and discipline than anyone Orihime had ever met – so strongly, in fact, that when Rukia first deputized Ichigo as a substitute Shinigami, and Soul Society decided that she should be executed for deciding such an important matter by herself, Byakuya had sworn to execute her with his own hands, if need be. Only later did Rukia, Orihime, and their friends learn that Byakuya, beyond his usual beliefs, had made a very specific promise years ago to his dead parents that he would never again break a law. Moreover, he had made a promise to his late wife that he would adopt her sister, Rukia, as his own sister, thereby raising her from a street-dwelling orphan to a member of one of Soul Society's great noble houses, and that he would protect her as though she were his own sister.

Normally, those two promises did not clash, and Rukia insisted that having to choose between the two had torn her brother apart. However, it still took Orihime a long time to forgive him, which she finally did only at Rukia's urging, and even then it wasn't complete forgiveness. Orihime couldn't help contrasting his behavior with that of her own elder brother, Sora. He took Orihime away from their alcoholic father and prostitute mother when Orihime was just three years old, and promised her that he would always take care of her. Even after he died, his attachment to her was strong enough that he couldn't move on peacefully to the afterlife, and became a Hollow because of it. Of course, Orihime never wanted that for him – she wanted him to be able to let go – but the love between them was strong enough that when Orihime appealed to it, Sora remembered himself and overcame his violent instincts long enough to allow Ichigo, who at that time had just recently been made a Shinigami, to perform the soul burial on him, cleansing him of his Hollow nature and allowing him to move on to Soul Society. Although Orihime had mostly forgiven Byakuya, the contrast between his willingness to sacrifice Rukia for his sake, and Sora's willingness to sacrifice himself for Orihime's sake, left a bad taste in her mouth whenever she thought about it.

"Well, Aizen and his followers are powerful," Orihime began, frowning in consternation, "but isn't that a reason for everyone to fight them?"

"On the contrary," Sado said, his smile disappearing. "We were nearly killed just by fighting Espadas. Trying to fight Aizen head-to-head would've been asking to get killed." He spoke in his usual quiet manner, but the somber tone of his voice left no room for argument, and Rukia nodded solemnly without taking her eyes off Orihime.

"Your friend is correct," said a voice from behind Sado, and he and Rukia turned to find Ulquiorra standing in the hallway, with Urahara on his left. He directed his attention toward Rukia and Sado. "For you, attacking Aizen would have been a mistake."

Orihime, who was used to seeing Urahara in eccentric clothing, was a little surprised to find that he had indeed provided an ordinary outfit for the former Espada. Although Orihime missed his Espada clothes, particularly the tailcoat-like top, which she thought looked quite elegant on him, she had to admit that the plain black T-shirt and the faded denim jeans suited him well. The only downside was that, since Urahara was about 180 centimeters and seventy kilograms, which made him roughly fifteen centimeters taller and fifteen kilograms heavier than Ulquiorra, the clothes didn't fit at all. Ulquiorra had done what he could by cinching a belt all the way and by rolling up his pantlegs, but there was nothing he could do about virtually swimming in the shirt, or the extra fabric that hung around his legs. Orihime had a sudden image of him in a second-hand store by himself, and, having no idea how to shop for clothes, choosing that outfit deliberately. She had to stifle a giggle and immediately felt embarrassed, wondering if anyone noticed, but their eyes were all on Ulquiorra. As uncomfortable as his clothes must have been, he stood as coolly as ever, with his hands in his pockets.

"I thought you said you defected because you believed Aizen would lose," Hitsugaya asked. It might've been wishful thinking on Orihime's part, but his voice held more curiosity, mixed with his usual grumpiness, than outright hostility. Maybe he really would try to back off – not that she doubted his word, of course, but from the hostility with which he had greeted Ulquiorra, she expected that he would be much more reluctant about easing up on him. From the corner of her eye, she saw Matsumoto trying rather unsuccessfully to hide a smile behind her hand, and realized that Hitsugaya's trust in his lieutenant must have been even greater than she imagined. Silently, Orihime thanked her friend again for going out on a limb for Ulquiorra's sake.

"I believe there are people on your side who are capable of matching him," he said without taking his eyes off Rukia. "You aren't among them."

"But that's not what you said," Orihime whispered, looking past Rukia. Her friends looked at her in surprise, and Rukia stepped aside as Ulquiorra's attention shifted away from her, focusing on Orihime as she focused on him.

"What did you say?" he asked quietly. His voice was neutral, but Orihime recognized it as a carefully composed neutrality, rather than the detached neutrality he usually possessed. He had heard her, she was certain of it, and what she said had hit a nerve. He wasn't asking because he wondered what she said; he wanted to hear her reasons for saying it. She looked at him imploringly, but with firmness as well.

"That's not what you said. Don't you remember, Ulquiorra-kun? You said that the heart would allow us to defeat Aizen." Her heart began to race as she sensed that the question they had stumbled onto was much more important than it seemed at first. "How could you forget something so important?"


Damn, Ulquiorra thought. How could I forget something so important? Of course the woman was right. On their own, her friends could hardly win against the weakest of the Espadas; fighting Lord Aizen would have been hopeless. If anything gave them a chance, it was the bonds between them that the woman referred to as the heart. That was his very reason for defecting... wasn't it? To better understand those bonds? Ulquiorra stared at the woman, and realized he didn't know. His blood flowed faster, his breath grew shallower, and for a moment, he felt as though he were back in the garganta, with the dizziness and terror of holding her hand as she walked closely – too closely, much too closely – beside him.

"Why are you asking such a pointless thing?" he asked coldly. Not the most elegant response, but Ulquiorra was pleased with it anyway when the woman looked thoroughly surprised. If his many fights had taught him one thing, it was never to let anyone keep him off-balance; that was a sure route to defeat. The easiest way to counteract such an unfavorable situation, of course, was to get one's opponent off-balance in turn. That said, he felt that gnawing sensation in his gut, which was becoming unsettlingly familiar, when the woman's surprise gave way to a sad frown. Why was he thinking of her as his opponent? Hadn't he acknowledged her as his superior because she was solidly on his side? Looking at her just made that gnawing worse, and before he even knew what he was doing, he found himself looking away.

"Ulquiorra-kun?" she asked, sorrow plain in her voice. She had no business making him feel so unlike himself, and he felt a flash of resentment toward her. However, that flash almost immediately vanished, leaving an exponentially more intense gnawing. What was that feeling? Regret? That was close, but not quite right: he had felt regret before, albeit rarely, and it was never so intense, nor so focused on a single person. Sooner or later, he would have to give that feeling a name. For the moment, all he knew was that it was unpleasant, and that it occurred whenever he hurt the woman, even if the wound was not physical. Perhaps, after he determined what that feeling was, he would be able to deal it more effectively ex post facto. For the time being, he would just have to be careful about not hurting her. At last he managed to collect himself to look at her again, and was relieved to see that her sorrow had visibly diminished, though she was still slightly frowning.

"A 'pointless question'?" Rukia asked, folding her arms coldly and pivoting so she could easily look back and forth between Ulquiorra and Orihime by turning her head. Her glare was fixed and unmerciful. "I'd say it's entirely relevant. It's not as though we've had waves of friendly Arrancars joining us."

"You suspect my reasons for defecting," Ulquiorra said. It wasn't a question, and Rukia didn't bother nodding. Ulquiorra wasn't offended; it was perfectly natural for a Shinigami to mistrust a Hollow. He would be disappointed in her if she didn't suspect him. "Then let me ask you this: why would a double agent give up so much of his power, when he could spy in secret without such disadvantages?"

"Psychological research," Rukia answered without pause. "That's easily the most important reason I can think of. The closer you get to your intended targets, the better you can understand them."

Ulquiorra looked at her silently for half a minute or so. "Very good," he said finally, glancing over her shoulder at Hitsugaya. "You're thinking like a captain." He focused back on Rukia. "But you're wrong. As I said, I came here because I want to understand the heart."

"Right," Rukia said, plainly not believing a word of it. "Working against you directly would undermine my orders, but I'll have my eye on you."

"Get in line," Hitsugaya interjected dryly. Ulquiorra simply looked at Sado. An ordinary human, by all appearances, but he was formidable enough that it took Nnoitra, the late Quinta Espada, to stop him, and he survived a direct hit from Nnoitra long enough for the Shinigami of the Fourth Division to heal him. What did he think about the matter?

"What about you? I've heard plenty of opinions from Shinigami, but the only human friend of hers I've heard from is the Quincy."

"I don't start trouble," the tall half-Mexican answered, calm and quiet as ever. He turned his head so that one eye was clearly visible to Ulquiorra, though the other was still hidden by his hair. "But I do my best to finish it."

"I see," Ulquiorra nodded. That was a fair response, and much friendlier than some he had received.

"What does he mean, 'I see'?" Matsumoto, looking annoyed, whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear. "That didn't explain anything!"

"It's like they're competing to see who can be the most laconic," Hitsugaya agreed, a large sweatdrop forming on his forehead.

"Well, now that that's settled, I believe you had some clothes to buy!" Urahara said brightly, waving away the objections. "And to that end," he said, retrieving a small, rectangular object from inside his coat and holding it up with a grin, "this ought to help." Ulquiorra had no idea what the object was, but the woman gasped when she saw it, and Matsumoto clapped her hands together, grinning hungrily.

"But that's..." she whispered.

"My credit card?" He chuckled for a moment before entering the room to stand before Orihime. He held the card out to her and spoke with an air of mock solemnity. "I am entrusting you with this in faith that you will use it wisely."

Ulquiorra leaned over to examine the object. It was a small piece of plastic with some numbers embossed on it, as well as the shopkeeper's name and an expiration date. "We will be able to acquire clothing with this?"

"That's right," Urahara grinned. "Just make sure you select revolving payment." Ulquiorra had no idea what he meant, but the woman seemed to understand, or at least understand enough to look troubled about it.

"But Urahara-san," she said, frowning up at the shopkeeper, "I've got money saved up-"

"And if you were buying clothes for yourself, I'd tell you to use it," he answered, and patted Ulquiorra on the shoulder with his free hand. "But as it is, I'll take it out of this guy's paycheck."

"Paycheck?" Ulquiorra asked, looking over and up at the shopkeeper, who was now standing on his right. He was intrigued enough that he didn't even think to shrug the man's hand off his shoulder.

"Well, someone told me recently that it would be a good idea to have an underling who can clean and organize the storage area," he responded jovially. "I don't know anyone who would do that for free, do you?"

"Are you asking me to serve you?" Ulquiorra asked, turning to face the shopkeeper head-on. Urahara laughed, looking surprised.

"We call it a job," he responded.

"I've heard of those. Humans work for money, and then trade it for things they need and want. It's a way of mediating their predatory impulses, of asserting power over each other without resorting to open violence." He paused. "Will this job decrease your desire to tear me apart?"

Urahara looked astonished, then doubled over laughing. When he recovered, he gasped, "That's one way to put it."

"And the money I receive will decrease other people's desire to tear me apart?"

"It never hurts," Urahara grinned wryly.

"Very well. I accept." Ulquiorra turned to Orihime to find her looking utterly astonished. He wasn't sure why; the questions he'd asked were perfectly reasonable. "This 'credit card'... it's a form of money?" Orihime snapped out of her stupefaction and nodded. "Good. Let's be off." Trawling through the shopkeeper's wardrobe had been annoying, and if that experience was any measure, Ulquiorra would prefer to finish this transaction, this "shopping," as soon as possible. How could humans tolerate having to choose their own garments? It seemed grossly inefficient. Shaking off these melancholy musings, Ulquiorra headed for the door, and turned back to find the woman had not moved. "Is there a problem?" he asked. His voice was colder than he intended, and he regretted it, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Um... could we go back to my place first? I'd like to change before we go shopping," she said, clasping her hands together. The former Espada relaxed.

"That's fine," Ulquiorra nodded. That request was reasonable; the woman had not changed clothes since yesterday. The woman smiled and came up to him, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her. He backed off, feeling uncomfortable with his proximity to her, and turned to the door. "Let's go," he said without waiting for a response, and heard the woman hurrying to keep up with him. It served her right; she had no business getting so close to him. As his acknowledged superior, she should have maintained a decorous distance from her subordinate.

"Ulquiorra-kun!" she called, catching up to him and grabbing hold of his arm.

Besides, he thought as she pressed in close on his left side, her scent was pleasant. It was also distracting, and he studiously avoided thinking about why such a thing might distract him. Whatever the reason, it wasn't something a Hollow had any business contemplating. He tried to move away from her, and found that he was already almost running into the wall to his right. Ulquiorra felt his forehead getting hot, as though he had one of those fevers to which humans were susceptible. Was this gigai capable of getting sick? He would have to ask Urahara about that later, but if so, there was nothing to be done for it now. He looked over at the woman to find her looking ahead and smiling softly, and as he felt his free arm brushing against the wall, while strands of her soft auburn hair tickled his captive arm, he wondered if this were her revenge for abducting her.

Well-played, woman. Well-played.