Kurosaki was getting tired of this game of cat and mouse, even if he was the one playing the cat to the mysterious arrancar's mouse. The man had refused to confront him, which was vastly out of character for most of the beings from Hueco Mundo; instead he kept doing his best to give the substitute the slip. The young man could sense that he was one of the lower level arrancars, so the blonde must have been following someone's orders.
It was incredibly maddening.
Even worse were the black stealth helicopters he and others kept sighting over the city. The operators kept a low enough profile to keep any official reports from being filed, but the nighttime flights were unnerving to those unfortunate enough to spot them. Normal people would just brush it off and continue on with their lives, but for those in the know, each sighting brought a new knot into already uneasy stomachs.
At least he was sure the helicopters could see neither him nor the arrancars, as they never showed any sign of following after either being – so far, anyway. He wasn't entirely sure of what he'd do about it if the human armed forces made a move. They couldn't use their power against regular humans, and that's what these people were. Regular humans with big, nasty toys. The intentions behind the use of those big, nasty toys were likely just as big and nasty, although unknown. That added note of ignorance on their parts only added to the overall unease.
It felt like something out of a spy movie. When he was a child, like most boys, he'd often thought about how cool it would be to live in one of those movies. After his life turned upside down upon Rukia's appearance, however, he'd decided the whole spy experience was one he could live without. He had enough on his plate as it was. Who needs international espionage when you're trying to save the world every other day?
So, for now, he contented himself with herding the arrancar away from Urahara's shop and slaying the occasional Hollow, all the while keeping an eye out for the sporadic copter appearances.
At the moment, he was perched atop a utility pole, narrowed brown eyes scanning the lights below. There had been a lull in activity for the past few hours, and he was debating the merits of calling it a night. Rukia was back in the Soul Society with Renji, filling their reports and delivering the transcripts Ukitake had put together from his conversations with Meg.
The respected captain had filled them all in, and voiced his opinion that she could be trusted for the most part. That did jive with Ichigo's instincts, but they all knew she was still holding information back. It was probably because she was still so far out of her element. Or perhaps that she still didn't trust them fully. Or maybe she thought she was protecting them.
Well, they'll find out – hopefully sooner rather than later.
The young reaper had just knelt broodingly when a swell of reiatsu behind him caught his attention. He leapt just in time to avoid being swept off of his station by a ferocious whirlwind. Zangetsu found freedom in his hand, and he turned to face the two Hueco Mundo denizens.
The man had been joined by a friend, and apparently they were as tired of playing mouse as he was of cat.
"Where is she, Soul Reaper?" the blond man growled in a low tone, his hands held at his hands, hovering about eight feet away. His clothing was the same white jacket and hakama as when Ichigo had first seen him. The fabric whipped with his golden hair in the same wind that ripped at the reaper's hair and clothing.
At his side stood a woman, her brow and the top of her head covered by her bone-mask. Wild waves of lavender fell to her mid-back. Nearly translucent blue eyes glared from the shelter of the mask, and a petite mouth scowled at him. She reached the man's shoulder in height. Her katana was drawn and held lightly in her hand – the blade replaced by a riptide whirlwind of air. White clothing clung tightly to her curvy figure, flaring only when her sleeves reached mid-forearm.
"Where's who, blondie?" Ichigo called back, intense eyes narrowed.
The man bristled, "It's Rertyan Torkhan, kid." He drew his blade – it glowed red, as if fresh from the forge. "Don't play dumb with us. Where's the freak with wings?"
The berry grinned, and took his stance. "No clue what you're talkin' about, pal. Sounds like you and your girl are barking up the wrong tree. How about you try somewhere else?"
The woman tensed to charge, but stopped abruptly as Rertyan angled his sword in front of her. "No. My turn, Wendrok."
She growled lowly, but shied back as her partner flew at Ichigo. The reaper raised his blade to block, only to leap back at the sound of helicopter blades bearing down on them. Electricity arched their way from the copter's direction.
The three turned shocked stares to the machine ripping at the air. Arrancar scattered briefly, before a garganta swallowed them.
"Shit." Ichigo cursed and took off across the rooftops. This time, the copter followed him.
His hair stood on end as the electricity arced just a little to close. With another curse, he kicked in a flash-step and within moments, found himself street level, several blocks away. Wide brown eyes watched the copter circle once, twice, then lift into the night air.
"Damn." Unnerved, the warrior turned and bolted for Urahara's shop.
Not good. Not good at all.
* * *
Meg had been surprised when Ukitake and Urahara had both appeared upon her awakening to escort her from the desert. Her mind had been mulling over Kisuke's little test the day prior, as well as the following encounters with Ukitake. Truth be told, she was still in shock over the whole situation to a great degree, and even after what had to be close to a week of staying with these people, they still provided new things to surprise her.
This was a world so much different than what she'd known. It was disorienting, frightening, and oddly enough, it was starting to grow on her. That last part, in and of itself, worried her deeply. She held no illusions of being able to stay, and she was desperately afraid that if she didn't leave soon, they would be taken down when she was taken back, or even worse – they would be taken as well. Meg's biggest problem in this area, however, was how to take off with the least amount of damage. She found herself at a complete loss.
The two men had accompanied her up the strange black ladder suspended in the thin air of the desert, through the trapdoor into the stockroom filled with all sorts of things she found herself desperately trying not to identify, through a perfectly mundane hallway, and into the small bedroom she found herself standing in now.
It wasn't a particularly large room at all, but it held a sleeping matt similar to what was in the desert, a small, low table with a reading light, and a closet in one corner, as well as a pillow to kneel on. Meg found herself refolding her wings against her back and bemusedly rubbing the back of her neck as she looked around. She failed to notice the bewildered little smile which had settled upon her lips.
A throat cleared at the partially opened door behind her. With a blink, she looked over her shoulder, and smiled genuinely at the dark haired young man. "Uryu," she pushed the door open the rest of the way, and beckoned him in. The smile faded into a worried frown at the shadows under his eyes, not to mention the still pale complexion. "Not better?"
Initially, he'd returned her smile, and stepped in before shrugging and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his free hand. He shook his head, "Almost better. Worry not." He held the grey and blue clothing folded neatly in his hand out to her. "For you."
She paused, face gone blank briefly, before her brows creased, and her lips turned down in a slight, uncertain frown. Tentatively, she accepted the cloth. Dark eyes blinked, again before looking from the clothing to him again.
Perplexed, he watched her as she watched him. He motioned her to unfold them.
She did so, and found herself holding a pair of dark grey pants and a flowing blue v-neck top lined with the same grey as the pants. The shirt was gently fitted to the waist, where it gracefully transitioned into a billow of fabric – sweeping into a longer current in the back and a short flutter just over where her waistline would fall, sleeves were three quarter length. The back was modified to easily allow for her wings. "Oh, wow…" Her voice was very soft, but held a definite note of awe to it. Slowly, she rose her eyes to him again. "You made this?"
He nodded. "Yes. Do you like it?" His English was still heavily accented, and the words came slowly, but she could tell he had been working on it.
Meg wondered Ukitake or someone would be willing to teach some more Japanese. She had been picking words up here and there, but not nearly enough to understand or take part in conversations of any kind. Perhaps opening more lines of communication would be a good idea.
Silence again fell for a number of minutes as they contemplated each other, before she nodded, then bowed to him, as she had seen people do during her earlier hunting trips. "Ari…arigato…?" She was sure her own accent was horrible, and really hoped she'd used the right word. Her cringe of apology was embarrassingly evident to anyone who cared to look.
Ishida blinked, but nodded with a small smile which warmed those deep midnight eyes of his. He touched her shoulder and motioned her back up. "Hai. You are welcome." He paused. "Ah…" The young man then mimicked pulling a shirt on and pointed at her with a tilt of his head.
Meg watched him, slightly bewildered for a moment before straightening a little and nodding. Gently, she lay the garments on the mat, and her hands went to the tie of the top she was already wearing. The bow had already been pulled loose when she remembered modesty was far more important here than in the labs – especially when it came to the opposite gender. She gave Uryu a sheepish grin when she noticed the color spreading across his cheeks.
He cleared his throat again and quickly turned around.
With swift efficiency, she stripped free of what she was wearing, and carefully slipped on the gift. Of course, it fit perfectly, and complimented her figure in a way she was very unused to. She found herself more and more impressed with this fascinating man.
When her hand pressed to his shoulder, he turned to assess the garment. A grin lit upon his face as he circled her. He took the chance to pause behind her, and examine how the wings effected the flow of the fabric. He repressed another grin when he noticed the back of her neck visible between the neck of the shirt and her hair flush when he smoothed the fabric down her upper back on either side of her wings with the palms of his hands. Satisfied with how the piece turned out, and to no less of an extent her reaction, he allowed his hands to fall to his sides, and finished his circle. Upon facing her again, he nodded his approval.
Before anything else could be said, a polite knock sounded at the door. The both looked over, only to find Ururu standing there. The small girl's soulful eyes flickered between the two. She looked up to Ishida and murmured something in Japanese.
He frowned, nodded, and then turned to regard the winged woman with sober blue eyes. "Urahara and Ukitake need us. Something happened."
Meg's shoulders tensed subtly, but she nodded, and motioned for him to lead the way.
Binary date is binary! ...well, if you ignore the 2 in the year. So, rather almost binary date is almost binary. Easily amused? Me? Nah...
Anyway, hope everyone had a fun and safe new years! Thanks so much for reading, and as always, I look forward to feedback. Take care all, may your 2010 go wonderfully.