13. Reviewer Prompt #1

Being in a gigai was…odd. Of course, it wasn't a true gigai, just a rough simulacra whipped up by Szayel to mimic the false bodies used by shinigami, but the concept was the same. There was a reiatsu limiter somehow built in, hiding Starrk from the shinigami and allowing him to safely mingle with humans (at least for short periods of time). Using it, Starrk could seamlessly interact with the physical world and its inhabitants.

Supposedly.

That was the point of this whole, uncomfortable undertaking: to test a working gigai for arrancar that would stand up under use of even the most powerful hollow. Since Starrk WAS the most powerful arrancar in Aizen's army, the task naturally fell to him.

The body felt small and constricting, not to mention ill-fitting. His enormous amount of reiryoku was all crammed into this small physical shape and he felt like, at any moment, the thin skin would rip and release death on the unsuspecting humans. Szayel had seemed pleased; he'd run a scanner over Starrk's form and dubbed the gigai ready for a field trial, at least.

So here he was, meandering around some human city that wasn't Karakura (he hadn't bothered to learn the name) trying to look like he wasn't a ticking time bomb of death bound in flimsy faux skin. He had a vague idea that he looked completely unnatural, and that at least some of the stares he was getting were in response to his strange actions. Others were likely because of his appearance.

The gigai was attuned to his specific spiritual appearance, so at least he recognized the face he saw in mirrors and window reflections. He was still tall and lanky, shoulders hunched forward as if eternally bearing a heavy weight on his back. His face was angular, with a faded goatee and apathetic blue-grey eyes. Long, wavy brown hair framed his face and fell down over the top of his collar. That was where the physical similarities ended.

In the physical world, he couldn't wear his arrancar uniform for some reason. Instead, he was dressed in comfortable black jeans, a casual blue T-shirt, and an unbuttoned black sports jacket. The collar of the jacket was turned up, concealing his neck, including where his mask would attach if he were in spirit form. His shoes were also black, though he didn't notice much more than that, and there was a silver chain leading from his belt loop to a back pocket.

The clothes were just another strange necessity of interacting with humans, although Szayel had seemed inordinately pleased when he picked them and a few of the female arrancar had given him appraising glances.

To him, his appearance was nothing special. Sure, he was the most 'normal' looking of the arrancar, but that was no great feat (especially with individuals like Aaroniero and Yammy in the ranks) and it didn't mean much, considering how varied hollow anatomy could be. He didn't know, or really care, what he looked like beyond how his form affected his skills.

The humans did not seem to follow this convention.

Attention was something he was used to; he was generally the most feared creature in any situation, with weaker hollows cowering and groveling if not outright dying in his presence. Even Grimmjow and Nnoitra thought twice before pushing his buttons. However, these humans were outright staring; especially the females. But if he turned to look at them or ask what they wanted, they would hurry away or turn and giggle.

There had to be something wrong with his appearance; he'd speak with Szayel on the matter when he got back.

Still…maybe…

"Hello, handsome."

"Eh?"

Someone was touching him.

A female human was standing in front of him, smiling oddly and blinking a lot. Her hand was latched onto his arm with a surprisingly strong grip.

"Hello…?"

She was tiny, at least a foot shorter than him, with hair a deep purple-black that could only be dyed. The laugh lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth indicated she was a good three or four decades older than most of the humans involved in the war. Her face was decorated with the same paint and powder that all female humans seemed to adore, and her clothes…

He had no idea how to explain what she was wearing.

More of that odd blinking. Was she fluttering her eyelashes?

"…Is there something wrong with your eyes?"

She laughed; a deep, throaty purr that instantly put him on edge. It reminded him of Ggio's 'hunting' façade: the way he would act after cornering his prey, right before ripping its head off and eating it.

"And funny, too! What's your name, stranger?"

"…Starrk..."

"Ooh…Exotic. Well then, Starrk…" she looked up at him through her eyelashes. "Care to join this lonely single woman for a drink?"

She was coming closer. By now, he was thoroughly discomfited. People (other than Lilynette and sometimes Aizen) didn't purposely stay in his presence OR touch him. They just didn't.

He surreptitiously tried to pull his arm out of her hold, but it was rock-solid. There was no way he was getting free unless he dislocated or broke her arm and then he'd have to deal with the crying and general hysteria…it wasn't worth it.

"I would really rather…"

"Wonderful!" She turned away, tugging him behind her. He followed reluctantly. "I'm Aimi." No she wasn't; he could sense the lie. "And I know this wonderful little bar that's just a few blocks away!"

A bar? What was that?

"In fact, I think some of my girlfriends are meeting there tonight!"

He was fairly sure that feeling in his gut was 'impending doom'.

"Of course, if you could think of any other, more pleasurable activities…?" She winked flirtatiously and he stared in mild panic.

"I like sleeping, but I'd rather-."

"Really?" her purr this time was downright feral and the hand on his arm started wandering…was she feeling his bicep? "I could go with that…your bed or mine?"

Oh hell no.

"I think you should meet with your friends. I need to-."

"Oh, yes! They'll love you!" Her grip, if anything, got even tighter.

Forget the gigai; he'd be lucky to get out of this with his life.

The exact quote was: "I'd love to see how he reacts if some middle-aged woman from the World of the Living starts flirting with him…some sort of Jersey gossip queen catches him on a street and doesn't let him go". I'm not really sure what a 'Jersey gossip queen' is, or how to translate that into a Japanese setting (it didn't feel right to bring Starrk to the US), but I gave it my best shot!

Hope you like it, distraught . hallelujah! (Sorry the first half was so far off base)