A/N: My sole New Year's Resolution: Write more. So... working on it. MASSIVE thanks are due to Iris, who has been Beta, idea-bouncing-wall, pseudo-therapist, and just about everything else a writer-in-crisis could ever need. This wouldn't have gotten written without her.
BONDS OF HONOR
Chapter 26: Unseen and Unexpected
The Hollow was a powerful one, barely more than human-sized and riding the edge of power between an Adjuchas and a Vasto Lorde.
One brown eye narrowed, intent as it sought the perfect center of the Hollow's snarling mask.
A single, deft movement of one lean hand, and the macabre smile vanished into swirling motes of light, torn apart by the stolen Quincy energy that had struck it.
Lowering his hand, Sousuke Aizen smiled.
"It happened again," were Uryuu's opening words, when Ichigo lifted his phone to his ear at twenty minutes past three in the morning. "A Hollow was eliminated with a Quincy power signature."
Stifling a groan, Ichigo rolled over in bed, flipping on the lamp as he did so and wincing as the light struck his eyes. He'd only been asleep for an hour or two, having been helping Uryuu and the others scour the city in a fruitless search for any trace of Ryuuken. "Do you need me out there?"
There was a pause on Uryuu's end, the Quincy's sharp breathing the only sound. In the stillness, Rukia's cool hand settled itself gently against Ichigo's shoulder, both a reassurance and a question, and Ichigo heard the soft murmur of Zangetsu's voice as the Zanpakutou spoke between themselves.
"No," Uryuu answered finally, his voice shaken but decisive. "There's nothing you can do at the moment, Kurosaki. Yoruichi is with Orihime and I, she will help us investigate. I'm sorry for waking you."
"Uryuu, if you need me -"
"I don't," came the ready response, but Ichigo could hear the quiet gratitude in his friend's voice. "Go back to sleep, Kurosaki. You have to work in the morning."
"It already is -" Ichigo was forced to pause as a yawn bulldozed its way out of his mouth, interrupting his sentence. "Already is morning," he finished with a grimace. "You sure you'll be all right?"
There was a muffled commotion and an indignant squawk on the other end of the phone, and Ichigo was already reaching for his Combat Badge when Yoruichi's voice came over the line.
"You sound like you don't trust me to take care of Uryuu-kun, Ichigo," came the teasing laugh, and Ichigo slumped back against his pillows with a sigh, letting his hand fall limply across his stomach.
"Yeah, well, cats don't have a great track record when it comes to trustworthiness," he teased back, but the joke was feeble at best, and punctuated by another forceful yawn.
"Go back to sleep, Ichigo," the Shihoin princess ordered him, her voice gentle. "I know it's hard for you to accept, but we can do things for ourselves, you realize."
Mustering an indelicate snort from somewhere between his yawns, Ichigo muttered a goodnight to his former trainer before hanging up.
Despite the passing of more than two decades and a change of proprietorship, the meeting room at the Urahara Shoten had changed very little. One could, with some effort, trace the history of the room by the marks left on the top of the low table sitting in its center - a shallow indentation in the wood at one edge where Ichigo's fist had once slammed down on it, a dozen tiny scrapes in the center from Urahara's countless pieces of equipment, a single long, thin scratch that might have been caused by the tip of an unsheathed Zanpakutou, an odd wavering stain from a mundane spill of miso soup.
"You're going to get splinters up your nose," Hirako Shinji commented, setting a cup of restorative tea down on the surface of the table, nearly on top of the wavering stain.
Ichimaru Gin, who was slumped over the table with his head buried in his folded arms, mumbled incoherently in reply, faint tremors of exhaustion still chasing their way across his shoulders.
"I kept meaning to have Tessai sand it down," Urahara remarked, not quite apologetically, from the opposite side of the table in question, his eyes never once leaving the holographic map projected in the air before him. "Ichigo, you said you felt no trace of any reiatsu in your designated area?"
"None." Ichigo, sitting in the far corner of the room, made that pronouncement with an irritated scowl. "There's nothing in that sector, not even a wandering ghost."
Grimacing faintly, Urahara manipulated the controls of the holographic map to shade Ichigo's section lightly blue. Over two-thirds of the map was already similarly tinted.
"Sooner or later, we're going to have to address the fact that Ryuuken may have been taken out of Karakura entirely," Tatsuki grumbled, only to receive a quelling glare from Kiego. Contrite but unwilling to apologize, she glanced warily at Uryuu, but the Quincy hadn't so much as batted an eye.
The entire Karakura Crew - with the additions of Shinji, Kensei, Yoruichi, Urahara, and Karin - had been patrolling the city in sectors since early that morning, scouring it for any trace of the absent Ryuuken. The holographic map was making the results of their search all-too-painfully clear.
An incoherent mumble from the surface of the table drew everyone's attention back to the center of the room, Shinji arching an eyebrow as he turned.
"What was that, Ichimaru?"
"I said, 'girl's gotta poin','" Gin answered irritably, lifting his head from the scarred wood. His hands trembled as he reached for the cup of tea Shinji had left him, his already-minimal strength nearly depleted by his hours-long participation in the search. Nights of screaming nightmares, showing him bare flashes of the torture Ryuuken was enduring, had raised the hope that he might be able to track down the elder Quincy's location, but to no avail. Karin - who'd been partnered with him, despite Ichigo's protests - had been forced to all-but-carry the former Shinigami back. "How long're we gonna keep chasin' our tails roun' th' city b'fore we expand th' search?"
"The Fifth, Sixth, and Ninth Divisions have all agreed to send in training squads to assist with the search, under the command of their Lieutenants," Urahara offered, grimacing faintly as a quiet shake of the head from Kensei had him shading another sector of the map the soft blue of a negative result.
"Which is precisely what we don't need, three dozen untrained Shinigami mucking up the reishi signatures around the city," Uryuu snapped, the thin leather gloves he wore squeaking in protest as his fists tightened almost beyond the limit of their seams.
"They will be searching beyond the city limits of Karakura town," Urahara countered, as the door slid open again, admitting a grim-faced Rukia, "therefore allowing us to search only areas that have been predetermined to - is that your phone, Rukia-san?"
Not bothering to hide her grimace, the woman spun around back out again, although not before her answering "What, Kaien?" was heard.
"Rukia-san will be assisting the other Lieutenants by taking charge of Byakuya-san's trainee officers," Urahara continued, his fingers flickering through the holographic display to expand and recolor the map, spreading an ice-white tint over a rough third of the area surrounding Karakura. The remaining two thirds were divided more-or-less equally under tints of lavender and green, respectively. "Ayasegawa-san and Minori-san will be -"
"Shit!"
The exclamation from the hallway was loud enough to turn heads, even before the sliding door was thrown open again, revealing the petite, purple-eyed fury clutching her cellphone to her chest.
"Ichigo!" Rukia snapped, her expression half a shade shy of frantic. "We told the kids to bring their dates to dinner tonight! Kaien's already back home, and the other two are on their way!"
"Shit," Ichigo agreed feelingly, already scrambling to his feet. "Guys, we've gotta -"
"Go, go, by all means. There's nothing more you can do tonight," Urahara answered, his tone dismissive. Ichigo replied with a single raised finger, but paused halfway to the door, a look of perplexity on his face.
"Does anyone remember where the hell I left my body?"
Out of breath, Ichigo shoved open the back door of the house, kicking his shoes off with barely a thought as to where they would land and nearly getting his slippers on the wrong feet in his haste. He'd found his body - stuffed unceremoniously in a closet at the Shoten along with a handful of Gigai - and been forced to rush back to his house the human way.
Rukia - who, like an intelligent individual, left her gigai at home, on the bed, where it wouldn't be full of muscle cramps when she reentered it - had returned home ahead of him, to greet their children and guests, while Ichigo made a poor showing of himself as a host.
Slipping silently through the door to the kitchen, he was immediately pinned under three gazes - Rukia's annoyed lavender, Kaien's laughing amber, and an unfamiliar pair of quiet, deep aqua.
"Nice of you to join us, Ichigo," Rukia said dryly, taking in her husband's flushed cheeks with a faint roll of her eyes. "Now that you've gotten yourself back together -"
"Dad, this is Miyuki, my girlfriend," Kaien interrupted, diplomatic if not tactful. "She's a Psychology student at Karakura University, shooting for her doctorate, and she runs a shelter for battered women in the city."
Rising from her seat at the table, the Mikuki offered a shallow bow to Ichigo, one of polite acknowledgement rather than submission. Her hair - dark golden-brown and an interesting contrast to her dusky skin and bright eyes - skimmed across her shoulders with the movement. "It is an honor to meet you, Doctor Kurosaki," she said levelly, straightening and extending a hand to him. "Kaien speaks very highly of you."
"That's certainly a switch," Ichigo muttered, shaking the proffered hand and keeping his eyes firmly above the level of her collarbone. Suffice it to say that Kaien had not been exaggerating the size of Miyuki's chest.
Rukia, as ever a miniature whirlwind, swept past him with a heavily-laden tea tray in her hands. "Masaki and Iwao are waiting in the living room, and Sado and Takeo should be here -"
The slamming of the front door, followed by Sado's decidedly irritated call of 'Tadaima!' interrupted her only for a split second. "...right now. Grab the cakes, please?"
Mouthing profanities, Ichigo did as he was ordered, steadfastly ignoring Kaien's laughter.
Masaki's boyfriend had settled by her side on the living-room couch, his shoulders stiffly set and subdued tension written in every line of his lean body. There was something so familiar about him, an echo of... something, something that was too distorted by the tidy button-up shirt and the neat sport coat, both of which seemed out of place against the slightly messy, too-long black hair. The man's head was down, his face obscured by a tousled spill of bangs as he read something on the screen of his phone, Masaki peering at it over his shoulder.
From the entrance hall, Ichigo could hear his younger son's voice, amusement clear in the words. "You know, if you wouldn't insist on wearing motorcycle boots, it wouldn't take you five minutes to change every time you entered a house."
The voice that answered was loud, rough, and familiar enough to throw Ichigo nearly a quarter-century back in time, to a crater in the middle of a Karakura street or the bloodied sands of Hueco Mundo, facing down a warrior with a madman's smile. "I like my fucking motorcycle boots!"
Rukia, still standing in front of him, felt the instant tension in his energy, and turned enough to throw a questioning glance over her shoulder. She wouldn't recognize the voice - it had never whispered destruction in her ear as it had in Ichigo's.
The man that stepped into the room behind his son had that same build, tall and heavily muscled, the same casually arrogant stride and carriage, the same impossible blue eyes. The face was different - the mask-fragment gone, the angles not quite so harsh, and the wild mop of hair was mostly black, with metallic blue color only staining the tips.
Nonetheless, Ichigo felt his reiatsu surge in response to the sight of his old foe, one he'd thought dead over twenty years before. "You," he snarled, and the man stopped short, his face paling as he looked over Sado's head and met Ichigo's gaze.
A gasp from the sofa caught his attention enough to pull his glare from the returned threat and turn it back to the man sitting beside his daughter, head now raised.
The man's eyes, wide with shock, were a deep emerald green that Ichigo had only known once in his life, and never forgotten. Their memory had haunted his dreams unceasingly since his return from those dead lands.
The dull thump-crack of the plate he carried striking the floor at his feet was almost lost beneath the sudden screaming of his breath, the blood in his ears.
Behind him, there was a soft sound - not quite a gasp, the barest indrawn breath - barely loud enough for him to hear, but Kaien's sharp "Miyuki?' was the only warning before all three of his visitors collapsed.
A soft breeze rippled through the branches of the sakura grove, drawing forgotten wisps of fragrance to where the group of people sat on the veranda, basking in the last warmth of the evening. The table the group had arrayed themselves around was well-laden with food and drink, and the conversation was lively.
Byakuya and Renji, anchoring one end of the table, were navigating the multiple discussions with perfect ease, despite the quiet mutterings of their Zanpakutou within their minds.
At the opposite end of the table from the noble Head and his Consort, their 'Rukongai brats,' Haru and Ko, were spiritedly debating training techniques with Ise Nanao and Kuchiki Ginrei, while Kyouraku listened in amusement, interjecting a comment whenever there was a pause.
Ukitake, seated as ever at his partner's side, was discussing the Kuchiki archives across the width of the table with Byakuya's young cousin, Fumio, who looked delighted to have the Captain express an interest in his work.
Between Fumio and Ginrei, the white-veiled figure of Hikifune Kirio made an odd addition to the gathering, but nobody had questioned her when she arrived to the gathering at Ginrei's side.
Having grown accustomed to Senbonzakura and Zabimaru's constant discussions in the background of their minds, both Byakuya and Renji instantly snapped alert when the Zanpakutou's chatter stopped with shattering abruptness.
As Renji sat bolt-upright at his side, jerking the table's conversations to a halt, Byakuya heard Zabimaru mutter a soft 'uh-oh' in the ringing silence within his mind.
The dull buzz of Renji's phone vibrating from inside his kosode was clearly audible a split-second later, and Byakuya knew even before his partner had withdrawn the phone that it would be Rukia on the other end of the line. "Excuse me, please," Renji muttered to the rest of the table, yanking out the small device even as he rose to his feet. Whether the other occupants of the table even heard him, Byakuya wasn't certain; every other Shinigami present had the distant, unfocused look of someone deep in conversation with their blade.
As Renji retreated a polite distance from the table, Byakuya sank into the connection with the Zanpakutou, feeling the links between them nearly vibrating with tense energy. Beyond the familiar cool touch of Senbonzakura and the banked fire that was Zabimaru, he could just make out the distant cold that was Sode no Shirayuki. Beyond the snow-spirit, he could taste the dark, ancient fire that he knew was Ichigo's Zangetsu.
Senbonzakura energy slid closer to his, and for a fleeting moment, he could feel a flicker of the other spirits' emotions; confused concern from Sode no Shirayuki and something that felt oddly like smug satisfaction from Zangetsu.
"The kids are WHAT?" Renji bellowed into the phone, so loudly that he jolted both Byakuya and Nanao from their meditations. Looking ruffled, Nanao shoved imperiously at her glasses, only to knock them askew when Kyouraku burst into laughter beside her and startled her into jumping again.
"...shit," Renji sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Wasn't expecting to see that lot come back, but for your kids to wind up dating them...?" Despite his best efforts, a snicker slipped out with the last word, and he was forced to pull the phone away from his ear when an evidently unimpressed Rukia began shouting loudly enough for it to be audible at the table.
"Hey, don't yell at me 'cause you married a Fate magnet," Renji shot back when her tirade paused. "Although you'd think some sorta law of ironic averages woulda kicked in by now..." Wincing, he pulled the phone away again. Shunsui, who had nearly settled, dissolved into laughter a second time, earning himself a disapproving glare from Ukitake and a bewildered stare from Fumio.
"It's not that funny, Kyouraku," Renji snapped, before returning to the phone. "Sorry, sorry. No, Kyouraku just thinks it's all fucking hysterical. Look, is everything under control there?"
He didn't sound terribly concerned, which wasn't a great surprise; if Rukia had been in any danger, her first action would not have been to place a phone call.
"Of course Urahara's not answering his phone," Renji sighed. "Are you sure they're gonna stay peaceful, or do you want our help with them?" After an extended pause, he nodded slightly. "If you're sure. Take care of yourself, a'right?" Hanging up without saying goodbye, he shoved the phone back into his kosode and returned to the table.
"Hikifune-san, somebody up there needs to be keeping better track of the reincarnation cycle," were his first words as he reached them. "Ichigo's got three reincarnated Espada passed out in his living room."
Brown eyes widened behind the slit of her veil. "Already? But they shouldn't be..." Breaking off the sentence with a shake of her head, she pushed back from the table and made to rise. Renji couldn't see exactly what happened - whether her robes caught on some unseen protrusion, or her ankle turned beneath her, or something else altogether - but whatever the reason, Hikifune stumbled. She caught herself again, not on the table as he would have expected, but on the shoulders of the men to either side of her - Ginrei and Fumio.
The flash was so fast, so subtle, that Renji probably would have missed it were he not already watching the Guard so closely. The subtle flex of her fingers against the two mens' shoulders, the split-second tightening of her eyes, and the the upwards flicker-snap
of her reiatsu as she straightened. Then, in an eyeblink, nothing was amiss - Hikifune shook out her hakama in quick, familiar motions, apologized quickly but sincerely to the two Kuchiki men, and announced to the table at large that she would investigate the Espada's return, before vanishing into Flashstep.
"Oh, my," Kyouraku piped up, an occasional chuckle still cracking his ostensibly calm facade. "The Espada have returned to pursue Kurosaki's blood in romantic terms now? Well, Yama-jii should be pleased. Taming the wild Espada with sexual wiles - "
"I am quite certain sexual wiles were not involved," Byakuya interrupted, glowering.
"We'll go on to the Twelfth Division and gather as much data as we can on their history and reincarnations before we present this to Genryuusei-Sensei," Ukitake sighed, ignoring his partner to meet Renji and Byakuya's eyes. "If they have truly found their way through the cycle of reincarnation, providing they wish no harm on us, there is little action the Gotei may take against them."
"We'll have to remind the old goat of that, no doubt," Kyouraku sighed, and snatched a couple of tea-cakes off the plate in front of him as he hauled himself to his feet. "And we might want to plan this debate a little better than the last one."
Given that their last 'debate' with their former teacher had involved the theft of a priceless Shihoin artifact, the destruction of the Soukyoku, and had progressed to released shikai before Aizen had so-politely intervened, planning would probably not go amiss.
"Nanao-chan, be a dear and wake up our Squads a little, would you? If this does mean the start of something..." Kyouraku trailed off meaningfully, and Ukitake pursed his lips in response.
"Tell your sister to get the Fifth and Sixth back on enhanced combat schedules, too," Renji added grimly, and Nanao bowed her head in acknowledgement before vanishing in a whipcrack of Shunpo.
"When do you estimate you will have enough information to proceed?" Byakuya asked, cocking an eyebrow as Kyouraku seized at his hat to keep it from being blown off his head in the wind from Nanao's departure.
"A day, two at most. If we're fortunate enough to interview the Espada in their current forms and find that they wish to present no harm to the Seireitei, it will help their cases. More so if they are willing in any way to stand against Aizen and his plans for the future, whatever they may be," Ukitake answered quickly.
"We'll dig up everything we can at the Twelfth and from our people in Karakura," Kyouraku added. "With any fortune, this will be a boon to our side and not Aizen's."
"We can only hope," Ukitake murmured, and the duo swept away with Kyouraku's parting "We'll keep in touch!"
In the ringing stillness that followed their departure, Renji sighed softly and collapsed back onto his cushion. "What do you think?" he asked, directing the question to the table in general. "Is it possible they've come back in peace?"
"It is often said that the chances within the heart are limitless," answered Ginrei from the far side of the table, and Renji sat up enough to meet the Kuchiki patriarch's silver gaze. "My grandson and yourself, Renji, are a truly fine example of the power the heart may wield. As, perhaps, are -"
"Fumio!"
The startled half-yelp from the far end of the table cut through Ginrei's words like shattered glass; both Byakuya and Renji turned to see the young archivist, his skin suddenly flushed and his body shaking, slumping forwards over the table. Ko - the one who had cried out - had already leapt up from her seat and rounded the table to him.
"I beg your pardon," Fumio whispered, his eyes pressed closed behind his glasses. "I suddenly feel... rather unwell..."
"You needn't ask our pardon, Fumio," Ginrei answered, pressing his sword-callused palm, glowing faintly with the distinct green of healing energy, gently against the young man's forehead. Ko, bracing the young man against her shoulder, busied herself checking his pulse and breathing. "I cannot detect any maleficence in your energy. It is likely you have simply overtaxed yourself, although I believe a healer's oversight might be best in any case. Ko?"
"Yes, Ginerei-sama?" the girl replied, her confident hands suddenly becoming unsteady as she raised her head to meet the man's gaze.
"You have begun training for a Squad Medic position, have you not?"
"I..." A bewildered blink, followed by a quickly indrawn breath. "Yes, Ginrei-sama. Captain Unohana has ranked me as competent though a first-year medic's training."
"Good. Please escort Fumio back to his quarters and attend him tonight. I have no wish to risk our finest archivist to whatever manner of illness his overwork has driven him to."
Bewilderment was quickly replaced by sheer astonishment - and not solely in Ko's case. Renji, for his part, was gaping at Ginrei in open disbelief. Tending to an ill member of the noble family was the work of servants, not family wards - particularly not female family wards of marriageable age. For Kuchiki Ginrei himself to be suggesting a breech of protocol so incredible -
"Y-yes, of course, Ginrei-sama," Ko stammered out, wide eyes showing she was just as keenly aware of the breech as Renji was. Nonetheless, she helped Fumio to his feet and got his arm over her shoulder, carefully supporting his weight as she helped him from the room.
Haru made his excuses quickly enough after that, Flashstepping out over the garden wall, the shortest distance between the Kuchiki manor and the Eleventh Division.
Once the three youths were safely out of earshot, Renji spun on his seat to face Byakuya and Ginrei. "What the hell was that all about?" he hissed, sharp and vehement. The two nobles glanced towards one another, holding a brief, wordless conversation that consisted almost entirely of tilted heads and cocked eyebrows.
When the exchange was apparently concluded - a faint huff of laughter from Ginrei signaling its end - Byakuya rose from his seat and circled the table, extending his arm to his grandfather. "It is... the hope of a fortunate and beneficial confluence," Byakuya answered finally, as Ginrei carefully rose to his feet, holding a white-knuckled grasp on Byakuya's forearm.
Unimpressed, Renji narrowed his eyes and continued to stare at the two nobles. "Meaning?"
Byakuya and Ginrei exchanged another round of silent commentary, and Byakuya smirked in response. "You'll see soon enough."
The soft night breeze, heavy with the asphalt-and-exhaust scent of the city, swirled over the edge of the rooftop of Ichigo's house, raking a million soothing fingers over a scalp that ached with tension.
Sighing softly, Ichigo let his head fall backwards, staring up at the darkened sky, but his mind was tumbling over the scene he had left in his living room - three semi-conscious reincarnated Espada, in the hands of his wife and children.
It wasn't until he ran his palms over his face that he realized his hands were shaking.
He was a private physician, not an Emergency Room doctor like Ishida. He'd been through medical school, done his hospital rotations, and fled the oppressive atmosphere of Karakura General as soon as he was able. And despite his combat experience, his medical work rarely translated into critical-care cases.
Watching the three reborn Espada collapse had been a harsh shock, on top of the shock of learning they were alive once again. But then, all three had started seizing.
The female - Harribel, he remembered from the post-war briefings, had only shuddered as she sank to the floor, Kaien's arms steadying her as she fell. Ulquiorra had shaken, gasping, his body wracked with tremors as Masaki carefully lowered him from the couch, holding his head stable as he shook.
But Grimmjow... 'Always destruction,' Ichigo thought wearily, running still-shaking fingers through his hair. Grimmjow's body had tried to tear itself apart.
Ichigo had been the one to force a bite-block from his kit between Grimmjow's teeth, cradle the former Espada's head in his hands to keep his once-enemy from smashing his skull open on Ichigo's floor. He'd held the head of the man who'd tried to kill him, fingers woven in the silky hair, and felt the muscles in the sleek neck, the powerful shoulders, spasming like they wanted to rip one another apart.
When it was over and all three Espada lay still and quiet, Grimmjow unconscious but uninjured beneath his hands, Ichigo had carefully slipped the bite-block from Grimmjow's lax mouth and glanced back to assess the state of the other two.
Emerald-green eyes, clear and far too aware, had met his.
"Kurosaki..."
His name had come as barely more than an exhalation, the narrow chest - the flash of a sword, ripples of white muscle and the number four in stark black against the skin - struggling to regain the breath torn from it.
A gentle touch on his shoulder jerked Ichigo's gaze away from that impossible gaze, pulling his attention to Rukia - standing behind him in her true form, her gigai fidgeting nearby as the modsoul surveyed the room.
"Rukia. I need..." to get out of here, his mind supplied, but his mouth couldn't bring himself to utter that sort of cowardice, couldn't bear to say that he wanted to run away.
But the knowledge in Ulquiorra's eyes, the frantic-fast beat of Grimmjow's heart under his hands, was all too much.
He fled.
The footsteps behind him were measured and quiet, too cautious to be those of his family or friends. Ichigo didn't react, never taking his gaze from the muted glow of the stars above him, barely visible against the glaring city lights.
There was a shuffle of movement and a sigh from beside him as Ulquiorra - as Iwao - slid down to sit on the roof beside him. Ichigo could feel the weight of the one-time Espada's stare for a long moment, but never took his eyes from the barely visible black sky.
"It's not easy for us either, you realize."
Ichigo blinked. Those were... probably the last opening words he'd expected.
"Twenty years of human memories," Ulqui - Iwao, dammit - informed him, touching one long finger to the side of his own temple. The skin of both hand and face was a healthy soft tan, nothing like the deathly bone-white Ichigo kept expecting to see when he looked at those green, green eyes. "But with those human memories, now, there are thousands of years worth of memories accumulated as a Hollow, and the recollections of my brief time as an Espada."
There was so much boiling up within Ichigo's mind, so many questions and accusations and curiosities, but the only word that he could manage to force off his tongue in response to the remarks was "Brief?"
The thin mouth - the shape of it hadn't changed, even if it was no longer rendered in stark black and white - twisted slightly at one corner, the whisper of expression somewhere between regret and resignation.
"I was among the last of the Espada to be created. When I first encountered you, I had not even finished my maturation."
Aizen sent a kid to fight me? was Ichigo's first thought, and close on its heels was I really shouldn't be surprised.
"I'm sorry," Ichigo said, almost without thinking, and finally met Ulquiorra's gaze when Iwao turned to look at him. "For... what happened. It's not how I would have chosen to end the battle." I'm sorry for killing you, he couldn't quite bring himself to say.
The impossible eyes held his gaze for a long moment before Iwao nodded once, briefly. "The apology is mutual."
The bland, matter-of-fact tone dragged a bark of laughter from Ichigo, startling them both. "You really haven't changed much, have you?"
"No more than one would expect," Iwao answered dryly, and Ichigo snorted.
"What would you say," he asked quietly, "if I told you that Aizen had returned?"
There was a brief, echoing silence, and Ulquiorra sighed softly. "I would ask what I needed to do to send his soul back to the depths of Hell."
Startled, Ichigo turned to fully face the man beside him, meeting those impossible eyes without flinching for the first time that night. "You'd fight against him? Why? You were the one Espada whose loyalty was never questioned. What's changed?"
The narrow lips tightened for a moment, considering. "I was young and foolish, deluded by lofty promises of power. I thought that following Aizen would bring me to the peak of my strength. It was not until my death that I realized I was simply chasing my own weakness."
Ichigo nodded silently, his gaze assessing the man beside him for a long moment as Ulquiorra waited, comfortable in the silence.
"You really want to help us take Aizen down?" Ichigo asked finally, and Ulquiorra gave him a startled look before nodding, without doubt or pause.
"Good. Did you guys retain your ability to sense reiatsu?"
"We did. Why do you ask?"
Twenty minutes later, Ichigo rolled open the door of the Shoten's meeting room, smirking a greeting when all eyes in the room turned towards him. "Urahara. I've brought a few additions to the search party."
~O~
Translator's Notes:
Ulquiorra: Iwao: 'Stone man'
Harribel: Miyuki: 'Deep snow'
Grimmjow: Takeo 'Violent/warrior male'