AN:

Hi guys, I'm still alive!

Bleach readers: Do you guys still exist? Hi! There's a pairing with a big age gap in this fic! If you don't like it, please don't read this fic! Thanks!

AoD readers: Shh, don't spoil anything for the Bleach readers in the comments lol

"Hey, brat, try ta keep up!"

The group of five black-clad shinigami zipped from dirty rooftop to dirty rooftop. It had been raining and the air was still damp, but it was hot and muggy. It was still only spring, but they were far south in Hong Kong, so it was warmer than it would have otherwise been. The smallest shinigami, a slight blonde with calm blue eyes and the only woman, trailed behind, sweating from the oppressive heat.

"Maaan, why d'we gotta carry that dead weight with us anyway?" one of the other four complained. "This'd go so much faster if we could ditch her. She's worthless." It was said with a pant as the man wiped sweat from his greasy brow. The woman was silent as always.

"Dumbass safety precautions," a third said. "If it wasn't for that, Fourth Division would never leave Soul Society." His three companions apparently thought that was the funniest thing they'd heard all night and they all howled with laughter. But since they'd slowed, the healer stopped and looked out across the city from the rooftops. It was nostalgic and caused a small pang in her chest.

She still had slivers of her life before Soul Society. She had haunted dark alleyways, rain-soaked corners and abandoned buildings, even when she was alive. Once she died, instead of finding the rest her religion had promised, she saw her own corpse surrounded by flowers and its single mourner – then she was quickly shuffled off to Soul Society by an attentive shinigami. But she never forgot that man.

"Not like we're gonna get hurt enough to even need her." The conversation continued on around her. "We should just send her back so she can treat some skinned knees or something."

"Hey, chump!" the tallest one called, trying to suppress his laughter. She thought he was a seated officer; the rest were his flunkies. "Go back to Soul Society before you piss your hakama. Hollow huntin's no place for some little flower like you!"

Ray really did hate dealing with Eleventh Division. They tended to remind her of her father and most of them smelled like sweat and dirt. Bullies with meat for brains. But as the Seventeenth Seat lumbered over to tower over her, she felt as if she was staring leagues past him.

The smell of smoke reached her. Paradoxically, so did the smell of wet dirt and dirty bandages.

No. That couldn't be right. Her mind was playing tricks on her.

But the other three behind them had stopped laughing. In fact, there was only the sound of liquid dripping, like a slow, diseased rain. Then came the sound of bodies hitting the rooftops and a sickening gurgling. That, at least, was familiar. Comforting, even.

The seated officer had realized it too; his eyes narrowed and he reached for his zanpakuto, slung low on his hip. Ray knew it wouldn't clear its sheath.

"You can't beat him," she said reflexively. "You should just run." He bristled and puffed his chest.

"What the hell do you know, medic?!" he bellowed. "Eleventh Division doesn't just ru-" Of course he didn't finish that sentence. Ray watched passively as the last body fell to the wet concrete. Then she looked up at the hollow who'd shoved his whole curved hand through the Soul Reaper's chest.

He was twice her size, easily, and so black that he nearly caused a distortion of the light around him. And he was hot, steam wafting from him in waves; his breath was a solid stream of white pouring from beneath his mask. The mask itself had fangs like daggers, nearly reaching his chest, and a long snout like a carnivore. There was a bushy tail swishing behind him, as well. And right where his heart would have been, Ray could see the skyline through his chest. Reflexively, she covered her own as she stared at him wide-eyed.

Altogether, he had the appearance of a giant, smoldering wolf hollow.

Ray didn't flinch. She simply stared as he stretched his nearly meter long claws towards her face. As his hand came to close around her face, her eyes drifted shut. A wave of relief washed over her.

But then she heard shouting behind her. The other shinigami had found them.

When she opened her eyes again, the hollow was gone. As the shinigami shouted, calling the other medics over and treating the newly killed in vain, Ray felt completely alone once more.

But for the first time in nearly thirty years, she felt something else: hope.

"For a regular hollow, this one sure is being difficult. I mean, twenty men, all from Eleventh Division, in the space of two weeks. And he only attacks in crowded cities. In all that time, only one survivor."

"That's too bad."

"And the only survivor was a little blonde shinigami from Fourth Division, smaller than me! She didn't even fight him, he was simply frightened away before he could finish her off."

"Fascinating."

"Ichigo, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were uninterested in this case."

The redhead looked up from his school notebook, casting a flat expression towards his old friend. He propped his chin onto his fist and let his disdain be known.

"I am uninterested," he confirmed. "I have mid-terms next week and I need to finish studying or I'm going to flunk this course. Come back after that." The petite shinigami currently kicking her legs idly atop his bed simply smiled.

"Why don't you have Inoue-san help you study?" Rukia suggested, only half-serious. Ichigo bristled.

"Because she's not in school now," he snapped. "University is optional, you know."

"What about Ishida-san, then?" Ichigo felt his eye twitch.

"You can go through my entire high school yearbook, but none of them are in my classes now," he replied. "Not that it matters, because that doesn't change the fact that you're trying to wheedle me into helping you with this and I don't have time." Rukia's smile brightened and that nearly made Ichigo feel ill. It was never going to be a good sign when Rukia smiled like that, especially given the current conversation.

"Oh, I'm not looking for your help," she retorted. "The Captain Commander has specifically asked for you to take this case." Ichigo groaned and slapped his pencil onto the desk.

"Dammit, it's just a stupid hollow!" Rukia simply kicked her feet in satisfaction.

"It is, but it also specifically stays in the human world." She pointed out. "We can't send anyone more imposing without seriously affecting the spiritual balance right now; it still hasn't recovered from what the Sternritters did. It's all we could do just to keep Captain Kenpachi from storming down here to take matters into his own hands to avenge his men. The only way we cooled him down was by telling him we'd put you on the case."

And then Ichigo knew he was defeated. Kenpachi could rarely be reasoned with, and if that was the situation, he had better go ahead and get it over with.

"Alright, alright," he huffed, ruffling his hair. "You win. Where do we begin?"

Unsurprisingly, the beginning was with the sole survivor of the other encounter. She had been sequestered in Fourth Division since the encounter two weeks ago. According to Rukia, her name was Ray and she hadn't really spoken to anyone since.

"It isn't as if she doesn't respond," she said, repeating the info she had been given. "She just won't talk about the encounter at all. Captain Kotetsu thinks she's traumatized, but says it's odd that she shows no other signs of it." The pair had crossed the Senkaimon into Soul Society almost as soon as Rukia had announced that Ichigo would be helping out with this mission. As she filled him in, they walked down the corridors of Fourth Division's wards; Ichigo couldn't help but think that they were significantly less menacing under new management. Then again, he rarely had any reason to be there. He had his own healer, after all.

Finally, they reached their destination. As she hesitated before the door, Rukia gave Ichigo one last cautious glance.

"All that being the case," Rukia said, "please try to be on your best behavior, alright? She might be a little… odd, but she's been through a lot. So try to be nice." Ichigo snorted.

"I'm not always a dick," he protested weakly. It wasn't like he'd be cruel if she didn't give him any reason to be. But Rukia's sharp glance told him she disagreed. He rolled his eyes in return.

The room on the other side was relatively bright, with curtains drawn and windows open. Late afternoon sunlight slanted across the woman in the bed. Were she human, Ichigo would have thought she could pass for one of his classmates, no older than 22 or 23. She wore the clean white pajamas of the other patients, with straw blonde hair falling over her shoulders and down her back. Her face had a certain sweetness to it and her lidded blue eyes were focused on the sewing project in her hands. Judging by her complexion, hair, and eyes, she was probably American or British in life. But Rukia was right; as attractive as the girl was, even Ichigo could feel some sort of wrongness about her. And he had the spiritual sensitivity of a rock.

If he had been asked to design a girl from scratch whose name could sound like both "ghost" and "zero", Ichigo couldn't have done a better job than this.

As she poked the doll she was sewing with her needle, she stopped humming mid-note and turned to look at the intruders.

"We're sorry to interrupt, Gardner-san," Rukia said, her tone sweeter than Ichigo was used to. "But I wanted to introduce you. Ichigo will be taking over that hollow's case in the Human World." Ichigo gave the girl a perfunctory half-bow. He didn't really expect an actual response.

"Kurosaki Ichigo," he said. "Nice to meet you." The girl blinked at him and, to his surprise, responded in kind.

"Ray Gardner," she replied dutifully. "Are you going to look for him?"

"Yeah," he answered. "It got thrown at me to keep Kenpachi in Soul Society." She simply nodded her understanding; Ichigo figured she'd probably had experiences with Eleventh Division similar to Hanatarou's.

"Alright."

"So can you tell us-"

Rather than look at either of them, though, the blonde had begun packing her sewing box. She silently put away the small soft doll she'd been sewing – Ichigo thought it was supposed to be a boy in a brown jacket. Then, she slid her legs over the side of the bed and let her feet touch the floor.

"Alright," she said softly, filling the void where he'd trailed off. "Can you step outside for a moment, please?" With that, she rose off the bed. Rukia was right – she was just as short as her. But just as Ichigo was about to protest, Rukia stopped him.

"Sure," she said sweetly. "We'll be just outside the door. Call us when you're ready."

"Well, that was a waste of a trip," Ichigo huffed when they were safely on the other side. He stood across the hallway from Rukia and the door to the room, arms folded and leaning against the hallway wall. The smaller Soul Reaper shook her head.

"Captain Kotetsu said she was blunt like that," Rukia replied. "Besides, even if she's a Soul Reaper, she's still a girl. She probably didn't want some strange man in her room while she's in her pajamas." Ichigo bristled, hackles rising like a great orange cat.

"Says the girl who lived in my closet once for three months?" he scoffed. "Anyway, she's way stranger than I'll ever be." Rukia shook her head.

"Be kind, Ichigo," she nearly scolded. "I can't say I knew her before this happened, but from what Kiyone-senpai and Captain Kotetsu have said, she's always been quiet. Likes to keep to herself."

"I've never seen a ghost that looks dead like that before." Rukia cocked her head to the side.

"Of course you have," she replied plainly. "You've seen spirits mangled by car accidents and impaled by steel beams." Ichigo shook his head. Maybe Rukia was more used to attitudes like that. Maybe it was the result of trauma that shinigami had to endure, seeing death day in and day out. Ichigo would know.

"It's her eyes," Ichigo explained. "Dead, creepy eyes."

"I get that a lot."

The blonde had emerged from her room, silent as the grave. Rukia had even startled upon hearing her voice; the door had made no noise as it opened and Ichigo thought Rukia might have just realized what he had been talking about. Either way, she was now fully dressed in her black shihakushou, complete with a little Fourth Division bag slung across her shoulder.

"Err, anyway, Gardner-san!" Rukia recovered with a small clap. "We'd like to talk with you about your encounter with the hollow. Can we go back in now?" Ray shook her head, closing the door behind her.

"No need," she said. "I'll come with you instead." Rukia smiled awkwardly, holding her hands palm-out.

"Th-That's not really necessary," she stammered. The blonde's expression didn't change.

"I want to," came the simple answer. "Besides, I know that hollow."

"What?!"

Ray looked from one to the other of them, but when no other explanation was forthcoming, Ichigo filled the awkward silence.

"You mean you've encountered it before," he helpfully supplied. Ray shook her head.

"No, I knew him in life."

"That's - That's a good reason for you not to go with us!" Rukia exclaimed. Even Ichigo knew that; Rukia had yelled at him about it enough. 'Killing in one blow from behind is the essence of hollow hunting' – it was a liability to know the hollow's true identity. It caused hesitation and other simple mistakes.

"No," Ray said quietly. "I know the reason the other Soul Reapers couldn't kill him. If you try, he'll kill you, too."

"Then tell us what the deal is and we'll handle it," Ichigo said. "There's no reason to put yourself in harm's way over this." Those dead blue eyes of hers turned steely, but Ichigo was no pushover. There was no way Ichigo was going to let her tag along. She could give them the info and then stay safe in Soul Society – and out of their way. Instead, she started walking back the way they'd come.

"I don't mind," Ray answered. "After all, he's the man who killed me."

"A serial killer?"

The sun was going down, painting Karakura-cho in bloody reds and oranges. The trio had emerged near the riverbank and were walking along it as they spoke. Ray's eyes remained as expressionless as ever, even when she was describing her killer. Ichigo couldn't help the chill that ran up his spine when he looked at her face for too long.

"More like a psycho killer," she replied. "His name was Isaac Foster. I think I was his last victim." Rukia seemed to be strategizing as she listened.

"So he died not too long after killing you," she thought out loud. "You know, we do have some experience with this." That was probably the most emotion Ichigo had seen Ray show yet – mild surprise. But Ichigo immediately recalled what she meant.

"With… killers?"

"Yeah," Ichigo confirmed. "We dealt with one a while back. Pretty tough customer for a regular hollow." Rukia's eyebrows pinched together as she also remembered Shrieker.

"What a strange case," she recalled. "He trapped the soul of a young boy inside a parakeet. The boy eventually found his way to Soul Society, but Shrieker…" Ichigo nodded and finished her thought.

"He got dragged to Hell."

After a few more paces, they realized Ray had stopped following.

"What's wrong?"

Something had changed about her expression, but the light was growing fainter. Ichigo could have sworn there was some dim color illuminated in Ray's eyes, but it must have just been due to the sunset. Still, she was clearly disturbed about something.

"To Hell?" she whispered. "There is a… There really is a Hell?" Ichigo was taken aback by her sudden intensity as she stepped forward, but Rukia seemed unfazed.

"Do you not remember from the Academy?" she asked. "It's one of the five realms." That didn't seem to calm her at all.

"You really shouldn't worry about it," Ichigo volunteered. "Only truly evil people get taken there." Her expression didn't waver.

"Like serial killers," Ray confirmed. Rukia cast Ichigo a look he couldn't read, but he continued anyway.

"Yeah," he replied with a nod. "If this Foster is as bad as you say he is, he'll get dragged down as soon as we finish him off." Rukia seemed a bit hesitant but finished Ichigo's thought anyway.

"That's right," she said. "He'll be permanently removed from the cycle of rebirth. Hell doesn't let its prisoners go - ever. So you'll never have to worry about him again." After another moment of awkward silence, Ray nodded and began walking towards them again.

"I see," was all she said. It was odd, but Ichigo couldn't put the pieces together just yet. Maybe when he had a chance to speak to Rukia without this girl around, they'd be able to figure it out.

"Anyway," Rukia said finally. "We'll work out our strategy once we get to Ichigo's place." The girl pulled even with them and they carried on their way.

The trip to Ichigo's house wasn't long. Rukia and Ray hadn't assumed gigai yet and Ichigo had left his body on his bed in his room. As they passed through the kitchen at the foot of the stairs, Ichigo noticed that his sisters were getting ready for dinner. More accurately, the blonde, Yuzu, was cheerfully cooking. Her black-haired twin, Karin, sat at the kitchen table doing her homework. He saw Ray cast them a look, but say nothing.

When they reached his room, however, she spoke up.

"Are they your friends?" she asked.

"Sisters," Ichigo supplied, flopping into his desk chair. His body still laid on the bed, covers over his face. Ray didn't sit, but Rukia hopped right onto his legs. At least the weird girl had the courtesy to not mess up his bed.

"Keep the blonde one inside," she said cryptically. Ichigo raised his eyebrow.

"Foster…?" he asked. Ray met his eyes and that same creepy feeling washed over him again.

"His preference is for blondes," she said. It seemed true on its face; Ray was blonde, it made sense. But something about it struck Ichigo as strange. Since when was a serial killer's victim so self-aware? And why did her voice sound so cold when she said it?

"So what you're saying is, we can draw him out with the right victim?" Ichigo asked directly. Ray nodded.

"It's possible," she answered thoughtfully. "I saw him in Hong Kong. Then I heard he was in Busan. Then Kyoto. This place has really strong spiritual energy. I wouldn't be surprised if he comes here soon." Rukia also seemed to be giving it some deep thought.

"Karakura-cho is a spiritual hot spot," she provided. "If he's in East Asia, he'll eventually make his way here. Gardner-san, do you think…" Ichigo suspected he was thinking the same as Rukia.

"He might come out for you," he interjected. Both women looked at him and seemed to see the sense in it.

"That's why I wanted to come," Ray replied. "I figured he would come if I provided the bait."

"He did already kill you once," Rukia said thoughtfully. Ray nodded.

"We just have to find a place he'll –"

"Ku~ro~sa~ki~saaaan~! Would you like some breaaaad~? I'll make it cheaaaaap~!"

Simultaneously, all three expressions changed. Rukia gained a devilish smile, Ray winced, and Ichigo felt as though he'd been blasted in the face with a hair dryer. Why'd she have to show up now, of all times?

Of course, Ichigo knew why. Orihime's shift at the bakery had ended for the night and she was using her "reject bread" as an excuse to stop by. Not that he minded; generally, he enjoyed when Orihime visited. They talked manga and the bread really was quite good (although he'd never outright admit it). But tonight was obviously a bad time.

"Crap," he grumbled. Rukia's grin spread across her face.

"Another sister?" Ray asked. She seemed slightly interested. Ichigo couldn't fathom why.

"No, a friend," he quickly corrected.

"A friend, hmm?" Rukia asked, her tone obvious that there was an extra meaning there. Ray didn't seem to pick up on it.

"Shut up, Rukia," Ichigo grunted, rising from his desk chair. He moved to the window and stuck his head out, not bothering to get back into his body. "Yo, Inoue! Cut it out – the neighbors'll get the wrong idea!"

The baker was underneath his window, holding a tray of bread, as she usually did during this time of day. Orihime favored him with a big smile, her voice nearly a song as she called up.

"Did I hear that Rukia-san is here?" she asked happily. "I have bread for her, too! Rukia-saaaaan~!" Ichigo sighed, but Rukia bounded over to the window to wave down at her friend.

"Inoue-san, hi!" she called. "Come on up!" Ichigo nearly choked.

"No, don't!" he protested. "Inoue, you need to go home! I'll fill you in later, alright?" Her expression grew confused, but the blonde behind them spoke up.

"No, invite her up," she said quietly. "I want to meet her." Color rose to Ichigo's face.

"Look, this isn't a social call!" But Orihime had already disappeared inside the house. The blonde, however, seemed stoic as ever.

"We can use her," she said. Both Ichigo and Rukia stood silent.

"What do you m-"

"Absolutely not!"

"She's perfect."

None of the shinigami ever listened to Ichigo. It was like yelling at deaf people.

"Perfect for what?!" he squawked. "No, y'know what, never mind! It doesn't matter. You're not wrapping Inoue up with a serial killer!" But Ray's expression stayed as flat as it had been.

"Foster hates cheerful people," Ray provided. "He wouldn't be able to resist killing someone like that, or your sister downstairs." Rukia also looked thoughtful, and that was never a good sign.

"No one is more cheerful than Inoue-san," Rukia thought out loud. Ichigo puffed up, trying not to let his temper get the better of him. The situation was quickly getting out of control.

"He would come back from the dead just to kill that girl," Ray affirmed.

"And that's why she's dropping the bread off and I'm walking her home," Ichigo said firmly.

"Eh? You are?"

Damn, she was already there.

Orihime was at his elbow, tray of bread between her hands. Before he could blink, Rukia had already ran over to greet her.

"Inoue-san, nice to see you again!"

"Oh, Rukia-san! I hadn't realized you were back in town! Are you here for business? Where's Abarai-kun? How is the wedding planning going?" This was apparently the golden ticket, because all premises of stopping any serial killing hollows were thrown out the window for girly gossip. Ichigo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, flopping back in his desk chair. Passing his mid-terms was only a fleeting dream now. His only consolation was that Ray seemed as bewildered as he was. But quite soon the topic turned back to the nature of Rukia's trip.

"We're actually here to look for a dangerous hollow," Rukia mentioned. "You haven't noticed anything odd lately, have you?" Orihime shook her head.

"Well, one of the neighbor's cats had kittens and at least one of them looks like Bob Sapp," the brunette replied thoughtfully. "But other than that, not really." Then she looked past Rukia for the first time and noticed the blonde shinigami attempting to blend into the bedroom wall. "Oh, hello!"

"Er, hello…"

"I'm Inoue Orihime," she said with a small curtsy and a dip of her skirts. "Pleased to meet you!"

"R-Ray…" the blonde replied. "You can see us." Orihime looked puzzled.

"Why would I not?"

"Inoue is spiritually sensitive," Ichigo supplied. "My younger sister probably saw you, too." Ray's surprise didn't last long.

"Ah," she pressed on. "Then you can help us." Ichigo sputtered.

"That's not what I meant!"

"Inoue-san, you might be interested in this case," Rukia carried on, ignoring Ichigo. She went to the closet, pulled out the cushion that Orihime usually used when she was in Ichigo's room, and handed it to her; soon she was back in her place on his bed while Orihime sat cross-legged on the floor. "This hollow was a serial killer in life."

"Haaaaaah?! Scary!" But then after thinking about it for a moment, a big smile covered Orihime's face. "But that's kind of cool, though!" she finally chirped. Ichigo was completely unsurprised, but Rukia seemed bewildered. Ray was unmoved.

"C… Cool?"

"Yeah!" Orihime continued. "Did you know there are whole YouTube shows about famous killers? And podcasts, too! They have lots of fans!" Something about this seemed to stir an emotion in Ray, but Ichigo was hard-pressed to say what.

"Fans?" she asked. The sound of her voice nearly sucked all the warmth from the room, but Orihime seemed not to notice. Instead, she favored her with a sunny smile.

"Uhn! I don't think they'd actually want to meet them in real life or anything," she quickly amended. "But their stories are so strange and tragic, it's hard to not be interested!" The chill in the room seemed to dissipate almost instantly. Then, Rukia's face lit up.

"Say, Inoue-san," Rukia said, finger on her chin. "Have any of those shows mentioned a serial killer named Isaac Foster?" Ray's eyebrows rose; it was probably the most animated Ichigo had seen her become yet. Orihime looked thoughtful for a second before a look of recognition dawned across her face.

"That's… the Back-Alley Murderer, right?" she replied, as though she was answering a question in class.

Of course Inoue would know that, Ichigo thought, groaning inwardly. However, Rukia didn't answer her; Ray did.

"Yes, that's him," the blonde replied evenly. "He was American and probably died around 1993 or 94." Orihime nodded eagerly.

"Uhn, I remember that episode!" she chirped. Then, looking up at the ceiling, she continued. "They said he escaped from all sorts of things – an illegal orphanage, a burning building, death row. But in the end, he went back and attacked a police station head-on and that's how he died." Even Ichigo had to admit that he was intrigued.

"Why would he do that?" he asked, interested despite himself. "It doesn't make any sense." It was contradictory; why would a serial killer that had already escaped death row go back to a police station?

"The hosts said there were a couple theories," Orihime provided, turning to look at Ichigo. "Like that he wanted to die, so he provoked the police to shoot him. Or that they had wronged him in the past and he was out for revenge. There's not much information about him, so no one knows for sure."

"Gardner-san," Rukia asked, turning to the blonde. "Do you have any ideas about that?" She shook her head in response.

"None," she said quietly. "That was after my time." Orihime looked curious for a moment, but Ichigo went ahead with the conversation.

"It's probably not important anyway," he said. "We just have to lure him out, right? We already know how to do that." Ray seemed more than comfortable to discuss that.

"Right," she confirmed. "Like the name 'Back-Alley Murderer' says, he sticks to dark alleys." The three others were attentive, so she continued. "He used to hunt mainly around bars and run-down areas. So if you have any seedy parts of town, that's where he'll be."

"I don't really hang out in places like that," Ichigo plainly pointed out. "I'm still a student." Orihime blinked in his general direction.

"You're old enough to drink now," she offered, as though he'd forgotten. Not that he'd have time, what with his classes.

"What, do you go out drinking, Inoue?" Just the idea nearly made Ichigo choke. Orihime was the last person who needed to be alone in a bar. Fortunately, she just laughed and shook her head.

"Only if my co-workers want to go after work," she said cheerfully. "Most of the time I'm too busy, though!" It was less than comforting, honestly, but Ichigo let it slide.

"Oh!" Rukia piped up. "We do that in Soul Society, too! But that means you know a few places like that here!" Orihime nodded enthusiastically.

"Uhn!" she chimed. "I can show you!"