Oi, so sorry about the delay! I got very, very sidtracked. Well, a bit is revealed in this chapter. I expect there to be one or two more chapters.

Chapter Four
"What is this?"

Ichigo's perpetual frown deepens at the comment, and Aika notices vaguely how much he reminds her of a troll she met one time at the Tower. He had a wonderful sense of humor . . . and a horrible sense of smell, especially if he managed to live where he did. Troll-like or not, Ichigo thinks they should be content that he is capable of getting both Aika and Rukia food at the same time. But no, instead they whine and stick their tongues out of at the new concoction his sister has made.

It's not like the food is bad, or anything. In fact, Yuzu inherited his mother's cooking abilities. Aika and Rukia are just the pickiest eaters he has ever met in his entire life. Either the rice is too soft, or it's too hard. The soup is too spicy, or the dessert is going to rot their teeth. It's ridiculous, he thinks.

"It's food, Aika. Appreciate it." The frown is burrowed on his face, and he decides to take a stab at his homework. Why not, he has nothing better to do at the moment.

And then it comes, like a wave in the ocean over the head of a small child. The scent is riveting and both Shinigami are shocked at how alive their noses feel. It seems like they can smell each other, even, the sweet and worry and flowers, swords and wings. From the hallways they know there is sadness plastered on the walls, as well as a little boy with a big smile and a little girl with tears in her eyes.

Beyond that, innocence that is slipping away, a dark, dreary cloud that won't go away. This is complete overwhelming, knowing all this through your nose.

Aika is used to this, and her own sense of smell is only enhanced the slightest bit. But . . . there is only one thing that can be doing this. But it . . .it can't be.

She should not have been sent here! How could they send one mere faerie to battle this? The Grand Mafa had foreseen something, but she had told no one what. Danger, vague and dark and heavy, but no more than that. Danger? That is completely underestimating this creature.

Danger is this creature's dead and buried grandfather.

Aika can't fight this thing. Ichigo can't fight this thing. No one can. No Shinigami, no faerie, no troll, no nothing.

She flutters weakly over to the girl, and lands on her shoulder, gripping her neck tightly. Before she loses consciousness, she smells it. It does not smell of death, nor of life. This thing is neither. It is nothing. The nothing.

"She's passed out!" Rukia cries, interrupting the reverie the two of them were trapped in.

"Who?" Ichigo replies faintly, half listening to her. She rushes over and hits him over the head.

"Pay attention! Something's happening!" Her voice is angry, but Ichigo can practically see the fear emitting from her in waves. She's afraid. These feelings are drugging him, and he feels as if he's half-awake, or maybe that this is a dream. He's swimming through everything, and it's all numbed. "Ichigo!" Someone's calling him, but from far away. Too far away, it doesn't even matter.

Something hits him, like a trunk, it's heavy and strong and he knows—deep, deep in his head, he knows—that it should hurt, but that doesn't mean it's does. Numb. That fear scent, it's stronger than ever. He can taste it on his tongue, and it's sour and tart. There's something pressing against his lips, and he knows his heart should be beating faster, but it's all slowing down.

Through glazed eyes he sees her dark eyes, and he wants to run his fingers over her eyelids. Will she flutter them as he presses his thumb lightly against that pale skin, or will she pull away? He's suddenly incredibly curious, and even though his arms feel like lead, he's pulling them up to her face.

Bunnies. They're even in her aroma.

But her eyes are gone, and he feels something in his side again. This time . . . it hurts. Not much, but a little bit. It's enough. "Rukia?"

"Yes! You stupid idiot, what do you think you're doing, going weak on me?" She's shaking his shoulders roughly, and the feeling in his body is being jolted back violently.

"Stop, stop it!" It's odd, how she goes from kissing him—she had been kissing him, hadn't she?—to abusing him. It was so much like Rukia.

"Then get up! I feel something coming!" And she's right. There's this rippling, and this silent roar echoing in his head, as if its always been there.

"Is it . . . another Menos Grande?" He's pulling himself up, his legs still not completely right.

"No! It's . . . it's too strong! Ichigo, I don't think even you stand a chance against whatever this is! I . . . you can't face it! You'll die!" She sounds desperate, and Ichigo can still taste her on his tongue. Not her physical taste, but her mind taste. It's like he has been blocking something in his brain his whole life—everyone has—and the door has opened and everything's flooding in. He knows things there's no way he should be able to know.

She's afraid, and she wants him to stay with her as long as possible, and if he's dead she'll be alone. It's what she's thinking. He knows what she's thinking.

He wonders if she knows what he's thinking.

"Make me a Shinigami, Rukia." It's not a question; it's a firm demand. He's not going to back down from this, despite Rukia's fear and his own. Who else has the slightest chance of defeating this thing? She has to understand.

She will not cry. She has not cried in too long. She will not cry.

She will not cry, she repeats, slipping on the red glove the two of them know so well. The faerie is still balanced precariously on her shoulder, but neither of them are paying her any mind. She will not cry. And Ichigo's physical body falls into a limp heap at her feet, and his Shinigami self is standing in front of her, readying his sword.

"Don't follow me, Rukia," he yells at her as he runs towards the window, opening it with a quick push.

"Stop being an idiot, Ichigo! If you're going to go kill yourself, I refuse to let you do it on your own!" And he looks back at her, as if there is time for useless eye contact that says it all. Damn, in their hearts, they know it all already. They've known it for a while.

They let their feet lead them towards this mysterious entity, having no idea what to expect but they know it's going to be horrible.

Aika awakens sometime on the way, her skirt higher than proper, but that is the last thing on her mind. They're. . . running towards it? Why?

"Stop!" she cries, standing up on Rukia's thin shoulder, balancing herself with the thin black wings on her back. "What do you think you're doing! You're crazy if you think you can handle this!"

Ichigo doesn't even turn his head to look at her, but she knows he's speaking to her. "Look, we're not interested. We're gonna fight it, and your screams about how we shouldn't aren't going to stop us!" He can say this, and the words can tumble out, but he has no power behind them.

Aika does. "Stop." Suddenly Ichigo cannot move, and although he's itching to put up his sword and slash something, he can't. Has Aika grown? he wonders, looking at her from the corner of his eye. "Ichigo, you can not fight this. Your friend Ishida—" He's not my friend, Ichigo thinks to himself, stupidly. "Has more of a chance than you do!"

But the boy with the ebony hair isn't anywhere nearby. In fact, he's not even in the precinct. He's off in a sewing competition, and doing quite well if he does say so himself.

Ichigo wants to demand furiously why a guy like that would have a better chance against a hollow, but he can't even move his mouth. From the looks of it, neither can Rukia.

"Do you want to know what this creature is? Will it stop you from pursuing it if I inform you of your ancestor's misdeeds?" She takes a deep breath, and its not difficult to conclude that she's going to drop something of a bombshell. "That thing is half faerie, half Shinigami. I told you the Shinigami of old got too arrogant, right? That they thought themselves too strong? They were getting bored, up there in their towers and villages, and they weren't happy just being alive any longer."

What is she getting to? Rukia has a horrible idea of what they did now . . . but. . . that's impossible. An honorable Shinigami would never allow this to occur. . .

"They created the Hollows. They experimented until they separated a human's soul from its ethereal body, leaving only a being that has a thirst for the thing it lacks." She glares at the two Shinigami hatefully, and continues after a moment's pause. "Us, faeries would have nothing to do with it. We stopped most contacts with Shinigami, and we only have get in touch with one when it is absolutely necessary."

The silence was like a flower pedal falling on a windy day, slow and long, vulnerable and dead. It's as if a stomping foot stepped on it, turning it brown with dirt. Rukia and Ichigo would not have spoken even if they had been free of Aika's voicespell.

This is more of a shock for Rukia than for Ichigo. After all, Ichigo knows a grand total of two Shinigami, and can easily imagine them corrupted and evil.

Rukia, though, knew more. She lived with them, she worked with them, she loved a few of them. How could Shinigami like the ones she had known have done something like this? How many had fallen to the Hollows?

She thought they were the good guys.

Maybe there aren't any good guys.

The creature senses the two frozen Shinigami, and another scent, one much more familiar. Faerie. It tilts its head to the side, trying to understand this. Where are the faeries?

It remembers a time when the spicy and musky aroma of mischievous pixies and noble warrior gremlins would assalt your senses whenever you awoke. Now . . . the only faerie-like scent he can catch is a faint one with the two Shinigami.

In its absence . . . had the Shinigami gone as far as to harm the faeries? If they had, it would personally see the mall pay of their mistakes . . . as painfully as possible.

It crawled through this thick, sickly human air, and it feels dirty and disgusting on its skin. This is why faeries don't like this world. Humans don't have their priorities straight, and care more about their brief entertainment than everlasting health and beauty. It wants to go and start massacring Shinigami as quickly as possible.

The aroma of black death and decisive white weapons is getting closer and closer . . .

By this time Aika is too preoccupied with the approaching presence to hold the voicespell on the two. "Shit. It's coming."

Rukia and Ichigo could have both figured that out by now. It's terrifying, this spiritual energy. More than Byakuya's and Kenpachi's put together and mulitpied by five. Rukia wants to throw up. In fact, she's barely standing.

Ichigo notices this, and holds both her shoulders in his hands tightly. "Are you okay, Rukia?" He whispers into her ear, and she wonders how he can manage to be so calm. Ichigo's strength can in no way measure to . . .

"Shinigami? Stand still. It won't be long for me to eat you."

The first Hollow is standing before them.