A/N: Happy New Year to all of my readers! I think many of you have been waiting for this chapter and the next to follow. Enjoy :)

2:42 p.m.

Orihime had been running, too. But now she stood stock-still, warily eyeing the man blocking her path.

Or arrancar, she supposed, although his broken mask resembled more of a helmet, really. Well, half of one. Bone white, it covered the left side of his head and extended down past his chin. It overlapped itself gracefully at points and a small piece at the top protruded upward in a graceful arc.

They stood facing each other at the edge of a small field, the same one where Tatsuki had been found unconscious all those weeks ago. Orihime could make out the sizable crater in the background. She had no way of knowing that it was the very arrancar in front of her who had caused this damage and had stood indifferently as his companion attempted to devour her friend's soul.

She had no reason to guess that she stood even less of a chance against this creature than the shark-toothed man who she'd faced more than a month ago.

Somehow she knew, anyway.

She took a hesitant step back. When she'd felt the oppressive auras appear suddenly around town, she'd shouted excuses and run out of math class, not even pausing to grab her bag. As she ran, she could feel other energies rise up in challenge—some of them soul reapers, she knew—and she focused on them as they scattered about Karakura Town.

When she pinpointed the one she was seeking, she took off in the direction of the residential district where she could feel his spiritual energy. She had turned the corner with the intention of cutting across the small field and met unexpected resistance.

The sense of urgency she had felt up to this point now vanished, replaced by something much more visceral. Why she felt she would have been a help to Ichigo, she had no idea.

"You are Orihime Inoue."

It was a statement uttered in complete certainty. He was not asking for confirmation.

She gave it anyway, nodding. She didn't bother explaining that one of the names was wrong, had been wrong for a while, didn't ask how he knew who she was. She wasn't sure if she opened her mouth she could make words come out in coherent sentences.

"I am Ulquiorra Cifer, the Cuatro Espada," he explained, his face deadpan but his voice full of disdain, as if he was talking to a dog who had just rolled around in the mud and gotten the carpet dirty. "How foolish that your soul reapers should let you wander alone during times such as these. Surely they must have anticipated our arrival."

Orihime found her voice. "Wh-who are you?" she stammered. Several seconds passed without a response and she mentally kicked herself. He had just said who he was, even though she hadn't understood the meaning of "cuatro" or "espada." Could it mean general? Did the arrancar have generals? It would certainly explain the helmet-mask.

"Why are you here?" she managed again.

He took his time responding and Orihime felt as if she were under intense scrutiny.

"I am under orders to take you to Hueco Mundo. Lord Aizen demands it."

Hueco Mundo! The name had come up during her discussion with her family and Rukia. Wasn't that what the hollows called their home? And Aizen! She couldn't imagine what the powerful, traitorous soul reaper could want with her or how he had even learned her name.

"Me?" she spluttered. "Why me?"

"Do not think for a moment that you are special, human," he said with derision. The faintest shadow of a sneer flitted across his features. "Lord Aizen does not concern himself with human weaklings. You are bait and nothing more."

"Bait? For what?" Orihime was liking this conversation considerably less by the moment. She took another wary step back.

But Ulquiorra was apparently done talking. She blinked and then he was in front of her. She hadn't seen him move.

He grabbed her roughly by the collar of her uniform and lifted her up until she was level with his height, some 30 centimeters taller than her. It took Orihime unawares and she squeaked indignantly, instinctively clawing at the arm that gripped her. The white fabric of his jacket gave, but his arm felt like it was made of stone.

It was suddenly hard to breathe.

"Your struggling is useless, human. To think that you could ever get away from—"

A bright light and a minor explosion interrupted him and Orihime fell to the ground, hard. She looked up in surprise at the arrancar who had just dropped her. His arm was still stretched out and the fabric of his sleeve was charred slightly. He did not look as if he had been harmed, merely mildly inconvenienced. He looked past Orihime's sprawled form in the direction the attack had just come from, wearing the same disinterested expression.

She followed his gaze.

Uryu stood erect. His right hand gripped a bow and his left hand was held out as if he had just fired an arrow, though he held no quiver. He was dressed entirely in white and a little cape fluttered around his shoulders as if caught in a light breeze.

"Hasn't anyone taught you to treat women with more respect?" he taunted. "It looks like you need to be taught some manners."

Despite his bravado, Uryu knew he would have a difficult time besting the opponent in front of him. He remembered all too well how the last battle had gone with this particular arrancar, and in the same spot no less. The crater just a few meters away was testament enough to the power these espada wielded.

He could feel other battles raging around him, soul reaper pitted against arrancar. He could expect no help from that quarter.

Ulquiorra narrowed his eyes, recognizing the quincy he had fought the first time he had come to this contemptible world.

"You again? Foolish boy. You are merely delaying the inevitable by interfering. Run, and I may let you live."

Uryu responded by nocking another light-arrow.

"Then you have chosen your fate," the arrancar replied coolly, and disappeared again from Orihime's view.

2:44 p.m.

The battle wasn't going well for Ichigo.

He knelt on the road in the middle of a neighborhood, one hand barely managing to keep a grip on his sword. Grimmjow advanced, an animalistic grin on his face.

In another desperate attempt, Ichigo again brought his hand to his temple, forming a mask underneath his fingers as he had done already multiple times that day. It broke suddenly and painfully right before it reached completion, and the unfinished pieces clattered to the ground and disintegrated.

Grimmjow's grin grew wider and he delivered a powerful kick that sent the soul reaper careening across rooftops to an entirely new neighborhood.

He laughed cruelly. "Looks like that mask has a limit and you've already overextended yourself today."

Before the boy could right himself, he brought his sword down piercing one of Ichigo's wrists and pinning it to the pavement. It took all of Ichigo's self-control not to cry out at the sudden intense pain.

The arrancar put a hand up to the soul reaper's face. "But don't worry. One cero at close range will be more than enough to take care of that mask-wearing head of yours for good!"

He grinned again in anticipation and a ball of light grew in the center of his palm. He prepared to release the blow that would tear that blasted orange-haired soul reaper to bits—

Grimmjow felt two things happen at once. He sensed an unknown spiritual energy materialize behind him, and his hand, which was just about to discharge a fully-formed cero, was now encased in a block of ice. Before he could turn around and face his new opponent, he heard a woman's voice shout an incantation and then the world was frozen about him—quite literally.

"Ichigo!" Rukia rushed towards the incapacitated soul reaper and crouched down next to him, grasping the hilt of the arrrancar's sword that still kept him firmly fixed to the ground.

"That was some move," he said weakly, as his friend attempted to pull out the blade embedded in his skin. He winced in pain as she fumbled with it.

"Quiet," she commanded. "This is hard enough as it is." She gave it a few more tugs, but it refused to budge. She sighed and paused her efforts for a moment. "Listen, Ichigo—"

The world erupted into shards around them as Grimmjow broke free of his icy prison. His hand shot forward and grabbed Rukia's head, holding it in a crushing grip.

"Did you think you could keep me contained in under such a thin sheet of ice?!" he demanded. "Idiot!"

A light formed again in his palm as he prepared for the second time that day to blow off someone's head. He didn't care whose head it was really, though he enjoyed the act more if it belonged to a soul reaper. Especially if it was a soul reaper standing in the way of killing that orange-headed brat.

His attempt was foiled quite rudely once again, as an explosion forcibly separated him from his victim.

"Tch," said the blonde-haired vizard, perched on the roof of a house above them. "I hate having to interfere in soul reapers' fights."

2:49 p.m.

It was a battle unlike Orihime had ever seen. And that was without even being able to see most of it.

They disappeared from view and reappeared just as quickly several meters away as they attempted to dodge each other's attacks. It was like watching a strange, deadly, choreographed dance.

Uryu was making attempts not to harm her, she knew, as none of the arrows landed anywhere near her. Ulquiorra, she was certain, was making no such efforts. In fact, it looked like he was hardly making an effort at all, so easily did he move, as if each action was perfectly calculated to exert the least amount of energy needed. On the other hand, Uryu looked as if he was starting to feel strain from the battle. He was beginning to react more and more slowly, with more of the arrancar's blows making contact.

She should run, Orihime knew, but she could not bring herself to tear her eyes away from the fight. Uryu may not have been a close friend, but she felt a kind of connection with him and more than anything she wanted to help. If only there was something she could do. If the battle continued to progress as it was, he would certainly lose. And losing the battle would mean losing his life.

She wished for Kensei. Would he come looking for her? Did he know she was in danger?

Uryu grunted as Ulquiorra's foot made contact with his side and he stumbled back. The arrancar had a sword at his waist that he had not touched. He was just playing with him, like a cat with a mouse.

Orihime cast her gaze about her, looking for anything that she could use as a weapon, or at the very least, something that could distract him and give the quincy a chance to land an attack. There was nothing, just grass, a few trees, and… Orihime's eyes landed on the crater. It didn't look more than a couple meters deep, but if she could lure him to the edge of it, maybe he would lose his footing and Uryu could take advantage of the opening.

It was better than nothing. She darted towards it, keeping low to the ground.

The figures had stopped moving. Uryu panted heavily while Ulquiorra stood calmly, looking exactly as he had before the battle. "This fight is pointless," he remarked, eyeing the worn-out quincy with distaste. "The outcome has already been decided."

Noticing movement in the corner of his eye, he flicked his gaze over to where Orihime was stealthily (she thought) making her way towards the indent he and Yammy had made in the earth upon their first arrival. He only glanced at her for a second, mildly curious about her odd behavior.

A second was all it took. Uryu took advantage of his distraction, rapidly nocking another arrow and firing it point blank.

Time slowed as Orihime darted across the field, Uryu released the arrow, and Ulquiorra vanished and materialized behind the quincy. Uryu had been stabbed only once before, during his quest to the soul society, but he had not forgotten the sensation of ice-cold blade cutting through flesh, this time protruding from his abdomen. He fell, silently.

Orihime looked over, hardly believing what she was seeing. The arrancar standing over Uryu, the carnal satisfaction of victory written on his face, his forefinger pointing down towards the fallen quincy, a ball of light forming on it.

She changed direction immediately, and without considering the wisdom of her new hastily-formed plan, charged the arrancar who was mere moments away from making his kill.

Fear gripped her, then let go. Her sense of urgency returned. This was why she had stayed.

A sudden heat filled her, from her head to the tips of her toes. Words, names came unbidden to her lips. She shouted them.

"I reject!"

Her ice-blue barrettes, carefully pinned to hold back her auburn locks, shone orange and burst into pieces.