A/N: Here it is! Leave a review :)

2:58 p.m.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

After years of waiting, of hoping, her powers had finally revealed themselves to her. She could do actual good now, and no longer be a burden to her friends and family. She could protect the ones she cared for.

She'd had no idea that trying to help her friends would come at such a cost.

She'd certainly had no idea her powers would manifest themselves this way, into beings with unique personalities and fragile physical bodies that could be so easily damaged or destroyed.

And now Tsubaki was gone.

It was over in seconds. The aggressive little bandanna-wearing sprite had hovered impatiently at her side, his body coiled like a spring. As soon as she'd recited the words, he'd shot forward like a bullet from a gun. He had looked so beautiful and otherworldly, wrapped in that glowing orange light, and in that moment Orihime had finally felt like she was a part of something important.

Ulquiorra had caught him in one hand and shredded him to pieces with just a thought. There had been nothing left of him.

The arrancar examined the space the tiny fairy had just occupied with mild interest. "Was that supposed to be an attack? Pathetic."

Orihime stared in disbelief. She had not expected it to hurt, but she felt Tsubaki's death with a pain that was too visceral. She doubled over, clutching her stomach. "No…!"

The others swirled around her head in distress at having lost a comrade, though Shun'o and Ayame stayed at Uryu's side where they had him enfolded in a soft light. She called them to her in desperation, anxious to at least keep the others safe. In less than an instant, they were folded back in their original form of a hairclip pinned to her hair.

Ulquiorra noted this impassively. "It looks like you have reached the limit of your abilities, strange as they are. Lord Aizen will surely want to examine them once I take you to him."

Orihime couldn't have run even if she'd wanted to. Ulquiorra was at her side in less than a second and she found herself being lifted off the ground by the collar for the second time that day.

"Let go!" she clawed at his arm again, more weakly this time.

"You struggle in vain, human. There will be no one else coming for you." Orihime could hear the victory in his voice.

She agreed with him, bitterly.

His left hand still holding her in the air, he cast his right arm to the side. The air shimmered at his fingertips and then cracked open into a gaping maw, like that of some monstrous beast. Orihime shuddered as she looked into it and saw only blackness—an inky swirling darkness that filled her with dread. Where did this entryway lead if not to the deepest reaches of the underworld? And this creature holding her aloft—he was to be the demon escorting her to the evil place.

Her body screamed at her in protest—she could not go there.

Clutching tighter at the arm that held her, she struggled once more, landing a kick on the arrancar's side. She might as well have kicked a brick wall for all the good it did her. God, what was his skin made of? Her toes throbbed in protest.

His piercing gaze fixed on her again, and Orihime could tell he had run out of however little patience he'd had to begin with.

"You—" he began, but before he could finish what was to be either a curse or a reprimand, he was cut short for the second time that day.

"Orihime!" came a shrill voice from behind her.

Ulquiorra's irritation was palpable now. Orihime guessed he was not someone who was used to being interrupted.

"Hiyori!" Orihime could have sobbed in relief. She had never been so happy to see the smallest member of her family, clad in her typical mismatched jumpsuit-sandal combo with her snaggle-tooth poking out from her upper lip which was now pulled back into a scowl deeper than usual.

"Put her down you monster! Before I rip you to shreds!" the tiny vizard screeched, pointing an accusing finger at him. Her ponytails shook with anger.

The arrancar did not seem the least bit affected by the blonde woman's threats.

"I do not have time for this. Leave, if you have no desire to be annihilated."

Hiyori charged, sword drawn, battle cry on her lips. There was a loud clang as Ulquiorra met her weapon with his own and they stood for a moment, swords locked, Hiyori glaring, the arrancar staring back derisively. Though she gripped her sword with both hands and her opponent with only one, as the other was still holding a struggling Orihime aloft, Hiyori was alarmed at how quickly she was losing ground.

She cursed mentally. Rarely had she sparred with anyone with this much strength—not Shinji or Kensei or even that Ichigo brat could compare—and the arrancar's mocking eyes were telling her she was just being played with. Her scowl deepened. She would make him pay for underestimating her. Did he have any idea who she was? Did he know whose family he was messing with?

She broke contact and jumped back several meters. She would show him something he had never seen before.

She formed her mask as she had a thousand times before, the gold of her irises glinting through each eye slit. To his credit, Ulquiorra showed no surprise.

"Try and annihilate me now, arrancar!" came the double-timbre voice, and Hiyori charged again.

The air rushed out of Orihime's lungs as she hit the ground hard and lay on her back for a moment, dazed, and registered that she had been dropped. She rolled to her side quickly, eyes searching for the tiny ponytailed figure. She located her quickly and her heart leapt into her mouth.

The shards of Hiyori's mask lay shattered about her. The vizard knelt, stunned, as Ulquiorra's hand slowly raised until it was level with her head. It started to glow.

No! Orihime's body screamed. She had already lost one piece of herself today and she wouldn't lose another.

She shouted the names of her Shun Shun Rikka and recited their kotodama before even making the conscious decision to do so. A single barrette exploded into three droplets of light and darted toward the still paralyzed woman, forming a glowing barrier between her and the imminent attack.

What Hiyori had thought of her unexpected salvation, Orihime would never know. When the light faded and the vizard looked up, she was gone.

3:04 p.m.

Grimmjow crouched, readying his body for the attack. Leaping forward, he swung his sword to the side, the blade beginning to glow blue. This would be over quickly. He grinned wildly at the mask-wearing blonde-haired man in front of him as he began to form the words, "Gri—"

He was cut off abruptly as a column of golden light from the heavens slammed into the earth around him. It was the negación. The mission had finished—much sooner than he had thought.

But his hadn't. He hardly cared what Ulquiorra came here to do and he resented every inch his body rose upwards. He had come here to kill that fucking soul reaper boy, and there he was still crouched on the pavement, badly wounded but still breathing. He imagined ripping a hole through the golden beam and then through the soul reaper's chest, ending him for good.

Imprisoned as he now was in the impenetrable negación, such action was impossible. But Grimmjow, inclined as he was to act rashly in the occasional fit of rage, was as much hunter as he was hollow. He knew better than anyone that stalking prey took patience and cunning, and he had plenty of both.

He could wait.

They locked eyes. As Ichigo watched him steadily ascend an overwhelming sense of déjà vu swept over him. This was the second time his battle with the arrancar had been interrupted and he could read his opponent's mind clear as day. This isn't over.

He wondered if his eyes said the same.

He vaguely registered other pillars of light scattered around town encapsulating other arrancar he'd assumed had been battling the soul reapers who had been stationed here. He wondered if those fights had gone better than his. A part of him dreaded finding out.

Shinji sighed and took off his mask, dissolving it with a thought.

"Whew! Well that was interesting. Haven't had a fight like that in a while."

He turned and looked at the two soul reapers who stared back at him. Shinji narrowed his eyes at them critically.

"You both look like you've been run over by a bus," he said bluntly. Rukia blinked at him. Ichigo looked away huffily.

"We'd better get you back to Hachi so he can fix you up—and make sure Orihime doesn't see you," he said, pointing at Ichigo, whose hakama was ripped and bloodied in several places and whose hand still bore evidence of a recent stabbing. "She'll freak."

Ichigo's lip twitched as he imagined the orange-haired girl's reaction. She would fuss and dote on him and scold him for being reckless, as she did at the end of many of his training sessions. Ichigo would scowl and tell her not to worry so much while secretly enjoying the attention.

But no matter how he looked, she was always so happy to see him for some reason Ichigo couldn't fathom. He remembered how her face would light up with the brightest smile reserved just for him every time he walked into a room.

His stomach did a flip-flop and he stood up quickly.

"We'd better hurry."

3:08 p.m.

Uryu opened his eyes.

He lay for a moment on the hard ground, taking in his surroundings. A blade of grass a few centimeters from his nose came into sharp focus. He examined it for a moment as it swayed delicately in a light breeze.

He turned his head up towards the sky, which was an almost blinding shade of blue. A single puffy white cloud drifted by lazily. Cumulus, he thought to himself absent-mindedly.

Why was he lying here? He couldn't remember.

He closed his eyes again.

His head swam with vertigo as he quickly heaved himself to a sitting position.

The arrancar! Orihime! What had happened?

He brought his hand down to his abdomen where he had been stabbed. His formerly crisp white shirt had been torn and stained with blood when the arrancar's blade had pierced him. But he felt no pain nor break in his skin. The only explanation was that his injuries had been healed. But how? And by who?

The situation puzzled him so greatly that it took a few moments for him to realize that he was not alone. Just a stone's throw away were a pair of figures that looked vaguely familiar, though he could not imagine where he had seen them.

A small blonde woman crouched on the ground, her hand outstretched, her expression dumbstruck. A silver-haired man stood next to her shouting.

"How?! How could you have let this happen?!"

She gave no answer and he fell to the ground, defeated, his fists slamming into the earth. Uryu thought he had never seen anyone look so broken. Unbidden, an image flashed before his eyes of Ichigo lying on the pavement in the rain, arm outstretched after a woman who was long gone. He pushed it away.

A sense of dread filled him. He stood and willed his body to move in the direction of the couple. His presence went unacknowledged.

This man—this woman—didn't they belong to—

He stumbled closer, and his heart sank in his chest as he realized what she was holding in her hand.

It was a single blue hairclip.