I dearly acknowledge Mr. Kubo for his compelling characters. And also my beta, WordCubed.


Orihime turned her face to ensure the Dangai was completely sealed. Nemu disappeared shortly after leading her through the portal into the human world.

She was alone now.

I don't ever want to see that place again, she thought, uncertain about which of the two worlds her feelings applied to the most.

Still wearing the black-and-white garb of Las Noches, she stared in awe at her environment. It was night in Karakura Town, which gave her an opportunity to at least camouflage herself a little bit as she examined her surroundings.

The air was light.

She had grown so accustomed to the spirit-laden atmospheres of Soul Society and especially Hueco Mundo that she found she had cultivated a keenness of spirit. There was a clear difference in the air's density, and she hadn't even realized it until now. She felt several pounds lighter here, in both body and soul. As she breathed in the open air, she could feel the hopelessness that had followed her around in all those months start to chip away.

Home.

The emotion of returning to her hometown, the freedom from a death-obsessed society, and above all else the sense of safety, overwhelmed her. She grimaced and doubled over, having a good cry for many minutes. It was the first joyful set of tears she'd cried in over a year. When she realized this, she cried even harder.

Still sobbing, she headed to her small apartment, eagerly awaiting the steaming waters of a bathtub calling out her name. It took roughly two minutes to arrive at her apartment, and the sight of it in the silence of the night caused another lump to form in her throat. She just smiled past it, quite ready to leave her captive life behind.

She walked up her stairs and to her door, looking down at the floor as something odd caught her eye. Someone had changed her doormat. Tatsuki-chan? She felt around for a nook in the wall nearby where she hid a spare key. It's still there! She grabbed the key and fumbled with it as she unlocked the door to her dear, dear apartment.

Upon opening the door, the first thing she noticed was the smell. She expected staleness in the air, but instead she inhaled a strong cinnamon scent. It didn't feel right. She switched on the hallway light and what she saw astonished her.

What is this?! Someone changed my furniture!

She tiptoed into her living room with hesitant steps. All of her belongings were gone and replaced. What is this?!

Her bedroom light switched on.

Someone's here!

Unwilling to cede her territory to the likes of a thief, she braced herself. It had been a while since she had practiced her karate skills, but she may as well have gained her own special form of hierro in Hueco Mundo from everything she had endured. Her right foot stepped back into a front stance, and she set her fists in front of her face in defense.

"Who's there?" came a male voice from inside her room.

"I should ask the same question," Orihime replied, a little less stern in a growing realization of her circumstances.

"Be careful!" came a female voice from the same direction as the male's.

"Who are you?" Orihime asked, in an even less threatening tone.

The living room light switched on, revealing a young man about the age of 25. He had a bat in his hand. Orihime stepped back a bit.

"Who are you?!" he barked.

"This is my apartment…" Orihime looked around her surroundings in helpless realization at the pictures, furniture, and obnoxious décor. This was no longer her home.

"What are you talking about? My wife and I have been living here for the past six months! How did you get in here?"

"My…spare key…" Orihime replied helplessly. "I…used to live here?"

The woman now came out of the hallway to join the male.

"Get out of our apartment!" she shouted.

"I—I'm sorry, I've been away for…a really long time…I thought I still lived here! I'll leave. Please, don't call the police!"

Orihime bowed and darted out the door before either of them could do anything to stop her. She ran in no particular direction for many blocks.

I have no home…where am I going to go? How did this happen? My aunt must have stopped making payments since I've been gone for so long!

The flood of reality swiftly overwhelmed her—no home, no money, no belongings—all of these were things she hadn't thought about for almost a year. She'd operated under the assumption of certain death or a radically changed life that whole time. Spotting a nearby bench, she ran towards it and drew both of her hands to her mouth.

Think, Orihime, think! There must be somewhere you can go…you can't be homeless…you'll just contact your aunt…oh, but she won't give me any money now that I've skipped school for so long! What am I going to tell her? That I was a prisoner in a ghost world? How am I going to survive in the world without going to university?! No school in Japan will ever accept me after a ten-month absence! Where can I go?! What am I going to do?!

She thought of Tatsuki. She dearly wanted to see her best friend again, but how would she begin to explain herself? She was too exhausted to even think about the prospect of having to explain her whereabouts for the past ten months, especially after the ordeal she had just faced with Nemu. She was seriously considering sleeping on the bench when a thought, worn in the old synapses of her mind—more out of habit than anything else—came to her.

What about Kurosaki-kun's house?

She stood in silence, staring in the direction of Ichigo's house, but her body would not move. The blaring memory of Kurosaki in his ominous hollow form shattered any hope of comfort around him. Fleeing to Kurosaki's house would only make things more difficult. She'd been separated from her friends for the brutal interrogation Nemu conducted. All of her friends had already been sent—likely forced—home. They had no way of knowing where she was. She didn't really expect that Soul Society would care to alert anyone in the human world as to her arrival.

Her distress rose as she turned to face the bench once again, but as she turned, she was startled to find a black cat sitting upon it. Its eyes were razor-sharp, with an almost human emotion.

Then the cat spoke. In a rich, male voice.

"Inoue-san."

Initially startled, it took her a moment to remember what it was. "Yoruichi-san!" Orihime yelped, walking closer to the cat.

"Did you just arrive?"

"Yes! No…a little while ago, I…found my…my home…it's gone."

Yoruichi jumped from the bench to the ground.

"Yes, we know. It was sold a month after you disappeared."

Orihime tried not to let the hurt show on her face. She couldn't believe her aunt had acted so quickly.

"How are you? We've been trying to rescue you for quite a while."

"How did you find me?" Orihime stifled a sob.

Another male voice from behind her answered, "We have our ways."

Without looking up, Orihime named the voice. "Urahara-san!" She ran to the man and flung her arms around him. The first embrace she felt comfortable giving anyone.

"Inoue-san…" Kisuke grunted as she held fast to him. But he rested a hand on her shoulder until she broke away. He grinned at her cheerily, but it did not meet his darkened eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept in months.

Orihime bit her lip. "I'm sorry, but I'm so happy to see you. Both of you. You're the first people I've seen here in the human world. I just ran here after I found out about my home." She paused. "Have I really been gone for ten months?"

"Yes," Kisuke replied, his voice a bit tight.

"I thought about sleeping on the bench," she chuckled, her voice simultaneously breaking.

"Like hell! You're coming home with us," said Yoruichi.

"What? I—"

Yoruichi cut her off. "Staying with your human friends isn't really an option for you at this point. You need time to compose yourself. To get your life together. And your own room. You've been trapped for almost a year. You can leave whenever you want, but we have resources you won't find anywhere else, and you are welcome with us. That's why we came to look for you."

Orihime's eyes burned. "I can't accept that—"

"Ah, but you will!" Kisuke chirped.

"Yes, you will," Yoruichi echoed in a voice so firm, Orihime could only take it as a command. Gratefully.

"I—Thank you," was all she could muster.

The cat nodded and turned with graceful ease toward Kisuke's shop.

"The shop is about a ten-minute walk from here. Let's head back, and we can talk more when we're home."

Home. The thought rang in her mind.

Orihime followed Kisuke and Yoruichi towards her new home.

.oOo.

Yoruichi, still in her cat form, tiptoed in after Kisuke and Orihime. "Just give me a minute…I'll be in the kitchen in a few minutes. Give her some tea, Kisuke. She looks like she could use something to warm her up."

"I was just thinking that. Have a seat by the table, Inoue-san, and tell us what you feel like telling us."

"I don't want to wake anyone up!" Orihime whispered.

As Orihime followed Kisuke to the kitchen, Tessai appeared in the doorway.

Orihime's eyes locked on him. She hadn't had a great deal of interactions with the man, but she remembered how he cried tears of joy whenever someone acknowledged the organized state of the shop, and she briefly considered complimenting the house just so she could see his endearing reaction. As he entered the kitchen, for whatever reason, she felt at peace. Perhaps it was because he was one of the few people she'd ever met who complimented her cooking, or perhaps it was because his presence resonated familiarity and a stern sort of kindness. Seeing his silhouette in the hallway light solidified the reality of her liberty.

"Tessai-san," Orihime whispered, her voice breaking. "I hope we didn't wake you up."

"We've all been up, Inoue-san, waiting for your return." He paused. "We'd almost lost hope."

Orihime just stood there, feeling the warmth of her tears traveling down her cheeks. To her it felt unreal just being in that kitchen, in the safety of some of the most powerful shinigami she'd ever met. Orihime could only weep at his words—out of loss. Out of hope. Tessai walked a few steps toward her and put a hand on her shoulder in silent consolation.

Yoruichi joined them again in her night clothes. She gave a slight yawn.

"Yeah, better make it some strong tea for all of us. This is going to be a long night."

Orihime looked down at her hands, at her dress, and could not help but feel remorse about her betrayal. But no one said anything about her clothes. She did not receive any of the same hate-filled stares that came from some of the shinigami in Seireitei.

Tessai served cookies, and these Orihime could not resist. She lunged at several at once, excusing herself for her rudeness as she chomped on the sweetness in her mouth.

"It's been too long since I've had these!" She gulped them down, with crumbs falling out of her mouth. "I took so much for granted when I lived here…" she gave them a sad chuckle.

She was met with grave but encouraging looks.

"I…haven't been treated this kindly in a long time. Thank you for your hospitality."

As Orihime chewed some more, she looked down at her lap and once more remembered the state of her clothes. She almost choked. "I…apologize about my clothes…"

"You were taken captive, Inoue-san…we already know everything. You receive no judgment from us," Tessai said.

"As though we're in any place to pass judgment," Yoruichi yawned, reclining by the table. "Seireitei is filled with a bunch of jackasses. I'm not surprised they took this long to get their act together. We are the ones who should be apologizing to you. I TOLD them to notify us immediately upon your arrival to Karakura Town," Yoruichi said, suddenly moving closer to the table and pounding her fist at told. "We were hoping to explain some of what's been going on…but," Yoruichi knit her brows together. "You've already found your apartment."

"Yes." Orihime was always amazed at how much this group knew about the secrets and goings-on of Soul Society. At the moment, she was too tired to ask about it. She was also too tired to talk about her ordeal, but they seemed to know more than Nemu.

"We've been attempting rescue missions since you left," said Yoruichi "The dimension rifts gave us problems. Kisuke worked on alternative routes to Hueco Mundo to try to get to you sooner, but…Soul Society opposed our efforts. Don't believe you were abandoned." She stopped to look Orihime dead in the face. She then gave Kisuke a quick glance and looked back at Orihime. "How…are you faring?"

Orihime looked around at all of their faces, at the gravity in their eyes. They looked at her like they were trying to recall what she'd looked like before her kidnapping—it was the same look Ishida had given her when he had asked if they had fed her. Finally, Yoruichi broke the silence again after Orihime did not answer.

"You should know that it was hard to miss your absence while you were gone. It really motivated us to go after you as hard as we could. I think the ghost stories are what eventually got some of the people in Seireitei to look the other way at your rescue."

"Ghost stories? What are you talking about?"

"Yes, you are the 'missing redhead' of Karakura Town!" Kisuke replied. "Everyone knows you've been missing because you've been on the news. Most thought you were dead. People reported 'sightings' of a girl matching your description after you had been gone a while, but that actually turned out to be another soul that looked kind of like you. You were even the subject of a Don Kanoji episode!"

She gasped. "Don Kanoji talked about me!?"

"Yup! And it wasn't just TV—you made the newspapers, internet, everything! You're a star, Inoue-san!" Urahara's eyes gleamed with his old mischief. "It was a big story for a while before people moved on to other news. Actually, there were some pretty funny theories about your disappearance." He stretched over to a pile of newspapers on the ground and plopped them in front of Orihime. "All these are about you."

All of these stories were about her! Orihime thumbed through the pile, reading some of the headlines.

Missing Redhead! Vanished Without a Trace!

Auburn-haired High-Schooler was Top of Class – Tragic Story of the Disappearance of Orihime Inoue!

Missing Girl's Sole Surviving Family Member: Please Find My Niece!

"Unbelievable!" she said, shaking her head at the last headline. "Reading these will be interesting…um…do you know who has my belongings?"

Yoruichi answered, "Most of it was sold. But your friend, the short girl with the black hair, took the important stuff." Yoruichi blinked a few times and gave Kisuke an odd look, but Orihime couldn't read it.

"Tatsuki-chan?! Does she know what happened to me? Is everyone OK? What happened to the town when Aizen-sama attacked?"

Tessai, Yoruichi, and Urahara exchanged looks at Orihime's question, but it was Yoruichi who named the fault.

"-sama?"

Orihime knitted her brows before realizing what she said. She blinked, and her face fell.

"I'm…sorry. I'm just so used to…"

What little color was left in her face drained away. She was beginning to realize just how deeply being Aizen's prisoner had affected her.

"When Grimmjow-kun fought Kurosaki-kun," Orihime mumbled, "he said something. I didn't want to believe it, but…he said that something inside me was 'messed with.'"

No one responded to her.

"I tried to stay true to myself when I was there. I did everything in my power to protect my nakama. But I also…had to buy time while I was there. I lived among the hollows, and I did what I had to do to stay alive. But, and I say this with all my heart, I thought of my friends first. I never would have turned on them. But I also did what I had to, to survive."

"And what did you do?" Yoruichi asked, her voice stern.

"Please don't make me talk about it." Orihime slowly clutched at her chest, clutched with all her might, as though she was hanging on to something that would never return.

Orihime broke when Yoruichi placed her hand on Orihime's shoulder, and the three shinigami gave her helpless looks as she started crying.

At last, Orihime spoke again. "I promise I'll tell you everything when I'm ready, but I can't. I can't. I can't. Not now."

"When you're ready," Tessai offered.

Orihime thought about her long months of training. About how she'd spent those long months training to fight against the people now feeding her cookies and serving her tea. She stared at the table in front of her with distant eyes. "I don't deserve your kindness. I should never have come here."

Orihime shifted her feet from under her in an attempt to get up, but she was stopped by Yoruichi's firm hand on her shoulder.

"Sit."

"I don't deserve your kindness," Orihime said again. Her eyes had not moved from the spot on the table.

"Kisuke!" Yoruichi snapped.

Kisuke cleared his throat. "Inoue-san, my shop is a place for Soul Society rebels! You're one of us now."

Orihime lifted her eyes to the shopkeeper.

"Remind us to tell you one day of how we were kicked out of Seireitei for plotting with Aizen."

"What?" Orihime felt her stomach flop.

"All a misunderstanding, of course, but well, now you know how these things go. He was a sneaky one," Urahara reflected, shaking his head and glancing to the side. "Did you know he was always stealing my inventions?"

"What?"

"The Hogyoku was mine, actually."

"This is no time to show off, Kisuke," Yoruichi admonished. "Inoue-san needs rest. Just look at her!"

At that, Orihime's eyes glazed back to the table. "Do I really look that different?"

It was Tessai who answered her. "You look subdued, Inoue-san. As though captivity has dimmed your spirit."

"But what better way to fire it up again than staying with us?" Urahara chirped, his characteristic grin giving Orihime much-needed hope.

"Do you really mean I can live here?"

"As long as you want. My shop has always been a haven for Soul Society outcasts. So you'll actually fit into our team pretty neatly."

Team. Another word that echoed in Orihime's mind. Part of a new teama good team. She could only give three quick nods and swallow the lump in her throat.

.oOo.

An exhausted Orihime nestled into the covers of the bed in her new room. Yet even as her body pulled her into sleep, her mind would not follow. She lay awake, adjusting to the truth that she was finally free from her prison in Las Noches. She wondered what life would be like now that she had regained her precious freedom. But she also wondered how she was ever going to recover from her losses.

She tried to stop her mind from wandering, not wanting to remember what had transpired atop the dome in Las Noches, but she couldn't help it. Despair was her sole emotion when she felt Ulquiorra reveal his second release. She hadn't known about that form. It was powerful beyond measure, and not something he'd chosen to reveal during training.

Training. Training for what? she thought in bitter reason. For Ulquiorra to waste his time so thoroughly seemed odd to her. He had diligently navigated her away from weakness, and for what? Bait? It made little sense.

Orihime pulled her blankets closer to her chin as she recalled traveling up with Ishida and encountering the familiar, yet foreign, wave of reiatsu beyond the dome. She sensed imminent death looming above them, and she knew, as soon as she felt the latter rain of spirit power, that Ulquiorra had made up his mind to slaughter her shinigami friend. She didn't understand how she was supposed to recover from witnessing such barbarity—both from Ulquiorra and Ichigo. How would she recover from the memory of hearing herself deliver desperate screams, begging Ulquiorra to spare Ichigo's life, only to be snubbed by his unmistakable schadenfreude?

How would she recover from witnessing Ichigo falling to his death like a dog?

Orihime's whimpers broke the stillness of the room as she recounted images of Kurosaki's hollow foot crushing Ulquiorra's neck, of Ulquiorra's body callously torn in half, and of Kurosaki staking his sword through Ishida's chest, the ultimate symbol of his loss of consciousness.

Ulquiorra's words signaling his defeat, his wish for death, his decisive declaration that his life was meaningless.

Orihime sobbed into the softness against her chin.

She also could not ignore Ulquiorra's heartless drive to kill through all of it—the way he had submitted to wrath! He exhibited a ruthlessness so foreign that even now she couldn't reconcile it with the coolness she had come to know so well.

She knew she wouldn't easily move past his death. Something had overtaken him during his final fight. She had been terrified that Ichigo would die after Ulquiorra had led him to the roof of Las Noches, where Ulquiorra had trained her so many times. Had Ulquiorra picked that location on purpose, to mock her?

Orihime and Kurosaki had crossed paths just after Aizen's defeat, and he hadn't addressed his behavior towards her at all. She couldn't really blame him for his survival. But her opinions of Kurosaki had curdled to an immense degree.

Ichigo slaughtered Ulquiorra. She could not deny this.

After she had awoken the evil inside of him. Had her long months in Hueco Mundo given her the power to draw out such a beast? Was it some twisted consequence of having allied herself with the villainy of Las Noches? Who was really at fault for Ulquiorra's death—Ichigo? Herself? Or was Ulquiorra ultimately at fault for attacking in uncharacteristic indignation?

Orihime grabbed the hair on her forehead, unsure about the correct emotion to feel. Was any of it just? It certainly was not fair.

Then her thoughts drifted to the mystifying moments just before Ulquiorra had dissipated into ash. She wanted to believe that he had revealed something to her. When he reached out to her, was he finally reciprocating her affection? As much as she wanted to latch on to this hope, she dared not do it for many reasons—the primary one being that he was now dead. She would never get a chance to ask him her burning questions. And with that thought, her sorrow peaked.

As she recalled the disappearing flecks of black, Orihime's pitiful cries emerged from the depths of her shattered heart. She hadn't even cried like this when her brother passed away.

.oOo.

"Taicho, we're getting readings of powerful reiatsu remnants from that direction," a shinigami of the Twelfth Squad advised. He held out a highly specialized reiatsu analyzer in his left hand and pointed west with his other hand, towards the vast expanse following Las Noches.

"Yes, I feel it," rasped Mayuri Kurotsuchi with a sardonic grin. Interesting that a battle should occur so far away from Aizen's headquarters.

"Let's head over there." Without batting an eye, he called after his daughter. "Nemu. Bring more flasks from my laboratory at once."

"Yes, sir."

Excited to stumble upon another new discovery, Mayuri reached into his robes and pulled out a small contraption. He pushed a few buttons in a sequential order and released it on the ground. In seconds, a dimensional rift opened up, revealing his intended destination. Mayuri and his subordinates walked into the rift and landed squarely within the middle of a colossal, earth-shattering crater stretching many miles in every direction.

"Fascinating," Mayuri exclaimed in a low whisper. His subordinates—with the exception of Nemu, who had left to carry out her father's order—followed him into the crater. There was scorched sand everywhere, seared by an unknown source.

One of the lower seats whistled. "It looks like a meteor struck this place!"

"Obviously not a meteor," Mayuri countered, entranced by the damage. He shot his eyes around his surroundings, envisioning several different explanations of the spectacle before them. Great spiritual power caused this. It's staggering. It dwarfs the size of Las Noches many times over...and Las Noches looks like it would take days just to get from one end to another.

His subordinates stared at him without a word as he bent down to collect some of the sand. He slowly rolled it around in his hand.

"Light," he ordered.

Immediately, a subordinate walked over to him and shined a light onto his palm, revealing hints of a third color among the fine grains.

"Flecks of green opal…" Mayuri observed. "By the feel of it, some sort of tangible reiatsu? I've never seen such a thing. What a find…" He smiled as he pulled out an empty vial from his robes. He opened the vial and carefully guided the sand and ash and green specks from his palm into the small container. He looked around his surroundings again and thought for a few more seconds. A battle did not occur here, though this seems to be the damage of a powerful weapon. His eyes shot to the east. Judging by the impact, it came from Las Noches.

"See to it that no stone is unturned. Gather as many samples as you can. I simply must know what caused this."