Hi everyone! Tomorrow, it will officially be two years since I posted this story. In celebration of that, I wrote this massive chapter. I apologize for the wait. I am a little hesitant to post this chapter, because it has numerous parts to it. Please let me know if it is a bit too much.

Also, another aspect of this chapter that I am very anxious about is Ulquiorra's transition to a more "involved" character. As you may all know, the Ulquiorra we all know and love is very distant and stoic. However, it would be difficult to have romance in a romantic comedy fiction if he remains that way. Thus, I am going to attempt to make him open up in a, hopefully, natural and believable manner. Chapter 25 is one example. If Ulquiorra is too out of character in this chapter, tell me! If it bothers you that his character is not true to the Bleach persona of Ulquiorra, tell me! I will try my hardest to fix whatever Ulquiorra personality complaints you all have. There is no obvious instance in Bleach where Ulquiorra acts like he is in love with anyone, so I am just going off of my instinct and imagination.

Enjoy. Happy second anniversary to "Let the Night Rise and Fall."

-O-

Chapter 25:

The Rising Knight

It was still their second day in Hueco Mundo, but what began as a day of relaxation changed rapidly into one of mortification. Grimmjow had been stripped of his position as her teacher. Now, she was left with the person that she had incessantly tried to avoid and forget. Ulquiorra, from their interaction while on their way to Las Noches, was aware of her attempts to seclude herself from him. Even so, she could not allow herself to experience the same kind of pain she had already endured from both her former friends and the ashen male himself.

She stared at the two swords in her hands.

"Here's your order you bastard," Grimmjow glared at his rival while tossing the extra weapon in the air.

Ulquiorra caught it with ease. After Grimmjow, who was muttering obscenities, left through the portal for the second time, the ashen man turned and extended his hand, the blade securely held within it, towards her.

"Two wakizashis?" she inquired while snaking her fingers around the second weapon.

She ignored the slight sensations that coursed through her nerves when her skin made contact with his cool ones. At the touch, she felt the lock imprisoning her feelings slowly decay.

Ulquiorra, still passive as ever, responded, "I noticed that you are slightly ambidextrous. I intend to fully use that to improve your fighting prowess. However, your left hand is far superior to your right. I will ensure to amend that imbalance."

Grimmjow had taken Orihime back to the world of the living, leaving them to train in solitude in Hueco Mundo. The panther had roared in laughter as he exited with a fidgeting princess lagging behind him. In between his fits of glee, he reassured her that the "bat alone can easily protect you in Hueco Mundo while you learn how to fight." The key word that had stuck to her was "alone." She would be left on her own with only Ulquiorra at her side. The idea was daunting and frightening.

Ulquiorra stood before her, his hands shoved into the pockets of his flowing pants. She still could not mange to look at him properly without blushing. His new clothes thoroughly framed his handsome features. As he looked at her with those commanding earthy orbs, Sayuri felt the pressure to perform well. Even though she knew that she should not feel the need to prove herself and impress him, it was all she wanted. She desired nothing else in that moment than to show him that she was more than some human damsel who was incapable of properly taking care of herself. She had never been an overly proud person, but this time was different. Her pride as a human woman was on the line.

She set her arms back to her sides, a wakizashi securely held on each hand. Her body began to execute the routine that Ulquiorra had showed her minutes earlier. She applied the knowledge that Grimmjow had given her, but having two swords greatly altered the battle movements that she had initially been drilled on. She needed to learn this new deadly dance.

"The performance of your right hand is less than satisfactory. It is slower, and its grip on the wakizashi is weaker than its counterpart," he commented when she was done.

"Yes. I know," the raven woman admitted, "Just tell me what I need to do to correct and improve it."

"Very well."

Thus, Sayuri began a series of one handed push-ups and strength training on her unexceptional side. She failed disastrously. She had never possessed much upper body strength, let alone enough power to successfully consummate a single handed pushup with her non-dominant arm. Each time she had attempted to go up or down on the push up, she fell miserably on her face. Then, she would reset herself, crash again, and the cycle would start anew.

The strength training was just as pathetic. It included pulling boulders with her right hand. That, too, was unsuccessful.

Her blue orbs stared at the large piece of rock, which was half her height. Her right hand fisted over the rope wrapped around the white mass. She readied herself and pulled again, the soles of her feet digging into the soft sand underneath. It was hard enough having to work with her inferior arm, but the unstable ground did not help any. She pulled with more force. The rock stubbornly did not move.

"Stop," she heard his order.

Immediately, she relaxed her posture and looked at him for instructions. He was walking towards her, face still blank, with the bag of equipment.

"What is it?"

He did not reply and merely took hold of her right hand. At his touch, she swiftly retracted her appendage and looked down.

"Give me your hand."

She flinched at the demanding quality and roughness of his voice. He had not spoken loudly, but the command could not be denied. Reluctantly, she placed her hands, palms down, in his. She could not meet his eyes in fear that she would see distaste in them - disapproval towards her human weakness. She settled her oceanic orbs on the bland ground, finding its invariable appearance calming.

Ulquiorra turned her hand over to look at the skin of her palm. It was dotted with open sores and reddened areas from the coarse rope. Some parts were even bleeding. He had seen her face contort in agony as she tugged on the rope with all her might. Just from the feel of her soft skin, he knew that her hands had never been subjected to such harsh conditions. Since their first meeting, he had deduced that she was a fragile creature with equally fragile features. She was not meant to endure battle and training; her body was not made for it like Soul Reapers or hollows were.

Quietly and efficiently, he covered the abused skin with the salve and wrapped it in bandages. Urahara was what he would deem as a highly suspicious person, but ironically, he was also very reliable. The large backpack he had given Grimmjow was well supplied with human food, medicine, and equipment.

Sayuri could not help but divert her attention to Ulquiorra's skillful hands. For some reason, she felt a sense of déjà vu overcome her. The young maiden thought hard at what could possibly be triggering it. The curiosity was gnawing at her consciousness, irritating her to no end. Finally, like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle, a memory came into place: the time when she had been changing in the bathroom before heading over to Urahara's shop.

Sapphire jewels analyzed the white gauze wrapped around her battered hands. She knew she had not put them on before she had taken her nap. Even if she had wanted to, she had been far too exhausted to do anything else but sleep. Grimmjow's training had stolen all her energy.

"How did these get - " she spoke to herself, but the time on the clock shocked her.

"I'm going to be late!" she squealed. Her legs were not healed yet, so she knew that she would be painstakingly and slowly limping towards her destination.

As quickly as she was able to, she left the bathroom and exited the house.

'That's right. I'd completely forgotten,' she recalled, 'Tessai even removed the bandages while he was healing me, but I had been so happy at feeling better that I had overlooked them. So who-'

"Learn to better care for yourself woman." Ulquiorra's baritone tongue forced her back to reality.

He let go of her hand, and gravity caused it to fall back to her side. Her eyes widened when the answer to her mental inquiry was evoked.

Surprised, she blurted out, "It was you."

Ulquiorra looked at her with his normal blank facade. "Would you care to elaborate on whatever it is that you believe I did?"

"You put the bandages on my hands while I was sleeping, didn't you?"

She suppressed the hopeful expression from surfacing in her features. Hope for her was the enemy after all.

"Your imagination needs to be controlled," he scolded her, "I would do no such thing."

Sayuri just gaped as he walked away. Her intuition, her heart, her whole being told her that he was lying.

'Why?'

The answer to the question was something she could not entirely fathom, but felt as if she did she did know. Her boy problems had made her a stranger - a puzzle - to her own self. When it came to matters of the heart, everything becomes blurred that it is even difficult to decode who you are. Love thus becomes a nearly impossible maze to solve. It was the ultimate enigma.

Unconsciously, she folded her bandaged hand over her heart.

"Start the footwork again," he commanded her while he was still retreating. Then, swerving around to face her, he said, "Do not use the wakizashis this time around. Let me see how well you have mastered the form."

She shook her head to clear the confusion that had fallen over her. She plastered on her will and determination, answering with a resolute, "Ok!"

Suppressing her internal struggles, she tried to focus at the task at hand.

The Kimura woman began the series of footwork, hand movements, and body poses that was taught to her just two hours ago. She clenched her teeth when she stumbled. At one moment, she felt her face reddened in both embarrassment and frustration when she realized she had forgotten the middle portion of the routine.

Before she could even finish, he had told her to stop.

She dropped her form, and with a slumped posture, swirled to meet his face.

"Your execution was poor to the point of being pitiful," Ulquiorra reprimanded her.

She felt her insides curl into a fetal position. She had been aware that her performance had been far from satisfactory. Being near him just ruined her concentration and made her a clumsy mess. She bit the inside of her lip; she, too, was disappointed at her own inability to perfect the new technique.

"As your punishment, go into the water and run five miles along the beach. I will tell you when you have finished each mile. Once you have consummated that task, you may rectify your earlier errors and practice the form again," the ashen male instructed her.

Sayuri nodded her head. Sauntering towards the ocean until the water was waist deep, she began her long jog. Even before she managed to complete her first mile mark, she felt exhaustion in her lungs and legs. The sand and the water made her pace like that of a turtle. The very act of jogging became arduous as well. Several large waves had bombarded her, causing her to lose her balance and fall pathetically into the salty body. Her wet tunic and loosened hair now stuck uncomfortably to her dampened skin.

Whenever she heard Ulquiorra's strong voice tell her how many miles she had done thus far, a sense of relief would flood her veins. Yet, even with the eccentric work out and the cries from her muscles, Sayuri's mind unceasingly wandered to the topic of the ashen hollow.

'I just don't understand him,' she reflected. 'One moment he is being kind and sweet and protective, and then the next, he is distant and cold... or he's with Orihime.'

"You have reached four miles," his sentence drifted to her half-listening ears.

'What are we? Friends? Acquaintances? Nothing?'

She unconsciously growled in frustration when her mind answered with a blank. For the rest of the distance, her thoughts could do nothing but brood and agonize over the source of her despair.

'I just don't understand,' was the only conclusion she was able to reach.

She stumbled back ashore, her sweat coating her physique. The water did not make the entire five miles refreshing. It made it more of a nightmare. Her poor toes were wrinkled from their long soak, while her legs were dead from overuse. Sayuri stood before her teacher, refusing to show weakness by collapsing onto her bottom.

"Take a seat," he told her. "Rest. I will tell you when I want you to practice the routine once more."

Sayuri wondered if she heard correctly. "Are you sure?"

Ulquiorra nodded. "Will and determination are important during training, but it is equally essential to know your body's limits. Do not overexert yourself unnecessarily woman."

She found it a little amusing how Grimmjow and Ulquiorra were polar opposites. Nevertheless, her old teacher, that morning, had essentially told her much the same thing as her current mentor about resting herself. She supposed every pair of opposites would have at least one commonality.

Ulquiorra towered behind her as she relaxed on the ground. He grasped that she would have remained on her feet had he not told her otherwise. She was a stubborn female, that much he was certain. The human woman faced the ocean, her legs stretched before her while her upper body, supported by her arms, leaned comfortably back.

The moon was rising, and the ethereal hues made her skin glow. Perspiration continued to dot her face as a result of her work out. His bat-like eyes randomly zeroed in on a bead of sweat on the side of her forehead. He watched as it cascaded down her blushing cheeks to her slender neck and into the folds of her drenched tunic. For some reason, his observation skills heightened as he absorbed the fascinating way the wet fabric, like a second skin, clung to her figure. Ulquiorra felt an unconscious and uncharacteristic gulp go down his throat.

Quickly, he shifted his attention to the moonrise.

'Odd,' he commented of his own behavior.

His mind, as sharp as it was, began to comprehend that his views towards the woman differed greatly from his relationship - or lack of it - towards other females. His usual nihilistic, distant, and guarded persona appears to metamorphose into something unrecognizable whenever he had to deal with her. He had even deceived her about bandaging her hands while she had been in her bedroom. Before he could entirely process the situation, his mouth had already formed that lie. Admitting the fact that he had indeed tended to her wounds was the same as portraying weakness, but his lack of control towards his own voice was irritating to say the least. He was always in control... but not around her.

Females, in his eyes, had just been the more inferior gender that were merely obstacles in his path. They were feeble creatures that did nothing but irritate and test his patience. However, he did not seem to group this woman into the same category as the rest of those feminine monstrosities he had encountered.

'Why?' he thought.

Another bead of sweat slid down her skin. Again, his gaze focused on the amorphous blob until it descended into her outfit's neckline. Again, he felt a gulp go down his throat.

"Ulquiorra," she called to him, "I'm ready to give the technique another shot."

He nodded. His thoughts were far too occupied with his revelation to form much of an answer.

Sayuri gave him a puzzled look, but began performing the movements in front of him nonetheless.

Ulquiorra was immediately pulled from his thoughts, his emerald jewels automatically watching her hesitant but determined movements. Reminiscing on his time with the woman, he discovered that his attention often diverted to her. He would defend himself though by claiming that he owed her for her hospitality. The fact that he had already paid that debt many times over was conveniently shoved to the back of his mind.

He stood transfixed by her movements. She is skinny and tall. Her long arms swayed in the sea breeze as if part of the waving wind itself. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, conveying her concentration. Her eyes, her magnificent cerulean spheres, were burning. He had never seen water set ablaze before. It was celestial.

His brows furrowed. His mind had strayed yet again. He detested this new and unforeseen rebellious nature in his head.

The most frightening revelation of it all was that the more he looked at her, the less he felt empty. The void that had comprised his identity for the centuries he had been aware was forming boundaries; it was no longer boundless.

'Why?' came the same question.

Even when he had died, that void had still been there.

In his final moments, his eyes landed on the figure of Orihime Inoue.

"Do I scare you, woman?" he had asked her, his arms reaching for her in the distance.

Her soft voice replied, "I am not afraid."

Her eyes were gentle, watching his disintegrating body as if in anguish that he was dying.

"I am not afraid," she repeated.

"I see..." he said, as he watched Orihime extend her own arms to meet his. As their skins touched, his hand, too, turned to ashes.

In his final moments, he had claimed, "Now, I see."

He stared at the right hand that he had extended towards the woman with god-like powers.

'At the time of my death, I concluded that I had found Orihime's heart in my hands. Having something aside from emptiness had been enough to take with me to the afterlife,' he recalled. 'However, where is my own heart? What does it mean? What is this heart?'

Yes, he had found Orihime's heart, but that did not lessen the emptiness of his own existence. His own heart had still been missing. The void had remained.

'Perhaps...'

He scrutinized the woman before him more intently.

He cognized, 'Perhaps, this woman is the key to finding the answers that I seek.'

Sayuri felt his gaze on her, but its intensity far exceeded his normal stares. She had thought that it would abate, but it only grew stronger.

Ulquiorra examined her as she consummated the routine. She craned her neck towards him, her expression asking for his approval. In her shining windows, on the other hand, he saw her latent question. She had realized that he had been analyzing her.

'If she is the key,' he speculated, 'I will need to unravel and analyze the enigma that is her existence.'

"Um," her sweet words left her mouth, "Did I do something wrong?"

His mind rapidly formulated a response. He would begin the process of solving this human riddle at once. First, a suitable conversation must be birthed.

Sayuri watched as the ashen man's attention focused on her choice - using the most loose definition of choice - of wardrobe.

"Why did you consent to wearing such an atrocious piece of clothing?" he articulated. It was the most believable question that he could ask under the given circumstances. Furthermore, hearing whatever answers she gave would provide insight regarding her reasoning and thoughts.

"Atrocious?" she squeaked in embarrassment at the negatively connotated word. She knew he was hiding something, but let it go. It would be impossible to force him to tell her. For some reason, it was easier to read his eyes now. His emotions and thoughts were still well-protected, but she could manage to see minute signs in his otherwise expressionless jewels. From this small miracle, she felt a little closer to him. "Is it that bad?"

Ulquiorra pointed out, "It is common courtesy to answer a question given to you before asking your own."

"Oh, right," she shrugged and explained, "Grimmjow just blackmailed me into it. He said he wouldn't teach me if I acted like a "delinquent student" who did not follow her teacher's commands."

"Why not change into a more proper attire now that I have supplanted his role as your mentor?" the next question smoothly slipped from his mouth.

She wagged her finger at him and shook her head. "Where is your common courtesy? Answer my question first 'before asking your own,'" she quoted him.

Sayuri thought a gleam of amusement shined in his orbs, but it was gone before she could clearly observe it.

He said, using his typical passiveness and monotonic tone, "Very well. I confess that the outfit is not as revealing as what other women I have seen adorn."

At his statement and the meaning behind it, she could not help her eyes from bulging out.

"You've been with women before?" she could not help but inquire.

He sighed, the first she had ever seen him do. "How easily you forget the concept of common courtesy woman," he stated, but continued, "but to answer your question, yes, I have. I am centuries old so it was inevitable."

Ulquiorra saw her mouth form the shape and make the sound of "Oh."

He did not miss the shades of shock and then disappointment and sadness that crossed her features. Her emotions were like a color gradient: smoothly transitioning from one form to another. He ignored the odd pang of guilt caused by his convenient lie, because seeing her various reactions and expressions helped in understanding her existence. He had indeed decided that he would find and understand his heart through this human woman.

"Now, as I was explaining before you interrupted," he proceeded, "The attire is atrocious because it presents you in a light contradictory to your own nature."

As inexperienced as he was with the world of color and light, the woman's innocence and purity were discernible to him - like the moon in the night. This light was at the base of her identity. She truly was an innocent and bright human being.

The raven haired male elaborated when a confused look passed her sapphire orbs. "It makes you look, as what common males with no control over their baser instincts say, seductive."

Ulquiorra had never been one to lie. He had almost always told the truth. Yet, he has already deceived the woman twice just that day. This time, however, he was honest. The truth, in this case, caused carmine to run a marathon up Sayuri's neck and into her already stained cheeks. He would not admit it, but it was mildly amusing. Her expression, once more, was rather intriguing in its own mundane human way.

"That's not such a bad thing, is it?" the flower murmured, her hands fumbling in shyness in front of her.

He had complimented her. Though she should not, it made her euphoric. She was soaring.

"Depends on the male. Kurosaki and the cat would undoubtedly have perverse thoughts of you," he again spoke his honest opinion.

Sayuri's face reddened more. He mentally noted that his words evidently cause odd reactions from this woman. He grew intent on examining this further.

Suddenly, Sayuri felt herself blurt out, "What about you?"

Ulquiorra had not expected that question, but kept his surprise at bay. Besides, he could easily use it for his own purpose. She, on the other hand, was an open book. Her expression shifted to that of regret, as if wishing to redo the moments that had just taken place.

It was oxymoronic that he could read her without much effort. However, he could not understand her.

He will solve her. Using his rationale and abilities, he will solve her. He will find his answers.

Confidently, he stepped forward until only a mere foot separated them. He dipped his head and whispered in her ear, "I find you to be celestial."

Sayuri gasped, thoroughly dazed.

Wanting answers, she pushed, "I thought you called it atrocious?"

Comprehending that the woman reacted most when he did something out of character, Ulquiorra kept his lips hovering above her ear. He wanted to find his answers as quickly as he was able to. As such, he would have to push his own limitations to pry useful reactions from the human woman he has deemed to be his key.

"Because I have no doubt of the indecent thoughts that would rush to the minds of males upon sight of you."

Each word and breath that left his mouth caused puffs of air to caress Sayuri's face, sending odd tingles up her spine. Ulquiorra felt the warmth emanating from her cheeks from the great amount of blood that surged forward. He analyzed her reaction.

'She indeed does react most when I perform an action towards her,' he deduced.

The Kimura child could hear the rapid beating of her heart. Right at that point, she knew that she had compromised her promise to herself. Yet, dare she believe it, he made her feel beautiful and wanted. The abandonment, scars, and low self-esteem that Hiro and Mai had bestowed upon her were healing under his words. Ulquiorra was her natural salve.

Sayuri began to feel grateful towards her former teacher for blackmailing her into the clothing she had so adamantly refused. She owed Grimmjow for the tunic, but soon, she realized that it was all the work of the white attire and not her own.

At the revelation, she murmured, "It's all thanks to this outfit I supposed."

The ashen man, through his keen and perceptive ears, detected the dejected tone.

He sighed again, his deep breath brushing the skin of her ear. Another sensation went up her spine, and her thoughts became a jumbled mess.

"You are foolish, woman," he uttered, "The outfit merely enhances what you were born with. With or without it, your appearance will remain as it always has been."

She turned her head to gawk at him in disbelief, causing their lips to be inches apart. Sayuri reeled back instinctively. Ulquiorra did not think that her bright crimson face could become more vibrant, but she proved him wrong.

As she tried to regain her sense of calm, he spoke nonchalantly, "If you would be so kind as to answer my question since I have answered all of yours. Clearly, you do not grasp the idea of common courtesy."

The blood had begun to drain from her abused cheeks. but his statement made all her advancements in calming herself down all for naught.

Embarrassed, the lily stuttered, "O-Oh. You a-asked why I did not change clothes after you became my mentor, correct?"

He nodded.

She was about to open her mouth, when her incoherent mind finally reorganized itself. Their conversation flashed in her thoughts, and the odd exchange took on new light.

'He's toying with me,' she concluded, 'Ulquiorra would normally have evaded such interactions. But I don't understand what's the point of all this. Why is he doing this? Why?'

Sayuri felt rebellion overtaking her judgment. She hated being a pawn in an unknown chessboard. A devious sparkle reflected in her oceanic windows, and Ulquiorra did not miss the change in her demeanor.

Sauntering over to him and reclosing the gap between them, she reached up as he held his ground. Pride would not allow him to step back even as her hands drew closer. Sayuri brushed his bangs from his forehead. His breath hitched at the contact.

The poisonous flower gave him an innocent smile and looked up at him through dark lashes. As she twisted her forefinger on the lock of ebony hair dangling in the middle of his forehead, she whispered, "I want to keep looking my best for you."

Ulquiorra became rigid. Then, she pulled back, walked away, and resumed her training as though nothing had ever taken place. The conversation had obviously taken an unusual turn with her as the victor. The ambrosial scent of her soul lingered in the air, not helping his thoughts any.

Finally, his senses returned to him. He glared at her accusingly. "That was a highly ridiculous and unfair way of teasing woman."

She halted her movements and gave him one of her large grins. "On the contrary, you hypocrite, you seemed to have enjoyed your share of teasing earlier. I wanted to simply join in on the fun."

Ulquiorra's monotonic expression was restored. The fun was over. He had already learned enough for now just from that simple and eccentric dialogue.

Sayuri pretended to not notice the tugging in her chest. She will admit that she had done something stupid. Her relationship with Ulquiorra had always been vague, but the recent event did not help to clarify it. In fact, what had just transpired only augmented the confusion.

One thing was certain, they both enjoyed taunting the other.

Over the next hour, Sayuri had repeatedly performed the routine. The crescent moon was almost completely above the horizon when he had told her to stop.

"Good," Ulquiorra praised her for the first time. "It is better than before, but your right hand is still a hindrance."

"I will work on it more," she promised.

He nodded. "Take this time to rest. Tomorrow, your training will continue."

Once she had been dismissed, she began to unfold her sleeping bag that Urahara had apparently packed for her. Not once in the past hour had their odd conversation left her thoughts. His actions had been so unlike him that it was too weird to forget. She knew he had been teasing her, but the same question was always the end result: why?

She looked behind her to find him leaning against one of the protruding boulders, one leg extended while the other was propped up with his arm laid over it. Because of the grayness that characterized Hueco Mundo, his face was covered in shadows.

"What is it woman?" he spoke.

The teenager swiveled her head forward rapidly. "N-Nothing."

The silence reigned over them. Occasional roars of nearby hollows would break the frail stillness. The moon now fully portrayed its glorious glow over the sandy domain. Much like how the night was leisurely rising, Sayuri felt her relationship - whatever kind it may be - with Ulquiorra gradually forming. It was in a nascent stage, but the point was that something was there.

'Still... I know almost next to nothing about him...'

She had constantly desired to talk to him, to learn about him, but she usually withdrew from the task. It intimidated her. Then, when she had discovered his annoyance towards her, the desire to know him better became all the more impossible. Finally, she had decided to simply avoid him all together in order to erase the unwanted feelings meant for him.

Despite it all, she still cared. She still wanted to know the real Ulquiorra - his thoughts, his feelings, his fears...

Immuring her reservations to the back of her consciousness, she gathered the courage she needed. Her lips quivered with unspoken words. She was afraid she would offend or irritate him. However, doing nothing will always only lead to nothing.

"Ulquiorra..." she began.

There was no acknowledgment, but she knew he had heard her.

"How did y-you end up in the human world?" the blue eyed Kimura managed to ask. It had been a question that had remained unanswered ever since she had found him at the park. It was not a personal question, or she hoped it was not. She did not want to intrude on his personal life during this pivotal moment when her relation to him was being shaped.

When he did not respond after a moment, panic grew at the pit of her stomach. Then, his melodic words arrived, placating her. "Why is it that you ask such a question?"

"I don't know anything about you, so I... I wanted to learn..." she muttered, a blush making her skin luminescent.

Sayuri was relieved that he was sitting behind her and thus obstructing him from getting a glimpse of her flustered demeanor. It did take a lot of courage to speak with the male you care for, especially if that guy has a distant and reticent personality.

A minute or two passed without a single noise coming behind her.

Sayuri began to take back her words. "Y-You don't ha-"

"Kurosaki had killed me," he interrupted her.

Her sapphire spheres widened. She twisted her body and looked at him, but his face was still blanketed by the shadows. "What?"

Ulquiorra took note of the fear and horror in her eyes, but was unable to place what emotion she was feeling at that moment.

"We were enemies at that time," he continued.

"Then Orihime had used her powers on you," she repeated the knowledge that had been bestowed to her by the maiden herself.

"Yes. Orihime revived me, but as a precaution, she only healed me to the point where I was able to heal myself," Ulquiorra elaborated. "When Aizen, who had been my superior, left to fight the war against the Soul Reapers, he had instructed several arrancars to rid of any hollow that disgraces him by losing to a Soul Reaper. I was found while I was still recuperating and thrown into the human world."

The fear in her expression melted into relief. She gave him a smile that was obvious in the monotonic landscape. "I'm glad that you and Ichigo no longer have to kill each other. And I'm glad that you survived."

"Hn. I had survived merely from Orihime's kindness."

Sayuri transferred her attention to the sand, but kept her body twisted around to still face him.

'I would guess that she cared for him even back then... She probably revived him, not out of kindness, but out of love,' she reflected, familiar with the loving glances the orange haired teen had thrown towards the ashen man. When her mind visualized the hug that the two had shared after their camping excursion, she suppressed it. Orihime had revived him, and Sayuri was still and will remain thankful towards her.

"Is that the only question you had wished for me to answer?"

"No, if you don't mind that is..." she trailed off.

"I do not," he answered, "State your next inquiry."

In order to make herself more comfortable, she turned her entire body to face him.

"Why do hollows have a hole?" Sayuri verbalized.

This time, Ulquiorra answered instantly. He said, "Hollows are formed when they have lost their heart to despair, thus leaving a hole."

"Where does the heart go?"

"It becomes the distinctive mask of the hollow, but I do not find this explanation entirely convincing. By human definition, this mask is not a heart by any means. The mask does not perform the traditional jobs of a heart, so I am uncertain about the true location of a hollow's heart," he commented.

Sayuri gave him an incredulous look. "So you and Grimmjow both do not have a heart?"

"Yes."

She giggled, unable to help herself. It was difficult to imagine that these two kind albeit unique and eccentric hollows, who have become central in her life, were heartless.

"I do not understand your source of amusement," he uttered.

Sayuri could not resist another giggle. "I don't think you and Grimmjow are heartless, Ulquiorra. A heart is more than some organ. It's, um, an identity. It's intangible. From knowing the both of you, I can definitely say that you both have hearts - even if you don't have a beating one."

Her statement intrigued him. "Then where is it?"

"That I can't tell you," she replied, "Only you can figure out where you have kept your heart."

"I see..."

Sayuri gave him a comforting smile. "I know you'll find it."

"Do you have any further curiosities?"

"Mm," she verbally thought, "Yes, one more. Um, what does the four tattooed on your chest signify?"

"My rank as an Espada. There are ten Espadas. The lower the number, the higher the rank and power that an Espada possesses."

"So Grimmjow is the Sixth," she stated, finally understanding why the ashen man and her previous teacher had called each other via numbers.

Grimmjow's lower rank clarified why he was submissive, despite his rebellious attitude, to Ulquiorra.

"Yes."

She still had many things to ask him, but four questions had been answered. It was a start. Sayuri smiled. This was enough for now.

Satisfied, she began to settle herself into her sleeping bag, muttering, "Thank you for taking the time to satisfy my curiosity. I appreciate it. I'll let us both rest now."

"Hn."

Ulquiorra observed as the woman covered herself with her makeshift blanket. He, too, closed his eyes. Her words had been a little helpful.

He knew that no hollow would be idiotic enough to challenge him. His power had fully returned, and the nearby hollows were likely warned by their instinct to steer clear of the area. He allowed his mind to settle into a comfortable meditation.

Everything was silent.

As he felt himself relax, Sayuri's scream abruptly smothered the air. In a flash, he was standing before her. There were no signs of danger, but he watched as she continued to whimper hysterically. She was reaching for her back. Familiar salty droplets were beginning to gather in her eyes.

"Why are you tearing up woman?"

She ran in random patterns around him, her hands still trying to reach her posterior. The tears still remained unshed.

"P-P-P-Please get i-it o-o-off me!" she begged.

She continued her frantic movements in a last attempt to remove whatever it was that was plaguing her. Ulquiorra saw the cloth on her back move. Something was definitely there. Quickly, he sonidod behind her, grabbed her waist to keep her still, and sliced the fabric with his fingers. A tiny worm-like hollow was crawling on her back.

"Get i-i-it off!" he heard her plea.

His cool hands made contact with her warm skin as he pulled the hindrance off and tossed it nonchalantly behind him.

She gazed back in his direction, her eyes red from unshed tears. "Thank you," she murmured like a weak child.

"Why are you fussing ov-" he began to chastise her, but halted when she felt her trembling in his arms.

Her sniffling cracked the air.

He removed his hand from her waist, and she collapsed on her knees. Fervently, she rubbed her eyes.

"I'm s-s-sorry," she stuttered, "I have this phobia of, um, slimy, crawling things..."

Sometime in her transition from childhood to adolescence, she had formed that eccentric and irritating fear. Bugs and insects were of no consequence to her, but if they were characterized with slime and wiggling movement, she would instantly freeze, panic, and run. She hated it, but alas, the phobia had been totally ingrained in her persona.

Her shaking did not cease.

"Troublesome woman," he stated.

Sayuri looked up at him, brushing the last of her tears from her eye. "I know. I'm sorry."

With her face aimed away from him, he was able to see the planes of her exposed back. Like her fragile hands, the skin of her back was soft. Her spine, like a river, carved a straight and smooth path down the center of her back. At the base was a pair of dimples and a petite mole on her lower left side. Her skin was not flawless. It was perfectly imperfect. An unfamiliar and warm sensation was crawling up his neck. His face, within moments, felt hot.

Sayuri wanted to thank him again, but saw that his normally pale pallor had reddened. Worried, she stood up to get a better look at his face.

"Are you ok?" she asked while placing a hand on his forehead, "You feel a little warm, and your face is flushed."

Ulquiorra grabbed her wrist and removed her intruding hand. "I am fine woman," he claimed.

"Are you sure? You've never felt that warm before..."

"Yes. I assure you I am fine."

"Ok..."

With one last worried look, she allowed the subject to drop. She could not force him to answer her inquiries after he had so graciously opened up to him.

As such, she began to prepare for the much needed rest that had been so rudely interrupted by that thing. Sayuri smoothed over the sleeping bag that she had left in a disorderly state during her frenzy. She was tired. The day had been incredibly eventful.

As she repositioned her blanket, a light breeze passed. It was chilling considering her exposed back.

"Mm," she wondered aloud, "Grimmjow had not given me any spare clothes."

She sighed mentally. She would just have to deal with it. She had bathed in the ocean each morning, but her wardrobe was limited to only that single tunic. It was sturdy, but she wished Urahara had the foresight to have made more than one pair for her to wear. Now, that piece of cloth had been effortlessly ruined, sliced cleanly open at the back using only the fingers of a strong hollow.

"You did not want me to cut the fabric," Ulquiorra perceived via her actions.

"No, no," she faced him and waved her hands in front of her and shook her head. "It's not too bad walking around with a backless tunic. In fact, the breeze feels kind of nice."

The ashen male received another of her plentiful smiles.

'His world is expanding from that life of killing he'd endured,' she deduced, 'I'm glad. He is becoming more thoughtful.'

"Are you not prone to illness due to the cold." It was a statement that was not meant to be questioned.

Ulquiorra still remembered Shin's words of wisdom towards her health. She was a sickly girl. A small breeze was capable of spiraling her condition downwards.

Sayuri was startled at his remembrance. She shook her head, and then returned to her task of preparing her bed.

The raven-haired teen murmured, "I can hold out until we get home."

She believed the matter to have settled when no response was made. However, a soft fabric wrapped around her back and shielded it from the beach air.

She ogled at the shirtless Ulquiorra that passed her. Promptly, she lunged forward to grasp his hand.

"Wait!" she called, "It's ok. Really. You don't have to lend me your clothes."

She dropped her hold on his cool appendage when he rotated to face her. Having him stand before her provided her with an unhindered view of his toned body. She had seen it before when she had tended to his wounds or when she had aided him to bathe. At those moments, she had been occupied with a task. This time, her attention was fully committed to him and only him. The only other time she could remember when she had been able to appreciate the masterpiece of his sculpted physique was after he had bathed - that was weeks ago.

The length of his legs was emphasized by the flowing blanc hakama he adorned. His sword was held by an ebony sash wrapped about his waist. His white skin glowed an ethereal light, allowing the black number four tattooed on the left side of his chest to be more prominent. His chest and arms were chiseled. His abs were strong valleys on his body.

Sayuri could not help the carmine that stained her cheeks.

"I don't want to cause any trouble to you," she murmured.

"I refuse to be accused by the cat or Kurosaki for neglecting the well-being of a human under my tutelage," Ulquiorra explained, "If you do not wish to cause me unnecessary trouble, wear my tunic so you do not become ill."

Her hands twisted before her and she bit her lips, actions that made her nervousness and hesitance evident.

Finally, she answered, "Ok... Thank you, Ulquiorra."

Ulquiorra's expression remained empty. Without another word, he proceeded to his spot by the rock. Once he had sat down in his usual position, Sayuri returned to her sleeping bag. She placed her arms through the sleeves of the white coat and zipped it up. The tall collar protected her neck, but the two long coat tails were only mere inches above her ankles. It was a blessing that she was only a few inches shorter than Ulquiorra, or his shirt would have been far too large for her to comfortably wear.

She laid on her bed with the blanket draped over form.

'I can smell his scent,' she thought, still blushing. Since the first time she had been able to discern his scent, she had found it soothing. There were no words in the human dictionary to describe his smell. All she knew to describe it was that it provided her the feeling of being protected and untouchable.

With the comfort of his presence, she closed her eyes and easily found the company of sleep.

-O-

She had not suspected her third day in Hueco Mundo to be hell.

He had taught her the basics of locating spiritual pressures to at least enable her to pinpoint the source to a general area. Half the morning was spent with her having to recite how many hollows are present at that given time and where they were situated around them.

After that, Ulquiorra had drilled her on battle techniques and movements once more. This, however, was not the "hell" that she came to know shortly. This "hell" that took place on the latter half of the day was much worst. The fact that he was still shirtless, because he had insisted that she continue wearing his shirt as a precaution against illness, did not help her concentration any.

It was a blessing that there was no sun in this world, or else she would have felt far worst. She thanked the endless night and moon that graced the lands of the hollows. Her breaths came unevenly. She stood hunched, almost to the point of collapsing, with her two wakizashis gripped in her hands.

Ulquiorra blankly scrutinized the red liquid dripping from the handle of the weapon to the tip of the blade and into the ground, only to be soaked up by the thirsty sand. It was her blood. He chose to ignore that fact for the moment.

He needed his point to get across.

With Murciélago ready, he used sonido to close the gap between them. He watched her crouch into the defensive position he had taught her. She scanned the vicinity for any signs of him. Her eyes widened in shock when he appeared before her, his own sword already swinging to cut her in half.

She let out a cry of pain when she had managed to block the attack by crossing her twin swords before her. More of her life liquid began to seep through the bandages that he had covered her blisters with. Without any effort, he repeatedly struck her down. She managed to barely catch his blade with her own. The grinding of metal resounded in the vacant beach like a rhythmic but brittle song.

He will get his point across.

With the force of the clashing blades, he sent her tumbling on her behind. The grip she had on her twin swords slackened, and they flew from her hold.

Sayuri struggled to sit upright, her breathing now more rapid.

"This is the reason why I want you to refrain from fighting higher level hollows. I did not even use a fraction of my strength, and it had been more than enough to overwhelm you," he told her, while eying her from above. She felt small under his condescending gaze. "If you encounter a hollow capable of speaking, run. If you encounter a hollow who has opened their mask, run. If you encounter a hollow that resembles a human, run."

The lily nodded her head. "I-I understand, Ulquiorra."

"Good, because I guarantee that you will die if you do not heed my warning woman. The whole point of this exercise is to show how your skills will pale in comparison to that of a highly evolved hollow."

Sayuri shook her head again in acquiescence.

She looked at her hands as she attempted to steady her breath. The flow of her crimson liquid through her injured hands had not yet ceased. Around her, darkened spots where her blood had splattered decorated the usually white sand. Pale hands then came into view. They grasped her bloodied appendages and began to undo the now vermilion bandage that enveloped them. She traced the length of the arm to Ulquiorra's face.

She gawked at him. He was being kind to her again...

"Um, thank you," she voiced as he emptied one of their water bottles to clean her cuts.

Again, he portrayed his finesse for treating wounds. He applied the ointment on the open sores and cuts that she had received from the contact of her wakizashi with the excessive force of his sword. He wrapped the fresh bandages perfectly around her hands and wrist. Once the task was consummated, he left to put the supply bag out of their way.

When he had made his way back to her, Sayuri had finally managed to calm her lungs.

"Now," he began, "This will be your final lesson before we return to the human world."

"What is it?" she inquired as she stood up and dusted herself.

"I want you to remember what you are about to feel right now."

Before she could respond, the air became heavy. It was much heavier than any other spiritual pressure she had ever encountered. In fact, all the hollow energy that she had grown accustomed to during her three day long stay at Hueco Mundo did not compare. It easily exceeded Grimmjow's own power.

"Enclose, Murciélago."

With that command, Sayuri fell on her hands and knees as green rain splattered from Ulquiorra's metamorphosing form. When the supernatural rain subsided, he stood before her in his new figure. He now wore a white robe, which had a single vertical line at the center front, that nearly reached the ground. It had a neckline that fitted around his neck. The remainder of his hollow mask sat at the middle of his head, a pair of long horns sprouting outwards on each side. His hair had grown longer and wilder, his nails had lengthened, and his tear stains were now more triangular. The largest change, however, was the massive pair of sleek, black bat-like wings that protruded from his back.

"This is the power of an arrancar's resurrection," he announced to her. "You will be at the mercy of any hollow that has evolved to this extent."

Sweat rolled down Sayuri's chin. It was taking all her strength to keep herself from flatly collapsing on the ground. She did not even have the energy to nod her head or speak.

Ulquiorra took several steps away from her immobile position. He looked at her through his bat-like eyes.

He told her, "Now, prepare yourself woman. I will not show you the embodiment of true despair."

'There's more!?' she mentally exclaimed.

As Ulquiorra chanted, "Resurrección: Segunda Etapa," the spiritual pressure around her grew immensely thick to the point where it was almost tangible. Under the impressive weight of his rising power, she collapsed faced forward on the ground, too paralyzed to even move her finger. Her head rolled ungracefully so that her left cheeks paralleled the ground.

She watched in awe as Ulquiorra walked towards her in his more animalistic form. His hollow mask was absent, and what remained was only a pair of long satanic horns extending from the front half of his head. What appeared to be black fur covered most of his arms and the entirety of his lower body. Claws could now be seen on both his hands and feet. His bat wings appeared more impressive as a pair of fur-like coattails also projected from his back. Ulquiorra's hollow hole was at the center of his chest with a black trail seemingly coming out of it. This time, the most notable change, in her perspective, was his orbs. The whites of his eyes were a dark and foreboding green and his now black pupil was surrounded by a molten sea of yellow iris.

"Are you afraid woman?" he questioned her.

Sayuri, from her prostrate position, could only look up at him by shifting her eyes upwards. It took a massive amount of concentration for her to move her lips and even more so to make her voice box function.

"Y-Yes," was the only word she managed to stutter out, tears streaming down her face just from looking at him.

It was the first time she had been able to cry since her friends' betrayals. It appears that the mental block her conscious had placed on her emotions for protection had been broken. Suffice to say, it came as a surprise to her.

His golden orbs grew distant as he absorbed her words and demeanor. Ulquiorra, from her expression, knew that she had learned her lesson. His point had gone through. He transformed back to his normal form.

Sayuri rose from her position, the salty liquid still cascading as she gasped for breath. Ulquiorra could only watch as a sob shook past her throat.

'Perhaps it was unnecessary to reveal that form to her.'

He had caused her to fear him. He had caused that look in her eyes, which he had not once seen directed towards him since that first incident at the hospital.

Her blue windows increased in diameter as she noted Ulquiorra's appearance as though she had truly seen him got the first time.

'That white armor on his head...' her thoughts sped along with her pulse, 'That hole in his chest...He resembles...'

She could not finish her sentence.

Her body automatically bolted back in an attempt to place as much space between she and it.

Ulquiorra remained unfazed at her actions as his intimidating stare took in her frightened movements.

When her sobs did not abate after a minute, he declared, "Woman, just forget what you had just seen."

Sayuri looked at him with her stormy oceans.

"I can't," she admitted, "I'm so scared for you."

"For... me?" he repeated.

Ulquiorra did not succeed in hiding his shock. The new information was enough to stir that meaningless reaction of surprise. That fear in her eyes had not been caused by him; it had been for him.

"When you took your second form, you looked so empty. Alone. Distant. It felt as though, no matter how hard I try, I wouldn't be able to reach you... I don't want you to be alone. I d-don't ever want you to feel that way..." she explained.

"You were not afraid of me?" he asked after managing to return his stoicism in place.

"Why would I be afraid of you?" Sayuri replied with her own question. "I can never be afraid of you. You're my... You're my friend."

The Cuatro Espada could only reply with a simple phrase. "I see."

-O-

"That felt like..."

A rowdy laugh interrupted. "It seems he'd managed to survive."

"What would you like to do, my lord?" the shorter male asked, looking at the taller hollow for orders.

A satanic smile etched onto colorless lips.

"Let's play a game."

-O-

Please review!

Again, please let me know if you have any complaints with how Ulquiorra acted in this chapter. I actually had to force myself to look away at the parts where I felt like he was too out of character, but the story's development requires him to a bit different from his original persona.

Thanks for reading!