It was to be the last of their dinners together for a while, Orihime knew; before Ichigo began fulltime work and Rukia and Renji went back to Soul Society for an indeterminate time. Even Uryu was going to Tokyo to study design for an upscale pattern-maker with ties to the fashion industry.

She didn't want it to end. Her own life would be days of work at the noodle shop and hoping to find Tatsuki in-between the martial art classes she taught and tournaments. Even Chad would be scarce with his job at the docks on Tokyo Bay.

She perked a smile on her face, ignoring the gently falling snow outside that threatened to layer Karakura Town in white. She sat straighter on her cushion at the kotatsu table, intently not noticing how close Ichigo was sitting to Rukia across from her.

"I wonder what's keeping Uryu?" she mussed aloud, her chopsticks picking at a few grains of rice on her plate.

"He'll be here." Renji was to one side at the table, noting her attention not on Rukia and Ichigo. He took another bean paste bun from the center plate amid the half empty dishes. "He better hurry or there won't be anything left."

She smiled wide. "I have more in the kitchen, Renji. I made enough."

He nodded, glancing askance at Rukia edging to Ichigo, who both saw his attention.

Ichigo cleared his throat, shifting his legs beneath the table. "I've got to run, Orihime. Promised my dad I'd clean out the back room of the clinic before dark tonight."

"Oh, so soon?" she said, looking from him to the window. The sky was turning a darker gray with winter's onset, shortening days.

"Uryu might not come by," he added, gently, making up for the wounded look crossing her face. "You know he's been busy with his internship preparations. I'm sure he wanted to be here."

"Of course he did," Rukia said, nodding.

Renji gave them both a cross look. "I suppose you're leaving, too," he said to her.

Rukia couldn't hide the guilt washing over her small features. "Well... I guess..."

Renji snagged one of the remaining buns from the table. "So go. I'll stay until Uryu gets here." He grinned at Orihime. "We'll make him do dishes for being late."

She smiled, which dimmed slightly as Ichigo and Rukia stood up. "Maybe he forgot."

"'Course not," Ichigo said, looking around for their coats on the couch across the room. Orihime's apartment was small, and very warm at the moment, and she'd set dinner on the kotatsu table minus the blanket. He cast a brief glance back to Orihime still pondering the few sweet buns on the plate. "He's just all worked up over new needles and pins."

A moment later she saw him and Rukia to the door, making the usual pleasant goodbyes she always did. It wasn't until the door closed that she realized their absence left her alone with Renji.

It seemed to strike him suddenly, too.

"Uh, if you'd rather wait alone, I can go, too," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, looking more out of place than usual in the small room. "I figure Uryu will be here shortly, but if it's too ... well, alone...I'll go."

She straightened her yellow blouse, feet restless beneath her long turquoise skirt as she shook her head. "No."

He stuck his hands deeper into his pullover front pocket. "You sure?"

She nodded, not quite convincing him.

He figured the slight blush on her cheeks sealed her real answer. It was meant to be a gesture of friendship, but with no one else present, he figured it appeared something different, and from the unease hinting her eyes he assumed something akin to almost ominous might be more accurate. Before he could clarify or further cloud the matter, his Soul Society cell phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket.

Orihime watched him look at the screen for a second, and then flip the phone closed.

"I've got to go," he said, judging her relief. "I'm on standby duty with Rukia and that's my call." He didn't add that Rukia may be too busy to answer her call.

"Oh, okay," she said. "A Hollow?"

He nodded, sending a quick glance to the table. "You'll wait on Uryu still?"

She nodded, smiling more. "Thanks for offering to stay, Renji."

"Yeah, well, a thought anyway, huh?"

He left then, taking with him what seemed like most of the life from Orihime's small apartment. She looked back to the table, one hand running up the sleeve of her opposite arm. Of course shinigamis didn't take life, she thought, even in gigai form.

But she did like it better with other people, or at least beings that were her friends, in the apartment. She didn't try to keep the smile on her face for no one. She'd save it for Uryu when he got there.

She moved to the table and began collecting plates and bowls, pleased that her guests had eaten so much of her specially prepared meal. This time it seemed to be genuinely appreciated. She knew sometimes her guests ate out of politeness. She gathered the plate of sweet bean paste buns, chiding herself for not having Renji take one when he left.

She tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear, mind drifting to whether Uryu had forgotten or simply got too busy. She felt turbulence in the spiritual pressure around her, and slowly stood up, looking around the warm room.

All was in order, nothing amiss.

She looked toward the door, thinking of the Hollow Renji had left to battle. Perhaps it was that.

A sudden increase in the pressure around her made her reach for the hairpins clipped beneath the collar of her shirt, senses alert at the powerful change.

She whirled around as a familiar reiatsu surged from the other side of the room. For a moment she could only stare back at Ulquiorra Schiffer, a mixture of astonishment and fear eclipsing her will to respond.

His dark eyes dropped over her, resting on her face, the plates she clutched to herself, the thick socks she wore.

Before he could speak, she gave a small cry of surprise, and then the dishes clattered to the floor.


Aizen permitted Grimmjow to remain in the throne room as he expected Orihime's return with Ulquiorra. The Sexta Espada, although numbers and ranks had become obsolete in the aftermath of the War, was his typical stony self, but this time Aizen detected a bit of amusement in the Espada.

He let it pass, not allowing it to interfere with his plans. "You and Ulquiorra may each train a set of Arrancar of your own choosing and you'll be in charge of keeping any extraneous forces from Las Noches," he said as a grin crossed Grimmjow's face. "I expect there'll be some visitors once Orihime is noticed as missing. Keep any shinigami or Living away from here. I don't care how you do it."

Aizen's freehand on the matter brought a promissory sneer from Grimmjow. "Yes, Aizen-sama."

Aizen's eyes were on the wide set of tall doors across the room. He stood at the steps of the grand stairs to the throne and platform that rose to his side. He didn't sit there much anymore. He knew it was an intimidating place, and that wasn't quite the influence he wanted now, not on her. He knew he had to undo, to misplace some of what Orihime knew of him.

Actually, a good portion of what she knew of him.

But he had time. She had time, too. She could relearn, and be his again.

One tall door across the room opened and closed and then footsteps echoed across the limestone floor as two shadows appeared. Aizen focused on the pair.

He ignored much of Ulquiorra, eyes fastened on the slender, shapely silhouette of Orihime as she timidly walked a few steps behind the Espada. Her blue skirt swayed as she moved, her fingers clasped together before her as her wide eyes took in the mammoth chamber that seemed to swallow her small form. Even from his distance, Aizen could see her hesitation to approach.

Ulquiorra halted them before Aizen. Orihime's nervous glance went to Grimmjow standing off to one side before going to Aizen. Her gaze fell before him momentarily, and when she looked up a different sadness hinted her eyes.

"Welcome back, Orihime," Aizen said, allowing some of a smile.

She bowed. "Aizen-sama."

Ulquiorra wasn't ready with a report, his confusion still evident in his stilted movements. He extended his hand to Aizen. "This has been surrendered, Aizen-sama."

Aizen looked to the sole hairpin in the Espada's palm. He took it, attention on Orihime. "Very good, Ulquiorra." He saw Orihime's eyes follow the movement, the slight lurch in her face as he took the hairpin housing her protective power sprites. "You may keep your healing powers for the moment."

She barely nodded, eyes still on the hairpin.

Aizen looked to Grimmjow and then Ulquiorra. "That is all. You may both go."

For a moment there was an unsettled pause, and then Grimmjow and Ulquiorra nodded and left the room, both with a glance back at the Living girl.

Aizen smiled at her, hoping to bring a glimmer of one from her. There was none.

He turned and gestured to the hall door leading out of the cavernous room. "Walk with me, Orihime."

She nodded. "Yes, Aizen-sama."

She followed him across the room, each time his attempt to get her to walk alongside of him failing. Finally at the far door, he opened it and let one arm rest across her shoulders.

Orihime immediately looked to him, flinching as his hand moved her hair.

"You needn't startle," he said, ushering her through the door and into a long corridor lit on one side. "I know you've been through much here, in Hueco Mundo, and your memories of this place are polluted by the War." He let his hand remain on her shoulder, the silkiness of her hair reminding him of other times. "But memories are odd creatures, don't you think?"

She walked at his side, mostly because she had no choice, partly because his voice had dropped to a mesmerizing tone. "I, I suppose so, Aizen-sama." She made an effort not to bite her lower lip. "I remember everything that happened here," she ventured, bracing herself for reprimand.

Instead he chuckled. "Well, sometimes we remember things differently. I understand you're immune to kikanshinki's effects." His gaze fell to her lips when she faced him with curiosity. "Yes, I heard about that in Soul Society. Very remarkable."

She looked ahead as he directed them around a juncture of halls where a brighter corridor opened. She wasn't sure if it was the contact of his hand on her shoulder or something else, but his overpowering presence wasn't as dominant. Perhaps the Hyogoku's absence or maybe he was masking some of his incredible reiatsu, she thought. Or maybe because he was shinigami now.

"I think that will give you a better chance at remembering everything, don't you think?"

She frowned for a moment as he halted them at one of the doors in the hall. He opened it and let her in, following, closing the door behind them. The room was small, with a wide window opening to a view of the courtyard below, making her realize they were on a higher floor. She could see nothing out it but the opposite end of the complex, the wall running around Las Noches.

The room was a pale gray lilac, one of the few places of color she'd seen in the fortress since her first visit. Before them was a low table set with a tea service and several plates of finger food, and to one side stood a female form. Orihime looked closer at the figure as Aizen's hand moved from her right shoulder, sliding across her back to intercept her opposite left arm.

The female figure had smooth features, eyes lowered, dressed simply in a cheongsam style white robe, hair wrapped in a severe bun.

"Dismissed," Aizen said to the female.

The form bowed and left out the door behind them.

Orihime turned to watch it, and then looked up at Aizen before she could stop herself.

His slight smile wasn't the same she'd seen on him before, not the malicious smirk or power-hungry cruel smile. Something a little different.

Certainly not warm or true, she thought, following as his hand on her arm led her to the table.

"Sit down, Orihime."

She let herself sit on her knees at the mauve cushion to one side of the table as he sat to her left on another. He poured tea from the jute green pot into two small matching cups, placing one before her.

"We've had tea together before, but I doubt you remember that." He set the pot down. "It was a lifetime ago. Few can remember past that." He slid a plate of rice thins to her. "Help yourself, Orihime."

Her eyes darted up to him, puzzlement making her wary.

He nodded. "You can be confused for a while; I expect as much."

She frowned, eyes going to the tea steaming from her cup for a long moment before rising to him. He looked much the same as he had when she'd been previously coerced into accompanying Ulquiorra to Las Noches. His hair was still pushed back, a few strands escaping in the front, but his clothes were a little different. So had been Ulquiorra and Grimmjow's, she recalled, although mere minor differences in some of the black trim. She looked to the maroon piping that ran along the black of his jacket and cuffs, a subtle change that meant little, she decided. Most of the difference was in his face.

His expression seemed less cunning. She wasn't sure how, for there was nothing different in the smile. She'd never seen him in Soul Society when she'd followed Ichigo to rescue Rukia from certain death.

Disarming, she decided. Maybe that was it. Not quite charming, because she knew him, but not exactly cruel. Her fingers closed around the warm cup. "Will there be another war?"

As soon as the words left her lips, Orihime wanted to swallow them back. Ulquiorra had given her no explanation; he'd simply appeared in her room, and barely had she pulled her hairpins than he plucked one from her fingers.

Her attack sprite and two of her shielding sprites. Not her healing powers or the third shielding spite, Lily. He said she wouldn't need them, and that Aizen wished to speak with her.

"No." He raised his cup to his lips, blowing on the hot tea. "Your friends are in no danger from me, unless they try to follow you here."

She nodded. She put her unsteady hands around her cup, hoping to still them.

"You're here because I want to know more about your time in Soul Society." He set the cup on the table. "Perhaps you remember more than you think you do."

She shook her head immediately. "I don't. I've never been permitted to be anywhere sensitive."

He smiled more. "Maybe not recently." He nudged the rice thins closer to her. "These are very good. We have better cuisine this time."

She looked from the small discs of pressed rice to him. "I thought everything was destroyed here."

"Nearly so. Szayel, our researcher, was quite thorough. He made the necessary safeguards in case of such an emergency." He took one of the thins. "Most of our operations are intact. Some even have improvements. Much has changed since you were last here, Orihime."

She slowly took a rice thin, seeing more of a smile cross his face.

"I'm not asking you these questions because I'm curious about Soul Society," he said, seeing her fingers toy with the thin. "You have a new room here."

This time her whole body jolted, her hand nearly snapping the thin. She shook her head.

"Yes, you do." There was more of a chill to his smile now. "You'll be staying. As my guest."

Orihime tried to find words, ones that wouldn't pour out in an incoherent jumble, but she couldn't.

"I'm going to ask you a question, one I want you to think intently about before answering," he said, his tone more serious now. "Do you understand?"

She nodded. "Yes, I think so, Aizen-sama." She held her breath, the rice thin forgotten with the cooling tea.

"Good." He pulled the two other plates of ginger rolls and another edible she didn't recognize closer to her plate. "For now I want you to eat and rest up. I'll show you to your room in a while, after you've eaten. A seamstress will be in tomorrow to take your measurements for a new wardrobe," he said, appreciating the sudden shock in her face that made her look to him with those wide violet-gray eyes he remembered. "Something tasteful, Orihime. Nothing like an Arrancar uniform."

She nodded, unable to find her voice, mind numbing.

He stood up, moving to her side as she remained immobile at the table, eyes still on the untouched tea in her cup.

"I want you to think back," he said, bending to lean to her ear, watching her eyes fastened on the tea, "and recall your first memory."

She turned her head, face inches from his as she looked at him. The proximity made her hair brush his jaw, making the fear in her wide eyes nearly eclipse the color.

He nodded. "I want to know your first memory, Orihime." His gaze went to the slight tremble at her lips, then back to her eyes. "What's your first memory? Ever."

He stood and moved to the door, leaving her confused at the table. He watched her motionless figure, eyes traveling over the shape of her waist and hips as she sat on her knees, her profile still turned, her eyes lowered.

In confusion, Aizen guessed. "Think about it."

She nodded slightly. "Yes, Aizen-sama."

The door opened and closed, and Orihime saw him leave out of her peripheral vision. She faced forward again, a surreal feeling washing over her.

Memories? A new illusionary trick?

She wanted to shake the idea from her head, but bewilderment was too thick in it.

Orihime sighed slowly, eyes open but unseeing as she stared at the tea cup before her.

Maybe she would wake up in her bed at home and everything would be a bad dream from too many sweet bean paste buns. She certainly hoped so.