It was "night" here in Hueco Mundo and all of the occupants of Las Noches were fast asleep save for one individual. Grimmjow Jeagerjaques swung a little bag over his shoulder as he stalked towards the kitchen, his lips set in a thin line. The kitchen was open to all of the Espada and Grimmjow was used to raiding through the place to pack some food for whenever he wanted to go to the human world. Everyone was used to seeing Grimmjow disappear for days on end and returning only to attend a meeting. However, no one would suspect that this time, instead of going to the human world, Grimmjow would be going to Soul Society. It had been a few days since he had seen Ulquiorra and he had not been able to get out of Las Noches until now.

No one made a comment on Grimmjow's behaviour and his constant disappearances; they knew that he was still grieving over Ulquiorra's death. They thought that he was being stupid but most of them kept their opinions to themselves. Just as long as he did not do anything stupid, they did not give a shit about what Grimmjow Jeagerjaques did during his free time.

When Grimmjow arrived in front of the kitchen, he pushed the door open and was surprised to see that there was someone in the room. There, on the table, with his head propped on his arm was the Primera Espada, doing what he did best.

"Starrk?" Grimmjow said cautiously. "What are you doing here?"

The dark haired man opened his eyes sleepily. When he saw that it was Grimmjow, he yawned. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he said tiredly, brushing his dark hair out of his eyes.

"Hm." Grimmjow closed the door behind him and walked towards the pantry. He rarely saw the Primera Espada except during meetings so seeing the brown haired man outside of his room was something Grimmjow was not used to. When he did see the man, they would usually just greet each other but not more than that. Starrk was nice and was on good terms with him, but he did not speak much. "Can't sleep?"

"You can say that again." Starrk rubbed at his eyes. "This is the only place I can sleep in peace without having my balls crushed by Lilynette. Every time that happens, I can't sit down for a week."

Grimmjow winced. Ouch.

Lilynette was the only one who dared to wake the Primera Espada up from his slumber. And her favourite method of doing so would have to be grabbing his nutsack and giving it such a painful squeeze that the whole of Las Noches could hear Starrk's screams. Needless to say, playful individuals like Ichimaru Gin and Nnoitra Jiruga found this extremely amusing.

"Yeah, I know. You have no idea how nerve wracking it is trying to protect my balls." Starrk leaned back against his seat as he studied the teal haired arrancar. Grimmjow was rummaging through the pantry, pulling out some bread and buns to put into his little bag. "So. Where are you off to, Grimmjow?"

"Uhh… Nowhere in particular." Grimmjow avoided the question. He did not want anyone to know about where he planned to go.

"You are going to the human world again, aren't you?"

The Sexta looked up from the pantry and at the dark haired arrancar, startled.

From the look on Grimmjow's face, Starrk sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Look, Grimmjow, I know it isn't any of my business, but you should move on. I know that you love Ulquiorra." Starrk paused, trying to find the right words to say. "But this isn't healthy. As your comrade, I know that this sounds clichéd but, I'm telling you that Ulquiorra would have wanted you to be happy."

Was he that obvious that even Starrk noticed Grimmjow's grieving over Ulquiorra? It looked like Grimmjow was not as good at masking his feelings as he thought he was.

As though reading the teal haired arrancar's mind, Starrk said, "You aren't that hard to read, you know. Ever since Ulquiorra has… passed away, you have the look of a man who is lost." Starrk stood up, his hands on the table. "Just try to forget." He walked towards Grimmjow and gripped the Sexta's shoulder. "It's for your own good."

Forget…?

Grimmjow could feel his blood boil at the Primera Espada's words. He knew that Starrk had meant well but who was he to tell Grimmjow to forget all about Ulquiorra? To say that Ulquiorra was dead? Ulquiorra was not dead. He wanted so much to tell Starrk that Schiffer was well and alive, and how wrong he was, but decided against it. Grimmjow balled his hands into fists. Starrk had no right. He had no idea what Grimmjow was going through, what Ulquiorra's death had put him through. Forgetting someone who held such a special place in his heart was not an easy task.

After a few long drawn seconds of silence, Grimmjow said, "No."

"What?"

"I said, 'No'!" Grimmjow snapped, pushing Starrk's hand off of his shoulder. "You may be the strongest Espada here, Starrk, but you don't know shit about me! Do you have any idea how hard it is to live through every day knowing that the one that you have lost is not coming back? Ever? No! Because you have never lost anyone before!"

Grimmjow closed his little bag of food and glared at Starrk. He knew that he was being rude, but he could not help it. Starrk remained silent and watched as the teal haired arrancar turned around and walked towards the door, his intention clear, his little bag slung over his shoulder.

The dark haired Espada shook his head. He was not angry at Grimmjow for yelling at him. He knew from the beginning when he broached the subject on Ulquiorra that it was a very sensitive topic to speak about to the Sexta, but it had to be done. Grimmjow had to understand that he could not go on living like this.

"Just take care of yourself, Grimmjow," he said at Grimmjow's retreating back.

Grimmjow looked at Starrk over his shoulder and nodded. "I will," he promised.

"Are you sure that he doesn't remember anything?" Captain Yamamoto asked.

Ichigo nodded. "Yes. Ulquiorra had no idea that he was fighting with his former comrade. In fact, he nearly killed Grimmjow."

The old shinigami sighed with relief. "Well, that is good then. We can't risk having him regain his memories."

The orange haired teen bit his bottom lip. He felt horrible for telling on Ulquiorra but it was necessary. It was true what Captain Yamamoto had said about it being a risk. Should Ulquiorra ever think of betraying them if he were to regain his memories, it would mean trouble for all of them. But still, the way Ulquiorra had fought Grimmjow, willing to kill the enemy at all costs, surely that meant that Ulquiorra was loyal to Soul Society?

Ichigo hesitated. "Captain Yamamoto," he began tentatively, "Don't you think that Ulquiorra should be given a chance? He has, after all, proven his loyalty to Soul Society over and over again."

"No," the old shinigami said immediately. "Like I have said, it is too risky."

"But-"

"The answer is still no, Kurosaki!" Yamamoto said sternly, making Ichigo fall silent. "And I forbid you from telling him anything! Once he learns that he is the former Cuatra Espada, he might return to Aizen's army. And we simply cannot take that risk. Do you understand me?"

Ichigo hung his head low and nodded.

"Yes," Ichigo said softly, feeling horrible as soon as the words left his lips, "I won't say anything."

Ulquiorra woke up from his slumber, rubbing at his eyes tiredly until his vision finally came into focus. When it finally did, he saw that he was in his bed room, lying snugly upon his comfortable bed. His room was simple yet tastefully furnished, and it was exceptionally neat; Ulquiorra could not stand seeing anything out of place.

The pale man had half expected to see Captain Unohana since the woman had been tending to his injury for the past few days. Ulquiorra touched the back of his head gingerly. She certainly had done a wonderful job at healing the wound. The wound was fully healed now; almost as if there had never been an injury there at all. The only proof of an injury being there at all was the fact that Ulquiorra had it committed to memory.

The emerald eyed man got out of bed slowly, letting his feet touch the cold floor before standing up and walking towards the bathroom, undressing as he did so. Once he was inside the bathroom, Schiffer turned on the shower, letting the droplets of water rain down on him.

Ulquiorra sighed.

Today was the day that they were going to hold a celebration for his becoming a captain. Ulquiorra did not see what the big deal was, but his team was adamant on having one, saying that they wanted to celebrate having a new captain after not having one for so long. Personally, Ulquiorra thought that it was just an excuse for them to party and drink but he did not say anything of it. He did not fancy the thought of being surrounded by drunken shinigamis but he had to go.

Ulquiorra pulled out some shampoo and massaged it into his scalp, enjoying the warm feel of the water running down upon his skin as he did so. He touched the back of his head again, narrowing his eyes as the memory came back to him as clear as day.

Ulquiorra felt something, someone hit him with such force that the next thing he knew, he had landed heavily to the ground, his zanpaktou knocked out of his hand with a clatter. He let out a sharp cry when his head hit the ground, pain searing through his mind and body. Feeling something wet at the back of his head, he reached up, touched the wet substance and brought it up to eye level, his blurry vision slowly coming into focus. He was bleeding.

It had been a few days since he had fought with that teal haired arrancar. Often he would wonder where he had seen the Espada before especially since the man looked vaguely familiar to him. It had been nagging at Ulquiorra a lot lately. Sometimes when he was working on paperwork, that arrancar's face would pop up in his mind, haunting him. But no matter how many times he wracked through his brains, he could not for the life of him remember who the man was. In the end, Ulquiorra would push it to the back of his mind, thinking that he must be tired. There was no way that he would forget such an individual. Especially with hair the shade of blue like that. If he did not remember the man, then he had never met him, simple as that.

And Ulquiorra was pretty sure that he had never met that arrancar.

Ulquiorra washed the shampoo out of his hair, running his fingers through raven locks before starting on slathering soap all over his form.

It was during times like these that Ulquiorra's mind would wander, wander back towards his earliest memories. He usually wondered what his past life was like. Was he married? Did he have any siblings? Was he successful in life? Alas, the earliest memory that Ulquiorra possessed was when he had first woken up in Soul Society.

Darkness. It was pitch black. The pale man tried to see, but could not. Where was he? He seemed to be lying down on the ground. He could feel the dirt under his fingers. Opening his eyes slowly, he was nearly blinded by the sunlight that shone in his eyes. Holding his hand in front of him, the man sat up and once his eyes had gotten used to the light, saw that a few people had gathered around him. They were whispering amongst themselves, staring at him.

The pale man looked around, trying to ignore the looks that he was receiving from the people. "Wh- Where am I?"

A kindly old woman who stood right in front of him replied, "You are Rukongai, my dear."

"R-Rukongai?" He blinked.

She nodded. "Yes. You are in Soul Society. This is where all souls go to after they die."

The pale man stayed silent, and looked around, slowly digesting this new piece of information. It seemed that he was in some sort of village. So he had died? He looked down upon his clothes. The villagers all seem to wear simple clothes and most of them wore something resembling rags. His clothes, however, must have looked strange compared to theirs. He was wearing a white jacket that was zipped right up to his throat and he was wearing a pair of white hakama, which was tied securely to his waist with a black sash.

So these were the clothes that he had died in?

He wondered what sort of job he had to be wearing something like that. It was extremely uncomfortable to wear in such hot weather; he was already perspiring slightly. Pushing himself up on the palm of his hands, he tried to remember something, anything that could be connected to his past life. But nothing came. The only thing that he could remember, however, was his own name and another name that clearly was not his own.

Taking pity of him, the old woman helped him up, pulling him to his feet.

"Come, dear," she said, leading him out of the small crowd that had gathered around them, curious to see the newcomer of Soul Society.

The man followed her wordlessly, still trying to take everything in, his eyes wide as he looked at his surroundings. They arrived in front of a hut which he assumed belonged to the old woman. Upon entering it, he saw that it was very small and had very little belongings. She motioned at him to sit and he did as he was told, watching her disappear into the kitchen and reappearing again.

"Here you go," she said, pushing a cup of tea into his hands. "My name is Mayumi." She sat down in front of him. "What is your name, son?"

The man stared into his cup of tea long and hard, his fingers gripping the handle of the cup tightly, his eyebrows knitted together. This was still a lot to take in. He let out a breath that he had been holding in. "My name is Ulquiorra," he said slowly. "Ulquiorra Schiffer."

"Well, Ulquiorra." Mayumi smiled kindly. "You are welcome to stay here until you are able to find a place of your own. It is just me, my husband and a couple of others staying with us now. We do not have much, but we hope that you will like it here. Here in Soul Society, everyone is family."

Ulquiorra stared into his cup of tea once more. So this was where he was going to live from now on? Here in Soul Society? With absolutely no memory that was connected to his past life except for his own name and another name?

"Thank you," Ulquiorra replied.

Who did that name belong to? Did it belong to a person or was it the name of a place? The name resounded in his mind, taunting him, telling him that it was his only connection to his past life but try as he might to reach out for it, to remember, he could not;

Grimmjow Jeagerjaques…

Once he had finished washing himself, Ulquiorra stepped out of the shower, steam rising out, obscuring his vision as he reached out blindly for a towel. When he had located it, he wrapped it around his hips and stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection. Ulquiorra touched his face, slowly dragging his fingertips from his bottom eyelid to his jaw. Who was Ulquiorra Schiffer in his past life? Was he someone important? Or was he just like every other citizen; a wallflower?

Ulquiorra bit his bottom lip.

What sort of significance did that name hold to him?

His stay with Mayumi and the rest whom he had not grown close enough to call his "family" did not last long. It was not because he was not contributing to their little "family". He had in fact found work as a waiter at some restaurant, helping to make ends meet. The reason that his stay with them did not last long was because everyone around him started getting sick. They would usually start having difficulty breathing. It was not because he stank; how he wished that that was the case at the time.

At the time, he did not know what was wrong with him and people around him started to fear him, thinking that he held some sort of strange power about him. Even Mayumi, the first person to have shown him kindness upon his arrival to Soul Society seemed to fear him. She did not need to say it for Ulquiorra to know. He could tell by the way she looked at him. Unable to take it anymore, Ulquiorra moved out and went to build a little house for himself out of wood in a nearby forest. Before he had managed to finish building the house, he would often sleep under trees, using the ground and the soft grass as a substitute for a mattress.

It was a lonely life, living all by himself in that little house, but it was much better than dealing with the looks that people gave him. He had always known that he was different, but being in their presence made him stick out like a sore thumb, made that fact even more obvious.

And Ulquiorra did not like it.

Ulquiorra dried himself as he got out of the bathroom. He had to get ready for the day and do some paperwork. And after that, he would have to attend that celebration that his team was going to hold for him. That was mere hours away since he had woken up particularly late today. But that was okay. He did not have much work to do today. Finding a clean uniform in his closet, Ulquiorra pulled it on, pulling the sleeves up his arms carefully.

It was barely two months since Ulquiorra had begun living on his own in the forest when he heard a story about a shinigami called Toushirou Hitsugaya that made him sit up. Apparently, it was rumoured that the young shinigami had gone through the same experience as he had. The boy's icy reiatsu was the cause for making his grandmother ill.

This piece of news gave Ulquiorra hope. Because it meant that there were others like him out there. Plus, it was known throughout Rukongai that the shinigami led better lives.

With this in mind, Ulquiorra decided to try out to study at the shinigami academy, hoping for a better start at his new life in Soul Society.

Ulquiorra tied the sash onto his hakama securely. He was nearly ready. Grabbing a hairbrush that was lying on the dressing table, Ulquiorra ran it through his raven locks, untangling them and straightening them out. His appearance, like his room, he liked to keep neat.

Thankfully, he had been able to get into the shinigami academy easily. It turned out that he was right; he did possess a large amount of reiatsu. This and the fact that he was both an intelligent and hardworking individual, he was able to get through all of the classes in the academy easily. He worked hard and he trained hard. Ulquiorra had received training from Urahara Kisuke who had taken some sort of interest in him, teaching him how to master Bankai within a matter of days. It was hard, and he had received numerous injuries in the process, but Ulquiorra had managed to master it. Life was certainly better. The food was better and the place he stayed at was better. But there was still one problem;

He was still an outcast.

He may be among people that were just like him, but he was still different. Some of the superiors treated him with caution, as though he was some sort of criminal. Some would eye him suspiciously, their dislike for him evident. The fact that Ulquiorra was definitely different from everyone else became more marked when he had to perform his Bankai in front of everyone during his captain proficiency test.

The moment he had released his Bankai, everyone stared at him with such horror that he wondered what he had done wrong. No one had reacted that way when the other captains performed their Bankai. Promptly after performing his Bankai, Captain Yamamoto forbade him from using it again unless deemed extremely necessary. Ulquiorra obeyed without question, but still, it made him wonder.

Was there something wrong with him?

Ulquiorra put the hairbrush down and stared at his reflection.

Well, different or not, he had proven himself worthy of becoming a shinigami. And he was now the captain of one of the 13 Protection Teams, a feat that he knew was not easy to accomplish. Taking one last look at his reflection, Ulquiorra walked out of his room, closing the door behind him as he did so. It was time to begin his day.

Grimmjow checked his bag to see if he had left anything out. Seeing that he had not, he took a deep breath and opened up a Garganta in front of him. Well, here goes nothing.

Grimmjow stepped through it.

The moment that he stepped through the Garganta, Grimmjow's foot touched the ground. Once he had stepped fully out of the portal, the Garganta closed up behind the teal haired arrancar. Grimmjow looked around. So this was Soul Society. It was certainly different from Hueco Mundo. Where Hueco Mundo was nothing but a desert, Soul Society was filled with life and plants. It was somewhat like being in the human world except that from his observations, the human world was much more advanced.

The Sexta Espada shoved his hands into his pockets, contemplating what he should do next.

Ulquiorra was here somewhere. But the question was; Where?

"Damn it," Grimmjow groaned.

This was going to be much harder than he thought. This place must be humongous. There was no way he would be able to find Ulquiorra without some sort of direction. Unless he was extremely lucky (or unlucky since Ulquiorra spotting him could mean him getting his head nicked off). Feeling someone staring at him, Grimmjow turned around and spotted a small child staring at him openmouthed.

"What?!" Grimmjow snapped. He did not appreciate being stared at.

The child winced at Grimmjow's tone but slowly raised his hand and pointed at the Sexta's abdomen.

"You have a hole in your stomach," the little boy said, stating the obvious.

Grimmjow glared. "So? What's your point? Don't you know that it is rude to stare?"

"I'm sorry, sir!" the little boy apologized.

"Nah, it's okay. I'm just in a bad mood." Grimmjow waved his hand in front of the kid. "I'll see you around."

He sighed and looked down. The kid was right though. He could not simply just walk around Soul Society in his Espada uniform with a fucking hole in his stomach and a hollow mask on his face to boot, marking the fact that he was an arrancar. Biting his cheek, Grimmjow thought hard. If he was to walk around like this, he was going to get caught easily. He would have to get some sort of disguise. But even with a disguise, he would not be able to hide his mask. Damn.

Grimmjow kicked at the ground.

This was getting more and more difficult once the problems were beginning to surface. Maybe he would be able to see Ulquiorra if he got a better view of the area? With that thought in mind, Grimmjow jumped up to the roof of the tallest house he could find and looked around. It was night time and it was really hard to make things out. Grimmjow cursed under his breath but stopped when he caught sight of a building in a distance. From the looks of it, a party was being held. The lights were turned on, the loud chatter of people enjoying themselves could be heard and Grimmjow could also see that some individuals were drinking.

Yeah.

Definitely a party.

Well, it is definitely as good a place as any to start searching for Ulquiorra, Grimmjow thought dryly. The Ulquiorra he knew certainly did not enjoy going to parties so he did not see why the present Ulquiorra would enjoy such an activity either. And so Grimmjow began looking out for other potential places to look for Ulquiorra. Seeing no potential places, Grimmjow jumped down and began to search for clothes for him to wear.

Spotting a clothes line with some clothes still hanging on it, Grimmjow grabbed a scarf, a shirt and a pair of pants that were his size.

Hey, it was either steal and stay alive or get caught and killed by the shinigami.

As Ulquiorra had expected, the celebration consisted mostly of drinking. There were so many drunken shinigami around, it was not even funny. Ulquiorra wrinkled his nose in disgust. He was not much for drinking and thought that it was an extremely disgusting and destructive habit. That did not deter the rest of the shinigami, though. Of course, they had said at the beginning of the party that this was to celebrate Ulquiorra's becoming the captain of the 5th division. Everyone had cheered for him and Ulquiorra was forced to drink some sake.

What sort of celebration was this, making him do things that he did not want to do?

Ulquiorra shook his head as he watched some of the shinigamis make utter fools of themselves. It seemed that even though this party was thrown by the 5th division, some of the shinigamis from the other divisions had taken the opportunity to crash the party. Ulquiorra was sitting in the corner, watching everyone enjoy themselves, holding his small cup of sake in his hand.

"Hey, Captain Ulquiorra!"

The emerald eyed man looked up. "Kurosaki?" he said incredulously. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be home? Don't you have school?"

The orange haired teen grinned. "Yeah, I do but it'll be fine. I'm just here to drop by for awhile."

"I see." Ulquiorra was not in the mood to talk to the young Vaizard. He was still annoyed with Kurosaki for stopping him from killing that arrancar.

But apparently, Ichigo did not take the hint that Ulquiorra did not want to speak to him because the teen suddenly took a seat in front of Ulquiorra, his face suddenly serious. "So, Captain Ulquiorra," Ichigo began.

Schiffer narrowed his eyes at Ichigo. "What?" The noise that the shinigamis were making was so loud, that Ulquiorra had to strain his ears to get what Ichigo said next;

"Do you remember anything about your past life?"

"What?" Ulquiorra stared at Ichigo, his anger forgotten. "What kind of question is that?"

"Nothing." Ichigo shrugged. "Just asking."

"Hmm." Ulquiorra regarded the young Vaizard carefully. Well, it seemed like an innocent enough of a question. But he did not feel like sharing any of this with the boy. He felt that it was personal. "No, I don't," Ulquiorra lied. "I don't remember anything about my past life." The pale man stood up, intent on leaving the building. He needed some air. "Now if you'll excuse me, Kurosaki, I'm going to get some fresh air."

"Go ahead." Ichigo waved at him lazily. "See you around, Captain."

Ulquiorra walked towards the door, his hand on the hilt of his zanpaktou.

"Hey, Ulquiorra-chan!" Yumichika sang, grabbing at his sleeve. "You look awfully beautiful tonight!"

"Ah, yes," Ulquiorra said awkwardly, removing Yumichika's hand from his sleeve. The man was obviously drunk. He would never call anyone but himself beautiful. It goes to show just how drunk the man really was. "Thank you. But I've got to go, Yumichika. I want to get some fresh air."

"Hey, Ulqui," Yumichika said, obviously not listening to Ulquiorra. "What do you think is my best feature?"

"Uhhh…" Ulquiorra had been told that if Yumichika ever asked anyone this question, he would have to answer "everything" even if he thought that Yumichika's eyes or skin might be his best feature. It has been said that if you answered anything other than "everything", Yumichika would claw at your face with his fingernails. And Ulquiorra did not want that. "Everything?"

"Really?" the dark haired man said happily. "Aww, thank youuuuu, Ulqui!" He hugged Ulquiorra, squeezing the slender man tightly.

Oh, damn. Now everyone was staring. They were all looking at Ulquiorra and Yumichika with amusement. No one had ever dared hug Ulquiorra since he gave off an air that he was untouchable. With Yumichika this close, Ulquiorra could smell the alcohol on his breath. His face red, Ulquiorra gently untangled himself from Yumichika's arms and quickly escaped out of the restaurant before anyone else could stop him.

Once outside, Ulquiorra took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

It was getting hard to breathe in there.

Ulquiorra was not used to going to social gatherings so that was extremely awkward for him. The emerald eyed man took in his surroundings. It was quiet, much to his liking. He always liked quiet. He was able to think this way without any noise to disrupt his train of thought. Often, Ulquiorra would take a walk at night. Somehow, unlike most people, he felt more comfortable with the dark. Ulquiorra leaned against the pillar outside the restaurant and looked up at the sky.

Stars were scattered across the night sky, looking very much like sparkling jewels set against a black cloth. The moon was obscured by some clouds but it was still a beautiful sight to behold. Ulquiorra loved to look up at the stars. It seemed to have a calming effect on him. That and it was somehow something that he would consider as special. Every time he looked up at starry skies, he would feel that he was not alone in the world and as though that someone was standing by his side, sharing the sight with him. Perhaps this was something that he used to do in his past life?

With a special someone? A lover, perhaps?

Perhaps.

Ulquiorra sighed.

As the wind blew past, blowing at his raven hair slightly, Ulquiorra wondered, if Grimmjow Jeagerjaques was the name of someone who held a special meaning in his past life, was Grimmjow still out there and alive? Was Grimmjow out there right now, looking for him, missing him? There were so many questions that Ulquiorra had but so far, he found no answer to any of them.

Ulquiorra watched the stars twinkle up in the sky. Tiny diamonds set against black.

Grimmjow Jeagerjaques…

He must have been special or else out of all the things that he could have remembered from his past life, Ulquiorra would not have remembered only that name.

A/N: Huh. I finally finished this. Sorry if it wasn't that great. Reviews are appreciated.