It was customary for Mayuri Kurotsuchi to ignore screams of agony, even from his own Division members, and there was little about the current cries echoing mutedly down the chamber corridors of the subterranean depths of Szayel Aporro's lab of Hueco Mundo to make him think a second look – or even a first look – was necessary.

He turned back to his work on the third of the numerous storage rooms he'd discovered of the former Las Noches researcher. He'd taken great delight in the findings of the first lab rooms. It was all below par in research and stock tissue samples than Kurotsuchi's own research facility in Soul Society, but the Espada's methods were semi-interesting. Clinically-challenged and tainted by the flamboyant researcher's ego, but still somewhat interesting, Kurotsuchi had decided.

"What?" he snapped to Nemu who had dared ask a question for the second time.

She stood composed as usual, awaiting his answer to her query. "Would you like me to look into the matter in the next sector, Captain?"

Kurotsuchi's eyes were fastened on the records Szayel had kept of his experiments in assorted hollowfication and Hyogoku research. "No need, Nemu. If those imbeciles cannot handle a simple detoxification of a closet, then they deserve to die from fear." He grinned at the findings Szayel had recorded, oblivious to his underlings around him that were carefully packing another shipment of equipment for transport back to his Division laboratory. It was a sterile room, as the first two had been, and hadn't been used in quite some time. The smell of gangrene from once living tissue had begun to escape from several compartments in the sample closets.

A gargled scream reverberated from a lower room.

Kurotsuchi's eyes narrowed. "I'll poison them myself if they don't shut their feeble mouths," he growled. He flicked off the screen to Szayel's research findings on the monitor he'd been studying and turned to Nemu. As he did, one of his unseateds passed down the hall to the open doorway to the room.

The black-robed figure paused, looking in at the shinigami captain and vice-captain. For all appearances it looked like the unseated member of Twelfth Division that it was, but the glance behind the eyes was bitterer than any of Kurotsuchi's members would summon to level on the captain.

Kurotsuchi huffed at him. "You insubordinate little snot," he said indignantly, "you do not acknowledge your captain? What sort of ..."

But the unseated shinigami had moved on, letting the heavily made-up captain ramble threats and insults into empty air as it made its way up the corridors of the lab vault.

Once outside at the opening of the cavernous lab, the shinigami dropped to his knees and belched up a slimy casing that appeared to be a large worm. The shinigami fell to one side, its interior depleted of anything resembling a spiritual presence as the casing rapidly formed into the Octava Espada.

Or, at least a reasonable version of the original Espada researcher; Szayel Aporro Granz wanted no competition in his field of study, even among his future selves. None of his reproductions in the underground lab were complete clones of himself.

What was reproduced from the host shinigami was purely science. And vengeance.

He wiped down his slimy body, the spirit particles in the Hueco Mundo atmosphere invading his flesh to round out his thin form. He scowled at his nakedness, and then looked to the collapsing shinigami's robes.

With a despairing sigh, he set about removing the Twelfth Division member's uniform. What was left was an emaciated corpse, void of any spiritual presence.

The reconstructed duplicate of Szayel shrugged into the black robes and pants, grumbling. He was without some of what had made Szayel Aporro Granz an Espada, but there would be time to determine that matter later.

Soul Reapers had absolutely no sense of fashion, he decided, fastening the obi at his waist. What a dull style of clothing. His slim fingers rubbed his chest where Kurotsuchi's sword had lingered at his death. That Szayel recalled with clarity.

Without a glance back to the cave, Szayel set his sights on checking up on one of his favorite testing experiments.

Orihime Inoue should be entering the third stage of her regimen about then.

Southern Kentucky was not Michigan, Renji was learning. Over the course of the twisting twenty-some mile drive that felt like fifty from the airport in Pikeville to what was simply called Chesney Hollow he'd seen signs for places like Hazard and The Breaks, but no bluegrass, as the map of the state had boasted.

He grimaced as the taxi took another abrupt turn in the road. Everything had been around a bend or down a swoop of highway, and they'd been traveling up a mountain or down one for nearly an hour since the airport in Pikeville.

It hadn't been Renji's idea to fly – none of the trip had been his idea – but Captain Unohana had insisted, and not many shinigami, male or female, chanced to stand against the Fourth Division's seemingly serene captain. Renji knew better than to question too many of her suggestions; after all, Fourth was where one went to get healed, and he'd spent considerably time there.

"... and over there's Virginie, if you go far enough," the taxi driver was saying, grinning through stained teeth. "Other side of The Breaks. Say, where you from again?"

"Tokyo," Renji said for the third time. He was in the passenger seat of the car's front, and gladly so. The driver had a habit of spitting tobacco juice outside his open window and the backseat window glass was streaked with brown. "How much farther?"

"Oh, just a while."

Just a while had been half a dozen dizzying turns ago. Renji clamped his mouth shut and looked out the window again. Horses were everywhere in the state. Black fences ran over acres of green pastures, horses of every color collected inside. He'd given up counting them. The landscape turned from rolling to choppy and then mountainous, and as the taxi meandered off the highway onto a narrower side road, Renji's nerves grew.

He knew Captain Unohana was capable, but he'd gotten less instruction on this assignment than the previous time he'd taken Orihime under protection. He knew little, save that she'd had a run-in with some modification process Urahara had diagnosed, and that the general opinion was that she was fully recovering.

But he'd gotten no gadgets, no sensory tracking watch, no bracelet for Orihime. No timeframe.

What he had gotten was the distinct feeling that any hint of Hollow in anyone – especially among the Living – was enough to put everyone on higher alert in Seireitei. Aizen had made many new suspicions possible, and Renji wasn't sure exactly how suspicious the Council of Forty-Six would take matters of a delayed soul modification in anyone.

The taxi swung around another sharp turn and climbed steeper into the heavily treed road that snaked up the mountain. To Renji's right the shoulder off the pavement dropped abruptly into a ravine.

Shit, he thought. He hadn't driven in a year.

That was one of the reasons he'd told Isane he'd take a taxi from the airport. He was none too sure about the tall lieutenant's driving abilities. Isane wasn't the most steady-headed mind when she was sent to the Living world.

The road dissolved into a thicker treed part of the mountainside, with small houses on either side of it as the pavement cut between a break in the slope. The houses were spaced wide apart and set back off from the roadside, most hidden by clumps of trees and shrubs, but farther off the elevation still apparent as the tops of trees on the next mountain broke at uneven angles in the distance.

Already Renji was lost. If Soul Society wanted Orihime to get lost, they'd succeeded all too well this time.

Any deeper into the mountain and Renji figured they'd have to shunpo out. "Where's the next town?" he asked the driver.

"Oh, not too far."

Renji was getting tired of that answer, and was about to get more details when the taxi slowed and made a turn into a driveway crowded with unkempt shrubs.

"You want 4221, right?" the driver asked through a plug of tobacco, looking to Renji with a grin.

Renji nodded, watching as the taxi made another twist of a turn that put them before a small two-story house.

"Then we're here."

Renji opened the door as the driver shifted into park, the humid air of the afternoon hitting him square in the chest.

The driver spat out the window. "You ain't got no bags, so I'll take my fare now. Forty-two fifty."

Renji nodded at him, ignoring the hand the man extended. "You've got a passenger to take back to the airport. Just wait. I'll pay you before you leave."

"It'll cost you."

Renji slammed the door. "I know. Just wait."

He turned and gave the house a better look. It was small, gray-sided, with dormer windows sticking out one side of the roof, surrounded by mature broadleaf trees, and birds and bugs, so it sounded.

A modest cream-colored car was to the side in the drive farther back.

Renji frowned at it. Why not a truck? He'd seen enough trucks on the roads from the airport to know that trucks were second only to horses in population.

A wide porch ran the length of the front of the house, and the door there opened as he finished his casual study of the premises.

Isane looked out, giving him an immediate frown.

"No luggage, Renji?" she asked. "Aren't you staying?"

He nodded, taking the few steps over the uneven patio stones that made up the walk to the porch. "The baggage conveyor ate my luggage."

She giggled. "Come on in."

He crossed the porch and followed her inside, eyes going over the modest front room. Hardwood flooring stretched to the kitchen beyond that was divided by a wall with a love seat and pedestal lamp built into an end table. He looked to his left to see what looked like an ancient television set.

Isane noticed his attention. "It works."

He nodded. "Your ride is waiting outside, so if you're packed, we can go over the details now." He looked to the wall dividing the two main rooms as footsteps sounded. "Unless you want us to drive you later," he said to Isane.

She shook her head, plunging her hands deeper into her front jean pockets. "I'm ready now."

"Hi, Renji," Orihime greeted from the kitchen entryway. She smiled, looking as American as she could in white canvas Capris and a peach tank top.

He couldn't help but let his glance go to where the X had marked the spot on the female figure on his work detail that he'd studied on the plane flight earlier.

Orihime blushed a little, fingers pulling the ends of her ponytail over her chest more.

"Hey, back in the States, huh?" He knew she'd noticed his attention, but habits were hard to break, despite the reasons behind them. "Feeling okay?"

She nodded. "Yup. Oh, where are all your bags?"

He explained his lack of luggage as they sat at the table in the kitchen, ever mindful of the meter running in the taxi outside. Orihime nodded, and immediately began detailing a list of things he needed to get in town when they next went.

Isane stripped off the watch from her wrist with more enthusiasm than she cared to admit. "I guess you can use this one," she said, handing him the decidedly delicate timepiece. "If it'll fit."

He looked at the thin beige watchband and small gold face. "I doubt it." He tried to wrap it around his wrist. There was a half inch gap. "Well, guess I'll carry it."

"They didn't give you a watch?" Orihime asked, pen paused over the list she was making. So far the strip of paper only had two words written on it.

Renji glanced to her wrist where a coral bangle was locked. "No. No one said anything about one this time." He leaned back and stuck the watch in his front jeans pocket. "I guess they figured I'd use yours," he said to Isane.

She nodded. "Well, I'll tell Captain it doesn't fit. I'm sure she'll send another for you."

He saw her look to Orihime, and recognized the bedside manner slip over her posture.

"I suppose he won't want my room," she said leadingly to the Living girl.

Orihime nodded, eyes on the list. "I already made up the front bedroom upstairs."

"You didn't have to do that," he said. "I can get my own –"

The taxi horn sounded from outside.

Isane sighed. "I guess I should go over the details."

Orihime looked to her, then Renji, and then smiled brightly and stood up. "Oh, of course. Yes. I'll...I'll go get ...your stuff."

"No, I didn't mean that," Isane said, but Orihime was already dashing up the staircase, the steps creaking in a few spots.

"I'll bring her stuff down in a minute," Renji called after her.

Isane stood. "Okay, I'll be quick about it, Renji," she said, her tone lowering. "She's okay, physically. There's no sign of any hollowfication abnormalities. She seems okay, I guess. But she has some habits – I don't know – that are just uncharacteristic of human nature."

He grinned, wanting to laugh, but didn't. Nor did he recite any of the speech he'd prepared to get her to stay on. He stood up and looked to the staircase that emptied into the kitchen near the front room juncture. "She's got quirks."

Isane shrugged. "I guess. It's all in my reports. They're in the desk in my room upstairs. You fill them out in duplicate every other day unless there's an issue, and you have to complete all the pertinent sections, Renji."

He frowned.

She nodded. "She knows you've got to ask, so just get over the awkward parts or let her check those blanks."

He shook his head. "I can't –"

"You don't have to examine her, Abarai," she said sharply. "Geez, just a few questions. Unless something goes wrong, and in that case you call Captain Unohana immediately."

He scowled, one hand going to his Soul Society communicator in his back pocket where he also had her ticket for her flight home. "Do our communicators work out here, or do the mountains interfere with that reception, too?"

She nodded. "Mine works. Anyway, this is more about observation. She's followed the regimen Urahara-san started, so it's a matter of waiting."

He handed her the plane ticket. "Guess you're on your way home."

She nodded, looking at the ticket. "She's a nice girl, but..." she shrugged, sighing, making a face Renji knew carried what Shuuhei Hisagi would call that pained unease that kept her awake at night with bad dreams.

They both glanced to the staircase as Orihime came down, two bags slung over her shoulder and dragging a large wheeled tote.

"I would've got those," Renji said, taking the bags from her.

"That's okay. It was all downhill," Orihime said, blowing a loose stand of auburn hair from her face. She looked to Isane. "It was very nice to meet you, Vice Captain Kotetsu. Thank you for staying with me."

For a brief movement a flicker of doubt came over Isane's timid expression. She caught the frown before it formed as she returned the sincerity in Orihime's face. "Oh, I'm glad we had a chance to meet, Orihime. I don't know many Living people. But," she said, pausing as she looked to Renji, rethinking her appeal to her captain, "well, Renji knows you better than I, and you really should be under the care of someone familiar with your habits."

Renji's grip tightened on the bag handles. "Ready?"

Isane nodded.

It took less than five minutes to have Isane packed into the taxi and the driver paid. For a few self-conscious seconds Orihime and Renji looked at each other on the porch, and Renji got the idea it was going to be worse than he thought.

Orihime seemed to feel the same way. "Want to see the house?" she offered.

"Sure."

He followed her through the front room of the house again.

"It's small here, but there's a good breeze upstairs in the evening, and we need it, because it gets hot here, Renji," she told him, leading the way into the kitchen.

"You've seen the kitchen," she said needlessly, gesturing to the back screen door at the far side of the room where a small porch was attached. "There's no garage. Sorry."

"No problem." He looked through the window over the sink. "Any neighbors?"

She nodded, smiling fuller. "There's an old lady across the street. Widow Mayes, but we haven't met her yet. She waved yesterday when she was at the mailbox. She has animals. Chickens, and sheep, I think."

"How do you know she's a widow if you haven't met her yet?"

"Oh, some guy was by there the last few days, yelling for her." She climbed the steps before him, which was a little narrower than most cases. At the top of the landing the second floor leveled out to the back of the house. "I think he was a handyman. He was talking loudly and calling her Widow Mayes."

He nodded, stopping when she did at the first bedroom. He looked out the window there at the bedroom's doorway. It overlooked the front yard, which was slightly sloped to the curving drive. It was a simple yard, easy to defend with its enclosure of shaggy privacy shrubs. To either side were thick woods of broadleaf trees, and beyond those he could see no other houses. From his vantage of the second level the top of another house was visible across the road, sitting farther back.

"There aren't many people on this road," Orihime said from the open doorway as she watched him study the new surroundings. "It's so quiet at night."

He nodded, this time keeping his eyes off her tank top. "Are you all right? I know you had some trouble with a few things."

She nodded, her smile immediate, even if a bit dimmer than most he'd seen on her. "It's just mostly a cough now." She bit her lower lip, looking nervously into the bedroom painted tan. "Isane left the sword here. I guess since you have no luggage that we should go shopping tomorrow. Unless you want to go tonight, but there really isn't much in the closest town. Just small shops."

"We'll go tomorrow."

She nodded and continued down the hall to the next few rooms. "The bathroom," she said, nodding to the pink wallpapered room before they passed another bedroom. "Isane had this room, and then I have the last one." She stopped at the rear bedroom painted pale lavender. She looked at the double windows that had a view out over the back yard. "It's just grass and a small garden that's overgrown. I'm not sure what's planted in it yet."

He stepped into the room and looked out the windows to see the yard. The small plot of garden was indeed overrun with weeds and grass. The back of the yard abutted more trees and shrubs. He glanced to where Orihime's bags were set to one side by a closet. "You haven't unpacked yet?"

A sigh escaped her, followed by a short cough.

He glanced back quickly to her. "You're sure you're okay?"

She waved off his look of wary alarm. "Just catches every now and then. Urahara-san said it would happen." She took a deep careful breath. "All better."

He nodded, halting beside her at the doorway. "How long have you been here?"

"Three days." She stepped to one side as he left the room and then followed him down the hall.

"You've already been to town?"

She nodded as they descended the staircase. "We had to get groceries. No one delivers pizza out here, Renji."

He groaned for more reason than one.

"We're stocked up," she added as they went into the kitchen. "I hope you like oatmeal."

He frowned until he recalled what Shuuhei had said about Isane. "Oh, is that what you're stocked up with?"

She nodded. "Lots of it."

He watched her hand go to her chest, her fingers curling away from her collar when she realized he'd noticed.

Her eyes dropped to his hands. Doubt seeped into her face as she looked to him. "You don't have a ring on, Renji. Are you using something different to change into shinigami?"

He was hoping she wouldn't be so observant. He certainly didn't want to think about it. He'd already made the call to Soul Society over the matter, already gotten an earful from his captain about it. "No. It was lost in my luggage that got torn up at the airport."

This time the misgivings were plain on her face. "You're all human? Living? You can't become shinigami?"

Damn, it sounded so brutally weak aloud, Renji thought. "That's what it means, Orihime." He grinned, hoping she'd smile at least a little and wipe that shock off her face. "Just temporarily."

She mustered up part of a smile. "Oh. I see." She nodded, smiling more. "Okay."