Disclaimer: Various concepts and characters have been retrieved from Dragonball Z and Bleach for this story; they belong to Akira Toriyama and Tite Kubo. Please note, however, that the plot, which is an original plot, is unrelated to the events that take place in DBZ and Bleach, meaning this is an AU fic. The OC's and plot belong to myself, and KRenee.

IX

It'd taken some effort to convince Khrai to let him leave what they'd apparently established as HQ. Truth be told, he wasn't out looking for a fight, contrary to the last time he stormed out of Juritsu's apartment. Rather, he was heading back to his place to assess the damage from the demon attack, and see if he could salvage any of his things. Not that he had a whole lot, but what he did have was important.

Grimmjow now paused at the bottom of his steps, eyeing the door. Khrai had definitely kicked off the door, and yet there it was as if nothing had ever happened. What did that mean...?

He froze upon letting himself in to the apartment. All the signs of battle had been reversed. It was like a battle against the legions of Hell had never taken place in the living room. And, standing there in the middle of it all, acting all nonchalant and whatnot, was Ralph, who blinked and glanced over at him. The blonde looked genuinely surprised to see him.

Under normal circumstances, Grimmjow probably would've been relieved to see him; the events of the past few days couple with a lack of any response in his attempts to contact the roommate had led the Espada to being wondering if maybe something had happened to Ralph. But now, however, Grimmjow was furious. Because to him, it kind of looked like Ralph was doing damage control. And if that was the case, not only did he know about the attack, he ignored any calls for help and just let it happen.

"Hey!" Ralph had a cheerful grin on his face. Either he was ignoring the fact that the Espada was livid, or he was too oblivious to realize it, "You came back sooner than I expected. How's Juritsu?"

And the fact that the blonde knew that he'd been with Juritsu confirmed his suspicions.

"Yea, you would know I was over there, wouldn't you?" Grimmjow growled lowly, eyes narrowing into an icy glare as Ralph's smile began to fade, "I bet you know a hell of a lot more than you're letting on too."

Ralph was trying to play the innocent act. "Grimmjow...?" He had a concerned glint in his Venetian blue eyes, "Are you okay?"

Gonna play that game, are we? Fine. He made a show of glancing around, indicating the pristine appearing of their abode. "Man, you sure did a good job erasing any sign of demonic activity here. We could've really used your magic powers back when the Legion was actually trashing the place."

His gaze finally fell on Ralph, who'd stiffened. "Tell me, how embarrassing was it for you when you realized that they broke through your barrier like it was an eggshell?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Ralph answered, his voice strained.

"Is that so?" Grimmjow was losing patience, fast, and he made it known by stalking up to Ralph and towering over him. Ralph didn't back down, instead holding a steady gaze. That just pissed him off even further. "I know that you set up that barrier. I know that you can cast spells that have an effect on Lily's powers. I'm pretty sure you're also well aware that Lucifer was standing in our fucking kitchen too!"

"This has nothing to do with you, Grimmjow," Ralph's tone was somewhat commanding, authoritative, "We are well aware of the coming day, and we're making preparations for it."

"Preparations my ass!" He'd had it, with the stupid defiant glare and that condescending undertone. Grimmjow grabbed the lapels of Ralph's jacket and wrenched him close. "Since your heads are too far up your asses to figure it out, I'll enlighten you: I know who the Chosen One is, and if you don't get your collective acts together, you might as well just go the fuck home and let this world burn!"

He sensed the new reiatsu signature a second too late, and the next thing he knew, a hand roughly grabbed one of his wrists, wrenching it away from Ralph.

"That is enough, Hollow," A dark-skinned man with intense, amber-colored eyes was there, a warning in both his glare and his voice, "You'd do well to learn respect."

Another one of them, was it? Grimmjow didn't care. He met this newcomer's eyes with a sneer. "Sorry; I don't recall self-righteous assholes actually deserving respect."

Wrong thing to say; an instant later, the man had slammed him into a wall, his arm pressing just a little too hard on the Espada's throat. Grimmjow spluttered, nails digging into the man's forearm to try and pry him away. If only he was as ruthless as he used to be; he wouldn't have hesitated to blast a Gran Rey Cero into the fucker's face.

"We are not obligated to earn respect from the likes of you," the man growled furiously - clearly the man took to his temper really quickly - "You are required to give it to us, as we are members of the Seven Archangels of the Lord."

"Gideon," Ralph spoke up quietly, "That's enough."

Gideon, apparently, glowered over at the blonde before roughly letting Grimmjow go. The Sexta Espada doubled over, coughing violently and heaving in gulps in air. That was close; he'd actually begun to see spots before Ralph stepped in.

"We have been observing you and your group, Hollow," Gideon was sneering now, that son of a bitch... "Your protection of Son Juritsu is pointless."

At the mention of her name, Grimmjow bristled, his reiatsu surging in response to the sudden anger that welled within. "And just what the hell is that supposed to mean, huh?!" he snarled, voice slightly ragged, "You all have been completely useless with this mess since day one!"

"Her fusion with the Devil is inevitable, as it has been foretold," Gideon shot back, "Our purpose in this is to craft and hone the weapon that will destroy her. Only when this task has been done will we have won the war and brought utopia to this world."

A weapon? What the hell was he talking about? What kind of weapon would stand any chance against the King, let alone the King fused with probably the most powerful girl he'd ever met?

These Archangels were deluded. They couldn't possibly think that would work. He knew they were gonna be useless about this whole thing but... this was ridiculous. However, if that was the way things were going to be, then so be it. Grimmjow was never one to follow orders anyway. He was going to do this his way.

The Sexta Espada stood up to his full height, meeting Gideon's amber eyes with his own cyan ones. "Well since you're going to go ahead and waste everyone's time with your bullshit, you might as well just sit the hell down," he smirked, self-assured and cocky, just to piss the heaven-sent bastards off, "Watch as I stop this war for you, you useless fucks."

Gideon's glare was murderous. "Watch your tongue, boy."

Grimmjow's smirk only widened and he let his arrogance show as clear as the sunny day. "Sorry, would love to belittle you further," he turned and began to stroll casually to the door and opening it, pausing only long enough to look over his shoulder and take in their priceless expressions, "But if you'll excuse me, I've got a world to save."

He walked out that door and didn't look back.

...

March, 2012

Statistics was a ridiculously boring class. It didn't help that the professor was literally droning at this point; the majority of the class was fighting the urge to nod off. Z-scores and T-tests... what did that have anything to do with, well, anything? It wasn't even ten minutes into the lecture before Ulquiorra started tuning out the professor. He was a guest in this class today; neither Chris nor any of the other Horsemen were members of this lecture, so he didn't need to worry about them seeing him. At least, not at the moment.

It had been a couple of months since he was retrieved from the Pit. He liked to pretend he'd never been there in the first place. Grimmjow hadn't asked him any questions about it – probably one of the few moments of decency his older brother would ever accidentally experience.

Never let it be said that Grimmjow was older. The blue-haired Arrancar didn't know. Ulquiorra had no intention of ever telling him, though he did sometimes have the urge to address the blue-haired man as 'aniki' just to see the look on his face.

He was sitting on Grimmjow's right, Juritsu on Grimmjow's left. They were midway back from the front table-row. His green eyes slid away from their unfocused position near the professor's nose and gazed around the room. On the other side of the room from them was a black-haired boy. He bore a striking resemblance to Thanatos, though his impressively active hair kept anyone from making such a mistake. Two seats down from him was a pink-haired girl, whispering back and for with her blonde girl friend. Seated in the front of the room was a kid with orange hair, his head resting in his arms – he was obviously asleep, though the professor didn't seem to be overly concerned.

Ulquiorra heard a soft sound and moved his gaze over to his left, where Grimmjow had tilted his notebook towards Juritsu. Her brown eyes swept over the paper, a controlled smile gracing her features. Grimmjow glanced over at her, their eyes meeting and mutual grins spreading across their faces. Juritsu reached over and scribbled something down on his notebook. As he angled it back towards himself, Ulquiorra read what had been written, unable to contain his curiosity. After all, it wasn't every day he got to see Grimmjow being openly affectionate with anyone.

Yea, didn't mean to be all bitchy the other day.

He hadn't realized how atrocious Grimmjow's penmanship was. The scrawl was nearly illegible.

No big deal. PMS comes around once a month after all :P

Sometimes, Ulquiorra had observed over the months since his brother's escape from Hueco Mundo, Grimmjow needlessly worried and over-thought things. Usually, he tried to cover up his fears and worries with humor and sarcasm, sometimes bordering on the kind of cynical that he had expressed distaste for in everyone else's personality. In this case, Grimmjow was worried that Juritsu would hold his alleged outburst against him. Obviously, she wasn't, but he worried anyway. Obviously, he was lonely and afraid that he'd lose his friendship with her, but he wasn't about to admit to such vulnerability. Cute.

Nah I won't have PMS for another week :P

The class ended with a homework assignment that Grimmjow was going to do as last minute as possible. The duo beside him packed up their things, the three of them standing in unison before making their way out to the hallway. First out, as usual.

The started down the hall together, Ulquiorra a half-step behind them on Grimmjow's right. He watched the way their steps fell into sync, the way Grimmjow's hand seemed to twitch every time Juritsu's hip bumped it slightly. Sexta probably wanted to wrap an arm around her waist, but wasn't sure whether it would be okay with her.

They were chatting about how fast they would have to eat to be able to get to their next class in time. Juritsu didn't have her next class with Grimmjow, but it started at the same time (though it was halfway across campus). The blue-haired man cracked a joke about not needing to worry, since Juritsu was an Olympic sprinter. The girl flushed in... embarrassment? She punched his arm lightly, retorting under her breath. Grimmjow's arm finally came up as he laughed, wrapping around her shoulders and hugging her briefly before falling away again. Ulquiorra didn't miss the fleeting disappointment in Juritsu's brown eyes, nor did he miss the flicker of uncertainty in Grimmjow's cyan ones.

They had taken a turn into "the Dining Hall," (there was only one) which Ulquiorra liked to think of as a juicy steak in a group of rabid hyenas. It was 10:36am - most students had a class within the next five minutes, so most students weren't stopping to eat. The place was still packed, reinforcing Ulquiorra's theory that this campus needed another dining hall.

"You hungry?" He looked up, surprised. Grimmjow didn't usually ask if he was hungry. And he was right to; Ulquiorra wasn't ever hungry. He was dead. Why would he be hungry?

His stomach clenched painfully, but not with nausea. He made a face, and Grimmjow snickered at him. Was this hunger? He'd been dead and without the need to pay attention to his diet for such a long time, he'd forgotten what hungry felt like. Then again, it was also possible that he'd developed stomach cancer.

"Urahara makes them as human as possible. You get hungry in these things."

Right. He was in a gigai. He'd almost forgotten.

"I don't like it." He grunted, trying to ignore the way his throat was clenching around the empty nausea in his gut. This was awful. This was probably the reason he'd died; suicide after deciding that being hungry was too painful to have to live with.

"The hunger sucks, but the food makes it totally worth it," Grimmjow had a smirk on his face as he handed the Fourth a tray, "Anything you want in particular?"

There was a long pause that occurred more in Ulquiorra's head than in reality. What did he want? Food? What kind of question was that? He had half a mind to tell Grimmjow to stop being an ass, but he held back. It was entirely possible that his blue-haired brother had never even considered the possibility of going hundreds of years in death without ever consuming regular things like... whatever that stuff was.

Ulquiorra looked over at Grimmjow, completely lost. Judging by the responding surprise in those blue eyes, his complete cluelessness was probably written all over his face.

The Sixth hummed, glancing at the line-up of various food items. "Well... do you know what kind of food you like?" he asked after a long moment.

Ulquiorra frowned, looking among the endless, stupidly colorful assortments. None of it looked familiar. Nothing was triggering any memories, either. He wondered if this was stupid; what kind of existence didn't even know what kind of food they liked? Was it pretty dumb that he'd gone a good five hundred years without ever sticking anything in his mouth just to see if it had a flavor? Or was it Grimmjow who was strange?

"I don't remember," he muttered, wondering if Grimmjow had even heard that. Then, a little louder, he stated, "I don't like black tea." It was the one thing he'd tasted since his death, courtesy of Aizen Sousuke. He hated it.

"Well, that's a start..." Another pause, and then Grimmjow began grabbing several small portions of each and placing them on Ulquiorra's tray, "Sample until you find things you like. Best part about this place is that it's buffet; you can literally have as much as you want."

With the amount of decent and horrible smells clashing against his sense, Ulquiorra wasn't sure if he wanted anything. Grimmjow went his own way to find whatever he wanted - probably the standard meat and potato-esque meal that he seemed to thrive on. He knew there was an order in food flavor; sweet and salty, hot and cold. Then there were bitter things, like black tea. He didn't like bitter. One of the objects on his plate was a pastry – was that a cookie or a brownie? So many names for these things, he never really got a hang of them after he died. He knew they were sweet. He knew what chocolate looked like.

He picked up the round pastry, looking it over thoughtfully. Chocolate chip brownie? Chocolate chip cookie? The latter sounded right. He took a bite, chewed, swallowed. His jaw protested the amount of use. His tongue had a cardiac arrest, and he felt it hit rock bottom in his stomach. Apparently, eating for the first time was going to be horrible.

He liked cookies. A lot. Sweet things. Sweet things had a specific aroma to them. He could work with this. Cookies were also hard, not soft. He preferred the feeling of chewing over the swishing one did with things like pudding. Somehow, the desserts that Grimmjow had unwittingly thrown onto his tray were teaching him a lot. He discovered he liked fruit salad. A lot. His tongue was tickled by the amount of flavors he'd been pushing it to try.

I think that's enough taste-testing for today. He thought, taking a brief second to hunt down Grimmjow's reiatsu. It turned out to be easier to just look for him - that particular shade of blue was hard to miss, after all.

"Fruit salad?"

Ulquiorra nodded at his brother's question as he sat down, noting the curiosity in Juritsu's gaze. Grimmjow didn't tell her much about their interactions, it seemed. He wondered if that was defensive (there was a secret to be kept, after all) or if it wasn't the most comfortable topic (I hate him but he's my favorite dude), "I've come to like sweet things."

"Hey, not everyone has to eat like you," Juritsu playfully spoke up, sticking her tongue out, glancing over at Ulquiorra with a friendly smile, indicating her own bowl of the healthy treat, "Fruit salad is a wise choice."

He nodded in agreement past his working jaw. Supposedly, one was supposed to chew 42 times before swallowing, but he was finding that he could get by with 23. Why did people bother to count things like that, anyway? Humans had a lot of variety; the width and strength of the throat muscles and the size of the mouth and teeth would give the impression that some people had to chew more than others, and vice versa.

The table was a small one. Juritsu had one side, Grimmjow had the side to her right, and Ulquiorra was across from her. They could probably fit a fourth person on the fourth side of the small square, but Grimmjow would have to put his basket of fries in his lap.

From this angle, he could really see the way they interacting. It was interesting to watch. He had read a lot of books in his time as a dead person (sometimes being so immature as to rearrange sections of a library after hours), and he had seen many depictions of affection and anxiety written as separate entities. Here, he was observing the two mutual exclusive mental processes working in some kind of rough-play harmony.

Juritsu wasn't sure whether it was okay for her hand to be less than two inches away from Grimmjow's, but she definitely noticed the way her conversational partner kept adjusting his hand closer to hers. Grimmjow wanted to slide his hand closer to Juritsu's, maybe press their pinky fingers together, but he wasn't sure if she was okay with that because she kept moving her hand away. They were so obviously interested in each other - however deeply was debatable. Ulquiorra wondered why they were having such a difficult time establishing where they were exactly in their affectionate relationship. It was like a very intimate professional environment laced with should-I's and can-I's.

He had half a mind to reach across the table, grab their hands, and forcibly put them together. He wouldn't, of course, but it was still kind of tempting. He hadn't seen such a strange intimacy since the one that had blossomed randomly between Neliel and Nnoitra (the one that had resulted in too many casualties and not enough make-up sex).

Neliel was the only one he'd tried to save.

No.

The nausea came suddenly, and he wondered if he was going to regret eating every time Grimmjow persuaded him to. Persuade, because he was going to have to force the issue if he wanted Ulquiorra to swallow anything after this. He pressed his fork into a pale grape, watching excess amounts of juice ooze out of the little holes the pressure made.

He could hear her screams from within the cave, where he'd told them she was hiding. He'd tried so hard, and for so long, to keep that one last companion safe.

I did what I had to...

Liar. You did what you wanted to.

"Ulquiorra?" He wondered if that wince was as violent as it'd felt. He looked up, finding the duo staring at him with mild concern in their eyes. He wondered if his face was pale (if that was even possible, considering his usual complexion). He wondered if maybe they could see his gigai's heart thumping painfully hard in his chest, or if his carotid was throbbing stronger than it should've been.

"What's up?" Grimmjow asked slowly, and by taking in the Sexta's expression, Ulquiorra could see genuine worry. A strange thing, being on the receiving end of that kind of gaze from Grimmjow, of all people. "You look sick."

He wondered if he should reply truthfully, or if he should do the standard "I'm fine" that had replaced any forms of honesty the human race once had. He wasn't even sure he wanted to open his mouth at this point.

It came on abruptly, the feeling of being small, weak, a slight but building feeling of anxiety, of endless pressure, horrible expectations suddenly pushing down on him, crushing his chest and refusing to let up.

But he could handle it. This happened every now and then, ever since… He diverted his attention back to the bowl in front of him, stilled himself, concentrated on timing his breathing; ten seconds in, ten seconds out. He pushed a pineapple around the edges of his bowl, counting all 360 degrees as he went.

"It's nothing," he finally answered as the pressure in his chest eased up. He looked up and forced his best I'm okay look. Neither of them was convinced, but they didn't ask any more questions. He didn't finish his fruit salad. His stomach didn't seem to mind.

Fourteen minutes later, Grimmjow had turned down a separate path from Juritsu, heading for a different class. Ulquiorra somehow found himself focusing unnaturally hard on keeping his footsteps in rhythm with his brother's. It was actually a bit hard to do that and still keep up with him. Grimmjow's stride was approximately-

"It takes some getting used to," the blue-haired Arrancar suddenly spoke up, completely wrecking his companion's train of thought. When Ulquiorra gave him a quizzical glance, he clarified. "The gigai, I mean."

I actually think I preferred knowing how to be dead.

"Did it take long for you to get used to it? You seem pretty well adjusted," he remarked. "If not like a whole different person."

Grimmjow snorted. "You're one to talk, with your magically appearing sense of humor."

Ulquiorra returned his attention to the paved path in front of him, "I've always had a sense of humor, Grimmjow. Just not one as refined as yours."

"If you say so," Grimmjow shot back easily, glancing around at the passerby. "Honestly the hardest thing I had to get used to was having emotions again."

That one was a little hard to believe.

"I didn't realize you had problems with emotion, Grimmjow," the green-eyed man reply, furrowing his brow at the sidewalk, "I don't ever recall you finding difficulty being angry."

The Sexta Espada rolled his eyes. "No, besides anger, you retard. I used to be angry and I used to not give a fuck. Now, I actually have... a conscience."

A conscience, huh? The dictionary definition of a conscience was 'an inner feeling or voice viewed as acting as a guide to the rightness or wrongness of one's behavior.' He fell silent for a long moment, thinking about the prospect of a conscience.

"I wish I didn't," turned out to be the only thing he was able to reach a concrete decision on. Grimmjow glanced at him questioningly, and he could see a glimmer of uncertainly in his blue eyes. He was taken aback, obviously, and he wasn't sure what to do. This was Grimmjow and this was Ulquiorra, after all. Conversations like this just never happened.

This wasn't something he wanted to dig up and share; recovering from the trauma of watching Lucifer tear into everyone, everyone had been enough the first time. He would not talk about this.

"For a long time, I forgot you were still alive. I thought I was the only one left. It was... very relieving to see you again... it lessened the guilt a little." He huffed out a breath, the rest of his words leaving him. He hoped Grimmjow wouldn't ask any more questions. He would not tell his brother about what had actually happened in Hueco Mundo. It would probably be better if he didn't know the exact details. Whether it be horror or grief, Grimmjow still had a tendency to deal with things via violence and anger.

And he didn't want to be punched. Not today. His head already hurt.

Grimmjow's eyes shone an understanding, even sympathy, as his gaze averted to the sidewalk as they approached a building (likely where his class was). "Sometimes, it's about survival," he spoke slowly, almost hesitantly, like he wasn't sure if this was what Ulquiorra wanted to hear, per say, "That doesn't make it any easier, but when it comes down to it, it's either you or them..."

His brother was right to be hesitant, since this was definitely not what he wanted to hear. His fists clenched tightly, stomach twisting painfully. It hadn't been that simple; he'd spent days protecting Neliel. Halibel had given her life to give them time to escape the immediate battlefield, maybe even survive in the end. He'd done everything he could to protect Neliel, keeping her calm and quiet, tending to her when she got hurt...

But when he was scouting ahead, they caught up to him. Lucifer grabbing him, slamming him down, rotten breath hot against his face, pearly white teeth they were so sharp but he knew that they wouldn't kill him right away no the King would want to feel him writhe, grinning and laughing at his struggles. He hadn't even been entirely aware of himself until his throat had started working, Latin tumbling out of his mouth, begging helplessly I'll do anything you want please don't kill me I'll do anything anything.

He'd led them back to the cavern where Neliel was hiding, waiting for him. They made him watch.

You don't understand, "It wasn't..." I wasn't just defending myself. I gave her up to them. She might've lived if I'd been willing to die.

He stopped in his tracks, his head bowed against the wonderful warmth of the sun, the clear blue sky. He wished it would rain.

"I get it," Grimmjow quietly replied, "The difference between you and me, is that you actually cared about what you were doing."

The man might as well have just cero'd Ulquiorra in the chest. He couldn't do this. Not now. Probably not ever. He didn't want to have this conversation, and he wasn't entirely sure that Grimmjow did either. This wasn't like them. The comfort of Grimmjow still being an asshole towards him was gone, replaced by genuine caring, and he didn't want it.

He froze up, couldn't find words to match what he was trying to lie about, "Chris... coming this way, I... think..." he grunted, mumbling incoherently about going off to find Kaisuki. he was sure Grimmjow didn't believe that Chris was coming this way, but he did not care. He turned away, walking swiftly across the quad.

He didn't know what he'd been expecting; to be yelled at or forgiven. Being yelled at, beaten upon, kicked to the curb... that would've been better. It would've made more sense. After what he'd done, there was no logical reason for Grimmjow to be so understanding and caring and sympathetic... Grimmjow should've told him he was a cold-hearted bastard, because that was just what Grimmjow did. The concept of that familiar hatred had been more comforting than anything he'd encountered since that massacre in Hueco Mundo. And, for some reason, he had yet to receive it.

Kaisuki - well, Khrai, actually - was walking out of the largest building on campus - the physical sciences building. She spotted him walking towards her and paused in her steps, allowing him to catch up.

"Hey," she greeted easily, "How's the bod?"

It took longer than it should've, but he managed to find the words after a moment of jumbling around nouns and verbs in his head, "It's different, but I'm adjusting."

Khrai nodded, humming in agreement, "Grimmjow-nen's drivin' you crazy?"

Was that a trick question? "You... might say that."

"You recovered a lot better n' a lot faster than I thought you would," she suddenly said after a long pause, "I was expecting to have to coddle an' spoon feed you for at least a week after I gotcha back from the Pit, but you surprised me. I gotta say, for a dude, you're one tough cookie."

"Thank you... I think."

Kaisuki's classes were more interesting than Grimmjow's. She was a psychology major, and Khrai was less interested in making idle conversation with him. She didn't seem to mind his silence. She didn't ask why he'd decided to join her instead of sticking with Grimmjow, she didn't question his general somberness. There was significantly less pressure to be a regular person around Khrai, which might've been because she cared the least out of anyone he'd ever met.

Two hours of abnormal psychology later, they were standing in front of a soda machine down the hall from the class, which had just ended. Ulquiorra stared at the Sierra Mist he held as Khrai got a Pepsi.

"Do you wanna try both and see which you prefer?"

His brow furrowed at that question. Did she not know which one she liked? "Well, which would do you not prefer?"

"I like 'em both equally," oh, duh, "Don't matter to me."

He tasted them both. The Pepsi was preferable to him, and Khrai was more than willing to accommodate. They walked back down the hallway in silence, reaching the exit door. If he remembered correctly, this was Kaisuki's last scheduled class of the day, so they would be heading home. Grimmjow would've left campus with Juritsu already (which was the main reason Ulquiorra had joined Khrai and not Juritsu). The walk off campus was entirely a downhill trek, so he didn't expect it to take long.

"Kaisuki," he started, immediately recognizing the voice calling from behind them.

Khrai slowed to a stop, "Stay with me, Ulquiorra-nen," she muttered before turning around to face the approaching man. Thad stopped two feet away, his eyes lingering on Ulquiorra for a long, intense moment. Abruptly, he felt a pair of strong hands encircle his elbow and pull him behind his companion.

The woman's eyes flashed blue and stayed that way, fierce and unforgiving, "Kaisuki-nan's not in today."

Thad seemed slightly put off by that, perhaps even a little apprehensive. Khrai continued, "I can take a message for you, though."

"I seek an audience with Saeka."

"No."

The response was so firm and calm, it surprised both Thad and Ulquiorra. No? Without even witty remark or a mean insult at the end? Just no?

"It is of-..."

"I don't care, Thanatos-nen." She snarled, her voice low and threatening, "You lost privilege wit' me when you attacked my hostess."

Ulquiorra's eyes flicked back and forth between Thad and Khrai, watching the way Death's face slowly started to lose color. Thad clenched his fists, jaw tightening and eyes glazing over. Blood oozed around the corner of his lips as he suddenly collapsed to his knees, coughing up crimson liquid into the grass. Nearby, Ulquiorra heard someone yelling to call 9-1-1, he saw Judas hiding behind a building nearby, hazel eyes wide and disbelieving, perhaps betraying a hint of fear. Thad's wheezing was getting louder and more hoarse, the sound of sirens growing in the distance.

Khrai squatted down, sitting on her haunches, "Thad-nen," the man in question managed to raise his head, bloodied teeth bared with fury as his eyes flicked back and forth between Ulquiorra and Khrai, "Tell your boss that Saeka-nan wants him to go fuck himself."

She straightened up, grabbing Ulquiorra's elbow and dragging him away, eventually pulling him into a sprint. They ran off campus and then three more blocks before slowing down. Khrai was grinning when she turned to Ulquiorra, but the expression faded. He wondered what kind of expression he'd been wearing.

"Whassup?"

"They know I'm..." he trailed off and lowered his head, suddenly unsure of whether his worries were valid or not.

"Don't worry," He didn't raise his gaze at her reassurance. She reached over and roughly grabbed his shoulder, "Hey, I mean it. Look at me, Ulquiorra-nen."

Ulquiorra obediently raised his eyes, finding the most unwavering confidence he'd ever seen. She smiled at him, a promising look, "You don't need to worry. We're lookin' out for each other. All of us."

Somehow, that reassured him. A lot. Mainly because it was rational; it made sense to be comforted by those words. Khrai wasn't promising they wouldn't get hurt, or that she'd keep him safe from all harm. They were all looking out for one another, and that was completely true. He had three strong spirits, a Yurei, the Chosen One, and Grimmjow looking out for him. Just like Grimmjow had three strong spirits, a Yurei, the Chosen One, and Ulquiorra looking out for him, and so on.

It wasn't as big a burden when there were others helping him.

"I'll keep you safe, Neliel. I promise."

This time, it wasn't a promise. But this time, he felt, it would work out alright in the end

A/N: Another chapter for your reading pleasure. Enjoy!

- G