[AliCe In Chains]

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

[Unbound- The Wild Ride]


He sat on the couch, daintily sipping tea, when the one whom he came to visit "returned"- meaning he decided to take it upon himself to finally reveal his presence. As if from nothing, he arrived- suddenly standing there before him with his hands in his pockets, as if he had been there all along, observing him, for some time. It was an interesting feeling, being watched through those empty eyes.

He smiled.

"Good evening Ulquiorra."

And that sunken gaze, impossibly sharp, although it seemed to peer at the world from the bottom of some pit to hell, stared through him as if he weren't there. As if he weren't even there. But Ah- it was not as before, when those passionless eyes stared at him as if he were nothing more than filth littering the sidewalk, when those eyes stared at him as if he were hardly worthy of being on the receiving end of them. It had never been simple disgust, never been outright arrogance- he didn't dare to sum up that gaze with a word as simple as hate. No, no- he understood it very well.

He couldn't be individually hated, loathed-for this man to do such a thing would be for him to acknowledge that the trivial world had any kind of hold on him, a claim to attachment through that single emotion. Emotion that he himself did not seem to possess, but could hardly begin to understand- only analyze, interpret, bend as the occasion called for in order to interpret his will. Or to mold, the malleable wills of those around him.

No- this gaze was different. This gaze wasn't like that. This gaze was…before it, he was a waste of space- but a necessary tribulation dealt with in order to survive. No…before this gaze, he was nothing. Nothing. But now?

He smiled into the rim of his cup, breathing deeply of its flavor, breathing deeply of some small victory which even he refused to admit before those impossibly cold eyes. He tried to keep his voice light, casual- were they not brethren? Were they not comrades? He could beg to differ- that theirs was a relationship formed out of desperation and necessity, by some twisted ideal that somehow they deserved to live, that they had earned the right to life- to happiness, to joy- to love. Idly he wondered- what would Ulquiorra have to say about that?

"I just figured I'd drop in and inform you of something that I'm sure will tickle your fancy. Our Grimmjow had a run in with the shinigami today. Apparently things got rather messy. And…well…I figured I'd take it upon myself to seek your guidance. You are the one most apt at handling such things. But- pardon me- you seem rather…distracted. Have you found yourself in a predicament perhaps?"

There was an impossible silence- he dared not glance up from the rim of his cup, stifling his smile of malice and madness. He could hardly belief the depth of his own impertinence at times- and at others it was wholly justified. Was he not madness? He was almost proud of the fact that he stayed true to his namesake.

"Octavia." And the voice was smooth and dark, and cold like the pit. A tremor of fear raced down his spine that was nothing short of exhilarating. And he remembered, yes he did…this was why. The reason. No one else could make him recall vividly, that single trace of humanity, the only one that remained. It was-

"I grow weary of this game."

"Game? I beg your pardon? I am merely concerned for the constitution of my dear, dear brethren- it is rare indeed for anything to capture your attention, I just thought perhaps-"

And then those eyes were upon him, that form was upon him, and he could not escape. He hadn't even seen him move, hadn't seen him- but that was part of the fun, part of the thrill. One never knew, one was never prepared- and yet one could anticipate, one could plan. That was part of the game, the sick game he played, lacking in power, superior only in wit and cunning. This was how he lived.

"Do not play me for a fool. It is a thin line you tread. I know not your motive, nor what you hope to gain, but you will cease such actions. You will refrain from engaging the onna again. If I find out otherwise, you will pay dearly."

He smiled into his cup. "My oh my…how could I forget. Your inferring skills are impeccable. Very well…no point in toying around any longer. Just think of it for a moment…if you will. Why not be gentle to her hmm? Why not…make her your lover? Why not-?"

He paused briefly, thinking of those open, grey eyes, vulnerability etched into the lines of her body, that body that seduced men, and yet that body she carried with that awkward grace of one who had not yet discovered the delectable fruit that was the pleasures of the flesh. He thought of that smile, that foolish idiotic smile of peace and purity, of happiness, of joy at a life lived, and a life lived well. He thought of that, of the difference in years, in experience, in knowledge, in mentality, in understanding and perception of the world. He thought of that night when that girl with the sun kissed skin had been held, limply, in those cold pallid arms. He almost laughed aloud. And he knew that once he started, the laughter would not stop, not until his tongue also lay squirming at his feet, his mouth black with blood.

He'd told that 'other' that this they could permit- the foolish love of one girl, a love that was far beyond the grasp of her feeble hands. For love? Ha! Love was only part of it, love was only a small insignificant part of the whole that made it all worthwhile, love was the vice that led the lamb to the lion's den, love was the means to the inevitable end, a necessary component required for their survival. He had never thought that this alone, this foolish whim he'd possessed, would have ever turned out to be so profitable a risk- and yet- like a fool, this Onna with whom they both played would inevitably be the key.

Sometimes he wondered if perhaps, he'd finally surpassed the reasonable limit of madness- but it was too late now. Far too late. He never made bets, he never made promises on which he could not deliver.

He calmed himself, staring still into the rim of his cup, wondering if his madness had been perceived in the depths of the dark liquid within. He placed the cup down on the table before him, drawing his gaze upward slowly so that he had a full view of Ulquiorra standing before him. His hands were shoved into his pockets, that languid tenseness to his loose shoulders, the perfect straight line of his back. In the crisp white collared shirt, only the inky black hair and emerald eyes leaped out from the sea of white behind him. His face was like a clean slate. If he thought that alone would be enough- he could now see for himself that it would take far more than that to move the stone that was Ulquiorra.

He lowered his voice, nearly purring out the words, slowly and carefully, the electric light glinting off of his wire framed glasses. Carefully, carefully…

"Surely…the idea is not so unpleasant? Is she not beautiful? Is she not innocent? Can you not imagine it? How wonderful she would taste? How pleasurable it would be to watch those dove grey eyes darken with despair? Come now- is it not in your nature? She is just ripe for misery- just ripe for-"

"Nonsense." That face did not waver. But those eyes…were elsewhere, the body, the mouth going through the motions of denial, but those eyes…and mad as he was, he was not one to give up so easily. Pausing for a moment to let the word settle between them, he cautiously tried again.

"…are you not curious? The purity of such a soul is wholly unheard of- surely it would be worthwhile-"

"No." His voice was firm. "Enough of my time has been wasted on your games. There are far more pressing matters than the trifling heart of one onna. There is still the matter of Grimmjow's altercation."

He cursed quietly under his breath. A slight miss step. It would have been wiser and far more productive for his-their- agenda if he had withheld that information until the innate curiosity within him, as well as the thrill of the game, had been resolved. Now wholly aware of the tangent on which he found himself, he placed his hand back around the tea cup, taking a few irritated sips as Ulquiorra's mind began to analyze.

"The altercation could have resolved itself in one of two ways. One- Grimmjow, true to his nature, and riled by some yet indefinable cause- perhaps some manner of taunt or implication- did not turn from the challenge. In which case, he would have revealed himself, and in his folly, believed himself capable of handling the shinigami on his own. Consequently, this would have resulted in either his immediate death or capture, in which case the possibility would present itself that we will be immediately extricated from hiding. Option two would only be plausible if one assumes that Grimmjow has some manner of tact and self preservation not only for himself but for his comrades, and the ability to swallow his pride. In which case, he would have either surrendered, or fled. Option One, while undesired and conflicting with our current objective, is far more probable."

Perturbed at the direction the conversation had turned, he leaned back into the couch, frowning inwardly with displeasure. The new leather crackling beneath his weight- he had probably been the first to use it. For now this was enough- he was uncertain whether progress had been made, and he would never be so presumptuous as to assume that he had even achieved anything. But for the moment, he would let it rest. For now.

"How little faith you have in your comrade. Despite your beliefs, I can attest to the fact that Grimmjow is perhaps not so thick headed and incompetent as you believe. I'll give him the hint of doubt. Considering the fact that we haven't been uprooted yet- and it has been a couple of hours now- I'm willing to bet on Option Two. In such case, why would he have not immediately returned to inform us of what happened?"

"Pride. The very notion that he withheld himself from a battle simply for the sake of others who would be negatively influenced by his actions would not only displease him, but rouse his anger. In a temperamental state, one can assume that at this very moment he is releasing this misplaced aggression in the vilest way imaginable."

He chuckled at the thought, easily imagining Grimmjow storming through town, knocking the hell out of everyone that crossed his path, kicking puppies, eating kittens, pushing kids into rush hour traffic- the idea had merit. His spirit momentarily amused, he returned to reality, taking another sip of his now lukewarm tea.

"Point made. However…couldn't a variety of our problems be resolved if we simply killed the shinigami? This town was built in a high traffic area for hollows, and coupled with the nature of the humans who reside here make them perfect targets not only for feeding, but for becoming hollows themselves. Considering the rapidly increasing number of hollows that regularly frequent this place, the death of one novice shinigami and his powerless benefactor would surely be readily accepted and easily overlooked. Grimmjow or Nnoitra- I myself would surely be more than enough."

There was a slight pause- and he could almost hear Ulquiorra's mind beginning to plan- one, two, three steps ahead- for an answer that would put them in the least amount of danger.

"That would leave a margin of error that would be less than favorable. We have yet to take in account the present level of things within soul society, and whether or not they are currently within a time of turbulence or peace. If the increasing level of hollows is keeping them occupied, such an option would be implemented. However, since we are unaware of the nature of things, there still remains the fact that such a hasty action would only draw the eye of soul society, which we cannot afford. Therefore, the safest alternative is that they must draw the eye themselves, with their own incompetence."

He snorted, tossing his head back and downing the remainder of his cup, relishing the last of it even though he could barely taste it.

"That is beginning to seem more and more unlikely, considering they've been able to somehow hide this from soul society for this long as it is…"

"The arrangement has merely worked itself out thus- Rukia Kuchiki has been able to still receive orders from soul society. Ichigo Kurosaki has been implementing them in her place. From the eyes of Soul Society, as long as the influx hollow levels are kept at a manageable level, all is well. There has yet to be a hollow too powerful for Ichigo Kurosaki to handle. In which case, a third option now presents itself."

He raised an eyebrow skeptically, leaning forward in his seat curiously.

"A third option? What exactly?"

"In which case we use this altercation to turn the tides in our favor."

"Is that so? You've thought this far ahead have you…for how long?"

"From the very moment that I realized the nature of the so called shinigami, the sun had already set in our hands."

He felt the smile creeping across his face- a vile, fanged thing kept for reserve, for things just like this. For plotting, for deceit, for lies and murder. He smiled, hastily covering the horrid thing with his gloved hand. It wasn't beautiful like that girl's smile- his was horrific in its nature, another manifestation of his madness. He stood up slowly, leisurely, bowing fluidly at the waist, grinning malevolently down at the floor.

"Cuatro, I am at your command."


She had not slept that night.

Or at least- she couldn't recall 'sleeping'- a thing done restlessly, filled with tossing and turning, clenched fists that had ripped her thin sheet in two beneath her. It was a thing done with a grinding and gnashing of teeth, that had torn her pillow from the force of her biting- biting done to muffle her screams. A thing that had soaked her pillow, drenched it in bitter tears. No- sleep was a thing better done in peace, filled with carefree dreams of foolish girls and their hopeless wishes.

Those dreams had been filed with cold handed demons, violating her, raping her.

There was no peace, no resolution, and surely nothing as foolish as love.

She contemplated the day, already beginning, the sun peeking from between her blinds. She contemplated the day just as she was, just as she'd fallen onto her bed, stripped down to the traitorous flesh, stripped down and vulnerable, naked. Stripped down to the filthy core of her, because she was a traitor, a whore and a liar.

Because…for all it hurt her, for all it hurt, for all of that she still-

She still-

And she threw her head back, the motion swinging her hair through the rays of morning light, causing them to shine. And she thought of those eyes in that moment, those ancient emeralds at the bottom of some deep murky pit, those emeralds that she had to find, wading through the filth of years, the dredge of life that had coated them black. And she wanted to find them and make them shine. She wanted to find them and-

-And there was no resolution. And she was a traitor, a whore, a liar, the betrayer, the shade, she was- because- and she almost hated herself-

-because there was that part of herself that had loved him, a part of herself that still loved him and-

-because there was a wicked, wicked part of herself that….

….And that was the part of herself she hated. The part of herself she loathed. Why? Why? Humiliating, degrading, those cold hands had dispassionately embraced her in that intimate way- there had been no love, no kindness, nothing but the cold and despair. Was it because it had been him? Did she grant allowances because it was him? Why him? Again, again-!

It was that back, that perfectly straight back. It was that grace. It was those hands. It was that cold, dispassionate gaze.

And he was the only one who had no qualms about breaking her. He was the only one that didn't try to protect her from the rest of the world, he was the only one who didn't try to blind her to its horror, to its reality. He was constantly shoving it in her face, shoving it down her throat, shoving it into her soul. There was no mercy from him, no pity. There was no overly zealous kindness, no constant worry or questioning, no hovering- rather, she was the one who had to get close to him. She was the one who had to show him what kindness meant, what mercy meant, what love meant. For the first time- she felt right teaching someone else, showing someone else. Rather than being the one coddled, pitied, smothered, stifled, instead…was this.

This cold, empty love…and a sad smile flitted across her face when she realized that this pathetic love was one she wouldn't exchange for anything else in the world. It was all hers. When even she, and everything about her, her life, her goals, her desires, her well being began to feel like public property, she would think of this love and smile.

In her perfectly ordered life- popularity, beauty, spontaneity, everything that she was- was not only a given, but a right.

She practically expected everyone to love her, to like her, to like the her that smiled and laughedand shared herself with all equally- and yet the her that she never showed, the loner, the insecure coward- was the one that felt right being owned, being viciously claimed without mercy or love. These two sides of herself were in such conflict- because that outer Orihime was suited for that strawberry, that knight in shining armor- and yet that raw girl inside, with all her faults and flaws only wanted to be devoured.

And where did she stand? Where? Like crossing a field covered in land mines, would her next step be the end of her? How much more could she take? How much more? How much more until she was annihilated completely? When would this end? With this?

And she hated herself…because she didn't want this to end. And the sooner she realized that, the more miserable she knew she could be. Maybe this would only get worse. Maybe next time she wouldn't make it. She had once believed she was strong, once believed that for the first time in a long time, that she was strong enough to do this. But…and she covered her face and turned away from the light. She didn't feel worthy of it anymore.


She went to school.

It was the first time in a long time, that she hadn't worn her customary attire, her simple skirt and collared button down, a staple she'd come to depend on in high school. For the first time, the very first time, she didn't feel like a little girl anymore. She wore a skirt- the shortest she owned, a checkered thing, a blazer and a simple tank. The waves in her hair shone as she maneuvered the halls- and people noticed. Like never before, girls eyed her with blatant envy, no longer stifled but intense and raw now, their faces contorted, their noses upturned. The guys eyed her so viciously she felt as if their gazes could slice her into pieces, for them to divvy up and share amongst themselves. She heard the whispers-the barely suppressed murmurs of shock and awe. It was really such a trivial thing- all she'd done was change her style of dress- but to them, to most of them- that was what had made her. Simple, good natured, loved, adored- it was strange to think how much of her identity had been wrapped up in her attire.

She felt uncomfortable- an uncanny awareness of the breeze ghosting along the backs of her thighs and bare legs and running through the strands of her hair making her think of hands- and thinking of those hands, those hands-

She felt her abdomen tighten and something hot and warm seeped into the very core of her. She couldn't understand it herself- she smiled awkwardly as she maneuvered the halls, waving when appropriate, hesitantly explaining her absence in her wake. Just a cold. Nothing too bad. Sure, she could help her classmate with her project, she was awesome with presentation! Sure, she wouldn't mind showing him how to do that problem later. Sure, she'd find time to hang out with them, it had been awhile right? The promises she'd made, once wholeheartedly because she believed them herself enough, seemed empty and hollow in her throat now. Fake. She didn't feel real. She felt like a doll, a puppet, going through the motions, doing the same old dance, just like-

"Orihime!"

She paused, the name sounding foreign even in her own ears. That name, said so happily, with so much joy, felt as if it belonged to a stranger. She looked over her shoulder warily, unsure- and was nearly bowled over by the small boned girl with inky black hair who ferociously attacked her. Her laughter came easily, naturally- that at least, she could still do relatively well.

"Tatsuki!"

"Where the hell have you been? I've been calling you nonstop since yesterday! You've never been one to just up and miss a day's worth of classes without a moment's notice, no one know where you were, for god's sake Orihime what if you'd been in danger? Do you know how many people you worried? It's already bad enough you live off campus, you can't just up and pull stunts like that! Were you sick? Are you hurt anywhere? Are you feeling better? In fact, you look a little pale and- and…? Wait…what the hell?"

The small girl paused in her verbal assault to stand back, staring Orihime up and down with a wary expression and a crinkle in her brow. Her gaze narrowed, and an almost disgusted look came upon her face. Orihime felt her throat close up suddenly, constricting so tightly that she coughed into her palm, giving her an excuse to look down, and feel the fade happening as she stared at her feet, her hands tightening around her binder. Tatsuki's voice broke the haze, sharp.

"The fuck? Orihime you look like-"

Suddenly desperate, Orihime raised her head and interjected, twirling around hurriedly with an anxious smile, noticing out of the corner of her eye the way a few boys chatting in the hall pause to watch the material skirt around her thighs.

"What do you think Tatsuki? Cute right? And I'm really sorry about yesterday, I just was feeling too distracted to come to school, you know how I get sometimes, and this morning I just thought I'd do something different you know? I always did wear pretty much the same thing so I figured 'Hey! Let's change things up every now and then right? I mean it's not that I-" She stumbled, already caught in the lie. 'It's not like I changed.' She had.

"Orihime." Tatsuki's voice was firm and set. "You look like one of those stuck up cheerleader bitches. And don't give me no bullshit that you're into that stereotype."

Tatsuki sighed, a frustrated and an almost agonized expression on her face as she tore her eyes from the suddenly wounded expression in the depth of Orihime's grey eyes. She cursed, running her hand through her hair, stumbling over the words that had choked in her throat. But then she remembered the way those guys had looked at Orihime when she walked by and she set her mouth in a tight line.

"It's just…this isn't like you Orihime. This…doesn't seem real, not like the Orihime I know. Compared to that girl, this seems so…fake."

And Orihime felt as if a fist had been balled up, and slammed into her stomach, a cruel blow that nearly crippled her. She blinked hastily, suddenly thankful that Tatsuki had her head turned, her eyes wandering elsewhere. Because- silly her- for a moment, her vision blurred. She blinked hastily, quickly tucking her head in an embarrassed manner.

"Yeah…maybe you're right I'm sorry I should have known something like this wouldn't suit me right?…I just…class I….I have to get to class. I'll see you later Tatsuki."

And she ran, so Tatsuki wouldn't see the rapidly budding tears in her eyes.

'It hadn't seemed like her' she'd said. This was' fake', this 'wasn't real'- but how would Tatsuki know? How could Tatsuki say that so easily, when she herself couldn't even begin to tell anymore? That inner and outer Orihime seemed so entwined now, she could no longer begin to tell the difference-so why? Without the struggle, without the slightest hesitation, Tatsuki could lit into her, just like- just like-

-and she thought of green eyes, she thought of emeralds in the dark, and she was torn between the desire to leave, to leave and never return and to go, to go as close as she could, and she didn't know she didn't know, she didn't-

"Arr joo alwight?"

She jumped, hastily scrubbing at the tears in her eyes before anymore could spill over. She turned around with a weary smile, staring into the worried face of Nel. She stood just behind her in a green dress that only seemed to emphasize the thick waves of her hair, of the same unique color. And leaning against the side of the wall was Harribel- her blue eyes striking against the mahogany hue of her skin, and the electric shock of her blond hair. As usual, the bottom portion of her face was hidden by her high collar, and her lean abdomen was exposed by the half shirt she wore that would have easily gotten her expelled had they been still in high school.

With some small degree of shock she realized that she'd run straight into one of the bathrooms on the hall. And then she remembered that Nel was still peering curiously into her face, her eyes wide and inquiring.

"Um yes! I'm fine! I just um- had something in my eye, I just had to get it out you know, I mean it was only a small thing, no biggie, just a-"

As she spoke, Nel's face drew closer to her own, and her words screeched to a halt as Nel's soft hands came to clasp the sides of her face, and stunned she froze as Nel drew her face upwards and blew gently into both of her eyes. Behind them, Harribel shifted silently, her cold blue gaze drawing over to rest on hers. She blinked, hastily, still stunned as Nel smiled with obvious pleasure and dropped her hands, backing away.

"Awl bettur?"

She nodded dumbly, the strangest urge welling in her gut to spill it all right then, to up and tell the older girl everything right then. It was the strangest, most unexplainable feeling- as if she only said everything, told everything- everything would be alright- because she had no reason to worry, she had no reason to worry all she needed was- the truth, she was right for this, she was- she paused, shaking her head from side to side, her mind- a jumbled mess that she had yet to understand.

"Y-Yes thank you I appreciate it I- I'll see you guys later okay?"

She hurriedly left the bathroom, wondering at the muddled state of her mind.


"You're interfering. It is not our right to get involved."

She smiled leisurely, sighing wordlessly with pleasure as she placed her hands against her own face, distraught at the warmth rapidly disappearing from her palms, in light of the returning cold. Experimentally, she clenched and unclenched her small fists, and yet- cold they would remain. After that sun kissed flesh had been beneath them, for one foolish, agonizing moment she had prayed for that warmth to remain. To stay with her, beneath her palms, warming them- and yet she knew the foolishness of prayer, the futility of prayer when you were one such as she- without hope, devoid of the right to claim one's own happiness, not when you robbed others of theirs. It was pointless to even dream, she knew. She knew. And yet…

"…she was so warm." She murmured half-heartedly, unconsciously pleading once more for that peculiar warmth to grace her hands. "Her soul was. For a human…it was…"

"Now…you understand." The words were softly spoken- for once, there was no edge to them. Only a mutual understanding.

She lowered her hands from her face, her gaze drawn slowly around the bathroom, the empty stalls, the glass mirrors on the wall, the clean tiles of the floor. Her eyes met the eyes of the doppelganger in the mirror, the eyes solemn and wise…and weary. So weary. She nodded silently, her mind a subtle murmur now, the only distracting thought now merely that of returning to that jumbled mess of her daily life lived. But it was a small price to pay- and she was strong enough to bear it without complaint. They had all made their sacrifices- and she would be thankful that hers had not been as crippling as some. She turned away from those somber eyes in the mirror, pensive as she met the eyes of her brethren.

"Now I understand…why she's special…the aspects of death ingrained into our very souls, the mark of our sins that warns even the least spiritually observant human away from us- she is immune to it. She did not fall prey to Nnoitra's despair. She did not cower before Grimmjow's destruction. And even my own self-righteousness, the most tame of them all-"

"She was not affected." That other woman interjected smoothly, gracefully lifting her frame from the wall in order to better observe her half. Nel's eyes were dark, contemplative- wearing a fragile smile that was not laced with displeasure as she had expected- but pity.

"So this is Syazel's plan…I see…" the sadness in her voice was tangible. Harribel sighed- she had already resigned herself to this. What became of the girl for the moment, had nothing to do with them. She turned, beckoning to Nel with a tilt of her head.

"…The time is approaching, and we have parts to play."

As the power diminished, rapidly fading back into the core of the hollow shell in which she resided, she sighed, as once more, the veil lowered over her consciousness. And once more those eyes narrowed with that insightful intelligence widened into a glance filled with childlike innocence, a wide grin plastered over her face as she hurried to follow.


She felt terrible. No she didn't. But she should. And that's what was pissing her off. She felt accomplished, proud- once again, without the slightest bit of effort, she'd successfully managed to sway Orihime with but a few words.

She just….she just...she wanted to tell her, to tell that girl with the grey eyes and the inviting smile.

Don't look so cute!

Don't be so stupid!

'When you look so cute people notice, and…when people notice they might…try to take you away. And if they tried to take her away-'

To Tatsuki, the thought was far too horrible to think of, even in her imagination. And she would sacrifice anything- her pride, her dignity, her all- to make sure nothing like that ever happened. It wouldn't happen. Couldn't happen. That bastard she 'supposedly liked…fuck him. Fuck him. It wasn't like he would ever like her back. Orihime could do whatever she wanted if it made her happy, as long as he didn't care as long as he didn't notice- as long as nothing changed.

But she was the one being stupid, she was the being the asshole, the jack ass, the bastard. She was the one- love. This one sided affair that the ginger haired girl she loved the most in the world- she would never know. Could never know. And it was because of that- that rage balled up into a fist and slammed her in the abdomen repeatedly, anxiety knotting in her stomach, making chest pangs rattle her body. This was getting too serious. And If things were like this-

-she grinned to herself, a cold, callous thing, bitter, hiding the pain.

-maybe it was about time she met this guy for herself. And make him suffer in the way only a woman scorned could.


This was going to be another long fucking day.

He'd known in part because he woke up pissed like he hadn't been in fucking ages. Just thinking about the previous day, when he'd rolled over, ran away from the fight he'd been looking forward to since he'd came to this damn place- like some little bitch- he cursed aloud. He didn't know what the fuck this had to do with anything, but- hell it gave him something to do at least- he was hardly smart enough to see these things through, so he didn't question orders. Especially not when that green eyed bastard was the one giving them.

Cursing anew under his breath, he lifted the hollow from his back, throwing it viciously into the growing pile. That should've been the last of them. They were all hideous, deformed monstrosities, their masks and forms varying according to the nature of the hollow and the degree of the sin. Some of them thrice his size- othersmerely overgrown rats. He frowned in distaste looking at them, with the abnormal number of limbs and appendages that they possessed – and the masks- he scoffed aloud. He almost couldn't believe that he used to look like that. The thought displeased him more than he cared to admit and he hurried to spit to physically release the distracting thought, the notion itself helped to comfort him- he, who was rarely comforted. Spitting, a habit he had only developed recently, seemed to be the only way he was able to deal with these kinds of things. He'd done his part for now. They could handle the fucking rest.

He turned as Nnoitra entered the clearing, and he nearly smothered his smile- until he remembered Nnoitra couldn't do shit about it, so he grinned away.

"What do you know? Can you talk yet?"

Nnoitra frowned at him- and at the very least his arm was back, to the point where he gave his blue eyed brethren the middle finger as maliciously as could be allowed. He lifted the hollow from his own back, and he too threw it onto the pile with a slight grunt of effort, his eyes grazing with appreciation over the mass of hollows they had managed to collect. He grinned with a pleasure that was practically inhuman, which he didn't mind considering he was as far removed from human as one could be.

"I'll take that as a no. Ah well…there's at least thirty of these bitches in here, so that should be more than enough. We'll see soon enough though won't we?"

His eyes drifted upwards, the blue of the sky nearly blinding him. The mixture of sun and sky made his eyes wince- he had never been one to appreciate things of unparalleled beauty, beauty he could neither condemn nor hate. They all had their peculiarities, that marked them- living with the physical proof of their sins wasn't enough, living hunted wasn't enough- to never be at peace, to never be content- to always hate or rage, or lust or destroy- it wasn't that he felt he deserved such a small happiness as being able to appreciate a sunny day like those other stupid people he dealt with at that hell hole. Hardly- just the thought alone disturbed him. Something so small and insignificant- hell, he'd probably find some way to ruin that too.

With a bitter taste in his mouth he snapped his gaze away from the sky, and spit as soon as he had drawn the breath. It was with a mutter and a curse that he realized this time, that the feeling wouldn't leave him so easily. And it was all so fucking stupid, that stupid feeling, because there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Never had been, never would be. And it was all so stupid and pointless and meaningless, all of this shit- to survive and live- for what? For whom? For what reason did he even do any of this? Hell, everyone would be better off they were dead, and what kind of life was this anyway?

The same shit, different day- and he was pissed before he knew it, pissed because he'd thought of that fucking sky overhead that he couldn't even appreciate, and it brought to mind some stupid bitch who'd been too dumb to run away- and he was cursing before he knew it, and Nnoitra was staring at him wordlessly, looking at him as if he were the one going mad, as if he were the one with fucking problems.

"Don't you fucking look at me like that Nnoitra! I'll take more than your fucking tongue!"And it was stupid cause he wasn't even pissed at Nnoitra, he wasn't even pissed at that tongue less rapist bastard, he was pissed at everything and everyone, suddenly overwhelmed with a violence so senseless, so uncontrollable, so devastating that it was taking everything in his power not to annihilate, not to destroy, not to induce chaos and mayhem. It was taking everything within him to not ruin every single fucking one of them, to finally end this, fuck the consequences he'd rather die fighting than suffer in this silence- underhandedly, like some fucking coward.

He spit with such vehemence that Nnoitra wisely backed away, and he didn't imagine the sweat he saw trailing leisurely down between those narrowed eyes- and it made him laugh wildly at the thought of it- and just like that, just like that he was himself again.

"I'm just fucking around with you Nnoitra, you know I like to watch you shit your pants."-and he hadn't been fucking around. For one moment, he could have balled his hand into a fist and-"We've done our part, can't let that bastard just think we're all buddy buddy just cause of this- let's get the hell out of here, they got the rest of this shit."

And he didn't dare look at the sky again-he was an idiot about a lot of things, but the depths of his madness wasn't one of them. He knew he was going to flip the fucking rocker one of these days- hell they all knew- but today wasn't it. Grinning impishly as he stuffed his hands into his pockets- he almost regretted it.


From up here he mused- this city did not seem quite as imposing, as filthy or detestable. He supposed from the height at which he stood- a good few stories up- all cities looked like this. Sprawling out before him like a map- the buildings shrunken in size, the people insignificant little specks-this was how it should be. He would have liked a giant magnifying glass- it would have been amusing to concentrate the beams of that sun far above onto those scurrying specks below- watching them shrivel and burn. It would be quite an amusing past time- surely one worth investing it, with as much time as he possessed behind him and before him.

His eyes watched from above from behind golden frames, wordlessly noting the projected point of entry above, calculating the time required, the degree of effort involved- and silently his eyes strayed to the form of his companion, a blur against the skyline.

'As impassive as ever'- he noted, those emerald eyes as well were trained above- and he didn't even need to be a maniacal genius to understand what was going on behind that emotionless gaze. He shook his arm loose, casually rolling back the sleeve of his lab coat in order to check the time- ah yes- by now, Grimmjow and Nnoitra would have completed their task, and classes would be ending, so Nel and Harribel could complete things on their end. And idly he noted that in another half hour's time his break would be over and he would be expected to return to work. But it was with a small smile of satisfaction that he noted that things would be long since over by then.

"Ulquiorra, it's time." He wondered at the cheerful edge to his voice- strange only because this was hardly the time to be cheerful- surely this was a time to be pensive, anxious- if this were not done properly, there was every possibility that this plan could just as easily turn against them. However that idea was nothing short of laughable.

Ulquiorra did not move- his gaze completely transfixed and focused on some point beyond the reach of human sight, some point in a time beyond time- a point that only he could see.

He adjusted his glasses on his face almost eagerly, noting idly that his hand trembled. And why not? It had been such a long time- a very long time. If he were correct- as he often was- not since the time of Crossover had they attempted such. After all, such things were easily noted, and just as easily tracked. However considering the act they were about to attempt, that would be highly unlikely. And he drew his gaze downwards, to the bait, and upwards- to the point- the point in the sky- and he saw it. He blinked at the noticeable bulge, at the noticeable ripple in the fabric of reality. And he grinned like mad, like a little boy on Christmas, like a maniac who hardly contain the thrill of slaughter.

And Ulquiorra had seen it too, perhaps long before- because he had been expecting it, waiting for it. And slowly, as if from underwater he freed one slender hand from his pocket, raised one lithe arm- and Syazel could hear his breathe coming in and out like mad, as if he even needed to breathe, as if- and those slender fingers snapped. And it all happened at once- the wind came hurtling at him, carrying a welcoming scent of sand and death, a familiar scent, of home. And the wind blew into his eyes, sulfur and brimstone burning his nostrils, and he snatched off his glasses to see with unrestrained eyes, as the sky folded from here to there outward, unfolding, opening wider and wider for-

-and he saw the first mammoth hand, clawed and white slowly reach out of that black rift in the sky, blacker than the space between the stars- and the second followed, grasping that opening, ripping it wider. And he saw- laughing before he knew he was laughing- as that pointed snout reached outward, as the soulless mask of the behemoth followed, the eyes red with hellfire, the jaws tapered shut, the head of a body made of night. And the sight of that monster of monsters, rifting through a hole in the fabric of reality, crossing over from that hell to this haven was so beautiful that he felt tears in his eyes.

Giddy with glee and madness he ran to the edge of the building, and he gladly would have thrown himself down, dashing his pathetic shell against the ground, if he could have become a part of that magnificence. And as if in a dream he spoke aloud, seeing nothing but that glorious sight, of that beast breaking through the sky.

"Ah Ulquiorra can't you see how beautiful it is? How wondrous it is? The size of it! The power! It's perfect, absolutely perfect- a Menos Grande."

Excitement pulsed through his blood, thrilling him, giving him a subtle taste of that life once lived in such vast amounts that it nearly overcame him. He could remember it all, all of it-! The white palace, the impenetrable fortress, their supreme lord, their boundless gifts. The war, the battle, the blood, the victory- that should have been theirs, that should have belonged to them, and yet- and yet-and yet!- and then madness seized him so suddenly he couldn't breathe, seized him so suddenly he felt his throat cave and his chest heave. And just as suddenly, the feeling that had momentarily left him crippled- faded. He straightened himself, a quivering hand pushing back the sweaty bangs that had stuck to his forehead.

Ignorant fool that he was! How close he'd come! They had to be careful, they couldn't afford too much of this- this was the human world- and to fall prey to those sins that had been ingrained into the very fabrics of their souls could prove disastrous. Rattled at the thought of how close he'd almost come to being released from this hollow shell due to him being unable to restrain himself, was one that made him shudder. Such hollow like inclinations were not suited for this mortal plane- should he ever get too caught up in his own madness- if any of them for a moment forgot themselves- it could be the end of them all.

He hurried to compose himself- and then remembered. Had he as well-? With a twinge of something that was hardly pity, he turned his gaze to that man, still standing still- and his emerald gaze had turned away from the sight of that monster they had summoned, his back to Syazel. And it was a strange, strange feeling- knowing that he was almost afraid to ask.

"Ulquiorra? Are you-?"

And there was the customary silence- but in that was-

-And his eyes trailed down that lithe form, and it was with a sick, sick horror that he realized that one of those pale hands hanging limply by his side was no longer human. Black as night, the pale fingers replaced with long, viciously clawed talons. Syazel felt the breath clog his throat.

Ulquiorra raised the hand before his face for a moment in silent reflection, surveying the change.

"Hmph. I see. The summoning required the use of more reiatsu than I had originally calculated. Very well. Octavia- you will oversee things from here."

And that head turned ever so slightly, so that those eyes could see him, could make sure he understood. And he held back the terror when he realized that the once normally emerald eyes that could cut through to the core of him, had mellowed into a fading amber. He was reverting.

A part of him had seen this coming. A selfish part of him had wanted to blame that green eyed man- surely they had all seen this coming- how could they have not predicted it? He alone refused to feed on mortal souls- he alone satisfied himself with only hollow ones, and to sate them for any brief period of time, the odds of finding one powerful enough to sate him were few and far in between. The rest of them made do with quantity over quality- but he alone just- Syazel gritted his teeth, nearly severing his tongue.

Damn him and his pride! Damn him, damn him, damn him!

If he would only feed as they did-! And yet he still held to those ancient principles! But he smothered the cry of outrage, muffled it beneath his breath. It was fine. It was fine. It was fine. Things would soon workout in his favor. It had taken time, much time- but no matter. For all his power, at times like this their current head could become a liability they couldn't afford to lose. But no matter- it wouldn't be long now. It hadn't taken as much effort on his part- and yet still things would work out well. That girl…would soon see to that. Thanks to that purity, thanks to that innocence- she would be the reassurance he needed- that they could yet live.

He supposed, if nothing else, he should be somewhat thankful. It wouldn't be long now. The call- it made a shiver run down his spine just thinking of it. He had never heard Ulquiorra's for himself- he couldn't have honestly, not when he was so adamant at refusing to feed from those beings he labeled as filth. And he nearly smothered the sadistic smirk on his lips, as he nodded his compliance.

What was the life of one girl- however pure- compared to the damned lives of ten?

Living was a process fraught with cruelty- surely she would understand that. Tonight, he mused, he would get a drink. Zonmari wouldn't have to wait much longer. And- he smiled- there was yet another matter...


-"In love with him you say? How foolish these mortals have grown! What manner of woman would dare to love a monster?"

"Times have changed since you have last seen the outside world you know, it's not as uncommon as you would believe. These human women are easy prey for monsters clothed in the flesh of men, and mortal ones as well."

"Hmph. You may be mad, but you were never a romantic. Surely there is more to this affair than you are telling me."

"My, my…who says you only get more forgetful and fumbling with old age? Centuries aside, you are as sharp as ever…well…I have no fear that you will reveal anything I disclose to you, especially given your…predicament. Shame. Perhaps you would have enjoyed it, this world…"

"How naïve. I have walked this earth twice over, I have ruled as a mortal, I have died a hero, I was reborn a monster, I ruled as a king, and I was conquered like a weakling. This is my fate boy. Surely you are not one so foolish as to think a more promising fate awaits the rest of you? Ha! Surely this is what you fear the most? You and all the others- fear of the curse creeping upon you, devouring you. The destruction, the arrogance, the despair, the sacrifice, the madness…since I have been indisposed it seems that you have grown pathetic."

"…you…weren't nearly this talkative a moment ago. And you would do well to mind your words sometimes you old fool, lest I abandon you to your fate like all the others. We can hardly be bothered with a dusty skeleton barely holding onto his putrid soul. You can't even defend yourself, therefore it would be wise to hold your tongue before I decide to put you out of your misery. "

"I've lived thrice the age of the lot of you. How dare you think I have fallen so low as to fear death? If it were not for you and your confounded silence, I would be rotting away in the abyss, preferable to living in hiding, with only the company of a coward."

"And it was that very arrogance…that has led you to this."

"…Speak, lest I rot even further with all of this idle banter."

"…very well I shall comply with you for now…you know that the Primera has lost his mind to his loneliness. He too…squanders away this life that we have found….rotting. Just like you. He only differs in that prior to our establishing ourselves in this place, he took it upon himself to leave us."

"Hmph. Loneliness is hardly a sin worth suffering for. He always was weak…I figured it wouldn't be long after the death of his half that the curse would be upon him and drive him mad. I'm sure the fool is living among the weak like he always desired…killing them in the process."

"I believe he has taken up the life of a wanderer. I know not where he has gone. And the power originally belonging to the Tres, Harribel, prior to the crossover has somehow been equally divided between her and Nel once we made the decision to take her with us. Her being the former Tres, their souls battled for the right to keep that power as we were passing through the gate- resulting in this present situation. That said, neither one of them is presently equipped to lead. "

"And…?"

"I'm saying that presently, the only one in possession of enough power, will and intellect to keep us alive- is the Cuatro, Ulquiorra. Despite the limitations placed upon us in these human shells, he has managed to retain much of his power. I'm saying that he alone is our last line of defense, the only one in control of enough power to forego any threats souls society could place upon us. I'm saying that without him, we are as good as dead. And if there is nothing else that you can respect, it is power."

"Very well. Now…what does this really have to do with the girl?"

"…since the time of cross over, since the time of our arrival in the mortal world…Ulquiorra has refused to feed from mortal souls."

"What manner of fool would do such a foolish thing? Does he not know? In order for a hollow to survive and maintain the power to materialize in the mortal realm, they must consume the souls of humans- that is the rule, that is what we must do to survive, to forego such a thing is suicide!"

"I know as well as you, calm yourself and follow me on this- Ulquiorra hates mortals to the point where he would willingly forego sustenance, his very survival- for the sake of holding to this premise. I fear that since we entered this world- his curse had already set upon him. His hate is to the point that he cannot even feed. An admirable if foolish effort- I'm sure of us all he knows what could happen if he foregoes proper feeding much longer- his soul will dematerialize from the mortal realm- and with the current state of things, only the shinigami know where it could end up."

"I have never heard of such idiocracy!"

"-and, as I have said, without his guidance, it wouldn't be long before we too would perish. And because Ulquiorra refuses to acknowledge anything outside of himself, for all his claims that he would see to our well being until the return of the master, he honestly could care less if we died today. Now you see the present state of things. Ulquiorra is weary- to perish in the line of duty, holding true to his vow till the end- is more than enough for him. He has done this time and time again, he has suffered with this hate, he has dealt with the more blacker of sins- and he as been incapable of taking an interest in anything aside from his duty to our lord. He wants to die. Whether he acknowledges it or not…he longs for the peace that death provides."

"A Hollow trying to die….well….it would not be the first time…"

"Believe me when I tell you- hollow's can have religion now. Surely anything is possible these days. Now perhaps you can see why this girl is so vital- in the entirety of his existence, love is a concept which has forsaken him. Love is an abstract ideal, a concept so foreign and profound that he could not begin to understand it, analyze it, or interpret it. He has never been one to cast away things that were of interest to him- and this onna is the greatest mystery he has ever had to solve. What is love? Why will she not forsake it? Why would she pursue it? No matter how much he pushes her away, why will she not abandon it? There is nothing to gain, there is nothing from which she can benefit- so what are her motives? And therein lies-"

"-The Heart. All that is needed to live."

"And if he will not live for us, he will live for that. To find the answers to those questions which he himself cannot grasp. And as long as she loves him, as long as her foolish heart yearns for him, she will be all that we need to ensure he keeps himself alive. And I couldn't have planned the rest any better- the summoning has roused his spiritual pressure to the forefront, and if he does not feed soon the hunger will drive him to madness. The call is being made- and she will answer it. And when she does…"

"When she does…?"

"Come now Barragan….surely I wouldn't want to spoil things for you so soon…but let's just say that a new addition to the family will soon be upon us."


A call.

It was the strangest feeling- she couldn't put a title to it, she couldn't name it or define it. To be perfectly honest, she didn't know when it came over her, what came over her. She couldn't explain it, she couldn't deny it, she couldn't redeem herself from it.

It wasn't even a sound- it wasn't a sound- it was-unrest in her spirit, a divide in her soul, and it unmade her, it broke her.

It was: night descending, closing on her, pitch black darkness that seized her in an icy grip before she could even scream, before she could even think against it- it had entrapped her, enslaved her. Dove grey orbs lost their sparkled as they faded to slate, her satchel falling from her suddenly limp hands. She never heard it hit the ground.

She missed it- she missed it in her stupor, missed it in her haze. The frantic look of panic on Rukia's face as she darted from the lab when she slowly drifted by. She missed it, the tense look etched into the lines of Ichigo's grim frown as he dashed past her, narrowly avoiding colliding with her. She missed it, Uryuu sprinting and gasping for breath as he darted from the library, her gaze empty as she stared blindly into the empty courtyard, watching Sado run off the track into the distance. She missed it.

She never made it to class.

Without the urgency, without the panic, devoid of fear, only the calm. She walked away from it all- the same as them- not sprinting but without looking back. She couldn't have known then, couldn't have foreseen then, the divergence of faith between the directions in which they ran.

There was not a single thought in her head, a single trace of free will. There was only need. He needed her. He needed her now. And that was all that mattered. Pulled, by that urgent need that she didn't have the power to deny, she went.

It wouldn't be long now.


AN: Woah. Long time no see. But never fear my lovelies, I've written the next two chapters in advance so all is well! Life's been a bitch but never fear! Also, I haven't been able to reach my beta reader, so please excuse the crappy editing, hopefully I'm getting better.

That said, I'm having waaaay to much fun giving them problems. I just kind of figured hollows couldn't exactly live in the human world all willy nilly and not suffer for it, so I thought it'd be more interesting to make the 'sins of death' that the arrancar supposedly represent actually translate into real, pressing problems in the human world. And I like the notion of Syazel being this evil mastermind because you know he should've been one lol. Let me know what you think, because next chapter hime's going back into the lion's den! What's going to happen now? DUN DUN DUN. And a cookie to whom ever can figure out who Syazel's companion is in these side conversations.

Will next chapter be the long awaited Ulquiorra centric one? Or am I speaking merely lies and slander? And poor orihime just can't get a break...shame shame...

Thanks so much for all of the reviews, I'm keeping all of you in mind and I hope to see you guys next time!