P . A . T . H . W . A . Y

III

A Fine Line

Ulquiorra stared listlessly down the vacant hallway, feeling that he should be pleased that the plan had worked so well under his guidance. And yet something about yesterday's events had troubled him. Perhaps it was that the human girl—Orihime—had rattled him. He frowned. It was a feat not easily accomplished, and he had been surprised that he had reacted in such a way. She possessed, perhaps, more intelligence than he would have liked to imagine in a human. Instead of obeying completely out of fear when he had threatened her comrades, she had twisted the situation so that she was in control. He ought to have countered with a word, a second warning. He ought to have threatened her instead—but the thought, oddly enough, repulsed him.

Why?

She was a prisoner, and ought to have done as she was told. In fact, instead of imprisoning her immediately as he should have done when he had captured her, he had allowed her a brief goodbye. Ulquiorra's frown deepened. Had that been merely to gain her complete cooperation...?

The incident with the food had proven otherwise. She had realized that he served another, and that if the leverage to control her were done away with, there would be no reason for her to obey. Aizen-sama would not be angry with her, but with him for making things that much more difficult.

Perhaps to give the appearance that we are trying to be compassionate…

So that she would cooperate more easily? Ulquiorra shook his head rapidly, as if ridding himself of some distasteful odor. The excuse sounded feeble even in his head. She would cooperate easily enough when threatened with the loss of her counterparts, and Ulquiorra was not foolish enough to allow her to escape. She was quite trapped here.

So why?

And here he was again, checking up on her. He brought with him an apple, which she seemed to enjoy the most, and a plate of strange pastries he did not know the name of. Yammy seemed to enjoy them, despite the fact that Arrancar had no need of human food—Ulquiorra detested it himself. He also carried a glass of water, which he had only tried once. It had tasted like cold metal.

The Espada slid easily into the room, the tails of his surcoat trailing airily behind him. Today it was loosened at the top, exposing the hole just below his neck, as well as the barest edge of the number four tattooed into his waxen skin. Its high collar of it kept catching on the bottom of his helmet-like mask.

Today, the human girl seemed politely startled at his appearance. She still wore her clothes from the day before, although her hair was slightly damp. The ends of it tapered and clung to her delicate face and her bright blue eyes stared up at him inquisitively. She wore a slight smile, which seemed strange to him after the events of the day before. She should be unhappy to see him - he was the one who had taken her captive.

"Good morning," she greeted him. "Breakfast, right?"

He nodded, edging closer. The apple, drink, and the plate of pastries he deposited on the small table.

"I trust I will not have to resort to such measures again," he said unaffectedly, gesturing towards the food. A warm color filled her cheeks, and she laughed hesitantly: an honest laugh, neither too harsh, nor too wild. There was a faint ring in it that resonated playfully in his ears. Ulquiorra observed her interestedly. The sunlight emanating from the window made the room almost warm and welcoming.

"No, I'm actually really hungry today."

She offered a small smile before taking a pastry from the plate. "Mmmm… I love cookies!" He watched as she nibbled the edge of one, grinning.

"Where did you get these?"

Ulquiorra blinked, as surprised as he was baffled by her cheerfulness. He had spent a few minutes this morning attempting to pick out something she might think was suitable, and after watching Yammy gorge himself on this food—cookies—decided that they must be reasonably good. But her high spirits seemed more from something else, rather than the small pastries she kept popping into her mouth.

"The Soul Reapers keep food storage not far from here," he replied shortly. He watched as some stray crumbs fell from her cheeks, barely missing the lank tendrils of hair about her countenance. She must have spent the morning looking around his area of Las Noches - there was a faint smell of soap in the air. "I see you have explored thoroughly."

"Yes," she said, nodding. "Your bathroom is very nice."

"Hnh."

"Thank you for bringing my food again this morning."

This he did not reply to, although her words made him slightly uncomfortable. Didn't he have better things to do than cater to an imprisoned human girl?

She finished her breakfast, a troubled look crawling over her features. Ulquiorra tilted his head curiously, wondering what had warranted this change in expression. Humans were strange, but this girl was nearly unpredictable.

Nearly.

"You are wondering about your friends," he hazarded a guess, not knowing exactly why he bothered to say anything at all.

"One more than the others," she replied, sighing. "I miss him, and I know he will worry about me when he wakes up. I just hope he doesn't do anything that will get him hurt even more…" Her voice trailed off.

"The Soul Reaper with the black bankai," he remarked, recalling the scene with Grimmjow. The band of Soul Reapers had come in just enough time to chase the two of them away—Yoruichi Shihoin and Kisuke Urahara were not opponents he was keen on fighting all at once. Ulquiorra had stalled, although not purposefully, just long enough for them to show up. He had kept the orange-haired man alive that day—saved his life, in a manner of speaking. Grimmjow would have destroyed him had he not intervened, but the girl had no knowledge of this—she'd only seen him after the fact.

She nodded, unaware of his thoughts, and there was a long silence between them for a while.

"I was wondering if I could see how he's doing." Ulquiorra tensed automatically at this. Something within him stirred, although he couldn't place what it was. But the answer came to his lips without hesitation.

"I cannot allow that," he said glacially, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, she was staring up at him, looking stricken. Ulquiorra flinched as a rush of something heavy surged through him, pulling at his insides. His chest ached, though he had taken no physical injury. However, the dull ache faded as he looked away from her. The feeling was frightfully new, although he dared not show his agitation.

"W-why not?" she asked, her voice quavering again, try as she might to keep it steady. The cheerfulness that had filled the room moments before evaporated, and the sunlight seemed starker than before. It was decidedly hot and stuffy.

"I'm worried about him."

His eyes narrowed angrily. Had all her cheer merely been a ruse to get him to let her out again?

"I am not a gatekeeper, woman." Ulquiorra put careful emphasis on the last word, waited expectantly for her to say something back, to tell him to call her by name. But she only stared listlessly at the wall. The Arrancar stiffened. Her silence was irritating.

Say something.

The deadened look in her eyes did not change, and the difference between them moments ago and now was the difference between night and day. The transit made him angrier still, though not at her.

At who, then?

Myriad emotions roiled within him, things he had never before understood, but now crept from the depths of his heart unbidden and…

Unwanted.

Ulquiorra left, and in his mind he told himself that he would not come again. His job was done—he had brought her to Hueco Mundo. Let someone else take care of her from now on.

Three days came and went more quickly than she had expected or wanted. As her meeting with Aizen drew near, she found herself becoming more and more nervous. She hadn't seen any sign of her ghostly captor, but would have been almost glad for his company. A lesser Arrancar that did not speak to her had brought her meals for the past two days. The constant quiet was beginning to draw on her.

That morning, she decided that she would not show the full extent of her power. If she appeared as if she were weaker, perhaps Aizen wouldn't find a use for her, and be forced to release her. The question was, would he realize if she were holding back?

Probably, she sighed.

She heard familiar padding footsteps outside her door. Her heart leaped unexpectedly, but her mind was full of confusion. In an instant she knew who it was—the Arrancar servant had a shuffling step that sounded like something was being dragged across the floor whenever she heard it. The fourth's gait was swift and sure, that of a wolf stalking prey in the darkness. Still, she said nothing to him as he approached her, putting on a cold expression that she hoped would chase him away again, and turning away for good measure. He glided towards her, unnoticing, resting behind her. Orihime felt a light hand on her shoulder, and she heard his breath come and go in soft quickened gusts near her ear. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

"Do not feign incompetence," the soft voice breathed. "He will kill you if you do not show your full strength." The hand squeezed tightly on her shoulder, making her wince.

"But he needs my abilities," she whispered, more to herself than the one standing behind her. "Why would he—?" She felt him hold his breath, heard him draw it fast between his lips. Everything he did was so quiet, but so close, she could sense everything about him. She shifted uncomfortably; he seemed agitated by something.

Orihime swallowed, remembering her previous encounters with him—how cold-blooded he had appeared. Now she was wondering if there were, in fact, two Ulquiorras.

Why is he here telling me all of this?

"It will take a great deal of power to do what he expects of you," explained Ulquiorra. "You have that power—but if he senses that you do not, or that you are holding back…"

"What does that matter to you?" Again the question came without restraint. This Ulquiorra was acting really oddly, Orihime thought.

She turned towards him smoothly feigning nonchalance, blue eyes aloof and calculating. As she looked there, she felt the weight of his hand fall from her shoulder. There was something written in his icy countenance, something she could not identify easily, but that was there nonetheless. She watched him carefully, wonderingly. He could not express it in words, but his silence spoke volumes.

Is he—actually—worried about me…?

"I am simply warning you," he returned. The eyes closed briefly, the shift fading, though not without effort on his part. As though he were telling himself that his own words were true. "Aizen-sama's goals are my own as well. To lose you would make things… difficult." He seemed to wait there for her to say more, but she did not. What could she say? Surety was a luxury not easily afforded here.

"I promise to do my best," she said, and meant it. Orihime was never one to break a promise to anyone—even an enemy—if that was even what he was. He had taken her from her home, certainly, but so far had acted on none of his threats.

Would he?

She turned away from him, watching the fading twilight from her tiny window. The stars were only barely visible in the dwindling sunlight, but the moon was radiant and white, as it had been many a night previous. Today it was waning. Would she stay here so long that it vanished altogether before her eyes?

When she looked for him again, he had gone. The disappearance was so sudden that Orihime wondered if she had only been imagining things.

Minutes later, she heard more people in the hallway—heavy footfalls, quick shuffling steps—there seemed to be a parade of many Hollows headed in her direction. For the first time in days, she stretched her senses. So many different reiatsu, she could not distinguish one from another. There were many of them, each varying in intensity; but none were familiar to her, except…

Ulquiorra was the first inside. The remote look of anxiety was gone, replaced by an indifferent expression that suited her perception of him more closely. The more she studied him, the more she became convinced that his previous visit had been all in her mind. What an overactive imagination she had, then.

"Come, woman," he commanded. "It is time to see if your abilities can be put to good use."

He was the same frosty Arrancar she had seen the day Urahara-san and Yoruichi had saved both herself and Chad as well as Ichigo. The one who had called her 'inconsequential' and allowed the big Espada to attack her, hurt her. The redhead swallowed hard, the danger she was in suddenly real.

Why wouldn't it be real?

She glanced at the open door, sensed vast energy levels directly over the threshold, felt the color drain from her face. If her power wasn't what Sosuke Aizen was looking for…

Orihime walked slowly outside at his insistence, a host of strange Hollows and Soul Reapers alike there to greet her. Some Hollows still had masks on, while others showed their countenances only part of the way. None of the Hollows' spiritual pressure resonated nearly as sharply as Ulquiorra's, she realized. The large Arrancar from a month ago would have more power than most of them. But there were still so many. She found some faces only vaguely familiar—in the background, a silver-haired shinigami grinned at her from the shadows. She felt rather than saw Ulquiorra take a place directly behind her as they walked. Some of her escorts peeled off from the group, seemingly only curious of the human their master had taken interest in. Soon, only three remained—the grinning fox, a tall dark-skinned shinigami, and Ulquiorra.

"I don't think Cap'n Aizen asked ya to come, Green Tears," the fox-faced Soul Reaper jeered. Orihime glanced at him uncomfortably. His narrowed eyes were trained on Ulquiorra, but as she looked, she could have sworn she saw a flash of red in her direction. She looked away quickly, but continued to listen intently. The shinigami's name—what was it again?

Gin Ichimaru.

Then that meant the other, less talkative Soul Reaper was Kaname Tosen.

She walked among traitors.

"Aizen-sama's orders were to care for her until he had the chance to see her for himself," the Espada replied smoothly.

"Just followin' orders are ya?" Gin sneered, the sarcasm palpable in his playful tone. "What'sa matter? Don't trust us enough to take her there safe 'n sound?" She sensed him fall behind, closer to Ulquiorra now. Orihime grabbed at the top of her skirt, mentally telling herself not to turn around. There was an immediate aura around Ichimaru that Orihime did not trust.

Don't be stupid. Ulquiorra can take care of himself. And why do you care anyway?

There was a long drawn-out pause, in which Ichimaru realized that Ulquiorra was not going to rise to his bait.

"Ah, yer no fun," the silver fox said disappointedly. "Even when ya were a lil Menos, ya weren't no fun—prob'ly the worst o' any of 'em 'sides Grimmy. Took us a really long while to capture 'im, didn' it Tosen? Funny how y'all aren't even the most powerful. Heck, Uno was the easiest to catch—all 'e did was sit there n' sleep."

Ichimaru snickered.

"But ya prob'ly don' even remember any o' that, do ya, Green Tears?"

That's right, Orihime remembered from Captain Hitsugaya's conversation. The Arrancar once weren't as powerful as they were now. Aizen had done something to them, given them the ability to wield zanpakouto; something only Soul Reapers were only able to do at one point. He wasn't always a Vasto Lorde. What kind of Menos Grande was he, then, before he was turned?

Orihime proceeded to imagine all manners of Hollow-beasts, taking from her own experience as much as she did from imagination. His mask—had horns and armor plates. The way his eyes gleamed in the dark, slit-pupiled. Maybe a snake? He was very cold, but snakes reminded her more of someone like Ichimaru rather than Ulquiorra. A lizard-beast? Perhaps… but somehow a constantly flicking tongue and Ulquiorra just—didn't—match up.

A dragon! Orihime had to suppress a snort of laughter.

What was wrong with her? Didn't she realize where she was headed?

The double doors to the throne room were larger than the rest, and once Orihime drew near, she could sense the reiatsu of Sosuke Aizen—it was enormous, so vast that its presence was nearly suffocating, even though she knew he dampened it for the sake of those around him. Her eyes widened. Icy droplets of fear fell through her stomach. How had he gotten so strong? He was even stronger now than he had been before... how had he gathered so much power in such a short period of time?

He sat despondently on the large white throne, his eyes piercing, as even Ulquiorra's hadn't been. While she felt like a specimen under a microscope whenever the Espada looked at her, here she felt as if Aizen had seen the entirety of her very soul. Still, he was a traitor, not some kind of god—and Orihime refused to bow to him.

"Ulquiorra," he said first, keeping his eyes on her. The voice was deep and kind, but there was something beneath it that spoke of murderous intent. She felt frozen where she stood, unable to move. To be around the shinigami was draining enough as it was. "Well done." The man in the chair straightened, leaned forward so as to better observe. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ulquiorra stir. She had half-expected him to leave, but instead, the fourth Espada made his way to the side of the area, clearly able to see everything within the room, but still out of the way, so that he wouldn't be easily noticed as events transpired. If Aizen himself traced the movement, he did not comment on it.

Both Ichimaru and Tosen stood on either side of the throne—like celestial guardians for their master. On the opposite side of Ulquiorra stood a tall, thin Arrancar with violet eyes, and very feminine in appearance. His sleek, dark hair lay plastered against his battered face, and he was slightly bent over in pain. The fragments of his mask were chipped, and Orihime could see the number 6 tattooed on his partially exposed stomach. Despite the fact that he was a Hollow, she felt an ounce of pity for the poor man - wondered who had wounded him so badly. Would she be asked to heal him?

Beside the violet-eyed Hollow, but farther away, stood an Arrancar with a single arm. His figure was entirely different from the Arrancar with dark hair—where he hunched beaten and bloodied, the one-armed Hollow stood tall and arrogant. His eyes were a brilliant cyan, and the long fingers of his right hand combed lazily through a shock of cerulean hair. He noticed her looking over at him and smirked evilly, his white teeth pearly and his canines oddly sharp. His mask obscured the lower right half of his face, in a long trailing piece of jawbone that accentuated his gleaming teeth.

"Grimmjow Jeagerjaques," the shinigami called quietly, seemingly kind. The blue-haired Hollow strode forward obediently, his steps wide and indolent. Grimmjow acted like a tamed lion before its master, darting glances to Aizen, as well as any other living being in the room. She felt a strong sense of uneasiness looking at him - where Ulquiorra had been unpredictable to her, this Arrancar seemed far more likely to be prone to violence. Orihime looked closely at his missing arm, suddenly fully aware of what she was going to be asked to do.

As if he had read her thoughts, Aizen leaned forward, and all eyes rested on him once more.

"Orihime," he said gently enough, but his eyes were arctic and sharp. "Would you please heal his arm? I should very much like to see your abilities firsthand." Her distrust of him was automatic, but she imagined that had she not known him for what he was, she surely would have found him enchanting. She imagined that he had been a very believable fraud during his days at Soul Society, before he had betrayed everyone. The thought was sickening.

And then, there was the task he had asked of her.

She looked at Grimmjow.

He looked at her, his expression clearly disbelieving. He obviously didn't believe she could do it. Orihime pursed her lips, wanting to prove him wrong, to show them all that she wasn't just a frightened school girl in over her head. For Ichigo, Tatsuki, Chad, Uryuu, everyone... she would show them. But still...

His arm?

Orihime gulped—she'd had experience mending badly injured arms, but to completely regenerate a new one? She looked up into the face of the arrogant Arrancar, suddenly hesitant.

Could she do it?

It will take a great deal of power to do what he expects of you. You have that power—but if he senses that you do not, or that you are holding back…

She stole a glance at Ulquiorra, whose eyes were closed. He seemed terribly rigid, unsettled even, but wanting to hide it. He was not calm as he had been when she had seen him. Was it only because he stood in front of Aizen...? Orihime sighed quietly, wanting to see him relaxed again. If she hurried and finished, they could all leave anyway.

I can do this.

"All right," she breathed, drawing on the familiar warm energy as she moved closer to Grimmjow. Her hands outstretched, the familiar triangular shaped shield appearing over the place where the Arrancar's arm should have been. She closed her eyes, focusing the healing energy with all her willpower.

And slowly, very slowly, a sliver of material dissolved into existence. She heard Grimmjow start in surprise, but kept her focus. If she could just build on that small bit, she would be able to continue. Getting something to form under the shield was the hard part. Especially after the grievous wound had already healed itself. There was something in the wound that was venomous as well - as if something were impeding her progress. It didn't come from Aizen, she realized, but from the blind shinigami standing before the throne. Had he been the one to remove Grimmjow's arm? Was this the way the Soul Reapers treated their minions?

Suddenly she knew why Ulquiorra seemed so nervous.

Eventually, bone, muscles, tendons, all woven together under her command formed underneath the warm orange light. At this point, Grimmjow's face was slack in bewilderment as his newly regenerated arm appeared piece by piece before his very eyes. The fingers were the last to appear, and from the base of the arm to the tip of the fingers—finished at last!

Grimmjow looked at his hand in surprise as the glowing shield dissipated.

"Well done," said Aizen from above them, obviously pleased. She looked back to Grimmjow, whose eyes shifted abruptly to the violet-eyed Arrancar nearby. There was a hungry expression written on the cerulean-haired Arrancar's visage, and he inclined his head briefly in the human girl's direction.

Was that a 'thank you'?

"Heal one more spot," he addressed her; his voice sharp and crisp. With that, he turned, and lifted his short jacket to expose a vicious burn scar on his lower back. She raised the orange shield again, watching in astonishment as a dark, black number six appeared on his tanned skin. The same number she had seen on the beaten Arrancar's stomach. Orihime finished that as well, suddenly fearful.

"What do you think you're doing, Grimmjow?" the petrified voice of the beaten Arrancar suddenly demanded. Orihime glanced sidelong at him, worried for him. The ominous sense she had gotten from the fierce Arrancar intensified. Suddenly, she wished she hadn't healed him - but she had had no choice... The blue-haired Espada grinned mischievously, and then…

…dashed forward.

Orihime stifled a gasp, struggling to maintain her calm demeanor, and from the corner of her eye, she could see Ulquiorra close his eyes, as if in serene acknowledgement. There was a thin coughing sound, and Orihime saw a trickle of blood issue from the corner of the violet-eyed Arrancar's mouth. Grimmjow had used his newly regenerated left arm to impale the beaten man.

"G-Grimmjow, you bastard," the Arrancar wheezed, his light voice weak. Orihime's eyes widened in horror as Grimmjow threw the injured man aside. His thin figure danced in mid-air; he barely managed to land on his feet, hunched and coughing. Orihime looked back at Grimmjow, her eyes pleading. This wasn't right. He was defenseless - she felt the urge to protect him, but her feet couldn't move. A brilliant sphere of red formed in the blue-eyed Espada's hand…

"N—no—!" Orihime cried, but the sound of her voice was drowned out in the explosion that followed. The purple-eyed Arrancar vanished in a flash of dust, and Grimmjow threw his head back and—laughed. Aizen stared down at all of them with a placid smile on his face; as the Espada's rising cackle rang throughout the hall.

"I'm back! My powers are back!" he yelled insanely. "The sixth Espada!" His laughter rose higher still, and Orihime laid a hand over her heart, which was thrumming wildly. She was shocked at what she had seen, and perceived...

"You, of course, will serve willingly, Orihime Inoue?" she heard Aizen ask distantly, as Grimmjow finally took his place at his side. Orihime composed herself, face still colorless, and quickly considered his question. But then, there was nothing to consider. It had been a display of cruelty on all counts, and it showed, that despite Aizen's outward charm, he was unyielding and harsh. She would die here if she did not agree to obey, as Ulquiorra had said, and if her friends tried to rescue her, they would only be walking into a trap.

They're probably walking into a trap anyway.

If only she could have gone with Kuchiki-san that day!

"Yes, Aizen…sama," she replied fragilely, bowing at the waist. Above, she could all but see him chuckling, satisfied. His plans were coming along perfectly. He had seen proof of her ability, and it would be enough. Aizen turned his attention away from her, and Orihime looked at the floor, speechless.

"Ulquiorra," the traitor shinigami continued. "Please take her back to her quarters. I will send for her in a few days time." She heard Ulquiorra near her, and looked up, her eyes betraying her fear. What sort of place was this, then? Would she ever be able to see her world again?

Glad to be gone from their frightful presence at last, Orihime followed the fourth Espada from the throne room, walking beside him as they passed into the darkened halls of Las Noches. With Ulquiorra ahead of her, despite everything that had happened, she somehow felt secure. She told herself that he wasn't like Grimmjow, who had killed his fellow for a simple change of rank. He wasn't like Aizen, who had smiled at the sight of his minions fighting amongst each other. He had warned her that morning, and had brought her food. Was it because he pitied her? Could a Hollow feel pity? She told herself again and again that the pallid Arrancar was different, that somewhere underneath his cold mask…

…was someone like…

"Why," her voice whispered, bathed in fear. She halted, stumbling, and tried to throw her hand against the wall to steady herself.

It missed.

She felt herself falling, fatigue getting the better of her. Aizen's spiritual pressure was so strong... Soon she would feel the floor under her, and would have to pick herself up again to keep up with her captor. Her heart fluttered quickly. A disgusted feeling of embarrassment swooped through her stomach. He would turn and glare at her, perhaps disappointed.

She closed her eyes, felt something soft pressed against her cheek. Someone had their arms around her. They weren't warm, but they were exceedingly gentle. She opened her eyes, looked into those of luminous green. His face was as expressionless as ever, and it was hard to believe he was the one who had caught her.

He said nothing as she regained her balance and backed away sheepishly.

"I'm sorry," Orihime said hastily. Her hands clasped at her back, and she looked at the floor.

"Come," Ulquiorra ordered quietly. His voice was distant, as if something pressing was on his mind, and she felt a twinge of curiosity to know what it was. The Arrancar turned, his steps light and graceful as always, and continued on. But his pace was noticeably slower.

Something in his demeanor mirrored what was in her heart. He ought to have left her alone with Aizen, but he had stayed. She had caught a glimpse of him in the throne room, and had been surprised to see him disquieted. Had he been worried about her? Why had he seemed so tense? Why did he follow her to the throne room in the first place…?

So many questions…

To top it off, Orihime had no idea where they were going, but somehow she felt it wasn't back to her small section of corridor. Ulquiorra was the one leading the way, fearlessly, for there were only two Hollows roaming these halls that were any threat to him; though of course she did not know it. Walking the halls of Las Noches was something Orihime would never feel comfortable doing, even if she knew this labyrinth by heart.

The scene kept replaying in her mind…

"I healed him… and all he did was turn his power against…" The girl remembered the sixth Espada's mirthless laugh, and shivered, feeling sick. Even though the beaten man was a Hollow, he had been completely defenseless… It hadn't been fair.

"Are you always so cruel to one another?" she asked, grabbing nervously at the fabric of her sweater. Ulquiorra looked at her with a slightly curious light in his eyes.

"If the need arises," he replied calmly. "Luppi was weak. He allowed himself to be weakened by those he ought to have crushed easily, and was then crushed himself by those far stronger than he. An Arrancar within the ranks of the Espada cannot be so lax." He put his hands into his pockets in a nonchalant manner, his voice as indifferent as a machine's. Orihime stared at him, shocked. Was he saying that the Arrancar - Luppi - had deserved his punishment? Just because he had lost a battle?

"He paid for his lack of foresight."

The redhead cringed at his words, the smoothness of his logic—all without any empathy. Disbelieving, she drew breath to speak again.

"You would have done the same if I had been healing you instead of Grimmjow?" she asked, and there was a pleading note in her voice, though she didn't know exactly how it had gotten there. Ulquiorra's pace had slowed even further during the course of the conversation, to allow the human girl to stand beside him as they walked. Now they came to a dead stop, as Orihime had stopped moving. Ulquiorra peered down at her, but his countenance was unreadable.

"Why should I not?"

Orihime glared at him, his expressionless face, and desired nothing more than to slap it.

"What about me, then?" she whispered. "You didn't kill me when I was 'weak'. You only gave me a warning." Even as she said it, she knew she was making assumptions. Still, she stared half-accusingly, as she would an errant child. He blinked once, and for a split second, she thought he might be hesitating, but the shift was fleeting at best.

"You are still alive, Orihime, because you are useful. That is the difference between you and Luppi."

"Why did you warn me?" she asked, determined to make him see his flaws. But they were only flaws to her, she realized. To him, they were strengths in this wicked place.

"So that you would show your full power."

"Why did you come with me?"

"You would have preferred me not to come?" he turned her own question against her. Orihime balked at his sudden retort. She glared at him, his listless face that never told her anything about what he was thinking. The answer to his question was on her tongue before she knew it, but Orihime dared not voice it. It would have proven him right.

"That's not… you didn't… didn't answer my—" she stuttered, unsure of why this had made her agitated. But before she could come up with a coherent response, he had resumed walking again, leaving her miserable and irritated as she followed behind him…

Where are they going? Find out next chappie!

Lawl. Luppi's a dude. Much thanks to Aikachi for clearing that little mistake up. It was a bit hard for me to tell in the anime... XP

Thanks much to all my awesomeness reviewers! I wuffles you!

Once again, I don't own Bleach.