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

V

Promise

Orihime finished her bath, wanting nothing more than to fall on her rudimentary futon and drift off to sleep. It seemed the relaxing warm water hadn't seeped all the aches from her body, but it did help. Only now, she felt extremely tired. She was glad Ulquiorra had the sense to know that she had had enough after the battle—even if she hadn't.

I called him a bully.

Orihime smiled to herself, sheepishly, wishing she hadn't gotten so angry with him; then realized what she was doing and quickly resumed an aloof expression.

The redhead had procured a long bathrobe from the closet in the large bathroom, and now wore it as she walked to her room. She saw a mass of fabric on her futon in the corner, and edged nearer. It wasn't her uniform—she had left that in the bathroom—nor was it anything she had seen on an Arrancar in Las Noches—it was too dark-colored for that. She squinted closer at it—the light outside was fading, and it made it increasingly difficult to see.

A kimono?

Her fingers ran easily over the soft fabric. She held it up to the moonlight, admiringly. The cloth was black, stitched with the designs of crimson lilies near the bottom edges and on the sleeves. It was very beautiful, but it wasn't as if anyone would be seeing her in it. She planned on getting her uniform back the next morning—especially if she expected to spar with Ulquiorra tomorrow. Running around and sweating in a kimono just didn't sound fun, or wise for that matter—she'd ruin the beautiful designs embroidered into it. Upon further inspection, she found that a pair of slippers rested against the wall near her bed.

Was this Ulquiorra's doing? Orihime doubted it, but he had been the one to get her food for the last few days… She found herself blushing, nonetheless.

All right, since there seems to be nothing else to wear…

She went to her little entrance, looking for a door handle. It seemed to have no door, but she eventually found that it worked a bit like a screen—it slid out of the wall. Satisfied with her new discovery, she closed it, though there was no visible lock.

Some prison cell, she thought to herself. I could just walk out any time I wanted—but then the Hollows would get me.

Still, she imagined she would start closing the door at night—it would make her feel more secure at any rate, rather than just having it open for all eyes to see. Even though this was Ulquiorra's hall, she was wary of all who lurked there. Ulquiorra couldn't be there to guard her all the time, as she had discovered with the Hollow in the dark corridor…

With that thought in mind, she quickly put the kimono and slippers on.

At least it was comfortable, she reasoned, looking at her long sleeves. The half-dry strands of her hair lay flat against the fabric—it would have been nice to have a hair clip. She was in the midst of trying to do something with her hair when she heard a knock on her newly acquired door. She brightened at the sound—maybe Ulquiorra had returned with some dinner. Hungrily, she started for the door…

Hold on, better to be safe than sorry.

She checked the light outside, now her only mode of telling time. It was late—the moon had already risen, nearly full and pale. Orihime neared the entrance cautiously, and slid the door back into its place inside the wall. Above the threshold, a wickedly grinning face greeted her. Above the slanted eyes, she could see a tousled nest of silver hair.

It was Gin Ichimaru.

She gasped audibly, wishing too late that she hadn't, knowing that it was very rude. But maybe he hadn't noticed…

"Surprised ya, huh?" the tall shinigami chuckled. No such luck, thought Orihime. "S'a nice outfit you got on. Did Green Tears pick that out for ya?" He held a lantern in his hand, and put it nearer to her to have a better look at her kimono. The shifting yellow light threw his face into relief, making him seem even more sinister because it twisted his smile. Orihime looked at him with a mixture of confusion and apprehension dawning across her features, wondering why he had come.

"I—I'm really not c—certain… umm…" she stuttered helplessly, before falling silent. He stared at her for a minute or two, although he might have fallen asleep. It was really hard to tell. Like Ulquiorra, his face was perpetually in the same expression. But unlike Ulquiorra, his eyes were always closed. At least one could tell when the fourth Espada was awake.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, bowing a little at the waist. "Did you need me for something, Ichimaru-san?" Another thought immediately struck her, and it was not for her safety, but for Ulquiorra's. Where was he? Had someone seen them sparring? But then, there wasn't anything wrong with that, was there?

"Nah nah," he said, resuming his chuckle. "Well, in a manner o' speakin'. Ya see, we all figured it was gettin' kinda borin' round here… An' by 'we' I mean 'me'." There was another pregnant pause, and Orihime's brow furrowed in puzzlement.

"I'm not sure what you mean," she said cautiously, and there was a tiny quiver of fear in her voice.

Careful… you aren't talking to an idiot…

"So, I'm throwin' a lil get-together. Everyone can get ta know ya. Whatcha say? Green Tears can tag along if ya can get 'im ta come." Ichimaru loomed over her, his seemingly friendly smile wide and toothy.

A party?

Who on earth would be there? Some of the strange Arrancar she had seen that morning? The Soul Reapers who had defected? Surely not Aizen himself? Orihime gulped. The whole situation seemed troublesome to her. Yet she knew it wasn't wise to anger one of Aizen's direct inferiors. And he had come here himself, which meant he must have an important reason… either that, or he just really wanted to make trouble. What should she do?

"That sounds lovely, Ichimaru-san," she replied nervously, hoping she was making the right decision. "I'd be happy to come." Ichimaru's already broad smile lengthened even further, and Orihime swallowed, apprehensive. What had she gotten herself into?

"Good," he said, his oily voice dripping with satisfaction. "I'll see ya next week then." He turned abruptly, and Orihime watched in shock as the glow from his lantern disappeared down the dreary hall. She blinked once, deciding that the sinister fox-face was once again up to something. She recalled him trying to bait Ulquiorra earlier that day… but was that because he was merely bored, or because he genuinely meant them harm?

Probably both.

Next week? Couldn't he wait?

Orihime sat on her little couch in the dark, feeling very vulnerable, watching the open entrance, and wishing Ulquiorra would come so that she could tell him of the ex-captain's impromptu visit. Now that she had accepted Ichimaru's invitation, she knew very much that she didn't want to go alone. Somehow, she expected she would feel much more secure if the fourth Espada were around when the time came—but Ulquiorra would definitely take the ex-captain's visit as a threat. Orihime reasoned this because he had entered the Arrancar's hallway without permission, and their confrontation earlier clearly showed that they were not friends. Would Ulquiorra consent to come with her?

I hope so…

A few moments later, her wish was granted. There was a dim light in her doorway, which she half-expected to be Ichimaru returning, but it was only the fourth Espada, carrying what looked like a tray of tea and cookies. He had also brought a duo of candles for her to eat by. The Vasto Lorde set the tray on the small table and stood over her. She waited, wondering how he would react when she told him of the nerve-racking situation.

"You are not hungry?" he asked. The redhead looked up at him, concern painting her features. He watched her carefully.

"Gin Ichimaru came by just now," she explained, and if the news surprised Ulquiorra, he did not show it. "He invited me to a… party… a 'get-together' is what he called it. And he said you can come too. He said it's going to be held next week." She waited for him to say something, to respond in some way, but he did not. "I accepted," she finished lamely, wondering if she could have handled the situation better. He had sprung on her so quickly—it had gotten her flustered. That's probably what the shinigami wanted, anyway.

"It would have been unintelligent on your part to refuse," Ulquiorra replied shortly, much to her surprise. Orihime sighed in relief, and felt a weight she hadn't known had been there lift from her shoulders. She had done the right thing, then.

"Will you come with me?" she asked, almost plaintively. She was foundering in the dark, not knowing where to turn. If she had to go alone, what would happen? She watched nervously as he closed his eyes.

"If you wish."

Relief poured through her, and as she looked at the tray of food, she realized just how hungry she was. She grabbed the first pastry without delay and crammed it into her mouth, the Arrancar's curious stare notwithstanding. In another ten minutes, the plate of food was devoured, and she was drinking her third cup of tea.

Ulquiorra had decided to stay. He sat on the opposite end of the couch, though his eyes never left her. Orihime was beginning to feel disconcerted, since he hadn't spoken the whole time she had been eating. She listened to the flickering candles as she sipped her warm tea, and observed him, studied his appearance closely as she hadn't in nearly a month. The yellow light of the candles flickered in his eyes, and softened his pale face.

He was, she thought, very handsome. Not in the same way that Ichigo was, playful and roguish, but there was a certain smoothness and grace to his pallid features that was attractive. She watched the dancing light play across his porcelain cheeks. The tearstains stood out darkly on his waxen skin, as if he were crying ink. She studied his smooth, dark hair, remembering the feel of it on her face…

I need to stop that, she thought, looking away, and moved to take another sip of her tea.

It was empty.

She set the teacup down with a dull clack, deciding it was time for him to leave. Clearing her throat as a pretense, she gave a little fake yawn.

"Well," she mumbled. "I'm going to—"

—bed.

But he was already pouring another cup of tea for her to drink. He had shifted closer to her so that he could reach the teapot. As he leaned over, Ulquiorra was somehow able to pour the drink and look sidelong at her at the same time. She felt her face redden, and decided that the steaming beverage was much more interesting than the person sitting beside her. Was it just she, or had the couch shrunk?

"T-thank you," she suddenly remembered to say. But she did not reach for the cup.

"So, ummm…" she began, trying to think of a topic they could discuss. Her fingers gripped nervously at the cloth of her kimono.

Kimono!

"Where did you get this kimono from?" she asked, her voice louder than she meant it to be. "It's very nice." Orihime was poised on the farthermost corner of the couch—if it had lacked an armrest, she would have fallen off seconds ago. Her eyes which had been focused on the smooth porcelain of the teacup, now moved to study the crumbs left on the small plate.

"I would not know," she heard him say quietly, indifferently. "I was not the one who procured it." His voice was so close, but she dared not turn her head to look at him. She felt, rather than saw him less than a foot away. If she glanced at the floor, she could see his sandaled feet, and the edges of his white hakama.

"Oh," her voice became very small.

Quick, think of something else to say!

The silence was long and drawn out, and Orihime's mind was once again blank, as it had been the night she had been taken to Hueco Mundo. It was funny how the Espada had that effect on people, she thought. Or perhaps it was just her…

Her heartbeat rang in her ears.

"You are not thirsty?" she heard him murmur, his deep voice silky and calm. It was so different from anyone else's that she knew. Ulquiorra never became flustered, never slurred his speech, never made mistakes. Everything he did was calculated, everything a means to an end. By asking that much, he probably already had her response in his head. But why was he here to begin with, and what would his end be?

"Aren't you?" she returned, wanting to catch him off guard. It seemed as though she fought a war to keep herself from looking at him—and lost. Orihime found herself absentmindedly reaching for the teacup, trapped in his transparent stare. Both hands cupped around it, she tried to bring it to her lips, but realized that his hands were there as well.

Over hers.

They were cool, but firm, while her own trembled underneath. He steadied them, brought both cup and hands to his own lips, and took a quiet sip. If she looked closely, she might have seen him smirking, or perhaps it was only the flickering warm light.

He relinquished both cup and hands, and Orihime, mouth ajar, abruptly pulled the drink away, jolting from her seat on the couch as if she had suddenly realized it were covered in spines.

"IthinkI'mgoingtobednow!" she said too fast, her voice several notes higher than it normally was. She walked quickly to the corner of the room where her futon lay, turned, and watched him seated on the couch. Ulquiorra stood placidly and took up the empty tray and candles, leaving Orihime alone with her teacup in the dark.

Orihime had fallen asleep immediately after the fourth Espada left her room, and had risen late the next morning wondering if the scenario had been a dream. The innocently gleaming teacup next to her futon told her that it had not. She looked away from it, and buried her face in the soft pillow.

Oh come on, he just drank some of your tea! Nothing to be crazy about…

She had asked if he were thirsty.

So he was just saying, 'yes'?

No.

That's enough of that! Think about Ichigo!

That was right; Ichigo would come soon, and she could forget all about this mess. As soon as she left, she could resume her normal life—Hollow free. Orihime was a prisoner here—she could never forget that—but once she was free she could help her friends fight Aizen and his minions, and they could have peace again. No more fighting, no more injuries, no more worrying. The redhead sighed. It was beginning to become hard to believe that Ulquiorra was counted among those she would have to fight against. She buried her face even deeper into the pillow; her eyes squinted shut.

He saved my life…

Because she was 'useful,' she thought. Once she was of no more use, he would not hesitate to dispose of her if his master ordered it. Ulquiorra was loyal to Aizen above all else; Orihime of all people should know that. He was dangerous, not to be trusted. He was a Menos Grande for heaven's sake! A creature born of despairing souls, starving for more.

"He's evil," Orihime mumbled into the pillow, but the words were only audible as a tiny groan. She wished she could go back to sleep, but her mind was already spinning with questions, and her stomach growled.

The human girl sat up slowly, most of the aches after yesterday's duel lost in the night's strangely undisturbed sleep. She must have been getting used to this place, she thought. Or, perhaps it was the added comfort of her closed screen door. Orihime looked merrily out of the window—no nasty Hollows would come to visit her at night now—well, at least not without her knowing.

The redhead glanced around at the entrance—and saw that the door was wide open. Startled, she looked around, and saw Ulquiorra sitting on the couch, near the same spot he had been the night before. She ogled at him blearily, her eyes wide—exactly how long had he been there?

So much for my foolproof screen door.

She either slept like a dead tree, or Ulquiorra could be unnaturally quiet when he really wanted to be. Orihime frowned.

"I shut the door for a reason, you know," she chided grumpily, her previous thoughts still fresh in her mind. Orihime stretched and yawned theatrically, her wrinkled kimono sleeves sliding all the way down her pale arms. "I don't want any Menos coming in and deciding to eat my soul when I'm sleeping."

"Your paranoid fears are none of my concern, woman," Ulquiorra responded smoothly, putting careful emphasis on the last word. "This is my hall, and I have told you that no one will harm you here." Orihime bristled at these words, her already awakened temper flaring. How dare he enter without her permission, call her 'woman', and tell her she was being paranoid? And, how dare he act so casual after what had happened the night before?

What, drinking your tea when you offered it to him?

As if he didn't know what he was doing! And he had opened her door without permission, and had stared at her for who knew how long as she slept. And now, he had the audacity to tell her off for it! His hall, indeed…

He could at least knock!

"What about Ichimaru?" she asked tersely, once again further incensed that he hadn't called her by name.

"That man serves under Aizen-sama. He will not harm you so long as you do not anger him."

"And what if I don't want you in here spying on me while I sleep?" snapped Orihime. Ulquiorra blinked, his expression not shifting in the least, but his eyes gleamed with a different light as they stared into her own.

"You are angry with me," he remarked quietly.

She balked, taken aback by the comment. As with everything else, his words were a statement of fact, but unlike nearly everything else he had said so far, it didn't sound as though he could accomplish something just by saying it. It was honest, and it made Orihime feel guilty. She looked into her lap, regretfully, her fiery temper quenched.

"I'm… just worried about my friends," she said, her eyes distant, knowing that the words were half-true. "I would really like to see them." She heard him sigh, perhaps wistfully.

"Very well."

Excited, she returned her gaze to Ulquiorra, expecting him to reopen one of his portals, but instead she saw that his fingers were pressed against the white of his eye. Orihime stared incredulously at him, wondering what he was about to do as much as she wondered how he could keep both of his eyes perfectly open while touching one. It looked as though he was about to remove a contact lens, but his fingers were spaced too widely apart for that. Suddenly, the digits tightened, not around any lens, but around the eye itself. The human girl made a strangled noise of protest just before the Espada gave a pliant tug.

Orihime pressed a hand to her mouth in mingled horror and shock; her face blanched the color of the wall behind her. The perfect sphere sat flat on his palm, like a deadened glass marble. His lid lay closed over the empty socket.

"What are you doing?!" she exclaimed. "Your poor eye!"

"It will regenerate in time," the Arrancar replied indifferently, his remaining eye widened at her reaction. "I have observed your friends firsthand, on Aizen-sama's orders. This way, I can show you as well." He took the orb between his thumb and fingers, but Orihime looked away, feeling sick.

"Please put it back," she whispered. Ulquiorra tilted his head in confusion, but did not protest. He swiftly put the eye back in its place. Only then did Orihime look back at him, and there was pity written on her features.

"Does Aizen make you do that every time you spy on people for him?" she asked, concern tainting her voice. "It must hurt very badly."

"It is necessary, at times, for Aizen-sama to study important events that I have observed," Ulquiorra explained, still confused. "The eye regenerates, as I have said."

"If you spied on my friends," Orihime said as she offered him a gentle smile. "You don't have to dismember yourself to show me what you saw." Ulquiorra blinked, and her smile broadened.

"Just tell me."

Ichigo rose from his bed nearly a week later with a jolt, feeling unseen eyes trained on him. The fight with Grimmjow had been draining—more draining than it should have been. His inner Hollow had seen to that—the final moment when he had been frozen, unable to continue, seemed to last forever. He vaguely remembered someone else—someone else had stopped Grimmjow from dealing the final blow… but he couldn't quite place him. Who had it been?

The scene from a month earlier returned from his memories, and suddenly he remembered. The pale, green eyed Arrancar—the one who had watched while his fellow beat the stuffing out of him! Grimmjow had called the other Hollow a 'damned traitor'. It was the only clear sentence he heard through his sorely pounding head.

Ichigo sat up slowly, testing his injuries. His room was darkened, probably for his comfort, but as he rose to his feet, he nearly tripped over a chair with a short, dark-haired girl in it.

"Sit down," Rukia said somberly, and Ichigo gawked at the serious look on her face, as well as the fact that she hadn't told him off for stumbling over her. The carrot-topped shinigami obeyed her, slowly, without a word. Something was amiss.

"Orihime's gone," she explained.

"What?" he asked, disbelieving. Even as he asked it, the words were beginning to sink in. Orihime, his friend, the one who had stood by his side from the very beginning, who worried for him, healed him, made him laugh was…

"She's gone. We sent her here with guards, and when we came back for her, she was missing. The guards were unconscious." A flurry of emotions and thoughts ran through Ichigo's mind, but before he could voice them, Rukia had spoken again. "The guards woke, and told us a Menos Grande was the one who attacked them. They think it took her."

"Where is she?!" Ichigo blurted, his constricted throat finally loosening. Anger and panic writhed like snakes inside of him, made him sit up on the edge of his bed. As soon as Rukia said where to go, he would bolt for the door and find her himself.

"Hueco Mundo," replied Rukia and Ichigo jumped to his feet, looking for Zangetsu. He would run, find Urahara-san; get him to open the portal that would take him there. Then he would find Orihime somehow. "But—no, listen to me idiot! You're going to need help!"

"So, get some Soul Society people over here!" he yelled, waving his arms. Rukia shook her head vigorously.

"I was trying to tell you before you jumped up all of a sudden! Soul Society thinks Orihime left on her own! That she's a traitor!" There was a protracted silence, in which Ichigo mouthed like a fish out of water, his arms spread wide.

"What the hell?!" Ichigo cried, exasperated. "You've got to be kidding me! Are you guys just a bunch of freakin' brainless morons, or what?! So nobody's gonna help me go and rescue her, then, is that what I can assume?!"

Rukia summarily kicked him in the shins.

"You've got me and Renji! We're not—" Rukia cleared her throat. "—well, I'm not brainless! But it's going to take some time to—"

"Time we don't have!" shouted Ichigo at the top of his lungs. Rukia looked quizzical at his sudden interruption. "I'll just find her myself—get Chad and Ishida to come with me, find Urahara…"

"You still haven't learned to control your Hollow, yet!" This time it was her turn to interrupt. Ichigo fell silent at the stern expression on her small face. It was an awkward topic. Nevertheless, he bristled, that headstrong glint still in his eyes. "What do you think you're gonna prove, going to Hueco Mundo like that? You can't even stand up to one-armed Grimmjow—how are you gonna take on Hueco Mundo, then?"

That had stung. The red-haired Soul Reaper stared at Rukia, watched as she sighed.

"You need more training," she said, more calmly. "Orihime's going to be all right. If they had wanted to hurt her, they wouldn't have gone to such lengths to kidnap her. So take your time and get stronger, because you're gonna need every ounce of your strength to get through that place alive."

"You all right there, girlie?" a wizened, reedy voice greeted Orihime as she awakened with a start from her short nap. The redhead sat bolt upright, wishing immediately that she hadn't, for the most recent of her sparring matches with Ulquiorra had left her body aching. Judging by the passing days, it had been two weeks since her arrival—they had gone by easily enough, so much so that she hardly noticed their passing. Each day the human and the Hollow would speak, and then walk to the oasis to duel. Orihime smiled proudly; she was getting better at holding her defense, but still, Tsubaki had yet to heed her call. No matter how many times she defended, eventually Ulquiorra's constant rain of offensive moves would wear her down, and they would have to stop for the day.

She rubbed her sides tiredly, her eyes meeting the hunched form of the servant who brought her food when Ulquiorra wasn't around—a rarity now. His visits had become part of her routine, and while she still knew very little of him, she imagined that she had told him just about everything having to do with herself. Everything except…

Ichigo.

She had lost all hope of seeing him anytime soon in person, but Ulquiorra had told her of him numerous times as he ventured throughout the dimensions, and so for now, she was satisfied.

"I'm okay, thank you," replied Orihime politely, and the servant finished laying out her lunch. She sat on the futon, having showered that morning, and noticed that there was another kimono on her couch—this one a lovely periwinkle blue. She had been wearing a variety of kimonos during the evenings; but this one seemed slightly nicer—and there was a hairclip to go with it. Strange enough, but it was better than wearing her uniform, which inevitably got filthy after every sparring match. The sweater and skirt were getting pretty worn, she admitted. She would have to find something else to wear soon.

"Where's Ulquiorra?" she asked the servant.

"Don't ask me, girlie," the reedy voice replied. "Dunno where he goes most of the time—keeps to himself usually. He did tell me to pick out somethin' nice for you to wear tonight—I guess you've got plans, then?" An oily drop of apprehension slithered through Orihime's insides, and it was then that she remembered the visit from the devious silver-haired shinigami.

Ichimaru's party… I completely forgot…

The old servant wore such a puzzled expression as he took a long look at the human girl that Orihime began to feel uncomfortable.

"Is that so strange?" she broke the silence.

"I just never seen him do anything if wasn't for himself before," the servant mused, more to himself than the girl on the bed. "When he got the job of takin' care of you, I expected him to have me doin' all the work." The wizened Hollow shook his head briefly; bushy gray brows raised, and with his usual shuffling gait he took his leave.

A few minutes later, Orihime was dressed, and enjoying her lunch of onigiri and fruit, seated on the couch. The Menos Grande servant seemed to have a bit more experience in human dining habits than the fourth Espada, she thought, and also perhaps in what humans wore—even if they were a few hundred years out of date, her kimonos were very beautiful. The redhead laughed to herself; in all his visits to her world, had Ulquiorra not bothered to look around at the fashions of the day?

The old Hollow's words echoed in her head. So she could assume that Ulquiorra was normally unbelievably selfish and aloof—not so hard to believe. Still, it was interesting to get another's perspective. Could it be altogether possible that her stay in Hueco Mundo had changed him?

Wait a minute. Maybe I'm thinking about this too much…

The two weeks that she had been here had made her complacent, she decided. Beautiful kimonos, good food, and interesting company aside, she was still a prisoner. And he had gotten used to her—befriended her so that she would be more willing to stay and cooperate. That's what she kept telling herself, anyway.

"Aizen-sama has set your meeting with him in three weeks' time," a familiar deep voice intoned. Orihime jumped—she'd been playing with her silver bracelet for a few minutes now, and hadn't noticed Ulquiorra's entrance. He stood in the doorframe, as he had for many days previous, and simply observed her before coming nearer. While his appearance had once unnerved her, now it cheered her, though she did not realize it. His ghostly figure slid towards her, and Orihime marveled at how quiet he was.

"Why so far away? Why not sooner?" she asked him as he studied the kimono folded beside her. He picked up the hairpin and spun it between his long fingers. It gleamed golden in the waxing sunlight.

"He is making preparations for the war to come."

Orihime tensed, envisioning her friends caught in battle—perhaps with Ulquiorra as their enemy. The thought sickened her, made her look at the Espada standing in her room with a mixture of worry for his safety and fear of his powers. What if they killed each other?

"Ulquiorra," she said, and the tone in her voice immediately brought his eyes to hers. "Will you be fighting, too?" He seemed to take his time thinking, as if pondering over how best to answer. And in that moment, Orihime decided that she did not care if the Espada was only befriending her to gain her cooperation.

It didn't matter.

"If Aizen-sama demands it, I do not have a choice."

"I see," she said, and then stood up. For the first time, Ulquiorra was the one who took a tiny step back—the smallest of movements, but the clear resolve in her sapphire orbs had warranted it. "Then, I want to ask something of you, Ulquiorra Schiffer."

He nodded once, slowly, his attention solely on the girl standing stalwart before him.

"I don't want any of my friends to die," she began softly, though her voice was unwavering. "So please don't kill anyone. And…" She paused, looked away from him for a moment. Her eyes studied the pale blue kimono, the golden hairclip that he had just set back in its place.

"If you're up against someone stronger than you are, promise me you won't get killed." She looked back at him, his expressionless visage rendered soft in the afternoon rays. Not expressionless, she realized. Dumbfounded. She had observed him long enough now to know. Seemingly at a loss for words, he nodded once again, and Orihime smiled playfully and clasped her hands at her back, her determined look washed away by relief.

This chapter is so long, that I'm afraid I'm going to have to split it into two! Otherwise, this chapter will be like, 298729875 words long, which will look really weird when all the other ones are around 4k. But anyway… enjoy!

I figured I had to do a short little blurb about what Ichigo's up to… hope I didn't completely butcher his character… Lawl. I'm actually a huge Ichi/Ruki fan. Though I don't really feel inspired to do a fanfic on that pairing - right now.

About the kimonos - I'm a sucker for kimonos - so sue me. Not really, please don't.

I love Ichimaru's character, so I'm really glad I found a way to put him in there. He's a real troublemaker in this story... And what's he up to, anyway? Lawl... find out next chappie! XD

I don't own Bleach. Many many many thanks to my loverly reviewers! I heart you all!