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

IX

One Last Time

Orihime sat against the cold marble wall, her knees hugged closely against her chest. The skirt of her Arrancar's dress tumbled in ruffled folds around her. Her face was wet with tears; she stared into her lap, feeling numb. Reality, it seemed, had caught up with her—how could one of her dearest friends be gone? Had she really thought everyone would come out all right in the end once they entered Las Noches? It was the enemy's stronghold, full of armies of monsters, both numerous and powerful. Orihime sobbed suddenly, remembering what she had had sensed—the cold spiritual pressure that was at once familiar and yet completely alien to her.

She had been killed by an Espada.

Orihime kept darting glances to the doorframe, expectantly. Ulquiorra hadn't come in yet; hadn't been in the room all night. She grimaced at the thought that kept returning to her; that despite everything she had believed she knew about him, he was still an enemy. The enormity of her situation had stricken her all of a sudden; she had been kidnapped for her powers, and her friends were on their way to rescue her. She hadn't given any thought to run away—the one attempt she had made had been ill planned. Orihime buried her face in her sleeves. She hadn't even wanted to escape…

She had wanted to stay longer…

And he hadn't been with her when she sensed it happen. She had been alone in her room, half-asleep because she had been worried for her friends. All the while she lay awake wondering if it could it have been possible that he had done it.

He promised me…

She trusted him; and there was more than one Espada in Las Noches. He had left her with a kiss as Ichigo and the others had entered the castle—why would he do something like that if not to reassure her?

"Kuchiki-san," she sobbed.

"The female Soul Reaper lives," a calm, quiet voice from the direction of the sofa sent shivers down her spine. Orihime jumped at the sudden sound, her tearful eyes meeting the watchful gaze of the fourth Espada.

"Is she all right?" Orihime asked quickly, rising on her feet as if about to go and help her friend herself.

"There is no permanent damage," replied Ulquiorra, as cold and calculating an answer as ever.

Orihime sighed in relief, hiding her face in her hands.

"I thought…" she trailed off, unable to finish. She had convinced herself that Ulquiorra was someone who she could trust, and whom she cared for. So why was it that she still had doubts about his actions?

"You believed I was the one who attacked her," finished Ulquiorra for her, his toneless voice softer than usual. Orihime looked at him guiltily, knowing his words to be true, but not having a clue as to what to say to him. He blinked once, as if understanding what she was thinking at that moment. "It is a valid concern given your circumstances."

The human girl stared at him, unsure of whether to take the comment by way of comfort or warning. He hadn't said 'I wouldn't do something like that', or 'that was a stupid thing for you to think'. But then, Ulquiorra wouldn't say those things—Orihime had come to expect him not to, and to interpret what he said based on what he did. She had half-enjoyed such a task before, but now it scared her; she found that she wanted straight answers for once—when it concerned the lives of those she cared about.

"Who was it?" she asked, unable to stop herself.

"Aaroniero Arruruerie lies slain," he answered indifferently. It was a simple statement of fact; Orihime had ceased to believe that Ulquiorra had any close ties with his counterparts. According to the old Arrancar, he 'kept to himself'. But she was glad somehow that it hadn't been him up against one of her closest friends.

Aaroniero—the frightening two-voiced Arrancar she had heard speak with someone else yesterday… Kuchiki-san had faced him alone. It must have been a harrowing experience—Orihime wondered what horrible things had happened during the course of their battle. The drop in her spiritual pressure had been so sudden. And the scenario had brought about the realization that sooner or later, her comrades would come for her; but a steadily growing anxiety was beginning to haunt her—what would Ulquiorra do when that time came?

What will I do?

She opened her mouth to speak, but Ulquiorra was already rising from his seat, stopping lazily in the center of the room and watching her expectantly. Then he held out his hand, which Orihime quickly got to her feet automatically to take. The bottom of her sleeve rose up slightly to expose the glimmering silver band around her thin wrist. She recalled the offer he had made the day before—and quickly wiped her tears away.

With his other hand, the Espada opened a rift in the thin air, which expanded and threw dim sunlight into the little room. Beyond the open portal lay a familiar sight: the edge of the park where she had first seen him. The morning sky on earth was cloudy and foreboding, patches of cerulean letting slim rays of light peek through. But the warm earthy breeze more than made up for it.

"Do not show yourself to anyone," he said quietly as she admired the scenery. "I will meet you later." He turned away, his fingers sliding away from her hand, but she held him fast. Ulquiorra glanced back at her abruptly, obviously surprised.

"But it won't be any fun if I go by myself," she remarked, smiling meekly. He observed her silently, as if shocked that she would say such a thing, but stepped through the portal as well, making certain to mask his aura of spiritual pressure as he did whenever spying for Aizen.

The grassy field was empty, both because it was early in the morning, and because it looked like it was going to rain. They stood where Yammy and Ulquiorra had stood many weeks before, the ground still barren where the larger Arrancar had been. She remembered with a sickening lurch that she and her friends had nearly been killed here. But as she exchanged glances with the Espada beside her, she was able to convince herself that things had changed. They were still holding hands; Orihime walked forward, with Ulquiorra beside her.

The city in the distance was only just awakening, the lamplights beginning to fade as the first of the morning traffic started to flow. Orihime began to wonder what time of year it was; she had been gone from her world for quite a while—her only visits in the past months had been brief at best. She imagined that her friends—her human ones—were worried…

"Orihime," she heard Ulquiorra's voice, a slight hint of concern staining its smooth tone.

"Oh!" she started, smiling up at him. "Sorry, I was just thinking about—well, anyway…" The human girl stopped, wondering what they should do first, when her eyes fell on the pastel pink tops of the sakura trees surrounding the pond.

"Wow! Look over there!" she cried, suddenly pointing, just before abruptly striding swiftly off towards the trees and dragging the Espada behind. They reached the blooming trees quickly, and Orihime let go of his hand, warmth rising in her cheeks because she realized she'd been holding it all of this time. This forest was similar and yet entirely different from the one in Hueco Mundo, she thought. The trees seemed so full of life, the petals blushing pink as they floated softly to the ground. Below her, the earth was littered in soft pink flowers—some of the falling petals came to rest on Ulquiorra's head and shoulders, and Orihime laughed as he frowned and brushed them off.

"Remember I told you I didn't get to see the sakura blossoms bloom this year?"

The pale Arrancar nodded once, his gaze shifting untrustingly to the flowering branches above him, as if they might attack him at any given moment. She reached up and plucked a set of flowers from the lowest reaching branch before walking up to him, watching him as if appraising his appearance.

"Hmmm… needs something," she said as she carefully placed the blossoms in his soft hair. "There."

The human girl giggled.

Ulquiorra's frown deepened as he folded his arms, but it only made Orihime laugh all the more. The Espada waited until Orihime's attention had gone elsewhere before taking the blossoms from his ebony strands. He studied them meticulously; they lay soft and delicate on his palm.

"Thank you for taking me back here," she said, looking around at the pond nearby. "And for saving me yesterday from those Hollows… that was scary." She shuddered, recalling the ravenous yellow eyes of the beasts trying to attack her.

"You did not seem frightened," he remarked softly, his gaze falling on the tree branches. It was said seemingly as an afterthought. Orihime stared at him—of course she'd been frightened. She'd been scared out of her wits… but…

She remembered Ulquiorra holding her tightly in his arms there on the top of the scarlet pillar as the wolves danced and leaped around them. He had been so unwilling to let her go, as if he didn't trust her to defend herself.

"You seemed frightened for me," she replied, half-jokingly. She laughed quietly, the bittersweet sound echoing throughout the silent park.

He glanced at her, his eyes puzzled, and yet sad. Orihime's brows rose slightly.

"You were really worried, weren't you?" she asked quietly.

Suddenly, he whipped around, his surcoat and hair spinning with him. The gesture was so sudden and violent that Orihime flinched, took a step backwards automatically. She felt something hard and cold behind her. It was rough—the bark of a tree.

"Tell me why," Ulquiorra murmured slowly, and the confused sound in his silky voice left her immediately silent. Her mind was wiped of thought, her face betraying her astonishment. She heard a slow thunder roll in the distance, and a lightning flash that turned his deep eyes into those of a demon. They were facing one another, and Orihime stood with her back against a tree trunk. The pungent odor of moisture hung in the air—rain was beginning to fall somewhere in the city.

"If you could have protected yourself," he murmured, the softness in his voice more noticeable than ever, "why should I have been concerned?" Orihime looked at him, at the glimmering ghostly countenance that in the half-light held all the emotions in the world. The question puzzled her. She had only been being playful.

The soft flat ovals of sakura petals fell like snow around them, pale and luminous in the grayscale atmosphere. The sun above was waxing behind its veil of clouds, cleaving a slim scar of white into the sodden sky. Beyond, she could hear the laden clouds whispering as they poured their contents over the earth. It sounded like a thunderstorm in the distance, but here, everything was tranquil. She watched as stray petals of the blossoming trees danced between them.

Orihime swallowed hard, sad, because his eyes demanded an answer, and because she could not give it. Of all the stupid emotions in the world, why should she feel sadness?

"It is foolish to become anxious over things that should not matter."

Orihime stared into his handsome face, not knowing what to say, as he searched hers himself. The tenseness was there again, perhaps unnoticeable to everyone else, but she had studied him closely enough by now to know, to be able to question…

He had put subtle emphasis on the word, should.

Orihime stood completely still, speechless, and in her heart her own conflicted feelings surfaced. Her friendship with those at home, and her feelings—she admitted—for one of the enemy. The Hollow that kept appearing nearer to her every time she blinked. He seemed so uncertain; but then, she supposed that it was partially her fault. She had acted, perhaps, only a little less cold towards him than he acted towards her.

But that was because she believed herself to love someone else entirely different.

She pressed her back against the surface behind her, and felt droplets of rain slide across her face—or were they tears?

Suddenly, it fell in cascades all around them; it soaked into her dress, his coat and hair lay smooth and wet across his pallid skin. As it fell atop his head and shoulders the water formed a ghostly mist around him; they were two lost spirits that no one could see.

She felt her body stiffen as he leaned closer to her. When had the distance between them closed so much? His face was centimeters away, his hand nearing her cheek hesitantly, as if she would shatter if he dared to touch it. She studied the pale curve of his jaw line, the sleek softness of his ebony hair. The rain was as cold as ice, but she could feel warmth seep into her cheeks. And then she knew, as if reaching a sudden epiphany, that the kiss he had allowed her to take and the swift kiss they had shared in the doorframe of her room—hadn't been a mistake…

I love you…

"And yet you said I was worried."

"Were you?" He was so close; she could see every detail of his jade eyes. She could feel his tousled hair tickle her forehead. Her body, tense with the bitter cold rain, was strangely relaxed now. She heard a thunderclap in the distance. The emerald orbs were half-lidded, pupils nearly round in the pale luminescent light. They did not appear cold and calculating, but limitless and deep.

It would be so easy to forget his loyalties, she mused, so easy to wash away his faults, and believe them to have never been. He was so close, that these things almost seemed invisible; if she closed her eyes, she could pretend that they weren't there.

She could all but taste his frosty breath on her lips. Her own breath was held, her heart hammering, and her question forgotten…

Something tugged softly at her scalp; his fingers were sliding through her hair, and she gasped, remembering how lethal his hands could be. He had killed another Hollow with those same hands, but in an effort to save her. She felt his cheek brush against hers; his skin as soft as she had thought it was all those days ago when she watched him in the candlelight.

"What if I said 'yes'?" he breathed in her ear.

"Why don't you just tell me if you were?" she whispered, not even bothering to try to suppress the tremor in her voice. "Why do you have to lie?"

She shivered as he laid his hand gently at the top of her neck. In the cold of the rain drenching them both, it was warm and firm. She felt his head shift against her, and gasped as his lips grazed her jaw line, moved slowly along it. Her breath stilled. It was enough, she thought frantically—more than enough—but he did not stop. She felt him kiss her neck, so lightly that it could have been a passing breeze. He wrapped his arms around her, slowly lifted his head to caress her cheek.

"I have never lied to you," she heard his quiet voice, unemotional and calculating as always. He tilted his head in closely, his eyes closing. For a half-instant, Orihime studied him—the deep tearstains that marred his stark white visage, rendered it melancholic and sad; the soft line of his mouth, peacefully expressionless; his beautiful eyes closed as if sleeping… and to her own astonishment, found herself leaning forward as well.

All right, I'll believe you…

She felt his kiss, soft and cool, like the feel of sakura blossoms or rain around her. It was so hesitant at first, but with growing confidence deepened, wonderful and sweet. It dawned on her, inexplicably, that she wanted it to last. She wrapped her arms around his neck, felt both silken hair and smooth half-mask beneath her searching fingers. His body tensed at the contact, as if in surprise, but then relaxed as he drew her closer…

Why does it feel like I'm saying goodbye?

Too soon, the embrace was broken; she opened her eyes as their breaths intermingled, the memory of the first time she had looked so closely into his own orbs clear. She remembered thinking she could drown in them. Her mouth formed a half-smile. Was this what it felt like? Her arms still lay around his neck, and as always, he wore a cold expression; but Orihime saw it as soft and sad. She had learned to read him at last, or perhaps only because he was so close to her. His face was so frozen, it left so much to the imagination… but she was pleased to see that he wasn't frowning.

Somewhere inside the walls of a castle far away, Ichigo was trying to find her. He might even be fighting a great army of Hollows now, just to save her. He would be there so soon—Aizen was adjusting his plans to account for it. This was wrong—hadn't the scare with Kuchiki-san been proof of that? Everyone was in danger, not only because of the one standing before her, but because of her own actions as well—she had tried to escape once, but he had come back for her. She hadn't tried a second time.

Has it really taken so little time for you to forget?

She turned her head away suddenly, denying him—and herself as well. Her arms fell to her sides slowly, her blue-gray eyes apologetic. She pulled away, but her heart leaped, because he refused to release her. And yet her eyes were filling with tears.

Where has your resolve gone?

After a moment's pause, his arms loosened around her. His face was a mask of puzzlement, and Orihime remembered that she had once thought it was only a mask. The doubt seemed so foolish now; she had learned better of him.

She moved away, walking towards the still dark waters of the pond, tried to see beyond the trees and rain, and caught a glimpse of the storm calming far away. She brought her fingers to her lips, still softened with the embrace. The raindrops spattered as they hit the water, each one striking an echo of its presence on the surface.

He walked behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder, as if by way of comfort, and the human girl took it and placed it idly in her palm where it lay limp and pale. She looked at him, her expression as wistful as she had seen his own. But only now did she understand what it really meant.

I'm going to miss you…

As if by silent consent he opened a portal between them. It was time to leave.

Orihime had expected them to go back to Aizen's throne room, but instead, the pallid Arrancar led her to the entrance of a small chamber off the main course of the labyrinth. She had changed into another—dry—Arrancar uniform, the strands of her hair still damp from that morning's venture. The journey was silent save for their padding footsteps; and the human girl felt the sickening sensation of apprehension and dread, not assuaged by the numerous glances Ulquiorra kept throwing her. On top of it all, she could keenly sense Ichigo's presence somewhere nearby—she looked around, expecting him to pop up around every corner. It would only make things worse in her mind, Ulquiorra and Ichigo facing off while she had to watch—she shuddered; it was a nightmare scenario.

Again, she felt Aizen's reiatsu before actually seeing the man himself; dampened for her sake. He greeted her warmly at the entrance, his face pleasant enough, but his eyes as cold and sharp as she remembered them to be. Orihime took one last look at Ulquiorra standing in the doorframe before walking inside; she was glad when the shinigami didn't send him away. But then, she remembered the two Arrancar in the red forest, and supposed he might be observing the fourth Espada as well. She shifted uncomfortably at the notion.

"Welcome Orihime Inoue," he said quietly, his mouth forming a smile. It struck her how different the expression was from anyone else's that she knew—while it appeared honest, it was only another means to deceive her into thinking he was friendly and kind. This was the same man who she and the fourth Espada both knew wouldn't hesitate to kill her when he deemed her 'of no further use'. "Ulquiorra tells me that we may have need of you once all of this is finished—'for your healing abilities', I believe is how he put it. You sympathize with our cause then?"

The question completely surprised Orihime—she hadn't been expecting it at all. But what should she answer? If she said 'no', then he might kill her as soon as her services were complete, and Ulquiorra might be in trouble too, she thought—Aizen would realize why he had suggested anything in the first place. But if she said 'yes', it would seem suspicious as well. What human would sympathize with the very beings that fed upon them?

"Only with the people who are injured," she replied in a sudden flash of inspiration. "I simply noticed you didn't really have a place where they could be healed."

Waugh! What am I doing?

But Aizen's charming grin only widened.

"Good answer," the shinigami chuckled, as if he could see the redhead's thoughts written all over her face. "But I am afraid it's a little off the mark. Your abilities are not those of a healer—despite, I am sure, what you have used them for up until now. Ulquiorra saw them as a sort of temporal displacement—'time reversal' if you will. But while his observation was closer, it still didn't quite ring true. The difference could be seen more readily in your use of shields and barriers." He paused and waved his hand in an elegant motion. Orihime, realizing she had been giving rapt attention to the shinigami's words, followed his cold gaze to the floor between them. A small cylinder was rising out of the floor slowly and silently; Aizen resumed his speech as it continued to move upwards.

"You have the unique ability to reject events that have happened in the past," he continued. "You can take any object—or person—and by using your powers completely reverse anything that happened to it." Orihime stared, disbelieving. If his words were true, she could use her powers for far more than just healing. But how far could she go with them…?

"And now we come to the real reason I have brought you here," Aizen interrupted her reverie, his charmingly silky voice calm. "You remember the quest you and your comrades ventured into to save a friend—and of course, how it all ended." Orihime nodded slowly, unsure of what he was getting at, but certain that it must have some connection to the 'Orb of Distortion' she had heard Ulquiorra mention…

The cylinder's top was beginning to divide itself, each section a disk spiraling outwards away from the main body. The human girl peered over it just as the last disk uncovered a compartment inside. Within it sat a small glowing sphere, and even though it looked innocent and humble compared with some of the other things she had seen in Hueco Mundo, Orihime could sense great power sleeping within its depths.

"This is the Hogyoku," she heard Aizen's voice. "Kisuke Urahara's invention he so feared that he hid it in a place he believed no one would suspect—but he was a fool." Aizen wasn't smiling now, Orihime noted. The change in his demeanor was horrifyingly drastic. The flimsy mask of charm was gone, his eyes burning like frigid fire, and his massive spiritual pressure threatening to spill over. Orihime stepped backwards, fearfully searching for Ulquiorra's presence—he was there, his own aura of reiatsu tense and thick, as if ready to strike. Orihime had to tell herself not to turn around and give him a warning glance. Would he really defend her against his own master?

"It is deteriorating," the shinigami's voice continued. The human girl looked at him again, the shadow of a smile returning to his features. "I have used it in order to advance the powers of my Hollows, but as it is dormant now, these uses have weakened it considerably. The service I require from you, Orihime Inoue, is simply to restore it to its original, undamaged state." She stared at him, her face still pallid with fear. But she tried to keep herself impassive all the same.

Aizen-sama does not tolerate weakness…

"Can you do this for me when the time comes?"

"Yes, Aizen-sama," she said, this time searching for her friends' presences. They would be here soon—she had very little time to wait now. But, she realized as she looked into Aizen's countenance, surely the shinigami knew that—they were walking into a trap, she realized. How would they ever find their way out in the end?

Unless…

The walk back to her room was silent, as she thought about the information Aizen had given her not only about her powers, but about the Hogyoku as well. Most of all, she thought about Ulquiorra, and what he would do once Ichigo and the others finally came—what she would ask him to do. But… surely he, an Arrancar, wouldn't dare…?

With her friends so close did it matter? Hesitation at this point was something she knew she couldn't afford. If nothing else, the scare with Kuchiki-san had taught her that her situation was dangerous, and incredibly real, despite what she knew she felt towards the Espada. And—when at last she did leave Hueco Mundo, she desperately wanted him to come with her. To see him on the opposing side, knowing that she and her friends would have to fight him—it was something she didn't think she could bear.

They walked inside together, and Orihime stood in the center of her room, while Ulquiorra simply watched her.

"They'll be here soon," she said, not knowing where to begin. The words tumbled from her lips now, unchecked by her doubts or fears. He wouldn't leave her alone if she said them now—he would listen instead. Ulquiorra closed his eyes in acknowledgement, but said nothing. The bright radiance of that morning was giving way to quiet afternoon, though the sky still shone blue outside.

"I was wondering…" she said nervously. "I really wish you would come with me—when—when we go…"

"You believe they will succeed."

Orihime gawked at him, stricken and disbelieving.

"Why shouldn't I?" she asked, her voice rising. "They've made it this far—"

"Now that they are entrapped within the castle, they are at their most vulnerable," Ulquiorra interrupted quietly. "They have disbanded in an effort to find you, but at a cost. Every battle that they fight only further weakens each one of them." Orihime stared at him, at a loss for words. To hear her own fears echoed by the Espada, described so coldly, sent a wave of nausea through her; but he continued nonetheless.

"There are many of us," he said, "and Las Noches is a maze for those who are not familiar with it. There is little hope that they will even make it to this section of the castle." Orihime clenched her fists, the sick feeling swiftly being replaced by anger—Ulquiorra was telling her all of this the same way he told her everything else. As if it were a fact; he was absolutely certain of it, and that was the final word. Nothing else mattered.

"You don't even know them—!" She had wanted him to come too… but it seemed that he had full faith that Aizen's plan would work. That they would be trapped here, and Ichigo and the others would never make it to even see her. But he didn't know how determined they could be; Ichigo was just as sure of himself as Ulquiorra was—he was certain that he would find her, just as Ulquiorra was certain beyond any shadow of doubt that he would not.

"Your friends will die, Orihime."

Orihime had had enough. She walked quickly forward, furious, her fists clenched; she stopped in front of him, glaring into those cold eyes, angry for the first time in many days. Then she raised a hand and slapped him hard across his cheek, still staring defiantly into his pale face when his eyes turned back to look at her.

Her palm still burned from the impact.

He seemed confused now, but Orihime was absolutely sure that he would see—along with everyone else in Las Noches.

And when she asked him to come with her a second time, he would not refuse.

Ulquiorra stared into the human girl's angry face for what seemed like an eternity. She had flipped from meek to angry in an instant, leaving him to try to figure out why. He had only been stating facts—her comrades would not make it far enough to get to her. Aizen's plan would succeed; everyone had taken precautions to see that it would. The ryoka and the others were trapped here, as was Orihime. They could not save her—it was an impossibility… why could she not see that?

His statements had made her angry.

He felt an uncomfortable sensation somewhere along his midsection; guilt, though he did not know why he should feel that way.

But it wasn't about this current situation, he realized. She had refused his offer to stay with him and remain useful to Aizen-sama—to be safe. He knew that his master would not hesitate to kill her once she had finished her services. Therefore, he should be helping her to escape… but it would go against the orders he had been given, and his master's wishes. And if they were to come soon, he reasoned, she had not restored the Hogyoku yet. He couldn't just let her go—

Moreover, he didn't want to let her go.

She was important.

What if they did succeed in rescuing her, and were found later? They would be found eventually—because…

Aizen-sama had sealed off their escape routes.

If she was found with them, he might kill them all, even if Orihime was still useful to him. Aizen-sama would find another way to restore the Orb of Distortion. Ulquiorra closed his eyes—Aizen-sama always found a way.

Even if he did allow her to escape, she would be killed when Aizen-sama made his new world. She would fight alongside her comrades, and pay the price of allying herself with the Soul Society. Furthermore, the Soul Society considered her a traitor. He himself had made absolutely certain that they believed it to be true. How did he know she wouldn't be tried for treason and sentenced to death the moment she set foot on their grounds?

He didn't.

So there was one clear course of action.

Ulquiorra left her standing there, falling into the shadows of the labyrinth as her door closed and sealed behind him.

Ichigo Kurosaki was lost.

He'd taken a wrong turn somewhere, and instead of meandering his way further inside the castle, had come up nearing the outside instead. It was a large columned room, ending in another set of entrances and one long stairway, ending in a small door. It was still around midday—a bright shaft of light from outside cascaded down the steps, throwing them into relief. The place was eerie; he kept feeling that he was being watched. His sole companion, a small Arrancar by the name of Nel seated squarely on his shoulders, was quiet, obviously feeling unrest.

"Maybe we s'ood turn backs, Itsygo," she whimpered, her usual small babyish voice in her ear.

Backtrack? No way.

Ichigo stopped, trying to decide where to turn, just when he sensed a spiritual pressure above—coming from the direction of the stairs. Both Nel and the shinigami looked towards the shaft of pale light above them, now broken with the silhouette of a slim figure. The man descended the steps, slowly revealing his pallor, matching that of the light outside. But his eyes blazed a cold, crystalline emerald, tearstains below and black hair moving in the breeze coming from the door. His half-mask obscured one side of his face, but the eye cast in shadow gleamed demonically nonetheless. He walked down the stairs as if he were a prince, yet there was a smoothness in his gait that betrayed his power.

He was familiar.

It was he who had stopped Grimmjow from killing him weeks earlier. The shinigami put Nel on the ground, where she scuttled away to hide—he had no quarrel with this Arrancar, but that didn't mean that the Arrancar had no quarrel with him.

The Arrancar took his time descending the steps, observing Ichigo as one would an interesting new species—but his gaze was full of murderous intent, as if he believed the two of them had been enemies all their lives. Ichigo adjusted Zangetsu on his back, the knife-like blade, as always, ready for the challenge. At the back of his mind, Hichigo stirred. The pale man stepped quietly from the staircase, his cold eyes never leaving those of the shinigami. Ichigo stood still as he walked silently past, and came to rest directly in the path that the shinigami had been planning to take.

Ichigo watched him, dumbfounded, for several moments.

"Why do you not draw your blade, shinigami?" the whitewashed Hollow asked silkily, his deep voice casting no echoes in the vast columned room. "I am in the way of your destination." Ichigo looked at him curiously for a moment—why was this Arrancar so obviously baiting him? His eyes saw the green-bound hilt of a zanpakouto resting at the Hollow's side.

He didn't have time for this.

Ichigo brushed past the green-eyed Arrancar, suppressing an involuntary shiver when he sensed the man's icy reiatsu. The Hollow didn't move, but Ichigo could feel his green eyes follow him as he walked near.

"I don't have any reason to fight you," said Ichigo, stopping to meet his gaze. He decided it wouldn't be wise to not answer his question. The Hollow's spiritual pressure was worrisome. Ichigo walked on, motioning to Nel to stay in the shadow of the staircase where she was hiding.

"That is very interesting," the deep silky voice replied, and the shinigami stopped and turned around; back towards the sinuous Arrancar, who stood lazily with his hands in his pockets, his back turned towards Ichigo as if the Soul Reaper were absolutely no threat whatsoever.

Ichigo's eyes narrowed—he had no fight with this Arrancar, but that didn't mean he had to like the man.

Who exactly was this guy?

Goes by 'Ulquiorra', remarked Hichigo with an anticipatory sneer.

Ulquiorra turned his head slowly, and Ichigo caught the profile of his tearstained face, his wicked eyes hidden behind a mask of ebony hair.

"What if I told you, then, that I was the one who forced Orihime Inoue to come to Hueco Mundo?" he asked, his tone sprinkled with the merest hint of satisfaction. The shinigami stiffened as the Arrancar's tongue slid easily over the human girl's name. Ichigo's blood boiled. Without hesitation, the shinigami flew at the pale man, Zangetsu thrown in a wide swing, intent on cleaving Ulquiorra in two.

But the blade was halted almost immediately.

Ulquiorra had blocked it with his bare hand.

"I knew it," growled Ichigo, struggling to do some damage—but it was like trying to cut into steel. "I knew you people kidnapped her—why would she come here otherwise?" There was a pause, and Ichigo thought he saw the shadow of a smirk cross his opponent's waxen features.

"I see," Ulquiorra replied. "You came to rescue her even though you were unsure of her intentions. That is very interesting indeed."

With a swift flick of his wrist, the Hollow twisted Zangetsu around, and Ichigo had to tighten his grip to keep the blade in his hands.

Orihime threw herself at the door again and again, but it would not budge. She sensed the two of them—Ulquiorra and Ichigo nearby. Each shift in spiritual pressure sent her into waves of panic. They were fighting; both of them were dueling at that very moment. She had to stop them; but why had Ulquiorra suddenly decided to go after Ichigo?

To prove his point?

She pushed at the closed door furiously, pulled at it in either direction, but finally slid against it, on the verge of tears. She should have escaped—why hadn't she seen this coming? Hollows like Ulquiorra lied for their own interests; broke promises that they might have made. And yet despite everything, she couldn't bring herself to think of him the same way she thought of the others. She sensed anxiously the battle far away, Ichigo's bankai suddenly raging. But Ulquiorra's spiritual pressure held fast all the same—he was so strong…

And then the two of them were too far away to be decipherable anymore. Orihime rose miserably, and pressed her back against the cold marble wall, trying to think of anything else to keep herself from being worried sick.

What was it that Aizen had said?

The Hogyoku…

If she used her powers to restore the Orb, she would do as Aizen asked. But her powers could be used to erase events that had happened in the past. So, she thought, wouldn't it be possible to erase the creation of the object altogether? Urahara-san had made the Orb—so Orihime could unmake it if she so desired.

Orihime played with the folds of her Arrancar uniform, and studied the blank shadowed gray of the opposing wall.

What would happen after that?

All of the events following its use—might be erased too. Everything Aizen or anyone else had done with the Orb since its creation wouldn't have ever happened. But that meant that the Hollows—all of them that had been turned by the Orb—would revert back to their previous states. All of the Arrancar that were adjuchas-class would revert to adjuchas-class Menos Grande. It meant that all of the Espada wouldn't be Espada anymore.

And…

"Ulquiorra," she murmured, horrorstruck. But if she didn't do something, Aizen would have his war—and everyone—her friends included—would have to fight it. Orihime clenched her eyes shut. She didn't have a choice, then.

Did she?

She heard a rustling noise at her door.

"Ulqui-" she began, but the portal was already sliding open, the binding spell set upon it lifted. Two pairs of eyes stared at her from the depths of the dark hallway, the voices that belonged to each of their owners singsong and malicious.

"Orihime-chan…"

The human girl gasped; Ulquiorra had stayed away too long.

In a matter of moments the room had been all but destroyed. The ryoka had been stronger than the Arrancar had believed him to be—but he was by no means invincible. As Ulquiorra had anticipated, his taunts had finally goaded the shinigami into action, and had made him reckless. His attacks were irritatingly powerful, but most were wild and inaccurate. If they hadn't been such wide swaths of energy, the shinigami would have missed the Espada on numerous occasions.

It was time to end this—it wouldn't be wise to leave Orihime alone for any extended period of time. He knew better than anyone else that the inhabitants of the castle were not happy about her presence there. It was his, Ulquiorra's, nearly constant presence that kept the others at bay.

The ryoka leaped for an opening in the wall, perhaps in a mad attempt at escape, or perhaps only to rest for a moment or so. But Ulquiorra wasn't one to allow him that luxury. Time was of the essence.

He appeared in a blur beside the shinigami, whose astonished gaze met his in an instant, and then moved down to observe the orb of viridian Cero the Espada held in his palm; just before Ulquiorra released it at point-blank range.

The shinigami flew back, crashing into an opposing tower far away. The Espada was there in an instant, just as the ryoka was pulling himself forcefully from the debris. Then, oddly enough, the shinigami began to laugh quietly. Ulquiorra felt an uncomfortable sensation over the tattoo just underneath his torn surcoat. The tip of a sleek black blade was pressed against his chest, though it trembled with the shinigami's effort to keep it placed there.

The ryoka looked up, his face fearless and arrogant.

"I guess you've got to be Aizen's most powerful, huh?" he asked, grinning. "So if I just take you out right now, it'll be a major blow to his little army, won't it?" Ulquiorra blinked once, his pale hand taking the slim edge of the obsidian sword and pushing it aside. The coat tore with its passage, revealing the ebony number four emblazoned in the Espada's stark white skin. His green eyes gleamed with satisfaction at the look of fading hope on the ryoka's battered countenance.

"Even if you were to somehow get past me, shinigami," Ulquiorra began quietly, "there are three others more powerful than myself lurking these halls." The Espada felt the Soul Reaper's tight grip begin to loosen at the hilt of his sword, but Ulquiorra held it steady at its tip. "But you do not have the capacity to best me, so it makes little difference."

Ulquiorra's other hand tautened, his fingers forming a deadly sharp point, but there was a moment of hesitation as the Espada remembered a time and place that had only a few seconds ago seemed so far away. He remembered the calm confidence in her sparkling blue-gray eyes as she spoke his name; he had taken a step back, though there was no reason to. He had promised her—but it was such a foolish pact. Why even consider it now?

I don't want any of my friends to die…

Then she had smiled at him.

The Espada struck; and as his grim resolve faltered, he all but grimaced to see the wounded shinigami faint in front of him while he withdrew. But the ryoka was alive all the same—it had been a calculated miss. Ulquiorra blinked down at his fallen foe, deciding that he was a complete fool, and that he would probably regret the decision later. Yet he knew it didn't matter. The alternative was unacceptable.

He turned away, pausing to address the shinigami one last time.

"Turn back the way you came," he murmured, "or die here. The choice is yours to make."

And with that, the Espada vanished again. It was time to go back to her.

Yay! I don't own Bleach.

Next chappie coming soon - this one came out so late because the next one was just so much fun to write...

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