A/N: Thanks for the reviews and favourites! Here's the second Chapter. Suggestions, etc. are always welcome of course. Also, the POV has been altered somewhat. Ichigo's perspective is going to be in first person now, so I've altered the first chapter to reflect that. So without further ado:

Chapter 2: Nothingness

First there was nothing.

The figure lay still as a body in a coffin. Breathing, barely. A finger twitched here. An eyelid there. His clothes were torn and bloody, only barely concealing the crippling bruises and lacerations covering his torso. The flow of blood had slowed somewhat in the past hours, and the wounds he had sustained were caked in black blood. He was pale. A ghost, even.

And then there was light.

Blinding, overpowering white light coming from everywhere, nowhere, all at once, an unstoppable force, an insurmountable multitude. And I came tumbling from my slumber. My head shot up from the concrete floor on which I had been lying. I cringed away from the source, unable to fully lift my shackled and broken arm to shield seemingly paper-thin eyelids. I wished the light would go away. So much time in the dark.

And then it died down—not fully absent, but diminished. The door, I realized, still half-caught in my pain-induced haze which had kept me under for so long. A figure. Standing, to my right. My eyes managed to adjust to the slit of light spilling from the doorway. Slowly I took in my surroundings: A small, ten by ten foot concrete enclosure, stained a dark brown colour from a substance I did not care to identify. No windows. Only the door the figure was now standing beside. All, I thought, so different from the meticulously-tidy white interiors of Las Noches. My ears rang as the figure spoke.

"Kurosaki Ichigo."

I cleared my throat, accidentally choking on the dried blood which had accumulated there. I broke down coughing, squeezing my eyes as four of my ribs creaked in protest. Broken, then. "Aizen," I rasped. God, I was so pathetic. Lying on the floor before my most hated enemy broken and bloody, and I could barely speak for the effort it cost me even to clear my throat.

"I suppose you are wondering why I let you live."

Yes. You could have had Ulquiorra kill me up on the roof. You should have. You killed my friends and ruined my home, and then granted me mercy. I deserve to die like the weakling I am.

With a substantial effort, I push the thought aside. The corner of my mouth twitched. "Enough about me. What about you?"

"Me?" In a movement I could barely discern in the dimly-lit room, Aizen shifted.

"I've always believed it's better to keep the focus off of oneself on the first date. It seems a bit rude." I rolled onto my stomach, attempting to get my knees under me. "No more innocents to kill? Filled your—" my chest screamed as I slowly brought myself to my knees. "—your daily quota?"

Aizen laughed cruelly. "Kurosaki Ichigo, you can barely kneel without having to catch your breath. Personally," he continued conversationally, "I would conserve my strength for what is ahead. Soon you will find such bantering is a luxury you will be unable to sustain."

"Yeah, well," I said, "at least I have one thing you don't."

"Oh?" The former captain smiled condescendingly. "And what's that?"

Knowing I would pay for it later, I grinned. "A killer bod and a winning smile."

The door opened again, but this time the light was manageable. Two men, presumably the guards who had been standing outside the doorway, entered. Gesturing for them to continue, Aizen murmured ominously, "I'm sure that will change before long."

I didn't see the needle until it was imbedded in my calf. By then, I was already floating downward through a sea of black, my vision receding as I sunk deeper, deeper...

And then there was nothing.

Renji Abari had taken his fair share of beatings. He had been through his share of battles and skirmishes, and each time where he had won he had come through knowing that he deserved his victory. But looking out at the carnage before him, he couldn't help but wonder, why was it that he was spared? So many of his friends had perished in the fight, but he had been left behind. It was the first time in the Lieutenant's life that he had ever questioned a victory.

But they had won the battle, right? He guessed that was something. When Aizen had withdrawn prematurely with his top three espada in tow, everyone had been shocked. The Soul Society, diminished and flagging, had been left with no choice but to lick its wounds and prepare for the next cycle.

They hadn't yet been able to muster a full tally of the dead and wounded. Bodies were still being transported from the fake Karakura town and to Squad Four barracks. There were barely enough beds. Medics were collapsing from exhaustion. The sheer scale of the damage was staggering.

Renji himself hadn't sustained too many injuries. After his battle with that creepy espada scientist dude, Renji had been transported by Urahara to the main fighting theatre, where he had been paired off with one of the secondary arrancars. A snapped pinkie, a cut on his shoulder, and a black eye were the worst of the injuries he had been left with. In short, he was one of the lucky ones.

He had tried to aid the Squad Four members in healing the weak, but had soon been turned away on the account that 1) he knew nothing of healing and 2) it was already too crowded to make room for those without injury.

So the red-haired shinigami had wandered away, meandering aimlessly through the barracks and offices lining the streets. Somewhere along the way Byakuya found him and ordered him to rest. Renji didn't know why he had bothered. Nevertheless, he was too tired to argue. Grumbling to himself, he headed toward his rooms.

And that's when Orihime showed up.

Poor ol' Ichigo. Illegitimi non carborundum!

TBC