Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or its characters. I am merely borrowing a couple of poor souls to thoroughly batter and bludgeon in a world of my own making. Yohlis and all that resides within it are mine, so please don't steal them, kay?

Authoress' Note:Okay, so it's been some time since I updated this little piece. A few months. I have no excuse except that work has been non-stop and my free time was spent speed-playing Tales of Xillia so that I could play the second one the moment it was released. Which I did. To death, in fact. I love Alvin. And Gaius. He's awesome *grins*. So yeah, blame Xillia and it's most evile sequel for monopolising my time. Oh, and in recent days it's been Hyrule Warriors, too, because my sister needed aid in gaining weapons for people. Anywho, here is the third chapter and I hope it's alright. They'll finally DO something next chapter, but for now, put up with this part...

Resonating Souls

Chapter Three: Changes

She was wet. That was the first thing Orihime Inoue knew with her waking mind. Did I fall asleep in the bath again? The second thing she knew was that her limbs felt heavy and ached all over. And was something squashing her? Definitely not the bath! But then where..? She hastily blinked the fuzziness from her vision and took in her situation for the first time: she was lying sprawled on her stomach atop a black-haired person, whose face was currently buried in three inches of sopping wet dirt; rain was hammering down from the heavens, as though somebody forgot to turn off the shower during a 'burst-spray', so that explained the wetness; there were unfamiliar mountains and charred houses directly in her field of vision – guess we're not in Kansas anymore, eh Toto? Not that I was in Kansas before, or that I've even been to Kansas. I wonder if this is Kansas… - as well as a larger grouping of buildings farther on the horizon, their specks fairly difficult to make out in the pouring rain.

Orihime lifted her head a little and peered over her shoulder, for even though she had just seen all of these strange and frankly bizarre things, one question still plagued her mind – who is lying on my back? Her eyes sought out an answer and locked onto the very unconscious form of her would-be kidnapper, the Arrancar that had stubbornly latched onto her wrist as she was being abducted. His white clothes were soaked through and mud had splattered pieces of the material, so that it was no longer as pristine as when he appeared before her in the Dangai. He was fairly heavy, but being effectively dead-weight could make anyone a great big lump rather than light as a pillow. Perhaps the most pertinent problem though wasn't the weight, nor that he had Inoue pinned in place with his body. It was that his face rested dangerously close to her own.

Her skin suddenly clashed horrendously with her carrot-toned hair, having flushed a brilliant shade of scarlet in her embarrassment. She had never had a boy – let alone a teenager or a man – in such close proximity before. Certainly not close enough that she could feel his warm breath on her cheek, or marvel at how young he looked as he slept – I didn't know Arrancars needed to sleep. Looking harder now, Orihime noticed some oddities that weren't there before they'd both been whisked away. He's not as pale as he was. Well, he's still pale, but now he doesn't look like a vampire from out of those horror films. And he's missing something else too… She looked at his hair and realised that his clunky and frankly obstructive Hollow half-helm that had covered the left part of his head – and much of his raven locks too – was gone. Its absence made it much easier for Inoue to get a clearer picture of his face, for when one looked at the cold Arrancar before, you could not help being drawn to the partial mask that had stood out so sharply on his head.

He looks so different now. He looks…human.

So busy was she in analysing these changes, she didn't notice the body underneath her own begin to wriggle around, arms and legs attempting to find a grip so they could free their owner from beneath the two-person dog pile. She did notice when the wriggling transformed into flailing and scrambling, for the boy at the bottom of the muddy mess still had his face firmly planted in the ground, and oxygen is a must for all living beings that produce CO2.

Oh no, he can't breathe! Inoue tried to wriggle free of the load above her, so that the boy below her could move away from the pile, but her efforts were in vain. Her body still ached from the fall – possibly the freaky light too – her clothes were heavy from the rain water and the Arrancar was just too heavy to shift on her own. What do I do? What can I do? The arms and legs underneath her were becoming more frantic, but it wouldn't be long before they slowed and then finally stopped.

The high-schooler knew she was running out of time, but there wasn't anything she could do. Not unless the man above woke up and moved himself. Yet his eyes were still tightly closed and waking didn't look to be on the table for a while. There was only one thing Orihime could try. It was the same thing her older brother, Sora, used to do to her when she nearly overslept in the mornings before school. It was also something that Tatsuki would do when the orange-haired girl fell asleep in history.

Please don't attack me.

Raising her free left-hand, Inoue put her little pinky finger into her mouth, licked it to wet it, and then shoved it into the pale man's closest ear. The effect was instantaneous: emerald eyes flew open in shock, and probably disgust too, and his body jerked as far from Orihime's as possible. He landed in a muddy puddle some two feet from the tangled body pile, allowing the girl to roll away from her accidental victim before he drowned to death. Just in time too, because the young man pushed his mud-soaked face from the shallow puddle-slash-almost murder weapon, and gulped down as much fresh air into his lungs as he could manage.

Forgetting the Arrancar for the moment, Orihime drew closer to the spluttering boy and gently patted his back, both to try and soothe his pain and soothe her own guilt too. It was, after all, her body squishing the unfortunate youth into the puddle. If not for Inoue, he would not have been in that situation. It wasn't just me though, she hesitated to remember, it was also his fault that the boy was almost a pancake. She flicked her steel-grey eyes past the young man and settled them on the fuming figure in muddied-white who still sat in a half-crouch some two-feet from the pair. His serpentine gaze had narrowed and she just knew that if he had the power to kill with his eyes – I'm glad he isn't a robot after all – she would have been incinerated at least a thousand times already.

Her gaze returned once more to the now calmer boy as he rasped out, "Just w-who are…you people?" He met Orihime's eyes with his own and she drew backwards in surprise when she saw that he had odd eyes, just like from her recurring dreams – the left a deep ruby-red and the right a frosty grey, paler than her own two.

"Um…my name is Orihime. Inoue Orihime." She gave the young man her brightest smile, even as she felt that it wasn't quite as cheerful as it could have been because her thoughts were still fixated on the eyes that were the same as the dead boy's eyes from her dreams.

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer, and looked over his shoulder at the tense Arrancar, "And what's your name, eh?"

Orihime worried that the boy would soon find himself missing appendages or something of the sort, with how hostile a glare the sable-haired Arrancar was sending his way, but eventually those piercing eyes closed and he replied in his usual monotone, "Who I am is none of your business, trash. We will not be here long enough for it to matter."

Something was definitely wrong with Ulquiorra. He felt heavy and sluggish. Almost as though his body was not his own. And he could not sense any spiritual presences anywhere, even though the woman was crouched on the dirty floor barely two-feet from his person. His final clue that something untoward had befallen him was the peculiar feeling of wind blowing through all of his locks, not just the right side as was normal.

He gradually forced his legs to rise and push his body up from the ground, making a quick note that he'd need to get his clothing cleaned – or burned and replaced – and raised his right-hand up in a swiping gesture with the intent to create a Garganta. Nothing happened. He tried again, putting all of his thought into leaving this place and returning to Las Noches, but still no tear in the air appeared.

What is going on here?

Ulquiorra closed his eyes and tried to find the spark that his powers originated from. He delved down, into the core of his being, to the very heart of his essence- And was forcibly shoved back to the surface of his awareness by a barrier of some sort. It was there, his power, but too far beyond his grasp that no amount of prodding was going to give it up. Something had been blocking the way, but Ulquiorra dare not test whatever it was, for just that small probing had very nearly stolen all of the energy he had at his disposal, leaving him drained and exhausted. He reached a hand up to clutch at his chest, feeling a tightness there that wasn't there before, and stopped short as soon as he realised that his heart was beating. How can this be? He pressed his hand to his chest in puzzlement, and then moved it slightly up to where his hole ought to be. Instead of a deep gap, there was now a completely filled space of flesh and blood and…weakness. I've been made mortal. Human. Weak.

It was no wonder then, that he felt such unbearable fatigue and ached in ways he had never before. He slid his hand further up, right to the crown on his head, and when it touched only damp hair he let it fall entirely back to his side. No hole and no mask. He had nothing that defined him as a Hollow or an Arrancar. He was in every conceivable way a human.

I cannot serve Aizen-sama if I can no longer access my powers. What use am I now? What purpose have I?

A timid voice filtered through his thoughts, and he glanced blankly at the young woman, "Hey, are alright?" She was scared to upset or aggravate him, it was plain enough for Ulquiorra to see, but he couldn't have cared either way.

"How did you do this, woman? What sorcery did you use to achieve this trick?"

The weakened Arrancar slowly advanced towards the confused fiery-haired girl, raising his fist as he did so without realising, his anger finally taking hold of reason. She cowered away from him, using the strange boy as an unsuspecting shield, even as she raised her hands to her head. Ulquiorra didn't care if she unleashed all of her powers on him at once; he just wanted to hit something – anything.

"Don't come any closer," she squealed, right before incanting, "Santen Kesshun, I reject!"

The fourth Espada drew short of the girl and the boy, fully expecting a triangular shield of pure energy to spring up between he and the crouching pair, but when nothing happened he took a good long look at the girl's hair. Her clips – the very source of her power, as he'd observed before – were missing from her head. She appeared just as shocked as he did that she couldn't use her otherworldly abilities.

"W-what? Hinagiku? Baigon? Lily?" Nothing appeared, even when she tried to entreat to her other celestial fairies, "Shunô! Ayame! Please come out!" Tears started to form in her eyes, not that Ulquiorra cared. She could break down all she wanted, he would never be moved. Her hands fell listlessly from her head and defeat weighed heavily on her face. One final name sprang from her lips before she gave in to her tears, "Tsubaki, please come out! Where did you all go?"

The boy who had sat silently whilst this was occurring finally spoke up, his voice changing pitch now and then to betray his young age to the Espada, "He-ey Orihime, what's the matter? Who's gone?" He placed a shaking hand on the weeping woman's back and pet her like one might pet a cat – these humans are such pitiful creatures.

"My friends have gone! I can't do anything to help Kurosaki-kun now! I'm useless. I've always been useless…"

Ulquiorra could see that the boy did not comprehend what was wrong, but he couldn't care less about his pathetic confusion. Because oddly, his anger and need to hurt something had all but vanished in the face of the girl's despair. He didn't know how or why it had happened, but at least he was once more able to think and rationalise things again.

He flicked his eyes over the landscape, noticing that it was nearing nightfall in this land and that there were smoke clouds drifting up into the sky from where fires had previously been raging. Charred ruins of a house and what could have been a barn or stables were the closest of the ruined buildings. More smoking husks of houses were further into the distance and beyond those lay large mountains and some tall trees clustered together. The rain, which had clearly been falling for some time judging by the amount of precipitation, had ceased at long last. The air was damp and reeked of death. There were corpses of what Ulquiorra assumed to be men and women littered across the sodden once-fields and some of the figures looked to be wearing strange black armour with red markings. It looked medieval in design, like something one might see in Arthurian novels and films, although the green-eyed man couldn't say that he'd seen too many of those in his lifetime.

We must have travelled a very long way, to find such strangely dressed people.

He looked back to the huddled duo - having noted that the woman's crying had finally petered out into weak sniffles - and addressed the boy, "What is this place called?"

The boy looked at him with his multi-coloured eyes, alarmed that Ulquiorra had actually spoken no doubt, but eventually replied, "It's Farris village, in Farreana. Surely you knew that?"

Ulquiorra placed his hands into his drenched pockets and assumed his usual stance of aloofness, before he continued his line of questioning, "And where is Farreana located?"

One of the boy's black eyebrows rose in question, "Are you for real? Just where are you two from?"

"Just answer the question, boy."

"Hey, you don't look much older than me you know…"

Cat-like emerald eyes narrowed to slits and glared hard at the other boy.

"Fine, Yohlis! This is the continent of Yohlis. We're smack bang in the middle of this huge land, actually. Does that satisfy you now?"

"Yes."

We are definitely far from our own world. The only question remains: how do we get back?

The strangers continued to take in their surroundings after Tsanoku had explained where they were, so he took the time to assess how long he'd been unconscious. A quick glance at the Bright-star's position as it descended into the horizon and he was able to estimate that it had been no more than a couple of hours. The 'Tessan army had been gone for only a couple of hours. His sister had been their captive for far too long already. He had to get her back. There were plenty of tales depicting the horrors that the Krutessans bestowed upon their hostages. Tsanoku didn't want to imagine any of those happening to his little sister.

Éclaire's only eight. She can't survive being imprisoned. I should've fought harder, been faster. She'd still be here if I wasn't so weak! He looked to the left, to where his Uncle Robert's farm had stood – now only burnt timbers and shattered glass. I couldn't even save them.

Tsanoku visibly shook off his self-hate and misery, before finally looking back to the strangely dressed foreigners. They'd ceased sight-seeing and the girl, Orihime, was now looking to him expectantly. The dark-haired boy realised that they must've asked him a question, but he'd been so absorbed in his self-loathing that he hadn't heard a thing. He flushed, embarrassed, and with a little shame asked her to repeat herself.

Orihime empathised with the strange boy. She knew how embarrassing it could be to miss whole conversations when lost in thought, so she didn't feel annoyed in the slightest to be reiterating what she had said, "Um, I was wondering what your name is? You never did say, and I feel weird not knowing what to call you to get your attention or to even start a conversation, or even…" She trailed off, because frankly she was starting to ramble once again. She was definitely getting better at stopping her words before she freaked people out too much, as Tatsuki had often told her.

"If you talk all the time, Orihime, you won't get to hear what other people have to say. On top of that, you'll run out of things to say for the next conversation. Pace yourself and always hold some of your thoughts back, alright? You'll thank me one day!"

Thinking of her dear friend made Inoue remember just how far away from her home she truly was. She was in a foreign world with no powers…and an enemy who tried to kill her once before. Scary.

A warm voice brought her mind back to the present, "I'm sorry for my rudeness. I wasn't thinking. My name is Tsanoku Raméto. Just call me Tsanoku, alright Orihime?" His smile was friendly enough, especially the way it crinkled his eyes and showed off his dimples, so Orihime decided then and there that she would trust this boy. He seemed nice.

It was then that she recalled her unwelcome travelling companion – perhaps the only thing that still connected the girl to her home world. He had taken to staring at the landscape yet again, but he now seemed more focused on the setting sun than on anything in else. A chilling thought entered her mind: was this place dangerous at night? Were there monsters?

Dual-coloured eyes checked the direction of the sun too and then met Inoue's troubled grey eyes, "We'd best head over to the remains of my v-village," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the smoking ruins of the small town in the distance, his voice catching at the end of his words, "Farris doesn't have much space-wise, but if the town hall is still standing we can shelter in there for the night. We really don't want to get caught outside when the Bright-star goes down."

Orihime blinked at the boy in confusion, "Um…why not Tsanoku-san?"

He shook his head in obvious exasperation, "I keep forgetting that you don't know where you are, so you won't know about the lands at all. When the darkness covers the land, the Paraxians descend from the mountains." He pointed to the large mountain range that blotted out the skyline beyond the smoking village. To Orihime's eyes it looked like some horrifying monster that wished to swallow all of the light in the world. The upper peaks were lost in the black rain-clouds that were still present in the sky, but what tips the teen could see were jagged and harsh. The forest just before the foot of the closest mountain seemed to have sprouted from the same evil origins as the rest of the foreboding range, for the trees looked just as black and malevolent.

The older boy noticed the carrot-top's fear and placed a hesitant, but comforting, hand on her shoulder, "Hey, don't look so scared. As soon as we get inside we'll be okay. Paraxians almost never catch people out of their homes these days, and they never enter buildings that are sealed up – for some reason. Let's just get going now, alright?"

"Sure thing, but…" Inoue glanced back toward the stony-faced Arrancar, who simply refused to look at either of them. She stepped over to him, nervous but not as afraid as before. He flicked his eyes over to Orihime's and glared harshly at the girl. "Um, you're coming with us, right?"

"You are my mission. If you insist on this foolishness, then I shall follow you until we return to our own world. Once we do," He moved a step closer, his height suddenly more pronounced. He didn't tower above her like Chad did, but he definitely made the high-schooler shrink back, intimidated. His cat-like eyes narrowed even further as he continued, "you will come with me to Aizen-sama. That is not up for negotiation."

Orihime chose not to argue with him over the matter, although she swore in her heart that she would never be taken and used as a pawn by Sousuke Aizen. She was not a victim.

Tsanoku was relieved when the odd pair finally started to follow him towards Farris. He really didn't want to get attacked by monsters on top of having to fight from before, getting squashed, nearly drowning and losing his sister to devils. Their steps were hurried as they made their way to the ruined village. Tsanoku reckoned that there was barely half an hour until the night began and he knew that it would take longer to get in some shelter. He was tired and his body felt bruised and battered from fighting with that purple-haired bastard. Fending off Paraxians would be difficult.

He gripped the hilt of his rusted sword and checked over his unusual companions. He could tell straight away that the girl, Orihime, had neither a weapon nor any combat experience. She would probably need protecting if they were attacked. Her scary friend though…he carried an odd, thin blade in a scabbard at his hip. The young farm boy hoped that he could use it correctly, or he'd have two people to worry about.

"When we get to the village, let me do the talking. You two stand out enough as it is. I'll see about getting you some dry clothes too. The last thing you need is getting sick around here. The doctor isn't even in the village this week."

Orihime's eyes practically bugged out of her head in surprise. "Then, how do you care for the injured?"

His eyes met hers, the red more visible than the grey since she was standing on his left. "The Mayor knows a couple of healing techniques, nothing amazing though, and the Holy Mage also knows some too. They're handy in a crisis, but if your arm was hanging off then you'd need a real doctor." He tried to grin, because he had seen people unlucky enough to lose a limb after being attacked by Paraxians, but apparently neither of his bizarre new allies found his humour all that funny. "Anyway, you both look healthy enough, so you've got nothing to worry about."

"I'm fit as a fiddle me!" Orihime declared, punching a fist with alarming force into her other hand's palm, "Owwie…"

This girl is definitely an odd one.

Watching the pathetic girl cause bodily harm to her own hands only solidified Ulquiorra's belief that humans were useless and weak. It was sheer inanity, but the Quattro was not even slightly shocked. Humans always behaved like lemmings, putting themselves in danger for the simplest of matters. Self-sacrificing, they termed it. Ulquiorra preferred to think of it as predictable madness. It was why he had planned what he had to trap the girl. She would not have saved herself if it meant her friends would suffer. It was only unfortunate that she hadn't acted exactly as she should have. Something must be inherently wrong with her. She attacked him without stopping to think about her comrades.

Looking at her bedraggled, soaked form, he thought she should have looked defeated and depressed, as all other humans would have in her situation – trapped in a weird world, powerless and at the mercy of a total stranger – but there was a peculiar smile adorning her face instead. Perhaps I truly do not understand the mind of a human. After all, they claim to be ruled by emotions and their 'hearts', so perhaps there is no definite response in any given scenario. Regardless, Ulquiorra hated not knowing how his captive would respond to the world around her. He didn't want to be caught off guard anytime in the near future.

The odd-eyed boy laughed at something that the girl had said, and Ulquiorra felt something stir within his…soul? Was that where the feeling was originating from? He could not be sure. He didn't even know what the feeling might be. He hadn't experienced feelings at all! He scrutinised the pair a little longer, noting the cheerful countenance of both the boy and the bright-haired woman. Whatever they were discussing – he was too far behind them that, short of eaves-dropping, he couldn't hear a thing – kept both of their spirits high and caused both people to laugh aloud once more. The odd feeling returned in full, and this time he acknowledged that it left him wanting something. He had no idea what that something was, but the longer he endured their happy words and laughs, the stronger this longing became.

He hated it.

Which was also a new feeling.

Hate.

Humans are weak and senseless. And now I am inflicted with this same malady of being.

He could not wait for this foolish trial - for that is indeed what it had to be – to be over. He needed to return to the form he was meant to have. Luckily, he could now see the edge of the burnt down village, and there seemed to be only one building standing. It was fairly large and had all the walls and roof intact – a good sign. If there were monsters lurking in the night, having a dilapidated shelter would not work out too well.

By Ulquiorra's best estimate, his mind was rarely wrong with calculations, they would reach the building in just over ten minutes. However, he stole a glance at the sun's position on the horizon and caught the last rays of light filtering from the star before it vanished into the landscape. It was nightfall and they were still not indoors.

Human frailty truly was annoying.