While Rukia buried herself in work in order to forget about Ichigo, somewhere in Hueco Mundo, his memory was being kept alive like a stoked fire in the mind of a lone traveller of the bone-white dunes.

Orihime had managed to heal Halibel, though not without leaving a reminder of her old master's betrayal struck across her stomach. It seemed her healing powers had waned somewhat from what Aizen had told them rather emphatically that she was capable of. It didn't matter. So long as she was alive and could put one foot in front of the other, someday she would defeat the one who'd brought it all crumbling down.

As the sole survivor of the War, Halibel was now doubtless the most powerful entity walking the desert of the Hollow motherland. At the moment she was on her way to a nest of Adjuchas whom she'd been informed had refused to join up with her and the new coalition she had succeeded in piecing together in the year since her return. She would not allow Aizen's foolishness to mean the end of everything she knew.

As she passed into a grove of trees like great skeletal arms reaching open-palmed to the perpetually black sky, her sixth sense told her just how many dissenters she'd be dealing with today. A nest of six Adjuchas would be a deathtrap to any lesser Hollow, but made only cold determination rise in the heart of the woman whose fish bone skirt swayed with each confident step as she marched on.

Coming to a clearing in the forest in which she now found herself, Halibel stopped. Nobody was in sight, but they were certainly around. "Come on out," she said with a surprising lack of confrontation. "I'll give you a chance to explain yourselves."

To an outside observer, it would have seemed that the six Hollows, which each stood at twice her height, had suddenly appeared out of thin air to encircle the former Espada. In truth, they had all jumped down from a different bony tree, albeit with lightning speed.

"We want nothing to do with you, so you can get lost before we tear you apart," snarled the one directly before her. It wore a mask like a bat, with a pushed in, leaf-shaped nose and bigger, similarly shaped protrusions where the ears would be.

"You have everything to lose by not cooperating," Halibel responded quietly, unfazed by the brute's appearance or vitriol.

The one to her left barked a raspy laugh. "We're not losing anything," it hissed. Fittingly, its mask brought to mind a snake, with a long, arrow-shaped head and two eye holes at the side. A long, curved fang jutted from the bottom of its mask on either side.

"You will," Halibel corrected without bothering to turn to face the snake. "Our territory is expanding. This forest will soon belong to us either way."

"Bullshit," a third cut in. She didn't care to see what it looked like, but it stood behind her, directly opposite the bat. "We've got protection from the likes of you," it boasted. The bat's head snapped up at that, and Halibel knew that it must've been looking its compatriot dead in the eye in reprimand for its loose tongue.

"Is that right?" Halibel asked plainly. Without any visible effort, she momentarily released her hold on her reiatsu to crack the mask of the one behind her whom she hadn't seen. She heard it growl in response. "Where was that protection of yours?" she asked, now condescending.

Ignoring the plight of its accomplice, again the bat-masked one piped up. "Enough showboating," it demanded with a wave of its clawed mitt. "You've been outbid. We've already accepted a better offer, so beat it."

Halibel suddenly became aware of another presence, then, one that was definitely not Hollow. In fact, she thought it felt like the polar opposite. Somewhere off in the dense trees. Without a word, she blew the head off the bat with a well-aimed cero, and before its body even hit the sand, whipped her arm about so that her palm faced the ones behind her, outside of her periphery. In it glowed what looked like a miniature sun. None moved.

"Show yourself," she demanded at the trees before her.

From out them calmly stepped a figure clad in a snow white mantle, wearing a featureless black mask beneath a white military cap. The mantle was bisected horizontally and vertically by navy blue lines which crossed in the middle.

"Who are you?" Halibel asked. She made sure not to lose focus on the cero readied in the hand behind her back. There was no telling how confident those she aimed at would get with the appearance of this odd stranger.

"It doesn't matter," came a male voice. His right hand appeared from under his mantle, clad in a glove the same colour as the cross on his garment. As he held it open to the night, it seemed to draw in moonlight like the drain in a bath draws water. And as the white light spun into his palm, it collected into a ball, one which suddenly stretched out to form a rod of pure light. Halibel knew that it wasn't actual light he'd gathered, though, but reishi.

"A Quincy," Halibel mused halfway between confrontation and amusement, as she watched the plain glowing rod continue to resolve its shape until it resembled a honed lance, about as tall as the man who held it. Strange, she'd heard they only shaped arrows.

"Are you the one who calls yourself the Queen?" he asked. In his hand he twirled the lance as effortlessly as a baton.

"No," Halibel corrected, "but my followers are free to call me whatever the like." To her surprise, she thought she heard him chuckle behind the mask.

The lance froze in his hand with the killing end pointed directly at her.

"Soon they'll have to call you 'the late Queen'," he taunted. He had a lot of pluck for someone who hid behind a mask, the irony of which was not lost on the bare-faced Halibel.

The small sun went supernova in her hand. A gateway to a realm of golden light seemed to open like a gigantic eye from where it had been, and from out the ovoid of shimmering yellow shot five beams. Four found their mark as four lifeless bodies collapsed to the ground. However, the snake had jumped away, not quickly enough to keep both of its arms, but enough to not join its friends in death. Yet.

Halibel twirled out of the path of the rushing lance like a ballet dancer, but her attempt to punch the Quincy only served up her hand to be caught in his like an animal in a trap. His skin was like steel, or at least, his gloves were.

Crunch.

One hand down.

Another eye of superheated yellow energy opened up, this time between the Quincy and his catch. They sprang apart just as the sand around them shot up like a geyser with the force of the cero Halibel's free hand had planted deep beneath it. Her back slammed into something hard—the snake.

An arm like a great snake itself constricted around her, but her bones didn't buckle as so many had beneath that steely vice. The back of her head caved in the Adjuchas's mask, leaving bone splinters in her canary yellow locks. The moment the grip on her loosened, Halibel pirouetted in midair and put her stiffened hand through the Hollow's head by way of the dent she'd made. It came out the other side clad in a glove of dark red.

Still wearing the snake Hollow's head like a bracelet from which its limp body dangled like a giant, morbid charm, she swung her arm around just in time for the whistling lance to lodge itself in the corpse instead of her chest. Then she let it fall to the ground below with a flick of her wrist, and touched down herself soon after.

"I'm impressed," called the Quincy who had already formed another lance.

"If you'd properly prepared, you wouldn't be," she replied sternly.

"Jeez, you can't take a compliment, can you?" he joked. She didn't like jokes.

Still, he had room to. He was the one who had his opponent crippled and at the mercy of as many lances as he wished to conjure. He'd already proven himself fast enough to avoid cero – she thought she remembered hearing that they had a high-speed technique of their own akin to sonido. As a born hunter of her kind, he must have sensed how powerful she was, and that he didn't back down gave her pause. Should she retreat?

As if he'd read her thoughts, he called, "If you wanna run, I won't stop you." Was he that sure of himself? It didn't matter. All that mattered was how sure she was of his—

Something sharp poked the back of her neck. It was only then that she realized the Quincy had vanished without a sound.

"I suggest you run," came a familiar voice over her shoulder.

xxx

Once Halibel had finished relaying the beginning of her empire's demise, Kisuke Urahara sat pensively stroking his stubbly chin. Ichigo Kurosaki had brought her to his cramped shop after their run-in with the Hollow duo they had defeated earlier that day.

"Interesting..." the man said to himself.

"You don't trust me," Halibel guessed.

The man's head came up until the brim of his striped had lifted enough so that she could see the whites of his devious eyes. He smirked. "Would you blame me?"

"You have good reason to be cautious around me," Halibel admitted without indignation.

"Where did the Quincies come from?" the man asked suddenly.

"I don't know. But they don't reside in Hueco Mundo, they just send generals in to keep watch," she told him.

"Very interesting..."

Ichigo was sitting in the next room watching Halibel and Urahara converse from the doorway connecting the two, though he couldn't hear them from where he sat. He was still clad in his shihakusho since the Urahara Shoten was constantly protected from detection by any undesirables. Kon was on his way to give Ichigo his body back at the moment.

Yoruichi, who sat across from him with her back to the opposite wall, stared intently at the speakers.

"What are they talking about?" asked Ichigo. Yoruichi turned to him then.

"How should I know?"

"I thought you could hear like a cat."

"Do I look like a cat, Ichigo?"

Yes, he replied in his head. She had the eyes for it, and her canines always seemed very much like fangs whenever he saw her flash a toothy grin.

Like the one he noticed she was hitting him with right then.

"What?" he asked.

"You and Rukia haven't seen each other in a while," she told him, as if he wasn't painfully aware of every aching second that passed without seeing his wife again.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Ichigo asked, his dander decidedly up all of a sudden.

"You must be pretty lonely," she grinned.

"I'm fine," he lied, turning his head to again face the two who were still chatting. He didn't like this Yoruichi. A second later, his ears twitched at the sound of something being undone. He kept his eyes fixed on Urahara and his Arrancar guest.

"Hey, Ichigo," she called.

"I'm not looking," he told her.

"Come on, it's nothing you haven't seen before by now," she pouted mockingly.

Though he doubted that, what he said was "I'm trying to hear."

"No you're not, you're just trying to fight your natural urges. Don't be such a prude, Ichigo," she said, he heard, through a grin.

An instant later, Ichigo's head did turn, though not where the teasing seductress wanted. He had whipped around at the sound of a heavy thud on the floor behind him to see his own body flat on its back, blood trickling from its nose. Kon had obviously walked in and seen whatever it was Yoruichi had meant for Ichigo. By the time he looked in her direction, she'd finished closing her shirt.

Sliding over on his knees, Ichigo raised a fist above his body's stomach. "You idiot," he said. Then he dropped the fist so hard onto his own gut that out of his mouth popped a small, round candy. As the body sat up right after, it picked up the candy and pocketed it before rubbing its stomach and saying in Ichigo's voice, "Damn, I overdid it a little."

Ichigo stood and said goodbye to the woman who'd failed to defile him before heading toward the door of the shop. He was surprised and instantly put on edge when he saw someone garbed in a white cloak and an opaque white veil standing in the doorway. He hadn't sensed them, which probably meant that the cloak hid their reiryoku. A Quincy?

"Urahara!" Ichigo yelled as he took up a karate stance from his childhood. It would likely be useless, but had been a reflexive action. But when Kisuke popped his head around the corner a moment later, a pat on Ichigo's shoulder forced him to relax.

"Don't sweat it, Ichigo, I'm expecting this one."

Ichigo looked befuddled as the cloaked figure wordlessly entered the store. As they brushed past him, he saw something that allayed his worries in the stupidest way: the back of the cloak was stamped with the words "PROPERTY OF THE URAHARA SHOTEN" in bold black letters diagonally across the back, complete with a cartoon of Urahara flashing the victory sign underneath. Judging by their slimness, Ichigo guessed that the obscured stranger was a woman.

He didn't have time to dwell on that, though. He was already late for his appointment to visit Chad in the hospital.

When he heard the trap door far above him suddenly creak open, Grimmjow sat up in his cage. He'd been moved to the expansive underground complex beneath the Shoten and locked up in the time since his little incident on the outside. Down the tall ladder came the cat woman followed by someone in all white whose face was covered.

After they'd reached the ground, Grimmjow thought he noticed the strangest thing: just as a pang of hunger stabbed at his stomach, he could've sworn that the figure in white staggered in perfect sync with his pain. He'd been plagued by the reawakened hunger since the day he'd tasted that girl Orihime saved – a girl she also knew. And by now the pains were so sharp that it felt like a hot knife puncturing his gut each time they flared up.

"Who's that?" he asked through the bars. He couldn't feel a thing from them, they were like a blank slate.

The cat woman and the slate stopped about ten feet from the cage. "Actually, you've already met," she said seriously. "She's the one you attacked on the street."

She went on to explain why that person had been brought to him: in the weeks since his attack on her, it became clear that she was the victim of a completely unique condition never before seen. This was because all but the brashest Hollows were prone to attacking humans instead of spirits, and every time one did, only the human or the Hollow would survive to see another day, usually the latter. However, this time, both had survived, and they'd become connected through a kind of venom that the striped hat man had theorized existed in Grimmjow's – and possibly all Arrancar's – fangs.

He'd theorized right. Grimmjow was an apex predator, after all.

So it was that, each time the hunger lashed at Grimmjow's gut, the wound he'd left the girl with, which had healed poorly, reacted accordingly and burned. The pain had become so great that she'd been taken by Orihime to the hat man, who'd formulated a plan...

"So, each week, she's going to pay you a visit," the human cat finished.

"What for?" Grimmjow griped, already annoyed at having to sit through an explanation he didn't give a crap about.

"To keep you from starving," she answered cryptically.

Grimmjow scoffed humorlessly. "Why doesn't the man in the hat just do me in?"

The cat shrugged. "I guess he thinks you're more useful alive right now," she said. Then she motioned to the girl to step closer to the cage. It took some coaxing, but eventually she made her way trepidatiously over to it, stopping a foot short of the bars.

"Do it like he showed you," the cat woman told the veiled one. The girl lifted her gloved right hand out of her cloak and held it between her and Grimmjow for a minute while absolutely nothing happened. Even so, he could see her shoulders quivering as she kept it raised, and didn't think it was out of fear.

The hand dropped along with her shoulders. "Try again," the cat said encouragingly.

After a few breaths, the girl did, and another long and boring minute later, a small white light suddenly flared to life centimeters from her palm. Grimmjow watched as it slowly expanded like a balloon filling up with air, and once it was about the size of a muskmelon, a tantilizing scent struck his nose.

The glowing orb smelled delicious.

"Excellent," the dark-skinned woman smiled. "That's just how rookie Shinigami do it," she nodded. Then, after Grimmjow had stared at the orb for a while like a kid eyeing a piece of candy, she spoke again. "Well, dig in," she told him. The mystery girl pushed her hand out so that the orb brushed up against the bars, her veiled face turned away as if in disgust.

Grimmjow's hand darted out of the cage, clamping onto the poor girl's sleeved wrist with such speed that there was an audible whap! Yoruichi immediately tensed for action, but found no reason to move once the Arrancar put his lips to the orb. Holding her hand in place, Grimmjow drank from the orb, which shrank with each hungry gulp. When he'd finished, he grinned and licked the girl's palm, causing her to jerk her arm away and him to laugh meanly.

The girl may have been shaken, but as for Grimmjow, he felt amazing. His stomach was finally quiet, not full, but no longer upset. He slumped back and stared at the girl expectantly. "Well? Keep it coming," he ordered.

"That's all you get," the cat interjected.

"What?!"

"That's the deal. We're not running a buffet here. She'll give you enough so that neither of you will hurt, once a week."

What a bitch.

"Fine," snapped Grimmjow with crossed arms.

They both turned to leave. Just as the cat was about to start up the ladder, the cloaked woman ran back over to Grimmjow's cage, though she stopped quite far away. "Let's get along," she said. It may have been kindness, sarcasm, or simply a wish to conduct business in a civilized manner – he couldn't tell. In any case, he didn't appreciate it, and scoffed at her. Then she followed up the ladder and the door above him slammed shut. What an idiot that girl was.

Whoever she was.

Work had never been more exciting.

Karin bustled from room to room in the Sixth Division barracks, shuttling papers to those who needed to sign them, relaying messages from officers of higher seats to those of lower ones, even stopping once in a while to show a newbie in training how to hold their zanpakuto during a sparring match in the Division dojo. And now that the day was done, she set to her final task: bringing tea to the Captain and vice-Captain. Of course, she saved the best for last.

"Hey, Renji-san," she said as she walked into his office for the fifth time that day, setting down the tray that held two cups of green tea and unloading the first onto his desk.

"Can't you at least call me senpai?" asked Renji irritably as he immediately dropped a fountain pen and picked up the cup. He gave it a hardy slurp.

Karin smirked. "Maybe I should call you 'Renji-niichan' instead."

Just as expected, the vice-Captain instantly took on a red hue and had a coughing fit halfway through his next slurp. It was funny to see how just thinking about Yuzu got him so flustered.

"Don't you have more tea to deliver?!" he yelled. Maybe he hoped to play off his red face as full of anger and not embarrassment. Chuckling, Karin grabbed the tray and exited the office.

Into the bigger, nicer office she strode – not that Renji's was small or shabby. She hadn't bothered to knock and came in to find Byakuya's back to the door. He immediately whipped about, no doubt to give some disrespectful underling a reprimand for failing to announce themselves, when he froze upon seeing who'd entered.

"I see," he said, "come in, then." It wasn't sarcasm. He literally had to "allow" her entrance she hadn't asked for as a force of habit and matter of pride. When he turned back around to finish whatever he was up to, Karin chuckled under her breath.

She set the tray on his expansive, ornate desk. The sturdy wood was darkly stained and filigreed at the sides with images of sakura trees whose branches reached toward the center, where the Kuchiki mon was emblazoned, also in filigree. She'd decided to rest the whole tray on the desk as she hadn't seen a coaster and thought it better than taking the chance of forgoing one. For all she knew, this desk was a family heirloom. Most everything he owned seemed to be, even the hairclip he used to wear.

That moment, Byakuya finished his work and turned again. Seeing the tray of tea, he calmly walked over and rested his hand on what Karin had assumed was a black lacquered automatic pencil sharpener on the right side of his desk, and lifted the top off. As it turned out, the rectangular box was filled with neatly filed crystal coasters, of all things. He ran his finger along their tops before pulling one which was painted with pink sakura, placed it down, and topped it with the tea cup. Then he balanced the tray atop his incoming paperwork bin and ran his fingers along where it had lain.

"It's an heirloom," he said in response to her puzzled expression. Of course. Karin's exasperated exhale fluttered her left forelock.

"Are you ever gonna lighten up?" she asked him as he sat down for his tea. He drank tea very differently from Renji: for one, he used both hands, with one resting on the bottom of the cup to support it as he tipped the contents into his mouth; for another, he made no sound while he drank.

"It's only a coaster," he told her as he replaced the cup on said coaster.

"Exactly," Karin came back with.

"I came to the wedding, didn't I?" he said, leaning forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk and his chin on the back of his knuckles.

"You can't keep using that," Karin said with a dismissive wave. "That was a year ago."

"How should I lighten up, then?" he asked. His face betrayed none of the humor she thought she detected in his voice. Possibly.

"I dunno," she admitted. "But when you're working you look so scary." She'd meant he looked unapproachable, but that was what came out.

"I never asked you to join me at work," he pointed out.

That was true. She'd started doing it after class on days when she only had it early in the morning, and on some of her days off. She felt bad that Ichigo couldn't do the same thanks to his heavier course-load. She liked helping out, and as far as anyone knew she was merely getting in work experience, as she was already a Gotei 13 auxiliary member.

"So, you're saying I should stop coming by?" she asked teasingly, but with a serious expression.

"I didn't say that," Byakuya retorted, taking another sip of tea.

"So you're fine if I keep coming around, then?"

"Your hearing is very poor," Byakuya replied. Byakuya couldn't joke, but that was as close as he'd ever gotten.

"Then what are you saying?" she asked.

"I'm not saying anything. I simply asked what I could do to lighten up, and you dodged the question."

Karin thought about it for a moment. Maybe he actually would try, for her. "Well," she said, "maybe when people come see you, you could he more...inviting."

"Inviting?"

"You know what I mean," Karin groaned. "Make them feel like they're doing a good job – like they matter." He certainly didn't do that now.

Shockingly, Byakuya actually seemed to consider this notion, as he took to stroking his chin with one hand. "Perhaps some practice would be beneficial," he said, seemingly to himself.

"Right," Karin said optimistically with a nod. "Just give it a try." She couldn't believe she was actually beginning to crack that tough Kuchiki exterior. Of course, she'd meant to say Give it a try sometime.

Byakuya stood. He circled around Karin and before she could turn to follow him, she felt his hands rest upon her shoulders to keep her still. Chills did laps along her spine.

"B-Byakuya..."

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

"I'm being inviting."

He turned her about to face him. His eyes were...not his eyes. They were like staring into the sun, and not just because Karin could feel her face warming under them. Her muscles tensed so tightly that they ached, and she thought she might not be able to move, but that he moved her head so easily with only a fingertip under her chin proved her wrong.

His face drew closer. Karin squeezeed her eyes shut as she awaited a kiss, looking more like she expected to have water dumped on her head. She wasn't ready for this!

At the last moment Byakuya veered away from her lips to whisper in her ear. "Do you feel like you matter?" he asked, and goosebumps errupted on her neck where his soft breath fell.

She could barely nod.

Suddenly it was over. By the time Karin managed to open her eyes, he was gone. When she turned around, he was already sitting back at his desk, taking the finishing sip of his tea. It was almost as if she'd just had a waking dream.

"Perhaps I need more practice," he said with closed eyes as he set his cup down.

Karin was astonished to find out that she had been wrong: Byakuya could joke.

"What do you think?" Yoruichi asked her oldest friend after waiting a long while since transferring their new guest to the room Grimmjow used to occupy. Even though she knew that Kisuke had proofed each room with a door against the sounds of the main area in which they sat, she still felt better waiting.

"It's interesting," he said. This earned him a smack upside the back of the head.

"You said that too much already," Yoruichi said flatly. "I mean about her."

Straightening his hat, Urahara answered, "Her story is plausible, but not perfect. But I could just be overthinking," he said with a shameful smile. "That's not what bothers me, though."

"Hm?"

"I'm performing a little experiment on our friend Grimmjow," he admitted without shame. "But it looks like Halibel-chan might be attempting the same thing," he said into the floor at which he stared pensively. He sighed. "It seems that, even locked up, Aizen still manages to replicate my findings one way or another without even trying."

"But Aizen didn't do it," Yoruichi said, "she did."

"Isn't that the same thing?" he asked.

"I hope not," Yoruichi replied.