okay, wow, this took longer than it needed to... okay, well, um, as said one my last update for Fangs, with the ending of the school year, and due to a lack of net at my current residence, my updates are going to be less frequent than any of us wish. the stories will still progress, naturally, but we'll all have to be more patient, as I have some other projects in the works that are interfering with my ability to write, not to mention I've reached that point with this story where I know the details, but keeping them in the proper order is driving my insane. Ulquiorra, you are a frustrating son-of-a-bitch but I still love you so I won't give up, even if it kills me.

Anyway, MOVING ON!

Morning played out fairly normal, Erin swearing at the sudden flash-bang she received, and she met Ulquiorra just outside his room, rubbing her free eye and noticing the solemn glare in his gaze that denoted "no talking about last night". She nodded absently and yawned as he turned on his heel and began to walk away, speaking one word the entire trip into the dome.

"Come."

This time, Erin had expected him to go tundra. She was starting to understand his behavior bit-by-bit, as she was naturally observant due to the sharpness of her senses, and figuring out this so-called "emotionless" Espada was becoming a little easier by the day. Remarkably, this hot-tempered Arrancar had immense patience, which clashed with her nature at being as volatile as her reiatsu; a paradox for which she had no explanation.

Being exposed to another was not something Ulquiorra was accustomed to. Erin was beginning to understand this part of him and felt for him, knowing full-well the regrettable nature of growing accustomed to self-reliance and isolation, how frightening and painful it was, how never-ending it seemed. Maybe that's why she seemed so in-tune with him. They vibrated on the same frequency.

The idea made her smile, her focus on her feet so she wouldn't disturb her Espada with pointless questions despite not liking the silence. Ulquiorra, having looked over his shoulder without intention, noticed her expression and began studying it, wondering why she was looking that way and what she could be thinking of. Expression was something he was used to seeing on others, but of course he didn't believe any of the Arrancar could actually feel whatever it was that was making said expression; his badmouthing of feeling didn't extend to shinigami or people, as he knew feelings were real, so to specify his beliefs, due to the circumstances surrounding the creation of a Hollow, he only believed those fallen souls and the Arrancar products of them were the ones who couldn't feel much of anything truly. Naturally, he didn't bother to explain to Erin, as he was in one of his "moods" again and saw no reason to.

Erin's head began to lift and he forced himself to look forward before she caught him staring yet again, cursing her glamour and its sneaky effectiveness on his psyche. Her enhanced peripheral vision allowed her to catch the faint contraction of his neck muscles and the shifting of his hair as he turned, drawing a smirk across her face. Erin knew he'd been looking at her. How could she not feel those bright, emerald eyes whenever his impressive attention was on her? Every twitch of his body, his hair, his clothes, gave her something to notice and note, the sharp, clean scent of his skin breaking the dusty, contained odor of the dome like a knife. Everything about the Cuarto Espada was a sensory shock to her, a novelty, a refreshment. To someone whose five senses were so keen, finding stimulating variations that weren't annoying or painful was rare, and she enjoyed it as much as she could every chance she was around him.

They were heading to the same spot they always went, out in the far side of the dome's desert floor, away from the chances of being disturbed by the others. Especially Grimmjow. As he preferred taking his time, Ulquiorra always walked, taking the time to think to himself; Erin used it to observe. Unlike her still-kind-of-awkward stride, he moved with precise grace, his body held at a rigid slouch which would fool anyone with less perception into thinking he was relaxed, but Erin could see the stress etched into his muscles, see the tension in his frame as he walked; his disturbed nights and unprecedented exposure were stressing him out, and that could be bad for his health later on if nothing was done to center his inner turmoil.

Concerned for her Espada's well-being, Erin trotted up a few steps to draw closer to him and closed her eyes, relying on her hearing and her "sixth sense" to keep up with him, and doing the one thing that always helped ease her nerves when she was bearing the brunt of survival.

She began to sing softly.

"Dig up her bones but leave her soul alone... boy, with a broken soul, heart with a gaping hole... dark twisted fantasy, turned to reality, kissing death and losing my breath..."

Having not expected her to start in like that, Ulquiorra almost, almost faltered in his steps, her voice swirling around him on the air like a breeze of summer whistling over a field. His brooding thoughts came to a crashing halt and he went on autopilot, unconsciously navigating their way across the dome as he focused on every curling strain of melody, feeling as if her song were pushing away his tension merely by being heard. There is no way he'd admit it in direct meaning, but he maybe, sort-of liked Erin's voice, and that was why he actually didn't mind when she spoke to him, even if he wasn't keen on conversation at the time. Hearing her speak was comforting, like when she tore him from that nightmare with nothing more than words and a gentle touch, and knowing she was there kept the recurring aftershocks at bay; whenever she wasn't close at hand, he found himself looking for her, and though he was disappointed in himself for gazing at an empty window sill like a lost puppy looking for someone to adopt it, he knew for certain it was only because she'd slept there once, and her very presence provided a kind of sanctuary for him from the ever-presence emptiness around him, be it self-imposed or not.

"Midnight hours, cobble street passages, forgotten savages... forgotten savages..."

She was close. It was hard to miss the oddly intense heat that radiated off of her like a furnace in winter-heat that surpassed even Grimmjow's typical temperature, and his was one of the warmest among the Arrancar, warmth already being rare for a Hollow to begin with-and with it came her clean, warm scent like freshly-washed linens. Interestingly enough, the smell of fresh clothes was something he personally enjoyed, being a very tidy person and all, and the fact she carried such a pleasing scent with her made ignoring her for the sake of ignoring her glamour even more frustrating and difficult than it already was. Erin Void was one, giant sensory overload for him and he had yet to figure out if that was good or bad for him, though he wasn't really complaining.

"Dig up her bones but leave her soul alone... let her find a way to a better place... broken dreams and silent screams, empty churches and soulless curses... we found a way to escape the day... dig up her bones but leave her soul alone... lost in the pages of self-made cages, life slips away and the ghosts come to play... these are hard times... these are hard time for dreamers... and love-lost believers..."

She sang to him until they arrived at their destination, and for a moment he contemplated-in a manner very unlike himself-playing the absent-minded one and continuing to walk just to see if she'd continue singing, but then he thought to himself, Provoking or asking for such things found enjoyable ruins the novelty and quality of the event. If I ask or make her continue it will grow routine and I do not wish to grow bored of it. Then he wondered why it mattered if he got bored of her songs or not.

Damn.

Of course, she drew to a close as they come to a stop and noted with pleasure that his body was less rigid now, though he still wasn't looking at her directly; more at the edges of his peripheral so he could acknowledge her but not get caught in her so-called glamour. Well, at least he was acknowledging her, meaning the tundra was thawing finally.

"We will begin here," he told her, not betraying any change of mood or thought from the last few days. "I will be measuring your capacity for combat now that you are an Arrancar. Do not disappoint me."

Erin was just about to ask what he meant by "testing her capacity" when he vanished from her sight and her sensors. She blanched. "Shit."

Suddenly, with barely a thought on her part, Erin's pesquisa radiated out and she found him the millisecond before his attack landed, allowing her to bring her right forearm up beside her head and block his knife-hand chop, his body angled away from her as he felt a forceful jolt work its way up his arm.

"Good," he mused, exerting more force against her and feeling her meet it equally. "Why do you not force me back?"

"Because," she said back, half her mind working on why her senses were reacting without her needing to focus and half trying not to give in to him.

"If you do not fight seriously, I will hurt you." As a point, he pivoted forward and swung his leg, aiming for her shoulders.

Erin's ponder-bubble popped and she felt his kick connect and shove her forward; she let out more in surprise than in pain, but her instincts twisted her mid-fall and her hand shot out, latching onto his forearm and dragging him down with her. It took hardly a second and he wasn't expecting her reflexes to be so much quicker without refinement, plus she was actually heavier than she looked-a direct result of her muscles being condensed, increasing her strength while minimizing her size-so he tumbled right along with her.

One can imagine a special kind of situation coming out of this, but this is Ulquiorra and Erin. It doesn't work that way.

Curving herself into a ball, Erin planted her feet on Ulquiorra's stomach and rolled backwards, kicking him over her head and turning it into a full summersault, pinning him to the ground and sitting on him, folding her arms over her chest. "Nice try," she chided, quirking her brow.

"You're reaction time is much better," he said. "But your focus is still lacking."

"You should remember how disorienting it is suddenly having your mind quiet enough to be able to focus in the first place."

He grunted, before pushing off with his right arm and rolling them, bracing his forearm against her neck and pinning one of her wrists with his left hand, bearing down on her while she pushed back on his elbow with her free palm. "I will not hesitate to strike lethally if you do not take this seriously."

"And here," Erin gasped sarcastically, trying to wiggle free, "I thought... you were holding back..." She managed to take a deep breath after getting him off of her windpipe enough and her reiatsu began to climb as she pulled it into her chest.

Ulquiorra's pesquisa sent a warning jolt through his body and he leaped upward, detaching himself from her just as she opened her mouth and let out a booming bark laced with her spirit pressure, the shockwave bypassing him as he dodged mid-air, the sonar vibrations quivering him down to his bones. So that's it, he pondered, freezing in place and turning his attention on her as she got up from the sand. She does not have the standard assortment of attacks, but that is most certainly a bala, though a rather unusual one. It's sound-based, reacting to her voice. That's what collapsed the walkway.

Well, that was one mystery solved.

Erin leaped at him, rocketing from the ground with her fist hooked back, aiming at his face with all intentions of paying him back for the roll-over, but naturally he grabbed her as she threw it and blocked her other arm before she could get her hand close enough to grab onto him; Erin feignted a head butt and he reared back as she'd expected, so she pivoted and grabbed his sleeves, hauling him over her back with the intent to toss him to the ground, though she knew she wouldn't be able to pull that stunt on him twice.

She didn't.

Ulquiorra stopped in the air after doing a flip and elbowed her in the neck; Erin gagged but she'd known he'd attack her, so instead of dodging she used the movement to swing backwards and bring her leg up, catching him in the side. The Cuarto Espada didn't budge, but he did clamp down on her leg to repress her motion, prepared to swing her around when she suddenly jumped and twisted; the curvature of her body would not have been natural from any other Arrancar, but her flexibility had carried over along with her senses and allowed her to dislocate her joints while using her spirit pressure to maintain her structure-like Renji's bankai-giving her a range of maneuverability greater than that of any other. So saying, she caught him on his mask fragment just enough to make him release his hold on her, letting her right herself for his retaliation.

Instead of attacking, he merely turned toward her and commented, "It seems you've already mastered how to suspend yourself in the air."

"Huh?" Erin looked at her feet and noticed for the first time they were over twenty feet in the air and she was standing. "Oh, hey, look at that."

"Many of the necessary skills you lack are instinctive to aquire. It just appears that when you try, you fail."

She quirked her brow at him and grumbled, "Thanks," before pondering whether to unsheath her zanpakuto or not. "Hey, just out of curiosity," she began, noting the way his hand had gone to rest on the hilt of Murcielago rather than back into his pockets-he was still prepared to fight, and not hand-to-hand anymore, "will we be needing me to fight in my resureccion anytime?"

"Eventually. But not when your combat prowess is lacking at best."

She gave him the finger without really thinking about it.

Ulquiorra's fingers flexed on his hilt and his gaze narrow ever-so-slightly. "You are as vulgar as that idiot, Grimmjow."

"You're pissing me off. I don't appreciate being talked down to."

He scoffed. "When you refuse to fight to your utmost capacity, expect to be judged as such."

She crossed her arms. "Oh, so you want me to wail on you? Is that it?"

"Your overconfident attitude ensures that will not happen."

"Pf. Fine. Let's see who beats on who when I decide I want to hurt you."

"If you think you can."

Erin was already adjusting quite well to her new body and the precision with which she can now function with the voices dead and gone forever, freeing up places in her mind she'd never been able to utilize before. Everything was much easier for her now, and with Ulquiorra's attitude starting to really get to her, she decided to start using that little convenience to her advantage. Until now, she didn't want to hurt him because, by instinct, she knew she was stronger than he was by quite a bit-stronger than Uno, for certain-and she didn't want to accidentally injure him, though she knew by now he could regenerate instantly from most of her attacks. Therefore, the odds of rendering him a casualty are minimal.

Reishi coalescing with speed she'd only dreamed of before, Erin created three bubbles of power at three different altitudes around her Espada, seeing his flickering panic only milliseconds before he took off, dodging the pockets as they exploded quite forcefully. Three more appeared where he stopped, so he kicked away, jumping into the air.

Erin smirked.

Ulquiorra cracked his head on open air and dropped to the ground with a confused groan. Her focus has increased exponentially, he thought, seeing lights dancing in his eyes. To think that she can now use the same speed as her playful assault to inflict solid damage while simultaneously compressing a wall to halt my retreat-this is why lord Aizen was so distraught. I cannot blame him, if she has this much ability while so grossly under-trained.

Erin's smirk turned into a grin. "You hesitated!" she called, bringing him from his thoughts.

"And you failed to utilize it once again," he replied, rising from his prone position only to feel a kind of claustraphobic disturbance around him. Raising his hand, Ulquiorra reached out in front of him, only to find another solid wall only inches from his body on all sides; she'd caged him with walls while he'd been thinking, successfully using an opening so miniscule most couldn't detect his hesitation. "I stand corrected," he amended, somewhat grudgingly.

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Release me."

"Why?"

"We are not finished and I cannot fight in this situation."

"Isn't that kind of the point of capturing someone?"

He sighed, jaw ticking; she was toying with him, and he did not like being toyed with. Never the one to have the temper, yet somehow unable to keep a lid on himself now, Ulquiorra's patience started to drain away rather quickly as Erin continued to taunt him from the safe side of her construct, tapping at the ethereal walls, hoping to provoke him.

It was working.

"You find overt satisfaction in being able to combat such pathetic skills," he said in a way that made the new Arrancar hesitate, something jolting through her body akin to fear; Ulquiorra was angry. Turning, his piercing emerald gaze tore into her turquoise orbs, an unfamiliar intensity boring into her spirit as she tried to comprehend that Ulquiorra was finally showing way-more-than-minute feelings-though she wasn't much a fan of the idea he was pissed. Especially because of her.

Oh, well, beggars can't be choosers.

"Very well," he went on, the very air seeming to quiver around him. "Since you are more than capable of handling yourself, we'll move on to something more suited to your skill level."

Erin gulped.

Ulquiorra's reiatsu flared sharply, shattering her box and blowing her back several feet as he drew Murcielago from its sheath with slow deliberation, pausing as the tip came free before making a blinding sweep with his arm and causing all the sand beside him to erupt, leaving a deep gash in the soft ground.

She took a small step back, realizing two things in the fraction of a second between that motion and his attack: For one, she was right, Ulquiorra had emotions somewhere under that pallid denial. For another, she was overtly screwed.

He had been holding back the entire time.

Gin Ichimaru walked aimlessly around the outer pathways of the main building where he and his comrades lived, humming tunelessly behind the evil mastermind himself. Aizen was busy mulling over his calculations regarding Erin when a flicker off across the bright sands made him and his lieutenant pause for a moment. It had a feeling of familiarity to it, underscored by rage remnisient in its intensity to someone else, and it made his brows knit. He'd never felt this before.

"What was that?" he wondered aloud, sensing Gin pause behind him. "Grimmjow is still in recovery, isn't he, Gin?"

"Yup," the silver-hair fox replied, snickering to himself. "That wasn't Grimm."

"That pressure was angry, just like his. What could...?"

Gin mused, "Oh, that?" and took a glance out at the sands. "Only felt it once myself, but I know who that is, and it ain't Yammy."

Although it wasn't a surprise Gin might know something from experience he himself didn't, as the ex-Third Company captain spent more time crossing the Garganta to check on progress than he could, he still was certain what it could be, as remaining updated was a habit of his he needed to retain control. "Explain."

Gin shrugged. "Nothing much."

"Oh?"

"Yup."

"What is it, Gin?"

"Ulqui's angry."