At first, seeing the man was no different than any other passerby on the street. Most people had dark hair, walked with their hands in their pockets, and kept to their own business. That was adult life here in Karakura.

But as her eyes travelled past his shoes and clothes, she noticed the familiar stance. She noticed the way he stood, relaxed, almost as if he was bored. She noticed the way his mouth turned down in an expressionless line, the way his hair fell in his face. The way his thick brows sat like straight lines above his eyes.

She noticed his eyes.

The coffee cup that had been in her hand dropped, the cap exploding off and spilling out the steaming liquid onto the pavement below. It splashed on her legs, causing a flash of searing pain for a moment, but she was still too engrossed to notice it yet. It just couldn’t be possible. She’d watched him disintegrate all those years ago, touched him just as he’d turned to ash in her hand. It was impossible.Improbable. Inexplainable.

“Ulqui…. orra?”

What his eyes captured was processed carefully in no time at all. From the second she’d fiddled with her far longer hair, to turning, and dropping her cup of coffee. The doubtful, near fearful and hesitant tone she took when uttering his name. Ulquiorra…

Yes, it was he, and no, not as he was before. Now, he stood before her as human, and for once, he could not deny the fact that they were now equals. Both human—she may even be above him, at that, should she still have control over her abilities, or even more so, and had become stronger. Sensing her reiatsu was apprise enough.

It was clear to him that the near to last thing she had ever expected was to appear before him again, but he wanted to question her. Curiosity was overwhelming enough, and Ulquiorra had to nearly bite his tongue to keep from all his inquires spilling from from pale lips. He saw it unnecessary to be any closer than a couple yards from her, able to gaze upon her with ease.

A bakery—was this the place she spent most of her time? A place where she could put hard work and effort to use? Ulquiorra had merely been wandering the streets, observing, before happening upon the girl—no. She was no longer a girl… In fact, he may question if now she was perhaps a woman.

“You’re questioning whether or not I’m actually standing before you. However, the answer is obvious. I am not an illusion. I am here, and I am alive, again—to answer that question that seems to be overflowing your thoughts so intensely—you can not bare to utter a single word.”

Still in a daze, she said nothing as she stared at him, as if in a trance. Uncaring that she was most likely blocking the door, not giving a second thought to badly shocked her expression might be.

He was here. He was right there.

She could reach out and [ t o u c h ] him if she wanted to.

And she did want to touch him. The urge bubbled up within her like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Stronger than even the feeling she had saying farewell to Ichigo on the night of her kidnapping, or her final farewell to her brother.

She wanted to see if his words rang true. To see if his pale flesh would stay in her gentle hold, or if it would yield and melt away as it had before. In the back of her mind, she thought she should be frightened, but she found she was only enamored with Ulquiorra. Captivated by his eyes. Mesmerized once again by the sound of his drawling voice, clearly unimpressed with her gaping silence.

With twitching fingers, Orihime reached out towards him in a manner that was reminiscent to the way he’d beseeched her on their last meeting, only shakier, and more uncertain.

“I want to know,” she heard herself whisper, not even registering the words as they left her mouth. “I want to… Know for sure…”

Still, the onna seemed incapable of even responding to his voice. To his words of reassurance—that yes, he was physically present, and not simply a state of mind, nor something otherworldly. No longer was he an arrancar, an Espada…the fourth. He was a regular human being, with a beating heart. She? For whatever reason, Ulquiorra viewed her as more than himself even now. As if he’d fallen so lowly, buried himself beneath her feet—her body appeared to have matured, but what of the rest of her? Had Orihime Inoue grown? Truly become a woman since the time had passed? Since he had passed?

Was she even the same Orihime he had known so well back in Las Noches? The questions remained unanswered for now, however, the desire to obtain said answers was strong. A step towards her was taken, then another. A simple request had been made, one that would guarantee that she was not hallucinating. A simple solution, one Ulquiorra would have the privilege of carrying out. The steps were taken steadily, and slow, his arm only raising in time before a pale hand hesitantly came into contact with her own.

Hesitance? The former Espada was cautious, yes, because the last he’d seen of Inoue, it was this same scenery. What if when he finally came within reach, he disintegrated once more? What if his fingers turned to dust, then the rest of he? However, such burdening thoughts were instantly swept away; the warm, overwhelming soft sensation of Inoue’s fingers lacing through his own was all too real and nearly mind-numbing. Emerald orbs narrowed, and he took in the feeling of her hand having finally connected with is own. Was it luck? Luck that gave him the second chance? A chance to feel her warmth, her Heart in the palm of his hand?

Within seconds, it seemed, his hand was retreating, however, and would lower back into the seclusion of pockets as of normalcy. A blank expression still lay sprawled across his features, having not wavered in the slightest bit throughout the vital moment. On the other hand, Ulquiorra would quite closely observe Inoue’s own expression, to anticipate her reaction. In comparison, Ulquiorra’s hand was mildly colder than her own, but the gentleness? It was clear—there was hardly anything to compare. Her hands were hands of that of a healer—not a murderer.

“…You have your answer.”

A simple gesture such as this was not considered intimate by most, but for them both, Orihime felt as if some unseen barrier had been passed. Finally she’d been able to touch his porcelain skin, able to feel his long fingers enclose around her own. She expected that had they done this all those years ago in Hueco Mundo, his hand would have been colder. Empty, like the void in his chest. Here and now however, their hands were warm, and fit together snugly in the pale sunshine of the early morning.

He could boast no more, of having no heart. Orihime could feel it thrumming faintly in his fingertips and palm.

Her lips parted, and the shock on her face melted into a look of wistful bewilderment. It was clear he was here, and she could touch him, and he could speak while she could hear. She too had questions that burned in her throat. Questions of his reappearance, of how he’d survived. How he’d become human. Why he’d chosen to come to the very town he knew she lived. Why had he waited years before coming out about it.

The smart thing, would be to call Ichigo immediately. But Orihime wasn’t very sensible.

As Ulquiorra tugged his hand away, she couldn’t help but follow it for a split second. She didn’t know why she so fiercely desired to take it again and never let go. Their relationship left her perplexed, and thinking about how the rest of this day would go now made Orihime dizzy.

“You really are alive,” she mumbled lamely at last, darting her gaze up so their eyes matched. Amber and Emerald.

 "I’m glad.“

The fact that Inoue had extended her hand just a bit further to only prolong the contact of their hands did not go unnoticed. Rather, Ulquiorra found it peculiar, and intriguing. The main question now was why. Why had she prolonged the embrace for but a mere second? Why was the expression upon her visage as it was? Why wasn’t she running away? Calling for help? Asking for her dear “Kurosaki-kun” to rescue her from the likes of him?

Emeralds, darkly outlined, would narrow, a quite faint frown appearing on Ulquiorra’s face. This girl… It was almost as if there was relief in her voice when she spoke her belief of him truly being there, being alive once again. How irking. A single, small step was taken towards her once more, one that likely could go unnoticed, for Ulquiorra was smooth, and calm as he moved. Like a ghost, he did not make his being purposefully noticeable.

“I’m the former fourth Espada, the one who convinced you to join us in Hueco Mundo. I’m the one who tested just how strong your will truly was—pushed you to the boundaries. I threatened the lives of your so preciousfriends…and you say you’re glad that I’m alive? That I exist to pose a threat once more? I want to know why.”

Her mouth dry, she could not properly clutch hold of the words she desperately wanted to say. They slipped through her fingers like water. She couldn’t explain why the sight of him filled her with warm joy. Why hearing his voice again felt right somehow.

She brought her hand to her chest and rested it there, eyeing him warily because now they were closer. Orihime knew his words all rang true. That she should be angry, or scared, or upset, or frightened. Anything other than happy to see him. He looked human, but he could very well be in a gigai. For all she knew, he could be back to take her away, though with Aizen gone, she doubted Hueco Mundo had any need for her anymore.

For a long time, she could only stare back up at him, mute and unresponsive. Then, finally:

"I’m glad… Because you didn’t deserve to die. Not like that.” Her eyes drifted downwards, settling on the flat of Ulquiorra’s chest.

“You did do horrible things to me Ulquiorra, it’s true. You berated me, made me feel like I was trash at your feet. You hurt my friends. You hurt me. You were even hurting yourself." When she finally could bring herself to look at him, the sides of her eyes had filled with dewy tears.

"I know Ichigo would have killed me that night. Those eyes weren’t human, they weren’t even the eyes of his hollow self. He looked at me and I saw what I was to him. Fresh meat.” Orihime shuddered, moving her other arm up so it wrapped around her stomach, “Whether or not you acknowledge it, you protected me and Uryu. It would have been so easy for you to step aside for a moment and let Ichigo’s sights fall on us. I was of no use to you or Aizen anymore. Yet you continued to engage him.”

She sucked in a shaky gasp, her bottom lip trembling. “And I couldn’t… I still can’t believe I just… Stood there and watched him tear you apart…”

A tear escaped the side of her eye and she quickly rubbed it away messily, trying to keep herself composed. Even after all these years, she was still a crybaby.

“You reached for me then, and I saw… I saw what you’d been hiding. I saw what you were. And I think… I think you saw me too. We weren’t enemies anymore. Or tools to be used. I never felt more completed, or whole… I’d never wanted to touch another person so bad before…. It was.. It was so overwhelming that I felt I’d suffocate. And then I reached back for you and–” It was by then Orihime realized she’d started crying. Not the pathetic sniveling she usually pitched out as a child, or like the sadness she had when saying her farewell to Ichigo.

This was [ d e s o l a t e ]

It made her gasp.

“A-And you j-just f-fa-faded a-away l-like you never existed a-and I di-didn’t do anything t-to help you. S-So that’s why I’m gl-glad because now I c-can tell you h-ho-how s-sorry I am that I let you die.”

The things she said made her seem as if she thought she had at least some important role in that battle so long ago—but perhaps she had? The entire reason that fight between he and Ichigo originally was ensued because Ulquiorra had told Ichigo he was the one to have brought Inoue to Las Noches. Convinced her—only to make her appear as a traitor. Ulquiorra, in the end, had gotten exactly what he’d wanted.

To conquer that shinigami boy—but like a cockroach, he’d risen up once more, and again, Ulquiorra had squashed him. Once more, and even if it was truly that boy, Kurosaki Ichigo had risen, from the dead it seemed, and finally defeated him. It took numerous attempts…but the boy still overcame Ulquiorra.

Whether it was Ichigo or not behind that hollowfied mask, Ulquiorra had still been defeated, and had failed in protecting Aizen’s castle from pure, and utter destruction—the canopy of Las Noches destroyed. Having been overthrown, Ulquiorra believed that he no longer had a purpose, not even to Aizen. He had failed, so what use was a failure to Aizen? That final blow that had severely damaged his internal organs was what had brought Cifer to his demise in the end.

At that point, it was clear to Ulquiorra. His life would be coming to an end, and it did not matter. However….the last thing he would have expected was for Inoue to have disagreed with such a notion. Despite the fact that she in return had reached out to him in his final moments, she had still sat there—done nothing of the matter. Her purpose was to be of full use whilst wearing those clothes…and she was still one of them at the time. Still residing within Las Noches despite Aizen having discharged her—regarding her as no longer a useful piece of hide.

This caused Ulquiorra to initially assume that she was content with the idea of his death…and so, he was as well. There was utterly no purpose, no reason for his life any more. He was useless. So, when she spoke all of this now, spoke as if it were her biggest regret throughout her entire life, Ulquiorra found himself perhaps even more confused than he’d started out to be. Forest green eyes narrowed further, inspecting her carefully, watching as her eyes practically became waterfalls to her own body’s liquids that were unable to be kept within. Ah—those tears….

“…You act as if my death was a mistake—but was it? Truly? Your friend had defeated me, regardless of whether or not it was truly him, it was his physically being that had conquered my own. I had no reason to live any longer. I was useless to Aizen beyond that point—and should I have lived, death would have befallen me in the near future, for my failure to Aizen. It was inevitable.”

“Don’t tell me you thought I desired to live on… What do you believe would have followed? Did you think perhaps your friends would welcome me with open arms? That the Soul Society would accept my prolonged existence?—Or did you perhaps think that I, and Kurosaki Ichigo’s fight would continue? You already know the outcome should that event have happened once more—either I would die, or your friends…. There was no solution, girl. Do not convince yourself that my death was unjust—”

Orihime slapped him. Hard. Cutting the man off in mid-sentence.

The last time she had physically struck him had been because he’d insulted her. Now she hit him because of his own blind stupidity. Her hand tingling in the aftermath, she sniffed loudly, still just as upset as she’d been not moments ago.

How could he have absolutely no regard for himself? How was it possible he was still as blank and empty as the day they met?

She’d grown so much since then. Aged into maturity. Strove to learn everything she’d once been ignorant of. No longer was she the helpless lamb that had strayed too far from the Shepherd’s ankles. She may have fallen once for the wily coyote, but no more. Orihime was intelligent and beautiful, soft-spoken and kind. The epitome of everything she wanted for herself. This was why she could not believe that Ulquiorra still had no self-worth. No direction. No sense of himself. No reason to go on.

[ It broke her heart ]

“It was unjust, and wrong, and if you argue with me I will s-slap you again! And don’t you dare speak to me like I’m a child that needs scolding. You can look at yourself and think that you’re nothing all you want. But don’t you ever tell me that I should think that of you as well. You are not nothing. You are not useless. You are not a tool.”

She brought her trembling hand to his other cheek, turning his head so that it faced her once more.

“You are worth so much more than you think, Ulquiorra.”

                                                                    Slap—

It would be the second time that the onna had struck him—however, this time, it was far more brutal for him. The force was astounding, and without having even turned his head for her, she instead had made his head jolt to the side, a red welt appearing almost instantly on his pale skin afterwards. He was human now…and no longer had the flesh of steel, to be unfazed by such a strike. There was no hierro, to protect him from feeling a thing at all.

Verdant orbs grew wide, lips pursing instantaneously. She hit him…simply because he’d stated the truth? Rather—more so what he believed to be the truth. Ulquiorra was still blinded by the centuries of lonesome, of despair and emptiness—hadn’t yet been able to understand everything about this world. About the people within it…

Another surprise came when a gentler hand came up and met with his opposite cheek, his head turning back so that he may look directly at the onna after a silent request from said hand. The words that escaped her mouth astonished him yet, and he could still hardly believe this girl was saying all these things… After everything he’d put her through….

“I don’t understand…” he admitted. “You value a life that nearly destroyed yours…and the lives of your friends… Why…?”

Her eyes were soft, and warm. Sad too, but that was only faint now. She wanted to be encouraging. She wanted him to see that she was more frustrated then angry with him.

“I told you, and I’ll tell you again.”

Orihime lowered her voice and did her best to suppress the shakiness that came after crying. She ignored the dread that settled in her bones. She knew she could make him understand, or at least try to. “No matter what you think of yourself, or what others think of you, you are not worth nothing….”

She worried at her bottom lip, then pulled her hand back so she could wipe what little tears remained on her cheeks.

“I can’t possibly say that I know everything about you Ulquiorra. Or if I have any right to speak to you like I am. I don’t know what you were like before Aizen. I don’t know anything about arrancars, or souls.” She quieted some more, letting her hand fall to her chest before continuing. “Six years ago… I was just an ordinary girl. I didn’t know that anything outside my world ever existed. Things like the Soul Society, or Hollows, or Hueco Mundo, or you. Six years ago… I think I felt kinda like you.”

Ulquiorra’s eyes had always drawn her in, and the more she stared, the easier the words spilled out.

“For the longest time… The only person that ever cared about me was my brother, Sora. He took care of me because my parents wouldn’t. We were so loyal to one another…. But then he died, and I didn’t know what to do. Everyone around me had nothing but mean things to say. They pushed me around, hurt me, and they even cut my hair. They made me feel like I was nothing. And for a while, I believed it. I had no money, or friends. No one that really cared about me. I was just a burden to everyone, and especially myself. I didn’t know that in the future I would come to have friends that would risk their lives for me, or that I would have powers that people could only dream of. I was just a little girl. So sad and so alone.”

Orihime paused for a minute, to catch her breath, and steer the conversation back unto the right track. “What no one had told me, was that I was only as good as I wanted myself to be. My opinion was the only one that really mattered. So what if my hair is orange, or that I was all by myself, or that eat food that would make other people sick. I was as good as I wanted myself to be. So I kept going, even when everything else was pulling me down. Even when I felt I had nothing to go on for.”

“I didn’t know that I was worth so much more than I let myself believe. Even though you don’t think you’re worth anything Ulquiorra, I do. Because I know firsthand that everyone in this world is worth something, whether or not we know it right now. We’ll always learn it when the time comes.”

She knelt down to pick up the fallen coffee cup, twisting the cap back on with a sigh.

“I am still hurt by everything you said and did to me those years ago, and I’m sure my friends are too. But living in the past won’t do anyone any good. We can only move forward now, and my question for you is; are you willing to?”

Every movement she made would be followed by that of his own eyes, carefully inspecting her by the very second. Everything about her had changed—for the better, it seemed. She was more bold, more willful. She had a stronger Heart. She even possessed the beauty of that of a grown woman, and he could not deny the fact that his attention was drawn towards every trait she carried about her now.

When she knelt, his gaze followed, and would later come back up, as she stood, eyes never leaving her own. It might have seemed that Ulquiorra was living in the past, but even to this day, he was still unsure why he lived on. Why he was brought back from the very depths of Hell—and as a human. Those questions and many more had gone unanswered for many months, and Ulquiorra sometimes questioned if he were to end his own life…would he still return? If not, what chance had he lost? A chance for what, specifically, though?

Are you willing to?

“You want me to move on, onna? Is that it? What makes you think I haven’t already done that? At any rate, there is nothing even now that I’ve to look forward upon. There has always been nothing. I’m more curious as to why you would ask such a thing of me. What are you trying to accomplish? If there is anything to move forward to, then show me. Show me—and guide me, onna.”

By now, people inside the bakery had begun to stare at the pair. Some had probably even seen her strike Ulquiorra. Hopefully her manager had seen as well, as she didn’t think this conversation was anywhere near, or would ever be near being over. She deposited the empty coffee cup into the trash and motioned for him to follow her to the bakery’s terrace, mouth set into a firm line. It was out of sight and earshot of most people and Orihime hoped the privacy might help clear her head a little.

Seeing Ulquiorra again, living and breathing and sulking the same as ever still hadn’t fully sunk in yet. She thought it impolite to ask how he’d come back, taking into account the way he’d died. But that didn’t stop the question from settling on her tongue.

Once they were alone, she turned and stared at him for a long time, deep in thought. How in the world was she ever supposed to reply to that? Orihime just could not think of a way. She’d put the past behind her, but that was not saying so had the rest of her friends. She already knew what the Soul Society would do if they caught word of Ulquiorra. Orihime had made peace, and had even been able to apologise for standing idle as he’d disintegrated, but she could not bring herself to think of how she’d feel if she turned her head away to let him face the same fate a second time.

“How…” she began uncertainly, “How long have you been here for Ulquiorra? Where have you been living? What have you been doing?”

As silent as she was, Ulquiorra still expected an answer of sorts. It didn’t matter what it was, so long as it lead him to where she wanted him to be. Ulquiorra felt the desire to be where she was, on a level of mental morality, at least. He wanted to better understand her logic, the Heart, her feelings… Aside from that, he had no peculiar interest with life here in Karakura.

Upon a more private place for them to converse, Ulquiorra would place his hands into his pockets, and lower his head ever so slightly. Yes, he was quite aware of the risk of residing within Karakura town; he would be killed on the spot should a shinigami recognize him. However, Ulquiorra was one to have quite a skill in keeping a low profile. Which was exactly why it was now that Orihime Inoue was just now seeing him in her place of home.

“About six months,” he responded. “And I’ve been living just as normally as you have, onna. I have obtained a job for the last couple of months…and a place of residence.”

As he spoke, feelings of surprise and disbelief began to show on her face. Yet even as her doubt rose, she knew that he did not lie. She knew he was adaptable, that he was the kind of man that could to whatever his mind told him. Orihime couldn’t stop the bad feelings from rising, but with them also came good. Happiness, relief, and most surprising of all, pride.

Ulquiorra may not have found a reason for marching on, but he’d done so nonetheless, and for that Orihime was proud.

“You work and you have a place to live…” It was mindboggling. But in a good way.

Where do you work? Where do you live? Do you have enough food?

More questions came to lie heavy on her tongue, and she suspected the same could have been said for him. Two individuals that’d been coaxed into servitude, held prisoner by the word of one man, now free. Separated by the years, torn apart and forced together by violence and war. She’d been strong then, but now she was even stronger, and so now was he. Instead of delving into the topics she would have liked to, Orihime instead opted to lighten the mood.

“Still calling me onna huh? That’s not very nice you know. I have a name.” Though he had clearly changed, she was glad to see the core of him remained.

Yes, he worked, and he had a home—if that was what you could call a small apartment complex, then you may believe so. However, he saw no reason to confirm her rhetorical statement—as it seemed to be. They were words that concluded their happening, the way Ulquiorra saw it, so, his figure would turn ever so slightly, eyes still lingering on her, head tilted so that he may gaze upon her properly still, and alas, words still came, and parted those pink lips of hers.

The fact she had commented on what he still chose to call her was found as unmotivating to speak of. Ulquiorra had no reason to explain his actions to her, more less why he called her what he did. In fact, she was the only girl to whom he would call onna. Nevertheless, he would answer her at last.

“I’m aware of your name. You needn’t remind me, onna,” he retorted lastly, then, turned his back to her completely. There was nothing left to discuss, for the time being, and it seemed to him she had places to be at the moment, and he would stall her no longer from progressing towards those places. With a silent farewell, Ulquiorra began to walk away.

"Ulquiorra…”

Her voice was soft, but no less beseeching. As she toyed with something to say, her mind began to wander. She’d let him go of course. Speak not a word of him to anyone. Aizen was gone, and there was no real threat posed by him being alive and here. She saw no reason to disrupt the balance of anything.

She thought his fate fitting. He’d called humans trash, and as recompense he now had to live as one.

Yet she could not help but worry. He’d probably assimilated, as it was plain in his dress and appearance, but his speech was like Rukia’s, still jarringly out of place for this time, and his knowledge of modern things might also be little. She could offer help, or tell him to never speak to her again, or listen to the whisper that begged her to tell him to stay.

 I’m not afraid.

“Will you come back sometime?” 

He stopped, only for a moment, and turned his head slightly. He met her gaze evenly, and blinked once, slowly. 

“If that is what you wish.”