Once again, it seemed the Aizen-sama had overestimated things. Urquiola brushed into the apartment. It was locked, but that hadn't been a problem. He didn't fault the shinigami for it. He could never fault the shinigami for it. It was caution that had allowed Aizen-sama to deceive his former comrades for so long. It was caution that had proven a better defense than any kidou or shield.

But Urquiola did not admire Aizen-sama primarily for his caution. The man he served was powerful and wise. The man he served was the pinnacle of movement, the one reason hollows had been able to gather and strengthen as a whole, banding together as one, instead of many. But, even if that caution had enabled him to survive to be able to do that, Urquiola despised what that lead to.

The quincy's bed wasn't hard to find in the small apartment, nor was the sleeping form, curled on its side, long fingers slightly bent, dark hair settling loosely against a boyish cheek. He wore a pale blue nightshirt, slightly unfastened in sleep, the slight silver glint of snaps evident in the slight moonlight that filtered in from the still open window, shining bright in the darkness of the room. From beneath it, a firm, but pale expanse of chest, not fully matured, but still branded with a shape that might seem foreign to even the experts of the shinigami, half obscured by the fabric.

This was the one Aizen-sama had sent him for, one of the ones who had breeched the Soul Society in search of the hougyoku's shinigami shell. He frowned, brushing the sheets aside. Killing him here would be so easy. He was so powerless. So powerless and worthless to Aizen-sama. Aizen-sama didn't need any more Grimmjaws.

What was next? Taking the girl with such strange powers? Or taking the one whose arm Yammy had destroyed? Worthless. There was no need to look into them when Aizen-sama had such a powerful army at his beck and call. The was no need to look to these mortals when he had his Espada. There was no need to look into this quincy when he had Urquiola. He'd show Aizen-sama that this one wasn't needed any more than Kurosaki Ichigo had been.

Urquiola lifted a pale hand to wrap around his hilt and only a light flash prevented him from missing the bright blue flash of light. The quincy was upright, breath faster than usual, surprised, but not bleary as one might be from sleep. How long had he been awake? Urquiola hadn't noticed a change in his breathing pattern since entering. He might have been awake the entire time.

The second arrow was already between the quincy's hands and aimed directly at him. Urquiola lifted his eyes to focus on cool blue ones, darker, deeper, and clearer than his sibling's. Blue eyes narrowed, "What business do you have here, hollow?"

Urquiola scowled, "It's obvious, is it not? Aizen-sama has already expressed interest in one of your companions. He believes you will be of use as well." The energy of the arrow was flickering a bit, drawing in his own reiatsu.

Green eyes flickered just a bit. Curious. So that was the power of the quincy?

"Your 'master' has no business in poking into the affairs of mortals," Ishida pressed.