To Lonewingwriter: You're the bomb, chica! I hope you can enjoy this trainwreck of a writing piece. Honestly, I have a lot to learn about AiHime.

This is what I was trying to write when I wrote "You Can Be My Hero". XD Gah, I'm crazy! Tried to make this more light-hearted. Yes, honestly, I do have a small grudge against Nnoitra because he's a chauvinist scum-sucker.

Hope you like this, and as of yesterday I still don't own Bleach. Damn!

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"Get out of the way, woman," Szayel sneered at her crouched form.

"Yeah, bitch! Move it or lose it!" Nnoitra's chalkboard-scraping voice caused Orihime's eye to twitch. She splayed her hands out, in an attempt to pick up the little pieces of food faster.

"Oooh," Tousen droned, adding to the line of men in the hallway. Behind him was Wonderweiss, who was pressing his face into the black man's back.

"Woman, honestly," the pink-haired Espada dared to whine in an exasperated tone. She scooped faster, holding the bowl in a shaking hand. The orangette bit her lip to keep from uttering a frightened cry. "I have to get back to my lab!"

"Is that so, Szayelapporo?" A deep voice from directly above Orihime caused her to freeze. Her face contorted to a deer-in-the-headlights expression before she looked up. Even without visual recognition, she knew exactly who the man towering over her was. Her hands were shaking, causing her to drop the bowl of shredded coconut again. "You have to?"

A dangerous smile played on Aizen's lips as he looked straight into the pair of shocked amber eyes. He had both hands in his pockets, which was a rather relaxed pose if Orihime had ever seen one. The single strand of brown hair wiggled between his ghostly brown eyes as he tilted his head.

"Take the long way, then. Orihime-san is going to take a while with this mess," he uttered delicately, watching the shorter man like a hawk. "Unless, you want to help her yourself? Many hands make light work, Octava-kun." By now, Tousen and Wonderweiss had wisely retreated in the opposite direction. Szayel struck a hurt pose, staring at the middle of his master's chest before turning quickly and hustling away.

"I hope you don't expect the same cowardice from me, Aizen-sama," Nnoitra raised a thin, black brow before cocking his head to the side. A wide, Cheshire smile split his face in two, revealing two rows of deadly teeth. His eye sparkled as he softly sucked up to the ex-shinigami.

Aizen returned the pleasant grin, "Of course not. I expect even more spinelessness from you, Nnoitra-kun. How about, you leave… or suffer?" In a flash, he was standing right next to the tall, dark man, looking up at him with the same apathetic smile.

Nnoitra's smile slowly withered into a slight scowl, and his eye no longer twinkled with the false admiration he had shown before. Instead, he remained silent at the man's request, offering a cold stare.

"Are you gonna punish me like you punish this bitch? She's a damn who-" Aizen's overwhelming reiatsu forced Nnoitra to choke on his words, falling against the wall. The eyepatch smeared against the cold surface, and the twisted sneer deepened. The lanky man was less than pleased, and wormed around to wipe a lock of greasy black hair from his disgruntled face.

"Right, Aizen-sama," he grunted, wiggling away from the remaining people in the hallway. His retreating form brought up a feeling of deep gratitude inside the teen, and she turned pink.

"A-a-a," his name failed to grace her lips, and she scrunched her eyes in irritation. Should she thank him? He was the evil mastermind behind everything here… but he had helped her out of a puny situation. "Ai-"

"It was not an act of charity, Orihime-san," the man cut her off, removing a hand from his pocket. She blinked, trying to piece things together in her mind. "God has to maintain the harmony in Hell once in a while."

That same hand reached down to grip her elbow and pull her up quickly. The lonely bowl, which had been spilled nearly thrice in the span of five minutes, sat tipped over on its side. The shreds of sweet white coconut were splashed around a certain spot on the smooth grey floor. Orihime turned to attempt to pick it up, but Aizen stopped her by gently gripping her other wrist with his long-fingered hand. She almost flinched at the contact, and his mere presence forced her to look him in the eyes.

"Leave it to a Fraccion," he ordered, but didn't release her.

"Yes, A-Aizen-sama," she cursed herself for tripping over his name yet again. He unclamped his hands, leaving cold spots on her arm and wrist. Without so much as a glance, he spun and disappeared into thin air. Air surged back into her lungs as the heavy reiatsu diminished along with its owner. Pants echoed in the now empty hallway, and Orihime wobbled down the hallway on weak legs. She managed to get herself into her own hallway, oblivious to the brown eye that was still watching her.

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Orihime wrapped the thin blanket around her shoulders tighter as she sat up. Pieces of orange hair obscured her vision, and her steel eyes blinked slowly. She had been sleeping dreamlessly; quite an uneventful night indeed… not that it was a surprise in a place like Hueco Mundo. The woman lazily looked around the bleak room, a small part of her hoping something had changed about the dull interior. Unimpressed and slightly disappointed, she shivered and lay back down on the stiff couch.

A slightly less stiff pillow was under her head, and she flipped around to bury her face into the side of the cushion. The fake moonlight was pouring in, causing her to cover her eyes with one blanket-covered fist. Shutting her eyes tighter wasn't helping, so she left them open to stare at the white pillow. Orihime was left without the solace of slumber. The first thing that crossed her mind was food. She was hungry, even hungrier than she normally was. But she was left to wait for her breakfast to be brought by her heartless babysitter.

That would be hours from now, though. Until then, she could only fill the hole in her stomach with homesick thoughts of her and Tatsuki's culinary adventures. Her eyelids hooded the tops of her eyes, and she sighed into the fabric, letting it cling even closer to her nearly shivering form.

She was quaking almost as much as before. When that terrifying man had, for once, done something nice for her… it had given her this undeniable shudder. Her heart felt like it was going to beat its way out of her chest. The fear flowing through her veins started to curdle as she remembered his terrifying demeanor.

Orihime felt a slight wave of confusion and nausea pass over her. For anyone else, she would thank them for saving her. For anyone else,

but him.

How could she possibly thank him when he had practically ordered her to not let it get to her head? Had he even meant it? He would have done the same for anyone else in Hueco Mundo. Aizen would have protected them.

At that phrase, she stopped. Her brain slowly geared down, and her eyes shut completely. Protected? She was the only one in Hueco Mundo that needed to be protected. She was weak. She was the enemy. She was a prisoner, for God's sake.

She twitched her nose as she came to the conclusion of his strange behavior. Orihime wrapped the blanket even tighter than before, effectively shutting off both the cold air and most of her comfortable breathing.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a feeling of strong warmth embraced her back, keeping everything from the back of her head to her heels very warm. She opened her eyes and wiggled quickly from side to side, unraveling her thin blanket.

On top of her blanket was another, much thicker one. It was very warm, and as she held it to her face, she noticed the faint smell of candles. The orangette wrapped it around herself vivaciously before shuffling onto her side. With this pose, her eyes fell to the yellow crack across from her. Her door was open.

Someone had given her this blanket. They were polite, yes, but certainly didn't want anyone (including herself) to know. She ran an escaped hand through her hair, getting it out of her face as she sat up. The blanket folded crisply around where Orihime ended and the couch began. Her small, soft feet touched the cold floor, and she almost winced from the temperature drop. The woman stood, flinging the thick layer around her body in a desperate manner before padding over to the door. It was barely cracked open, a single beam of light shining in from the hall. Her hand pushed against the door, but she stopped.

Was this on purpose? Had they wanted her to escape into the hall? But she had nowhere to go. She had nowhere to run to and hide. And she had every reason to stay rather than die and kill all of her friends with her.

With a frown, she closed the door with a heavy, sad click. Her toe pressed against something, and she bent down (which was rather difficult, considering she had a thick piece of cloth around her) and picked it off. Following closer examination, she found it was a coconut flake.

That's right. From earlier that day, when she had foolishly spilled that entire bowl in the crowded walkway. The flake must have clung to her dress or her hands. Quickly looking down into the blanket, she found another flake of coconut sticking to the fluffy fibers.

A quick turn and blink of her grey eyes stopped her heart.

He was there.

He was. There.

In her room.

Right there.

Orihime gasped, shocked at seeing his reclined form. His feet dangled off the end of the couch, with hands folded behind his head. A small shriek formed in the back of her throat, but before her mouth got the message to open, he was on her.

He pressed a long, slender finger against her soft, sweet lips. A smirked danced across his thin mouth, and his brown eyes seemed to dazzle in the moonlight.

Sweat started to form on her forehead again, and on her palms. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, reaching to get away.

"Shhh," Aizen's voice was barely audible above the beating of her caged heart. "Shhhh."

The breaths out of her nose were starting to condense on the tip of his finger. As he towered over her, she squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she could and imagined him gone. Her breathing slowed, but when she opened her eyes, Orihime found he had leaned down to look her in the eye. She turned bright red in embarrassment; he had managed to corner her like a cat does a mouse.

Without warning, he wrapped his large arms around her, pulling her face into his clavicle. She let out a small gasp from being freed from his digit prison, and opened her mouth.

But, the words wouldn't come. She though for seconds after seconds about what she could possibly say about this awkward and horrifying situation, but her lips hung silently.

"Silence," he insisted, holding her still. The moonlight peeked around Aizen's tendril, and she looked up. He had tilted his chin to rest on top of her head, and she felt her shoulders bend inward. She was tired, still hungry, and now scared to death. His deep, sultry voice hummed, and with his throat pressed up against her cheek, it felt comforting.

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Orihime's eyes snapped open. She was lying on her white couch, face pressed into the pillow at an oddly comfortable angle. Her fingernails, however, were buried in her upper arms. She retracted and looked over the red crescent-moons on her skin. Her arms were kept crossed, however, because she was cold.

The fluffy blanket, if there ever was one, was gone. The frantic woman stood quickly to look over at the closed door. The floor was clean. She peeled away the blanket; no coconut shreds.

"Wha…" her word died off before she found her breath again. Orihime flopped down on the couch, picking up the pillow to hold in her chilly arms.

With this movement, she saw a small piece of paper. It wasn't very pronounced; in fact, the white color made it almost impossible to notice against the fabric of the sofa. She tentatively swiped it up, holding it in both hands to look at. The single crease that folded it in half was crisp and exact, almost machine-like. It was blank on both sides.

She knew if she opened it she would find something bad.

But deep in her mind, she couldn't push down the cheery thought that it might be an "IOU" from the tooth faerie. Or… would it be coconut faerie? Maybe the cleaning faerie had come to collect her debt from over the years.

Sadly, her guess was correct, and when she opened it, her eyes widened and her lips parted.

'I will collect what is mine.'

Some pervert had left her a note? The smart part of her brain, hidden under the majority of the grey mass, knew better, however. It decided to speak up and let her know that she knew who it would be from.

That was so stupid, though. It was just a dream; nothing really happened in real life. She was the only one that knew about her dreams, after all. HE couldn't have possibly left this note because HE wasn't actually there last night. That warmth he had given her for those brief moments, the way he had held her in only the light of the moon, was all part of her overactive imagination.

The comfort she had felt, standing there with his arms around her, was all fiction.

Now she just had to convince herself all of what she was thinking was the truth.

The soft knock on the thick door helped her brain escape from its own torture chamber. Without her consent, not that it was needed, it popped open and a black-covered head appeared.

"Woman, breakfast," Ulquiorra said, his green eyes only shining because of the fake sun's light. The tray he held with both hands had an envelope on it, instead of the usual plate of food.

"Ulquiorra-san," Orihime muttered, arching her eyebrows in confusion. She had tried eating paper before; it wasn't very tasty without a good helping of bean paste. "What is that for?"

"Aizen-sama requests you read it immediately," the Cuatro responded, putting his hands in his pockets as the orange-haired woman picked up the paper delicately. That word struck a chord in her… he requests, not orders? She slid her finger under the white fold. It sprung open to a full sheet of paper.

It was completely blank except for the single sentence in the middle. It was written in the most beautiful handwriting she thought she would ever see, and Orihime bit her lip in anguish.

"You are to eat breakfast with me in my chamber," she read it aloud to her captor, who blinked without much emotion. Of all the things he could have done – did he have to be this obvious? Maybe this was his way of playing with her even more; maybe he liked to play with his food before he tore it to pieces and gulped it down.

"Hurry up then, woman," his black lip protruded over the grey lip in an impatient grimace. "Aizen-sama doesn't want to spend his eternity waiting for trash." That sentence was doing wonders on her nerves, and she managed to hold in the sweat forming at her hairline. She stood, still not as tall as Ulquiorra, and followed his sleek stride out into the hallway.

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When they arrived to the set of ridiculously large doors that were stretching for the heavens, Ulquiorra rapped his monochromatic knuckles on the door.

"You may enter," Aizen's cool voice sounded from the other side. The bat obeyed, tilting his head into a slight bow as he swung open the door.

Brown eyes looked up from the setting on the kotatsu, and little creases appeared under them as he looked over the teen. She shivered for two reasons; one being the thought of sitting under the kotatsu would finally heat her frozen bones, and the other the feeling he was undressing her with his eyes.

But he wasn't. He wasn't the romantic, or even lustful, sort of person. It was all part of his plan, she repeated to herself as her only chance of escape looked back with green eyes and disappeared from the room.

"Please, have a seat… Orihime," the drop of the respectful suffix made her heart skip a beat. The way he had said her name made her flinch, and she noticed he was gesturing to a spot directly next to him. The orangette had to reject him the pleasure somehow, and at the same time extend her lifespan. She chose to fold her legs under the table 180 degrees across from him. His gaze didn't waver; instead, he picked up the apparently heavy tea kettle with his left hand and grabbed a small cup with his right. The trickle of tea coming out of the spout steamed a bit before settling in the pretty cup. This, he handed to her gently. Hesitating for only a moment, the woman gripped it in her thin fingers and set it in front of herself. Aizen poured himself a cup as well, and took a soft sip. His eyes went from the bottom of the cup at his lips to her face, and she held back a flush.

He was no longer being scary, she noted diffidently, but quite awkward. Where was the dialogue? He most likely wanted to get information-

"Orihime," the second time he said her name didn't shock her as greatly as the first. Aizen continued, "good morning."

"G-Good morning," she responded briskly, drinking a bit of her own tea. "Aizen-sama." The hot liquid raced down her throat and warmed her from the inside out.

"If it makes you more comfortable, you don't have to address me as such," the curl between his eyes swayed as he tilted his head coyly. "I think Sousuke-sama rolls off the tongue better."

Was that an order? She had no idea, so she shyly shook her head, which was still spinning from the whole ordeal.

"Really, I prefer Aizen-sama," she said quietly, shifting her weight to the other folded leg. Something inside her whispered, 'You prefer him over his hellhounds, you mean.' She felt like slapping a palm against her face, and resisted the urge by folding her hands on her lap. He waved a hand in a nonchalant manner, offering a gentle smirk as he reached for the silver platter.

"Whatever suits you," Aizen pulled the top off of the plate, revealing the food hidden underneath. Orihime's eyes were the size of saucers as she looked at the array of crackers, spreads, cheeses, fruits, and godknows whatever was squeezed onto the plate.

"Do you… normally eat this for breakfast?" The question slipped out of her mouth before she could screw it shut. He raised an eyebrow, mouth slightly parted in preparation for the slice of Havarti poised in front of it. The sight of him brought up the image of baby birds getting a fat worm from the momma bird, and Orihime bit her lip to shove the smile back down her throat.

The baby bird removed the white cheese from his soft lips (had she noticed those before?) before letting the smallest of smiles grace them.

"I don't normally eat breakfast," he pointed out in a deep tone. The wedge vanished into his waiting mouth.

Oh. Damn, that was a stupid question. She had chosen to take a leap of chance that he wanted conversation, and she started it with that? She remembered how little Matsumoto and Hitsugaya ate when they were staying at her house. The teen couldn't hide her pink cheeks as she reached for a piece of food as well. Orihime watched the smooth lines of his chin and neck move up and down with each chew, and his Adam's apple cycle around as he swallowed. Before she could look away, his chocolate orbs opened and met her heather ones. A slick, pink tip darted out of his mouth to lick his fingertips, and he raised a sleek eyebrow in amusement.

"Are you enjoying the view?" Aizen joked, and snatched up a slice of plum to bite into. He downed it with a sip of tea and a few crackers. The flustered woman couldn't reply, as the words in her mind had been wiped clean with the rest of it.

"No need to crawl back into your shell," he said lightly, pulling the smaller, still covered plate closer to its larger counterpart. "It's only a breakfast between comrades."

"Comrades?" When had she picked up this habit of repeating the last word he said? She was slowly becoming his soft-spoken echo.

"Yes, Orihime. Synonyms include: friends, buddies, pals, chums," his deep voice was wedging itself in her still-empty mind. "Mates." The playful look in his eyes was ripping out her heart and using a cheese grater on it. His charisma was starting to smother her; she felt a strong need to be as close to him as possible and listen to that voice for hours.

But her need to reject him proved stronger yet again.

"I am but a subordinate in your wicked plot, Aizen-sama," her response was an attempt to stab a hot poker into his undeniable charm. The evil vortex known as Aizen Sousuke was slowly sucking her in, and she was swimming desperately to get away. He unveiled the smaller plate, which was full of aromatic cheesecakes.

"You are correct, Orihime," he confirmed this, but the twinge in her stomach was unquestionable. Maybe being someone's slave wasn't at the top of her to-do list for life. Maybe, deep down, she wanted to be more to him than a mat to wipe his devious feet on.

"But for now," Aizen picked up a slice and held it up to her mouth. Before she could question his action, he whispered, "Have a bite, my dear." She licked her dry lips nervously, perching her mouth in front of the cake.

"Yes, Aizen-sama."

The flavor exploded into her mouth, causing her eyes to close. She took another huge bite out of it, and she could tell, even with closed eyes, that he was smiling sadistically. He was controlling her just another way; using her only to toss her away.

"Please don't eat the whole thing," he said, pulling it away to shove the rest into his own mouth. He spoke around the bits of cool cheesecake, "I like it too."

His cheeks were puffed out like a squirrel, and he quickly chewed and swallowed his large bite. The brown eyes she had feared for so long twinkled with delight.

Orihime laughed loudly. The expression on his face; the elated kid in a candy store, the baby bird with the biggest chunk of worm was too much. She laughed and laughed, making her voice echo around the room. She held her sides as she fell forward onto the table. Her cheek pressed against the wood, and still she didn't stop. A hand snaked its way up to cover her mouth and tiny tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

"My, my," he said, leaning forward on his table-nested elbows to look at his hysterical guest. "I didn't know I could be so amusing, Orihime."

She quieted at this, raising her head just a tad to look at him. The woman had laughed in his face; not what she had planned to do when she woke up this morning. She had openly mocked her terrifying abductor.

Smooth move, Orihime.

"I… I am so sorry, Aizen-sama," she said, bowing her flushed face. "I shouldn't have laughed. The sugar just ran to my head and my crazy-senses started tingling and-"

Orihime was sitting in his lap, with her arms resting on either side of his legs. When had-

"Do not fret," his intensely low voice sprung from the warm chest pressed against her back. "I will let it go, this time."

His arms looped under hers and he placed his large palms on her knees.

"Aizen-sama?" Her voice squeaked, and she attempted a speedy escape. Once on her feet, he snatched her sleeve and tugged her down. Desperate to get away from his overpowering charm, she tore free of his surprisingly delicate hold and stepped back. Her calf smashed into the kotatsu, and she jerked forward to prevent falling in the food. The woman wobbled face-first towards the evil ex-shinigami, eyes wide with surprise as she rolled.

When she stopped tumbling, she looked up into Aizen's neck. She had fallen back into his lap, pushing them both on the ground. His hands hovered a few inches away from her back, not daring to touch the dizzy female.

"O-o-oh no! Ah," she was on all fours now, sweating profusely and stuttering in an extremely nervous manner. "I should just go back to my room now, Aizen-sama. I'm only causing trouble." But a firm grip on her upper arm kept her bent over him. The man sat up on his elbow, holding her firmly.

"I haven't permitted you to leave, Orihime," his cold tone stuck her in her place. Aizen released her arm, only to seize the back of her neck. At once, she understood his intentions. Why he had appeared in that dream (had it even been a dream from the start?), why he invited her to breakfast, and why he was acting so awkwardly warm to her.

"Aizen-sama," Orihime said, still rigid with her refreshed sense of fear. "Please stop trying to seduce me."

"You are too arrogant for a prisoner," he pushed the smaller woman off of him, returning to a sitting position. Tumbling to his side, Orihime grunted as her arm smacked into the kotatsu. "I am not trying to seduce you."

No, her predictions had been wrong? Was that really a dream, then? Was she the one trying to seduce him? She was in for it now; he would snap her neck as soon as she had served her purpose.

"I'm succeeding in seducing you."

He snatched her shoulder and pulled her to him. His lips planted a heavy kiss below her ear, and she gulped and flailed away from him.

"It's only after I show affection that the pawn runs away?" Aizen was extremely satisfied, and it showed through his playful aura.

"Aizen-sama, that's exactly what I am," Orihime argued, still backing away and crab-walking around the table. "Just a pawn."

"But a pawn can become a queen if they get to the other side of the board safely," the brown-haired man countered, following the rattled girl around the table. It sounded like a threat; something that made Orihime more alarmed than before.

"You're delirious! You're pulling a nasty joke!" She cried. Her back bumped against the wall next to the table, and she cringed as he got closer. Every movement resembled a hungry lion approaching an injured gazelle. She could already imagine his fangs tearing out her throat.

"Now, Orihime, do I seem like the type of person to joke around when there is business to be done?"

She shook her head, burying it in utter terror as he placed his knees on either side of her ankles. The woman looked up from her knees into his smoldering gaze.

"What do you want from me?" The whisper fell from her lips and he offered her a slow, sultry blink.

"You promised me your heart," he said simply, also in a low voice. He remained where he was, just looking at her, and she felt herself flush. She had in fact promised him the thing going wild in her chest right now; it was something that couldn't be denied or taken back. What the girl didn't know, however, was how he would use that vow in this situation. The only thing left to do was sift for loopholes.

"Everyone in Hueco Mundo has given you their everything," she said, turning away from his softening expression.

"But none are as entertaining or," his fingers pulled a piece of her orange hair up to his lips to kiss. "Quite as lovely, Orihime."

Her body shuddered at the gentle contact, and her own thin fingers rose to touch just above his eyebrow. Releasing the tress, Aizen cupped her hand in his own to graze his lips over their white knuckles. The pads of her fingers tapped on his forehead before surging back into his silky hair. She was so afraid; afraid of his power, even his charm. Orihime never knew what to do when she was near him.

Now, she wouldn't know what to do without him within arm's reach.

His thumbs traced over the front of her shoulder, down the sides of her breasts. He kissed her shoulder and planted one after the other as he went up her bust. The final kiss was on her forehead, between her eyebrows. Her grey eyes were hooded and fogged with lust and confusion. Orihime looked at him from behind her eyelashes. The unwavering serenity on his face would normally unnerve her, but as she laid her head on his chest, she felt the comfort she remembered from the night before.

"Why did you come to my room last night?" The question was inevitable, and she was desperate for an answer.

"I wanted to confirm my speculations," the voice coming from the same chest that held his black heart was warming her face. Her arms, tight around his torso, were gripping the white fabric on his back dearly. She knew what he was referring to. Before he would move his piece on the chess board, he had to make sure it was willing to be manipulated. Aizen had to be certain the pawn would fall for the king.

His strong arms were encasing her body, holding her against him so intensely she was certain she would be fused there. She was finally warm, and she tried to draw him as close to her body as she could. It was okay, just this once, to admit she wasn't afraid.

"My dear," Aizen dared to use a pet name. He pulled away, causing Orihime's whole body to feel quite cold.

"Yes, Aizen-sama?" She felt like she was floating. All of these emotions that had been bothering her before had been chased away by his tender embrace. The edges of her mind had turned soft, and she was now seeing everything through rose-tinted lenses. The god opened his mouth, his eyes melting into the gentlest look she could imagine. He leaned down, and their noses almost touched.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Aizen's head turned menacingly to look at the cursed barrier.

"Enter."

Ulquiorra did as he obeyed, and passed through the threshold into the chamber.

"Aizen-sama, it's been an hour. Szayel requires your presence in the lab as soon as possible and," he eyed the orange-haired woman, who by now was staring at him with an odd expression. "The woman needs to be returned to her room by eleven."

"I see, thank you Ulquiorra," Aizen nodded, gesturing toward the minion in an attempt to herd Orihime over to the door. She moved without any hint of the comfort she had felt before. It was all part of their game; it had to be a secret. Something rang inside her, warning her she was swimming in dangerous waters.

Soon enough, she was trailing her captor down the dreary hallway toward her prison. The delicate piece of paper crumpled in her hand was unfolded quietly with quick glances as Orihime read the beautiful sentence.

'We will have breakfast tomorrow as well, my dear.'

How long could they play this game before a pawn had to be sacrificed? She was starting to doubt her ability to make it all the way across the board. Her nakama had to save her before she got too sucked into his allure.

But these negative thoughts barely crossed her mind as she held the note up to hide her smile.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

[[Edit: I've gone back and fixed those little glitches. Thank you for all your kind reviews! Please, leave a review with your thoughts. Fave this if you loved it. Thank you for reading.

This was supposed to be a oneshot, but I promised people that I would write a second chapter, which will be posted within the next 24 hours.]]