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Urahara's Arrancar Rehabilitation Center	By : KaiBlueOtaku Category: Bleach > General Views: 1612 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: DISCLAIMER: Bleach and all its characters are owned by the talented Tite Kubo. I own only my story, and am merely borrowing them to tell it. I receive no payment for my writing.

Chapter List
- 1-Urahara's Arrancar Rehabilitation Center
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
  “Oh Ulqui-kun! How was your…” Orihime’s sing-song tone trailed off as school books slipped out of her hands and clattered to the floor. “…day?” Her face was a mask of shock and terror as she came through the door into Kisuke’s dining room to find Ulquiorra and the shop keeper seated with none other than Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Her mind flashed back to the last time she saw him, fighting with Kurosaki in Hueco Mundo, and all the traumatic memories of those days came upon her in a torrential, paralyzing rush.

                “Inoue-san, do come in! How was your day?” Kisuke inquired. “Please, come have some tea with us. We were just discussing the terms and conditions of Grimmjow’s stay here.”

                Her wariness was evident, all but palpable to everyone in the room and she sat at the table across from the blue-haired Ex-Espada. He regarded her with a sidelong smirk, and a long, quiet, uncomfortable moment fell over the room.

                Grimmjow wheeled then on her, slamming his palms down on the table, shouting, “BOO!” Tea sloshed from cups onto the table, and Ulquiorra gave him a bone-chilling glare as Orihime shrank in her seat.

                “Tch. That’s exactly the sort of thing I was talking about, Grimmjow,” Kisuke scolded over Grimmjow’s maniacal laugher. “You’re not in Las Noches anymore. These aren’t Arrancar you’ll be dealing with, they’re humans. You’re going to have to lean some social skills, and how to get along with people.”

                Grimmjow’s laughter subsided, and he wiped a tear from his eyes. “Eh, ok, I was just kidding.” He grinned at Orihime, who was still cowering slightly, and would not look at him. Ulquiorra scooted closer to her, putting his arm protectively around her and staring Grimmjow down. He could feel the seething hatred of the Cuatra’s Reitsu as he restrained himself from dishing out the sort of punishment such insubordination had once warranted. The anger that Grimmjow saw in him though was not due to the disrespectful behavior itself he realized, so much as who it had been directed at. This gave him a slight pang in his chest. “Geez guys, I’m sorry.” He averted his gaze, feeling sad suddenly, seeing the two of them there together like that. “I’m sorry, Orihime,” he added, almost inaudibly.

                She was taken aback by this, and peered at his face, seeing sincere pain there. “It’s ok, Grimmjow.” He hadn’t been expecting that, and wondering shock replaced his pain. Orihime forced a cheery smile. “I know this is going to be hard for you. In Hueco Mundo, there was always a sense of ranking. But humans don’t try to be above or below anyone, we try to be equals. It will be a challenge for you, but if you’ll take our help, we’d like to teach you.”

                A reverent hush came over the room, and Orihime’s words, wise beyond her years, cut deeply to the heart of the matter. His face softened, and he gave a slight nod, full of tentative hope. She extended her hand to him, and he shook it, a genuine smile on both their faces this time.

                “It looks like we’ll have to come up with a curriculum,” Urahara pondered, the tip of his fan pressed against his lips thoughtfully.

                “Curriculum?” Orihime repeated, confused.

                “Rehabilitation, my dear,” the shop keeper said. “They have to learn to be productive members of society. Jaegerjaquez-san here specifically seems to need some anger management and sensitivity training. They all will need basic skills courses, to learn how to care for their human bodies, so we don’t have a relapse of poor Ulquiorra’s malady from yesterday… By the way, how did you sleep last night, Cifer-san?”

                Ulquiorra saw Orihime’s eyes drop to the table and she fiddled nervously with of one of the tea cups as a pink blush spread over her cheeks. “Fine,” he said, remembering his night on the couch, and her blush deepened.

                “Oh, excellent. I asked Miss Inouse-san to be sure to let you get a few good nights’ sleep. You seem to have been suffering from sexual over-exertion in addition to the rest of you troubles, and…” Urahara stopped as Orihime stood, her face aflame, and bashfully excused herself, hiding behind her hands.

                So that was what he told her, Ulquiorra realized, remembering the whispered portion of the conversation he’d heard the previous day. It also explained his night on the sofa. He stood and bowed curtly. “I will return tomorrow, Urahara-san. Thank you for your hospitality.”

                Kisuke smiled, waving dismissively with his fan. “Oh, of course, Cifer-san! Any friend of Inoue-san’s is a friend of mine…”

                Grimmjow watched with some trepidation as Ulquiorra gave him a parting nod, and left.

                “Well, let’s get you a room set up. We can find you a more permanent place to live sometime down the road, but you can stay here at the shop for a while.” Urahara stood, and led Grimmjow to a small room. There was a mattress rolled up against one wall, and sparse furnishings. “It’s not much, but it will do for now,” the shop keeper offered with a smile.

                Grimmjow was surprised. This whole strange adventure was unexpected, especially the undeniable kindness he had seen in these humans, when he was so far from deserving of it. “Thank you,” he managed to mumble, but was beginning to feel a little choked up. There were a lot of emotions running through him now that he wasn’t used to dealing with, and it was a little overwhelming. Anger, he was accustomed to. That was his primary response to anything before, in Las Noches, where power was everything. Ulquiorra’s woman was right, he thought to himself. I feel like I’m struggling for rank. Trying to top somebody, or figure out who’s above me. This is going to take some getting used to.

                “I’ll let you get settled in. Feel free to explore the shop later, or if you’d like Tessai can show you around. I have got some work to attend to for now, so I’ll see you around dinner time.” With that, the shop keeper excused himself, and Grimmjow was alone.

                He wasn’t sure what qualified as “settling in,” since he didn’t have any belongings, but he unrolled the mattress and made the bed neatly. Then, bored, he lay down to take a nap.

                While he slept, he dreamed. He was in an orchard, and it was the blackest, moonless night. The darkness pressed heavily from all sides, and bone-chilling cold shot through him. In the distance, he could see a light, so he began to move toward it. The branches reached out and scratched at his skin and clothing as he passed, his shoes crunching dead leaves covered in frost underfoot. Getting closer, he could see that the light was actually a campfire, but the flames were the same color as his own Reitsu. On the other side of the fire from where he stood, he saw a person huddled in a cloak. In the flickering light, he peered beneath the hood and could see it was…

                “Hallibel…” His voice was swallowed by the darkness, and she seemed to not hear him. She was in a deep state of meditation, focusing intently on the leaping flames before her, oblivious to the surrounding world. Her hand was outstretched, reaching into the fire, but she was not burned by it. Her fingers were closed around a length of chain that lay in the center of the flames, which seemed to come out of the ground.

                He stood watching her for some time, but she never moved, frozen in place, transfixed, her focus unwavering. He realized suddenly that she was softly humming a wordless tune, but he felt somehow that she’d been singing it all along, only that he couldn’t hear it before now.

                The song was the most beautiful thing Grimmjow had ever heard in his entire existence. It made his heart leap wildly in his chest, his pulse racing, his blood quickening. It was strangely familiar to him, but something about it sounded exotic and ancient, a song from long before time. He felt as though she were calling to him in some name that only she knew, that even he himself had not known belonged to him. He started in slowly, humming along with her now and again at the parts that seemed the most familiar to him. Every note, every point of discord or harmony, seemed perfectly balanced, and he felt at peace in a way he had never known before.

                She turned her head then, and looked over her shoulder. Though it had gone unnoticed before, Grimmjow could see now that the sky was graying over distant hills. “The dawn is coming,” Hallibel whispered breathily, her voice heavy with hope.

                Her voice echoed in his ears as Grimmjow opened his eyes, the last beautiful strains of her song still clinging in his mind but dissipating all too quickly, like tendrils of smoke on the wind. His heart ached at the loss of it, but he struggled to shake it off as he stood and stretched. It was much later than he had intended, and he realized he may have regrettably slept through dinner. He padded through the back rooms of the store, looking for a kitchen, or someone who could direct him.

                She lay on a table, and his breath hitched in his throat at the sight of her. Urahara had explained the principal of the Gigai to him, but it could not have prepared him for this.

                Hallibel’s essence had been captured perfectly. Her skin, the color of hot sand, was flawless. Her sun-bleached hair was exactly as he recalled the last time he’d seen her. Grimmjow looked on from the doorway, and part of him leered at the sight of her in nothing but a sheet. A thought briefly flitted through his mind of taking advantage of her while she was completely incapacitated like this, but it was quickly replaced by the memory of his dream, and he could all but hear the last fading strains of her haunting song. He realized it was only a body, and without her inside it, it seemed meaningless and empty to take such liberties.

                He walked into the room quietly, and stood over the Gigai, staring into its face. She seemed almost dead, like this. He reached his hand out, watching her eyes warily as though she were just about to awake, and grab his wrist defensively. His thumb hovered cautiously over her lips, and he caressed them with a soft touch as he parted them slightly. There. Now she looks like she’s just sleeping, he thought with self-satisfaction. His fingertips brushed her cheek with a tenderness that was strange and new to him, coming from a place that he had never known before today. “Goodnight, Hallibel,” he whispered. “See you tomorrow.”

///////////

                “Hey, Urahara-san!”

                Grimmjow furrowed his brows, angry at being awakened by the loud calls of someone looking for the shop keeper. He rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head, trying to escape back into blissful slumber. The footsteps in the hallway stopped, and he heard his door slide open. “Oi, Urahara-san?” the voice called.

                Grimmjow yanked the pillow off his head and cracked an eye up at the dumbstruck figure of Ichigo Kurosaki, standing slack-jawed in the doorway. “There’s a thing they just invented, it’s called ‘knocking,’ you should try it, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow snarled.

                “G-Grimmjow?” Ichigo was still in shock, not able to wrap his head around what his eyes were telling him.

                Grimmjow stretched lazily, and grinned up at Ichigo with a glint of mischief in his eye. “After you get out of classes today, you should come back, and we can spar. I always did enjoy fighting with you, and now I’ve got all the time in the world.” He remembered what Urahara had told him the day before, and he added, “Not to the death, of course. Just for fun. Unless you’re too much of a chicken.”

                Ichigo nearly jumped out of his skin as the shop keeper clapped him firmly on the shoulder from behind. “Oh, good morning, Kurosaki-san! I see you’ve found Grimmjow.” Urahara looked past Ichigo into the room, and spoke to the man lying there in the bed. “Breakfast is ready.”

                “Thanks,” Grimmjow called after him, standing and giving a huge yawn and stretching again. “Oi, Ichigo, it’s rude to stare,” he told the orange-haired teen, poking his finger into Ichigo’s eye.

                “OW!! What the hell?!” Ichigo grabbed his face and hopped around in pain. “What did you do that for?”

                “I’m hungry, dammit,” Grimmjow snapped. “I missed dinner last night, and you’re standing in my way. Now move.”

                “It would have been better to have said, ‘Excuse me,’” a voice called, and Ichigo turned and stared in astonishment as Ulquiorra and Orihime came up behind him. “I think Urahara-san needs to work with you today on your manners,” Ulquiorra told Grimmjow, who was standing with his arms crossed pensively.

                “Good morning, Kurosaki-kun!” Orihime said brightly, though her face betrayed her. She realized she’d been had; her big secret was out, and now she was going to have to spill the beans to everybody. Of all the people who had to find out first, why him? Orihime wondered. It’s going to be hard enough to tell the others, but… She looked at Ichigo, whom she used to have such a crush on, and realized it was only awkward in her own mind. He had never really had feelings for her; not in the same way, anyhow. He was protective of her, but he was that way with all his friends. That was part of his nature, just as being cheerful and sweet was such a large part of hers. She wound her fingers in Ulquiorra’s and took a deep breath. “Um, I know this is kind of… A surprise...”

                “Wait…” Ichigo held his hand out to stop her. “Do I want to know this? This has been a really strange morning, and I’m expecting to wake up from this weird dream any minute.”

                “It wasn’t a dream.”

                They all turned to see Hallibel leaning in the doorway, draped in nothing but a white sheet. She was staring intently at Grimmjow, and his eyes widened, wondering at the significance of her words.

                “Good morning, Hallibel!” Orihime said with a smile. “Welcome back.”

                The Tres gave a solemn nod of thanks to the other woman, and then turned to Ichigo. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep him in line,” she told the Shinigami, motioning to Grimmjow, whose face grew hot with indignation.

                “Hey now, what the hell?” he snapped, taking a menacing step toward her. She looked severely at him, and straightened her shoulders. Even though he had an easy four inches on her in height, her presence was commanding, and he bowed his head, looking away. No struggling for rank with that one, he thought dryly. I know exactly where we stand, same as always… He felt a little put out for some reason at having been corrected by her, and in his pouting, he missed the sadness that flashed momentarily through her green eyes.

                “Come on, Kurosaki-kun, we’ll be late for class,” Orihime told her friend, motioning for him to hurry. She unthinkingly gave Ulquiorra a chaste peck on the cheek out of pure habit, and then realizing she’d tipped her hand even further, glanced nervously over at Ichigo.

                He just shook his head and sighed, sounding resigned. “You can explain all this to me at school.” He trudged after Orihime, giving a final hesitant glance over his shoulder at the three Ex-Espada standing in the hallway. Grimmjow leered, waving obnoxiously, and Hallibel thumped him on the back of the head. “Knock it off,” she told him as she turned and headed toward the dining room.

                He rubbed at his head, though his pride was hurt more than his body. He called after Ichigo, “See you after class, right?” Ichigo waved without turning around, which Grimmjow took as confirmation, and he hurried after Hallibel. “You can’t eat breakfast like that, put some clothes on, dammit!”

/////////

                After they had eaten, and Hallibel had gotten dressed, Urahara worked with them in the kitchen, teaching them how to cook.

                “Alright. Now, it’s all in the wrist,” he told them. He cracked an egg firmly on the counter, and split the shell, dumping the contents into a bowl. Ulquiorra and Hallibel copied him easily, but Grimmjow was shaking, grinding his teeth with frustration. He had crushed egg after egg, and not only were his hands and the counter covered in a sticky mess, but his bowl was full of pieces of shell.

                “Is this really necessary, dammit?” he shouted. “Can’t I just learn manners or something and be done?”

                Hallibel sighed, and came up behind him. Grimmjow froze as he felt her press against his back, and her arms snaked to either side of him, laying her hands over his as she moved together with him to pick up an egg. “It’s not about cooking,” she told him as she demonstrated kinetically for him the exact amount of pressure to use. “It’s about self control and discipline. It’s about mastery of a skill.” He watched as she pressed his fingers into the crack in the shell, and pried it apart, dropping the egg and white into the bowl without a single fragment of shell. “Now you do it.”

                She stepped away from him, and though his body was trembling, his mind felt curiously still. He cracked the shell with a sharp tap, and repeated the process precisely.

                “Well,” Urahara confided, “It kind of is about cooking. Poor Ulquiorra was starving half to death; he should learn to prepare something he’ll actually eat.”

                “I meant it’s about more than what you see on the surface,” Hallibel clarified, indicating to Grimmjow to try it again. “Like the egg, there’s something of value buried inside of it; you just have to find out how to crack the shell.” He easily cracked the egg this time, and gave a small smile.

                “Hallibel-san, you sound like a Taoist monk,” Urahara laughed. He paused, and snapped his fingers. “That’s it! Are you familiar with Tai-Chi?”

                She cocked her head inquisitively at him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

                “Tessai!” Urahara called, and his assistant appeared from the depths of the shop. “Kindly take Hallibel-san down into the basement, and teach her some basic Tai-Chi forms, will you?”

                “Yes sir,” Tessai bowed, and Hallibel followed him to find out what this was all about.

                Urahara tapped his folded fan thoughtfully against his pursed lips. “Hmmm… We need to find some way to teach you through something that engages you…” He looked toward Ulquiorra. “What interests you?”

                Ulquiorra stared blankly at the shop keeper. “Cooking does not disinterest me,” he stated.

                “Oh, ok...” He turned to Grimmjow. “So, what are your interests?”

                Grimmjow had to think hard for a while. “Fighting with Ichigo, I guess?” He shrugged.

                “No no no… We have to find something that can channel your energy, and hold your focus, that’s non-violent. You are strictly forbidden from fighting until we get this straightened out.”

                Grimmjow ground his teeth, feeling his ire rising. What am I, some child that people feel they need to punish me and set rules for me? He glared icily at the shop keeper.

                “See? You’re getting angry already, look at that.” Urahara tapped his fan to his lip again. “There’s got to be something… What about music?”

                “Music?” Grimmjow was taken off guard by that. “What do you mean, music?” For a moment, he thought he remembered the strains of the song from his dream, and it sent a hushing calm over him instantly.

                “Aha…” Urahara grinned knowingly. “I have just the thing!” He ran in back, and returned with an acoustic guitar, and a book. “It’s dusty, but it’ll probably work for our purposes.” He slipped the strap over his head, and gave it an experimental strum.

                The sound echoed in Grimmjow’s mind, and its melody perked his ears. It was soothing. He watched as Urahara twisted some pegs on the end of it, strumming experimentally as the tone changed. “This book has basic beginner’s instructions, why don’t you sit down over here and look through it while Ulquiorra and I whip up some lunch out of all these eggs.” He passed the instrument to Grimmjow, who took it cautiously, but nodded.

                As he plucked at the guitar in the corner, glancing occasionally at the book, Urahara and Ulquiorra worked on making some omelets out of all the eggs. The shop keeper glanced over occasionally at Grimmjow, and grinned to himself. “Music soothes the savage beast,” he murmured under his breath with a smile.

                Grimmjow was surprised. The music was calming to him, but figuring out how to operate this infernal instrument was having quite the opposite effect on him. His irritation was building until he couldn’t take it anymore; he stood, and with a roar, smashed the body of the guitar repeatedly against the ground, splintering it into fragments.

                Urahara frowned at the disruption. “Maybe an electric guitar…” he muttered under his breath.

///////////

                A week had passed.

                Ulquiorra was mastering the art of cooking with a zeal that surprised even himself. Everyone looked forward to his meals, except for the one person who mattered to him. It would take still more time for him to learn the exotic tastes of his beloved, but until such a time as that, she was satisfied to slather his cooking with strange sauces.

                Grimmjow had received an electric guitar and a small amp from the over-generous shop keeper, on the stipulation that he keep the volume at a reasonable level. There had been points of contention between the two of them regarding the exact definition of ‘reasonable,’ but nevertheless, he was growing with remarkable skill in the instrument.

                Hallibel had proven herself to be quite proficient at Tai Chi, among other disciplines, and had actually found employment as a Martial Arts instructor, thanks to some falsified documents courtesy of Urahara. She was moving into her own apartment, rented with a loan from Urahara, pending her first paycheck.

                On her last night in the shop, Grimmjow was feeling unexplainably moody and irritable. He wasn’t sure why it should matter so much to him that Hallibel was leaving in the morning. She was only going a few blocks away, but it bothered him that he wouldn’t be seeing as much of her as he had grown accustomed to over the past week. She was cold, and he was often rude to her, but he realized he still had feelings for her, after all these decades. A sadness overcame him when he realized that she probably only saw him as an annoyance.

                Hallibel was walking down the hall, and her ears picked up soft music. It seemed sort of familiar to her, but she couldn’t put her finger on where from. She followed the sound to Grimmjow’s room. He sat on his bed, back against the wall, eyes closed, bowed low over his guitar as he softly strummed by candle light. She stood watching him for a few moments, lost in the melody that he was struggling to find. This was an altogether different Grimmjow than she had ever known before; he was soft, quiet, focused, and calm. He was the complete opposite of the usual Grimmjow, from the battle field.

                “What’s that song?”

                He looked up, startled to see Hallibel standing in his doorway. He fumbled with the guitar, losing his train of thought, the song gone again like the scent of a flower in the wind. “Oh, I don’t know. Just something I made up. I think I heard it once in a dream.” Their eyes met for a long moment, and he wondered silently if she remembered being in that place, or if it had in fact just been in his own mind.

                “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

                Chills ran up his spine at the sound of her words. “Thank you,” he murmured, casting his eyes away from her. The silence hung with a heavy awkwardness. “So, big day tomorrow, huh?”

                Hallibel could hear the sad undertone to his words, and it gave her a pang in her chest. “Yes.”

                He nodded somberly, and heaved a heavy sigh. “Well, don’t be stranger, k?” He gave her one of his skewed, cavalier, signature Grimmjow grins, and though she could tell it was forced, it made her laugh. That laugh… His heart felt like it would break into a million pieces at the sound of it, it was so beautiful to him.

                “You’re such a goof, Grimmjow,” she told him, a warm smile on her face.

                He spread his arms out. “Hey, that’s me, right?” It was forced, and he knew it sounded lame, but he didn’t know what else to say. He couldn’t tell her what he really wanted to. Don’t leave. Come lay here with me. We can pretend the ceiling is the sky, and the sheets are the sand, and it’ll be just like old times. He sighed. So much gone unsaid, between us. I guess I thought things would be different, now… But why would they be?

                Hallibel saw him retreating into a pensive, dark mood. She wanted to reach out to him, but didn’t know how to get to him, wherever it was he’d gone to in his mind. She was saddened by this, and wished he was able to open up to her, but maybe he wasn’t even sure himself what the problem was. All these emotions they were experiencing were new, and the shop keeper had told them that since Grimmjow had technically still been alive when he had been pulled out of his body, it was likely he would feel his new emotions more intensely than the others. Hallibel thought with a twinge of sorrow, That is especially cruel for him, because he was always so intense to begin with. She sighed. “Well, goodnight, Grimmjow.” He nodded in acknowledgement, but did not look up.

                Hallibel continued past her own room, and went onto the front porch. The moonlight shone down from the cloudless sky, casting hazy blue shadows on the ground. She gazed up at it, resting her head against a column, something about the warmth in the breeze making her feel a little nostalgic and homesick for Las Noches.

                Waraji-clad feet landed with a whisper in the yard, and Hallibel looked down, peering into the shadows. “So, the rumors were true,” a voice said, quivering. Rangiku Matsumoto stepped into the moonlight. “I had heard, but I had to see it for myself…”

                “Hello, Matsumoto,” Hallibel said, the gentleness in her voice disarming the Shinigami. “Please, before you come another step… I need to apologize to you.”

                Matsumoto froze, and peered hard through the darkness, trying to read the face of the Ex-Espada. “What do you mean?”

                “I want you to know, the past is in the past for me. I hope you can put things behind us, and we can both walk from this place tonight as friends. This is a new beginning for me; for all of us, really. Please, don’t let anyone take that from us.” Her green eyes shimmered, pleading with the Shinigami.

                Matsumoto was stunned. “I didn’t come here to fight you, Hallibel, but thank you for that anyway.” She reached into her kosode and pulled a note from alongside her ample bosom. The moonlight glinted off the seal, and Hallibel could see it was official correspondence from the Captain Commander. “I have a letter to deliver to Kisuke.”

                “Why did they send such an important letter to be delivered by hand? Couldn’t they have sent the message by Hell Butterfly?” Hallibel asked.

                The question seemed to come more from a place of curious information seeking than personal challenge, and Matsumoto was willing to reply. “Soul Society has heard of all the Arrancar resurrections going on over here, and they’re putting a stop to it.” She hesitated a moment, and then with a touch of sorrow, added, “…And I had something I wanted to speak with Kisuke about… Personally.”

                “Come inside,” Hallibel invited, sweeping her arm in a welcoming manner. Matsumoto smiled and followed her, laying her hand on the Ex-Espada’s shoulder in a gesture of goodwill.

///////////

                Grimmjow woke to the late morning sun. He didn’t want to get out of bed. He knew he had missed his chance already to say goodbye to Hallibel this morning, and the day felt wasted already. But his stomach churned in protest, and he dragged himself up and into the dining room to see what there might be left for him to scrounge.

                He was not prepared for the sight that met his eyes. Nearly everyone was there. Urahara, Orihime, Ulquiorra, Kurosaki, Chad, Ishida, Rukia, Renji, Hallibel, Hitsugaya, Matsumoto… And sprawled across her lap, being blissfully fed grapes, was none other than the smirking idiot, Gin Ichimaru. Everyone seemed engaged in a rather enthusiastic argument.

                “In my own defense,” Urahara was saying, “I didn’t open the letter until after I had already channeled his soul into the Gigai.”

                “No doubt, by careful planning,” Captain Histugaya growled, pinning Matsumoto with a furious glare that went entirely unnoticed by her. She was completely enrapt, as was Gin, the two of them happily absorbed in each other. “The High Court had ruled that the Arrancar whom you resurrected didn’t hold any specific threat to Soul Society, once inhabiting Gigai, and if you agreed to rehabilitate them…”

                “Which I have done!” Kisuke cried. He threw his arm around Hallibel’s shoulder and pulled her close. “Look at Hallibel here, she’s my star pupil, she has a job and everything!”

                “…But this individual,” Hitsugaya snapped, pointing at the white-haired man sprawled in Matsumoto’s lap, “Is a traitor to Soul Society, and must be tried and executed.”

                “Oh, honestly, Taicho, you’re over-reacting,” Matsumoto scolded, waving at him dismissively as she giggled, feeding Gin another grape. “He’s completely harmless. Have the trial, he’ll be found innocent.”

                “My motives were pure, although I admit, poorly executed,” Gin admitted. “I was just trying to protect Rangiku-san…” They devolved into incomprehensible lovey-dovey babbling, rubbing noses and giggling at eachother.

                “I think it’s sweet,” Orihime said with a smile, reaching over and taking Ulquiorra’s hand.

                “The fact remains,” Histugaya sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, “that you have broken the edict handed down by the High Court, Urahara.”

                “Not so,” Ulquiorra interjected, scanning over the letter. “This letter clearly states that Urahara-san is henceforth forbidden from using his technology from resurrecting any more Arrancar, specifically the Espada.” He glanced at Matsumoto and Gin. “He, clearly, is not one of the Espada. Therefore, he is excluded from this edict anyway.”

                “HA!” Urahara laughed, pointing his fan at Histugaya, who only scowled further. “Ulquiorra, I should get you a job as a lawyer…”

//////////
A/N: That’s it, everyone! This turned out to be a little two-shot; I was planning for longer, but that’s all there was on this one. I’ve been grinding hard on the follow-up to this, “Pina Colada Espada,” but that has heavy LEMON planned. It will probably turn out to be a two or three chapter piece. Get your fangirl screaming ready for DOMINANT Hallibel, and submissive Grimmjow! I adore your comments, they are so encouraging to me! UPDATE: Pina Colada Espada is completed now, and availible here on A-FF, so check it out if you want some to find out what happens between Hallibel and Grimmjow, it has my longest, hottest Lemon to date!
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Urahara's Arrancar Rehabilitation Center