• The sheer silver sword hit you with ahard and firm force across your left arm, blood splattered out the gushing wound as you hit the cold, rough concrete.
    "W-what the h-hell?!" You stammered as you looked up from the dark red puddle of DNA beneathe you. You looked up light headedly to set your gaze on a tall, thin, pink-haired Arrancar.
    He glared and then smirked at you're struggling body.
    CLASH! The two swords hit so hard you could feel the vibration through your body.
    'Damnit, he's too fast!' You thought, jumping out of sight. He laughed as though he knew what you were thinking.
    Out of no where, the sharp, piercing pain hit you so quickly your brain couldn't send the feeling fast enough to your stomache. You looked down, wide-eyed to see a long, thin sword. Blood dripping off the tip onto what seemed to be a fragement of your organs. The sword pulled out of you fast, you fell about 13 feet, and hit the ground.
    Barely concious, you looked up to see your enemy looking down at you. You couldn't bare the excrusiating pain.
    "Aren't. . .Aren't you going to finish me off?!" You managed under the copper-tasting blood dripping from your teeth. Before you could say another word, he knelt down beside you. He pulled out something out of nowhere, you were losing sight because of the massive blood you lost. He pulled out what you believed to be a syrenge. He injected an unknown liquid into the infected wound.
    You squinted at the small, but sharp pain in your arm.
    Moments later, your eyesight was 10 times better than it was before, and you could feel no pain.
    'What. . .What is this? Is he. . .Healing me?!' You thought. You looked up and saw the Arrancar holding out a hand.
    You took it without hesitation. He pulled you up with what seemed like no effort at all.
    You peered at your arm and stomache. No trace of damage to be seen. You looked back at him.
    "Why the hell did you just fight me, nearly killing me, and then just heal me again?! Is this some sick joke or something?!" You demanded, pulling your hand away. He gave you a strange look, then moved his gaze to the sunset.
    ". . .I'm not sure why I saved you. There's just something about you that I like." He told you, looking back in your direction. Your eyes looked wide for a moment. Silence.
    ". . .Well then, who the heck are you?!" You asked.
    "Szayel Aporro Grantz. And you?" He asked.
    "I'm. . .________ _______." You said cautiously.
    "_______?" He asked.
    "What a beautiful name. . ." He said.
    "Umm. . .Yeah. So Szayel, what are you?" You asked.
    "What am I. . .?" He repeated. "I'm an Arrancar. A Hollow that has gained Soul Reaper Powers."
    "Yeah, I know that." You said sarcastically.
    "You fight very well." He said.
    "Um, thanks. . .I guess." You muttered. Silence fell for a few moments.
    "Hey, umm. . ." You began, "I think I'd better get home now. It's getting sort of late." You said.
    "Oh. . .Well do you mind if I walk you home?" He asked.
    "Huh? Well. . .I guess it's alright. After all, you seem like a nice person. . ." You said.

    Chapter Two. . .
    _________________________________


    The clouds where dark and threatening. Distant thunder could be heard, shots of lightning here and there could be seen. You and Szayel walked to yourappartment on a muggy afternoon.
    "We should probably pick up the pace if we want to get there before it rains." Szayel warned.
    "Why should we go faster? The rain is fun. It's my favorite weather." You insisted.
    "Well, okay." He said, slowing his pace to match your's. The big, heavy clouds brewed closer to you, but you still went the same pace, as if there not be a cloud in the sky.
    "This is sort of off-subject, but. . .Why did you attack me?" You asked thoughtfully.
    "Well, I must have mistaken you for a Soul Reaper, I suppose." He admitted. You glanced down at your black shirt and black Hakama.
    "Oh? So how did you know I wasn't one then?" You argued.
    "Well, just the way you fight. No offense what so ever, but you know. I could tell." He said.
    "Oh, okay then. . ." You said, trying to end the conversation.
    You felt a cold, surprising feeling drop on your nose. You looked up, dark gray clouds hung over head, drops of cold rain fell every so often. Szayel fallowed your glance and looked into the sky. A rain drop fell on his nose.
    "I see it's raining." He said, looking at you.
    "Yup," you said, "Isn't it nice?" You looked back at him too.
    "Yeah, I suppose." He said.
    You came upon a tall, gray building with high windows and a tall, steel door infront of you.
    "Well, this is it. . .My not-so-amazing appartment." You sighed. "Hey, Szayel. . .Thanks for walking me home." You said.
    "You're very welcome." He said. "Same time tomarrow?" He asked.
    'Wow. . .He's up on it. . .' You thought.
    "Oh, I can't. I have school." You said.
    "Okay then. I guess this is goodbye?" He asked.
    ". . .Yeah." You said, a bit of agony in your voice.
    "Well, goodbye." He said, turning around and walking slowly away.
    "Bye. . ." You said quietly. His thin fiqure slowly disapreared into the foggy darkness of the sidewalk.
    'I wonder where he is going. . .' You thought, turning around to face the steel door.
    'What's this strange feeling. . .Guilty? No. . .Sadness? Do I miss him?' You thought as you entered the appartment building.
    The smell of permanent marker emediatly entered your senses. You followed the smell that led you to a sign that said:
    "No vacantcies."
    "Hm." You said. You turned and started walking tawards the elevator. You stood infront of the silver box-like doors and leaned forward to press the ^ button. A sqeeky noise pierced your ears as a light in the number '6' glowed obove the doors. You fixed your hair, looking into your reflection in the elevator.
    Moments later the door slid open with a slight sqeek. A young woman, thin with black-blue hair came out of the elevator. She had her hair in a single braid. You recognized what she was wearing.
    A leutenate's uniform. You watched her as she proceeded through the front door. She glancedback for barely a second, and dissapeared into the fog and rain.
    'Wiiieeerrrddd. . .' You thought, and walked into the elevator.
    You pushed lightly on the '5' button and it glowed a bright orange. You stood there, watching the light pass down the crack of the elevator doors. about a minute later, the door opened with a quiet sqeek, and you stepped out into your hallway.
    There was dead silence, and all you could hear was the pitter-patter of rain on the roof, and the steps you took with your red Converse. You walked a couple feet and stood infront of your door. You took outa key you had in your pocket, and stuck it in the lock. You turn it slightly, and pulled it out. You opened the cold, wooden door and stepped into your appartment. The smell of rain came into yor nose, as you noticed you left the window in the kitchen open. you plopped your keys on the counter and leaned over the sink to pull the window closed.
    "Ugh, I'm so tired. . ." You said to yourself. "I'm just going to take a shower in the morning. . ."
    You walked into your bathroom, and lazily grabbed the pajamas off the back of the door. You took your shirt off, and through it on the floor. You slid your Hakama down and stepped our of it.
    You leaned closer to the mirror and closely examined your arm and stomache.
    'What was that stuff. . .uhh. . .That's right, Szayel. . .What was that stuff Szayel injected into me?' You thought. 'It practically healed my injuries instantly.' You thought. You took the red T-shirt off the counter and slid it over your head and pulled it down.
    'Oh forget it, I have to get some sleep.' You thought, picking up the black shorts laying on the corner of the sink.
    You put them on, and turned the light off. You walked out the bathroom and stumbled into your soft, cool bed and pulled the cold, yet warm sheets over your body.
    Eye's closed, you began to drift off to the pattering noise of the soft rain against the bedroom window.
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    To be continued. . .