The monotonous rain pounded on the misted windows of Ulquiorra's room. A loud crack of thunder resounded through the desolate chasms of the grand hallway outside his quarters.
He took no notice of it, however, for he was deep in thought. The events of the day had left him completely immersed in a mental conflict he had thought up by himself, for himself.
It was the third day of Orihime Inoue's imprisonment within the confines of Las Noches. She still refused to eat the food Ulquiorra brought her. He thought she had been eating it, but later found the food under her bed. Things had been different since the day she had slapped him...
He hadn't told Aizen about the incident. Part of Ulquiorra couldn't, wouldn't tell him. But, why? Why couldn't he tell Aizen-sama, his Aizen-sama, who had created him and everyone else he really knew? Aizen-sama, who one could always trust and confide in?
That was what he lay there on his small, neat bed thinking so deeply about. He had come to the conclusion he was afraid of. Maybe...maybe he wouldn't tell Aizen because he was afraid of what might happen to Orihime. Maybe he had feelings for Orihime.
Of all the things he didn't want to happen in his life, developing feelings for his hostage was among the top of the list.
Then he realized it was time for her feeding. It came to him that he treated her just like an animal...
Ulquiorra slowly walked to the room where Orihime stayed prisoner. Firmly holding the tray laden with her meal, he tried to look as bored as possible. He could very clearly hear rain pounding down on the roof.
"Whatcha got there?" Nnoitra asked, entering the hallway. Ulquiorra hesitated.
"Food for Inoue-san," he replied bluntly. Nnoitra raised his eyebrows.
"Inoue...'san'? Getting chummy, are we?" he asked suspiciously. Ulquiorra sighed.
"Aizen-sama told me to develop a friendlier attitude towards the hostage to make her stay here more...tolerable."
Nnoitra sighed as well, and continued walking. Ulquiorra approached the door of Inoue's room. He put his hand up to knock, then stopped- it wasn't necessary.
"I'm coming in," he said, opening the heavy door. Orihime was sitting on the bed, wiping tears from her face. She looked up angrily at Ulquiorra.
"Here's your food," he said, placing it on the table by her bed. She glared at him.
"I don't want it," she hissed, turning away from him. Ulquiorra scowled.
"Just eat it," he insisted, turning to leave.
"No." He turned around. She stared at him detestedly. He swiftly walked over to her.
"If you won't eat it…" he started bitterly, "...then I will tie you down and force it down your throat". Orihime shuddered.
"That's what you'd like, isn't it? Force and violence...blood, hate, and war. You people are sick," she spat at him, standing up. Ulquiorra hesitated.
"Your kind is not much better. And starving yourself won't help the world," he answered. In anger, Orihime knocked over her table, causing food to scatter everywhere.
"I'M NOT HUNGRY!" she screamed, tears forming in her already red eyes. Ulquiorra then jumped on her, pinning her wrists to the floor, his knee on her stomach, his dark hair hanging in her face. He breathed heavily, his large green eyes narrowed in anger.
"You shouldn't have done that," he growled, tightening his grip on her wrists. She winced, glistening tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Tears..." he thought. It was rare to see them. He gingerly put his hand on her cheek. He felt the warm tears stream onto his own hand. He lifted his hand, putting the wetness up to his own eye. He blinked.
"Fascinating..." he muttered, turning his attention back to his prisoner. She looked at him confusedly. Slowly, she entwined her fingers with Ulquiorra's own. No longer could the wetness of her tears be felt. It was then that Ulquiorra noticed them- her eyes. Her large, gray, endlessly deep eyes.
He also noticed her eyes staring up into his, unblinkingly. His eyes widened as she broke free of his grip of her left wrist and absent mindedly traced the line resembling tears that went down the right side of his face.
They stayed like this, staring into each other's eyes for what could've been hours, but was really only a few minutes.
A drop of rain that hit Ulquiorra's head brought him back to his senses. He stared, shocked, down at her and sprung off of her to his feet. She sat up, stunned herself.
The ceiling continued to drip rain. Ulquiorra could feel himself blushing.
"I'll...get the leak fixed," he stated, heading for the door, "...and I'll get you more food. And you'll eat it."
Once outside her room, he saw Grimmjow staring out a window at the falling rain. Grimmjow looked up at him grinned.
"Ha, that's a good look for you," he said smirking. Ulquiorra glanced at his faint reflection in the window and gasped. His hair was somewhat messy, his face red, and his shirt was partway hanging off his shoulder. He smoothed his hair down and adjusted his shirt, glaring at Grimmjow.
"You think I...look 'good', Grimmjow?" he asked blankly. Grimmjow scowled.
"Of course not, ya emo wannabe. Go away," he replied in a very immature tone. Ulquiorra shrugged, walking away.