Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or its characters, nor do I make any profit from this.
Warnings: Rated for violence and vulgar language, high levels of smut will take place in later chapters which their links will be posted to my profile.
Authors note: I thank xXxHeiress101xXx for allowing me to adopt this fan fiction. I hope everybody is pleased with its contents, enjoy.
Summary: What if instead of kidnapping Orihime, Ulquiorra comes for Ichigo?
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Ichigo was running.
Perspiration dripped from his quivering flesh while his hitched breathing mingled with the cloying air, anticipation driving him over the borderline of insanity. He was suffocating, swallowed up by Dread's iron grip. Unknowingly being led into the darkness.
Soul Society's survival.
Karakura's.
Even his own caged his conscience in a never ending plague, poking at him in mockery.
Night's calm vanished upon the sky's mighty roar, splitting in two and beckoning him into a fighting stance as he gazed intensely at the opening. It was a garganta.
Damn it, reinforcements!?
A thin shadow emerged from the black hole, followed by a more muscular figure, offering an indifferent glance. Emotion void from the pale being. He was Ulquiorra, the other Grimmjow, but Ichigo failed to realize their reason for return a mere two days after the previous invasion. The very disclosed arrival that put Rukia's life at risk.
Almost having her killed.
"Kurosaki, we come to deliver you to Lord Aizen. We shall not harm you in any way, of course, that is only possible with your cooperation."
King, emo is kinda lusty, neh?
Shut the hell up Shiro.
Hehe, denial sure is ya thing.
The past couple of days have been horrid for the teen, the last thing he needed was Shirosaki's input. Ichigo had always felt responsible for his friends' wellbeing, put their safety before his own. He watched over Rukia while she recovered. Witnessed every pang of guilt as she insisted he wasn't to blame. However, he knew it was a lie. If he had been stronger, she wouldn't be in a critical condition. If only he had more power...if only he wasn't weak.
It reminded him of her execution, the same method the traitor used to retrieve the hogyoku. Piercing her abdomen, bringing back the memory of his deceased mother. Sometimes, when proven too tired to ignore, he could still hear her calling out to him.
Begging for him to step away from the ledge.
Could still feel her arms cling protectively around him, making his doom her own. He began to loath his very existence, wished for death while rejecting comfort. That was, until he met Rukia.
Ichigo made up his mind, chose to remain true to his heart. Decided to hold his ground.
"Like hell I'm going to Hueco Mundo," Ichigo balled his left fist, bringing it to join his other on Zangetsu's hilt, "you can tell that bastard Aizen I don't give a shit about what he wants!"
At first Ulquiorra hadn't respond, monotone to the boy's resolve, as if questioning his determination. "Very well. Grimmjow," an animalistic grin was brought on the sexta's features, excitement rushing through his twitching veins, "do as you please. However, intact or not, keep him alive."
Though experienced with the terror of reality acquainted with every battle, Ichigo couldn't resist the thrilled shivers coursing through his body. The allure of adrenaline seduced his blood crazed mind. Brawling against a creature with Grimmjow's murderous intent was something he couldn't pass up.
...It was spine tingling...
...exhilarating...
Satisfying with every swing, every clash of steel that raptured from their weapons as the need to have his opponent submit dominated even more. "Is that all you've got, Shinigami?!"
Ichigo's movements became deadlier, more vigorous as his heart accelerated to unbelievable lengths, this was exactly as it was supposed to be. Dodging a speedy attack and retaliating with more force than before. The teen burned in an inferno of delight. He allowed his anger to boil and steam off with aggression, letting all reason flee. Instinct taking over, leading him to the very height of ecstasy.
In the mist of his haze the boy noticed the cuatro, watching him, studying his fighting style with judgemental verdant orbs. And during the test of his physical strengh, he found calm in the tiny green specks. Of course, his momentary distraction dropped his guard and presented the sixth with an opening.
King, emo is making his move.
The warning was wasted, failed to reach the substitute in time as he was drawn into numbness, an exhaustive throb pounding in his brain. W-what t-the hell?
His vision blurred, deeming him useless as he fainted in the espada's arms.