Another one that I decided to drag out of the vault, finish up and post since it wasn't doing any good just sitting in my folders for years. originally a one shot, I'll be cutting this up into three chapters to make for lighter reading. Please enjoy!
Name: Whispers of the Hogyoku
Pairing: None
Song: Afraid - The Neighbourhood
It puzzled Orihime - and hell, anyone privy to the true motives of her imprisonment in Las Noches - why Aizen was so utterly and adamantly set that she not be harmed, not even by a pin.
It wasn't until after the first three days that she heard a voice, other than he keeper's monotonous dull tone. It was strange and wispy and not quite there. She dismissed it as a trick, be it of her mind or of someone else.
But it was persistent; a constant beckoning and excited murmur in the distance. It had no distinct tone or feature, not male nor female. Just a muted mumble that tugged at her attention. It was, most of the time, clearly discernible when her keeper, Ulquiorra, came by and the door was open. She had asked him about it.
"Can you hear that?" He had stared, imploring her to elaborate.
"I heard whispering." she replied, suddenly feeling foolish.
"There is no noise, woman."
He left, and she pondered.
It was after the first week, on the eighth day, that she heard it clearly, giggling softly, like a child playing hide and seek. Orihime ignored it to the best of her ability, though it was incessant.
On the tenth day, however, she could not ignore the agonized scream that clawed at her mind. It thundered through her psyche and forced her to her knees, hands covering her ears and making her cry out.
Someone called to her, poked her shoulder, but the screaming was too much, ringing in her ears and drowning everything else out.
'It hurts! It hurts!' A chorus of voices, calling out in agony, rendered her immobilized.
She pitched forward and into oblivion.
It had been two days since the mumbles solidified into words, since the screams of pain had pervaded her mind. She was getting used to it - hearing the constant chatter - like the gurgle of a creek. It would talk to her, ask her questions, and make remarks and strange comments about the beings around her. Orihime had to wonder if she was truly going mental.
When she did, the voice would giggle and tell her she was still sane.
On the fourteenth day – a fortnight of imprisonment – she accidentally dropped her empty plate. It shattered into a hundred tiny white pieces, and Orihime hurried to collect the shards in one place. The door opened, casting light from the hall upon her, kneeling on the floor and plucking the fragments up.
"Cease your actions." Ulquiorra said blandly.
She hurried to explain, to apologize and to fix the mistake. "I didn't meant to, it just slipped! I shou-ah!"
Orihime dropped the fragment of white plate and held her hand, wincing at the cut on her middle finger. Blood blossomed from the incision and Ulquiorra suddenly flew into a mild sort of panic. He rushed forward, pulled her off her knees and made her sit on the couch.
"Do not touch anything further." he instructed, vanishing out the door, shutting it behind him.
'Hurt! Hurt! Oh no! Master is hurt!' the voice called out in worry and Orihime frowned. Master?
She had no time to dwell, because Ulquiorra had promptly returned with an entourage. Two Exequias filed in obediently as he remained at the door, leaving it open this time. One set about cleaning the shards of glass, and the other carried a bag and kneeled before her, gesturing for her injured hand. Orihime was taken aback.
"Lord Aizen has taken precautions for any injury you may befall and has procured means of treatment. Let them treat your wound." Ulquiorra said sternly.
Orihime glanced at him and gingerly held out her hand. The Exequias was swift, opening the case and bringing out ointment and a band-aid.
'Fixing Master! Fixing Master!' the voice cheered happily.
Then, another voice entirely cut through her focus.
"The fuck? I'm not her babysitter; that's your job."
She looked at the doorway and her muscles tensed. Ulquiorra was standing opposite another Espada, the Sexta; Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Her Shun Shun Rikka unintentionally hummed with delight at the sight of the fully functioning arm they had restored; a job well done.
"It will be for 5 minutes at the most, Grimmjow. All you need do is make sure no-one like Nnoitra comes calling, and she does not try to flee."
Grimmjow snarled, looming over the shorter, but higher ranked, Espada. "I ain't your fill-in." he hissed.
Ulquiorra looked at him with a level green gaze. "Perhaps if Lord Aizen rids you of your other arm, you will be more inclined to aid in the protection of his prize?"
Grimmjow's eye twitched. The Quatro had him. He knew it, Ulquiorra knew it and even Orihime knew it.
"You'd better hurry the fuck up." Grimmjow growled in a deathly low tone.
Ulquiorra moved past the blue haired Espada and Sonido'd out of sight. She froze as he suddenly slid his cobalt scowl to her.
"The fuck're you staring at!?" he snapped. Orihime said nothing and looked down sharply at her hand, the hairs on the back of her neck rising the longer his glare lingered.
The Exequias who had been treating her cut finished applying the band-aid and closed the case. The one cleaning up the broken plate had also finished, the shards put in a small black garbage bag. They packed up and filed out the door and Orihime wanted to scream. 'Don't go, don't leave me with him!'
They didn't shut the door behind them, and Grimmjow didn't pull it shut from outside either. The open door left her suddenly uncomfortably exposed. She didn't know anything about this Espada. She didn't know his habits, or his mannerisms, only that he had murdered another Espada the moment he had the power to.
A minute had passed.
The voice whimpered. 'He's upset! He's upset! The Maker is scary!' Orihime winced and rubbed her head as the voices chanted fearfully.
"Oi, don't fucking collapse on my watch again." barked the harsh new voice at the door. Orihime blinked and dared look at him in confusion.
"Again?"
He met her stare, and though still intimidating, he didn't seem to be as foul as he was a minute ago. He did roll his eyes.
"A few days ago. You were making all this noise and the Emo Bitch wasn't around so I came to see what the fuss was about. You blacked out, and then he showed up." he recounted bitterly. Orihime looked down at her lap.
"I see...Sorry. That would have caused trouble for you. It's just a headache." she excused.
Grimmjow tsked and looked down the hallway for the 4th's return. "I can't believe he's gotta make a fucking report for a tiny fucking cut..." he growled.
This drew her attention one again.
"Ulquiorra has to report this? But...it's nothing." she blurted.
"Not to Lord Aizen, apparently." Grimmjow retorted, scoffing. "It's a fucking ridiculous rule; 'Any injury sustained by the human Orihime Inoue is to be reported, in full detail and without delay'." he parroted. "Maybe he does have a heart?" Grimmjow's tone was one hundred percent sardonic.
Orihime gave an uncharacteristic snort. "And I'm a leprechaun."
Grimmjow gave a muted snort as well.
Orihime leaned back on the sofa and stared at the ceiling before frowning. "Why does he care if I get hurt?" she mused, more to herself.
"Beats me." replied her temporary guard. She grinned darkly. "Maybe you should punch a hole through me and we'll find out?"
And though her tone was clearly sarcastic, Grimmjow found himself staring at her, taken aback by the fact she had said such a thing at all. Suddenly she sat up, the smirk replaced by the beginnings of a thought.
"There's an idea." she hummed.
"What?" he deadpanned.
She turned her head to look at him, eyes bright. "Say, when I outlive my usefulness, would you like to kill me? I mean, you seem to like killing, and I'm not naive enough to think I'm going to be let go if Aizen wins the war."
Grimmjow was left blinking at her, having a hard time processing what she had just offered.
"You are fucking insane." he stated.
Orihime smiled as the voice reassured that she was still mentally stable.
"Not yet."
Grimmjow stared at her, shaking his head in disbelief before throwing his hands in the air.
"Yeah, sure, why the fuck not? If someone else doesn't get around to it first, I guess." He suddenly stared at the opposite wall. "What the fuck did I just agree to?"
Orihime chuckled to herself and remained seated, staring out the window again.
Three minutes passed, and Ulquiorra returned.
"Finally!" snapped the Sexta, stalking down the hall and leaving before the Quatro had even reached him.
She had been scolded, vaguely, for putting herself in danger and told not to do so again. Orihime had agreed, and then been left alone. This time, however, she ached. 'Master is sad! Master is sad!' the voice cooed. It had turned out to be a painful blessing, the brief minutes of interaction with a more responsive person than the Quatro.
At least she had gotten something out of it. A promise, of sorts.
So do tell me what you think! I'll be posting the next parts very soon since they're all done, but I would still love to hear feedback on this third.