Silence.
It was something the Fourth Espada had been used to in the past.
And yet, he felt that, this time, it was different.
The night's foreshadowing silence was almost as if time had rewound…
He recalled; he was attacked by those he followed, as if claimed to be an outside force in a fortress. Attacked, nearly killed, and recalling his empty, short life of seven some-odd years to the massive desert for endless travel. Traveling to somewhere or nowhere at all, if just to find some meaning. When he found comfort, it was within the brightest light he had ever seen, and will argue to this day that it was brighter than the sun.
So why is it, in the silence of the fortress, he felt as if his clan had come back and forced him out again, claiming he wasn't an Arrancar. Claiming he wasn't one of them.
Realization set that he had been just as human as the girl, and this haunted whatever naps he had in the eternal night of this now would-be Hell.
How could I be like her?
When did I start becoming one of them?
He knew he could only blame himself for this. He didn't want to admit it, but all he had to do was remind him of what the girl had done.
Never once did she call Ulquiorra anything. She referred to him as name once, and never spoke his name directly, as if she knew he disliked any name for himself. She was easy to correct, and only ever argued twice. And yet, it bothered him.
No matter what he did to pass the time, it all felt meaningless. The kingdom, as Barragan called it, was gone. Everyone had left, which was Starrk's fear. To where, no one knew, but maybe Aaroniero begged to differ.
And, when he acted on Hollow instinct just to find something to do, his hand would lift and tap the air, opening a portal. This always scared him, and he would jump back like a bird, watching the hole he made shut before him in block-like patterns.
Why? Why!
There was just this air around her that attracted him, like rats falling for something as simple as food in the middle of an oven. He hated this weakness, because like Nnoitra, he didn't want to admit to it.
Ulquiorra quietly sat on the rooftop, hearing nothing to the sort of wind. Every day he ran through why he would be scolded, if he even had people to scold him. There were so many reasons this was unforgivable.
And yet, he couldn't just admit it. That would be defeat.
Never once had a villain admit… feelings… for those you'd captured.
It didn't understand anything that happened anymore, when before this all occurred, he was perfectly sane.
He never once felt like his chest was too tight to be with, never once felt like he had lost something of great importance, never felt like he had done something horrible…
And never once felt something wet and warm on his face, just after waking up from a nightmare, which were in the bunches for him.
It felt like she had ripped something out of him and hung it in front of his face, mocking the Arrancar with whatever she had.
He felt sick just thinking about it, and yet he felt hopeless as well.
Why was, at this point, his best friend.
And yet, at the same time, Why was… ironic.
Why had been the last thing she had really said to him. And "why" was indeed the best question the situation had. He had been told that he could do anything to her since she was, by all rights, trash: the very bottom of the food chain Ulquiorra had in his head. Yet, for some strange reason, Ulquiorra wanted to set her free. There wasn't a need for her to be there anymore. And, at that point, he reasoned that she would just become attached to him like a cat you feed out of pity.
Letting her free… that's what he did… technically, at first. And even then he felt guilty. And how many days, at that, had he questioned if it had been right? So, why?
Why did the feeling of her holding him tight never leave!
He began to wonder, like always, if he had been the metaphorical cat, attracted by offers of food and enchanted by the terms of heat inside a home, and blessed with love from some hopeful and filled stranger?
It was only today he decided to do anything.
I pray to whatever hell bent, bored, and merciless god that we have, Ulquiorra sat up, forced himself onto his feet, and opened a gate to get away from the red peppered world Las Noches turned into, that I don't end up doing something stupid.
…But maybe the universe will smite me somehow. Best of luck, because I hope that Hell's on the other side of this trip.
It was two months since Ichigo had lost his powers in the fight with Aizen, but Orihime was surprised to find that everything was just fine. And, to everyone around her, it was how it was supposed to be.
The Soul Reapers, as Rukia had explained once, cleared the mind of all who were in the incident that weren't in Ichigo's rescue squad. The superstar, Tatsuki's kendo group, and everyone else forgot about the incident.
…Ichigo's friends, on the other hand…
Tatsuki, from time to time, would ask Ichigo what he did as a Soul Reaper. According to Uyru, time spend at lunch was interesting; Keigo made jokes about defeating all the perils the orange-haired hero faced himself. Mizuiro enjoyed speaking of whatever Ichigo was up to talk about, but mostly focused on the females than anything else in the stories. As well, Orihime's circle of friend's seemed to focus on activity between her and the Arrancars, having learned to dodge a certain name. However, ever since the incident, Orihime had noticed that she no longer saw Rukia, Renji, or anyone else from the Soul Society.
If you haven't noticed, even if there's nothing to do in our world, I am still impatient. Hurry up, girl.
Peaceful walks where, should she have been doing her job, Rukia was about were now replaced by the nameless and low-class, who never made eye-contact with Orihime and even went as far as pretending that they couldn't see her. Yachiru was never seen running about, Ikkaku and Yumichika vanished with everyone else, Rangiku never came by any more…
And when Orihime remembered this, she quietly went home after separating from her friends, and quietly sobbed as she did homework or watched TV, trying her best not to wet anything.
Why do you cry? Knowing your friends from the files I've read, they should return to rescue you.
Orihime always found herself sighing when she was allowed to drift off. She found herself drawing pictures of bats, stars, or doing math problems that required 4 ways of getting a series or lone number 4 out of 6,924 with a square root of 44. No one questioned any of this, per usual… she even managed to trick Tatsuki to even fall for the illusion that she "liked the number four so much yadda yadda".
Military ranks? Well, of course, we painstakingly have some. But why does it matter to you? Do you want to know how powerful your captor is?
This side also took over her daily actions, for some bizarre reason. She would find herself buying tea, often Earl Gray, even though she admitted to herself and multiple shopkeepers that she didn't even drink tea. She found herself staring at the sky for a random amount of time, always straight ahead, as if looking at a moon. And yet, she had to admit.
...You seem hell bent on learning something as meaningless as a name. I only took one up as our previous Tres Espada wouldn't leave me alone with it. Now, listen, I'll only say this once.
She noticed that she was never jumpy when someone called her name now. She stopped being frightened of crime and even once gave candy to a purse snatcher. She had grown to love the night, and had even bought books on stars, if just for the sole reason of learning their names. She valued her life, and even then…
The name is Ulquiorra Cifer. I am the fourth strongest, and I will be the only Espada you will properly speak to. I will provide your meals, I will inform you of your friends, should they come by, and I will be in charge of protecting you until told otherwise. I do not care what you call me, but only if you fail to use honorifics. Are we clear, girl?
Orihime smiled to her self, muttering. "Crystal... but it'll feel weird, calling you "Ulquiorra".