AUTHOR'S NOTE
Sorry if the beginning is kinda slow, I just really like describing things, especially Espadas that are close to dying. Also, this story takes place ten months before the birth of Kazui Kurosaki, so I'm assuming that Ichigo is approximately 23 or 24. I guess, what I'm trying to say is that, I don't know if it's been eight years since Ulquiorra's death to where this story is now. If it's not, please correct me for I'm not 100% up-to-date with the Bleach timeline.
Also, I'm just going to say this once: I don't own Bleach ('cause if I did, Ulquiorra wouldn't have died, Ichihime and Renruki would have happened sooner, Nelnoi and Ginran would be canon, and Grimmjow and Ulquiorra would generally play larger roles. :) I bet you're glad I don't own Bleach, now, huh?).
The raucous wind howled through the gray skies of Hueco Mundo.
Queen Harribel reigned supreme from Las Noches, and a predatory peace haunted the desolate land. The low wails of Gillians echoed from quartz tree to quartz tree. Adjuchas traveled in small and rowdy packs, careful not to arouse the queen's suspicion, while Vasto Lordes stampeded across the dunes and asserted their dominance.
A pebble skipped across the sea of white, and all became silent. Slowly, a cloud of dust collected on a mound, and a figure began to take form. First an arm, then a leg. A lanky black wing pierced the sky before another followed. A shadow shrouded in dark fur rose from its former ashen, corpse-like position on the ground.
He had done it.
Without his knowledge, in a mere eight years, he had regenerated everything, from the pale skin covering his bone to the lungs and liver and internal organs that Ichigo Kurosaki had pierced.
A burst of power went out of him; his batlike wings disappeared, and his fur dissolved, as his long-tailed white uniform reappeared on his body. His tail retracted, and his horns dissipated, instead forming the half of the helmet that adorned his head. The wide, tear-like estigma under his eyes thinned and faded to a dark green.
Ulquiorra Cifer, Cuatro Espada, was back.
He blinked languidly and detected that something was amiss. He reached out and brought a hand to his eyes, which felt strange and dark.
Seated in his eye sockets, there was nothing.
He was only mildly surprised. He was used to there being an emptiness in his eyes; he had used Solita Vista several times to show Lord Aizen exploits he had witnessed, yet there had never been a time where it had been necessary to pluck out and crush both eyes.
His eyebrows raised a nearly imperceptible amount, as he channeled his reiryoku toward his eyes in a nonchalant attempt to regenerate them. Normally, for any non-internal organ, he would have felt a glimmer of feeling and the immediate effect of high-speed regeneration; this time, he felt nothing but the empty pressure of his reiatsu clouding his eye sockets.
He let out an uncharacteristic curse. "Damn."
Ulquiorra shut and reopened his eyes. Terse irritation flooded through him. There was not a single difference in the acuity of his vision whether he closed or open them. It was all darkness.
He supposed it suited him. What had he said before? "If this eye cannot see a thing, then it does not exist." Now there really was nothing.
A lingering doubt flew upon him. Was there ever anything in the first place?
"Nonsense," he chided himself. "Just because your eyes see no longer doesn't interfere with what your eyes once saw."
He had seen Ichigo Kurosaki transform into a Hollow-like being in order to save that woman—Orihime Inoue, was her name, wasn't it? He had seen the Hollowfied Kurosaki stab the Quincy, had seen himself succumb to the impudence of death as he assured himself that the woman wasn't afraid of him. He had watched the dust of his ebony wings disintegrating cling to the harsh wind and follow it across the dunes.
Ulquiorra wasn't exactly sure how he had regained this physical form, as on the day of his death he had become one with the sands of Hueco Mundo. Unlike other Espada who, if they ever managed to regain their previous forms, would charge after their killers, burdened by a sense of revenge, he wanted nothing more than waste away and die.
Living as a nihilistic figure whose main way to discover reality or not—his eyes—had been destroyed, just proved life as meaningless as it had been before.
On the cusp of death he had admitted to the existence of a heart.
"It lies within this palm," Ulquiorra repeated. "The heart." He clutched an empty fist and closed his eyes. Perhaps he would hold himself to that statement.
A shred of light glimmered through him and a membrane-thin veil of peace covered him. He reached out a hand toward the sky, surprised at the tremendous effort it took to do such a simple action. He dared to take a step, and a spell of dizziness overtook him.
Ulquiorra clenched his teeth. His reiatsu had yet to recover after his death. His body may have been fully-fleshed, but his powers were dormant and weak from unuse for so long.
A moment later, the spinning in his head became too much and he was forced to lower himself to the ground. The sands were irritating against his skin, and he flinched. Was his hierro also diminished?
Slowly, he brought himself back to his feet, wobbling only slightly. A blind sense of direction was no sense of direction at all, so he followed the faint guidings of his weakened pesquisa to the nearest source of overwhelming reiatsu—perhaps, a fellow Espada who could explain what had happened in Hueco Mundo over the course of eight years.
It was a slow task; his Sonído faltered, and he flickered in and out between long strides and short steps like a fallacious mirage.
By the time Ulquiorra arrived, he was short of breath and running dangerously low on patience. The scene of the reiatsu that proliferated through his pesquisa showed him but a single figure of high, but slowly waning reiatsu. The sharp smell of chemicals and death punctured his nostrils and the air felt even drier on his hands.
This reiatsu no doubt belonged to the Octava Espada, Szayelaporro Granz.
"Strange," Ulquiorra commented drily. Szayelaporro isn't one to live life at a standstill . The Octava was always flamboyant and busy, whether it had been persuading low-level Arrancar to sacrifice themselves as his test subjects or perfecting his Gabriel technique.
He reached out an arm toward the direction of Szayelaporro's reiatsu. Blindly, he felt something bitterly cold and smooth. A blade , he deduced. His hands ran along the length of it before reaching another surface. It was almost leathery, and the more his hands wandered did he recognize tips of taloned fingers and the roughness of a palm. His hand reached where the hand and the sword connected.
Ulquiorra's frown deepened. Szayelaporro made no movement, no cunning acknowledgement that he could decipher. The man stood as still as a statue, his hand still pierced by the sword. It was not something that the Octava that he once knew would have done.
Just how much had changed since he had died?
He released his hands from Szayelaporro's figure. Obviously, the Octava had been defeated somehow, although through whatever means, he could not tell. Perhaps, eternal paralysis?
Lowering his head, he deduced that he could no longer feel the commanding reiatsu of Lord Aizen or his shinigami comrades. Nor could he sense the Primera, Segunda, Quinta, Séptima or Diez. Strangely enough, Harribel's reiatsu shrouded the land like a veil, and he could detect Grimmjow and Nelliel's faint presences.
A chill ran through him. Could they have been defeated? Defeated, Lord Aizen and his precious Hōgyoku? There was—there was no way. Lord Aizen was the most powerful man he knew, there was no doubt that he could defeat Ichigo Kurosaki and his ragtag team of shinigami.
Ichigo Kurosaki . It had to be him. There was no one more irritating enough who could possibly overpower Aizen.
Ulquiorra felt another burst of power withdraw from him. A jolt shook his body and terror took hold of his bones. Weariness sapped his strength, and he lowered his eyes.
"I see." The previous time he had felt this sort of power drainage had been a few minutes ago when he had changed from his Ressureción Segunda Etapa form to his normal Espada uniform. He deduced that it signified the waning of his strength. "There is no form lower than this I can sink to. It seems as if the only reason I regenerated this body was to die once more. So be it."
Another gush of power left him. His eyebrows rose, and he fell forward on his knees, not having any control of his body.
As weakness flooded through him, Ulquiorra surprised himself with a sudden and newfound fear of death. His words may have welcomed an uncaring demise, but—but his ... heart spoke volumes otherwise. He had just regained this life, yet he was not raring to boast about this near-godlike wonder. Ulquiorra just wanted to ... live. Live quietly.
It seemed, as more power seeped out of him, that living quietly was not an option. No doubt, death was around the corner and the end of his new life along with it.
A new resolve struck him like a lightning bolt. He knew what he would do.
Opening a Garganta, Ulquiorra thought, I will go to see Ichigo Kurosaki, and I will make him tell me how he defeated Lord Aizen. That is all the information I would like to know before I die. By the time he answers the question, the rest of my power will be drained and I will quickly return to Hueco Mundo. I cannot, and will not die in the World of the Living.
He stumbled to his feet, wary of the weakness of his muscles, and he pierced the air in the fashion that he did to open a Garganta. He could not see if the portal had opened or not, but could hear the loud sounds of the bustle of the human world. It was so very distinct from Hueco Mundo's silence. He stepped in the direction of the ruckus.
Ulquiorra landed hard on the firm concrete of the World of the Living. The air was so thin and nearly devoid of reishi, which did not help his waning powers one bit. In fact, the creation of the Garganta had taken significantly more strength out of him than it had before.
He inhaled deeply, trying to catch fragile breaths. If he had thought he felt weak before in Hueco Mundo, the vulnerability was so much greater in the World of the Living. It seemed that he had grossly underestimated what would happen to him if he left home.
Ulquiorra felt his knees buckle in frailty as he held his head high with his eyes closed in the direction of what felt like a familiar reiatsu. His pesquisa had been diminished severely by now and he could no longer pinpoint who it was. The only two memorable humans he had come in contact with were Ichigo Kurosaki and Orihime Inoue, so that narrowed down whose reiatsu it could be. While he preferred to find the Substitute Shinigami, he supposed that the woman would work almost as efficicently as an information source.
Navigating among swaths of people with no eyesight proved to be difficult. Normally, he would have plowed through crowds easily, making paths amongst the trash for himself with Ceros or raising his own reiatsu to a point where no one could stand in his presence. In this endeavour, though, he could do neither, so he soundlessly marched himself, staggering every other step, straight toward the familiar reiatsu.
When he neared the source, Ulquiorra's footsteps stumbled more frequently and his breaths became so labored and inconsistent that he could not even dare call them 'breaths'. Pain rocketed through every step he took and the next bolt of power that left him—and just when he had arrived at his desired location—caused him to tumble to his knees.
"It's—it's nearly comical," he panted, feeling the last of his power and life ebb away. "I f—finally reach the place of my killer—and in turn, die—die my ..." The last of his power left him and he collapsed headfirst onto the ground. "Self."
Orihime Kurosaki peered into the oven carefully, giggling in anticipation. She had set her kitchen timer for exactly forty-two minutes—which in her opinion, was entirely too long a wait—in order to bake her favorite wasabi-cheese-chocolate-seaweed cupcakes. They were the ultimate combination of sweet, savory, and spicy, and it was nearly impossible for her to go a week without baking a batch.
"Hm," she deduced as she poked the tips of the cupcakes with a fork, "they're not quite done yet." Orihime pouted and turned her timer for another five minutes.
A loud thud ! interrupted her cupcake-baking induced musings. A worried look stretched across her face and she called, "Ichigo? Was that you?" She readied her Shun Shun Rikka powers in case he had hurt himself.
"No," her bright-haired husband replied as he walked down the stairs. He sniffed the air. "Are you baking those cupcakes of yours?"
"Yep!" Orihime replied, smiling brightly. Her grin fell for a moment as she asked, "Did you hear that strange noise? It was really loud."
Ichigo walked toward the front door, "Yeah, probably somebody dropped something heavy next door. Don't worry about it." He began to put on his jacket. "I'm going to get the mail—I'll be right back."
Orihime turned back to the oven as she heard him open the door. She noticed happily that the muffins were turning more golden brown by the minute.
"Uh, Orihime?" Ichigo called, his voice wavering a bit. "I think you'd better come see this."
"What is it?" she asked, rushing as she dried her hands on her apron. Her eyes widened as she saw what lay on the doorstep.
Sprawled on the ground, eyes closed and reiatsu waning, was Ulquiorra Cifer.
Ichigo reached for his well-worn Combat Pass instinctively. "What the hell is he doing here? Didn't he turn to ash or something?"
Orihime looked at the pale man for a moment. It was strange, almost harrowing, to see him here, at her doorstep. A wave of pain washed over her. "I—I think he's hurt," she said, as she reached toward him.
Ulquiorra made no movement, and concern etched on Orihime's face. She turned toward her husband as she knelt down to the Espada. "Ichigo, something's wrong."
He reached down toward his wife. "Yeah, I see that." Ichigo sighed deeply. "I guess we should probably bring him inside. He looks harmless enough."
Orihime nodded determinedly and yanked on Ulquiorra's hand. She grunted stubbornly; he was heavier than he looked. Ichigo offered to help, but Orihime instead, raised him off of the ground using a golden pallet made from her Rikka powers.
She laid him down on their living room floor and quickly examined his spiritual pressure. Like she had assumed before, his reiatsu was waning. Carefully, she rolled up the white sleeves of his Espada uniform, surprised to see slight scrapes dot his arms—didn't Arrancars have skin that was supposed to be as hard as iron? Orihime summoned Shun'ō and Ayame, easily sealing his wounds.
Strangely enough, as she did this, his reiatsu increased in tandem, and as soon as Orihime had closed the last cut on his skin, Ulquiorra's spiritual pressure had peaked to a point where she didn't have to be concerned for life anymore.
He didn't seem to have any internal injuries, yet Orihime saw no signs of Ulquiorra waking up. He was definitely alive, and she was glad to suddenly see shallow breaths escape his mouth. She peered closely at his face. A small smile formed on her mouth as she noticed that even when he was unconscious, Ulquiorra was still always frowning.
Her eyes wandered toward the upper part of his face and her brows furrowed when she noticed something very strange. "Um—ah—Ichigo? Can you come here for a second?"
She heard him walk up behind her. "What's up? Something wrong with him?"
Orihime motioned him to come close to her. "Can you close your eyes for a moment?"
Ichigo did as she asked, albeit giving her a confused glance beforehand. She watched as his eyelids flexed a bit to cover his eyes; his eye sockets had that slight bulge that showed that there was a ... spherical eyeball nestled inside it. Quite normal.
She turned back to Ulquiorra and peered at his closed eyes. The skin that made up the eyelids hung limp against his eye sockets, as if there was nothing behind them. Gently, with her pinky finger, Orihime cautiously peeled back Ulquiorra's eyelids, shivering at the unfamiliar coldness of his body. Immediately, she released him and turned toward Ichigo with an alarmed expression.
"What's the matter?"
Orihime gestured with a frantic exuberance, a worried frenzy etched on her face. "He doesn't have any eyes! There's nothing behind his eyelids!"
Ichigo raised his eyebrows. "What? Seriously?" He, too, took a look, gagging on the spot. "Oh, man, that's disturbing. Shouldn't his high-speed regeneration reform his eyes?"
"I thought that, too." She ran a finger across his eyelids and took a deep breath. "Sōten Kisshun, I reject." Orihime watched eagerly as she saw Ulquiorra's eyelids bulge and quickly pushed back his eyelids, glad to see the white of a sclera and the dark green of Ulquiorra's pupils. She turned toward Ichigo, grinning. "That's much better."
Her husband nodded. "Yeah, anything less would have been creepy." He frowned. "I don't think we should keep him here, though. It's not safe, now that he's healed."
Orihime looked at the unconscious Ulquiorra for a moment. A wave of sadness washed over her. Ichigo was right. They couldn't really keep an Arrancar—and an Espada, no less—in their house. Her eyes wandered to the Hollow hole on his chest. It was centered right where one's heart was normally located. A symbol of Ulquiorra's nihilistic search for happiness.
"Maybe ... maybe we should wait until he wakes up." Quietly, she summoned Hinagiku, Lily and Baigon and created a Santen Kesshun shield around Ulquiorra. If he happened to wake up in a destructive mood (although, she highly doubted that Ulquiorra would wake up in any sort of mood—but that was just his personality), he would at least do minimal damage.
Ichigo's brows furrowed for a second, and he looked like he was going to argue for a moment. He then turned to look at Orihime's pleading expression and then relented. "Alright, but seriously, just until he wakes up." A strange odor then assaulted his nose, and Ichigo looked around the house in confusion. "Is—is something burning?"
"Oh no!" Orihime exclaimed, as she jumped up from the Arrancar and ran to the kitchen in a frenzy. "My cupcakes!"
AUTHOR'S NOTE 2
Just to let you know, this is not a romance story. Ichihime is there on the sidelines ('cause they're married), yes, but there's no real romance-y stuff. Each chapter will consist of two parts, one from Ulquiorra's point of view, and the other either being Ichigo or Orihime (I will alternate theirs between chapters).
Another bit of confusion to clear up: In this chapter, I mention that Ulquiorra's power levels "decrease" as he becomes weaker. What I mean by this is, when Ulquiorra died in the anime/manga, he was in his Ressurción Segunda Etapa form. After he "regenerates his body" in my story, he's very weak so he reverts back to his normal Espada uniform, which is the outfit he is in when he arrives at Ichigo and Orihime's doorstep, nearly devoid of reiatsu.
Also, how was it? It's my first time writing Ulquiorra's character, so please tell me what you think!