Inoue stared at the walls of her room as she had for the last week since arriving in Hueco Mundo. Nothing had changed. Little had happened. At least she had the comfort of knowing Aizen would spare her friends.
Despite that, she didn't want to be there. Not really.
The door opened and Ulquiorra stepped in, his usual stoic expression replaced by one of slight amusement. Over his arm was draped a material of lazuli and powder blues, slight hints of silver glinting as it swayed. His green eyes fastened on her.
"Aizen-sama has requested your presence," he said.
Inoue rose from her seat on the couch, looking at the door. He was alone, uncharacteristic of him. "Where's Thing One and Thing Two?"
"They won't be required anymore. I'm seeing to you now."
She didn't like the sound of it.
He held up the material by its hanger, a slight smile crossing his lips at her uneasy reaction.
To Inoue it looked more like something off an I Dream of Jeannie episode, with loose-fitting pale blue chiffon pantaloons and halter, overlaid with a deep blue-violet cropped vest and girdle.
She shook her head, putting her hands on her hips. "I am not wearing that ... that harem outfit."
The smile inched across his face. "My orders are that you wear it of your own freewill, Inoue, or I help you change into it. By all means, please resist."
Her head lifted with defiance. "I didn't agree to this," she said, gesturing to the wispy material.
He looked at the scant clothing. "It looks comfortable, to me."
"Then you wear it."
His smile fell. "If you insist in refusing, I'd be more than happy to assist --"
Inoue stepped back as he stepped forward. "Heck, no." She glared at him, and then snatched the hanger out his hand. It weighed almost nothing. "Now get out."
He nodded and headed for the door. "I'll be back in two minutes."
When he was gone, Inoue held the hanger up higher, shaking her head.
The pale blue halter looked sturdy enough, she thought, estimating the seams and straps. She took a cautious look around the room, not certain her every movement wasn't being watched. It took a few minutes to pull off her shirt and finagle into the halter. She eased her considerable bosom into the fabric, fastening the heavy duty hooks at the back that were hidden beneath the wide band.
Actually it was kind of comfortable, but a little chilly. The chiffon was thin, but not transparent, and altered between a soft blue to iridescent lavender when she moved.
With misgivings, she shucked off her pants and took a moment to hitch up the pantaloons. They were of the same material, except with a girdle of the darker lapis velvet, matching the vest. It was trimmed with silver tube beading at her waist and sides, fitting just below her navel. She tried to pull it up higher, but only succeeded in becoming uncomfortable. She kneeled to tie the drawstrings at her ankles.
What the heck was going on with Aizen? she wondered. This was not part of her arrangement. Had the Winter War been fought already? Had Soul Society lost?
No way, she thought, straightening. No way Aizen could have won.
She shrugged into the velvet vest, smoothing the silver beading at the arm openings and edges. It added a little bit of modesty to the halter.
She looked up as the door suddenly opened and Ulquiorra stepped in. This time the smile spreading over his face wasn't timid or brief.
"Come along, Inoue."
She gritted her teeth at the blush rising over her cheeks. "Yes, El-Queero."
They wove through the semi-lit halls for several long moments until finding an unassuming single door at the end of one. Ulquiorra opened it with a flourish, bowing and sweeping his arm to suggest she pass through.
Inoue found herself outside in a square courtyard, enclosed by exterior walls of the complex, effectively partitioning the two acre parcel of lush green grass fringed with marble walkways and tiled overhangs running the length of all four sides. In the center was a dais, four posts hung with unbleached cotton swags that shaded it from the sun overhead, the partial shade screening it.
She hadn't seen the sun or grass in a week. It was almost worth the change in apparel to be outside again.
Almost.
At the raised dais stood Aizen, and at one corner near a column was Gin. She recognized his lurking posture anywhere.
Aizen stood at the second of the two steps of the dais, standing akimbo, looking to her.
Inoue took a deep breath and crossed one of the cobble footpaths to the men.
"Ah, so glad you could join us," Aizen said, his innocuous-looking smile in place.
"I don't see how I had much choice," she said, pulling her vest tighter around herself.
"You didn't."
He offered a hand to her, but she avoided his touch.
"Very well," he said, stepping back and beckoning her closer.
She approached slowly, stepping to the top of the wooden base. The dais was littered with large satin pillows strewn about the perimeter, stacked higher at the corners, the swagged drapery partially shading the platform. In the center was a loo table of teakwood, with cushions in shades of blues and purples surrounding it.
Aizen looked her over with evident appreciation. "Doesn't she look delicate, Gin?"
Inoue's lip curled at the remark, and she scowled at Gin's sly smile as it twitched.
"Oh, yes."
Inoue stood still, keeping her distance from Aizen. "Our deal was --"
"I'm familiar with our deal, Orihime." He smiled. "It doesn't mean we can't pass our time as friends."
"We're not friends," she said, troubled at the turn of circumstances.
"We're not exactly enemies." He nodded to the pillows at one side of the low table. "Please sit down, Orihime."
She hesitantly took a seat at one of the lavender pillows. He looked different, unlike she'd ever seen him before. He was still dressed in the captain's shihakuso of Soul Reaper, but the colors were wrong. The black was still black, but now trimmed with emerald green piping at the sleeve edges. The captain's coat over it was white, but had a double band of teal running over the entire length of the hems. She hadn't seen the back.
She glanced to Gin leaning at one of the corner columns. He was similarly attired, except his had a single band of teal at the hems. His katana was replaced by the longer odachi he wore slung to one hip, the hilt barely visible at his obi.
She looked to Aizen as he seated himself across from her and laid a tanto to the side of the two-tone mother-of-pearl checkerboard that was centered on the table.
At least, that's what it looked like to Inoue.
She looked from the short sword to Aizen. He smiled.
"You're probably bored by now, Orihime." He brought out a sandalwood box carved with a rampant dragon on its lid. He opened it and began to set out small game pieces.
"I don't play chess," she said.
"This isn't chess."
She watched the pieces, each about three inches high, amount to one side of the board on the polished table.
"But it's similar," he added.
To her astonishment, the pieces held a familiarity. She leaned closer, recognizing the carved miniature of one with spiky hair. "Captain Zaraki-san," she said lowly.
"No; that's Abarai," Aizen said. He set another figure on the table from the box, shaking it slightly. A tinkling bell sounded from within. "This is Zaraki."
She looked from one figure to the other. The differences were obvious, seeing them both together. In all there were sixteen pieces, carved of black obsidian. Aizen pushed them to her side of the table.
"Your squad, Orihime." He raised an eyebrow, holding up one of the few female figures. "The queen."
She frowned, studying the figure. "That's me."
"Yes. The most powerful figure on the board. You may move her three spaces in any direction. Her capture is the winning move."
Her eyes shot to his. "I told you, I don't play chess."
"This is not chess, Orihime."
He set down the playing piece and held up the pointy-headed piece again. "Zaraki is your lieutenant." He tapped two more figures. "Your thirds."
She frowned, taking the two game figures. One short, one vaguely familiar. Isshin. "Captain Hitsugaya? Kurosaki-san?"
"Yes." He slid seven more playing pieces across the table to her. "Your additional seats, through ten."
Inoue momentarily forgot her modesty and leaned over the table, investigating each figure closely. Renji, Ikkaku, Rukia, Shunsui, Byakuya, and Matsumoto were easily recognized. The last, Ichigo, gave her pause.
Uneasiness welled in her stomach. "I don't understand."
"You will." Aizen set five more carved figures before her. "Your disposable pieces."
Her eyes fell over Momo, Hanatarou, Hisagi, Nanao, and Ishida. She looked back to her seated figures. It took her a moment to tell Rukia apart from Hanatarou.
She was still lost in her own introspection as he set up a second set of carved ivory figures. She looked up as he finished. She recognized several, including Aizen himself, Gin, Kaname, Urahara with a small cat at his foot, Ulquiorra, and assorted Arrancar, Espada, and Vizards. Most she didn't recognize.
Her eyes rested on a very female figure. It was dressed in a revealing outfit, large bosom barely contained in a strappy bikini-type top, its long drape of a loincloth attached precariously at each hip by a slim few chain links. She recognized it after a moment.
"That's me!" she chirped, pointing at it and blushing.
Aizen smiled, nodding. "That's my queen."
Inoue snatched up her own queen. "You can't have the same queen as me."
"It's my game. I make the rules."
Her fingers closed possessively around the figure. "Why don't I have a king piece?"
His eyes fell over the carved figures on her side of the table. "You have no set king, Orihime. You may choose a new king for each game."
She frowned. "A new king?"
"Yes."
"For each game?"
"Yes."
"Anyone?"
He nodded, sitting back in his cushions. "Anyone."
Her soft brown eyes watched him warily for a long moment. She set her queen, carved after herself in a simple skirt and blouse, on the board. She chose another figure and set it beside the Queen.
"I choose this one."
Aizen nodded at the miniature Ichigo in shinigami garb, sword at his back.
"Very well."
"Your lordship."
They both looked to the attendant who had appeared out of seemingly nowhere at the base of the dais.
Aizen looked to the small form who was still bowing. "Yes?"
"Your attention is needed in the war room."
Inoue looked to Aizen. He returned her attention, then rose and smiled. "My regrets, dear Orihime. I must postpone our game until later. Familiarize yourself with the pieces. We'll play another day."
Aizen left then, following the slight figure in white attendant apparel to the interior door Inoue had used.
She looked to Gin, who watched her with his unseen eyes, the smirk emblazoned on his face.
Her attention retuned to the game board, looking over the pieces. She found one of the seated pieces and held it up so Gin could see.
He looked at the carved figure of Matsumoto.
His eyes narrowed, his smile drooping.
"That's what I thought," Inoue said, lifting an eyebrow.
Gin leaned against the pillar, crossing his arms.
A/N: Forgive me, Kubo-san.
