Mayuri is a nutcase. Ulquiorra is an excelent test subject.
I don't own Bleach. :D Didn't see that coming?
Ulquiorra was not entirely sure how he ended up in this situation.
His mind was a messy blur of random sounds and the white coloring of Hueco Mundo. And pink. For some reason he thought of Szayel. Why…? Why Szayel…? Oh. That's right. He had just died. Szayel had been defeated by one of those trash Shinigami captains that had come to help that other trash Shinigami, and presumably attempt to rescue the woman.
Aizen had ordered Ulquiorra to….to…
His memory got blurriest then.
His consciousness was back, although he almost preferred to not know about his current surroundings.
Ulquiorra was in the Soul Society, held captive in a brightly lit room that served as a temporary jail cell. It was clearly day, sun shining obnoxiously though a north-facing window. Out the window he could see vibrant green grass, smooth white buildings different than those in Hueco Mundo, and a perfect blue sky.
It made him sick.
He hated all the color. He hated all the warmth and welcoming the sun's light gave. He hated how the Shinigami walked around freely, smiling and waving to each other. He wanted the clear cut black and white of Hueco Mundo, where it wasn't safe to make eye contact, where it wasn't safe to go where you pleased, where you didn't have freedom.
At least with Hueco Mundo, you knew exactly how everything went: however Aizen wanted everything to go. But here…
Here were emotions. Here were options. Here were opinions, expressions, and feelings.
Ulquiorra hated it all.
He hated even more how stupid the Shinigami were.
The way he felt, he figured he had been brought to the Soul Society five days ago, regaining consciousness three days ago. And he hadn't eaten since he'd gotten here.
Sure, the Shinigami had tried to feed him. He had seen plates in his room when he'd woken up. The woman had come in the past two days to give him food, which he didn't eat. Eating it would be a contradiction, he thought, plus it wasn't what he needed.
Hollows ate souls and other hollows. Spiritual energy was like their equivalent of water or air. Arrancar were hollows. Apparently the Shinigami were not smart enough to realize this, or they forgot he was an arrancar.
Either way, Ulquiorra was hungry.
The sun had started to set, and Ulquiorra rolled on his side to stare out the window from the small bed in the room. He decided staring at the colors outside his room, hating them was better than lying there, staring at the ceiling and thinking of the gnawing feeling in his empty stomach.
Once the sun had completely set, two Shinigami entered his room. Ulquiorra was vaguely aware of the click of his door opening. He felt them pick him up off his bead. Warm hands gripped his arms just below the shoulder so he could stand and walk on his own. The fatigue he felt prevented him from caring about who was taking him where ever they were going.
Left turn, right turn, another right turn…
Outside, left, right, left, left…
Back inside…
They must have been walking for at least fifteen minutes. Ulquiorra had mostly woken out of his sleepy state and looked up at the door they stopped at. A large number "12" was printed on it. The door opened ominously and there stood someone familiar… Szayel's killer.
"About time," the 12th division captain glared.
Mayuri Kurotsuchi.
NEXT CHAPTER: Ulquiorra goes under the knife...