Disclaimer: Yes, unfortunately, I still do not own Bleach. Alas, I also did not take Ichigo's butthole virginity.

Maybe I should have warned of slightly vulgar literature prior to this story? Lol.

Inoue and Rukia display their own heroic personas. Will Ichigo's butthole virginity be saved?

Chapter Two:

Seeing in Color

"Ohayo, Inoue!"

"Ohayo, Kuchiki-san!"

"Have you heard the news?" Rukia's intense gaze turned my attention from the juvenile scribbles on my desk top to meet her insanely large, horrified—but at the same time, excited—eyes.

"What is it, Kuchiki-san?" I asked, my voice firm but concerned. I had no way of predicting the terror that truly lied beneath her unusually calm demeanor.

"It's Ichigo." At the resonance of his name, my head perked up in severe curiosity.

"Kurosaki…kun?" My voice quivered a little in fear for his safety.

"He's been captured. By the hollow. He is presumed either near or extremely dead…" She paused before continuing, "…or deader." Kuchiki-san's grave manner of speaking made the horror of the situation just that more horrible.

"That can't be! How can you say something like that?! What proof do you have?!" I shrieked, outraged more at the situation than at Rukia herself.

Kuchiki-san only glared despondently at the scratches on her hands, investigating every unpainted nail with the same gloomy expression.

Without even meeting my gaze, she challenged my question with forced apathy. "All we know is that he left Soul Society and was expected back in the human world, but somewhere along the line… someone interfered."

My mind raced, searching for anything—anything that might give hope to Ichigo's condition. My eyes widened in shock as I noticed something I had given little thought to before, that might give faith to Kurosaki-kun being alive and well.

"Kuchiki-san, I know he's alive! This morning, I got a strange call from an unknown number on my cell phone. But when I picked up, I heard a familiar voice I can't seem to place say something along the lines of, 'Oh, sorry, wrong number. Do you by any chance know the whereabouts of Kurosaki Ichigo? I'm trying to capture him to bring him to Hueco Mundo, where Aizen-sama plans to keep him mostly alive but brainwashed, but… well, you know what? Never mind. I'll just check his reiatsu.' I'm not sure, but I think maybe the Hollow kidnapped him but kept him alive either to join their ranks or as their sex slave."

Secretly and selfishly, as well as for the sanctity of Kurosaki-kun's nether regions, I prayed it was the former.

Rukia's large, luminous eyes became even larger and more luminous as the reality of the situation sunk in. "Of course! Inoue, you know what we have to do right!"

Squishing my eyebrows together in a determined, scary imitation of Kurosaki-kun, I nodded. In a deep, concentrated voice, I deduced the only possibility of saving Ichigo. "I will go to Hueco Mundo and save him myself." That said, I unsheathed my really kick-ass-looking zanpakutou, which, in bankai form, combined the formation of a flower and a red dragonfly.

Looking up into the sky, I cursed those who stole my Kurosaki-kun and his butthole virginity, and, setting out on my tiresome journey, I—

"Take that! Hee-yaw! And that! No, not there Tatsuki-chan, I'm not read…y…" I was awakened from my embarrassing display of a misplaced fantasy to the eyes and interest of Ulquoirra.

As a member of the espada ordered to oversee my stay at Hueco Mundo, Ulquoirra was required to check in on me several times through the day—making sure that I ate, making sure that I slept, and overall, making sure I stayed alive and in moderate condition. My health was to be a top priority to Hueco Mundo for as long as I remained an object of interest to Aizen-sama. Even so, it seemed as though Ulquoirra's visits were becoming more frequent and gradually extended as the days passed. His eyes bore into me like a scientist's to a lab rat—studying me, collecting data for his own personal research. As Aizen-sama's loyal dog, part of Ulquoirra's duty was to observe my behavior and oversee my stay. However, the extent to which Ulquoirra studied me seemed more out of his own curiosity than that of Aizen-sama.

"You're very curious," he remarked, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

I turned my head to the barred window, trying to hide my embarrassment and turning my attention back to reality, which often proved little comfort. I often agonized over my friends, pondering their whereabouts, their safety, and just how much they'd improved before venturing to Hueco Mundo. I reassured myself that they were still alive despite Ulquoirra's cold, manner-of-fact way of assuring me that they were not. I reassured myself that, instead of saving me, Kurosaki-kun would run to Kuchiki-san's side and somehow prevent her from completely surrendering to death's embrace.

I can save myself. Even if I am killed here, knowing that Kuchiki-san and my friends are safe, that Ichigo will be happy, is the only justification I need to feel secure in departing from this plane of existence. Even if I am beaten beyond recognition, I will maintain composure. I will not cry. I will not scream. I will not surrender.

Sensing my apprehension, Ulquoirra motioned toward me. "Do not fret. I didn't kill him," Ulquoirra started. "Ichigo, that is."

I raised my eyes to meet his, now looming just overhead as I sunk into a grayish-green couch—more of a decoration than a luxury. I said nothing, and I showed no signs of gratitude for allowing me this much information. Hoping, more than anything, that he would reveal more.

"It was no favor to you. Had he made his way to your room and not turned to save the other girl—" he continued, smirking a little in giving this fact, "—his fate would have been sealed. I chose to let him live. He proved himself to be no threat to Hueco Mundo, nor to Aizen-sama's wishes."

Ichigo was alive. He was alive and in search of Rukia. This information, meant to discourage me from hope of rescue, provided me much more comfort than he'd have imagined. The fact that Ichigo may have essentially "chosen" Rukia's life over my own was irrelevant. Petty love quarrels have no meaning in my life as it is now. What benefit comes of me living, anyway? My extended life only means extended life spans for the espada; which means more destruction, more massacre, more horrendous deaths for my friends, Soul Society, and the human world.

"Anyway," Ulquoirra muttered, surveying the room for the first time. "It seems you were busy during my departure. But somehow, you kept yourself in decent condition." He lifted my chin as he said this, inspecting the scars and bruising that remained from a confrontation prior to his arrival. "Clean this mess up," he trailed, turning to leave the room. As he reached for the door he met my gaze. "When I return, I expect this blood to be gone. I'll send for supplies."

With that, my captor was gone, completely oblivious to the truth of what I'd been subjected to. In a way, Ulquoirra was my protector. Heartless and cruel, yet still determined to see to my safety. Would he have saved me from the female arrancar, had he acknowledged their presence? I was certain this was so. Aizen had ordered him to keep me alive.

With two fingers, I wiped a bit of the blood from my cheek. The blood still looked as red as it ever did; a color I was not accustomed to seeing in this dreary existence. The blood was still somewhat fresh; a reminder that I was still human, and still very much alive. I brought my fingers to my mouth, excavating every drop of blood from the surface. My blood tasted just as it always had. My flesh had not completely surrendered to the hollow.