Orihime trudged home. Her feet scraping against the sidewalk. Cold autumn wind whipped her hair into a furious dance in the wind, the ends of the striped scarf following the same steps of the dance as the strands of hair. Her eyes vacant as her mind lay elsewhere. Uliquorra. Did the espada truly learn to love? Or was she twisting the meaning of Uliquorra's last words into something she could deal with?
With a sigh, Orihime stared in to the clouds above. They where a storm grey. Swollen with unspilt rain, ready to dump the water on to the people below. Wind blew Orihime's hair around. Tangling it into knots that would take several hours to undo. She took a deep breath. The cold air freeing Orihime of her thoughts.
After all, it didn't truly matter what Uliquorra meant. He was dead. And took his "heart" with him.
Satisfied with her conclusion, Orihime continued to walk back to her apartment. Thunder grumbled ominously in the distance.
Orihime lay sprawled out on her couch. Randomly flipping channels on her t.v. attempting to starve off her boredom. Rain pounded on her window. As she grew tired of the nonsensical dramas and depressing news channels, Orihime's thoughts returned to a certain dead espada.
The longer she thought about Uliquorra's death, the longer something bothered her about it. Something didn't seem right. Something that Uliquorra said before he faded into ash. Orihime closed her eyes, furrowed her brows, and the corners of her mouth dropped down into a frown as she struggled to recall a distant memory.
Uliquorra stood in front of her. The tips of his wings disintegrating into fine black dust. His left horn broken off from the base lay on the ground next to him. His eyes boring into Orihime's. Orihime found herself unable to look away from the broken espada.
Next to Orihime was Ichigo. Who was visibly shaking at the sight of the damaged he caused to his opponent, brown eyes wide with disbelieve. His hollow never took control like that before. He shuddered. Ichigo lifted his head to face Uliquorra.
Uliquora looked at his hand. Noting that the tips of his black fingernails where turning to dust as well. He never thought that shinigami trash would be able to kill him. Complete regeneration might take months, even years, if at all. He glanced at the shinigami trash at the corner of his eye. This trash might even be able to kill Aizen-sama. He rather die than be disgraced and killed by an shinigami later.
"why won't you strike the final blow, shinigami?"
Startled at the voice, Ichigo shook his head.
"N-no."
"No?"
"I-I wont!" Ichigo's voice growing stronger, "I didn't want to win this way."
"It'll never be over if you don't-"
Orihime's eyes flew open. Her heart pounding in her chest. Eyes darted around the room as if confirming her location. She was still laying on her couch in the middle of her living room. Red locks splayed on the pillow. The newscaster still blaring on the television. Relieved, she took a deep breath and felt herself relax. Orihime had fallen asleep when she was trying to remember Uliquorra's death. The repressed memory flew to the surface of her conciseness as she dozed.
Orihime rolled of the couch and walked to her kitchen. Her nerves where still jittery from the memory and she was craving cinnamon peppermint tea. She placed her red kettle under the tap, and filled it with water. After placing the kettle on the burner, she leaned against the countertop. The plastic edge digging into her spine. Something that Uliquorra said raised red flags.
"It'll never be over if you don't-"
Orihime tried to finish the broken sentence. Don't kill me? Is that what said? Orihime cursed whatever woke her from the memory. Desperately wanting to know what Uliquorra was saying. Her mind went over the sentence once more.
"It'll never be over if you don't-"
Why wouldn't it be over? What couldn't be more "over" than death? Orihime opened a cabinet to get a mug for her tea. She set the mug on the counter. There was only one other possibility. Orihime shook her head in frustration. No, it's impossible. A wild desperate hope sprung in her chest.
Orihime brought her fingers to her lips and acknowledged her irrational hope out loud.
"Unless…. Unless Uliquorra wasn't dead…. After all…."
The kettle let out a piercing shriek.