Disclaimer: The following do not belong to me: Bleach, iPods, Pocky, and Ulqui's heart. I make no money from this.
Warnings: AU, language
A/N: A big thank you to my beta lilarin, who slogged through this chapter with me. Now I have an outline! So we know where this is headed, and how it ends. This is a long chapter, this time.
Also a big thank you to: Wushbrown, Calantha S (again), safira1718, Signum, Sweet Dumplings, TheLadyIntegra, and Aya Kazuki for your reviews, and for everyone who followed and favourited. Please R&R, it helps keep the story going. Cheers!
.
IV.
.
.
The black Jaguar pulls up in the tower driveway, and Aizen notes the time on his watch. Grimmjow, sporting a black eye, is fidgeting nervously behind him, as he stares at the downpour. 'Grimmjow has the soul of a cat,' Aizen muses as the blue-haired man carefully avoids the puddles and opens the back door for him.
He gets into the car, clipping on his seatbelt. "You are late, Ulquiorra."
"My apologies, Mr. Aizen," the Cuatro utters tonelessly. He does not give excuses, as usual, but something is different about him today. He cannot quite put his finger on it, but he enjoys trying to solve the puzzle that is his Cuatro.
"We will be going to meet with Nnoitra at the satellite office. Are you feeling well, Ulquiorra?" he says casually, as Grimmjow gets into the passenger seat, scowling.
"I am fine, sir." He puts the car into gear, ignoring Grimmjow, who is complaining loudly about not being able to drive his own car.
"Why does my car smell like vanilla?" Grimmjow whines, jacking up the heater. "Are you wearing cologne?"
Ulquiorra's eyes meet Aizen's in the mirror for a moment. "I ran into the woman today," he says simply. "And gave her a ride to the coffee shop where she is employed."
Aizen can see the tension in his fingers, in the way he grips the steering wheel, even if his face does not change expression. Ulquiorra is cold but not unfeeling, and he is good about distancing and controlling himself, which is why he was promoted to Fourth at such a young age.
"The Inoue girl?" he asks, leaning back to observe Ulquiorra's shoulders tighten. Interesting.
"The little bunny girl with the rack?" Grimmjow smirks, stretching. "Is this her scent then?" Remembering himself, he casts a wary eye at Aizen.
"Yes, Mr. Aizen," Ulquiorra says, shifting lanes. "The Inoue woman."
"I see. Is that perhaps the reason you were late?" Aizen prods.
"No, Mr. Aizen. It was more efficient for her to catch a ride with me since the coffee shop is only three blocks from here, but the cause of the delay was the traffic jam caused by the rain." He turns a corner, bringing the car into the highway.
"Where did you run into her?" A white corner sticking out from under the passenger seat catches Aizen's eye. He reaches over and picks it up, finding a sketchbook. Idly, he flips it open, and sees Ulquiorra's face on a demon. The artist captured so much emotion on Ulquiorra's face, that it is at once disturbing and heartbreaking.
"At the Aoyama Cemetery," comes the response. "She was visiting her late brother."
Aizen leans back into the chair, digesting this new piece of information. Then he flips the page of the sketchbook. It is a pencil drawing of Ulquiorra's profile, capturing his pursed lips as his eyes are narrowed in concentration. The next page has an ink portrait of Ulquiorra, sipping a cup of coffee, his eyes half-closed. Aizen turns the page again, flipping through portraits and drawings and caricatures of the green-eyed man in the drivers' seat. A small smile curves his lips, as he closes the sketchpad. A name is neatly printed in the front: Orihime Inoue. "So, did anything happen last night after we dropped her off?"
"No, she arrived home safely," Ulquiorra answers almost immediately, his tone slightly more forceful than normal. "She seems to have an aversion to Jaegerjaquez." He casts a look at the man in the passenger seat, under lowered lids. "For some reason."
"Which reminds me," Aizen strokes his chin, and glances at the suddenly-quiet Grimmjow. "Now that we know where she lives, we can go to her house soon and you can offer her a formal apology, Grimmjow." He slides the sketchpad into his leather portfolio, looking out at the rain pounding on the car window. "Aside from the museum incident, is there anything else you need to apologize for? She seemed pretty terrified when she saw you in the museum."
Grimmjow is squirming in his seat, muttering under his breath.
"What's that, Grimmjow? I didn't quite catch that," Aizen says, sounding bored. Both of the men in the front seat know this tone of his voice, and it has Grimmjow sweating.
"I… may have… scared her a bit," the blue-haired man grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "Just coz she was looking at Ulquiorra like she liked him. And she was all scared. I thought… well, if she wanted a bad boy, I'd be better for her."
"Mmm," Aizen says thoughtfully, eyeing the dark head of Ulquiorra in front of him. He has not shown so much as a twitch at Grimmjow's words. "We should bring flowers then. Or sweets. Ulquiorra, do you know what she likes?"
There is a pause. Then Ulquiorra speaks. "She likes to draw, and she like art. And she likes classical music as well."
Aizen smiles. "Excellent."
"We are here," Ulquiorra says abruptly, pulling the car into the covered driveway of Nnoitra's office building.
.
.
Ulquiorra stands outside the doors of Nnoitra's office, arms folded and eyes closed, trying to block out the sound of a chatty Grimmjow.
"I mean, he's Quinto and you're Cuatro, y'know? So why do you have to be a glorified bodyguard while he gets to do the fun stuff?" Grimmjow squats, resting his elbows on his knees. The white suits are tailored well enough to allow for this movement, but Grimmjow is always wrinkling his. "He even gets a frickin' office outside of headquarters." Ulquiorra does not reply, not bothering to dignify that with an answer. "Man, I defeated the wrong Espada. Should have skipped Luppi and gone straight for this guy."
They lapse into a brief, blessed silence. "Hey, Ulquiorra," Grimmjow asks again curiously, "what's between you and busty?"
One green, annoyed eye opens, but he does not respond. Of course, Grimmjow continues, not knowing that he has just taken his life into his own hands.
"I mean, she's cute and all, but are you guys dating or something? You did not stake your claim at the coffee shop, and you've got her panties in a lather, but you don't seem to be doing anything about it," he pulls at his ear absently. "And she's pretty hot. I bet she'd be a wildcat in bed, once you get past that boring helpless thing she's got going on. That rack, man. And that ass."
'What is going on?' Ulquiorra agrees silently, his expression neutral as his thoughts go towards the woman in question. Twice now he has run into her by accident, and it is either cosmic coincidence, which he does not believe in, or stalking, which would be idiotic on her part. He feels his irritation growing as he remembers how she used to sigh at him in the coffee shop, as if he could not hear her, or when she crouched down in the museum and called for him to stay. 'The woman really has no sense of self-preservation,' he thinks, scowling.
Grimmjow continues, before Ulquiorra can answer. "Too bad the boss has taken a shine to her, eh? She's not his usual type, though. Remember Momo? That one was sweet, and such a perfect little princess. Pretty dumb though, did everything he told her, right until the very end. She was a cop, too. Come to think of it, Busty kinda reminds me of -" The door opens, cutting him off.
Aizen strides out, tossing a bloodied briefcase to Grimmjow, who fumbles it before closing his arms around it. "Let's go," Aizen says. Ulquiorra takes the lead, walking ahead. Grimmjow looks with dismay at the red stains on his suit, thanks to the case.
Judging by the half-smile on Aizen's face, the unfortunate businessman Toyama is now dead. Ulquiorra sighs mentally, knowing the boss will probably celebrate by dragging them all to one of his karaoke bars. They make their way to the elevators.
One elevator opens, revealing an older man, two men in dark suits, and a shapely young woman who looks like an executive assistant. Ulquiorra stiffens, but holds the door open, to let Aizen and Grimmjow on.
"We have to step up security in this building," the older man drawls to his staff as the doors close. "Rats and snakes are coming in." The old man fiddles with his tie-pin, as the bejeweled C on it catches the light. The executive assistant looks wide-eyed at him, and then at the three of them, nervous. "They stink of the sewers that they came from, spreading their filth to everything they touch." The old man stares at Ulquiorra, a sneer on his face.
Grimmjow grins at him and blows him a kiss, but Ulquiorra keeps his face impassive. Aizen flicks a glance at the old man, and sighs loudly. "Nobody likes a sore loser." He moves to stand in front of the old man, smiling. "Your tie is a bit crooked, let me fix that." The two security men move to block him, but are stopped by a glance from their boss.
Aizen tightens the tie, straightening the pin. "Interesting piece of jewelry," he comments, flicking the logo pin with his forefinger. "Be careful not to lose it. You've already lost so much." He returns to his place between Ulquiorra and Grimmjow.
The silence in the elevator lies thick and heavy, until the ding of the bell announcing the overcrowded lobby.
Ulquiorra blocks the other people from leaving, so that Aizen and Grimmjow can make their exit. The older man sputters behind him, but he ignores it. Grimmjow hits the buttons for the top five floors, standing on the other side to make sure that nobody leaves the elevator. Nobody would dare oppose white-coated Espada, especially since one of them has his base of operations in this building. The old man aims an evil glare at Ulquiorra, as doors slide to a close. The flashing numbers show the elevator heading up. Aizen hides a smile behind his hand.
The hostility is nothing new, especially since Aizen has made great strides forward in the corporate and financial district, acquiring and amassing companies and properties at an exponential scale.
Why did Nnoitra have to pick this building, of all places, to set up his office, though? Ulquiorra surveys the room, looking for the quickest way to the exit. The lobby is crowded for the end-of-day rush, and getting out of the front doors will be a pain. Ulquiorra clears a path for the boss, shoving people out ot the way. Finally, they make their way out of the glass doors. Ulquiorra hands the ticket to the valet.
"Ulquiorra," Aizen calls.
"Yes, sir?" He halts abruptly, turning to face the taller man.
"You are one cold bastard." It is a compliment. Aizen grabs his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Ulquiorra nods once, eyes downcast. "I hope we never become adversaries."
.
.
A few meters away, inside the glass walls of the building, someone watches the three men get into the shiny black car. His hands ball into fists as the car drives past, and he doesn't move until they are out of sight.
.
.
It has been four days since Orihime left her sketchpad in the car. Four sleepless, anxiety-filled nights that have her wondering if she should just leave the country or go into hiding or just never come out of her apartment. Ever. Groaning, she huddles under her blanket, watching the late afternoon sunset melt into night.
The text message from Tatsuki has her jumping a foot in the air, as on-edge as Orihime currently is. 'Are you feeling better? I can come over with food.'
'No, thank you,' Orihime types back. 'I don't want you to catch my cold.' She feels a pang of guilt for deceiving her friend, but she figures it'll be safer for Tatsuki not to get involved. But that is, of course, assuming that Ulquiorra even cares about her stupid drawings to make her pay. She kicks at the air in frustration, punching her pillow savagely. "Why am I so stupid?" she moans aloud, sitting up. "Why, why, why?"
Finally, she decides to get out of bed, to do something productive today. "Four days of wallowing is enough, Inoue," she scolds herself. After a hot shower and a hastily eaten bowl of ramen, Orihime feels a little better. She decides to clean up her living room, and with that task completed in a few minutes, she heads into her bedroom to reorganize her closet.
She pulls everything out, rearranging them according to colour. It takes her the better part of an hour, but then she comes across something that makes her gasp. "My school uniform!"
It has been five years since she has worn it, so she tries it on to see if it still fits. The buttons struggle mightily to contain her ample chest, and then she pulls on the yellow sweater, giving a sigh of relief when it covers the exposed cleavage. The pleated grey skirt is a little bit more of a challenge, as it looks like she has gained weight around the hip area. She sucks her stomach in to get the hooks to close, and then struggles with the zipper at the back of her hips.
Then she looks at her reflection in the mirror, and bursts out laughing. "I look like a sausage!" she giggles to herself. For the heck of it, Orihime digs through her sock drawer until she finds her white knee socks, and then goes to the bathroom to do up her hair in pigtails. In her accessory drawer, she pulls out the little blue flower pins that Sora gave her, and then she pauses. Sora's old glasses are there, the thick black frames that she used to tease him about, with the lenses long since popped out.
With a giggle, she slips them on, prancing over to her brother's photo in the little shrine she keeps for him. "Look, bro. Your little sis is being silly," she tells him, pressing a kiss to her fingertips before touching the glass of his frame. She picks up her cell phone, seeing the message light blink.
The knock on her door has her looking up. "Oh, Tatsuki," she sighs, as she swings the door open. "I told you not to bother, I'm feeling- " Her voice trails off as she meets the astonished eyes of Grimmjow. With a squeak, her instincts kick in, and she slams the door in his face, successfully locking it.
"Please… Go away!" she calls out, her back to the door, just in case. "I will call the police, if you do not leave."
She hears a slight shuffling outside the door, sounding like there is more than one person outside. There is a brief pause, and then what sounds like a few people conferring with each other. Then it is his voice. "Woman, I will not let you come to any harm."
Oh God, he is here. Orihime panics, collapsing on the floor on shaking legs. "Please… go away," she yells through the door, praying they do just that. More murmurs can be heard, before he tries again. "Orihime Inoue, trust me. Please open the door."
This is the first time Ulquiorra has ever used her name, and the fangirl in her has fainted dead away.
Rising on unsteady legs, she looks through the peephole. He is definitely there, with the blue-haired bully, and Mr. Aizen. Swallowing hard, she unlocks the door, and opens it warily. "W-what do you want?" she stammers out.
The three men take in her school uniform, pigtails, and glasses with varying reactions; Grimmjow blushing a deep red, his eyes round as he scans her from head to toe; Mr. Aizen smiling with too many teeth; and Ulquiorra averting his gaze, the usual blank expression on his face.
Mr. Aizen speaks up first. "Can we come in?" he asks smoothly, gesturing to the pouring rain.
Warily, she nods. "But if you try anything, I'm calling the police," she tells them, gripping her phone tightly.
Mr. Aizen smiles guilelessly. "Fair enough." He stands in the middle of her living room, his eyes scanning her paintings on the wall, the drawings on her fridge, and even the photos on her shelf. Then his eyes fall onto the shrine. He walks over, picking up Sora's photo. "Is this your brother?" he asks lightly.
Orihime feels unsettled at the invasion of her private space. "Yes, that is Sora. May I offer you some tea?" Good manners overrule her sense of self-preservation. Grimmjow though is acting out of character, bashfully hiding in the corner.
Mr. Aizen smiles politely. "Yes please. Ulquiorra, why don't you help her?"
Ulquiorra nods, and turns to face her expressionlessly. "No, I can do it myself!" she squeaks, backing away.
"No, please allow him to assist. It is only right, since we are imposing on you," Mr. Aizen says smoothly, watching her squirm with a secret smile on his face. She retreats into the kitchen, Ulquiorra on her heels.
He pulls out the cups at her direction as she sets the water on to boil. They fall into an awkward silence again, with him studying the tiles on the ground as she looks everywhere but at him.
"When did you lose -" he begins.
Her eyes crash into his, all the colour draining from her face. The dishtowel in her hand drops to the floor. Here it comes.
"Your brother?" Ulquiorra continues in his monotone. Then he stops. "I apologize, if this is a sensitive topic."
"No, no, it's fine. He died seven years ago," Orihime gives him a weak smile, turning away to steep the tea. She heaves a quiet sigh of relief. Maybe he has not seen the sketchpad yet. They lapse into silence again. She hands him the tray and they make their way to the living room.
Aizen has made his seat on the armchair, looking as if he stepped out of a magazine. She notices that her photo albums are open on the coffee table. Ulquiorra hands him his tea, and then hands a cup to Orihime. "Please, have a seat, Miss Inoue," Aizen purrs. "Grimmjow here has something to say to you."
Orihime sinks into the sofa, taking a sip of her cup, as Grimmjow goes to his knees in front of her, touching his forehead to the floor in a deep bow of apology. "I am so sorry for my actions against you," he announces, settling back on his ankles, and then bowing down again. "I deeply regret scaring you and being inappropriate."
Grimmjow's face is red, as he seems transfixed by her attire. There is a fading bruise on his left eye and he averts his gaze suddenly.
Then Mr. Aizen turns to look at her expectantly. "I know this is nowhere near enough compensation for the distress and trauma that we have caused you, so we come with presents. Ulquiorra, if you please." Ulquiorra fetches a bag from beside the door, and unpacks it on the table. Mr. Aizen presents a white box to Orihime. "I understand that you love music. Please accept this." She stares down in confusion. It is the latest version of the iPod, one that hasn't even come out in Japan yet.
"No, I cannot, it is too much," Orihime says firmly, pushing it back at him.
Mr. Aizen unpacks it, smiling at her. "You can and you will. Besides, we made a special playlist for you on there." He leans over, hooking the top-of-the-line headphones over her head, and pressing the play button. Strains of Bach's Prelude to the Cello Suites flood her senses, causing her to flush as her eyes snap to Ulquiorra, remembering the car. He is silent, staring elsewhere.
The music is abruptly cancelled as Mr. Aizen pulls off the earpieces, his face uncomfortably close to hers. She jerks backwards. "And I did not know you were still in high school, Miss Inoue. Or I would not have gotten you the annual pass for the entire Tokyo Museum system. Some of their content is inappropriate for minors." His eyes heat up, and he sips his tea. "I can change them out-"
Orihime is torn. She has always wanted to see all the museums but has never been able to afford all of the passes. "Oh, I am not in high school," she says ruefully, realizing that she is, in fact, still in uniform. "I was just trying it on." With a regretful sigh, she puts the iPod back in the box and hands it to Mr. Aizen. "Thank you for your gifts, but there is no need. I accept Mr. Jaegerjaques' apology, as he seems to have reflected on his mistakes." She bows to Grimmjow. "Thank you for your apology."
"No, I insist." Mr. Aizen smiles, all teeth. "I really would like to get to know you better. And here," he dangles her little flip phone from a finger. "I've taken the liberty of putting my number and Ulquiorra's and Grimmjow's. If there is anything you need, let me know."
She snatches it out of his hands, warily. "Thank you."
"So tell me about yourself, Miss Inoue? I am a little concerned that one as beautiful as you is living all alone in the city." He settles into his chair, holding out his cup. Ulquiorra pours tea into it like the perfect butler. "What about your family?"
.
.
The sniper sights the dark brown head of hair through the rifle, setting the crosshairs right on Aizen's temple. 'It would be so easy,' he thinks, 'and this would end it all.'
He spotted Grimmjow on his knees earlier, a look of embarrassment on his face. He watched Grimmjow bow to a woman with red hair, and relished his humiliation. He could not get a clear view of her face, but whoever she was, she must have been someone important for him to bow like that.
Now, he observes the people in the apartment below interact with each other. Then the woman turns, and he can see her face. The sniper whistles under his breath, surprised. 'That girl,' he thinks, 'grew up to be delectable.'
He watches Ulquiorra stand behind her protectively, his gaze on her whenever she is not looking. He smirks and murmurs, "Really, Cuatro?"
The sniper stretches his arms and shoulders, and then packs up his rifle. There will be other days, and better opportunities. But first, he has to process all this new information.
.
.
Another knock on the door has the men in the room tensing up. "Are you expecting anyone, Miss Inoue?" Mr. Aizen asks, setting the cup down.
Orihime shakes her head, eyes on the door. Her eyes widen in shock as the men in white suits pull out scary-looking guns from inside their suit jackets. She has never even seen guns outside of television. Aizen pats her hand soothingly. She pulls her hand away, eyes glued to the entryway.
Grimmjow pulls out his gun and flattens himself next to the front door, while Ulquiorra grabs his handgun, hiding it behind his back as he turns the knob.
"Hime-chan! It's us!" the cheerful voice rings out from behind the door.
Orihime rises to her feet, squeaking, "Wait, don't shoot!" just as Ulquiorra opens the door. Tatsuki, Chizuru and Ichigo stand there, holding grocery bags.
"Um… Do we have the right apartment?" Tatsuki wonders, checking the house number.
Ichigo's eyes narrow, as he glares at Ulquiorra. "It's you. Cif- The asshole."
"Grumpy Cat!" Chizuru snarls at the same time, shoving past him. "Hime-chan, are you okay?"
Ulquiorra tucks his gun back into his waistband discreetly, straightening his coat.
"Umm, why are you in our high school uniform?" Tatsuki gasps, looking between her and Mr. Aizen. The three of them stare at her for a long moment before arriving at the incorrect conclusions.
"Oh my God," Chizuru gasps, "Are you an escort? Is he your sugar daddy? Is that why Grumpy Cat was coming every week to the coffee shop? And -" she notices Grimmjow for the first time beside the door, "why he attacked us at work?"
"What?" Orihime squawks, sputtering. "N-no! Of course not!"
"Is he into some kind of kinky schoolgirl roleplay?" Tatsuki demands, planting herself squarely between Orihime and Mr. Aizen. At this, Grimmjow chokes and starts coughing uncontrollably.
"And are you in some kind of gang?" Chizuru wails, flanking Orihime's other side. "Oh my God, Orihime, you should have told us you were in some kind of trouble!" Only Ichigo remains silent, his arms crossed as he observes the men in the room, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Guys, it's okay!" Orihime stammers, her face redder than her hair as she waves her hands in the air frantically. "Mr. Jaegerjaques came here to apologize! Nothing more than that. Mr. Aizen was kind enough to bring him here, and Mr. Cifer knew the way."
Silence greets her announcement. "So… Why does Mr. Cifer know where you live, Orihime?" Ichigo asks finally. All eyes fall on the silent green-eyed man beside Orihime, who calmly sips the rest of his tea, and then collects all the cups on the tray.
"Ah, Ichigo, it's so nice of you to come," Orihime beams, trying to distract him. "This is your first time to come visit, thank you for coming. But as you can see, I'm fine! Really! Um, would you like some tea?" She doesn't wait for an answer, backing away towards the safety of the kitchen.
"I'll go with you," Chizuru says firmly, grabbing the tray from Ulquiorra's arms.
Mr. Aizen stands, brushing off his pants. He walks over to her, grabbing her slender wrist in his hand before she can escape. "Well, it's time we headed out. My dear Miss Inoue, I would like to see you again soon." Then, he bows over it, brushing a kiss over her knuckles. "Perhaps in the coming week. And of course you will see Ulquiorra before then, on Tuesday, I believe." He turns to the other three, smiling benignly. "It was wonderful to meet you all. We shall take our leave."
Grimmjow bows after him, still blushing, while Ulquiorra pauses, as if he was about to say something. Then, he gives his head a slight shake, and says, "Goodnight, Orihime Inoue," in his quiet voice, meeting her eyes for a moment.
She returns his gaze, suddenly feeling flushed. For a moment, it feels like she cannot breathe. Then he turns away, breaking the spell. She watches him walk to the door, exchange a wary glare with Ichigo, and head out the open doorway.
"Oh my God, is that the unreleased iPod?" Chizuru squeaks, snapping her out of her daze. Orihime turns to her friends, bracing herself for the coming interrogation.
.
.
"Were you able to ask Orihime about her brother, Ulquiorra?" Aizen asks, once they are driving away from her condo.
"She said that he passed away seven years ago," Ulquiorra answers as he navigates through the streets of Tokyo.
"Mmm." Aizen flicks a finger over the stolen photo of a young Orihime with her brother. "She is the one I was looking for, then. The names and dates match. But she doesn't seem to know me." He puts his chin on his fist, musingly. "Such a pretty, innocent little thing. Ulquiorra, Grimmjow, I'm going to give you both a special assignment."
Grimmjow peers back at him from the passenger seat of Ulquiorra's immaculately clean BMW. "Yes, sir?"
"I want you both to keep a close watch on our friend, Miss Inoue." His long finger strokes the rounded cheeks of the teenage Orihime in the photo. "Find out everything you can about her and her family. Especially you, Ulquiorra. She seems to have taken a liking to you. You can use that to your advantage."
Ulquiorra turns his head briefly and nods in acknowledgement, his fingers tightening on the wheel.
.
.
The next day, Ulquiorra steps into the glass doors of the business tower owned by Mr. Aizen. He has to admire his superior´ s business acumen. Underneath all of his gang activities, he has made the foundation of his empire in the red-hot real estate market of Tokyo, buying properties right and left in the city centre. And this building, Las Noches Tower, is the base of Mr. Aizen's operations.
"Has Mr. Aizen come in yet?" he asks the security guard. The man shakes his head, bowing politely. Ulquiorra decides to head over to the convenience store on the corner of the building, to grab some supplies. He turns the corner, and a flash of orange catches his eye.
It is the woman's friend, the one who barged in last night. He had a fruit name, of sorts, and interrogated her as if he had the right. Ulquiorra's eyes narrow a fraction of an inch. Does the woman like this man? He recalls the flush on her face when the fruit-boy entered the shop, so many weeks ago.
He follows him into the convenience store, keeping it casual by slipping his hands in his pockets. 'This orange-headed man- boy, really, even if he is all muscled,' Ulquiorra snorts to himself, 'his caveman chest-beating is quite juvenile.' The boy makes a beeline for the table near the window.
'It doesn't matter,' Ulquiorra thinks, heading straight for the cooler to help himself to a bottled coffee drink. The chimes on the door tinkle; a woman, petite and dark-haired, enters the convenience store. Ulquiorra grabs a package of wet wipes, some breath mints, and a Batman-themed Pocky, taking them to the counter. As he is paying for the items with his platinum card, he notices that the boy has gone silent. He accepts the bag and walks slowly to the door, trying to catch a glimpse of the orange-headed idiot.
'It is research,' he tells himself, 'because Mr. Aizen is interested in the woman, and she is interested in this boy.'
His step falters as he clears the last shelf and finds the boy locked in a passionate embrace with the woman who just came in. He quickly averts his gaze and walks out, the chimes jangling after him.
Ulquiorra is surprised to find himself annoyed by this turn of events. 'Because when the woman finds out, she will cry,' he frowns, exasperated. 'She is too soft. She should know better than to like idiots such as him, who would only lead her on. And what right did he have to go to the woman's home, demanding that she explain our presence?'
The woman said she was attracted to Ulquiorra as well. A crush, she called it. He would rather not be lumped into the same group as that boy, thank you very much.
He glances over his shoulder to see the couple through the window, holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes. It is enough to make his skin crawl. He twists the top of the drink he just purchased, and takes a long swig of the iced coffee, before turning back and trudging towards the front of the building.
'Not my problem,' he reminds himself, taking another sip. Except now, it actually is. He does not want to have to deal with a broken-hearted romantic like Orihime. And if the red-headed boy is out of the picture, then… All of her affections would focus on him. That would make the situation even more annoying.
Ulquiorra knocks back the rest of his drink, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. A memory, unbidden, comes to him, of the look in her eyes as he pulled away from their accidental kiss. The complete and utter devastation of her defenses from that simple contact, and still she sought him out to apologize the next day. He is man enough to admit that the softness of her lips was… confusing… and he will not repeat that experience again, merely because of the loss of control it represents.
He looks at the autumn morning sky for a brief moment, before heading inside.
…
A/N : I'll be updating this once a week. Cheers! Also, as far as I know, there is no Batman-themed Pocky. *tears*