Chapter.4: Aversion
She moved mechanically through the white halls, her feet encased in wedge heels, the ties in a bow above each ankle. The long flowing skirt cinched at the waist by a black ribbon, the neckline square but unrevealing except for a tiny amethyst pillow—cushion cut stone dangling from a teeny gold vail attached to a thin gold chain fastened around her neck.
Now she wondered who had picked out that gift…?
Certainly not Grimmjow, he didn't have enough class. The little Arrancar servant walked ahead, escorting her to wide double doors that were in an area she hadn't ever seen before. Thick paned windows ran along one end, heavy drapes of crimson damask hung stiffly, elegantly, though she'd be damned if she were to comment on Aizen's impeccable taste.
One side of the doors was swept open at the thin piping voice announcing, "Kuchiki Rukia-sama, entering." Rukia raised an eyebrow, knowing the peacock violet eye shadow to be highlighting her eyes in a most flattering way. One thing was, the little Arrancar did know fashion. An impatient wave mingled with beaming pride ushered her into the large room, the lights were muted giving the impression of inborn delicacy and not just to impress.
A long rectangular table was in the center and a single chair was drawn out next to the smiling man who wore white robes, his hair combed back and his gentle gesture meant for her to approach made shivers run up her spine. It was all she could do but keep walking steadily toward Aizen, the door closing with a preemptory boom as if shutting her inside with his vile presence.
The rest of the white silk-covered chairs were empty, she noticed, thankfully Ichimaru was nowhere in sight. For that would have made the ordeal that much more unpleasant. "How are you this evening, my dear?" Aizen questioned in a low purr. Her skin crawled, her fist settling on her lap, clenching with held in anger. "Fine. Thank you," she replied shortly. A delicate stemmed glass sat in her place setting filled with clear liquid, water, she assumed, reaching for it, giving herself something to do.
The cold liquid had yet to touch her lips when he spoke again, in a much more aggrieved tone, "it's certainly a pity your brother couldn't join us. I so longed to entertain a Noble at my humble table." Rukia with deliberate care set her glass back down, unable to disguise the shaking convulsing her hand. Aizen observed her steely look straight ahead at the chair across from her, as if she'd like nothing better than to rip it apart. "But then I have you, my dear. Don't I? You're just as much a Noble as Byakuya is—pardon me. Was."
"What do you want from me!?" accusingly her eyes went to his handsome face, a self-deprecating smile twisting his mouth. "Why nothing. Except the world, a foolish dream perhaps? Don't you think so?" he asked in all evident sincerity. Rukia stared at him, her mind unable to fathom the man before her and his crazed way of thinking. He was crazy…insane even.
His brown eyes bore into hers, the firm jaw still set in a smile so unlike his subordinate's. He leaned forward, catching her chin in his strong hand when she tried to turn away. "Tell me, my dear. Is my wish so unrealistic?" his breath was stirring her lashes, her palms were pressing against the table's edge to keep from being pulled any closer.
Pressure flowing in at the edges, mellifluous energy pouring into her mind, creating images from the dense haze overcoming her steeled soul; Rukia cried out, trying to twist away but his grip on her was tight, showing her what she had been most afraid of: Ichigo's death.
The room was as white as all the rooms in the accursed palace were; two figures stood close to each other, one over the other, in his pale white hands, a staff of pure lightning jutted out from the bloodied back of a kneeling form. Ichigo, his bright hair smudged with red, his black coat ripped, his pained screams rattling the dense air. Ulquiorra mercilessly pushed the lightning spear deeper into Ichigo's back, his words emotionless, "release the Hollow inside of you. That is—"
"Never!!!!"
"Suit yourself."
His final cries tore at her heart, Ishida, she noticed, stood beside a horrified Orihime. Her broken sobs filling the silence left after Ichigo's screams had faded. Ulquiorra withdrew his lightning spear, a smile twisting his features back into those of the man showing this scene to her.
"Aizen!" Orihime gasped uncomprehendingly. Ishida suddenly struck the orange-haired girl across the face, her body slamming into the wall. Unsteadily she looked up, her hand going to the reddened mark coloring her pale cheeks, "Uryuu? But…
"Shatter, Kyokasuigetsu," Aizen commanded, the lightning transforming into a long katana in his hands. Ishida grinned, displaying a wolfish grin and black eye patch over one eye. His hair lengthened, falling beneath a round hood and white clothes. "Nnoitra…" Orihime crawled back, her fear obvious knowing that her means of salvation were few and faraway.
"Listen to me, girl. You are going back to them—say nothing of this. You will act normal—convince them that what they see is real," Aizen took a step toward her and she winced, expecting to be struck again. The bloodied heap that was Ichigo, twitched, moaning feebly.
"I-Ichigo?"
The relief was clear in Orihime's voice yet it wasn't the leering face that raised itself from the dead chest that caused her to fall back and scream. No. It was the hole, straight through his left breast, perfect as the others were, and the mask with golden and black markings covering half his face.
"Hello, poppet." Shirosaki greeted.
The scene changed and Ichigo was leading Orihime from the tower to the waiting band of Shinigamies. Ishida followed them more slowly, dragging his feet tiredly as if exhausted from the battle. Rukia saw them, remembered the words he'd said and playful jokes he had made to Byakuya. And it was all a lie. Her Ichigo was dead. Dead. And forced to reconcile his body to the living horror inside of him. Orihime had simply gone along with it, her pained smile speaking volumes for the threat she was under in order for betraying her friends in exchange for the man she loved.
Rukia hated her.
Bitterly. For it had all been her fault from the very beginning.
~~~*~~~
Aizen withdrew his hand away from her, smiling at the heaving of her chest and racing heart. Her eyes dull and dispirited; a side door opened then, spilling out from a brilliantly lit hallway an orange-haired girl clothed in hateful white. "Rukia!" Orihime cried, running to the table. Ichimaru stood in the doorway, watching, waiting for the rebuke he was sure would come.
"Don't touch me!"
Rukia yanked her arm away from the startled human girl. Orihime's eyes filled, "Rukia? It's me…I thought you'd be—"
"What? Happy to see you…" her voice broke at the end and she couldn't continue. Standing up, she boldly made to push her chair back and walk away but Orihime stubbornly grabbed her, fiercely holding onto the one person she still had left. Rukia felt Aizen watching the proceedings with an interest based solely on them providing him with entertainment.
Her hand flew out, striking the girl back. Limply she fell to the floor, her gray eyes hurt and terribly confused. "Rukia? I don't—"
"Murderer."
Ichimaru strode forward, helping Orihime to her feet, her shocked expression venting a little of the burning fire inside of Rukia's soul. It wasn't entirely the poor girl's fault, she bitterly thought, her chest easing from the tearless mask of grief tautening her face. Ichimaru called back before the door closed on her former broken friend, "I'll join you after I put Ms. Inoue to bed."
Rukia sat back down stiffly, her head buried in her arms on the table. Aizen took a sip of his water, giving her a gentle pat on the top of her hair with his free hand. "Don't worry, Rukia-dear. We'll take good care of you here."
She wasn't sure which she preferred:
The thought of death or living in hell for the rest of her days.
~~~To be continued~~~
A/N: is this fic looking darker by the chapter or what? Grins, hoped you liked it! Please review! :) sorry I didn't have time to fit Byakuya's fight in, next time!
