Show Me
It really was a nuisance, Ulquiorra thought, his lips dangerously thin while his arms crossed in front of his chest. Grimmjow was a fool for trapping him in this dimension of darkness just so that he could play with his newly chosen toy.
Ulquiorra's eyelids lowered slightly, offering a condescending look into the dark.
Childish.
When he finally emerged, free of this cursed dimension, he would be sure to kill him, if he wasn't already dead. Even from within the void, the 4th Espada could feel reiatsu around him and could clearly recognize many battles happening at once around Las Noches; however, he could not determine whether or not the sexta Espada was among them. But he could care less about Grimmjow's pathetic conquests.
Floating along in the darkness, Ulquiorra felt quite content to let the other Espada play. It really was of no concern to him if they lived or died, but rather that he carried out his duties swiftly and fully. However, his duty was taken from him, and there laid the real reason for his annoyance. The girl, his girl, really, had been separated from him. And what made it even more aggravating was that Grimmjow had known. Somehow, the barbarian had recognized his connection with the human and that taking her would be doubly effective in spiting him as would be the defeat of Kurosaki Ichigo.
Eyes like green poison narrowed as a hand felt blindly against his chest to where pain seared from his hollow hole. It had been revenge, Ulquiorra had quickly deducted, for his initial interference with Grimmjow's hunt. He had stolen Grimmjow's prey, and for that, Grimmjow had stolen his.
Closing his eyes, Ulquiorra flared his reiatsu and felt the tight feeling ease slightly as small bits of the cube residing within his hollow hole deteriorated. He could not be erased by such a weak device, but it was a very aggravating situation all the same.
With a sigh, Ulquiorra stared out into the darkness once more. It really was a dull place, not suitable for a hollow of his level at all. He couldn't die, but he could do little else than float along in the blackness as patiently as possible. Flippantly, he wondered if he was floating upright, or perhaps on his head, as he didn't possess any sense of direction within the void.
Ulquiorra could only hope that the sexta Espada survived, for it would be all too sweet to silence him for good. And if he truly thought he feared fighting him, he was an even bigger fool. Feelings of fear were reserved for Aizen alone. Nothing else could possibly frighten him.
The world he belonged to was dark, with white-painted walls in place to conceal its true nature. Aizen's strength was illusion, but Ulquiorra's was sight. In reality, those white walls were black as well; but even in the dark, there was light. For a long time, he had thought it impossible to harbor such a thing in the depths of Hueco Mundo, but he had brought that light himself - that warm orange glow that flickered so steadily. It was a small flame, but a strong one as well.
Focusing outward again, Ulquiorra felt the steady warmth of the woman somewhere in the distance. She was the easiest reiatsu to focus on, he found, though he was unsure of as to why. But she was there, alive and strong still, and for that he felt an alien sense of relief.
At least he had not completely failed Aizen, and for that, relief could be felt (or so he rationalized).
If he closed his eyes, he found that he could picture her. He thought that now she would wear a look of fear, and he felt an emotion similar to disgust well up within him. She really was an annoying girl; she was full of such potential, and yet she showed fear so easily. When he had first seen her, she had shown only fear, and she had been trash. A hasty conclusion, he felt, knew, now, but at the time she hadn't mattered then. No, she had not meant something until she had stood and faced Yami, her friend's lives hanging in the balance with only her determination to stand in the way. It had been then that he had seen it, perhaps his favorite emotion out of the endless sea she had expressed thus far.
Defiance.
It had been so surprising, so spectacular, that he had felt something stir within him at that look that rejected fear. It had not been the first time he had seen that look, though that particular sentiment was well hidden within Hueco Mundo by those brave (or foolish) enough to have shown it.
Never before had he felt interest in anything but his duty. But she, a mere human, had intrigued him.
The next time he had seen her, she was once again fearful, but mostly despairing. With but a few words, he had broken her down, taken away all her hope of escape, and left her with only one choice. But as hopelessly beautiful she looked as a martyr, it was not the look he had desired.
It hadn't been until he came to finally retrieve her from her world to take her into his had she shown it again. When he appeared before her, there had been a moment when she had looked into his eyes, and he saw it. Her jaw tightened, her shoulders moved back as she walked towards him, and her eyebrows tensed. He watched her closely, recording everything, but for the first time it wasn't for Aizen to see. For the first time, it was for himself; he wanted to remember.
She had looked him square in the eyes, and even though she was trembling, her voice was strong as she told him, "I'm ready."
He had truly found Aizen a treasure among all of the garbage in the world. The woman hadn't even shown fear as she appeared before Aizen, with the arrancar gathering to get a look at the silent thing Ulquiorra had brought, silent and fragile like a glass figurine. But he knew better, and they learned as well once her power was made known; suddenly, she was the woman that held the power of the gods. They didn't understand her, though they knew she was Aizen's new tool and treated her as such.
But it was Ulquiorra who was chosen to protect her, out of favor; or maybe it was something else, though he refused to question it. And as her guard, he had continued to watch her, and she only intrigued him further, to the point where he could begin to admit it to himself.
What a strong woman.
Never would he have imagined himself calling a human strong, but there she was, surprising him still. He would test her strength too, to see how far it could be pushed. Ulquiorra trailed two fingers idly down his cheek at the remembrance. He had received a slap for that, but also had been rewarded with her most defiant look yet. Her eyes had nearly sparked a flame while her fingers, cold and bitter, might have frozen him.
When she had touched him, his initial impulse had been to strike her, but this act he found nearly impossible to perform. Harming her had suddenly become an action forbidden, and he wondered when that change had occurred. Never had he felt he could not fight back against someone.
But she had been harmed.
She had cried for the first time since coming to Hueco Mundo. He could hear her from the hall as he stood, back against her door, his head inclined slightly. His cheek tingled oddly, but even more disturbing was the anger he felt. At the time, he hadn't known why he was angry, or with whom he was angry.
Now, Ulquiorra could recognize the source of his anger, although it was troubling and difficult to admit. Since then, she had been harmed more severely than from his own actions, and he had not been there to prevent it. Her blood had caked the floor in her now ruined room, and his anger had returned ten fold.
And now he was trapped, helpless to do anything. The beasts had been released, and there she stood in the middle of destruction and death in her blood-splattered white. And with everything happening around her, she would once again forget her power, because she had always been saved. She had always had someone, and her strength was never given a chance to grow. Kurosaki could never realize that fact; it was his job to save others, and it had seemed like it was her job to be saved.
But then suddenly, in the midst of blaming the hero, a sudden realization fell upon the Espada and his eyes widened while his fingers itched faintly. Would he, could he treat her the same? The anger he had felt knowing she had been harmed was so real, so vivid. He did not experience such intense emotions. He wouldn't, he couldn't…but he had. Fingers relaxing, he moved his hands to his pockets and calmed himself, diminishing the reiatsu he had been spilling.
He was not the hero, had no desire to be, and Inoue Orihime did not need another hero. No, she needed to be pushed, so that the power he knew was deep within her could grow. The strength he saw in her defiance needed to be realized and put to the test. Ulquiorra couldn't even begin to imagine what she could accomplish if given the motive, the reason to do it. Her power could be large enough to shake both Soul Society and Hueco Mundo, and yet small enough to touch even the coldest of hearts.
And Ulquiorra would be there to witness it, for he felt compelled now to follow her and watch her develop. He would let her fight on her own, but when she could do no more he would be there, the silent blade falling on those who would stop her. Perhaps it had not been such a waste after all, being trapped in the dimension of the caja negacion. This would give the woman a chance to stand on her own. And maybe, when he returned, he would be gifted with another look from her.
Ulquiorra's lips lifted a fraction.
Show me, onna…
A/N: I really cant get enough of this pairing, what can i say.
Special thanks to my chu-koi for beta-ing this for me!!
-Miss Soupy
