I have to apologize to the wonderful artists Dwellin and Airumel, I forgot to mention this last time but Dwellin has once again spoiled me rotten with gorgeous fanart for Grimmjow/Soifon and Ulquiorra/Orihime. Both pieces are wonderful and include lots of wonderful scenes from their relationship. Also Both Dwellin and Airumel have drawn AMAZING fanart for Byakuya/Halibel. The pieces both just blew me away and both of the Byakuya/Halibel ones are definitely going to be scenes later on in the story. I'll let you know which ones they are.
Also as per the requests I've gotten I've started a story with IchiRuki as the focus. Its called Verona. So that means I've got four big stories (Toro Nagashi, Arcana, Verona and Scarlet) so I beg your understanding in the sporadic updating.
VioTanequil is an awesome beta reader!
As the tattooist drew the inky lines across Renji's outer thigh, the red haired Vice Captain kept his eyes on the ceiling.
"You seem unusually quiet," the Tattooist observed, "When you come here you're usually loud enough to wake the District," the man wiped a hand across the darkened skin, "Your accomplishments usually shine brightly on your face. Today you are as dark as the ink."
"You remember that girl I brought here?"
"The Phoenix," the Tattooist replied instantly, "It is difficult to forget those that shine so bright."
"She's also the only girl you've ever brought here," he said, "I was wondering when I'd meet the violet eyed one you'd always be blabbering about," Renji felt his cheeks heat up, "but I think I preferred the Phoenix to her," he said, "It is rare to find someone like that," his hands paused, "don't tell me you've gone and lost her again."
"Nah," Renji said, "well, actually, I guess I did."
"You guess? How exactly do you not know if you lost someone?"
"Oh, she's gone alright, but I didn't loose her. Not like I did before anyway," he said.
"Where did she fly off too?" he asked.
"The transient world," Renji said, "without her memories or anything like that. She's got to finish the story she wasn't able to before. She's got to finish her life, the life she would have had if she hadn't been killed."
"To be worried about another is a perfectly natural thing," he said.
Renji said nothing. He had not thought that the strange feeling inside him was worry but he supposed that it was not a stretch to think it was. He was actually worried about her. It actually was not that far fetched a thought. He did, after all, love the green haired woman, despite all her craziness and the time she pushed him away. Despite everything or perhaps it was because of everything he loved about her. He was glad that she loved him and even more that she loved him and realized it before this had all happened.
It would make it far less awkward when she came back.
"Wonder where she is," he said aloud.
"Have you tried to contact the others in the transient world?" the Tattooist asked. Renji frowned, confused, "you mentioned Ryoka and not all of them seem to have died."
"The King said that we couldn't help them," he said.
"Last I heard, the Quincy's were not under the jurisdiction of the King of the Shinigami."
Renji's eyes widened as he looked down at the man tattooing his leg with wide eyes. Still intent on his work the man did not look up from Renji's skin, seemingly unaware of the fact that his client was possibly suffering a heart attack. The King had said they couldn't help but if anyone had an ace up his sleeve it was Uryuu Ishida. Though he did not want to jeopardize their ability to come home, Renji did not want to sit back and do nothing. He couldn't do anything but he knew Ishida could. He probably would as well. He could help them or at least he could know where they were.
"You know, you're pretty smart," he said looking down at the old man.
"We all have our moments of brilliance," he said sitting back, "There," he looked up at Renji, "you'll run out of skin at this rate."
"What'll you do then?" he asked.
"Go over lines again," the old man said with a shrug.
Renji got to his feet and pulled his hakama on. Grabbing Zabimaru he nodded his thanks before taking off back to the Court of Pure Souls.
"Gin? Gin 'hic where're we going?"
Gin looked at the very beautiful, very drunk woman leaning on him and shook his head with a sigh. He had gone to the Tenth Division to discover what he feared was true. Though his tolerance was about a little as it had been when he was a kid, apparently Matsumoto had decided to celebrate her return with her Captain in a very sake-heavy way. No-one could ever say no to Matsumoto and when they did it was always just a matter of time before they changed their minds. Given how drunk the two of them were, Gin had a feeling that it hadn't taken much for him to agree to the drinking.
"You just want to have sex with me," Matsumoto accused hotly.
"Ran, I don't think there's a guy in Soul Society who doesn't want to have sex with you," he said looking down at her.
"Well, too bad for them," she said throwing up a hand, "the only one I wanna have sex with is you."
Gin snorted and shook his head, his grin not requiring any effort to keep in place. He had made the decision that Ran was going to be spending the night--and hopefully many nights to come--in the Third Division with him. She had put up no protests as they made their way through Soul Society. Gin knew that with any luck she'd have forgotten Hitsugaya's older appearance by morning thanks to the fact she had practically consumed her bodyweight in sake. If there was one thing that Gin knew, it was that Matsumoto screamed very loudly. Hitsugaya would thank him one day. Of course, considering they had just survived another near-war he imagined that the infamous 10th Division Captain was going to be very busy with his fiancée.
"That's nice to know, Ran," he said as they neared the Division.
"I still want my necklace back," she slurred out. He looked down at the top of her head, his ruby eyes wide with surprise, "I know you have it. It was a present from, uh, from you! Yeah! For my birthday all those years ago," she stopped walking and turned so she was facing him. She jabbed a finger into his chest, "so you better give me back my necklace, Gin Ichimaru."
"I'll get your necklace when we get back," he promised, "I don't have your scarf though."
"S'okay," she said, "you can get me a new one."
"Okay," he said, "I'll get you a new one," they finally stepped into the Third Division.
"You've still got the Persimmon Trees!" Matsumoto cried with joy, "good, I'm hungry!" she turned her head, "hey is that Orihime?" she demanded looking over her shoulder, "she looks sad," she pouted, "why is she sad?"
"Why do you think?" he asked.
Orihime had helped with the relief effort until Unohana gently, but firmly, told her to go. Orihime hadn't been home to the apartment she shared with Ulquiorra, not yet anyway. The last time she had been so shaken she had been locked in a room, quite unable to walk to clear her head. This time she was not and instead of pacing she was able to wander rather aimlessly around, trying to sort out her chaotic thoughts. She was currently wandering around the outskirts of the Court, trying to stay off the heavily trafficked paths. Soul Society, it seemed, was in something of an uproar over what had happened. The loss of a Captain, three Lieutenants and two other Seated Officers, however temporary, was enough to send shock waves through the place she called home. That coupled with the fact that the Commander General seemed to be somewhat less than enthusiastic about his position was enough that she was surprised Soul Society was still standing.
Ulquiorra being an Arrancar was not something Orihime could deny, given the fact that when she met him among his first words to here were his infamous one line 'come with me, woman'. Some of the new recruits had asked how they had met and poor Ulquiorra seemed so confused as to what to tell them that Soifon had stepped in and told them to fuck off. Orihime imagined that even when they had begun to spend more and more time in each other's company, the idea of loving another person was one that Ulquiorra had something of a hard time comprehending. After all, for someone who had spent most of their afterlife not knowing what a heart was, discovering what it was and then giving it away was jarring. Orihime had always been too trusting with her heart and Ulquiorra flat out told her on a regular basis until she sat him down and told him the only man she was trusting with her heart was him. He had been shocked but she had pointed out he kept the rest of her perfectly fine, why should her heart be any different?
Ever since she knew her brother became a Hollow because he wanted to stay by her, she had known that Ulquiorra hadn't finished his life. That there had to be a reason he hadn't come to Soul Society until Urahara and Mayuri had cured the Espada. Or cured them as much as they could, in any case. When the dreams started, she knew that it was only a matter of time before something happened to force him to confront his past. She may not have been able to foresee this, but she knew that there would be a day when he would have to deal with what made him, well, him. Orihime knew it and she accepted the fact. She certainly had accepted stranger things in her life.
She sometimes thought about what could have been.
What if Rukia hadn't come charging through Ichigo's window, would she just have been another Spirit he saw? What if she and Sado and all their friends hadn't developed Spiritual Pressure. They would have wound up in Soul Society of course but they would all be strangers, their slates would all be clean. She would have her different lifetimes, her different towns and all the things she had told Ichigo that she wished for the night she left him behind. She wondered if that would have somehow, somehow appealed to her. She supposed it would, right around the time when the 'Future Me' she talked about was a robot that could fire missiles from its chest. So much had changed.
When she got to Ulquiorra's rooms at the Second Division she was not surprised. She had barely even seen the inside of her own rooms in the Fourth. This was home, even if Ulquiorra was not in it at the moment. Her key opened the door just as it always had and she stepped through the doors into the apartment, half expecting it to just not be there anymore. How could it just be there, like nothing had happened? Everything was in order, their cloths still neatly put away. Her towel was still on the ground. How was it even possible that everything was just the same? He was gone and it seemed to make no sense that her home still looked the same.
"O-orihime?" Orihime turned to see Ayame, the Spirit that was far more attached to Ulquiorra than any other, peering at her anxiously.
"I'm alright," Orihime said, trying to smile and finding it very hard. She turned around and closed the door, locking it behind her, "really," she looked at the Spirits, "he'll be back very soon, you'll see. He'll be back in no time," she said walking to the bedroom, "I'm going to get my pajamas on."
"Should we drug the tea?" Shu'no asked her. Ayame said nothing.
Orihime opened the drawer and pulled out her regular sleeping cloths. A pile of Ulquiorra's laundry was in a basket by the bed. Orihime shook her head. He might have been neat and orderly but if there was one thing Ulquiorra hated it was to clean things. Or to put them away. Orihime sighed and bent down, picking up his cloths and going over to his drawers. She pulled them open and began to sort through the cloths. As she did her fingers brushed against something hard and not cloths-like. Shaking her head at his disorganization she sighed and pushed the shirts away, picking up the small black box.
Orihime frowned and looked at the object in her hands. Why would Ulquiorra have such a thing? Curiosity at the secrets the black box was keeping and courtesy at respecting Ulquiorra's privacy battled inside Orihime until the latter won out. She put the box on the top of the dresser and finished sorting the laundry, sliding the drawer shut. Her fingers itched though, even as she slid her nightgown over her head. Finally, unable to stand it for another moment she snatched the black box off the dresser. If it was for her, which she imagined it was, then she could always pretend to be surprised--even though Ulquiorra would probably see right through it. Oh well, it wasn't as though---
Orihime's eyes widened.
Her lips parted.
She sat down hard on the bed, the black box clutched in her hands like it was a lifeline.. Her eyes seemed to be going in and out of focus but even when her vision was blurry the gems twinkled back at her. When it was clear they were still there, sparkling up at her. Dark gold, almost sunset colored like her hair. There were seven stones set in the band, encircling it perfectly. Seven stones--six for her fairires and one for his Zanpakto. She felt a tug at the box and saw Ayame trying to pry it from her hands rather frantically.
"You're not supposed to see that!" the Spirit cried, "its supposed to be a surprise! A surprise that involves lilies!"
"H-he--" Orihime could barely get the words out, "he was going to--"
"He wanted to propose when this was over," Ayame said, finally releasing her tugging on the box. She flew over to Orihime's shoulder. The little Spirit's eyes welled with tears, "h-he let us pick out our stone because he didn't know what colors would look like us."
Orihime stared at the box, biting her lip softly as she looked at her perfect engagement ring. Taking a deep breath she gently closed the lid of the box and stood up, walking back over to the dresser. She slid open the drawer and riffled through until she found the shirt it had been hidden under. She tucked it neatly under the fabric, concealing it once again before she turned to Ayame.
"Now you can't tell him I saw it," she said.
"I won't," the Spirit promised, "but he'll know."
Orihime smiled softly.
"He always knows," she said, walking over to their bed, "well now Grimmjow can't say we're 'living in sin' anymore," she said laying down on his side of the bed.
"Grimmjow can't talk about anyone else's sins," Ayame said softly.
"That's very true," Orihime agreed, breathing in. The pillow still smelled like Ulquiorra, "tomorrow I'm going to have to go visit Soifon, even though she won't really like that," Orihime got comfortable in the bed, "'night," she said softly to the fairy.
She was asleep before she heard the reply, dreaming of Ulquiorra and wishing that he was home.
While the rest of Soul Society slept, the First Division was anything but peaceful.
"This is fucking bullshit!" Kensei's angry roar echoed in the offices of the Commander General, "we made a choice to stay the hell away from Soul Society! Damn it, I knew we shouldn't have come within ten miles of a portal! Now look at us!"
They did make a rather sorry sight. Always relatively close with her Hollow, Mashiro was in a corner hugging her knees to her chest weeping as quietly as she could. Kensei didn't ever particularly like his Hollow, and he might not have missed the bastard but he did not like it when Mashiro cried. Hiyori was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. Her head was bowed and she was clearly not enjoying being right in telling Shinji that they shouldn't come to Soul Society. Shinji looked, by far, the most furious of anyone there. The Captain's cloak with its cherry lining was in a heap in the corner. He was standing nearby, looking absolutely livid. If Kensei hadn't been so infuriated he would have been a bit afraid of what Shinji could do. But he was just as angry as the newly minted Commander General and a big part of him wished that Shinji would start a fight so he could hit something.
"Stop fucking crying!" he shouted over his shoulder as Mashiro hiccupped.
"B-but--" Mashiro blubbered, "but she's gone! I can't feel her!"
"Get over it!" Kensei snarled turning back to Shinji, "what are we supposed to do now huh? Just go back to being a Shinigami? Just pretend the past two hundred years was nothing more than a bad dream?!"
Shinji gave no reply. Normally Kensei would take his anger as a big sign that it was not a good idea to anger him. A quiet Shinji was like a suitcase bomb. It looked harmless, it looked like a suitcase, but the second it went off you were fucked. Still that logic was not quite enough to keep him from rounding on him. Kensei marched over to him and grabbed the ex Fifth Division Captain, current Commander General by his collar and slammed him against the wall. Shinji looked at him calmly with his grey eyes, as though Kensei had done nothing more than pat him on the back.
"You're the fucking Commander General!" snarled Kensei, "you'd better start coming up with fucking answers!"
Shinji wanted to point out that the last thing he wanted to be in his entire fucking life was the illustrious Commander General of Soul Society. The voice or King or whoever the fuck it had been made sense, healers came in after battle, sick people tended to have enough to worry about. But why, why the hell couldn't it have been Shunsui? Shunsui had been in Soul Society for the past couple hundred years as Shinji drank himself into oblivion. But no. No, things couldn't make sense. No, the world couldn't kindly shove it while he went about his life. No, he had to have a mantle he never would have wanted shoved onto his shoulders.
Sometimes life was a fucking bitch.
Shinji knocked Kensei's hand aside easily. He walked away from him, coming to stand by the window. The former Ninth Division Captain, former Vizard watched him, his face rapidly darkening to a shade of red that only Mashiro had been able to produce and then only once, during an incident where she loudly proclaimed to the entire division that Kensei had a sex position tattooed on his chest. Of course that wasn't what the tattoo meant but it had taken him months to get the Division to stop calling him 'sexy chest'.
"Kensei," Shinji said, not turning around, "you're the Acting Captain of the Ninth Division. Mashiro, you're Third Seat."
"Come on, Mashiro," Kensei snarled, "I stay here one more second and I think I'm gonna be sick."
Hiyori fought not to jump when he slammed the door. She remained where she was, not feeling the need to fight her way past the cloud of angst that seemed to cloud Shinji. Finally, the new Commander General turned around and glared hotly at her. Without a word he walked over to the desk and yanked something out of it, storming back to her and practically throwing the Lieutenant arm badge at her head. She caught it automatically and yanked it up her arm, pulling it almost unnecessarily tight. She got to her feet and stormed over to the door.
"I'm going to bed," she said hotly glaring at him, "and you'd better get your fucking act together," she said furiously to Shinji, "cry or whatever it is that miserable fools like you do," she put her hands on her hips, "and when it's morning, you'd better be back to the Shinji that I followed from here to the transient world or I swear to whatever God you fucking worship that I am going to find the biggest,heaviest sandal in the world and beat you within and inch of your life with it!"
She slammed the door as she left.
For the first time, Shinji didn't feel quite as miserable as he had moments before.
Some things never changed.
A world away, Detective Nicholas Grimm knocked back another shot of the dark amber colored liquor and wondered how his life had gotten so wretchedly complicated.