Chapter 9

Touch the Stars

Ulquiorra sat on the roof of the human woman's apartment, considering all that he had learned thus far. He knew that there was some reason that this small group of humans had such unexpected strength and resilience, and he had assumed that it would be some single secret which they all shared. Now, however, he was no longer sure of that. Each one was so different from the others.

He considered Kurosaki first: the substitute Shinigami was brash, hot-headed, violent, and perfectly unpredictable. He would do battle with an ally as soon as with an enemy. And yet he would show compassion to an enemy as soon as to an ally. It was as if he viewed all people in the same way: not truly as friend or foe, excepting only his closest companions. Regarding others, those who hurt those weaker than themselves were wrong; those who protected those weaker than themselves were right. It didn't matter whether the person hurting or being hurt was a human, Hollow, or Shinigami. Kurosaki would fight anyone or anything, but he would not hurt anyone without reason. Likewise he would protect anyone or anything, though his reasons were not always clear to Ulquiorra. Even his enemies, when they were defeated, Kurosaki would allow to live. He had strength, but he had no need to flaunt it. He would fight to prove his own worth to himself, not to others. In addition, he had no fear; he never accepted the possibility that he himself would lose. When Ulquiorra had held Kurosaki's life in his hand, the human boy had not felt fear. How was this human's mind to be rationalized? Was it even possible to understand him?

Next, Ulquiorra considered the Quincy: this boy was very different from Kurosaki. He considered his actions, much as Ulquiorra did himself. He held no false hopes regarding success and failure. When he was outmatched, he would find a way to win using intelligence rather than strength. When this failed, he would seek another way. He would not give up, but, unlike Kurosaki, it was not a blind belief that he would not lose, but rather a quiet determination to continue trying until he could no longer do so. Also unlike Kurosaki, the Quincy was willing to die for his friends. This was evident in his battle with Ulquiorra atop the dome of Las Noches. In trying to buy time for the woman to heal the substitute Shinigami, the Quincy had attacked Ulquiorra himself. He had had no hope of winning; indeed, looking at him, Ulquiorra could see toward the end that the boy fully expected to die. Even so, he was willing to continue fighting in order to buy his friends a bit more time. Kurosaki was different: he would not admit defeat; he would not accept the possibility of his own death. When Ulquiorra had fought him the first time, Kurosaki had continued to press his Zanpakutō against Ulquiorra, even when Kurosaki himself could not stand, could scarcely breathe, and had yet to inflict a single scratch on the Espada. It took Ulquiorra literally ripping the life from the boy for him to stop, and, even then, Ulquiorra wasn't sure that Kurosaki had accepted his own defeat. How different was the Quincy who could both face and accept death and continue to fight, never surrendering, for the sake of his friends. What could the motivation be for that?

Finally, Ulquiorra turned his thoughts to the woman. She was different from both. From the time that Ulquiorra had first come to the Land of the Living with Yammy on that fateful day, she had been made aware of the fact that she could not fight them. She could, perhaps, offer a small defense, and she was certainly able to help in rejecting the injuries dealt to her friends, but she could not fight. She was strong for a human; it was likely that no other human could defeat her, apart from her friends. Even most Shinigami could not have overcome her, if she truly fought with all her strength. But the Espada were so far above her that she was nothing compared to them. Even so, she was willing to look Ulquiorra himself in the eye and declare with no shred of deceit that she was not afraid. Did that courage stem from her trust in her friends that they would save her? Or did it stem from her trust in fate itself that no harm would befall her? Or was it not courage but rather foolishness? How could she stand against an overwhelmingly powerful enemy and yet feel no fear? She was not like Kurosaki who simply denied the possibility of defeat; she was not like the Quincy who accepted the possibility and yet fought regardless; she was different. She confused him. Even now, after spending so much time with her and with her friends, the woman still had the ability to leave him wondering.

Orihime had finished the supper dishes, and Ulquiorra still hadn't come down from the roof. She could sense his presence there. She knew that he had left his gigai in the apartment, so she guessed that he just wanted some time alone to think. Still, it had been some time now. She hoped that he wouldn't mind if she just went to check on him.

Climbing carefully onto the roof, she smiled as Ulquiorra turned his gaze to look at her.

"Hi," she called. "Would you like some company?"

"I have no objection to you joining me, if that is what you are asking," replied Ulquiorra.

Taking this as an invitation, Orihime carefully walked across the peak to sit next to him. For a time then, they sat in comfortable silence. The sounds of the evening drifted around them. A gentle breeze moved playfully across the roof. As Ulquiorra sat still, staring blankly before himself, Orihime closed her eyes, let her head lean back, and sighed in contentment. The night was so peaceful and so beautiful. She wondered why she didn't come to the roof more often. She remembered Tōshirō spending a lot of time up here when he would stay with her, but she had supposed that it was in order to get away from Rangiku for a little while. Maybe it wasn't. She gazed up at the stars, lost for the time in the wonder of the night sky.

"They're so beautiful," she breathed.

Ulquiorra glanced at her without speaking.

"The stars," Orihime clarified. "It's just so beautiful tonight."

"Hm," was his only response as he turned again to face in front of himself.

"There weren't any stars in Hueco Mundo," mused Orihime. "I liked to watch the moon and try to imagine that there were stars, but there weren't. It was just one big, empty sky." She sighed. "That was sad." She turned to look at Ulquiorra, but he still did not respond. "Do you like the stars?" she asked.

"I had not considered them," was his toneless reply.

"You should! They're beautiful and bright and sparkling; they might make you happy! When I was little, I always wanted to fly up into the night sky and gather a string of stars so that I could wear it like a headband in my hair, and then I'd make a cloud castle in the clouds, like a sand castle on the beach, and then I could ride the clouds through the night and always stay ahead of the sun, so that the stars would always be shining." Turning to him again, Orihime continued, "Don't you think that that would be fun?"

"You could never fly to the stars," replied Ulquiorra calmly. "They are too far distant. Nor could you shape the clouds if you touched them."

Orihime sighed and gave a little pout. "Can't you use your imagination at all?" she sulked. "Can't you at least try? Imagine living in the clouds and being able to touch the stars!"

Ulquiorra blinked and again turned to look her in the eye. Clearly he sensed that this was one of the times that she wasn't making sense in reality, but that somehow it made sense in her own mind. Orihime returned the gaze, almost sadly, wishing that he could just say, 'Yes, Orihime, it would be fun to fly to the stars.' She knew he'd never actually say that though. She wished that she could show him the pleasures of using imagination, but she was beginning to think that that would always be impossible. Perhaps this was why she was so startled by his next question.

"Would you like to fly toward the stars?" he asked.

Orihime's eyes popped open wide in surprise. This wasn't a request for information; it was an offer. He was suggesting that they ... that they fly to the stars! Bursting into a wide grin, she clapped her hands in delight.

"Yes!" she cried. "Oh, yes, yes, yes!"

Ulquiorra seemed to be a bit taken aback by her exuberance, but he seemed, by now, to be well enough acquainted with her strange moods that he did not react beyond the slightest widening of his eyes. Silently he rose to his feet, offering a hand to assist her in doing likewise.

"Come," he said simply.

Orihime jumped up, balancing on the rooftop, wondering what would happen next. Taking her left hand in his right, he lifted it, turned, and drew her hand over his left shoulder.

"Place your arms around my neck," he instructed.

Orihime obeyed, still curious about what he had in mind. She was now standing almost flat against his back, holding onto him from behind, as his left hand held her wrists at his throat.

"Enclose, Murcielago," he murmured.

Orihime gasped and gripped his neck in surprise as two black wings suddenly grew out of his shoulders, spreading out on either side of her. His mask too shifted its form, such that it covered only the top of his head, now with two horns instead of one. His jacket lengthened, although the sleeves melted away entirely.

Before Orihime could question, the massive black wings spread and flapped downward, lifting the two of them into the air.

"Oh!" squealed Orihime, gripping him tightly and squeezing her eyes shut in fear and excitement. His hand still held her wrists such that she knew she wouldn't fall, but she clung to him tightly just the same. It was irrational, but she felt almost sure that she would fall off if she opened her eyes. She could feel the wind around her; she could feel the power of his huge wings, pumping the air as they rose higher and higher into the night sky. Somehow though, she couldn't open her eyes to look.

"Are you ready to go higher?" she heard Ulquiorra's gentle query.

Not wanting to admit that she was afraid (and knowing that she shouldn't be), she simply nodded into his shoulder and murmured, "Y-yes."

Again, his voice came in a whisper, not speaking to her: "Segunda etapa."

Then she felt it: that unbelievably powerful reiatsu which Ishida had described as like "an ocean above the sky." It was no wonder that he had wanted to come so high before releasing it. Even at this distance, she was sure that Ishida and Sado would both be feeling his presence powerfully. It billowed out from him, surrounding her, almost drowning her. She could scarcely breathe! If it weren't for his grip on her wrists, she suspected that she would have let go and fallen from the shock alone. No sooner had it been released, however, before she felt him drawing the reiatsu back into himself, suppressing the overwhelming presence as well as he could. It was still powerful, but she found that she could breathe again.

Opening her eyes at last, Orihime saw that they were skimming quickly through the night sky, his body almost parallel with the earth as she practically lay on his back, her arms still around his neck. The lights of the town were lit below them, obscured now and then by the clouds over which they passed. It was beautiful... And it was terrible.

She had felt the change in the hand that still held hers, and she turned her eyes to see. A shudder of horror passed through her as she saw the black, demonic claw, gripping her wrist. Turning her face again, she saw that his Hollow's mask too was completely gone, and two long horns, looking like something from a horror story, now grew out of his long black hair. His face ─ what little she could see of it ─ had turned into that terrifying vision that she had seen only once above the dome of Las Noches: the long, black tear-stains, the yellow eyes with green irises, the whole aura of despair that emanated from him now. So many horrible memories came flooding back to her: the fight above the dome; Ulquiorra calmly and cruelly blasting a hole through Kurosaki-kun's chest and then blocking her way when she wanted to heal him; the horrific transformation of Kurosaki-kun himself; the power of the two Hollows as they fought, each trying to kill the other. It was terrible! Orihime pressed her eyes shut again, trying to block out the nightmare that threatened to overtake her senses.

It's true that she didn't mind thinking of Las Noches anymore; she'd even told Tatsuki-chan the whole story eventually. She was willing to discuss it with her friends when it came up in conversation. But there was one part about which she never spoke; one section of her time there that she had tried desperately to forget: the horrific fight above the dome. Kurosaki-kun had become that which she wished never to remember. Ulquiorra, her calm, stoic, protecting guard had become something which she wished never to remember. The memories that she did have still visited her in nightmares, and she tried always to forget them. She knew that Kurosaki-kun would never become that again; somehow she hadn't considered that Ulquiorra might. Why had she supposed that he wouldn't? But now, she couldn't escape it. The fearful form was pressed against her, or rather she was pressed against it, and she couldn't get away. She fought against tears as she continued to try to block the memories from coming over her.

Ulquiorra's flying slowed as he seemed to register that she was trembling. Keeping them in midair but not moving forward, their bodies now vertical again, he turned his head to be able to look at her out of the corner of his now hideous eyes.

"Is something wrong?" he asked calmly.

"N-n-no," Orihime stammered. "I─ I'm just cold." It was certainly cold up here, especially when they were flying through the air. Her body was shaking, as if from the cold. Maybe he'd believe her and take her home. "I guess I should have brought a jacket," she added with a forced chuckle, trying to sound light-hearted. "I ... I should have known ... that it would be cold." Please just take me home! she thought.

"Hm," he responded simply.

Orihime felt his clawed hand leave her wrists. That was a little nicer, she supposed. With her eyes closed, she could almost imagine that he didn't look like this.

"Let go."

Orihime gasped, opening her eyes in shock, sure that she'd misheard him. She glanced down to assure herself that they were still flying, still far above the ground. Yes, they certainly were.

"What?" she asked in a trembling voice.

"You are cold," came his cool reply. "Let go."

"I── What?"

Ulquiorra again turned his head slightly to glance back at her. "Trust me."

Orihime continued to shiver. She glanced again down at the ground, far, far below, then again shut her eyes tightly, still gripping his neck.

Maybe if I don't look at him, she thought. If I think that he's still in his normal form, or in his gigai but with wings, then I shouldn't be afraid. I can stop shaking then. If I stop shaking, I can tell him that I'm not cold anymore. Just stop shaking!

Try as she might, however, she couldn't stop her trembling. But likewise there was no way that she could simply let go!

"Orihime," came Ulquiorra's quiet voice. "Do you think that I would allow you to be hurt?"

He had called her by name. That alone seemed to calm her, at least a little. She didn't feel quite as cold; she wasn't shaking quite as much.

"Trust me," he repeated. "Let go."

His words seemed to echo in her ears. Did she trust him? Did she truly trust him? Orihime bit her lip, knowing that she didn't. But she knew, somehow, that she should. She believed that she should. He wouldn't hurt her; he wouldn't let her get hurt. She had to do this. Forcing her hands to stop gripping each other, closing her eyes again, and biting her tongue to prevent herself from screaming, she let go.

She fell only a few inches before something caught her. It was thin and strong and wrapped around her body gently but firmly, supporting her weight. She opened her eyes in shock and realized that it was his long, black tail. Her eyes again widened in amazement as he brought her under his massive wings (still flapping rhythmically to hold them in the air) around to his front. He then took her in his arms without a word, one arm supporting her legs and the other her back, holding her close to himself to keep her warm.

"Is that better?" he asked, unwrapping his tail from her body.

It was. And it wasn't. Now, she was looking fully into his terrifying face, his nightmarish black arms and claws wrapped around her. Her body was pressed to his bare torso, but even that was now emaciated with his Hollow hole seeming to pour forth a black substance like blood, as if he was both starving and bleeding to death. Yes, she was warmer, but she'd just as soon have stayed cold and not have seen him as clearly. Closing her eyes again, she nodded nervously.

"Y-y-yes!" she stuttered. "That's better. T-t-thank you."

For a long moment, there was no sound other than the soft flapping of his great, black wings. He said nothing. Orihime's eyes were still closed, but she could feel his gaze on her, questioning, no doubt, why she was behaving in this way. For her part, Orihime tried to pull herself together, her hands in fists as she tried to regain control of her emotions. She shouldn't be afraid. He wasn't going to hurt her; he wasn't going to hurt her friends. Just because she hadn't dealt with the past yet didn't mean that she shouldn't be able to handle the present and the future. She shouldn't be afraid!

At last, she heard him sigh quietly.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I should not have done this. I'll take you back now."

Opening her eyes, she saw that he had dipped and turned in the air, and they were now heading back toward the apartment. To her shame, Orihime felt a flood of relief come over her with this knowledge. Still, she found that she also felt a little sad.

"Ul ... Ulquiorra ..." she began, looking up at him and trying to find the courage to speak.

"No," he said quietly. "You do not need to look at me. I understand that this form is not something that you want to see. Close your eyes. We will be there soon, and I will change back."

Orihime felt a blush rise to her cheeks from his words ─ his feelings. His voice was so gentle; it was almost sad. And why not? She was rejecting who he was. She was telling him, by her fear and trembling, that she didn't want to see this most intimate part of his being: his true form. Raising her eyes, she looked again at the frightening visage above her, his own eyes now staring resolutely at the horizon. Slowly she lifted her hand.

As her fingers touched his face, Ulquiorra seemed to shudder slightly himself. He lowered his head to look at her, his eyes questioning, though his voice did not. Orihime found herself gazing into those other-worldly eyes as her fingers traced the thick black rivulets that ran down his cheeks.

They were his eyes.

Even though they looked like something from a freakish nightmare, they were still his eyes. Gazing into them, Orihime could see Ulquiorra's soul gazing back at her. Why had she ever felt afraid?

At last, she smiled and shook her head.

"No," she whispered. "I don't want to go back. Please."

He simply looked at her. "Are you certain?" he asked at last.

"Yes, I'm sure!" she exclaimed, nodding her head and grinning brightly. "Please. I want to touch the stars."

She lifted both hands and placed them again his face. Ulquiorra's eyes widened again, and he seemed to try to draw back, but he could do nothing without dropping her. Orihime just smiled at him.

"I want you to come and touch the stars with me," she smiled.

For hours they flew through the night sky, enjoying the beauty and peace around them. Ulquiorra had gradually relaxed again, once Orihime removed her hands. For her part, Orihime gazed around herself in wonder and excitement now, her earlier fear completely dispelled by his gentle words. She talked about picking the stars from the sky and putting them in a jar to light her room at night, and Ulquiorra simply listened, amused with her imagination. He spoilt her perception of the clouds by flying through a few of them, but she didn't mind. She said that it was fun to be lost in their misty expanse for a moment or two at a time as they passed through them. She still talked about how fun it would be to find a special cloud on which she could build her midnight castle, and Ulquiorra didn't contradict her.

At last, when it was well past midnight and Orihime had fallen asleep in his arms, her face resting comfortably against his chest, Ulquiorra brought them back to her little apartment. He withdrew his second release as they neared their destination, and then fully sealed his power again in his Zanpakuto as he dropped silently to the roof. Orihime didn't stir as he entered the apartment and carried her gently into her bedroom. There, standing before her bed, he paused. Somehow, he didn't want to put her down. He looked at her sleeping face, barely visible in the darkness of the room, lit only by the pale moonlight that filtered through her thin curtains. She looked so peaceful, so comfortable, so ... secure. It struck him strongly that she felt so safe with him that she was willing even to fall asleep in his arms. An almost overwhelming sense came over him: the desire to know that she was always as safe, as secure, and as happy as she was right then, protected in his strong embrace. He didn't want to let go. He didn't understand what this feeling was that welled up within him; never had he felt this way toward any other being. It was as if she had become a part of him, in that he wanted to protect her as well as he would protect himself, and yet it was different: he felt somehow that if he himself was in danger and she was at the same time, that he would rather suffer harm himself if it would protect her. It made no sense. These feelings were inexplicable. And yet they were there, stronger than anything he had ever felt. Somehow he knew at that moment that he could never let any harm come to her. He wanted to hold her forever and never let go.

How long he stood there, holding her to himself and gazing down at her sleeping countenance, he didn't know. He only knew that he finally roused himself, knowing that he needed to leave and to go to bed himself. It was strange, but it was actually painful for him to lay her on her bed. His arms ached as if fighting against the loss of her touch. His hands twitched, wanting to retain their hold on her. His fingers tightened, desiring to keep her in their grasp. Nevertheless, he forced his body back under his own control and drew back from her.

This is madness, he told himself. There is no reason that I should feel this way.

Regardless, not even his own cold logic could fully dispel the warmth that he felt within himself, watching her. Closing his eyes at last, he turned to leave the room.

With a gasp, Orihime suddenly sat up in bed. "What time is it?!" she exclaimed. "I'm late!"

Ulquiorra turned back, looking at her questioningly. "It's the middle of the night," he replied. "You are assuredly not late."

"Oh," she murmured. Lying down again, she seemed to fall back to sleep on the instant.

The barest hint of a smile played about the corner of his lips as Ulquiorra looked at her, deciding that she hadn't fully awakened in the first place. She was having a dream: most likely about school. He considered staying a bit longer but decided against it. Again, he moved toward the door.

"I should get changed," her voice murmured again, this time with a yawn. "My clothes will be all wrinkled."

This time, Ulquiorra didn't turn or respond. If she was still sleeping, then there was no need to acknowledge her speech. If she was awake, then she was being foolish: if her clothes weren't wrinkled from the long adventure, then they wouldn't be from her sleeping in them. Regardless, that was of no concern to him. He could ask her in the morning whether they were wrinkled and whether it mattered.

Moving to his own bed, he removed his long jacket, sat down, removed his sandals, and stretched himself out to sleep. He had lain there for only a minute or two, however, before the door to Orihime's room opened.

"Are you asleep?" she whispered.

"No," he replied, not moving.

"When did we get back?"

"Just now."

"Oh."

She was standing in the doorway, dressed now in a thin nightgown. So, she had been awake, apparently.

"Well, I just wanted a snack before bed," she continued finally. "Would you like something to eat?"

"I am not hungry."

"Okay," she nodded, then turned and walked to the kitchen.

Orihime couldn't remember falling asleep in Ulquiorra's arms, but, when she awoke, she knew that she must have done so. The last thing she remembered was watching the stars twinkling brightly, then they had begun dancing and singing, and she had smiled, watching them. After that, she had drifted into a dream where Sora was there, talking to her and holding her protectively. Orihime hadn't felt so warm and secure since she was a little child. Somehow she knew that as long as Sora was there, everything would be alright, nothing could harm her, and she would always be able to smile. She wanted to hold onto him forever.

Gradually the dream had faded, and she began to feel alone again. Surprisingly, even though it was a little sad, it wasn't painful; it was what she had known for so long. When she drifted back into wakefulness, she lay in her own bed, trying to remember how she'd gotten there. It took very little time for her to realize that Ulquiorra must have put her to bed. Looking down and seeing that she wasn't in her nightclothes had confirmed this.

Rising, she quietly changed into her nightgown. Her eyes kept moving toward her door as she did so, thinking of her dream. Why had she felt so secure in his arms? As she had fallen asleep, it was as if her mind believed that it was no longer Ulquiorra but Sora holding her. She had never seen him like that. She had never seen him as anything more than an unwilling protector at first and possibly a would-be friend at last. Even that, she supposed, he would object to being labeled. He had no intention of hurting her, and he had previously protected her when Aizen had ordered him to do so, but he was not attached to her as her friends were. He probably wouldn't even protect her now, if she was in danger. How was it that she felt so secure with him? So safe? So comfortable?

She opened her door quietly and whispered into the darkness, asking whether he was awake. When his quiet voice replied, she felt a gentle peace drift over her. She was happy. She didn't know why; all she knew was that his presence made her feel happy and safe. She wasn't alone. She had been alone for so long that she seldom even thought of it, but now, just like people often wouldn't appreciate something good until it was gone, so she realized that she hadn't recognized her own pain until it was gone. He wasn't Sora, but somehow he made her feel like she did when Sora was there. She smiled.

"Would you like something to eat?" she asked, moving toward the little kitchen.

She knew what his answer would be before he spoke it: "I am not hungry."

"Okay," she replied.

Yes, she had known what he would say, but she could, at least, hope that it would be otherwise. She smiled sadly as she fixed herself a quick and simple snack. In truth, she wasn't that hungry herself. She just wanted to savor this feeling for as long as she could. She knew that as soon as she went to sleep, she'd awaken in the morning, and it would be time to get ready for school, and then they'd go to school ─ walking separately of course, so as not to attract attention ─ and everything would be back to the way that it had been. Was it so wrong to want to live in the moment, just for now, imagining that he could be to her what Sora had been? Someone who loved and cared for her? Someone who protected her and kept her from being alone? Was that so wrong to wish?

She had finished her snack, but still she lingered, not wanting to go back to bed. She wished he would say something. She knew, however, that that was foolish. He wouldn't speak without a reason, and there was no reason now for him to speak, except, perhaps, to tell her that it was late and that she should go to bed. She smiled a little, wondering if he would do that if she waited long enough.

Finally, bolstering her courage, she walked into the living room where he was lying. Seeing her approach, he rose to a sitting position, looking at her directly as if asking whether there was something that she required. She licked her lips nervously.

"Thank you for tonight," she said at last. "It was fun."

"You're welcome," he answered simply.

He then sat silently, looking up at her, as she nervously turned her eyes everywhere but toward him. Finally, she dropped to the floor next to him, swallowing once.

"I'm sorry," she stuttered, "for ... for being afraid of you tonight. I ... I shouldn't have..."

She licked her lips, finding herself staring at the four on his chest. Though she had intentionally brought herself down to be able to look him in the eye, she found now that she couldn't actually bring herself to do it. The ornate tattoo provided a nice distraction. It was actually rather handsome, she thought. Not all tattoos were, and some were simply hideous, but his was quite nice. When she realized suddenly that she was staring at his bare chest, she blushed and dropped her eyes quickly.

"I did not know you were afraid," his deep voice came at last.

Orihime did look up at him then, eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't known? But hadn't she made it painfully obvious, even though she'd tried to hide it? How could he not have known?

"I── I thought──" she stammered. "I mean, you offered to bring me back, and you said I shouldn't look at you, and ... and ... I thought you knew."

"I thought that you were disgusted, repulsed by my appearance, not afraid."

Orihime's eyes widened in horror as she suddenly realized the impression that her actions had given him.

"No!" she exclaimed. "I never felt that! I'm so sorry! I didn't know that that's what you thought."

"You have never been afraid of me," he continued, "even when you should have been. Why would you be afraid of me now?"

"I, um," she hesitated. "I wasn't really afraid of you, I suppose... I mean..." She swallowed, looking away again. "It was ... memories, really. I don't like to remember that ... that fight. The first time I saw you like that, I mean. I don't like to think about what happened. It scares me." A tear fell from her eye. "And it was my fault," she murmured.

"It was not your fault," came his response. "It was Aizen's; had he not ordered me to retrieve you, your friends would never have come to Hueco Mundo. You had no choice in the matter, though it was made to appear that you did."

"I called to Kurosaki-kun," whimpered Orihime. "When you ... defeated him. I made him turn into that ... that ... thing. That was my fault. It was my fault that he killed you. It was my fault that you died!"

Again he was silent. Orihime chewed her lip, wanting to look at his face, but not wanting to at the same time. She wanted to hear him say that he forgave her, but she didn't want to ask. She wanted to know what he was thinking. Did he blame her? Had he, perhaps, never considered that it was her fault in the end? Had she just turned him against herself? Orihime wanted to cry as she considered that perhaps he would hate her, now that she had told him this.

"Do you regret what happened?" his voice came at last.

Orihime gasped, looking at him again in shock. "Yes!" she exclaimed. "Of course I do! I never wanted you to die! I mean, I wanted Kurosaki-kun to win, and I wanted us to leave, but I didn't ... I didn't want him to kill you!"

There was no anger in his eyes. As she stared at him, she saw only mild confusion there.

"There was no other way," he said. "Surely you do not believe that I would have surrendered, so long as I was able to move. I would have fought to the last breath, as I did. He could not have simply defeated me and left; my body would have continued to regenerate until either he killed me or I killed him. There was no other possible outcome: one of us had to die."

Orihime swallowed again, biting back tears. She knew that his words were true, but she didn't like to think of them.

"Your actions brought about the victory of your allies," added Ulquiorra.

At that, Orihime's eyes popped open in surprise. She stared up at him silently.

"Kurosaki has spoken to me of his final battle with Aizen," continued Ulquiorra. "There was no one who could have won that battle apart from him. Had I succeeded in killing him, the last true threat to Aizen would have been removed: he and the Espada would have won the war. By saving Kurosaki's life as you did, you did not merely save your friend; you brought about the victory of your allies. Remember that."

Again, Orihime could do nothing but stare. Understanding slowly came to her and her eyes widened yet again. Yes, she had caused Kurosaki-kun to lose himself for a time ─ to become a worse creature than any of the Espada ─ but in doing so ... she had enabled the end of the Winter War; she had helped to secure their victory. She had brought back the savior of the Land of the Living and of Soul Society too! A flood of emotions washed over her. The guilt that she had felt for so long that had led her to suppress her own memories as well as she could; the fear of herself, knowing that it had somehow been she who had brought about the horrific change in Kurosaki-kun; the remorse of knowing that she had been responsible for the death of her one-time guard; all of this was shattered by the calm, cool, and beautiful logic presented to her now. She smiled, blinking back her tears.

"Thank you," she exclaimed, taking his hand in both of her own. "I never thought of that! You're right! I did help. All this time, I kept thinking that I only made it worse, but you're right: I didn't. I still wish that Kurosaki-kun hadn't hurt Ishida-kun and that he hadn't killed you like that, but I am glad that he didn't die. I'm so, so, so glad that Aizen didn't win!" She paused, still smiling. "Thank you," she repeated.

"Hm," was his simple response. He gently removed her hands from his and said, "It is late. You should sleep."

With another smile, Orihime nodded. "Thank you," she repeated. Rising then to her feet, she turned to go to her room. Again, however, she paused. "Ulquiorra," she said, looking back at him with a little confusion. "Didn't you want Aizen to win?"

"I did," he answered.

"But now?"

"Aizen lost. My preference is no longer of any consequence."

Orihime's eyes fell again, her smile long gone. She bit her lip, considering. "If we were back there again," she began slowly, "would you still try kill Kurosaki-kun?"

There was silence for a long moment, until Orihime forced her gaze upward to meet his again. He looked back at her calmly.

"I defeated him once and allowed him the option of leaving Hueco Mundo," he answered. "I would do so again. My duty was to protect Las Noches, not to kill him. If he would not leave, then I would have no choice: I would kill him. But if he chose to leave, I would allow him to do so. In the end, the choice would be his."

Orihime nodded. "Well," she said with a sigh, "I'm glad that everything worked out in the end. And I . . . I am sorry that you died."

"It is of no consequence," he replied.

Orihime licked her lips. "It is to me," she whispered.

Again she looked at him, then, with a wan smile, she turned and reentered her room, leaving him to gaze after her curiously, wondering now about her feelings as much as he did about his own.