Chapter 9
It takes some time, half an hour at the most, but the surprise at Ulquiorra's appearance goes away. Slowly, the Arrancars return to their business, quiet mummers filling the room as they talk amongst themselves. We're not completely forgotten though. Every few seconds a glance or two are thrown our way. Both unnerved by Ulquiorra's presence and curious about my own, they can't keep their gazes from us for long.
Even as Ulquiorra lets his eyes slip closed, leaning back into his seat, the Arrancars remain wary. Watching. As if drawn by magnets, their gazes return to us time and again. Curious and assessing. It takes a lot not to shrink under their gaze. Shirtless as I am, I'm just glad my back faces most of them. As it is, standing under the gaze of the purple-haired Arrancar is unnerving at best and completely terrifying when her cold fingers graze against my skin.
They're freezing, rock hard, and leave stinging red marks in their wake. Still, for all her brutishness, she doesn't leave actual bruises as she adjusts me to her liking. Rather than asking me to lift my arms, she pushes them up for me, bending and posing me without ever actually directing a word at me.
Despite the defiance in her every move, she does as Ulquiorra says and takes all my measurements. She does my torsos and arms first, measuring my arms, shoulders, chest, and waist with sure, quick movements and sharp tugs.
She wants this over as quickly as I do, of course.
I don't fault her for it. The longer I stand, half-naked, in front of a full room, the more I wish she would hurry. Which is, of course, something I regret the second I hear the tearing of cloth yet again.
She catches me just as easily as the first two times. My weight really means nothing to them, with their inhuman strength. So with one hand pressed against my chest, she keeps me from tumbling forward as she tears off my homemade skirt with the other.
"Wait! Wait! Wait!"
It's too late, of course. The skirt is gone in a second, leaving me in just my underwear as all gazes instantly turn my way at my yelp. There's no fighting the blush that crawls up my neck then, nor is there any hiding it. I can do nothing but steel myself under the gazes of curious Arrancars.
"Would a little privacy be too much to ask for?" I ask, not really sure who I'm asking even as I turn my gaze Ulquiorra's way. His eyes are open again, watching but no obvious emotion fills them before he lets them shift shut again.
"I believe I told you to preserve some of her dignity," Ulquiorra says. There's no warning in his voice. No anger or annoyance or anything to signify even the tiniest bit of danger yet, the purple-haired Arrancar flinches all the same.
She doesn't bother to bite out another "yes, sir" before she scrambles off. I can only look after her, wondering if she's running away and if Ulquiorra will stop her. Except, she isn't escaping. Rather, she just grabs a dressing divider from another workstation and rushes to set it up, cutting me off from the still staring Arrancars.
Even as she does, she is clearly not happy. Not one bit and I would be more worried about it if she didn't set up the divider with Ulquiorra still in full view of us. Not that he's watching, of course.
He keeps his eyes shut for the rest of the fitting. Ignoring us until the last of the measurements are taken, my new clothes are designed, and all that is left is actually making the uniform. And then it's only to get another Arrancar's attention.
"You, there," he calls towards an Arrancar I can't see behind the screen. Only the shuffling of wary footsteps coming towards him lets me know the Arrancar is close by. "I am in need of two sets of uniforms."
"Right away, Cuatro."
There's nothing but fear in the new Arrancar's voice as he scurries away. It's only then that Ulquiorra's gaze goes back to me. After the new Arrancar has left and the purple-haired one has moved off to finish sewing my clothes.
But there's nothing in them when they do.
No disgust. No interest. Not even a single speck of annoyance. Only cold, blank nothingness meets my gaze when our eyes lock. I'm tempted to hold his gaze as long as I can, but embarrassment causes me to look away all too quickly. I'm still mostly naked, after all.
"Here," the purple-haired Arrancar snarls, suddenly appearing at my side again, with a bundle of clothes neatly folded in her arms. "Try these on so I can see if I'll have to fix them."
"Thank you."
I take the shorts she hands me eagerly, rushing to get them on as fast as possible. The material is soft under my fingers. Softer than even Ulquiorra's had been and just as smooth. It's also just as white, with black trim on all its hems.
I pull on the shorts first.
Slipping them on feels almost like heaven as they glide over my legs and hug all the right places. The hems are thick, folded back, and pitch black. It even has pockets! The only downside turns out to be that they're fairly short. An inch or two from being considered booty shorts and more low waisted than I would like.
Still, I treasure the shorts. Absolutely thrilled to have something made specifically for me, tailored to my measurements, I turned back to the purple-haired Arrancar with the biggest smile on my face and take the shirt from her.
"Thank you so much," I tell her as I unfold the shirt. I don't pull it on as quickly as I did the shorts and not from lack of wanting to. But I hold back, confused as I only find one sleeve and two gaping holes. Unsure if it's the right or the left sleeve and even more confused as to what part is the top or the bottom, I look back her in confusion. "How?"
"Oh, don't go thanking me just yet," she smirks, something dangerous enough in her gaze to make me cringe away. With that smirk still in place, she takes the shirt back. "Here let me help you with that."
There's nothing kind in her voice as she circles me, eyes just as unkind as her voice. It's when she's behind me that it happens. With three sure, quick 'snips' my bra falls in tatters around me. No longer functional, it slips off before I can even think to hold it against me.
"No."
My cry only serves to once again draw attention to me. That it's only Ulquiorra's gaze, doesn't make it any better. Especially not when I'm sure he gets quite the eyeful before I can cover my chest with my arms.
"What is your problem?" I shout at the Arrancar, voice a strange mix of embarrassment and outrage even in the face of the danger she poses.
"You can't wear it with this outfit," she says, voice uncaring as she yanks my right arm from around me. She tugs it through the sleeve, scoffing when I put up resistance. Not that it does much against her strength. "It'd be too visible."
She tugs my arm through the sleeve easily. Stopping only to pull my other arm through the shirt. After much shuffling, tugging, and fighting she lets me go with a very irritated huff. One that sounds suspiciously like a curse as she finally finishes wrestling me into the shirt.
My shirt turns out to be a very asymmetrical one. It's a one-shoulder, half crop top like thing. It only covers one shoulder, leaving the other bare and my left arm completely free of the shirt. The right side of the shirt ends an inch or two under my boob. From there, it slopes down, cutting across my torso so that the left side of the shirt reaches down to the hem of my shorts. As for the sleeve, it only goes halfway down my forearm, stopping in a thick, black hem just like the one on the shorts. The rest of the hems on the shirt are thin but no less black.
"Oh," I mutter, as I look down at the shirt. It's slightly loose, billowy almost so going braless doesn't put anything on display that shouldn't be. Even without the bra, my chest looks good enough in the shirt that I almost don't miss it. Especially since the top of the shirt is threaded with elastic so that it hugs along the contours of my chest enough that a nip slip just isn't possible. "It actually looks nice."
"Of course, it does," she scoffs, offended as she tosses yet another white and black piece of cloth at me. "That's the last of it. It's for your left hand. I won't need to alter it so you can leave now if that's all you need. I'll have a few more sets sent to you by tomorrow."
The cloth turns out to be a long, fingerless glove. The kind that only loops around the middle finger and leaves the palm completely uncovered. But calling it a glove might be a little bit of a stretch as it rolls hallway up my bicep. Once again, elastic keeps it perfectly in place so that it doesn't slip down even when I shake my arm.
"Have them sent to my rooms," Ulquiorra tells her as he stands, one hand already reaching out to grab me. Not that he does. He pulls up short when I can't help but flinch away from his bruising grip. "Along with the sets I have just ordered."
He's watching me again, but rather than the cold, blankness of before, there's a twinge of something curious in his gaze. I'm not afraid of him but, after all the man-handling, my skin feels more than a little sensitive as it is. Not that I'll ever be able to avoid his grip, though. Not when he seems so obsessed with dragging me through these halls.
"I'm hungry," I tell him, breaking the slight stalemate that pops up when I flinch from him. With nothing else for it, I move to his side, going as far as to thread my arm around his. This, of course, puts my body flush against his, and no doubt gives the watching Arrancars all the wrong impressions. Still, I prefer it to being dragged. "Can we go eat now?"
He doesn't give me an answer, just watches me as I peer up at him. Then, with a nod, he leads us away. We make our way out of the room like that, my arm wrapped around his while his hands stay in his pockets.
"I still don't have shoes," I point out after we've exited the room and are once again making our way down endless white halls. The halls are as empty as always, clear of any signs of life and, after seeing the fear Ulquiorra's appearance has caused, I begin to wonder if it isn't intentional.
Is everyone fleeing from the presence of his Reiryoku?
"Those we will have to get elsewhere," he says, not even bothering to glance around as we go. He's waking slower this time. Rather than rushing around too fast for me to keep up, his gait is slow enough that I don't struggle to keep up at all. It even almost feels like some sort of leisurely stroll. "I will have them ordered for you at another point in time."
"Thank you."
He glances at me at the thanks. Eyes locking with mine just long enough for me to shoot him a smile. He turns away with no reaction, but I'd bet all the money I don't have that he's probably questioning my sanity.
I mean, who the hell smiles and thanks the guy that's technically holding them hostage?
Me, apparently.
And I'm not exactly the picture-perfect image of mental stability.
"Where are we going now?" I ask him after a while of more walking. Once again, the halls seem to go on forever. Even though I don't know the layout of Las Noches, not knowing where we're going is its own kind of unbearable. "Do you guys even have anything I can eat?"
"Human food has been brought to the Castle in preparation for Orihime's arrival," he says, voice as blank as always. Almost as if he's already bored with the conversation—if not me in general but, for all his emotionlessness, he still answers me whenever I ask something. "You two will simply have to share."
And there's only one reason for why he indulgences my every question.
Despite his hatred for all thing's emotions, Ulquiorra loves to talk. More than once he's been prone to monologuing even in the middle of a fight. Nonexistent emotions be damned, Ulquiorra has never once been one to ignore a question.
Or even to wait for one to be asked if he really has something on his mind. Whether it be about explaining something simple or overly complicated, Ulquiorra has never once refused to talk and in this moment, I plan to make full use of it.
If only so I won't have to hear the sound of my breathing anymore.
"But will there be enough for both of us?" I ask him, eager to get any kind of conversation going. "Wait? How would any of you even know what kind of food to get or even how to cook it? None of you eat human food."
"Food is food, is it not?" he answers, and if he wasn't one for reining in any semblance of emotions, I'm sure he would have thrown in a shrug with that answer. "As long as it provides sustenance, who cares what kind it is or how it is cooked?"
"Humans care, actually," I tell him, looking up at him just in time to catch his gaze. Unable to hold myself back, I give him another smile. "Bring us the wrong thing, or even cook it the wrong way, and you can get us deathly sick. Food poisoning is a thing that exists, and it can kill us in—very—extreme circumstances. While I'm sure my death would be unimportant, I don't think Aizen would be too happy if Orihime died."
"Orihime has yet to outlive her usefulness," he agrees, steps slowing as he mulls over the new information I've given him. "None the less, the food has already been prepared. Going out to get more would be more of a hassle than it is worth."
"Can I at least see what you'll be feeding her?" I ask him, still unwilling to just let that be it. As someone with an extremely picky palate, I'm already dreading to see what I may be forced to choke down. "As the resident human, I think I would be better suited to see if you're even going to be feeding us something edible enough to eat."
Not that that was ever a problem in the original story-line. Orihime had been well fed in her short stay in Las Noches. Or, at least, she hadn't been accidentally poisoned or starved to death. In fact, refusing to eat had been her only form of disobedience during her stay here. Whether that was because of the food given to her or just her own stubbornness had never been exactly a main point in the story.
Other than Ulquiorra threatening to force-feed her, Orihime's lack of eating had not been brought up again. Still, I would really rather not be forced to eat food that would only find it's way back up anyway. My pickiness over food knows no bounds so right now my only concern is finding food that won't offend my stomach. Even if it's just a sandwich.
"Fair enough."