Chapter 13

"But first, how about some tea?"

It's only as an Arrancar pushing a cart of tea stops in front of me that I zone back into the meeting. Or maybe tea party would be a better word for because seriously? Tea? Your fortress of solitude is currently under attack, but please, be all means, serve the damn tea.

And I thought I was batshit crazy.

The Arrancar wastes no time setting a teacup before Ulquiorra and filling it up with steaming tea. He's quick and efficient, having served everyone else already but, when he turns my way he pauses, unsure. There's another teacup in his hands, a small white cup meant for me, but I make no move to take it from him.

Not when doing so will mean I'll have to hold the cup while he fills it with pipping hot tea considering I have nowhere else to put it. At least not without getting into either Ulquiorra's or Starrk's space if I want to set it down any time soon. As it is, holding a hot cup of tea doesn't sound like it'll be much of a pleasant experience for any length of time, so instead, I wave away the cup.

"Everyone should have received their teas, yes?" Aizen asks then, slightly emphasizing the first word even though I've carefully placed myself so he can't see me behind Ulquiorra's chair. Locking eyes with me, the Arrancar lingers, the cup still held out to me as he makes no move to leave even as I wave him away again.

He ignores my waving, pushing the cup towards me until I have no choice but to take it or let him shove it into my chest. Cup now in my hands, the Arrancar fills it up before I can set it down on the table, something smug about the way he fills it to the brim. The ceramic cup warms almost instantly, and I have to bite back a curse as it sloshes over the rim as I switch it to my other hand when the heat becomes too much.

"Perfect, now please listen while you drink," Aizen says when the Arrancar finally makes his exits, carts rattling as he exits the throne room. With nothing more for it, I briefly blow across the tea before taking a long, slightly too hot, pull of the damn tea.

It goes down too warm and extremely uncomfortable as it burns a hot trail all the way to my stomach. With at least one polite sip taken from the cup, I move quickly to abandon it on the table. I'm so eager to ditch the too-hot cup that I don't care that leaning forward to place the cup on the table with both bring me into Starrk's personal space and places me directly into Aizen's line of sight.

"Kaname, the reflection."

At the sound of Aizen's command, I can't keep my eyes from turning towards him. To my dismay, I find him looking right at me, dark cunning eyes watching me even as a soft smile tugs the corner of his lips up.

The very same soft smile that has lulled many into a false sense of security.

But not me, not when I know what hides behind that smile, more or less. So I don't let the smile ease the nerves still churning through me. The very ones that spike every time I remember that I have to have a much-needed conversation with him and soon. How I'm going to pull that off is anyone's guess.

By the time I'm safely hiding behind Ulquiorra's chair, Tōsen has moved forward. The table dissolves into an image of Chad, Uuryuu, and Ichigo racing across the sand dunes and towards Las Noches.

"There are three intruders," Aizen begins, and I can't stop myself from looking at each one in turn, taking them in for the first time in this world. "Ishida Uryuu, Sado Yasutora, and Kurosaki Ichigo."

The others start talking amongst themselves instantly, appraising the intruders in nonchalant, if not belittling tones, but I tune them all out. I ignore the conversation going on around me in favor of watching Grimmjow's almost violent reaction to hearing Ichigo's name.

He tenses at that name. The bored look on his face melting into one of utter rage as his eyes lock onto Ichigo's image like a man possessed. Like Ichigo's continued existence is an insult to him. And really, the reaction doesn't surprise me, all things considered, but it gives me ideas.

As I watch the snarl spread across his lips, I can't help but think that maybe my biggest shot at saving Ulquiorra lies here, in Grimmjow's next move. In all that Grimmjow will do just to be the one to kill Ichigo. That he fails spectacularly is something that would be hilarious if it didn't lead to everything I'm trying to stop.

It is the direct result of Grimmjow's actions that Ulquiorra dies.

If Grimmjow hadn't been so obsessed with killing Ichigo, Ulquiorra wouldn't have had to die. If Grimmjow hadn't taken Orihime to him, it would be Ichigo who would be dead instead, slain by Ulquiorra in some crumbling tower and this would all be over. The war, the death of so many Espadas, the pain of my broken heart.

And there's so much wrong with that last part, I know. The worst of it being that he is evil. A monster. One that feasts on the souls of the innocent and one that doesn't feel emotions to top it all off. But whether or not the sentiment is returned, it is so much easier to love someone who is alive, than it is to love the dead.

And I refuse to be put through that. To have to figure out how to keep on living when someone you love is gone, lost to you. Call me selfish, call me stupid, call me every bad word you can think of, but I will not suffer now that I can change it. Now that I can give him the ending he deserved.

That they all deserved.

The Espadas deserved better. All of them. From the worst of them, violent and cruel Nnoitra, to the best, calm and passive Starrk. They deserved better than to have the promise of normalcy, of being something other than a deformed creature starved for souls with no other coherent thought than "eat", taken from them.

Especially when they're all still so god damn young.

When some of them have only just been turned into Arrancars days ago. When first of the Arrancars can't be more than a few years old. When they've only just relearned what it is to think, to feel, violent emotions or not.

When Ulquiorra, poor emotionless Ulquiorra, spent his years as a hollow, lost. Confused. Surrounded by darkness and unable to talk, to hear, to feel. Trapped by the very mask that marked him a monster, prisoner to the void of nothingness.

Of no sensation.

Hundreds of years spent surrounded by nothing, only for his time surrounded by everything to be cut short. To be stolen from him just as the world would begin to reach him, just as Orihime would begin to reach him. To have the world and all it holds spread before him and unable to connect with it before he could be cut down by Grimmjow's selfishness.

Because, even with the war essentially won with Ichigo dead, it just it has to be him. Apparently, it has to be Grimmjow and Grimmjow alone who kills Ichigo. Never mind that Ichigo is already way more powerful than him.

The idiot.

It is Grimmjow's fault that Ulquiorra ends up dying and it'll be a cold day in hell before I let that happen. I may not know exactly how I'm going to keep that from happening but if I know one thing, it's that the best course of action is to stop Grimmjow from reviving Ichigo. To hell with this whole pointless war.

There may be a special place in hell reserved for me already, but I'll be damned if I don't earn it twice over. What's a little more sin for the damned? If I have a one-way ticket to hell, what better way than to go in a blaze of glory.

And what better way to go than saving someone you love?

But, first, to get the attention of one equally deranged lunatic. To keep Grimmjow away from Ichigo, and by association Orihime, my first move needs to be to get on Grimmjow's good side. Not that I'm particularly sure he has one, but it's worth a shot anyway.

So when Grimmjow stands, I waste no time.

I jump over the table as best as I can, skin dragging painfully over the cold surface as I skid across it. Nothing about it is elegant in any way. It's all a mess of flailing limbs, knocked-over cups, spilled tea, and shouts of surprise as I scramble across the table and launch myself over the edge and into Grimmjow's back because, well, dramatic always works best in gaining someone's attention.

Grimmjow turns at the shouts and clatter of knocked-over pottery so that I end up colliding into his chest instead of his back. As unbalanced as he is, caught mid-turn, he has no hope of holding us both up when I throw my arms awkwardly around his chest. Though it is more than a little surprising when, instead of swatting me away, his own arms come out to catch me.

Well, at least now I know there's been a little progress there with our friendship.

Though what happens next is probably twice as painful as being swatted away would have been. Because, instead of just crashing into the floor, we tumble across it in a painful mess of limbs. More than once his elbows dig into me, knocking out the already meager air from my lungs. There will be more bruises along my body before the day is out, I just know it.

When we finally stop rolling, we both can't help but groan, aches popping up everywhere. It's almost a shame to have ruined Orihime's work so soon, but I have no other choice at this point, not when I already know what's coming.

What better way to get on someone's good side than to share their punishment?

"Grimmjow."

Aizen's voice is deceptively calm, composed as he doesn't even bother to turn our way. Grimmjow's sprawled out next to me, one arm trapped under me so that his hand curls easily into my side and clenches.

"Yes, sir?"

His sharp nails break through the exposed skin of my ribs easily, drawing blood that pools under his nails and leaves gleaming red tracks down my side. I can almost ignore it though, can brush it off as just another injury to be dealt with later as there are worst aches currently making themselves know, except he pulls.

He rakes his nails down my ribs and towards my back as he moves to pull his arm out from under me and shove me away. It's all the coaxing I need to roll away from him, cursing as I go as his nails leave a trail of bleeding scratches.

"Son of a…," I trail off as I pull up to my knees, one hand instinctively going to press at the wound when the movement of getting to my knees only seems to tear the skin further. Well, this was a miscalculation if I've ever seen one. "Well, fuck."

When I look back at Grimmjow, his eyes are already on me, bright and burning with more than a little anger as he rolls to his knees as well. There's a mini standoff between us then, eyes locked and neither of us moving until I'm suddenly hauled to my feet.

Cold hands wrap around my arms with no warning, tugging me to my feet before I can ever process the fact that I'm being made to stand. But I'm nowhere near grateful for the help when all it does is pull the scratches open further. By the time I'm on my feet, the whole left side of my uniform is now drenched in red.

Grimmjow raises to his feet then, eyes going to lock with none other than Ulquiorra because, weirdly enough, he's the only one willing to come to my rescue time and again. And I'd be lying if I said that it didn't breed a soft warmth in my heart even though I know it's only his sense of duty that has him running to my aid every time my stupidity lands me in danger.

"Explain yourselves," Aizen demands then, not even bothering to turn our way as he does. He sits still in his chair, eyes gazing forward in deceptive nonchalance, but I can already feel the tension building in the air, stifling enough that I'm already cursing my decision to do this.

To redirect some of Aizen's anger my way so that we can have a "bonding" experience. Because nothing bonds two individuals together as quickly as shared trauma. And what will happen next will be traumatic to the both of us.

"Trixy," Aizen prompts when Grimmjow does nothing but turn his glare back my way, his eyes daring me to talk. I don't flinch at the look though. Instead, I straighten up, pulling the long end of my asymmetrical shirt back over my ribs to soak up the blood that sluggishly drips onto my thoroughly ruined shorts.

"I was trying to stop him," I tell Aizen, ignoring the way Grimmjow's scowl deepens, promising pain I'm already intimately familiar with therefore unafraid of. "I didn't think it would be appropriate for him to seek out his death at this particular moment."

There's a quiet gasp from the onlooking Espadas, but I ignore it and I watch Grimmjow's face morph from anger to calculating. No doubt he's currently wondering over the truth of my statement, and I make sure not to show anything that would make him doubt the half-truth.

While he doesn't actually die from fighting Ichigo, he still gets beaten half to death when he finally faces him again. So there's enough truth in that statement that I can sell it as completely true to both him and Aizen.

"His death?" Aizen asks as I raise an eyebrow at Grimmjow, challenging him to prove me wrong when I've already admitted to knowing everything that will happen in this stupid, pointless war.

"I know everything," I mouth then, the reminder for Grimmjow and Grimmjow alone. Though I'm sure Ulquiorra sees it as well as his hand tightens around my arm. It's a warning, probably, but the pain of his tight grip pales drastically to the throbbing of my torn skin.

"I'm pleased that you would mobilize on my behalf," Aizen says then and I'm not sure who exactly that comment is direct to. Is it to me? For moving to stop Grimmjow without being commanded? Or to Grimmjow? For going to eliminate the threat before Aizen can order it? Or even Ulquiorra, for moving to my separate us before Grimmjow could think to attack me? "But I'm still in the middle of talking. For now, would you both please return to your seats?"

That's all the prompting I need to move. To get Ulquiorra out of the line of fire before what I know will come next happens. Shaking his hands off of my arms I nod towards his seat, quietly telling him to take his seat. When he doesn't move to do so, I nudge him, putting enough force in it that he actually moves, quietly making his way back to his chair.

But I don't follow after him, instead, I look my eyes back on Grimmjow, one eyebrow raising in challenge again even as my heart races. Anxiety hits me full force then. As I wait for the punishment that I can feel coming as the air grows thicker, tensions rising as neither of us move to take our seats.

The calculating look never leaves Grimmjow's face. Even as I begin to tense in anticipation for all the weight of Aizen's anger to crush us, Grimmjow watches me like he doesn't know whether he should rise to the challenge I keep throwing his way. As if he doesn't know whether it's worth risking everything to see if I'm lying about his death.

"What's wrong?"

But it's those words, the ones said seconds before disaster that finally has me breaking eye contact. As I shut my eyes close and every muscle in my body tenses involuntary as the air around us suddenly gets a thousand times heavier.

"I can't hear you, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez."

What happens next is nothing but pain. Heavy and stifling so that each breath is a struggle, the air too thick to properly breath as I'm brought to my knees instantly. In less than a second, I'm on the floor, my hands and knees the only thing keeping me from completely crashing onto the floor.

And Grimmjow?

Grimmjow stands as the pressure is nowhere near enough to bring him to his knees. But more than enough to crush me. To send me to the floor so that when I force my eyes open, it's to look up and take in the stunned look on his face as the pressure only continues to build. And I have just enough time to meet his eyes, surprised by more than the pressure surrounding us, to stare directly into them.

To watch as realization fills them because there is no panic in my eyes. There's nothing but resignation and that's enough. More than enough for him to know that I knew this was coming. That I was expecting this from the second I jumped across that table.

That I knew, and I refused to let him suffer alone.

So I have the pleasure to see the shock on his face, his narrowed eyes turning wide just as my elbows buckle and the world goes black.

Mission Accomplished.