Chapter 29: quietus

Her screams wouldn't die down, and thoroughly at a loss, Ichigo quickly donned his robes and likewise put garments on Orihime to give her a sense of decency, before throwing open his chamber door and calling for aid.

The House, in answer to the urgency, rearranged its walls with haste so that the closest room was his father's council chamber, and the double doors now positioned across from his were flung open of their own volition, startling the occupants within: Isshin, as well as Unohana and Kisuke.

A jesting commentary was on the tip of Isshin's tongue, but was left hovering in bewilderment, and alarm grew upon the elder gods' expressions as they heard the cries coming from behind Ichigo.

"F-father..."

With their relationship as it was, Isshin had grown used to his son calling him "old man" when addressing him, but hearing what Ichigo used to call him after all this time, laced with helplessness and the sense of growing loss that hadn't been there since his wife, Masaki, passed away, he couldn't bring himself to savour being addressed as such.

The black-haired Goddess of Healing flew past Ichigo at the door to tend to Orihime on the bed, followed by the God of Invention and Knowledge. Isshin could only fasten a hand on his son's shoulder, and drew him to where the others were assessing what could be ailing the Death God's bride. He tried to communicate commiseration and comfort through his touch, and also as an attempt to temper Ichigo from unleashing his power out of his being distraught.

With the Goddess of Healing's power, Unohana was able to somehow restrain Orihime, giving the younger woman a draught that immediately sedated her to fitful sleep.

Puzzlement suffused through the air as they questioned Ichigo about what had transpired. Broken words through an uncontrollably broken voice answered them.

"...A-and then s-she said that...she wished that the years will fly by...so that we can greet the baby—"

"That's it," interjected Kisuke, snapping his closed fan upon his palm. "Don't you remember, Mr Death, sir? Senna's apples? The ones she gave to you and Orihime, the seeds contain within them Senna's wishes. For the one for Orihime, she wished for her to wish for your child to be born."

At the Death God's haggard look, the tow-headed god further reasoned, "It is the only way for Orihime to have undergone in mere minutes what a goddess usually has a century to go through."

"Judging from the size and set of her stomach," said Unohana from her seat on the bed as she felt around the hard bump protruding from the sleeping patient, "she's about ninety-five years along. But even saying that, with this fast advancement it's hard to tell if her body will continue on to finish the pregnancy's term and have her give birth in the next few hours or so..."

The God of Knowledge scratched his chin as he thought. "I do recall that she didn't finish the apple that Senna gave her. Perhaps, in not consuming it wholly, this is as far as that wish can be granted?" He couldn't help the note of admiration that coloured his tone as he muttered under his breath, "Ara, that Goddess of Autumn sure is a wily one."

"Then, it seems Orihime is stable for now," said Isshin in a soothing voice, his hand squeezing his son's shoulder.

The black-haired goddess looked up and directed her gaze to Ichigo. "Yes. She is only sleeping, and it will last for a few days. It is the only way I can think of to have her mentally cope through the change that she's suddenly physically undergoing. The sleep will ease her mind and subdue the pain; it will allow her to get used to her new condition."

His nails dug into his palm painfully as he tightened his fists.

"Son..." Isshin's voice faltered.

"...'m fine..." Ichigo's voice came out as a mere breath.

The God of Life let go of his shoulder. "You still feel her spiritual pressure, right? That means she's alright. And look on the bright side: you'll have your child join you sooner than expected, and your new family will be complete."

Realizing what Isshin was after, the Goddess of Healing assuaged, "When she wakes in a few days, all will be well. She was turned into a goddess in a timely manner, meaning that the components of her body have already been changed to accommodate something like this, and so she will survive this pregnancy."

Ichigo uncurled his hands and ran them through his hair, then gave a nod. "If you say so. I trust your word."

Isshin gave him one last pat on the shoulder. "She'll be fine. And if she's still asleep by tomorrow when you have to leave for work, I'll speak to Renji and ask him to look after her in your place. And the three of us here will make sure to check on her condition often, and send you word if there has been any changes."

He waited until Ichigo dipped his head in a nod, then muttered, "She's a strong one. You both will make it through this," before leaving to seek out the Goddess of Snow's husband.

When he was finally left alone, Ichigo remained as he was at the side of the bed, staring down at the distended stomach of his sleeping bride.

Senna's wish, he thought, fury growing at the implication of that. If Orihime hadn't drank the draught Kisuke had cunningly given her under the guise of a celebratory beverage…if she had eaten that apple before she'd had a chance to be turned… Ichigo couldn't help but wonder if Senna was unaware that Orihime had been changed into a goddess, that was why she felt confident in presenting that apple under the guise of a wedding gift.

He took from the folds of his coat the vial that still held the green liquid that Kisuke had given him. He supposed he had to thank the God of Invention and Knowledge for being the underhanded bastard he had the propensity to be, averting the worse that could have happened. Ichigo couldn't even bear to imagine losing Orihime so soon.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand hovered over her ripe belly, hesitant, afraid, before steeling himself and letting it descend. He felt a faint spiritual pressure coming from within her, separate from hers but at the same time, entangled.

"Hi there," he greeted the slight stirrings of a new life housed within her body. "I…"

I don't know what to say, he finished in his head. I thought I would have a hundred years to get used to the idea of you, but I guess not. I'm still unprepared. But I'm—we're happy to know you'll be joining us soon. Just…be safe. And take care of your mother.

He raised his hand in order to cup Orihime's cheek. Come back to me soon.

His days after that became a routine of vigils by her bedside as he waited for her to wake, only leaving to perfunctorily fulfill his duty as the God of Death, greeting Renji at the door as he stood guard over Orihime at the behest of Ichigo and Isshin.

On the night of the fourth day, as Ichigo laid by Orihime's side watching the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, he received a black butterfly message from Ulquiorra to tell him that the appointed day was tomorrow and to come to him at the oasis where they'd met just the week before.

He turned, staring at the ceiling with a resigned sigh, watching the butterfly flutter away from his periphery. As much as he wanted to delay their appointment until he knew for sure that Orihime was safe, he couldn't afford to face the punishment that would be meted out should he renege on their agreement.

Feeling suddenly restless, he sat up, thrusting his hands through his hair and pulling at the strands. Now was not a good time to place his heart in someone else's hand. His heart was overcome with turmoil and worry—weaknesses that he couldn't very well have anyone else witness. He was feeling too vulnerable, too open.

But payment was payment, the fair barter between gods. Without Ulquiorra's intervention at Karakura, the villagers wouldn't have offered Orihime to the God of Death as a sacrifice, and Ichigo wouldn't have known what it was like to have her in his life.

Laying back down at her side upon the bed, he buried his face at her neck, taking a deep inhale of her scent and feeling against his lips her steadily beating pulse. Wrapping his arm around her middle, he stroked her belly, taking what measure of consolation he could from his family.

"Orihime," whispered Ichigo against her ear. "Give me strength to face tomorrow. I don't think I can go another day without you. Come back to me soon. I love you."

The morning of the fifth day still brought no sign of her waking. And though he was wary, he was forced to leave her side. The moon would be full that night, and so he had to set out to fulfill his end of the bargain with the God of Despair and Visions.

After leaving a kiss on her lips, he transformed into his white form and opened the door, finding Renji and Rukia just outside.

"Morning," greeted the Goddess of Snow.

"Hey," waved Renji.

The Death God dipped his head in a nod.

As he crossed the threshold, the two entered his bedchamber as had been the case since the day Renji was asked to monitor Orihime. Rukia would stay with him, having breakfast together and speaking to Orihime as though she was conscious and joining them, then afterwards leaving for Rangiku's temple in Junrinan to continue her work on painting the assigned wall. Sometime during the day, Renji would be temporarily relieved by various gods who wanted to check on Orihime: Isshin, Kisuke, Yoruichi, and Unohana.

Contrary to the usual routine of simply disappearing in a flash when on his way to the mortal world, Ichigo instead made his way to the labyrinth garden, heading for the gate that led out into the desert that bordered his father's house. Past the ever-changing dunes and toward the oasis where he'd met with Ulquiorra a week ago he went, finding the god there perched upon the gnarled tree much like before. On seeing him, the God of Despair glided down from the branch, gently landing in front of him and sweeping his wings back to rest on his back.

"Well met, o God of Death," said the green-eyed god, face still showing the same impassive expression.

"Ulquiorra," said Ichigo by way of greeting.

"Are you ready?"

For a very small moment, he wanted to say no. But he steeled his resolve, inhaling deeply. Instead of answering, he raised his left hand up to the sky, then placed the right over his chest, hiding the hole, and closed his eyes.

There was no pain.

He recalled, a long time ago, how it had been like when he first took his heart out. It was as easy and painless now as it was then. Through his left arm he felt the pulse beat of his heart, reaching up to the sky draw it back into himself. As slowly but surely the moon took shape in his hand, he felt colour seep back into his form, felt his hair recede into his scalp, felt the mask break over his face and dissipate into the air. As he held the throbbing silver globe of his heart, he was back in the form he took at sunset—with the short orange spikes and brown eyes—everything the same except for the gaping hole that remained in his chest.

With a nervousness that he couldn't quite hide, Ichigo held out his hand, and the God of Despair and Visions took the proffered heart.

His pale hands delicately cupped the moon, the green eyes barely sparing it a glance as he instead kept staring at the Death God in what could be equated as expectant, if Ulquiorra was capable of such a thing.

Ichigo just numbly stared right back. "What?"

Verdant optics blinked at him. "Rest assured, God of Death, I will return this to you."

Despite the words meant to convey reassurance, Ichigo felt the opposite effect. "...Yeah..."

"So you needn't stay to see what I will do. I am merely going to look for the answers to my questions, and your presence is not required for that. I'd rather not have any audience."

"Right."

"I'm sure you have pressing matters to attend to."

Ichigo still couldn't bring himself to budge. "Um, yeah, sure."

Ulquiorra thought for a moment, and then spake thus, "I'm aware about the state of your bride. If it pleases you to know, I had seen that she will be waking up today."

At this, the orange-haired god started, feeling the ghost of his heart in his chest hammering at that piece of information.

Feeling the sudden increase of the Death God's heart rate from the moon in his grasp, Ulquiorra finally gave it a cursory curious glance, before gazing back up to Ichigo. "Should you not go to her, then?"

'Yes' and 'no' warred within Ichigo. 'Yes', he wanted to see her so badly. Wanted to see her smile. Wanted to see life and energy flowing from her, evidences that would give him comfort to beheld. Wanted to feel her touch him, lips upon lips, exchange of breaths and tastes, feeling her reciprocate and lead and follow.

And 'no' because…he didn't know how he could ask for forgiveness: for failing to protect her from the enemy that had been after her long before he knew her. For failing to see the consequences of bringing the plague upon her village had wrought upon her life. For always taking, always delaying giving her the answers she sought. Always late. Sometimes too late.

Disheartened by the lack of ready answer, he simply dipped his head in a nod. "Until later, then, Ulquiorra."

"Farewell, o God of Death."

If Ichigo felt any stirrings of misgivings at those words and the finality infixed in that god's tone, he simply brushed it aside and convinced himself it was simply because his heart was now literally in another person's grasp—and it was the God of Despair's, at that. Who wouldn't feel tense in such a situation? he asked himself. It was only to be expected.

But even the news that Orihime would wake soon couldn't shake off his unease. Looking down at the hole in his chest, he could just imagine what his father's guests would say when they saw him like this, especially that tow-headed God of Invention and Knowledge. Their questions could wait. He'd rather greet Orihime when he was whole again.

It was seldom that anything caused Ulquiorra any surprise—it was part and parcel of also being the God of Visions—but for certain, if he felt he had the capacity for it, that was what would be upon his visage as he examined the silver globe in his hands.

It was neither cold nor hot, and other than the steady beats as it pumped the life-force of the God of Death and the Moon, Ulquiorra couldn't feel anything else from it.

"Why?" he asked it, shaking it a bit then held it against his cheek. "I don't feel what he feels. Because of you he felt something called love. Passion. Anger. I have you in my hands and yet I cannot understand." Puzzlement furrowed his brow as he thought. "My hands can't feel emotions. That is it. It is here," he placed a hand on his chest, right over the hole that graced it. "I have no heart myself, but would his heart make me feel as he felt? Make me understand?"

He brought the Death God's moon-heart to his chest, attempting to push it into the hole, turning it this way and that as he tried to fit it in.

His frown deepened. It seemed the God of Death's heart was too big for him, and he couldn't help wondering what that was supposed to convey. Because he was numb and hollow, his chest was too narrow a vessel to contain a heart like the Death God's? He was inadequate. His scope of understanding too limited because he couldn't feel. Whose heart, then, would be enough to fill the gaping void within him?

He held the heart out at arm's length, inspecting it from that distance.

"Even now I have no answer. Even you cannot give me the answer."

"Well, then," came a voice from behind him.

Then there was a blur of movement from his periphery, and suddenly his hand was empty.

"If you're done satisfying your curiosity, I think it's time we satisfy mine," announced the God of Destruction, flicking the globe back and forth between his hands, a manic grin spreading on his lips. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for this moment."

In the distance, Ichigo suddenly clutched his hand over the hole on his chest. And with eyes wide open, the God of Death and the Moon collapsed upon the ground, unconscious.

Like a game, the heart bounced like a ball between the two as they fought. A dark, furred leg swung as Ulquiorra kicked at Grimmjow's hand, and the heart flew up into the air. The God of Destruction swept his other arm, catching Ulquiorra's cheek, sending him crashing into the sand. Claws elongated and swiped, catching skin and blood, movements became a blur as the figures in black and white attacked and parried each other.

When the moon landed upon the sand, it lay forgotten as both gods became lost in their own clash, the world receding to contain only the two and their struggle to best the other, one enacting the revenge he'd been longing for and the other occupied by the curiosity of the questions that filled his mind.

What is the difference between the appetite for destruction and the appetite for revenge? thought Ulquiorra.

Despite the wounds that had been inflicted upon him, Grimmjow's lips still held that manic glee, as though it was only in this very moment when he was fighting for his life that he felt truly wholly alive.

With cold calculation, Ulquiorra finally saw an opening. "I'd taken your stomach before, and I didn't understand then. If I take your heart, will I feel what you feel? Will I understand what really drives you?" he asked as he plunged his hand into Grimmjow's chest.

Blood spurted from his mouth. Breathing heavily, Grimmjow looked down at the pale arm protruding from his chest. He'd only just managed to grab Ulquiorra's wrist, preventing the God of Despair from pushing deeper and taking hold of his own heart.

"Whatever it is you're trying to do, Grimmjow," said the God of Vision in an emotionless voice, "you've failed."

The God of Destruction laughed and shook his head, spewing blood. "You're wrong. Even if you had to take me with you, this is still good enough. I got close enough to do this."

He opened his tightly fisted other hand. On his palm rested the small box he and the Goddess of Autumn acquired from Szayel. The one that was called the 'cage'. For its small size, what it truly was was a prison that would bring them to another dimension. It negated the spiritual pressure of gods and kept their powers contained, rendering them helpless and disabling them from escaping. However, it could only be used on gods who had become physically incomplete: those who had lost a corporeal part of themselves, showing a hollow hole where that which was lost used to be. It had an affected range of a three metre-radius, the centre of which would be the god who was unfortunate enough to be the one the cage was put into. Gods who were complete of body were unaffected even if they were close by, but not so for gods who weren't.

Moving quickly and holding fast on to Ulquiorra, he threw the box into the gaping hole of the God of Despair's chest.

Laughing ferociously, he watched as the bat-god's eyes widened, relishing the suddenly-differing expressions he saw fly upon his face.

"Shi—" began the God of Despair, the first ever curse to grace his lips.

Before he could finish, bright light enveloped the both of them.

They disappeared.

Upon an outcropping of rocks that overlooked the oasis, butterfly wings unfolded from the figure who called himself the other God of Knowledge as he turned to face the spectator beside him.

"He sacrificed himself," commented Szayel, wonder woven into his tone.

"So you've seen," said the woman with the eyes of tangerine. "And now our bargain has been settled. You've borne witness to what we were using that cage for. I'm sure you have no other business here."

Words of protest died upon his throat, and Szayel was inclined to bow his head instead. "Thank you for allowing me to witness such a feat, my lady. I trust the use of my device is accordingly satisfying?"

"Yes. You may take your leave."

"My lady." With one last salute, the Butterfly Man flew back to his abode.

Extending her senses to feel if there were other presences in the area, she was pleased to discover only one, but it was weak and still quite a distance away. Nodding to herself that the way was clear, she leapt from her perch to land upon the sand that held in its grains the silver globe shaped like the moon. A pair of slender hands reached down and picked up the heart.

Eyes closing, the owner of the hands hugged the heart to her chest.

You're mine now.

APPENDIX

Unohana - Goddess of Healing
Kisuke - God of Knowledge and Invention
Isshin - God of Life
Rukia - Goddess of Snow and the Arts
Ulquiorra - God of Despair and Visions (transforms into a half-human, half-bat)
Grimmjow - God of Destruction (transforms into a panther)
Senna - Goddess of Autumn (filler character from Bleach: Memories of Nobody movie)
Szayel - formerly a messenger butterfly that evolved into the form of a man; calls himself the other God of Knowledge with permission from Urahara, the actual God of Knowledge
Cage - based on "Caja Negacion" from Bleach manga chapter 278. It's a small cube that entraps Arrancar in another dimension. Grimmjow used this on Ulquiorra, and it thus served as the inspiration for the scene seen here.

A/N: Happy New Year! As we near the end of this story, I just want to give everyone my heartfelt thanks for your support, patience, feedbacks/reviews, and encouragement. We made it this far, yay! You guys don't know how glad I am to finally use the stuff I wrote (around 2011 or something *lol*) way back when I thought up of the direction this story would go. The end is coming, so please stay tuned ^^

I would love to read your thoughts about this chapter. I'd be really grateful if you leave me a review. Let's help this chapter reach that magic number I'm wishing for ^^

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

Flashback order: 14, 2, 9, 13, 17, 3, 15, 11, 8, 7, 6, 5, 12, 4, 10, 16.

Thanks for reading :)
Jan/2015