So, this was Seireitei.
Stark scratched his nose, lounging up high on a limb within the grounds of Ugendo.
It was...nice. Just a day in Thirteenth's company and the Shinigami hadn't suspected a thing yet. Not the frail white-haired man whom carried the scent pervasive of true death, nor the bubbly easily excitable third seats who always hung around Ukitake Jushiro.
It was interesting to watch the man deal with his subordinates, never losing his temper, never coolly insulting their incompetence or even raising his reiatsu in threat, which must've been immense since Ukitake was a Taichou.
The differences between Thirteenth's Taichou and Aizen were...
Like night and day.
Even so, the Primera smiled faintly to himself, his head sinking to droop onto his chest. It was doubtful that Ukitake would treat him the same once he knew an Arrancar was in his midst. Stark knew all Shinigami were the same in their treatment of the damned souls. Perhaps not Rukia, he amended silently.
He had yet to hear one mention of Ulquiorra, but then he assumed the girl was smart enough not to-
"Lazy baka!"
Something whistled sharply through the air. Stark dropped down a hand, catching it solidly in his palm. "Is that how you normally greet people, Kuchiki-san?" The honorifics were a little strange to use in conjunction to a Shinigami's name, but apparently Rukia was some kind of Noble-? Lord Aizen had mentioned something about the Kuchiki clan, the head especially.
He tried not to think about Rukia's brother. Instead, bringing his cupped palm up to see a bright red apple, polished and warm from the sun resting in it.
He heard an angry huff.
"Just come down already!"
Peering between the leaves covering the branches, he saw her small black-clad form sinking beneath the tree up against the trunk. May as well... he had been keeping an eye for her to arrive yet here she had searched him out by herself. He relished the thought that maybe his task wasn't going to be as hard after all, that meant more time for sleeping later on.
Curling up his legs, he sprung down agile, darting twice to the side then finally dropping down swiftly beside her. Currents of air from his descent ruffled her hair, a few strands sliding out of place, she ignored them however, making a face as he sat down.
"You're fast...how come you didn't make a seated position?"
A flicker of unease rippled through him. "I-I'm not...well...to be honest." he tried look shamefacedly, running one hand through his hair, sounding almost chagrined. "I'm not very good at anything in particular..other than speed." Which was true, he thought in part for his conscience in lying to her. He didn't know any real Shinigami Kido- suddenly he wondered why he even was trying to make up excuses.
What was one more when his entire persona to the Shinigami was a lie?
Somehow that realization made him slightly..wistful.
To his surprise, she nodded vigorously.
"I see..." her large violet eyes turned somberly down to the blood red apple clutched between her small hands. "I'm not...very good at anything..either."
"You shouldn't... belittle yourself." The words left his mouth before he had even had a chance to think about it. For a time, he could sense her gaze on him. Turning quickly. Surprised as well. He had never given encouragement to anyone in his existence as a Hollow, giving it now to a Shinigami merely seemed...strange.
Different- he corrected. Preferring to separate different things like the apple as being the first object anyone had ever given him. Hollows didn't give other Hollows things. Lilinette being a part of him couldn't even give him her company.
Looking at the fruit which by comparison did not dwarf his hand as hers did, so different was the size of their hands; a little of the warmth the outside peeling held seemed to seep inwardly, warming his insides.
Rukia flushed the slightest bit, biting into her apple with a mutter he couldn't hear.
He didn't want to eat the apple in his hand.
Not when it was the first thing he had ever been given.
(*)*)*)Las Noches Palace(*)*)*)
The trash were louder this day.
From within the sanctum of his rooms, he could hear them.
Perhaps it was the absence of the Primera and the Segunda's futile attempts to supplant him. Ulquiorra could not care less, even though the bothersome Fraccion of Stark's, Lilinette had made a point as they each filed off their separate ways from the meeting, that Stark was on a top secret mission.
That was logical as the Primera had been sent before to gather potential soldiers from the Hueco Mundo desert dwellers.
Like himself.
The knowledge though being the truth, could not afford the Cuatro peace of mind, having Rukia closer, would've. He had not forgotten the Primera's threat toward her nor Stark's involvement in...that realization either.
There could be no easily forgetting that which lay closely guarded within his emotionless facade.
Love- the least of which. Slight perturbation, slight annoyance at the restriction to his movements. Above all...the feeling of lack.
Not the aching expanse within a normal Hollow; Ulquiorra had long surpassed the baseness, knowing even before. He had fed less, much less as a Vasto Lordes once Rukia was firmly enrooted within his structure of sight. Ulquiorra believed in everything his eyes saw as real. True. Her absence of fear, even welcoming though irritated the last time they had seen each other, had substantiality to it.
Rukia did not hate his very being as all other Shinigami did.
Rukia did not fear him, nor the power he had used to protect her as something monstrous.
He wanted-
The nature of want wasn't unfamiliar to a Hollow, yet the nature of the want lacked the very thing that made Hollows inhuman, foul creatures.
He wanted her safe.
He wanted her near, so he could watch over her.
Why...why hadn't Lord Aizen retrieved her yet?
Though he did not wish to disobey orders of his absent Lord; it disturbed him the thought that she was left to her own devices, despite he was sure, she would've been vehemently denying she was weak, or foolish or any of the like.
He knew differently however, closing his viridian eyes to the empty monochrome room.
"Ulquiorra-sama...sir, where do you want this?" The meek voice of the servant Arrancar, tamed to servile attendance, spoke when the other one wouldn't. Items of human make. They seemed almost insignificant to his apathetic gaze, yet it was Ichimaru's offer, the understanding being that Rukia would require items such as those very ones he frowned upon as they were settled carefully down.
The servants swiftly left, yet returned eventually with a chest of heavy oak in creamy colors.
"That is all." He dismissed curtly, never once sparing the lowly trash another glance.
"Yes, sir." Heels clicked. Bows made. The door soon closed to blessed silence. He went to the chest, lifting up the heavy, carved lid; gazing solemnly at the contents. In time, he bent, gathering up the silky flowing garment in his arms, carrying it to the side of the bed where he laid his burden down carefully.
It was a white dress.
Ulquiorra taxed himself on patience.
Soon she would wear it...soon she would be at his side.
He just had to have faith in Lord Aizen's word.
(*)*)*)*Unknown place*(*)*)*)
Pain. Searing through his skull.
Ichigo longed to wrap his hands around his head in an attempt to gain any measure of release from it. Please-please-
Yet could not seem to move. His arms and legs were firmly placed against his sides and apart just the slightest space. He had no voice in the never ending blackness to which he opened his eyes to. Nothing but-
"What're you doing just lying there, baka? Get up!" Yelled a familiar voice close by.
Ru-Rukia? He hardly dared hope, lifting his head up, staring into the pitch. He could not see her yet there was no mistaking those tones.
"Get up, I said!"
He started.
The midget was there suddenly. Standing over him in an overlarge T-shirt and a skirt of Yuzu's. Scowling down at him from all her petite height. "What? Are you just going to keep sitting there looking even more like an idiot? C'mon!" Then, she thrust her hand in his face, her manners irritating as always.
He stared at the small, thin hand with delicately pointed nails, his own arm raising from his side and then larger hand sliding into hers. He could move. Could speak. "R-Rukia?" for some reason his voice was rusty, hoarse with disuse. The midget was surprisingly strong as she pulled him to his feet, unsatisfied until she was pulling him forward faster than his legs were willing to travel.
"..Is it really you?"
She stopped, deliberately turning halfway so he could see her eye-roll. "Of course it is! Now, hurry up! They're waiting for you!"
"Who is?" The last thing he remembered...Ichigo scowled. His memory was blank, considering everything that probably wasn't a good thing. A new thought occurred to him, one he didn't particularly like. "I'm...dreaming, aren't I?"
She didn't answer, instead tugging urgently once more on his hand. "Hurry! You need to get out of here, Ichigo!"
"Why?" He didn't understand her. It was dark yes, all around cloying blackness loomed. Yet on the other end...he wasn't afraid anymore.
"Because!" She turned fully around, her image suddenly wavering like a ripple on water. "This place is-"
"Ru-" startled by the intangibility of her, he reached out his other hand in a vain attempt to hold her there. His fingers passed through thin air.
She was gone.
Gone.
Gone and he was spiraling through the blackness, shutting his eyes against the iciness that cut daggers into his heart, anchoring deep within his soul.
Then, nothing.
He had landed on solid ground. Coldness was beneath his face. Tentatively placing his palms against the ground, he discovered it to be very firm. Where was the midget? Concern overcame the irrationality of his situation as light flooded his eyes when he opened them. A large, flat expanse of...concrete?
Farther ahead, a row of windows like the windows of a business building ran three deep. Panes reflecting the sideways sky above. What the...hell? Ichigo tried to make sense of everything. Amber eyes darting around feverishly, then back down noting he still wore the gray jacket over a white T-shirt and matching gray slacks. His school uniform.
At least that helped. He did remember-
He stiffened, involuntarily pressing a tentative hand to his chest where a hole should've been. Now a chain protruded. A chain like-
"Boy!" A deep male voice called out sharply.
Ichigo spun toward the sound, his palms burning where they scraped the cement. He did not trust his legs to stand up. "Who...are you?" His startled gaze alighted upon the speaker as a middle-aged man dressed in head to toe black. Flowing dark shoulder-length hair lifted in a breeze he could not feel, the stranger's gaze riveted solely on him. It bothered Ichigo that he could not see the man's eyes through the tinted sunglasses.
"Who am I?" The man asked as though vaguely insulted.
Ichigo decided he didn't like his attitude. "Yeah, I don't particularly associate with anyone as gloomy as you and especially since what the hell did you do to Rukia?" The last part ended on a hiss, fueled by rising anger.
For a moment dark brown eyes peered over the top of the sunglasses, scrutiny given in a manner which seemed to question his sanity. "There is no one else here but you and I."
(*)*)*)Fifth Division office, Seireitei(*)*)*)
..So, the Grand Fisher had been successful.
The silence of his office was particularly favored; Hinamori's obedience like a servile dog could be so mundane sometimes, so he had sent her off on a few errands she had been more than pleased to carry out.
The simpleton..
Aizen sipped at the tea which had cooled to mild warmth. One of Hinamori's few skills, particularly one he lamented its absence in Las Noches; that of tea ritual. Her cup of tea was by far the most flavorful that had ever passed beneath his discerning tastes.
The one thing that disturbed his enjoyment of the fresh pot, Hinamori was so kind to leave; was of the new task to assign to Gin. Really, the man had much curiosity, particularly fixation like a mania with little Kuchiki Rukia. Gin was likely to alarm her, or to arouse suspicion were he to begin his little games again.
And that Aizen could not have.
Reflecting with a faint smile like a satisfied grin that didn't extend to mellow out the hardened predator's edge from his eyes, it was better than expected, what the Primera Espada's placement among the Shinigami had resulted in.
Nary a drop of suspicion had fallen from Ukitake's accepting officers, nor from the man himself.
That in itself wasn't surprising.
It was merely the Captain of sixth's actions that had drawn a net of wariness to enclose the schemes of his. While Aizen had wished to examine Kuchiki Rukia under the settings of which she belonged, he knew of his Cuatro's wearing thin patience as well.
So amusing.
But, he didn't believe Ulquiorra capable of insurrection merely because he had taken time on delivering Kuchiki Rukia. Rather... Aizen's deep, dark brown eyes studied the few black dregs at the bottom of the earthenware cup, pensively.
To leave everything she had regained behind.
To betray her race and live in the world of white where the darkness became a falsity of pure light.
It was strength of her impossible feelings, he desired to learn the extent of.
And for that he needed more time.
-TBC
AN: Breaking the Soul will be updated, it's just a little late this time. Instead, I did this chapter to make up for it :)
No flames!