He was disturbed. Solely from the fact that Rukia Kuchiki was his duty and yet...
Ichimaru was his superior. A subordinate had no right to question the actions of a higher up being. Aizen-sama must've permitted it. There were no other explanations. Aizen-sama had allowed Ichimaru to...rape her.
He didn't like this.
The body of a Shinigami was frail. Permanent damage might've occurred had he not come upon them when he had. Warmth seeped between his fingers. Absently his fist uncurled, removing it from his pocket, Ulquiorra glimpsed the red oozing from the broken skin of his palm. He was angry?
Replacing the other, he noticed tiny crescent marks in the flesh. Tiny slits gleamed dully from the sharpness of his nails piercing them. His mind vaguely registered the absence of pain. Arrancars possessed Hierro that was almost armor-like in repelling simple attacks. It could not be cut easily. Rukia...he had been thinking of her.
Her face...her eyes filled with the most bitterest of shame.
Ulquiorra thought no less of her; for he was sure she had expected pity and not desired it.
But, he didn't pity her. Rather, he had pity for no one. He had merely anticipated her state of mind and understood that she wouldn't have wanted the touch of the Arrancar servants. Despite their absence of the heart, he had sometimes detected something slightly different in their manner of speaking about the Shinigami.
The food as well was carefully prepared without an express order for it to be of fine quality.
Aizen-sama couldn't have cared less whether or not the victuals were to Rukia's liking.
She was only kept alive for his own amusement.
That brought another, far more unpleasant task to mind. Orihime Inoue. In the space of time between retrieving the towels and cleansing as best he could, the Shinigami's rectal passage. He had completely forsaken his duty to the woman.
This was not to be born. He hadn't accomplished the duties Aizen-sama had set out before him. Ulquiorra felt a brief sense of disorientation as if the world before him was sliding apart, reforming into something different. Beyond what he knew.
Everything recorded by his eye was truth.
Real. The long white high-ceilinged corridor hadn't changed. It continued on down the path to Aizen-sama's quarters. Something in him, something remaining from his discarded perception, urged that he leave it be.
Aizen-sama was not to be questioned over such trivial a matter.
But, another, stronger desire made his body begin moving again. Down, down to the white double doors.
Rukia.
He had to know the reasoning behind Aizen-sama's action of allowing Gin Ichimaru to damage her.
The woman-Orihime Inoue was of no importance.
*~*)
Rukia's slumber was brief. Coming out of a waking dream, her unfocused eyes blearily opened to the padded floor. Where was she? A strange musky scent hung in the air, one that turned her stomach. As her vision cleared further, she slowly took in the details of the padded three walls and the iron bound door set deep into the fourth wall.
A cell. The blessed numbness faded. All at once Rukia remembered where she was and what...what Ichimaru had done to her. She bit down harshly on her lip, choking back the sob that threatened to escape her raw throat.
Distantly she felt her nakedness hidden by the white sheet. The fabric was soft, she discovered as her fingers hesitantly gripped the hem and tugged it up higher over her shoulders. Ulquiorra must've covered her. For a fleeting second she had a brief remembrance of his light touch, much like one given for comfort. It had been different than others she had received from him. Others like the brutal chafing of her inner thighs and the nails that dug into the tender flesh of her hips.
No, Ulquiorra had been different.
That wasn't her imagination. But, why? Rukia puzzled over the subtle change in his exterior. What did it mean? It wasn't pity, she was sure of that. He was a heartless creature, one that didn't hold honor and respect for anything. Least of all his enemy.
Was she even still his enemy? Most likely Soul Society knew of their failed mission. Disgust filled her when she thought of what Orihime had been degraded as. A traitor. But, surely. Surely! Her brother would know. He would know it was false and that she was still alive...wouldn't he?
Ulquiorra's words replayed in her mind.
"Ichigo Kurosaki chose to continue on and leave you to die."
Rukia's silent curses on Ulquiorra lacked depth. Doubt had seeped in, poisoning her beliefs, turning her towards utter despair. What if Ichigo had believed she had died? What if they all believed it? Then there was no...
The quiet, broken sob shattered the still air.
Escape.
(*~*)
"Ah, Ulquiorra..." Aizen was seated regally on the large high-backed sofa, on a small table near him, reposed an elegant silver pot. "I was just about to have some tea. Would you care to join me?"
Though tea was served during the meetings, none of the Arrancar had ever tasted it.
Ulquiorra had no inclination to do so now, however, he still accepted the deeper winter cup without a refusal.
The fragrant steam curled gently upward, Aizen inhaled of it deeply, his eyes closing in enjoyment. "So, what is it you wished to question me about?"
Ulquiorra kept his expression blank, concealing well his surprise. "It is a-trivial matter. I won't concern Aizen-sama with it."
"Come now!" Aizen's expression was open, friendly. "Speak and I will be the judge of whether or not I shall be concerned."
The kindly tone disguised a will of iron. Ulquiorra was no fool. He recognized the command hidden within the assumed mildness. "It is..about Kuchiki Rukia."
Aizen inclined his head in a listening position. "Go on."
"Ichimaru..."
(*~*) Soul Society~
Flanked by Renji and another Shinigami from the Sixth Squad whose name escaped him; Ichigo stared through the small sea of black robed warriors to the plain stone tablet marking the earth.
In loving memory..
He stared hard through the painful burning in his chest. The anger rising despite his promises to Yoruichi and the lies she had cleverly spun for them to recite. He wanted to tilt his head up at the sky and yell for all the world to hear that Rukia Kuchiki wasn't dead.
But, he couldn't. Not when their eyes were on him. Not when he had to fake sorrow for a friend whom had been lost.
Orihime didn't receive a marker or even an acknowledgement.
She was still a traitor in every sense of the word and hadn't been cleared of the false charges.
Byakuya's impassive face rankled him deeply inside. A small box had been buried in the earth containing a few things that had been left behind. Ichigo thought of the stack of badly drawn Chappy pictures in his closet and scowled darkly.
This was a pretense. His eyes slowly traveled over Ukitake's bowed head and Kiyone sobbing in Sentaro's arms. Those whom hadn't been close to her, but knew her by face or name; wore grim expressions at the first casualty of the War.
He knew they were all silently vowing vengeance for the fallen comrade.
The way old man Yamamoto had wanted.
A sacrifice had to be made, a death to muster the idle Shinigami to arms.
Rukia had been that sacrifice.
(*~*) Las Noches~
Orihime knelt before the great white sofa, her legs pillowed beneath her.
Rukia...
The tears had long since dried on her cheeks. Ulquiorra hadn't come and that lead her mind so naturally used to happy things to fill with anguish. She could only imagine the agony Rukia was going through...and it had been all her fault.
She was powerless, she saw that now.
Unable to help Ichigo, forever a burden to her friends.
Fresh tears blurred her sight.
The door creaked open.
She turned, "Ulqui-"
"O-ri-hime..." Two small Arrancars grinned wolfishly at her from the crack in the door. "Can...you...come...out...and...play?"
(*~*)
"Gin was merely bored and in need of a trifle amusement." Aizen's smile was generous without a hint of censure nor reproach in face or manner. "He has always possessed some degree of-ah fascination with Ms. Kuchiki. Today's occasion was merely an instance of it."
The tea filling his cup was cold. The ceramic was cool in his hands. Yet Ulquiorra did not relinquish the hold he maintained. Fascination? He had never understood his Master's keeping of such a dangerous man whose moods were incomprehensible to the world. Even to his eyes, Ichimaru's smile was unreadable.
Ulquiorra attempted to recollect himself. "I would ask that Ichimaru-san not interfere with my care of the woman."
Aizen's smile remained the same, however in the depths of the dark brown eyes something cunning glittered within. "I fail to grasp your meaning. Gin did not cause any interference, Ulquiorra. Ms. Kuchiki received her meal, did she not?"
That was true, part of him conceded. "Yes, however, physical damage did occur. It is merely-" not even he could understand where the desire for the acknowledgement of Ichimaru's transgression came from.
"Ulquiorra."
He fell silent.
Aizen regarded him with a faint half-smile and smug, knowing eyes. "Have you not done the same?"
"No." The word slipped from his parted lips before his analytical mind understood the implications of what his simple denial meant.
"Ulquiorra..there is no difference between what you have done and what Gin has done in your mind."
~To be continued~
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