He did not despise the woman. Acknowledgement of that lack, born of their own disparate species centuries' worth of bloodshed; did little to explain ..this.
His change.
If he had ceased to regard her with mild loathing, then what was left...?
His mind detached from the moment, looked upon everything with absorption. Later on, he would remember the minutest details. The flecks of dark blue in her eyes, the rough patch of skin just beneath her elbow, a healed scar adorning her ribcage.
Battle scars she had.
Then, more recent ones. Yellowish-purple fading to dullness that he pressed lips to in silent reparation- for what his mind could not fathom.
'For not being there to stop it.' Whispered yet another part.
But, Ulquiorra himself did not hear it.
The wo- no. Rukia was in his arms, against him. Everywhere.
Her touches were feather-light, ghosting along the panes of his breast, over the crater of his empty chain of fate. It seemed to fascinate her, and her fingers moved along the outer ridge, careful, once even questioning quietly- curiously if it hurt?
He said nothing at first, aware of the note he caught in her voice.
Worry.
His eyes closed briefly, his hand sliding over the back of hers, to interlock fingers. "No." Ulquiorra answered emotionlessly. Rukia's expression flickered, her grasp tightened, she leaned forward to brush her lips tenderly near the hole proving he had lost his heart.
"I'm sorry," she murmured against his skin.
Sorry..
Sentiment seemed meaningless, spoken in the hushed room.
His mind pointed it out as so.
How could she- a Shinigami be sorry for her enemy?
Once again, he couldn't fathom her.
Rukia was an enigma, one that his rationality declared would become his downfall.
Yet as her lips touched his, her violet eyes at once so clear yet so dark stared deeply into his own; he could not bring himself to listen to that quietly urgent part of him.
Rukia cupped the side of his face in tenderness, "again." She murmured.
He slid her down and within a few heated, quiet moments of passion they became one once more.
(*)*)*)
"Curious though I find it, Sosuke.." Gin stood a little behind Aizen's chair as always. Never a leader, only a follower; the silver-haired Shinigami's attention was fixated on that of the Espada, but his question was posed to the man seated.
"Curious, Gin?" Aizen murmured, coffee brown eyes reflected pale blue light from the great screen. "Of what process?"
He realized his mistake, chuckling quietly under his breath. It echoed in the silent room. "Your preoccupation- say, with 'Kyorra-kun and not the resulting effect on Rukia-chan."
Aizen propped one hand beneath his chin, the play of light over his face creating deep valleys of shadow along the angles of his countenance. "Ah, I see..so that is where your assumptions lie, Gin. It is...a- mistake, to believe that Kuchiki Rukia could capture my interest. She is..an interesting specimen, as you yourself possess a certain fascination for more than her redoubtable charms."
Gin had the grace for his grin to become a smirking half moon; "but, you did say-"
"However," his superior's tone remained light, friendly with just an edge of something else.
Gin knew it was unnamable. It was what inspired an adulating mix of fear and respect amongst the Arrancar. He waited in silence, gaze no longer upturned to the pale Espada engaged in intercourse. That did not mean, he wasn't fascinated- as his superior had pointed out oh-so delicately, with little Rukia's expressions.
Her gasps..simply titillated him!
More, so, Gin reflected with a tiny smirk; it aroused him to an even greater degree to watch her little breasts jiggle, her tiny, perfect body arch as she bounced up and down on the Arrancar's cock.
"..It is Ulquiorra." Aizen all but purred, stroking the keypad console with an elegant sweep of his fingertips. A noise of disappointment surged in Gin's throat as the camera feed cut off from the couple and in its place displayed a feed from the hallway leading to a set of rooms, one of which they were in now.
Time was meaningless to the denizens of the moonlit world; but Gin knew the time as one week before. His silver brow quirked as he glanced questioningly to his superior. A slight, satisfied smirk tugged on the ends of Aizen's mouth yet he gave nothing away as to what they were viewing.
The sound feed was silent for a few seconds in, then gradually a soft sound echoed in the frame's playback. Footsteps- Gin assumed, seeing nothing at first, then the camera angle shifted and the straight, slim back of the Cuatro Espada came into view.
Coattails fluttered with the efficient pace of his stride.
"'Kyorra-kun." Gin murmured, on the verge of waving his hand in a dismissive gesture.
Aizen silenced him with a look, "watch, Gin."
He did, smile slipping away with each increment of time passing on the switch of the cameras. He understood even less as Aizen leaned forward and with another keystroke, paused the feed, then the images flickered back to a few seconds before.
"Yes, however, physical damage did occur. It is merely-" Ulquiorra began, his expression inanimate, lacking emotion.
"Ulquiorra."
The Espada fell silent in acknowledgement of his Lord's position.
Gin saw the hint of a smile- the same smile Aizen wore then, on his face now; watching himself.
"Have you not done the same?"
The Espada answered tersely without a break in his monotone facade. "No."
Gin knew of Ulquiorra's denial; he himself had been there, hidden in the shadows. Yet the importance of the scene as it was replayed, failed to grasp him. What was it that Aizen placed so much stock in..?
"Ulquiorra..there is no difference between what you have done and what Gin has done in your mind."
The last sentence rang out, then Aizen stopped the replay, glancing to Gin to glimpse his reaction. "Well?" The Lord of Hueco Mundo prompted after a short silence had ensued. Gin felt he had to answer something - it was expected of him. "'Kyorra-kun denied it. What's so unusual about that?"
A shadow of dismay flickered across the older man's handsome face.
Gin guessed he had answered wrongly- once again.
"Oh, Gin. You still do not see it."
He didn't, but it was his place to act as the other's subordinate.
Just a smiling face..
"No, I don't, Aizen-sama." Gin admitted with a grin. "If you would care to share your brilliancy with me, then I am most obliged."
The man merely smiled, a touch of mockery glinting in the depths of his eyes. "Not yet, Gin."
The silver-haired Shinigami pouted, "why not? That's not fair, Aizen-sama!"
"Hush, Gin." Aizen commanded with no less authority then he had begun with. He tapped a key and the screen changed back to the aftermath in the ward within the Octava's lab. "It is..almost over."
Gin wondered at the enigmatic words, even as he watched thin white fingers trail through delicate raven strands in an unmistakable gesture of tenderness...
(*)*)*)Seireitei(*)*)*)
"Would you please stop that, Kurosaki."
It wasn't an order.
Ichigo stopped tapping the edge of the scroll on his thigh long enough for the sound of Hitsugaya's pen nib to begin scratching the parchment again, before he resumed the nervous tikking.
After a long moment, a sigh filled the air, and Hitsugaya's brusque if not civil tones came from the desk behind the sofa where the orange-haired Shinigami sat.
"I cannot stress this enough, Kurosaki. You must not-"
"-Not get excited or charge recklessly out because it will ruin our plan." Ichigo finished, rolling his amber eyes to the wooden cross-beam ceiling. He could just feel the Captain's weighted disapproval. It laced Hitsugaya's voice, "your plan. Keep it straight, Kurosaki." The sound of papers being rifled together momentarily followed. "I'm not assisting you out of any sort of-"
"Oh, just shut it, Toshiro!" Ichigo complained, slamming his fist down on the coffee table that kept brushing his knees. The tea Matsumoto had made two hours before, rattled in the delicate green pot. It was untouched. Hitsugaya's sigh was even more pronounced yet the boy made no comment.
He understood- in part, Ichigo wanted to believe. Which lead the sub to remark, half-turning his face to the direction closest to the other, "even you think it's a load of crap that was fed to everyone. That's why-"
The sound of a drawer slamming shut effectively cut off anything else Ichigo might've said.
"...What I think..." Hitsugaya's measured voice came after another long moment of contemplation. "..And what I believe..are two very different things. Do not presume to know my views, Kurosaki. We are not friends."
"Toshiro..." The Shinigami sub murmured, his fingers tightening minutely around the scroll giving the official order of Seireitei's wartime status.
The sound of a chair scraping back then being pushed back in was heard as muffled footsteps crossed the room. Ichigo looked up expectantly and met Hitsugaya's tired, somewhat sad turquoise eyes. The Tensai held his gaze, as he spoke. "In this world, it isn't your beliefs which hold greater merit. It is your actions done for the good of mankind which are of the greatest worth."
Ichigo sucked in breath to challenge Hitsugaya's words, but a single look stopped him.
Reluctantly, he deflated; he had been learning patience. Hard-won yet necessary as Soi Fong's goons lingered everywhere. Hitsugaya's hand seemed small, child-like as it extended in the space between them. Ichigo, in the back of his mind sometimes wondered how a child could've taken on such an important post. Then, he remembered the other's power, and knew he could respect him for it.
"..This may be hard for you to understand, Kurosaki." Hitsugaya began quietly. "But, Kuchiki Rukia is one soul. One being among thousands-"
"But-" Ichigo started to say, determination prickling from the depths of his soul to prove the white-haired boy Captain wrong. Hitsugaya shook his head tersely, "You will not abandon her despite the belief to the contrary of her demise. That..." he seemed to hesitate, to find it difficult to go on. Ichigo's amber eyes searched the younger boy's face, for once he stayed silent.
"..Your..loyalty...that is what makes you.. inimitable."
Ichigo didn't understand exactly what the other was getting at, yet he did understand the hand that fell on his shoulder, the weight light yet firm all the same. He smirked- cockily, to which a single white brow rose slightly higher at.
"Oh, I get it. That's why you'll be helping me..."
Turquoise eyes flickered to the ceiling, "now, you are just full of it." Hitsugaya let his hand fall away, he stepped back and Ichigo stood, rising to his full height.
"Aw, c'mon, Toshiro!" The sub flashed a rare grin, "loosen up, will ya! Just admit it...we're friends..and that's why you're going to help me."
Hitsugaya stalked to the door, his face averted. "I will not stoop to say such a thing, Kurosaki." His hand lifted and rested inches above the sliding panel, "however, I will deign to ask- since you are hovering around with nothing better to do...would you like to go a few rounds with me?"
Ichigo grinned like an idiot at the other's back, "sure, Toshiro. Since we're such good friends and all..."
Hitsugaya said nothing more to that, except to call over his shoulder, "it's Captain Hitsugaya to you!" But, there was a hint of a smile in his usual curt tones.
(*)*)*)
"Captain Hitsugaya is supervising Kurosaki at present." Soi Fong said, her hands clasped tightly at the small of her back. Many wrinkles stood out on the high-domed forehead of the elderly man seated behind the large desk. Indeed the man had weathered many winters, overseen the orderly destruction and chaos caused by a single command. He rested his hands atop a sheet of parchment, spread-out for his perusal.
"Do you find fault with Captain Hitsugaya's abilities, Captain Soi Fong?" Yamamoto questioned.
The slim woman angled her embarrassed glance away. That her doubts had been perceived through her composed, stoic exterior... "It is just.." Soi Fong haltingly began, cursing her inarticulate tongue at the moment.
"Speak! I will not tolerate gathering dissension amongst you." Yamamoto's voice boomed in the wide, open-aired room. Soi Fong inwardly shook yet affixed her emotionless onyx eyes on the man's countenance, "it is merely Captain Hitsugaya's prior connections to the Ryoka boy that have sown a seed of distrust in my mind." She searched his expression for any sign that her words had registered as a viable threat in the old man's consciousness.
Soi Fong continued delicately after a long moment, "after all...it is the bonds of camaraderie that weaken even the greatest of us."
Yamamoto leaned back, the sound of his weight shifting in the wooden chair broke the silence. A creak from beyond the Shoji doors in the polished hallway outside was Sasakibe, guarding the office so that none would disturb them. Soi Fong waited in abated breath, remaining motionless even as the old man rose, slightly hunched until his gnarled hand had grasped a hold of the curved cane that hid his Zanpaku-to within.
The only sound then was of his shuffling steps and the thud of his cane dragging along the floor. Once he had reached his destination, Yamamoto paused on the balcony overlooking the walled city, his back to the Shinobi commander.
He never directed beyond what was absolutely necessary, every thought, every action was of consequence. Along with the others whom held him in high regard, Soi Fong believed his opinion on her thoughts would either give her peace or duty to carry out. She hadn't long until the decision was spoken.
"Increase the guard around Kurosaki Ichigo."
She bowed quickly, "yes, si-"
His tone was sharp. "-Above all, do not arouse Captain Hitsugaya's suspicions. He is still a respected member of the Gotei thirteen."
The Shinobi commander's hands tightened momentarily, her expression revealed none of her displeasure. "Of course."
Yamamoto nodded briskly once. "You are dismissed, Captain Soi Fong."
Soi Fong completed her bow and left in a flurry of white haori.
She would give the order immediately...the Ryoka boy was not to leave their sights.
(*)*)*)
..How little time they had to prepare. Yoruichi's thoughts ranged over the subject which had Kisuke preoccupied back in the living world. She had left him for a day or two, choosing the warm sunshine of the fields around the Rukon districts rather than the beginnings of winter in the small town of Karakura.
In the distance, Kukaku's shouts about lazy bums, had a smile curling the edges of the black cat's feline mouth. Shiba Kukaku was a good friend...but, this was one time...it would be best not to involve her in. Yoruichi reflected with soft, sad cat's sigh.
She had gone against Seireitei in the past.
Defying everything without care.
So, why..?
She couldn't fathom why this time..it felt different. In the back of her mind it was there, a persistent gnawing that ate away at her confidence. Something was coming..something was..
A particularly loud boom startled her, a torrent of curses was aimed at poor Ganju's head.
Yoruichi chuckled in her mind. Closing her golden-green eyes to the warmth of the day and the smell of grass- now burnt, rising in the air.
Wrong.
(*)*)*)
It was a mystery to some, why Hitsugaya had never requested another Lieutenant.
Matsumoto was everything he wasn't.
She was aware of the sharp difference between them..every day.
But, on this day..
Seeing Kurosaki in Tenth's office...she had needed more than an excuse of shopping to control her emotions.
In the privacy of her room, she withdrew a box from a small carved chest near her bedroll. Her eyes were focused on the task at hand, yet her ears were pricked for any small sound of movement on the veranda. She had requested of Tenth's patrolling officers that she wasn't to be disturbed for half an hour or so. They had complied easily, yet Matsumoto was aware of the Shinobi lurking just outside Tenth's compound.
Couldn't they leave Ichigo alone for even a...
Her pale blue eyes closed. The purple knot had been undone by her deft fingers and the contents of the small box lay open for all the world to see.
"Orihime-chan."
A photograph was inside.
Her friend was a traitor to everyone. Matsumoto didn't believe it- wouldn't. Somewhere in her heart, she hoped that her Captain didn't either..but. What was there to do even if he believed as she did?
Her fingers ran over the glossy surface of the smiling orange-haired girl captured in that single instant.
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
"Orihime-chan...be safe."
(*)*)*)Las Noches(*)*)*)
The walls were soundproof. Szayel had insisted upon it, when construction of his lab began. Now, he idly lifted his head, turning slightly on the barstool to peer curiously in the direction of the hallway.
Certain rooms were also reiatsu-proof. Made to breakdown and suppress the known attributes of an enemy's bankai. Kuchiki Rukia's was no such room. It was a room. Just that. Szayel could feel then his comrade's reiatsu spilling outward. Erratic, barely uncontrolled.
He wondered if a warning was in order.
Likely the amount wasn't enough to cause structural damage, the nature of the energy different than what a Segunda Etapa entailed. Yet spiraling with it...was the Shinigami's thread. Szayel stretched out a hand in the air, the tips of his fingers instantly growing numb with chill.
Her reiatsu was most interesting.
Cold like snow.
Szayel withdrew his hand, pushing up the frames of his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. "Lumina!" he called sharply. Soon enough the Fraccion appeared, waddling in through the opposite doorway.
"Lord Szayel?" His creation questioned.
Knowing it was of limited intelligence, he kept the order short, brusque. "Retrieve Kuchiki Rukia's Zanpaku-to and bring it here to me." He waved his hand dismissively and the Fraccion nodded stupidly, bowing in one clumsy movement.
"Right away, Lord Szayel!" Lumina chirruped then bounded back down one of the long maze-like corridors. Satisfied that his directive would be carried out; Szayel rose, preparing to gather all the necessary accoutrements.
It was most unusual that the quality of Kuchiki Rukia's reiatsu was changing.
Evolving - he hesitated to assume, as only tests performed on her sealed Zanpaku-to would glean conclusive results. He had not placed much emphasis on Shinigami-Arrancar relations previously, the effect on both would be of great interest indeed...
-TBC
AN: I beg pardon. But, I am NOT a guy.
-Just wanted to get that out there.
Thank you for reading.
No flames!
Reviews are appreciated :)