Lumina was in her face. Or was it Verona? No, Lumina had black pigtails. Rukia frowned, stretching her hand out to push the round Arrancar away. "Kuchiki-san is awake! Kuchiki-san is awake!" Cried the easily exciteable fraccion; Szayel entered from the opposite doorway, clipboard in hand. "So, she is." He murmured, running his gaze over her body. During the six-hour observation period, she had scarcely moved. The sheet lay flat, smooth over the slim outlines of her petite body. Rukia scowled at his intense scrutiny of her. She hadn't expected to awaken alone. His absence felt almost a wound, she likened the emptiness that closed around her searching fingertips to the loss of her Zanpaku-to.
She scowled at her thoughts, pushing her upper body into a sitting position.
"Where is –" it was on the tip of her tongue to ask for him. At the same moment, the contrary desire to rip her tongue out with hot tongs presented itself in her mind. "My sword?" She finished lamely, pushing the blankets aside. Lumina had disappeared with a bounding run through the doorway. Szayel watched her silently for a few moments longer, seeming to compose his thoughts. "Lumina is retrieving it along with garments. If you wish to shower...," a faint smile. "You're aware of where the facilities are."
She nodded slipping off the bed to the cold floor, barefoot. She could sense the scientist wanted to say more, something bothered him, his frequent glances to the clipboard were enough to make her want to yank it from his hands and see what all the fuss was about – but she held back.
"Thank you." She went past him, one hand wandering to her abdomen where the cloth press tingled with healing energy. "Kuchiki...," The pink-haired Arrancar had turned toward her. "Yes?" There was something present in his face that she hesitated to name.
"I'll have Lumina leave your things outside the bathhouse door."
The scene played through her mind, looping for her careful analyzation of fault, flaws.
The sword in her hand vibrating with power.
Distraction.
She had let him talk, listening because she'd been curious.
The green-hilted sword in his hand, drawn casually, indifferently as one hand had remained in his pocket. He hadn't needed more than one to bring her to her knees. Beneath the water, her body reacted, flinching with memory. She had removed the outer gauze padding exposing the wound with a soft hiss. The slash had been minor, shallow. Not nearly equivocable to what he was capable of. She touched it with trembling fingertips, running along the edge from her left shoulder to the corner of her right hip.
Her blood soaked through the thin garments, splashing the ground; the look in his eyes as he stood over her. Had not been one of triumph. Like with all things concerning him she discovered to her annoyance that he continually defied logic. Irritated with herself, she punched the slick white wall of the shower stall then cradled her bruised knuckles to her chest, hissing. The door farther down from the curtainless expanse rattled; she stiffened. Lumina's hum faded. It was a silly thing the Arrancar had caught from her, the snatch of a song someone had sang to her.
The words long since rendered meaningless to her brought to mind another time. Morose with her thoughts, she resumed washing, rinsing with a quick full body splash then out into the cool air. Towel wrapped firmly around her body, she padded down the line of stalls to the doorway, opening it a crack. Sure enough, her Zanpaku-to resided atop a small pile of clothes. White hakama, a long-sleeve tunic with circular cutouts below the shoulder, black socks and sandals. Once semidressed, Szayel made a reappearance to bandage her wound once again. Rukia silently allowed his ministrations, surprised when the scientist hesitated. "I surmise you're going to him?"
"Yes. Where is he?"
"In his palace."
She fought off a snort after all she had been fairly comfortable in the sprawling set of rooms adjoining the Octava's lab.
"I trust you can find your way? Or...,"
She hopped off the bed, wincing slightly as she straightened.
"I don't need an escort unless you think I'll try to break out."
The scientist rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "That was the least of my concerns. I only referred to your safety...it is imperative for your well-being," he went on in a quieter voice. "And mine, that you arrive whole and unharmed."
She propped her hand on her hip, genuinely curious as to who had threatened his well-being when it concerned her. She could guess with a smirk playing on the ends of her lips as she watched the scientist deliberate coming to the only viable assurance that she would arrive unspoiled.
"Then, what do you propose?"
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it."
The scientist stared hard at her until she smirked.
"I'm not joking."
"Of course not."
Szayel flicked invisible dust from his immaculate uniform, almost offended at her flippancy. "I'd appreciate it as well if he refrained from continously bringing you in pieces for me to fix." Though it was unseemly for him to chastise a superior, she knew he meant well. Wisely, she made no promises. The scientist grumbled softly under his breath, casting a glance at the door he had deposited her at. A steady reiatsu pulsed behind it, one that had given little indication of his current mood.
"Take care," the Octava offered then he was simply gone.
She stood a moment longer gazing at the handle, wrapping her fingers around it she gave a firm tug. The panel revolved inward silently to a room of shadows. The edges of white furniture stood out from the gloom, a low table of oval shape, a thin rug and misshapen sofa with plump cushions reminded her vaguely of another she had seen. She nearly missed the slight bent form until the length of a crooked knee, the drape of fabric, the curve of his partial bone helmet came into sharp relief for her. He sat so still, bent forward, eyes closed as if in repose.
Rukia wondered if he was truly asleep. Even before she had wondered if he had merely feigned sleep or had required it the same as other spiritually sentient beings.
His eyes snapped open; the look in them startled her.
"What are you doing here?"
Briefly, she considered the possibility of anger. "I wanted to talk to you so I had Szayel bring me here."
"What of?"
"My training." She huffed as if it wasn't obvious.
He relaxed somewhat. "You are weak."
"Then, why did you agree to train me?"
"It was my Lord's command."
She crossed her arms over her chest, struggling to remain calm, untouched by her fast beating heart. "Yet you could've ended it." My suffering. My everything beneath your sword. For a moment she had been unguarded, letting him slip past her defenses. Foolish, perhaps, she had been injured for her efforts.
"...that would defeat his ultimate purpose."
"Which is?" She had backed him into a proverbial corner. Ulquiorra's gaze slitted and his mouth thinned in displeasure. "Your turning on your supposed allies. Your usefulness gauged by my hand, your further existence ensured by loyalty. You're meant to take the place of the Espada killed by your sword." He had never spoken so many words before and the import blew her away. The audacity of the man who had raised himself above the Hollow world as a veritable King to presume to hold her life in the balance with her loyalty? Rukia's first instincts were to spit in his face, then she held back remembering that the Cuatro was merely a messenger and she had asked...rather than be left alone in the dark, he had answered.
"But, you know...," she shook her head violently. As violent a refusal as ever came to her lips. "That I'd rather die than betray my friends." You know. I can see it in your eyes. Rukia stared hard, challenging the Espada to dare to contradict her, but as with everything, he had remained perfectly rational, unperturbed by her declaration.
He was perfect and she despised him for it.
"That can be arranged," Ulquiorra said tonelessly, lifting his gaze to her face. "Painless, a forever sleep. You won't feel a thing." She thought of the pain she felt on the receiving end of his blade, the faintest connection with it that had drawn her in, made her careless. No matter how close they had been between the sheets, she drew the line of loyalty and where it lay.
"Is that a promise?"
"I don't make promises."
"I know," and the words made her smile faintly. "No attempt at converting...nothing but duty."
He regarded her with the same look he had given her once when threatening to force feed her. Once when he stood in her cell, hands in pockets, observing her misery, taking nothing from it but a reflection on the hideousness of war. She was forever challenging his assumptions about her. "No illusions."
"None. How long do I have?" She asked as calmly as she had when facing death on Sokyoku Hill.
"Eight days."
In that moment, she thought of her friends, everything she hadn't said or wished she could take back. The people she wanted to slap, the products she wouldn't buy from Urahara, the pictures she'd never draw...Lumina and Verona making a mess in Szayel's lab. The latter brought warmth into her cold chest. She'd miss those two, never had she met a pair of more enthusiastic Arrancar, and so easy to draw. Then, because to do nothing with her time felt a waste, she gestured empty-handed.
"Shall we resume my training?"
She was none so pitiful now.
He had thought to enlighten her as to Aizen's commands, knowing he had possibly betrayed an order that he hadn't been commanded to remain silent on. Rukia had asked a fair question one that the answer though unpleasant, required answering.
However, she hadn't reacted with the venom he had expected, but in a calm and detached manner as one who had seen much death. Likely she had. After facing it on numerous occasions, she had grown insensate to the threat or didn't care either way. He thought this was very much like her, taking the length of days remaining to her in stride.
"Yes." He surprised himself with almost eagerness to once again face her on the field. She had blown away his previous suppositions on other occasions. In this, he was almost certain she had yet to reveal her full potential, despite his words to her on the contrary.
Bearing her sword at her side; Rukia walked with purpose, hardly betraying the fact that her wound hurt her. That bespoke of pride, one that he could verify. The wound was laced with his reiatsu, imparted by the graze of Murcielago; he could sense it in her flesh...deeper. Almost...interlaced with her own. His pesquisa told him as much, the readouts confusing. He shouldn't have been able to detect anything else inside her other than her own energy
Ulquiorra walked slightly ahead of her, close to leading without the need for words or restraint. Now she would follow without question, at least for the time being. He thought the change for the better, far more pleasant than her continuous questioning. In that way she had reminded him of Inoue.
All too soon, their brief walk ended. The code he placed into the keypad slid the double doors apart allowing admittance into the empty, echoing chamber. True to form, the various Arrancar and Espada within Las Noches kept to themselves rather than associate with lower forms of life. As before, he took up place across from her; the doors sealed to entry but themselves, locking them within.
"Release your sword."
She bit her lip, the gesture distracting in itself. How quaint. She thought to refuse. Rukia straightened, taking a firm grasp of the hilt. His eyes narrowed upon her look of sudden concentration. Interestingly, enough he had thought she would refuse.
"Who killed Orihime?"
"A pair of Arrancar, twins." The knowledge was superficial. No one had cared whether the human had lived or died once her purpose had been served.
"What are their names?"
"Loly and Menoly. Why do you ask?"
"Because names are important." Rukia said simply, her reiatsu spiraled around, fanning out into icy tongues that lapped at the edges of his grittier reiatsu evoking the tiniest of shudders in his body. "They can distinguish friend or foe." Names are identity as well. Little did he know, the knowledge seethed beneath her skin, becoming as devastating plan for revenge as befitting the cruelty of a soulless being.
"What're you going to do with this information?"
"I don't know yet." She admitted softly, her exhalation white. In her heart she had marked them as names belonging to creatures of destruction, a demise she would wholeheartedly guide with her hand given half the chance. Instead of distract her further, he subsided into silence watching her soft intonation as the sword revolved counterclockwise, intensifying the subtle dance of chills across his face. The subtlest of sighs as ice kissed his white cheek and red striped the floor in a curved arc.
Carefully, controlled, Rukia stopped further motion, her sword still held sideways, the flutter of the ribbon trailed through her shadow. Though, she said nothing, he admired the grace of her step, the silence of a snowflake's descent to the ground that she had so closely mimicked. Blood tainted a fine smear across the reflective surface of the sword.
Ulquiorra's eyes widened a fraction. He lifted his hand toward his face, slipping it from his pocket to graze where her sword had cut him. He was aware of the stinging of pain, the caress of subzero frost expanded by his chest as the winter air thickened. This was a dance, he thought, suddenly enlightened as to her inner grace. Where the other trash had pounded the earth with their steps, she danced through battle, rarely discarding her elegance for brutality.
Red came away on his fingertips.
Rukia straightened, changing her grip to one of a defensive position.
"I could've have frozen you where you stood before you had even realized you were cut."
Her field of power was visible to his eyes for a moment, flaring brightly against the darkness of true despair. She had passed so closely to him that they had touched, darkness and light. Even then he had felt their connection strengthen, never subduing the other but rather a culmination, a finality to each other. It was ...interesting.
"I am not weak."
"Have we got anything?"
"No."
"We're running out of time."
"What do you want me to do, Kurosaki?"
A sigh, the shuffling of paper. They'd spent more evenings then not indoors. Hitsugaya got up from his desk and began a lower level Bakudo spell around the door and windows of the small office, chanting under his breath. The words themselves were incomprehensible to Ichigo, but their import was enough to make him grin. The young captain had woven a silence charm around them; hushing the ears of the guards who haunted their steps. The kido had been kept purposefully light in order to dissuade suspicion if felt.
"So, what's up, 'shiro?"
Hitsugaya looked from his handiwork to the orange-haired boy sprawled on the sofa where Matsumoto had so often lain. Annoyance ticked his cheek, for the sake of argument, he kept from refraining from his usual bite. "In two days time, one of the Nobles from the four great houses will be passing through to their compound to the east of here. I received word this morning that part of Tenth and Sixth will be utilized as part of their vanguard to ensure their safety."
"Then...," he straightened from his slouching position, mind running over all the possibilities entailed by such a move. Turquoise green eyes observed him narrowly, but his scowl softened. "The Onmitsukido were requested as personal escorts. I am certain you see where the opportunity lies."
- TBC
AN: Sorry for the wait. I've already written up a rough plot outline so I know where the story's headed now. Thanks as well to MariaRuiz122591for the image used as the cover.
Thanks for reading :) please review.