Author's Note:

What happens in this section is the inspiration for Libélula. I can hardly contain my excitement in finally publishing this chapter. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time out of their busy schedules to read. It's made the whole thing worth it.

Edit: It has come to my attention that some people are indeed skipping the previous chapter, entitled "Faze". It is extremely short, but it also has some information about Orihime's decision.


After

For the second time since her arrival in Hueco Mundo, Orihime awoke to clanging. Rubbing her eyes, she realized that for whatever reason, she felt strikingly weak. She looked towards the door for Ulquiorra. He was not there. She tried lifting her body from the couch to turn to the window. It took great effort for her to do this. Thinking that she was still groggy from sleep, she finally lifted her head high enough to face the window. Startled, she saw Ulquiorra standing in front of it—it was odd to see him standing in such a place. He was staring at her, but there was something different about his expression. She couldn't place it—it was something between curiosity and amusement.

She collapsed onto the couch. I can barely move! What's wrong with me? She tried lifting her body, but couldn't. "I-I can't get up!"

Ulquiorra walked around to the couch and stood looking down at her. "Try to move your legs."

She tried to do so. I can't! She started to panic. "They're like lead! What's wrong with me?" She looked up at him helplessly, thankful that she could at least move her head.

"It is just as I thought."

"What happened? Did you do this?" She suddenly remembered their conversation the previous day. She gave him a fierce look.

"That would be ridiculous, and a waste of my time."

"Then what's wrong with me?"

"Can you move your arms?"

She wiggled her arm. She was able to move it quite freely. "Yes!"

"Then you can eat."

Ugh! "What's wrong with my legs!"

"It was a mere mishandling on the part of another hollow in the servant's quarters. He has been disposed of. I will explain when the matter has been investigated more fully. For now, you must eat. I have very important matters to attend to, and I cannot be tied down with you any longer."

"How am I going to reach the food?"

Ulquiorra looked at the servant, who proceeded to walk over to the table and pull it to where Orihime was seated.

"Oh," Orihime replied. "Thank you."

Orihime began eating, but it was very difficult. Though she could move her arms, they felt weak, and she had problems keeping the fork steady in her hands. Ulquiorra watched her struggle with her food for several minutes. He walked over to the couch and sat on the edge opposite from her. He looked bored, as though he was tired of standing. Orihime was just about to take another bite, but out of shock from watching him sit, her mouth draped open. Her food hung midair on the tip of her eating utensils. She looked at him wide-eyed for a few seconds before she slowly popped the food into her mouth. It was very awkward sitting next to him, particularly because there was a very subtle inconsistency about his behavior. She had never seen him act so informally. She stared at him, her conspicuous astonishment plastered all over her face. She kept looking back at him as she struggled to eat. Her obvious bewilderment was starting to agitate him.

"If there is something the matter, speak on it."

"Sorry," she spoke, embarrassed.

After continuing to fight with her fork and plate for several moments, she decided to address him.

"It's just that you don't usually sit when you're here. It's a little weird, that's all."

"I have been waiting for you to wake for an hour. Now your eating is dragging. I wished to sit."

"You watched me sleep for an hour?" Her face flushed a pink tone.

"You were very deeply asleep. I tried to wake you, but could not. I could not leave the room until I was certain that you were not in a coma. Obviously, you are not."

"Oh."

Orihime continued to eat in silence. She noticed that the emptiness that had usually accompanied his presence was somehow fainter. She immediately looked at him, with her eyes squinted.

"There's something different about you today."

He looked at her with a very odd expression, mildly bewildered.

"There's something going on. I don't know what it is, but there's something different about you."

"You are delusional. Perhaps your inability to move your legs has clouded your sense perceptions."

"No. I can tell it's different because of the way you're—what's that?" She suddenly pointed at a very faint, yellow circle on Ulquiorra's chest. "Did you spill something on your clothes?"

Ulquiorra looked down at his chest and stood up. He placed his hand on where his hollow hole was hidden under his clothes.

And then, there was an abrupt shift in his expression, as if he had just realized something. He immediately withdrew his hand to his pocket and turned to walk towards the door, at his usual position. His expression melted back to its usual blank apathy, but it looked forced. "It is nothing. Continue eating. I am late for my next duty."

"I'm finished," she was tired of struggling and wanted him to leave. She was still irritable over what had happened the day before.

When he turned to leave, she suddenly shouted, "Oh, wait! Did you talk to Aizen-sama about making my decision?"

His back was to her, but he continued to talk. "Yes. I have told him about your present condition. He wishes for you to recover before you speak with him, as there is no way for you to reach his throne room. He is above coming here, and… I expect you do not wish to be carried."

She suddenly had an image of Ulquiorra carrying her across the hallways.

"Uh…no, that's not necessary. I'll wait."

"Quite."

He turned and left Orihime on the couch, massaging her legs.

Before

There was a bright, yellow-orange glow permeating throughout the room. It came from the woman. She lay on the couch, fast asleep, while a mysterious, black, dragonfly-creature hovered over her. As soon as he saw the insect, Ulquiorra knew what had happened.

These black dragonflies, called libélulas, resembled the black butterflies in soul society, but they served a much more sinister purpose. Much like little hollows, these creatures had the ability to suck reiatsu from their prey until they were dead. Their bite was lethal, and any hollow whose white hierro was not thick enough would fall prey to a very deep sleep. While the victims slept, the libélula would then draw out the reiatsu of these creatures, causing it to seep into the air around them, and thicken it so as to provide extra nourishment. If the reiatsu of the victim was strong enough, it would appear as a colored mist to other hollow. The dragonflies would then gorge themselves on the densified spiritual mist around their prey, often leaving the victim dead or severely handicapped. These dragonflies also served as excellent hollow food. They were convenient snacks most of the lower-level arrancar would eat to rejuvenate themselves if they were too lazy to go out and hunt for other hollow. The libélulas were one of Aizen-sama's inventions, and were extremely convenient to use in the training of new arrancars. Ulquiorra had never eaten one of these creatures—he considered them fit only for arrancar trash who were too lazy to hunt for their own food.

He surmised that this dragonfly had probably escaped from somewhere else in the palace, flew into her room, bit her, and began devouring her reiatstu as soon as it began permeating out of her body. It looked as though half of Orihime's reiatsu had been eaten. Its color was strongest near her skin, and got lighter and lighter the farther it spread from her body. The edges of her reiatsu had the appearance of being torn, as if something had slowly bitten it off like taffy. Most of the reiatsu in her lower body was gone, as if the creature was slowly working its way up from feet to face. It was greedily eating away her lifeforce, completely oblivious to the Espada in the room. In a flash, Ulquiorra teleported from the door to the dragonfly, grabbing it by the wings and startling it half to death. It wiggled furiously between his fingers, but its efforts were useless.

As Ulquiorra examined the black libélula, he noticed that it glowed an orange-yellow color. Curious, he thought. It has assumed even the color of this woman's reiatsu…I have never seen this happen with these creatures. Could this be because she is a live human, or because this is the power of her own reiatsu? In any case, this creature must be disposed of before it does any more damage.

The creature that held Orihime's reiatsu struggled desperately in Ulquiorra's right palm. The insect's body was unusually warm. Ulquiorra slowly closed his fist around the dragonfly to crush it dead. Within milliseconds, its life quickly succumbed to the force in his hand. Killing it was very easy. Yet, moments after his fingers enveloped the insect, he felt an odd sensation flow into his hand. He immediately opened his palm to see that the dragonfly was left in ashes, but the golden reiatsu had disappeared. He did not expect this. He glanced at Orihime. She was sleeping peacefully, with the yellow-orange color around her starting to fade. He looked down at his hand. It was still warm from the dragonfly's death.

And then, he felt a tingling sensation crawl up from his hand to his arm. He immediately pushed up his sleeve. There was a very faint golden glow traveling up his arm.

What…?

He could feel the odd sensation oozing up his arm and through his body. Perhaps I should not have crushed the fly. Has her reiatsu entered my system?

The servant came in just then, but he dismissed him. "The girl is not well. Come back when I instruct you."

"Yes, sir."

Ulquiorra followed the servant out. He walked around the palace halls and outside, moving his arm around. What is this odd sensation? I feel as though there has been a shift inside my body. He felt less cold, as though the warmth of the woman's soul had somehow raised his body temperature several degrees.

He walked back to his own quarters. There was a mirror there, standard in most rooms. The area surrounding the hole in his chest was now the warmest part of his body—he could literally feel it being several degrees hotter than the rest of him. He walked over to the mirror and unzipped the top of his garment. What he saw stunned him.

"Impossible."

But it was possible. The hole had shrunk. It was not a significant change, but he noticed it.

"This is not possible," he said again, mortified. "The girl's reiatsu has rejected part of my hole. How can this be? Perhaps the libélula's density capacity intensified the rate at which she could heal." Still, this is most extraordinary. If she does accept Aizen's proposal, her capabilities are certain to surpass even mine.

There was a yellow-orange ring glowing around the new flesh. He felt it. It was very warm. "I wonder if this will last. No matter. It is hardly noticeable."

But it bothered him.

.oOo.

He rarely spent time in his own quarters, but he needed to contemplate the matter at hand. Orihime was practically half-dead on the couch in her room, and she had become this way under his watch. He knew that it would take at least a week before all of her reiatsu recovered on its own. He stood, rubbing the shrunken hole in his chest and contemplated the woman. "Aizen must be notified immediately."

He zipped up his garment and walked out of his own quarters. He felt a twinge of uneasiness as he got closer and closer to Aizen's quarters. Odd, he thought.

As he approached Aizen's throne room, he could feel the uneasiness shifting inside his stomach. How distracting. How am I to go about my work?

.oOo.

"Ulquiorra, what news do you have today?" Aizen called out from his seat.

"There is some unfortunate news about the girl, sir."

"Oh?"

"Yes." Ulquiorra paused. He felt a twinge of anxiety. "One of the libélulas escaped, and the girl fell victim to its bite. She is currently unconscious. I expect it will take a week for her reiatsu to fully recover and that she will be unable to fully move her legs until that time."

"This is unfortunate. And what of the libélula?"

"It has been disposed of."

"Very well."

"She has also informed me that she has made her decision."

"So soon?"

"Yes, though she refused to tell me what it was. She was upset with me at the time."

"Really? For what?"

"I merely called attention to the fact that her brother is dead. Afterwards, she stomped around and soon claimed to have made her decision. She then refused to tell me what it was. I suspect she was trying to irritate me."

Aizen chuckled. "It seems you have had an effect on this woman, Ulquiorra. She is playing into our plans perfectly. Perhaps you should you should charm her. She may be more apt to accept my help willingly if she thinks she has an ally."

Ulquiorra's eyes widened slightly. Ridiculous! But he felt the circle in his chest grow warmer. "With all due respect, sir, your humor is radical."

Aizen chuckled again. He reclined backwards and rested his head on his fist. "Very well. Give her a week to recover. There are other matters to be addressed in the meantime."

"Yes, sir."

"And Ulquiorra?" Aizen paused.

"Don't let this happen again," he warned. Aizen's eyes flashed a very subtle, imposing glance. "You are dismissed."

.oOo.

Ulquiorra left Aizen and reflected on what had occurred in Orihime's chambers earlier. He unzipped the top of his garment again to see whether the circle was still there. It was. How long will this last? To have to deal with this on the brink of a war is most inconvenient. I hope this does not affect my abilities. He stopped in the realization of what was just insinuated.

I hope…?

He immediately dismissed it.

What a useless concept.

But it bothered him.

.oOo.

He walked to Orihime's room and opened the door. She still lay sleeping on the couch. Her mouth was slightly open and her breathing was very deep. He walked over to where she lay and stood over her, contemplating whether or not she would awaken on her own. He took his right hand, and with four fingers he nudged her shoulder. She stirred. He let out a huff.

I do not have time to trouble myself with this, he thought irritably.

He looked at the woman again, distractedly. Her skin was very smooth, and her hair a very animated color. It contradicted the plain, black-and-white uniform Aizen had chosen, which he could not contest fit her exquisitely. He wondered how the dynamics of the Espada would change should she choose to transform her abilities. She would be a unique addition to Aizen's army, for her offensive capabilities would not be tied to a zanpakuto. This would confuse any enemy used to fighting in this style. Her rejection capacities would also prove to be infinitely useful. Multiple comrades would be healed simultaneously in seconds, with her abilities.

Unsurprisingly, Aizen has chosen wisely.

The sound of her breathing was rhythmic.

The main problem involves her ties to her comrades. Her feelings for Ichigo Kurosaki are particularly inconvenient. Why does she continue to follow after him when he displays such obvious apathy for her? His eyes lingered absentmindedly on her face, then dwelled again on the stark contrast of her hair and the rest of the room. Her addition to Las Noches would be just as antithetical.

He prodded her shoulder once more. She did not move.

He walked over to the window and decided to wait for her to awaken. If she did not, Aizen would need to be notified once more.

He patiently watched her from the window, debating whether he should order the servant not to come. But the woman needed to eat, and he would not refuse her the nutrition required for her to remain functional. The warmth in his chest persisted. He could sense that there was something in him that had reacted to the reiatsu, but could not properly analyze what it was. In any event, there is no reason to dwell on the matter.

After

Orihime finally woke to the clanging of the silverware. Ulquiorra watched her carefully as she slowly realized what was wrong with her body. She blamed him, but he dismissed the idea immediately. After the servant dragged the table closer to her, he watched her struggle with her food.

And then, the thought.

At first, he dismissed it, but witnessing her struggle with her meal reinforced his intuitions. I am responsible for what has happened. This was true; the idea crawled around in his mind, and he could not deny that she had been incapacitated under his supervision. Her question rang in his mind, "Did you do this?" He denied it, but ultimately he was responsible, and he found it odd that he was dwelling on this fact. He could feel the circle in his chest grow warmer as he reflected.

He could stand for hours, but watching the woman attempt to feed herself incited a very subtle impulse to observe her actions more closely. Out of curiosity, he decided to see what would happen if he reacted to the impulse. He slowly walked over to the couch and sat. Her expressions annoyed him.

"If there is something the matter, speak on it," he stated.

But the answer to this was obvious. His casualness was an oddity, and she had noticed it immediately. Sitting next to her and dialoguing with her from a different position in the room was uncharacteristic of him.

He remained disinterested until she pointed out the blaring circle in his chest.

Realization dawned on him as soon as she lifted her finger. The motivations, the curiosity, the dialogue, and the apprehension with Aizen.

Could it have been guilt? It was very faint, but it explained his actions. Something outside of the realm of his control had explained his actions. It had led him to watch her. It led him to sit next to her. It led him to extract a conversation from her. He placed his hand over his hole.

Are the differences in my actions due to this? His expression changed. I refuse this.

He aggressively forced the new incentives imposed on him to an inaccessible place in his mind, but even this reaction indicated that he was still responding. This is inconceivable. He shoved his hand into his pocket, as if to shove away the implications of what he had just realized.

Orihime finished eating soon afterward. After speaking with her about her recovery, he turned to leave. The last image he had of her before he closed the door was the strain on her face and her feeble attempts to nurse the deadness in her legs.