Orihime awoke to find herself in the vacant wilderness of Hueco Mundo. She scanned her eyes across the sands, spotting Las Noches in the distance. The desert stretched its long, arid fingers much farther out than usual, it seemed.
Weird… someone must have carried me out, she thought. She turned her head from left to right, subconsciously searching for something. She found it upon turning to face the Espada standing several meters behind her.
Orihime drew her eyes to the ground, still embarrassed from the events of two days past.
"Why do you continuously avoid me, Orihime?"
The woman looked up, taken aback by the oddity of having heard her name escape his lips so informally. The Espada's voice carried none of its usual coolness, and his eyes implied the same; she distinctly heard earnestness in his question, as though he was genuinely bothered by her behavior.
"I-I don't know."
"You don't know?" he answered skeptically, pressuring her for a different answer.
"I think I've made it obvious why I don't look at you…" her voice trailed off.
"So you do have feelings for me."
Orihime's only reply was to divert her eyes from him.
"What if I told you that my own opinions of you are reciprocated?"
Her head snapped up.
"That's…? U-Ulquiorra…"
His footsteps purposefully padded across the sand towards her.
"Please, I know you can't possiblyfeel the same way," she argued stubbornly.
He was getting closer.
"This isn't funny," she pleaded, taking a few steps backward. Her hair bounced lightly as she shook her head.
Plop, plop, plop, went his feet.
Pump, pump, pump, went her heart.
"Don't make this harder than it already is, please," she whispered desperately, her disbelief warring against the desire to accept his words.
He ignored her. His face was calm and determined, his eyes conveying something she never thought she would ever see.
Oh, God…this can't be real…
She clenched her fists in protest.
Please let this be real…
She was not accustomed to anyone looking at her in such a manner. His face was tilted slightly downwards, and his eyes were thirsty. He was not looking at her as Orihime the subordinate.
She was Orihime, the woman.
He finally closed the distance between them, drawing his hand to the bottom of her chin.
Her heart screamed, pounded. She frantically jetted her eyes to the side, but the temptation to switch them back was too remarkable to resist.
Oh, he wasn't playing around. He made his goal abundantly clear as he inched towards her in steady conquest.
Orihime closed her eyes in hungry defeat. What else could she do but give in?
Forgive me…
-o-
Noisy clanging roused her from her dream.
Orihime slowly stirred on the blue sofa, wiping the sleep from her eyes.
She had slept through the usual routine of knock-and-enter, coming to the realization that Ulquiorra had probably come in with the servant a while ago. She glared at the table. Of course it was just a dream, she thought miserably.
Orihime saw her dream-man standing before her, with an odd look on his face. Still humiliated from their embrace, Orihime thought it best to simply ignore him. Thankful that he could not read her mind, she ate in silence, mulling over her dream and feeling stupid for having had it.
.oOo.
Ulquiorra heard his name escape her lips, there was no doubt about that—she was dreaming about him. As she slept, her expression was very calm.
It was happy.
She did not respond to the knocks on her door, so he let himself in to wake her. It was the servant who had eventually brought her out of slumber, rolling in with the trays a few moments after she had uttered Ulquiorra's name. Ulquiorra observed her intently after she woke, looking for any signs that might confirm his burning questions, but she was purposely avoiding his eyes. He thought maybe she had been dreaming about training, but the manner in which she had spoken of him and the way her face looked told him otherwise. Her tone was unabashedly tender. He was almost tempted to ask her about it but knew that this would be unwise. The woman was already unstable, and training today would prove to be cumbersome given past events.
The day before, Ulquiorra had requested for a break in her training in order to give her time to recover from her experience with his first resurrection form. He knew that she probably had taken this to mean that he was avoiding her. This was not entirely untrue. Her actions during their last encounter were unexpected, to say the least. He knew that the woman had reacted brashly, so he had eventually dismissed it, but upon hearing his name in her sleep, a new flurry of questions erupted in his mind.
"Follow me. We will begin your training as usual," he commanded after she had taken her final bite.
Orihime silently followed him out. They soon reached a spot far away from Las Noches, and he released his sword. Orihime bit her lip and forced herself to train. Looking at him was uncomfortable, but she knew she could bear it for a little while.
Her training soon ended; she quietly trudged beside him as they headed back, periodically stealing glances at him. The difference between the man in her dream and the man standing before her was extraordinary. This man was callous and uncaring, and it depressed her that he would never return her feelings. He was not like Ichigo, whom she had not entirely forgotten but by now was a fainter romantic memory. At least with Ichigo, she could trust in his kindness and his protection, and even though he would never feel the same way, he was still a good friend.
Ulquiorra would never be her friend, would never be anything to her other than a superior.
As he continued ignoring her throughout their journey back to her quarters, reality finally started to sink in. It was decided; she would simply have to force herself to stop feeling for this man. It could be done. She just had to think back to her love in the human world. She had purposely avoided thinking of Ichigo lately because of the guilt of her betrayal, but falling for a cold-hearted creature repulsed at the slightest hint of affection was far more demeaning.
.oOo.
From the beginning, Ulquiorra was not ignorant of the change in Orihime's behavior. In earlier circumstances, he might have classified what he observed in her as some form of dementia, but since her training had not regressed, it was not enough of a problem to draw relevant concern.
Though the woman's progress was steady, her attitude and approach to him had changed much more drastically than ever before. The effervescence he had come to know disappeared overnight, as though it had never existed. When he would go to ensure she was still eating, the life drained from her face the moment he stepped through her doorway. Her body recoiled defensively if ever he spoke, her countenance visibly dampened, and her voice turned noticeably more solemn.
Most of all, she grew fluent in silence—a queer reminiscence of her first days in Hueco Mundo, when her only words were the polite exchanges upon delivery of her meals. It did not take long before he realized that she did not act this way around Starrk and Lilynette. To more accurately assess the differences in her behavior, Ulquiorra approached Orihime's chambers very early one day and stood listening behind the door. He heard giggling and laughing, and the three of them appeared to be playing some kind of game with those ridiculous cards. After that, it was not uncommon to hear laughter in the hallways on the way to his own quarters.
She had not laughed around him in weeks; the only smiles she gave him now were those of civil gratitude. He had also noticed that even if she faced him, even if she was expressing her thanks, she refused to meet his gaze. She also ceased from looking at him while she ate.
The only thing that remained consistent was her training. There were several times where he sensed that she was hesitant to train, but the waver in her determination disappeared upon his release of reiatsu. At the culmination of her session, however, any emotion she had expressed dissipated back to her rather uncharacteristic indifference. She even stopped questioning him about the status of her progress.
He knew it had something to do with the girl's dream.
Ever since that day she had been different. Her behavior grew cold and much more aloof, as though she had resolved to distance herself. But why? What could possibly be the cause of the inconsistency? This question often rose up in his thoughts, but he was growing weary of the attention he was increasingly giving to it. She was like a logic game he was reluctant to evaluate; his nature was driving him to solve the problem, but his pride prevented him from taking the easiest route to enlightenment—direct inquiry.
That any of this affected him in the slightest was the most significant vexation of them all, and it was not something he immediately admitted to himself. He had to keep reminding himself that the woman's attitude towards him should be completely irrelevant to her proficiency. Even so, his attempts at brushing it off were repetitious at best and obsessive at worst, for her daily apathy towards him made it exceedingly impossible to avoid. Day after day, she continued defying him with her erratic behavior. Just when he thought he had mapped out the entirety of the causes and effects that motivated her actions, she veered from the formula. And he dared not bring up the issue with Aizen; all that mattered was her success, and in this area, she remained exceptionally undeviating.
But frankly, it was getting disrespectful. Every diverted glance, every refusal to take advantage of her outing opportunities—yes, she even occasionally avoided these— every clumsy attempt at noiseless cooperation fueled his exasperation with her. As her superior, he should not be ignored. Cutting off a professional relationship with him only served to sever ties, not strengthen them.
Ultimately, weeks and weeks of insufferable, irreverent silence drove him to satiate his curiosity. He finally decided on confronting her one evening, during her last meal.
Orihime finished her plate and rose from the table; she trod across the white floors and peered at the crescent moon suspended in perpetual black—a clear attempt to ignore him.
"Your behavior towards me has altered drastically, and I want to know the reason," came the patronizing voice from behind her. It had been many, many weeks since they had truly had spoken.
When she did not immediately respond, he asked again in a more authoritative tone, "What is the reason?"
It was fear that prevented Orihime from giving him a truthful answer. Avoiding him had been impossible. Forcing her thoughts to dwell on Ichigo had initially helped a little, but each time she stepped out into the vast white desert with the arrancar, her attempts at curbing her emotions miserably failed. Maintaining her composure upon gazing at him had proved to be exceedingly difficult, and she was literally forced to change her personality so as not to encourage her spiraling emotional attachment to him.
Be civil, not friendly.
This was the mantra she repeated to herself each time she was tempted to retreat to the silly behaviors of her past. She disallowed herself from celebrating her minor victories in reiatsu tolerance; she would save that for Lilynette and Starrk, the only solace she had left from her emotional prison. Orihime knew that any kind of sociable behavior—smiles, conversation, even her habitual glimpses at him—only served to bolster her feelings. Yet, these were the core of her personality! Was it really that essential to behave this way, completely censoring herself? She had not had to resort to this level of caution even with Kurosaki, so it startled her that she felt such a strong need to commit to altering herself so drastically. Even so, the lessons she had learned through Ichigo made her realize that restraint was necessary, and failure meant more pain and deepened emotional attachment.
Nevertheless, even with all of her efforts, Ulquiorra continued to consume her thoughts. The more she distanced herself in his presence, the more she dwelled on him in his absence, and it was absolutely exhausting her. She was running dry, and Ulquiorra had unknowingly picked one of Orihime's more difficult days to pose his question.
Why was he curious? Why, when he had been very clear about his apathy since before she had even stepped foot in Las Noches? If Lilynette was right, and if he really was hiding something, why was he allowed to conceal it, but not her? It was unfair and hypocritical.
And frankly, it was just plain disrespectful. He should just mind his own business. Wasn't it unwise for colleagues to get too chummy?
"Why does it matter to you?" she finally asked him, very weary of her situation. "My training hasn't regressed. And you obviously don't care to be around me. You would have had me killed me on the day we met, you said so yourself."
There was something very specific about the woman's words that incensed him.
"You're pathetic."
She turned towards him, sensing heat in his words.
"What?"
"You believe that training with me has merited some kind of partnership with you, and you are sulking because you foolishly believe that you have already earned that affiliation."
Orihime could not believe the venom he was spewing at her. It was his tone that surprised her the most. He had always been cold, but never mean. She felt the hot tears welling up behind her eyelids.
Ulquiorra noted the liquid salt in her eyes.
"How predictable."
"Why haven't I earned it?" she cried softly, unable to stand it any longer. "I've trained mercilessly with you every day, all because I want to survive. Isn't that what hollows do? Why shouldn't I have earned the right to be called your comrade? I've worked so hard to impress you, and having to face you every day…" but she stopped as soon as the words escaped her lips. She bit her lip and turned once more to the window.
He stood watching her back; she drew her sleeve to her face and wiped both of her cheeks. Though he had seen her cry before, this was the first time his words had directly been the cause of her tears.
"I know that you had a dream about me," he said, ignoring her last comment.
Orihime's heart skipped.
"Your behavior towards me has changed since that day."
She said nothing, hoping he would just leave. She had had many, many dreams about him lately. But the one he was talking about was surely the first one—the sweetest one, the one where he was kind, the one where he caressed her face with his eyes, the one where she awoke to find him in the room. How could he have known about that?
"Do not deny it. I heard you speaking my name as you slept. How could that possibly motivate you to change so radically?"
It was amazing how he could be so perceptive in some aspects, but so incredibly ignorant in others. For some time now Orihime had suspected that Ulquiorra knew at least something about her feelings. He was a very complex, very analytical man; his knowledge was both bountiful and shrewd, despite his lack of understanding about human will. She would be a fool to think that he suspected nothing. His question was thus riddled with hidden meaning, whether he recognized it or not. As for now, she was tired—so, so tired, of playing this game with him. Orihime had her own questions that needed to be answered. She turned back to face him.
"Why do you care, Ulquiorra?"
He looked at the confused woman standing before him for several moments. It was the exact question he had yet to answer.
He retorted by shifting the blame on her, "If you cannot answer me, then—"
"It's not that I can't," she cut him off. "I know the answer." She held her breath, bracing herself.
"I'm just surprised you haven't figured it out by now…seeing as to how you've come to know me so well." She gave him a sad smile.
A flood of staggering comprehension overtook him, striking all of his questions into silence. His eyes widened, incredulous with disbelief.
.oOo.
The woman's words rang like a monstrous gong in his ears. Ulquiorra left the room shortly after she had given him her answer. Her tears had stopped, but she stood in heavy dejection at the lack of his response. But what answer could he possibly give to such blatant foolishness? He thought that discovering what had been bothering her would put him at ease, but he was gravely mistaken. How could he possibly train her now, with her emotions so unstable—and so irrational? How could she possibly have developed any feelings for him whatsoever?
Perhaps he had misunderstood her?
No, he had heard her correctly. Until a few minutes ago, it had been far more convenient to simply dismiss his theories about her emotions, but now he was left without an excuse. It was not in his nature to exclude the most obvious of explanations, so perhaps it was time to get over this uncharacteristic denial of his and accept that this was an obstacle he would need to overcome.
He headed towards one of the open terraces near his room and drew his attention to the outreach of desert void. The winds were picking up. Clouds of white dust blanketed the hills, nullifying any irregularities on the ivory sands.
He let out a huff. This cannot be ignored; I never should have asked her. It certainly had not happened overnight; he vividly remembered the look she gave him months ago under the false blue skies of Las Noches. Why had he been so quick to ignore it then? He typically followed his intuitions about things, but in this area he had been unusually stubborn. And now he was forced to pay for it because of his ill-considered inquisitiveness. Information could be so inconvenient.
Was this something important enough to report to Aizen-sama?
No, not yet. The Hogyoku is likely to radically affect her, and especially her memory. There is a good possibility that her experience will be similar to mine.
The significance of this was not lost on him.
Ulquiorra continued staring out into the vast blankness before him for some time.
If this happens, she will forget everything.
He would be erased from her memory, just like their footprints in the desert sand.
.oOo.
Orihime half expected to see Starrk the next day for her training, but instead Ulquiorra arrived at her door.
I might as well get over it, she thought. She followed him out in typical quiet, sighing when they arrived at a chosen spot.
Dreading the moment when she had to look at him, she prepared herself for yet another day of humiliation. Knowing what he knew did make things exponentially more awkward, but Orihime could not help but feel relief. She was finally free from her burden of secrecy. She could deal with his apathy; she had lived through something similar before, after all. She was even proud of herself for confessing. In her other life, she would have had an army of distractions to protect her from making such a mistake: numerous friends, martial arts, cooking, school and studies, even fighting hollows—she laughed at the bitter irony of this. In Hueco Mundo, she had only Lilynette and Starrk, and this was occasional. The rest of her time was eaten up by contemplation and shame, pain and confusion, regret and depression, so that feelings of any kind were bound to grow much more quickly and settle much more deeply, and distract one so much more intently as to cause one to surrender. Perhaps it was a sign of weakness that somewhere in the back of her mind, she had done it to add a little spice in her life; such was the tragedy of the spirit-world of Hueco Mundo. A distinct air of nihilism suffocated every creature who trod its surface, and Orihime was buckling. It had taken months, but the white walls of Las Noches were finally starting to break her; the confession was solid evidence of this.
She turned her eyes to his, waiting for the signal. It did not come. Instead, he stepped towards her without releasing Murciélago. Orihime looked around to see if perhaps there was anyone watching them. There was not. Ulquiorra continued to walk towards her. She could feel the thumping in her chest beat more quickly. What is he doing?
He finally stopped several feet away from her. Unable to read his expression, she finally asked, "What's the matter? Why aren't we training?"
"Aizen-sama has decided that you are ready for the Hyogoku."
"What?"
"Yes. Tomorrow you will go see him. Your progress has been substantial."
Orihime panicked. She did not think this day would ever come.
"Oh, my… I-I-Are you serious? Oh, gosh…Um…oh!"
She stopped, realizing something. "Wait. Why take me all the way out here to tell me this?"
"Prying ears."
"What?"
"It is unimportant. I wish to speak with you about your comments yesterday."
"Oh." Orihime avoided his face. She rubbed her arm distractedly.
"Is it true?"
There was no point in denying it now, but Orihime did not respond.
"How is it possible?"
Silence.
"I have never suggested any inkling of kindness, nor friendship, and especially not affection. You cannot deny that your emotions are completely unfounded."
Though his words were not entirely true, they still made Orihime feel uncomfortable. This was worse than Kurosaki's obliviousness.
Ulquiorra grew quiet, observing her. That this woman could harbor feelings of fondness for him was incomprehensible, but it thoroughly intrigued him. As he stood before her, he felt the oddity emerge, the irrational enthusiasm associated with novelty; it induced him to continue studying her, flickering obstinately before he made his attempts at brushing it away. But he stayed, perplexed at her ability to continue taking him by surprise. He could write books attempting to model this girl's behavior, and it still would not suffice as an accurate predictor of her actions.
Orihime finally looked upwards at him. Her eyes grew very soft as they met his, as she finally allowed herself to give in to the luminosity of his irises without any barriers. The release of emotional weight was tremendously gratifying. A shade of light pink danced its way up her cheeks, igniting subtle rays of hope long snuffed out in the bowers of her heart.
He's not…objecting, she realized in disbelief.
Despite Ulquiorra's attempts at curtailing his intrigue, it intensified with the darkening rose on her face. He was well aware that it was him causing the color on her cheeks to spread. The extent of his effect on her was incredibly interesting, and this was saying something considering his standards. He had the capability to make her talk, make her laugh, make her cry.
Make her turn red.
Ulquiorra parted his lips slightly, as though he was about to speak, but instead he formed the sphere to carry them back to her chambers. She felt utterly disappointed that he did not say or do anything further, but a new realization dawned on her. His idiosyncratic lack of reaction really spoke volumes if the timing was right, and she was growing talented at distinguishing among his subtleties. She examined him bashfully, a new understanding overtaking her as he carried them across the pale sands. Orihime continued to stare after him like the fool she was, allowing herself to hope, to freely indulge in his alluring features for this last night. Tomorrow would be another day, when she would be his equal, and who knew if she would feel the same? She prayed that she would not forget herself as she was now.
Upon arriving at her door, Ulquiorra took his usual leave. Orihime whispered a melodious goodnight; it had been a long time since she had spoken to him so sweetly.
She dared to give him one last glance as he closed the door.
.oOo.
Orihime awoke the next morning panicked about what the day would bring, but she assured herself that all would be fine. She heard a knock on her door earlier than usual. As Ulquiorra entered her room, she noticed that his expression was eerily stoic, almost unreadable. He gave her six words that would change the course of her immediate life:
"Your friends have come for you."
