2/8/2021


"Oi, Yoruichi-san, pass me those chips!" Urahara called from his seat at the end of the couch. In seconds, a bright pink bag of Potato Yumms landed on his lap. After ripping it open, he pulled out one of the large treats and took a bite. "Been dying to try these. Not bad."

"Jinta-kun, stop hogging the rug!" Ururu cried.

"You stop hogging the popcorn, Ururu!"

The two children lay belly-flat on the floor, their heads propped up in their hands. They sat before the massive television set Kisuke had just installed two days prior—it was their new preferred spot when everyone was invested in a particular television show.

Orihime sang an offering from the kitchen. "Does anyone want any macarons? New recipe!"

"I'll take a couple," said Yoruichi. "Just so long as they're not pistachio."

"Nope! Blueberry chocolate!"

Tessai stood in the kitchen alongside Orihime, placing delicate leaves of mint garnish atop six glasses of tart yellow lemonade. After gently aligning them on a silver tray, Tessai strode over to the living room to serve everyone.

"Thanks, Tessai," said Yoruichi, helping herself to a glass. "This stuff gets better every time."

"Always a pleasure," he replied.

A hush fell among them as the dramatic introductory music began, and the three shinigami settled into their own preferred spots on the sofas. They'd all taken to an unexpected new show—a Mexican telenovela opportunely subtitled in Japanese.

It all started with Tessai. He was on a recent Spanish kick, devouring various Spanish novels and subscribing to Spanish TV channels from around the globe. One night, as he flipped through his subscriptions, he happened upon a telenovela. The vivid melodrama immediately triggered his interest, compelling him to stay planted in his seat for the rest of the show. The following weeknight, he sat before the TV again. This time, Kisuke joined him, and mere minutes into the show, the shopkeeper proceeded to expound on the many faults of Lucía, one of the teenage characters. She really needed to get over that horrible Gerardo because it was obvious he showed no interest in her, Kisuke concluded seriously, eyes glued to the TV. The two men sat and watched the rest of the program together.

On night three, Ururu became the show's next victim. She joined in her own quiet way, following Kisuke, as she often took an interest in something whenever he did. Yoruichi stormed into the room and lectured them all on night four, delivering a critical rebuke about how they needed to stop rotting their brains with such garbage, until she, too, started huffing about that stupid Lucía and, dammit, that nasty Eugenio was much too old for Fernanda.

Next was Orihime. She was still a bit shy since Ulquiorra's arrival, but seeing everyone huddled on the couch for over a week, shouting, snacking (and bickering about whether Fernanda was really going to marry Eugenio despite being pregnant with José Luis's baby!), was far too enticing a development to ignore. And with no one else left to talk to, Jinta was eventually sucked into the drama.

Unfortunately for Ulquiorra, the TV room was located on the other side of his bedroom wall. He heard all the arguments, shouts at the television, the frustrations, and the aggravating snippets called commercials. After the second week of it, he cynically realized the rest of his miserable nights would need to be spent on the roof to avoid this insufferable clamor.

Just as the irksome introductory music blared through his walls at the start of the third week—now louder after the shopkeeper installed a larger television and matching sound system despite the subtitles—Ulquiorra shuffled away from his bed and exited his room. The TV was positioned on the far wall opposite his door, and the couches were to his left. They would not see him unless he revealed himself, but he could observe them. They were all engrossed like pathetic idiots. If they ever noticed him crossing the hall to pass through the kitchen and into the backyard, they never said a word. So he closed his bedroom door and made his usual move.

When he entered the kitchen, his focus was on the back door, so he heard the gasp before he saw her.

Ulquiorra studied her from feet to face. She was wearing sleeping clothes, and in her hand was a platter of human food he did not immediately recognize. With wide eyes and an open mouth Orihime gaped at him, her fingers tightening around the tray in her hands.

She mumbled something he could not hear, then nodded at the platter she was carrying. "I thought everyone might want to try the new macaron recipe I learned."

When he did not respond, she knit her brows together as though she were considering something important. A brief silence passed between them until resolution flashed across her face, and she held out the plate to him in a shy offer.

Despite all the time she'd spent eliminating the aching void of his appetite, it appeared to have slipped her mind that he did not consume human food. For the first time since perhaps he could remember, Ulquiorra felt amused.

"I am not accustomed to human food."

Her shoulders sagged, and as she retreated, a shade of peony pink blazed across her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I forgot."

Someone called out from the living room, "Inoue-san, it's starting!"

She excused herself with a quick nod, and he watched her hurry back to the show, silver tray in hand. Just before she passed the threshold to join the others, she turned and gave him a gracious smile—one in which she seemed to place substantial energy and warmth, though he somehow knew it was not forced. At that angle, with the kitchen light softening the shadows across her face, Ulquiorra realized he had not seen that look cross her countenance in a long while.

"It's so beautiful outside," she said. "And it's not too cold. It's a perfect night for stargazing." She shuffled her feet. "I, uh…I hope you enjoy yourself on the roof…Ulquiorra."

It was difficult to ignore the way she rested her gaze upon him at that precise moment, because it very much reminded him of that fateful day under the false blue skies of Las Noches when her eyes betrayed the impossible.

It had been about a fortnight since he'd encountered her, shivering and bare-skinned, after emerging from the onsen. He had just overheard every word of the conversation between Orihime and the catwoman. It was not his intention to eavesdrop, but with his bedroom window open, the opportunity presented itself.

His mind was still dissecting all that she'd revealed: Her version of all that had transpired between them, the private details of her emotions, the depths of her perspective—these were specifics he had never heard. He witnessed her development in Las Noches, of course, but many of her deep sorrows and concealed sentiments were novel to his ears.

He was most intrigued by all the ways in which she personified him. While all he heard was not a complete shock, the intimate quality of her confessions was unexpected. She seemed to have found many hidden meanings in his conduct towards her—many of which he had not intended. With wavers in her speech and a soft, high-pitched timbre, she spoke of him like she esteemed and trusted him. Truly, he observed no pretense with Orihime. If he ever had any doubt about her affection, its certainty was now indisputable. Beyond all comprehension, her fondness for him actually seemed to have flourished amidst all that transpired.

He had always been cognizant of her inner strength. He saw it in the beginning, in her eyes when she arrived in Las Noches. He saw it in her limitless resolve when he trained her. And he continued to see it even now, as she squared her dainty shoulders and hurried off to join the rest of her nakama on the sofa.

Ulquiorra ambled outside towards the ladder and up to the roof, stopping to cast his eyes upon the blackened heavens. For the hundredth time that week, his mind circled ceaselessly around Orihime's unwitting confessions. In the TV room below, she was probably seated on the couch between the catwoman and the old man, engrossed with the television program and utterly oblivious to his musings.

Bit by bit, he could feel the novelty from his past days flickering to life yet again.

.oOo.

"What a busy day! Thank so much for staying a little longer to help me, Inoue-san!"

"It was my pleasure, boss!"

Orihime emptied the dustpan into a trash bin and straightened the last of the wooden chairs. Her breath hitched when she looked at the clock. An extra two hours! It was a good thing it was a weekend and she had finished all her homework. She sent a quick text to Yoruichi telling her that she was fine and that she would be home soon.

"Here, take the last of the cookies and cupcakes, Inoue-san! You earned it. And you'll be compensated for your time, of course."

"Oh, thank you! I'm trying to save as much as I can for college."

The baker stilled for a bit, resting her hand atop her broom. "College. Wow, already. That's not too far from now, is it?"

Orihime put away her broom and dustpan into the broom closet. She didn't face her boss. "Yes. About another school year."

Makoto's voice was quiet when she spoke. "We'll be sad to see you go. You've grown so much here."

Orihime finally met Makoto's eyes. "I'm actually thinking of applying to culinary school."

Makoto straightened. "Which one?"

"Oh, I haven't decided yet. Maybe something close? But the best schools are in Tokyo, so that means I'll have to move away for a while if I get in."

"I would give you a letter of recommendation. I went to Oishii and it was the best thing—"

Orihime slammed her hands on a table, cutting off the baker. "You went to Oishii?! That's my dream school!"

Makoto's face flushed a gentle shade of rose. "Yes. How do you think I learned how to make all these wonderful desserts?"

"What was it like?!"

"It was hell! But, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. And because of my credentials, it was a lot easier to get a loan for opening up this bakery!"

Orihime's respect for her superior grew by several magnitudes. Makoto was so modest to have kept her education a secret. Oishii was the most prestigious culinary school in Japan. They had a world-class baking and dessert program that Orihime had her eye on for quite a while.

"Wow. So you would…write me a recommendation letter?"

"Inoue-san. You are dedicated, smart, and creative. I know you would succeed there, and if there's anything I can do to help, I will."

Waves of gratitude and relief swelled within her, and slowly the back of Orihime's eyes began to burn.

"Hmm. I suppose you'll be needing to cut your hours at some point, then, to prepare for the College Entrance Test."

"If it's not too much trouble."

"No. You'll need the time to study. I can hire someone else and keep you on the books for weekends and whenever you can work. You'll need the extra baking practice if you're serious about doing this professionally."

"I am!" Orihime eyed the colorful pastries in the display, wondering with some fragment of hope if she would ever create some of her own delicacies. "I was gone for a long time. My new school has been pretty understanding, but it's not easy coming back after a year. Originally, I was thinking about med school, but…I'm just so behind." Orihime tried with all her might to control the bulging dam behind her eyes, but a few tears managed to leak out. "Your guidance has really meant a lot to me, sensei. Thank you for giving me a chance here."

Makoto Kino had some of the kindest eyes Orihime had ever seen.

"I am happy to help, Inoue-san."

.oOo.

On one brisk night not too long after the macaron encounter with Orihime, Ulquiorra sat on his usual spot on the roof in an attempt to avoid the old man's putrid cooking smells. He wasn't seated two minutes before he heard footsteps approaching from behind.

"Arrancar-san, mind if I join you?"

It was the shopkeeper in his usual cloying voice. He didn't bother waiting for an answer before sitting down and reclining his feet beside Ulquiorra.

"We all know how much Inoue-san's feeding routines aren't exactly your ideal situation," he began presumptuously, "so I've come up with some other ideas on how to make it work a little better for everyone. I debated with myself about which of them you'd like best, until finally I realized, why not give him a choice?"

Ulquiorra eyed the shinigami but remained silent.

"There are a couple of choices, but I'd need your help with the second one. The first option is that I have just finished a blueprint for a modified gigai. Now, gigais are normally designed for shinigami, but it'll only take a few minor tweaks to get them to respond to hollow spirits. As you might already know, they convert solid foods into reiatsu. So all you'd have to do is enter the gigai—"

"Absolutely not," said Ulquiorra, cutting across the suggestion. He sneered at the thought of spending his days in such a way.

The shopkeeper sighed. "I figured you'd say that."

"If you knew that would be my response, why did you ask?"

"I've been wrong before."

Ulquiorra scoffed. "What is the other option?"

"Well, for the second one, I'd need a bit of your help. You see, I've been working on breeding a plant that concentrates spirit particles in its leaves. My thought was that we could plant a garden for you, and all you'd have to do is eat the plants. Call it a 'reiatsu salad,' if you will!"

Ulquiorra regarded the shopkeeper out of the corner of his eye. He was beside himself with glee, as though he'd just discovered the cleverest solution ever imagined. He was annoying, but Ulquiorra had to admit that he was impressed by the creative suggestion. He was beginning to understand how a blatherer like him could match Aizen's intellectual prowess.

"Why do you require my assistance?"

"Well, these aren't normal, physical plants. They're made of reiatsu and only grow at night, just like the plants in Hueco Mundo, which is where I got the idea. My lab isn't very sophisticated, so I'd need the help of someone really familiar with Hueco Mundo's ecosystem to speed things up. You seem like someone who would know a lot of details about that sort of thing."

This was true. Ulquiorra's knowledge about the inner workings of Hueco Mundo was likely only surpassed by Szayelaporro Granz. Ulquiorra's removable eye had enabled him with the capacity to understand and store vast amounts of information, which Aizen in turn used to his benefit. It was one of the few diversions Ulquiorra allowed himself to indulge in. With the eye, he was able to quickly learn new languages, understand complex scientific principles, provide support with complicated battle strategies, and it even assisted him in discovering how to create his second release. Once again, it was astute of the shinigami to pick up on this idiosyncrasy of his.

"You seem to know much, for a shopkeeper."

"I'll take that as a compliment, Arrancar-san. So, whatdya say?"

Ulquiorra did not immediately respond. This was clearly an attempt to get him to assimilate, and a cunning one at that. The shopkeeper had correctly identified Ulquiorra's grievances and was seeking a compromise. And from the conversation he'd overheard between Orihime and the catwoman, Kisuke seemed highly interested in getting Ulquiorra to adapt to their way of life. But while the gigai was an unacceptable solution, he did not trust the other option.

"The woman's assistance with my appetite has been bearable thus far."

The shinigami's voice lost all its playfulness. "Look, I don't want to continue burdening Inoue-san with this. It's not just the time it takes to help you, but it's also the emotional toll it's taken. I wouldn't expect you to understand. I also know she's been researching schools to apply to, and in a few months, she'll need to start focusing on her College Entrance Test. She can't be distracted by this."

Ulquiorra had never even considered the possibility of the woman's absence. He knew that humans in many parts of the world spent an exorbitant amount of time obsessing over outrageous exams that held tremendous power over their fates. Laughably, many of those same humans lacked basic survival or fighting skills. Still, the shopkeeper's piercing words made him realize he'd gradually been acclimating to his useless role among the shop people.

Memories of Orihime's tireless training in Hueco Mundo flooded Ulquiorra's mind, and he knew she would not relent until she prevailed with her studies. Sorely, he acknowledged that he would be a growing burden if she continued to assist him.

"I have lost key abilities since the revival. Abilities that significantly enhance my mental faculties and contribute to my memory."

"I'm wondering if Inoue-san would—"

"Do not involve the woman," Ulquiorra stated, a little more sharply than he intended.

The shopkeeper tipped his head to the side and arched a brow. "Didn't you just say you were OK with her help?"

Ulquiorra pivoted his logic. "If she restores my removable eye, she would enhance my powers, and thereby my reiatsu. This would be a risk to you, considering your fragile position as a shinigami outcast." He also considered Mayuri Kurotsuchi and his troublesome experimentations. He added, "It would also be a risk to me, if I were discovered."

That grating, jolly tone in the shopkeeper's voice returned. "You make a good point, Arrancar-san. Though I might be willing to take those risks."

Ulquiorra scrutinized Karakura's glimmering city lights and caught the sounds of cars and buses whirring by. A bicyclist rang his bell, and dogs howled their social calls to the moon. Even at this late hour, the human world was teeming with life. He regarded it with disdain, wondering for what purpose they expended so much energy in their fragile lives. But as he observed, he realized in contempt that he was practically one of them now—at least when it came to the subject of strength.

"I will consider assisting you. But do not involve the woman."

"Why?"

How could he respond to a question for which he lacked any satisfying answer? He loathed his lack of independence, and here was an opportunity to regain it.

Further, the shopkeeper earlier implied something remarkably false—namely that Ulquiorra couldn't understand the weight of Orihime's task. But the truth of that statement had been disappearing with every intimate confession of hers encircling his mind. He understood that ending the feeding routines would release her of the pathetic burden he imposed, and he would simultaneously regain his autonomy.

"There is no need for more of the woman's abilities," Ulquiorra answered at last. "I am still highly skilled at analysis and gathering information. I am resourceful, and I do not like waste. I also remember enough about Hueco Mundo that I would be able to succeed in developing what you are describing."

The shinigami smiled widely. And happily. "Seems I've landed my dream assistant, Arrancar-san."

No other voice had ever been so aggravating to Ulquiorra's ears.

"I only said I would consider it."

"As you wish, Arrancar-san. We don't believe in forcing people to do things they don't want to do. Well, for the most part, at least. We're doing the best we can with you given the unusual circumstances."

The shopkeeper stood up, stretched his arms to the sky, and departed, leaving Ulquiorra to mull his limited options.

Even if he did manage to somehow return to Las Noches, he questioned what use he would be. At his current level of strength, his chances of survival were next to nil. Was it even possible to nurse his way back to his former strength? It might be worthwhile to learn the ways of the shop people, on his own terms, to gain their trust.

Over time, he might find a way to gain more power and escape to his former home.


Those telenovelas will suck you right in. Can you guess which one I am describing? :P Also, I realize that most foreign shows are dubbed, but I feel Tessai would be more interested in something subtitled so that it can help him. Once again, if you are interested in being a beta for this, please contact me!