Orihime's attempt to lift the knife from the common room played on Aizen's mind over the next few days. Suicide was not the affect he wanted to have on her. He gave her a little room, a little space and time away from him. It tore at him to do so, but he believed that, in the end, it would matter more greatly than forcing her feelings.
He spent the majority of the next three days in the laboratory, overseeing progress the head technician was making with his most recent gadgets. It wasn't Szayel, or even a clever reproduction of the previous researcher. The manufactured Arrancar now in charge of the lab was a creation of Szayel's – not too clever – and not too resourceful about some things either, Aizen was learning.
He stood in the immaculate laboratory with the three researchers, the head one simply called the Technician, and studied the progress.
The progress lay on the table of the lab, surrounded by spare parts and dashed hopes. Aizen looked at the small, winged creature, and then to the Technician. "This is a hummingbird?"
The Technician was bald, but not in a becoming way, as Ikkaku had been. He was simply bald with a slightly misshapen skull and a gray scalp where Szayel had made repairs a few times. He nodded as he and Aizen looked at the small birdlike creation.
Aizen sighed. "This is the best you can do?"
The Technician's expression changed only minutely. He was more accustomed to Aizen's orders to remove difficulties from Arrancar composition, not create something akin to beauty. There had been a lot of such orders lately, ever since she had arrived. He'd yet to see the Living girl, but she had increased his workload. It didn't help that Aizen was always looking over his shoulder, either. "Yes, Aizen-sama."
Aizen nodded slowly. "If you had more direction," he posed, inspecting the anemic-looking small bird more thoroughly, "could you improve upon this prototype?"
The Technician's expression turned miffed, just slightly, but he nodded. "I believe any more information would be helpful, Aizen-sama." He brightened a bit. "We've made more progress with the other experiments."
Aizen glanced to the next chamber of the room. It was divided by a thick pane of glass laced with spirit-cutting particles. Behind it were three slouching Arrancar, each in the final stages of being broken. Aizen gave them a dismissive look. The strongest he did not break; he sent those for training with the remaining Espada.
The Technician gestured to another door in the starkly white and chrome room. "The other experiment, Aizen-sama."
Aizen looked there. His interests had shifted since the War, but old habits died slowly, even without the Hyogoku's influence. He nodded. "Show me."
The lab's door to the outside hall opened and Ulquiorra stepped in, looking around with mild curiosity. He passed the lab table, giving the small birdlike figure a glance, and went to where Aizen and the Technician stood.
"Grimmjow said you wanted to speak to me, Aizen-sama," he said.
"Yes, I've a particular task for you," Aizen said. "It involves a definite delicacy Grimmjow usually lacks, and you have something of a rapport with Orihime."
For a moment Ulquiorra simply stared back at him, uncertainty eclipsing his usual staidness.
Aizen studied him. "I think perhaps a variety of familiar faces may help more than exclusivity right now."
"I don't think I understand," Ulquiorra said slowly. "Not fully."
Aizen nodded.
Fifteen minutes later Orihime found Ulquiorra at the door to her room. She'd expected Aizen, as he indicated earlier when they'd met briefly for tea that morning, but she was pleased to see Ulquiorra. She hadn't been too pleased to see him at her apartment nearly two weeks ago, but part of that was the suddenness of his visit.
The rest was that he'd confiscated her fighting sprite hair pin and taken her back to Las Noches. But that was not his choice, and she knew it.
He glanced over her tan practice clothes. "Aizen-sama has sent me to see to your sparring this morning."
"Oh..." Orihime looked beyond him into the hall. It was empty. She bit her lower lip, waiting for him to say anything else. "Is he angry with me?"
Ulquiorra frowned. "I don't think so. Have you done something to upset him?"
Actually, she figured she had a list of upsetting things she'd inadvertently done to disappoint Aizen. She didn't voice any of them. "...No."
"Are you ready to go out?"
She nodded. He looked no different to her, dressed in the same white and black uniform he'd worn since she'd returned. "I'm to spar with you?"
He nodded. "It will not be real, you understand."
She smiled a little. "I understand."
Orihime understood sparring was just that; what was beginning to bother her was the fact that Aizen had turned over their practice session to someone else. Not that she wanted his company on the battlefield, even a practice one, she reminded herself, but since her little incident in the common room, he'd been scarcer around her.
She frowned as she followed Ulquiorra out of the courtyard doors and onto the artificial grass. He led them to the familiar pillar area under the milky bright sky to where she'd had the previous session with Aizen. The two bokken were already waiting at the column. So was Grimmjow.
Orihime frowned, her discomfort inching up a notch. Her steps slowed, and Ulquiorra advanced a few paces ahead of her. She quickened her feet, returning a timid look for the grin on Grimmjow's face.
"This doesn't concern you," Ulquiorra said to the other Espada. "Aizen-sama has placed Inoue-chan in my care for –"
"I know that," Grimmjow said. He let a slow scrutiny go over Orihime from foot to ponytail, chuckling at her practice attire. He glanced back to Ulquiorra. "Considering she didn't fare so well last time she sparred with Loly and Menoly, I figured I'd be here. And," he said, grinning more as Orihime recalled his intervention on her behalf from the female Arrancar attack, "if there's a chance she's gonna take another swipe at you, Schiffer, I want to see that, too."
Ulquiorra frowned as Grimmjow laughed, the Sexta's attention going to Orihime's blush at the memory of her slap at her former room during the War. Ulquiorra picked up both bokken. "This still is no concern of yours," he told Grimmjow.
"Or maybe Aizen knows you're not qualified to train your own fraccíon," Grimmjow decided, grinning at Orihime. "Maybe a timid Living girl is more your speed."
She looked to the bokken Ulquiorra held, seeing his grip tightening around both hilts.
"Better watch it," Grimmjow said as he sat down near the column, "she may not be as timid as she looks, Schiffer."
Ulquiorra turned to Orihime. "Ignore him. He's sorry the War is over and he has fewer opponents to fight." He handed her one of the wooden sword. "Not that he won most of those battles..."
Orihime shot a glance to Grimmjow as Ulquiorra said it, but Grimmjow wasn't looking at her.
"At least I was intact at the end of the War," Grimmjow mumbled. "Unlike some piles of dust."
Ulquiorra stepped a few feet away from Grimmjow and took Orihime with him. "How far did Aizen-sama get in your tutelage?"
"Oh, I don't think he's really teaching me to fight," she said, making an effort at ignoring Grimmjow's attention. "I think it's just a pastime. For him."
"I see." It was clear Ulquiorra wasn't certain what sort of pastime the sparring was meant to be, but he didn't press the issue. He stepped back from her, seeming to be at a loss for the first action. "You may begin."
"That's no way to begin a practice," Grimmjow said.
"If you don't like it, then leave." Ulquiorra didn't look to him, instead holding his bokken to one side, leaving himself wide open for Orihime's attack.
She frowned, the mild heat of the day seeming to magnify on her. She took the hilt with both hands, looking from Ulquiorra's casual stance to the space between them. He had one hand in his pocket, one on the sword; clearly he wasn't expecting any confrontation.
She'd resisted practicing with Aizen and it had gotten her nowhere, and she figured it would be the same with Ulquiorra. Her fingers flexed around the hilt, and then she stepped forward, bringing the blade in an awkward swipe at Ulquiorra's weapon.
It effectively smacked the lowered blade and he lifted it just enough to intercept.
He nodded. "Good. Continue."
Grimmjow made a groan of wining chuckle, but neither combatant looked to him.
Orihime made another half-hearted movement, this time catching Ulquiorra's blade higher as he lifted it. He nodded. "You're –"
"What the hell's wrong with you?" Grimmjow barked at Ulquiorra. "Lift your sword! Give her something to aim at!"
Orihime cast him a nervous glance, and then watched as Ulquiorra raised the sword to chest level, extended before him.
"I won't strike you," he told her. "You may strike harder, Inoue-chan."
"Okay." She brought the sword down on his blade again, a resounding smack that landed solidly. She had no fear of hitting him, not with the bokken extended as it was. She made a few more strikes, each landing center on the wooden blade.
"Very good," Ulquiorra said, stepping to one side, angling the sword only slightly.
"Very good?" Grimmjow mocked. "You might as well be a post, Schiffer. Move around some." He looked to Orihime. "Hit him in the chest."
She lowered her sword. "Oh, no. I can't do that."
"You won't do that; he'll move out of the way," Grimmjow said, getting to his feet. "At least try to strike him in the chest. Or face." He nodded to Ulquiorra. "Aim for that whole in his neck."
Orihime backed up at the command, shaking her head.
"This is not your session," Ulquiorra told Grimmjow. "Go train your own fraccíon."
Grimmjow gestured to Orihime, but he was looking at Ulquiorra. "You know you're not doing it right. Tell her to really hit you."
Ulquiorra looked to her. Orihime shook her head.
"Why not?" Grimmjow demanded of her. "Afraid of knocking the lines off his face? What's wrong with you? You've seen fights. Hit him where it matters!"
She shook her head, stepping back as Grimmjow glared at her. "But I ... I can't –"
"You ever see opponents aiming for each other's weapons? No. Stop chasing his sword around and aim at him," he said.
"I don't want to hit him," she managed, glancing from him to Ulquiorra. "I don't want to hit anyone." Her sword lowered. "It's just practice."
In a quick movement, Grimmjow grabbed the bokken from Ulquiorra and stepped between them. He faced Orihime with a grin, the bokken tight in his large hand. "Now hit me, girl."
Ulquiorra drew his sword from his side, a sound that made Grimmjow step back and look to him.
"Leave her alone, Grimmjow," he said, his sword lowered, but this time with a different intent than the bokken had been.
"Put that away; this is practice, remember?" Grimmjow's defenses spiked despite the wooden sword in his hand. His gaze stayed on Ulquiorra. "I ain't taking a swing at her, Schiffer, but you need to liven up your instruction." He looked back to Orihime, his grin turning less severe. "Come on!"
Something in his tone spurred Orihime to action. Ulquiorra still stood to their side, his very real sword drawn, which lent her a shade of confidence she wouldn't have otherwise had. She brought the bokken blade across the one Grimmjow held lowered to his side, a crack that echoed sharply across the courtyard.
He grinned wider, stepping back, raising the bokken slightly, his other hand beckoning her again. "Come on, girl. Something bigger!"
She followed through with another blow, and then another, each landing mid-blade, each bringing a grunt from her. She didn't realize each was also higher as Grimmjow progressively held the blade angled closer to himself, until the last blow made her raise the bokken over her head.
Her blade smacked at the opposite bokken, catching Grimmjow's near his collarbone. He grabbed the blade at the cross point, not letting her step away with it.
She stared back at him, suddenly aware she was too close, and far more engaged in the sparring than she planned.
He grinned down at her. "You're leaving yourself wide open," he said, nodding at her extended arms as she tried to tug the blade out of his hand.
"...You're taller," she said, realizing she was slightly breathless. "I had to."
He nodded, glancing to Ulquiorra, who was still watching the exchange, his hand tight on his sword.
"You've made your point, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said. "Unhand her."
Grimmjow released the bokken blade and Orihime stepped back, lowering it. She pushed her hair from her face, feeling her cheeks warm and pink. She straightened her kendo shirt, eyes on Ulquiorra.
He was still looking at Grimmjow.
Grimmjow tossed him the bokken, still aware of the sword in the other Espada's hand. "If you're going to train her, at least do it right." He gave Orihime a brief glimpse. "Aizen expects that much out of you," he told Ulquiorra.
She caught her breath slowly, watching Ulquiorra, and then looked back down to the bokken.
Grimmjow snorted a scoff. "What are you so damn sad-faced about? Still don't want to be here?" Before she could answer, he continued. "Last time you were all so eager to come here. What the hell's the difference this time?"
Her hand tightened on the sword hilt, frowning at him even as she hoped he wouldn't divulge his refused proposal to take her home. "I wanted to protect my friends last time," she said as stoutly as she could muster, still flushed from the practice.
Ulquiorra's eyes widened slightly with guilt.
Grimmjow seemed surprised by her tone. "That's it?"
She nodded.
"You think it was your choice last time?"
Ulquiorra shifted a look between them.
"I agreed last time," she said, her voice losing some of its force. "I didn't have a choice this time."
A laugh burst out of Grimmjow, which was matched by a dark look from Ulquiorra.
"You believed you had a choice? That's what he told you, so you believed it?" He sent Ulquiorra caustic glance. "You were so smart to make her think she had a choice in the matter that she actually thought she made a decision!" He shook his head, chuckling as he glanced back to Orihime. "You saved your friends, who came to rescue you anyway. You don't want to be here now, but since you are, Aizen's been too preoccupied to think of revenge or battle. It achieves the same end."
"But he said he didn't want another war," she said in a bolder tone. She looked quickly to Ulquiorra. "He said –"
"He doesn't," Ulquiorra said to her, but sent a cautionary glance to Grimmjow. "You know he has no plans for a war of any sort. Why are you frightening her?"
"I'm not." Grimmjow gave him a growl. "Look, she's here and Aizen's too preoccupied to want another war." He looked back to her. "Guess you've still accomplished your objective of protecting your friends anyway, Inoue," he said with a chuckle. "That should cheer you up."
For a moment she frowned at him, sorting through his words carefully, her fears of him outing her request to be taken back to the Living World falling away.
Grimmjow gave Ulquiorra a sharper look, seeing the sword still in the higher ranked Espada's hand. "You gonna use that on her for practice?"
Ulquiorra immediately sheathed the sword. He was about to speak when a wave of powerful reiatsu washed over the courtyard. All three looked to the walled perimeter in the direction of the invasion. Nothing was to be seen over the crumbling exterior wall, but Orihime could feel it. Something unfamiliar, thick, powerful.
Ulquiorra's hand closed on her arm. "I'll take you to your room."
His eyes were still on the wall, and she turned to walk ahead of him to the compound door. Behind them Grimmjow was already leaving to investigate, springing from the courtyard without speaking.
Within moments Orihime was back in her rooms, Ulquiorra returning to the exterior to follow up on the disturbance.
Orihime learned nothing of the strange reiatsu flux even by that evening. She'd had her lunch alone in the common room, and her bath in her private quarters, her mind still volleying between several avenues of thoughts as she soaked in the large tub. Her brief bout with Grimmjow hadn't left her tired or sore, but she had sour thoughts of the sparring match.
Not so much the physicality of it; she'd found no issue with attempting to hit him.
After the bath, she dressed in the water blue kimono with the pink and white flowers, tying the sash as her hair dried that evening. The more she thought about what he'd said, the less she liked most of it. But there were a few points that she couldn't ignore.
She sat on the bench at the small mirrored dressing table and looked at herself in the dim light. She picked up the brush, absently pulling it through her damp hair as her mind went back to the afternoon. Yes, Aizen had said he was making time for her – until recently – away from the lab, and yes, she knew he had experiments there.
She didn't know what kind of experiments, something with Hollows, she assumed, but that was all she knew. Both Aizen and Ulquiorra said there was to be no war. Orihime didn't like replaying Grimmjow's words back through her mind, but she let them.
Among the barbs he'd thrown at Ulquiorra, there were a few bits of information she gleaned. Time Aizen spent with her was time away from the lab; that was good, she decided, even if it meant more time for her with him. And any less time in the lab was less time he could spend on what had – in the past – been plans for war with Soul Society, and ultimately, war against her friends.
She frowned at herself, not seeing her reflection, not liking the conclusions to her equation. Maybe she hadn't really had a choice but to accompany Ulquiorra the first time to Hueco Mundo, but she thought she had. That mattered to her. Her mind twisted through lanes of feelings in her head, pushing away her usual thoughts. She was still separating some of those ideas when she heard a soft knocking at the door to the common room.
She went there, wondering if one of her attendants was waiting. She opened it enough to see Aizen looking back at her.
He smiled, nodding in approval on her kimono. "Come in here, Orihime. I've something to show you."
A ripple of relief passed over her as she stepped into the common room, along with confusion on why it would. He wasn't angry with her, she decided, sitting with him at the low table where last she'd committed her silly attempt at taking the knife. Her gaze dropped to the pale blue sheet near the table by their cushions.
"I've been neglecting you," he said, settling beside her, one arm on the table where a small object lay. "I need your opinion on something. The lab is sorely lacking in practical knowledge of Living things."
The room was dimly lit, as usual in the evening, and the fern green walls appeared more an olive color. Orihime looked down at the table as he fingered the object.
It was small, with a bulbous body covered with a fine feathery layer, and a long narrow protrusion at one end and small wings to either side.
She smiled, delight overtaking her usual trepidation. "Oh! A dragonfly!" She leaned closer as he lifted it for her to see better.
Aizen's face fell as he sighed. "That's what I was afraid of."
Orihime's attention went to him quickly. "You? Afraid?"
He smiled more. "Not that sort of afraid, Orihime. This," he said, taking her hand and setting the winged object carefully in her palm, "is supposed to be a hummingbird."
"A...a hummingbird? Oh." She looked closer at it; it was no hummingbird.
He turned it around and tilted the beak-or-tail protrusion up. "Yes. My lab researchers are not familiar with, well, much in the Living world. I described to them a hummingbird, and this is what they created." He watched her finger softly stroke the back of the insect-bird. "It's a prototype of future projects. They got it wrong."
"Hmm, yes," she said, lifting the bird higher. It had the general appearance of either bird or dragonfly, but would be mistaken for neither. She looked slowly to him, hoping. "This is your experiment in the laboratory?"
"One of them."
Orihime had hoped for a different answer. She carefully set the item on the table. "And the Hollow physiology?"
He nodded, looking to each of her eyes. "That, too."
She let her gaze go back to the birdlike object.
"It doesn't look much like a hummingbird," he said, his tone taking a different lilt.
"No," she agreed, but then added, "but it's a good start." She looked up, detecting the shift in his voice. "Isn't it?"
He nodded. To their side he pulled back the sheet lying on the floor. Below it laid his zanpakutou. Orihime caught her breath sharply, inching away as he took her hand nearest the sword.
"My former lieutenant spent several decades trying to learn how to circumvent my zanpakutou's abilities," he said mildly, feeling her wrist tense in his hand, watching the fear slip over her face. His thumb rubbed gently across her skin, and Orihime found her fingers relaxing slightly. "Kyouka Suigetsu's power is annulled by touching the blade. Any illusion I create dissolves." He looked down at her wrist in his hand. "What's left is the truth."
Orihime tried to pull her hand away, eyes darting to the sword. "Is, is there illusion here?" The words caught in her throat, fearing the answer. "Is ... am ..."
He smiled, not the sharp smile of a ruler nor the easy smile of the shinigami captain he'd presented to Soul Society. A different type, for her. He moved her hand palm down to the sword's blade, just at the midpoint at the flat side of metal. He could feel the increase in her resistance, but he forced her hand those last few inches to the blade. "Illusion is impossible once you've realized, Orihime."
She wasn't sure what to expect. A stinging, or burning sensation, maybe even electricity from the blade. But there was none. Mere metal, probably high-carbon or stainless, if she'd asked a sword smith or metallurgist. Probably something different, in the spiritual realm, she thought.
She looked down at it, at her fingers on the blade, Aizen's pressing hold. She looked back to him.
He looked the same, his hair slightly askew from the usual slicked-back manner that she'd seen on her previous, pre-War visit to Las Noches. He was still wearing his black and white clothing as before.
"Does anything look different to you, Orihime?"
His tone was the same, that mesmerizing quality that she realized was simply something he did when he chose to; nothing to do with Kyouka Suigetsu. She shook her head.
He chuckled. "You haven't looked at anything."
"Oh." She gave a quick glance around the room, seeing nothing different, and then looked to the object on the table the laboratory had created. It was still neither bird nor insect, neither a fully developed hummingbird nor leaner looking dragonfly. In fact, it looked a bit more hideous. Her fingers curled away from the blade, an unconscious movement she didn't notice until Aizen's hand took hers into his. "The bird thing. It's not quite so..." she hesitated, frowning at the object, "well done."
He nodded. "No. I was hoping you would like it more if it appeared more recognizable."
She looked to him fully now. "You made it appear that way?"
"Yes."
She felt a faint flush over her cheeks, which she blamed on her recent bath. She looked to her hand as he lifted it, seeming to inspect her wrist.
"Would you prefer the lab create a dragonfly or hummingbird?"
She smiled, returning his rapt attention. "A hummingbird."
He nodded, and then brought her hand closer, turning it as he bent to kiss the inside of her wrist.
Orihime shook her head, but words failed her. She only saw the top of his head as he kissed her skin, feeling his lips move slowly along her flesh. Her pulse pricked beneath her skin as his lips brushed her arm, pausing where the kimono's wide white trim edged her sleeve.
She shook her head again, a different sort of desperation gripping her. "I ... it's ..." She put a hand to his shoulder, but didn't push him away, and then let her fingers move to his neck, pausing at the brown hair that fell to his collar there.
"Sousuke," she said without thinking, shaking her head as her breath seeming suddenly to fail her.
He did look at her now, keeping her wrist in his grip, feeling the very vibrant beating of her pulse there. This time his smile was less, his focus on her enormous violet-gray eyes that admitted every emotion she was trying to keep conceal. His other hand rested on hers at his neck.
"I mean, I ... meant..."
"Is that a memory, Orihime?"
She looked down, seeing now that her knees were touching his thigh, a far too close proximity. She didn't move away, looking sheepishly to him. He was still near, barely inches from her face, something familiar about the scent pervading him.
"No," she finally said. "It can't be. It was... I misspoke, Aizen-sama. I'm sorry."
He kept her hand at his shoulder when she tried to move it away, watching for a long moment as she would glance at him briefly only to let her gaze drop, to rest on her knees again, and then hesitantly look to him again and repeat the pattern.
"I'll tell you what, Orihime," he said lowly, letting her hand move from his shoulder to the table, still clasped in his. "We'll make it a bird. A hummingbird."
She looked up quickly, emotionally grasping at the frail strand of anything less than awkward. "A, a hummingbird?" She swallowed quickly, her throat dry, pulse still pounding beneath his hand on her wrist.
He nodded, looking to each of her eyes at the embarrassment there. "A hummingbird." He let her turn to the table, releasing her wrist, his hand move to her back in a light touch.
She made herself look at the created bird, blinking at it several times. "...Okay."
"Good."
There was a knock at the door to the hall, followed by one of her attendants calling out.
She looked to him, her mind buzzing with assorted mistakes she'd made over the last thirty seconds.
"One of your attendants," he said, watching her eyes. "Have you given them names yet?"
"No. But I will." Orihime surprised herself with the few words.
"Good. And I do," he said leaning to her ear, bringing with the movement a short quickening of her heartbeat, "prefer you use Sousuke."
Aizen stood to open the door.
Orihime watched the bird before her on the table, this time her mind numbing for other reasons.
How could she have dared call him Sousuke?
Author's Note: Rating will change to M for sexual content within the next two chapters. Thanks for reading!
