Hitsugaya Toushiro, child prodigy, Captain of the Tenth Division, was at a complete loss. Rigidly, he stood before a closed sliding door, his eyes passing over every knick and scratch in the smooth dark wood.
Toushiro didn't know what to do. Should he knock? Should be just walk in? They had spent their childhoods together, lived under the same roof. They used to be so intimate; Toushiro would even know when she would wet her bed. There had never been any boundaries between the two, they were like brother and sister, so why did she now feel so far away?
The white-haired pre-teen knew why. Everything that the girl was now, she had become for Aizen. It was why she had worked so hard at the Shinigami Academy. It was why she had joined the Gotei 13. It was why she had trained day in and day out to become the Fukutaichou of the Fifth Division. Serving Aizen had been her driving purpose for all this time, so how could Toushiro face her now that he had killed that purpose?
Tentatively, the captain raised his hand, knocking softly on the wooden door. A moment later, a feeble voice called to him from within. "Come in."
Slowly, Toushiro opened the door, casting light on the frail girl sitting up on her futon. She was dressed in the standard white patient's frock, although she had already been discharged from the Fourth Division. The ebony-haired girl was gazing out the large window that opened to the opulent parks behind the Fifth Division headquarters, her hands folded on her lap. As the captain stepped into the room, the girl looked down from the window to the neutral blue sheets.
"Captain Hitsugaya," the Fukutaichou murmured in greeting, although it sounded more like she was testing the feeling of the words on her tongue. Toushiro's eyes widened momentarily, as he slowly approached the bed. He still couldn't see her face.
"Hinamori…" the captain started, unsure of what to say but wanting to say something. He sat at the edge of Momo's futon, trying to coax her into looking at him. They sat in silence for what felt like eternity.
"He's… really dead…" Momo's voice was hoarse, from disuse or from crying, Toushiro wasn't sure. It was probably both.
"Yeah…" The captain had never before felt so helpless. He struggled with his guilt to keep his eyes on the girl before him. "I'm sorry, Hinamori." Silence fell heavy.
"I can't believe it," Momo whispered, almost to herself. Her shoulders were hunched, her head down, and everything about her being was small and vulnerable. "All this time… All this time, he was…" Toushiro waited with worry-clouded eyes as she swallowed back a sob.
"For-For thirty years he was just pretending," Momo demanded, just a hint of hysteria in her voice. "All those times he helped me train, and smiled at me, and was so kind to me… none of it was real…? I-It's not possible for someone to, to be able to pretend like that! It just… isn't…" Her voice drifted off as tears dropped from her eyes onto small hands that clenched the bedcovers. Toushiro, not knowing what to say, remained silent, turquoise eyes turbulent.
"What can I believe in now," the girl demanded, her voice broken. "How can I believe anything when I can't even trust what I see with my own eyes?" Toushiro clenched his fists so hard he thought they would bleed.
"It was all a lie," Momo raved, more tears falling as she tried to pull air into her lungs. "Everything that I thought I was was a lie! I couldn't be useful to Aizen-taichou, I couldn't protect anyone, and, in the end, I only made things worse!"
The girl's voice abruptly fell to a whisper. "I tried to hurt you, Shiro-chan, I raised my sword to you," she spat the words with disgust. Still gripping the blanket as if her life depended on it, Momo raised her small fists to her heart, trying desperately to keep her quivering chest together. She gasped for air between her tears. "I'm so sorry, Shiro-chan, I'm so sorry…"
The next moment, the crying girl felt strong arms encircle her, and for the first time she looked up to meet Toushiro's gaze. She gasped when she saw his face, twisted with pain, pure agony filling his glossy eyes like unshed tears. Before she could so much as open her mouth to speak, Toushiro brought her even closer, pushing her flush against his chest and gripping her desperately. His head hung low, as if in penitence, almost leaning against the girl's thin shoulder. Overcome with emotion, his whole body shook, and he held Momo even tighter, terrified of letting her go again, unable to let her go again.
Tears beginning anew with explosive force, Momo wrapped her arms around Toushiro's torso and buried her face in his shirt. Some small part of her wondered if her childhood friend's chest had always been so wide.
After the necessary initial awkwardness, Orihime greatly enjoyed her lunch hour. She chatted happily with Ulquiorra, well aware of his unease with being so entrenched in enemy territory. The conversation drifted easily from one topic to another, ultimately covering a wide range of issues that the redhead thought would help Ulquiorra function in the human world. Although he was still unhappy opening up around Ichigo and his other former enemies, the Arrancar soon found it easy to pretend as if they weren't even there.
Orihime, always the friendly one, joked with and teased Ulquiorra playfully, and he couldn't help but respond to the happiness and glee that emanated from her. He found her good humour contagious.
"So, Ulquiorra," Orihime started, smiling at her new friend genuinely. "You've had most of your classes already, what do you think?"
This was one of the questions that the Ulquiorra of yesterday would consider not answering. The Ulquiorra of today understood just how enjoyable Orihime's company was. "The classes are undemanding." The simple statement caused Orihime to widen her eyes.
"You're not serious!" Unconsciously, the redhead leaned towards Ulquiorra, eyes probing his. "I'm going to be up all night doing my make-up work!"
"If you like, I can do it for you," the Arrancar offered in gentle monotone. Once again, Orihime's eyes widened, but this time they revealed just a little hope.
"You'd do that for me," the girl asked dreamily, obviously enraptured by the possibility of a smaller workload.
"For a price," Ulquiorra amended, amused by the barely-discernable dulling of Orihime's deep grey eyes. Nevertheless, the teenager clung to her hope.
"I'll make you something extra-delicious for supper," Orihime tempted, raising her thin eyebrows suggestively. In turn, the emerald-eyed teenager reached into his pocket, extracting a pristinely folded loose leaf.
Scooting over next to Ulquiorra until their legs were pressed against each other, Orihime leaned over to read what the willowy man was pointing at. Immediately a crimson blush pooled over her cheeks. "Are you sure you wouldn't want one of your own… I mean, we can definitely make room…"
"No," Ulquiorra asserted, his voice no-nonsense. "This is the one demand that I will not yield. You will give in on this stipulation in exchange for my services." Orihime sighed. He was testing her limits, of that she was sure.
"Don't you think that that will be a little difficult," the redhead stressed, her heart-shaped face contorting as she tried to drop her hint.
"On the contrary," Ulquiorra responded, seemingly oblivious to Orihime's attempts to communicate via facial expression. Ironically, his emerald eyes still felt like they pierced her soul. "It is difficult fitting both of our bodies comfortably on such a small area. It would be too easy for me to inadvertently trespass on your boundaries and therefore be evicted."
"Well, if it's at night-time, I can't exactly blame you for it," Orihime grumbled shyly, diverting her eyes as again a blush crept onto her cheeks. She was painfully conscious both of her close physical proximity to Ulquiorra and of the vague inquisitiveness of her friends across the loose circle.
"Orihime," Ulquiorra commented after a moment, almost nonchalantly, "the victories you have won up until this point pale in comparison to the victory I have just achieved." Orihime's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but before she could raise her voice, Ulquiorra changed the subject.
"Are you quite intent on keeping the walls yellow," the Arrancar asked, glancing distractedly at the list between himself and Orihime.
"I was actually thinking about that," she exclaimed, Ulquiorra's question awakening some pool of excitement in the grey-eyed girl. "Because all of this is symbolic of our compromise, why don't we, for the walls, go half-way between white and yellow, and paint the walls a nice creamy beige!"
Silently, Ulquiorra considered. "Then the tables would need to be made of glass."
Orihime cheered. She knew they worked on the same wavelength. "Now you get my drift!"
Ulquiorra and Orihime continued to discuss their future redecoration plans, when suddenly Orihime was overcome by a massive yawn. Bringing her hand to her mouth, the teenager wavered slightly from the lack of support. Concerned, the Arrancar took hold of Orihime's thin arms, and brought the back of her head to rest gently against his shoulder. As he did when the redhead had been asleep, Ulquiorra stroked Orihime's hair gently, soothingly. The girl closed her eyes and exhaled tiredly.
Tatsuki, noticing the scene, raised her voice. "Have ya been sleeping, Orihime?"
"Yah," Orihime murmured, "but not well. I keep having this same dream about this king with the most beautiful green ey-" Abruptly, the redhead cut herself off as she realized what she was saying. Biting her lower lip, Orihime cursed her bad habit of letting out secrets.
"A king," Tatsuki questioned, an eyebrow quirked. Had Orihime been about to say what she thought she had been about to say? For her to have stopped herself… Well, it seemed that the attraction wasn't purely subconscious after all…
"Yah," the redhead repeated with a nod, blushing slightly. The phrase "and then there's the nightmares" went unsaid.
"Well, either that or I'm pregnant… I'm also really hungry…"
Tatsuki rolled her eyes. "You're always hungry."
"What does it mean to be pregnant?" The question mildly startled everyone, but Orihime literally jumped from her reclined position, suddenly wide awake. Propped up on her knees, her orange hair shaking violently along with her head, she faced Ulquiorra with wildly-waving hands.
"It doesn't mean anything! Nothing at all! I don't even know where that came from! Forget I even mentioned it!" Ulquiorra just slightly raised a thin eyebrow. He had seen her behave like this before…
"It has something to do with 'sex'," the Arrancar deduced, eyes serious and piercing. What was it that was so important that Orihime would try to keep it from him?
Orihime's eyes, by now, had become saucers, and her face was precisely as red as a beet. She tried to get something intelligible out, but could only seem to splutter incoherently. By now, the others had tuned in to the conversation, and were staring with intrigue, repulsion, and mild humour, at the scene before them.
"Orihime, what have you been teaching this guy," Tatsuki chided in an exasperated tone. The redhead ignored her completely.
"What is it that you are attempting to hide from me, Orihime," Ulquiorra's melodic voice sounded, completely serious. When he received no articulate answer, the Arrancar resorted to his back-up. "Even if you do not tell me, I will discover the meaning of those words in the 'dictionary'." Who would have thought that a Japanese class would prove so useful?
The redhead looked as if she were about to have a heart-attack. How could he mention something like that in front of her friends? In front of Ichigo! What would he think of her now?
And what would Ulquiorra do with this particular piece of knowledge? If he were to discover that sex wasn't a lowly, reprehensible act, would he give up trying to contain his urges? Would Orihime be able to stave of a horny and resolute Ulquiorra? Something told her she wouldn't. The teenager's internal ravings, however, were cut short by a very-much unwelcome train of thought.
Unwanted images began to surface in Orihime's mind. What if they did end up having sex? What if Orihime had somehow gotten pregnant? The redhead's overactive imagination conjured images of a baby with snow-white skin, charcoal-black hair, and stunning green eyes. As she imagined all the adventures that the three of them would have together, of them becoming the first father-mother-daughter drag racing team to hit the national stage, Orihime didn't notice when Ulquiorra got up and walked away, fully intending on finding the closest Japanese dictionary.
Breaking from her daze with a start, Orihime belatedly sprang from her seat and chased after a retreating Ulquiorra. "No! It really isn't interesting! Not at all! You won't like it!" Orihime's frantic wails faded away as she pursued her former captor, running frantically down the stairs.
Tatsuki sighed. Man, there was something just plain weird about their relationship. Orihime opened up around Ulquiorra in a way that she didn't for anyone else. And, judging from that scene just a moment ago, things had already gotten pretty awkward for Orihime.
Oh well, Tatsuki thought, at least they're enjoying themselves. Looking around to the other people seated beside her, drenched in an uncomfortable silence, the teenager held back a snigger. Can't say the same for these guys, though…
As a welcome reprieve from the tension, Rukia's phone rang at the same moment that Ichigo's badge blared out the alert. Abruptly, the shinigami snapped out of the daze that she had been in all day and
pulled out the phone. The next second, it was open and the location of the Hollow was memorized. Ichigo reached for the badge, and swiftly dove out of his body. Rukia popped a Chappy into her mouth.
"Come on, Ichigo," Rukia yelled, and the Vizard flew to her side. Partners again in a way that transcended all tension and division, the two raced from the roof in the direction of the Hollow.
Struggling and panting could be heard from one of the school's second-story hallways. The turbulent clouds outside casted dispersed grey-blue light into the hall, while the rising humidity added a certain weight to the air. At the center of all of this, Ulquiorra and Orihime were in a rather compromising position against the lockers.
"Alright, Ulquiorra," Orihime conceded, physically blocking Ulquiorra off from her locker. Of course, in the vacant hallway, he was groping her mercilessly, his hands roving over every inch of her body that he was allowed to. Unable to claim a breaking of the contract, and unable to run away lest Ulquiorra get his hands on her dictionary, Orihime could only give in. "We'll buy a bigger bed." Ulquiorra eyed her impassively for a moment.
"I no longer demand the purchase of a larger bed," the Arrancar stated simply, and Orihime almost blanched in confusion. In her experience, Ulquiorra didn't give up so easily when he really wanted something…
"What are you planning," Orihime questioned, voice openly coloured with suspicion. Ulquiorra continued to glare steadily.
"Why are you keeping secrets from me," the Arrancar asked coldly in return, almost challengingly. Orihime stared back at him, her gaze wary.
A densely-charged atmosphere, reminiscent of their times as guard and prisoner, drowned the murky hallway. Volumes of wordless communication were conveyed before Ulquiorra decided to suckle Orihime's neck, and Orihime decided that this was a fight that she'd be willing to lose.
After all, if it made him happy, what was a little sensual contact?
He'd learn to contain his urges, and she would have done a favour for another human being.
There was no harm in it.
…Right?
Rukia heaved a heavy sigh, her body tingling from the massive amount of spirit energy she had just released from her palms. To her side, Ichigo swung his ebony blade, dealing the finishing blow to the Hollow. With a horrible screech, the tortured soul disintegrated, fading into the grey-black sky.
"Huh," Ichigo breathed, wiping sweat from his furrowed brow. Rukia, trying to keep up appearances, forced herself to look up at her orange-haired friend. "This definitely isn't normal."
The shinigami diverted her eyes. The beads of sweat making a path down his strong neck, Ichigo's smouldering brown eyes; it was too much for her. She needed to think about something safe, she needed a distraction.
"This is odd," Rukia replied, her eyes searching for something interesting along the now-empty street. "Not only have Hollows been appearing at an increased frequency, but they are also much more powerful than usual."
"Do ya think it might have something to do with Aizen," Ichigo questioned, eyes wide, eager to pursue any sort of conversation with his closest nakama.
"None of these Hollows have been modified, so it isn't likely that they are acting for Aizen," Rukia brooded, a foreboding feeling creeping into her gut. "I would think that the appearances of these powerful Hollows would have more to do with the death of Aizen and his Espada."
"So," Ichigo concluded, "all we can do is ride it out?"
Rukia was silent a moment, considering. She still couldn't meet Ichigo's probing eyes. "Ulquiorra probably knows something about how Hollows in Hueco Mundo would react to Aizen's death. When we get back, I'll talk to him privately." Rukia turned on her heels and headed back in the direction of the school. Ichigo frowned.
"I'll go with you," Ichigo offered as nonchalantly as he could. He knew she'd be insulted to know that he was worried about her.
Rukia frowned; as if it wasn't difficult enough for her to always be around the object of her unrequited affection as it was. "That isn't necessary, Ichigo." Rukia's cold tone was a stark contrast to the warmth in her chest. She cursed herself for being flustered over the Vizard's protectiveness.
Ichigo's frown grew even deeper. "Listen, Rukia, I know that you're strong, but Ulquiorra's above Captain-class. He's dangerous, so why can't you just swallow your pride and let me protect you for once?"
"I'm not your damsel in distress, Ichigo. I can handle myself," Rukia countered, but then immediately regretted her words. She wasn't a damsel in distress, but she still dreamt of her happy ending with her knight in shining black armour. Rukia felt the need to amend. "Besides, Ulquiorra isn't going to hurt anyone. You've seen for yourself how much he's changed."
"That doesn't matter," Ichigo asserted, raising his voice. Why couldn't she understand that he was worried about her? "For all we know, he could be faking it! I'm not going to risk getting you killed!"
"I'm not going to get killed, because Ulquiorra would never hurt me," Rukia yelled back. Ulquiorra was in love with Orihime, and nothing Rukia or anyone else could say or do would make Ulquiorra risk losing her. Rukia understood that perfectly. And Ichigo would understand it too if he loved me back… Suddenly, a heavy sadness weighed down on Rukia's shoulders. She sped up her pace, leaving Ichigo to walk alone.
Ichigo heaved a frustrated sigh. Rukia sure was keen on talking to Ulquiorra alone…
The orange-haired Vizard jolted to a stop. And Rukia had been the one to demand that no one bother him. And she had also mentioned him the night prior, when she asked about whether he would approve of a relationship between Ulquiorra and Orihime… And then the petite shinigami had worn eyes so sad… As if the thought of Ulquiorra and Orihime together hurt her deep…
Realization hit Ichigo like a ton of bricks. He swung his head up to stare at his closest friend with wide, incredulous, furious eyes. No fucking way…
By the end of the lunch period, Ulquiorra and Orihime were still enjoying each other, at what was now their shared locker. (Of course, Ulquiorra had received a locker of his own, but, unsurprisingly, he refused to use it.) Once people began drifting back into the halls, Ulquiorra had stepped back from Orihime and they easily began talking again. The two continued to converse, and Orihime visibly grew more and more excited as they got their books and approached the classroom.
"The next class is my favourite," Orihime cheered with a smile, as she and her roommate walked into the already-full classroom. The room was larger than most, and the desks were arranged in squares of four. Most students were already seated, chatting with their neighbours and friends, without a care in the world. A few kids were throwing crumpled balls of paper at each other from across the room. Large, clear windows extended over the far wall, offering a view of turbulent storm clouds outside.
"Art?" Somehow, Ulquiorra wasn't surprised. Looking around the bustling classroom, the Arrancar caught sight of the teacher, a slender woman, probably in her early forty's, with unkempt frizzy brown hair. She was looking over the work of a meek student, as she raved about how art was supposed to be an expression of the artist's soul, and commanded the student in a passionate tone to release her inner genius.
Ulquiorra knew right away that he wasn't going to enjoy this particular class.
"Ayashi-sensei," Orihime squealed as she skipped towards the teacher. Upon hearing her name, the middle-aged woman looked up in surprise and then squealed 'Inoue!'.
"Where have you been all this time, my top student," Ayashi-sensei exclaimed when said redhead popped up before her, a big smile on her face, as she held her hands together cutely behind her back.
"I've been on vacation!"
"Wow, that's marvellous, where to," the teacher questioned, her smile just as excited as Orihime's.
"Canada," the girl lied easily.
The teacher wore a look of childish awe. "That's so cool! But wasn't it cold there?"
"Just a little, but the secret to staying warm is," Orihime explained, her index finger pointing up to the ceiling. The teacher held her breath in anticipation. "To dress in layers!" Ayashi-sensei clapped her thin hands in appreciation, gaudy blue bracelets clattering noisily.
"Did you bring me any souvenirs," the childish teacher teased.
Orihime's smile got even wider. "No, but look who came back with me!" Orihime took hold of Ulquiorra's hand and pulled him forward to greet the teacher. "This is Ulquiorra Schiffer, my friend from Canada who has come to live in Japan!"
The teacher looked her new student over from head to toe, gazing appraisingly at the tear-streaks that cascaded from Ulquiorra's shocking green eyes. In a graceful motion, the Arrancar raised his arm, offering the principal's note to the quirky teacher. Ayashi-sensei and Orihime stared at Ulquiorra with expectant eyes, obviously waiting for him to introduce himself.
When he didn't, the teacher took the paper from the Arrancar's pallid hand and turned her animated gaze to Orihime. "The strong, silent type, isn't he? How nice!"
Orihime laughed nervously, scratching the back of her head. "Well, not really…"
Once the teacher had read the note, she handed it back to Ulquiorra, and he made his way to the least-occupied corner of the classroom, sitting with his back to the closed window. Waving enthusiastically to the teacher, and then to Yasutora, Uryuu, and Tatsuki across the room, Orihime followed him.
"Isn't Ayashi-sensei so cool?" Orihime gushed as she took a seat next to the unsmiling Ulquiorra.
"No," Orihime's smile dropped suddenly, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"You… don't like her…?"
"No," Ulquiorra repeated, looking through the class supplies. What was the point of having so many pencils? "She is a lunatic."
Offended now, Orihime crossed her arms beneath her. "She is not," the girl huffed indignantly.
"Yes, she is," Ulquiorra countered. "And you are foolish for looking up to her."
As the two continued to bicker, the class was called into order. Ayashi-sensei was just about to begin explaining the project for the day, when Kurosaki Ichigo and Kuchiki Rukia walked into the classroom, trying not to pant for air. From the sweat on both their brows, it seemed that they had just done a whole lot of running.
"May I ask why you two are late," the teacher demanded, her eyebrows raised in expectation.
"We… got lost…?" Ichigo attempted. A few students sniggered.
"Oh," the teacher accepted, no longer glaring. "Okay. Take a seat."
Immediately, Rukia ghosted past Ichigo, and sat at the desk opposite Orihime's. The redhead smiled and waved merrily, and Rukia forced herself to muster a smile. A moment later, a grumbling Ichigo went to sit next to the petite shinigami, shooting an angry glare at Ulquiorra as he sat down. Figures she'd want to sit next to him, Ichigo seethed bitterly. Of course, the Vizard didn't realize that those seats were the only free seats left.
"Now, as I was saying, for today's sketch, I want you to draw what you despise the most is all of the worlds! I am asking you to bear your soul! You must infuse your work with all of the passion and…." The sensei continued to rave in an overbearingly dramatic voice, until she suddenly stopped and decided that she needed coffee.
"Hmm…" Orihime sounded as she raised her eyes in contemplation. "What do I hate the most in all of the worlds… It's really hard to tell, because I don't really dislike anything…"
"I am certain that you can think of something, Orihime," Ulquiorra commented. Orihime leaned over to his side of the desk.
"Ulquiorra, what are you going to draw," Orihime asked innocently. Weren't Hollows supposed to be full of anger and hatred? She was afraid to know.
"I harbour no hatred towards anything." Orihime raised an incredulous eyebrow, searching her brain for the more distant memories of the less friendly Ulquiorra.
"What about trash?" Ulquiorra shot Orihime a look. He would have rolled his eyes.
"Trash are precisely that, trash. They are dirt beneath my feet, and do not even merit my consideration," Ulquiorra stated blandly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It took him by surprise that Orihime's eyes turned sad, her lower lip quivering slightly.
"Even me," Orihime couldn't help but ask, her stupid, annoying inferiority complex nagging her again.
Ulquiorra responded by looking at her as if she had gone mad. "You are not trash." Ichigo was trash. Uryuu was trash. Ayashi was trash. Orihime was definitely not trash.
"But… you said, that time-"
"I lied," Ulquiorra interrupted impatiently. He hated how this girl could be so weak sometimes. Why couldn't she defend herself like she defended her useless friends? "Why would I want to spend the rest of my existence with you if you were trash?" Orihime smiled and blushed, while Ichigo held himself back from going bankai on the Arrancar's ass. How could he say that so carelessly in front of Rukia? Damn cold, insensitive bastard.
"Oh," Orihime replied, as she continued to search her brain. She had detected some animosity… "What about Grimmjow? Don't you hate him?" Ulquiorra paused.
"Grimmjow is indeed an annoyance, but he too is too insignificant for me to regard with dislike," Ulquiorra intoned dispassionately.
Orihime took the Arrancar's words into consideration. "Okay, well then, what has made you the angriest lately?"
"Ishida Uryuu," Ulquiorra replied immediately. Ichigo, although he had been trying very hard to block out the conversation across from him and concentrate on not pouncing on Ulquiorra like a protective mama lioness, cocked an eyebrow.
"What did Ishida-kun ever do," Orihime demanded, indignant.
"He made you cry yesterday," the raven-haired teenager stated simply. Orihime blushed again.
"Okay, then it isn't Ishida-kun that you dislike…" Orihime began.
"…I hate seeing you cry," Ulquiorra realized, as Orihime cheered him on encouragingly with a 'there you go!'. That made sense, he supposed, seeing as how all the powerful emotions he had ever felt, without exception, revolved around Orihime. Because these new feelings were still so raw, he very often couldn't even begin to decipher them.
Across from Ulquiorra, Ichigo rolled his eyes. They were already finishing each other's sentences. It really was ridiculous… A moment later, Ichigo's concerned eyes wandered to the girl beside him. Her eyebrows were stitched together, her large violet eyes sad, as she stared intently at her horribly-drawn sketch.
She was already at the colouring stage, filling in a lot of green and a little orange in the background. In the foreground, there were thick grey lines that stretched from one side of the sheet to another, shaped vaguely like a fence. Ichigo's frown deepened, the presence and symbolism of the orange trees eluding him completely.
Diverting his eyes in frustration, Ichigo's gaze landed right in front of him, to Ulquiorra's sketch. The Arrancar's hand moved swiftly across the large page, never hesitating and never erasing. His movements were mechanical, but the product was spectacular. He saw Orihime, with tears in her determined grey eyes, her lips pursed together in pain. One of her hands was raised in a threatening gesture that was also impossibly frail.
Orihime, meanwhile, was drawing a barred window, and through it, a reversed crescent moon. She wore an expression of intense concentration, her peach fingers running messily through her long silken hair, her pink tongue peeking out from the side of her mouth. Several times, Ichigo caught Ulquiorra staring at her. As the Arrancar drew, he would sneak peeks at Orihime's chaotic sketch, at her dishevelled hair, at her determined eyes, and, at a disturbing frequency, the redhead's open mouth and little pink tongue.
Disgusted and enraged, Ichigo wondered if Ulquiorra was aware of Rukia's feelings for him. If the Arrancar was aware, and he was consciously acting like this in front of the petite shinigami, Ichigo wouldn't be able to hold himself back from cutting that heartless bastard into tiny little pieces. Not that he was doing very well at containing his anger, Ichigo realized as he looked down at the pencil that had just snapped under the force of his grip.
At that moment, there was only one thing that Ichigo could think of drawing. Beyond his weakness, helplessness, and insufficiency. Beyond Aizen, beyond all the regret that has amassed over the course of his short, sixteen-year life. Beyond even his inner Hollow, the bane of his existence. Ichigo brought the tip of his pencil to the paper.
A few minutes passed in content silence as Orihime finished up her rather simple drawing. She knew that Ayashi-sensei would probably be expecting something a lot more detailed and creative than a barred window, but it was really the best thing to represent everything she had hated about Las Noches. As Orihime was wondering about the perspective of the sketch, Ulquiorra spoke.
"I have completed the assignment," the former Espada declared sombrely. Orihime looked up from her work to take a look at Ulquiorra's drawing, and was thoroughly amazed.
"Wow, Ulquiorra! It's beautiful! It looks just like a picture," the girl raved, as she clapped her hands together appraisingly. The Arrancar just sat quietly, trying to hide the feelings that the redhead's words were stirring in him. His pride was like that of a grade-schooler who had just earned a sticker.
"Oh, I've got an idea, Ulquiorra," Orihime exclaimed. "Can you draw me as a cat-person?" Ulquiorra mechanically turned his head to face Orihime, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"Why would you want a drawing of yourself as a cat-person," the tear-streaked teenager intoned, mild bewilderment evident in his deep eyes. Orihime almost bounced from her seat in eagerness.
"Well, you see, I once had this dream where-" The girl was abruptly interrupted by an unmistakable shaking of the dimension.
"Oh, no," Orihime gasped, the familiar feeling bringing her to another place and time.
Ulquiorra recognized it first for what it was, a ripping of the space-time, the opening of Garganta. From the dark abyss emerged a Hollow of unmistakable power. After a long, long half-second, the blaring siren of Ichigo's shinigami badge screamed 'Hollow-Hollow-Hollow'. Seven people simultaneously rose from their chairs. Ulquiorra, collected and aloof, ghosted around his desk to stand before Ichigo.
"Sensei, I gotta go –" Ichigo started, already starting to dash for the door, when Ulquiorra's hand took a firm grip of the collar of his shirt. The surprised Vizard turned to glare, while struggling on the Arrancar's solid hold. "Ulquiorra, what the fu –"
"Listen carefully, Kurosaki," the Arrancar spoke in a quiet voice for Ichigo and Rukia, so that the ignorant bystanders couldn't hear. Inconspicuously dragging the disgruntled teenager to the window behind him, Ulquiorra reached his free arm around to open the large window. "The Hollow that has just arrived in the Material World is an Adjucas with a small, winged form. He is fast, although his defensive power is weak. A deadly airborne poison is excreted from his feathers, therefore you must not approach him too closely."
"Wha –"
"Have you retained this information," Ulquiorra questioned calmly, while making a show of raising his fist in a menacing gesture. Ichigo nodded, confused and frantic. "Good. Now remove yourself from your body." Ichigo just managed to dive out of his physical form in time to avoid Ulquiorra's solid punch to his jaw.
Rukia, keeping in mind Ulquiorra's advice, was out of her body in a second and flew out the open window. Ichigo, perched on the sill, eyes determined, threw a strained 'thanks' behind his back to the impassive Arrancar before he jumped out to follow his shinigami comrade.
Dropping the limp body uncaringly, Ulquiorra turned towards Yasutora and Uryuu, ignoring the shrieks of the sensei and the students. "I believe that I have overreacted. Ishida, Sado, please go offer your aid to Kurosaki." The two nodded, understanding the situation immediately.
Quickly, they ran from the classroom in pursuit of their friend, Yasutora grabbing Ichigo's body. As the tall burly man slung Ichigo's empty shell over his shoulder, he caught sight of the single sheet on Ichigo's desk, and the distinct form of a petite young woman's retreating form. Allowing a smile to reach his lips, Yasutora dashed out the classroom door, quickly catching up to Uryuu.
"Ulquiorra," Orihime pleaded at the Arrancar's side, obviously confused and desperate for information. "What's going on? You know the Hollow that's just appeared?"
"Yes," Ulquiorra intoned calmly, as he returned to his seat. Of course, he ignored the sensei's high-pitched demand that he go to the Principal's office. "I came across him in Hueco Mundo several decades ago."
"Ulquiorra Schiffer," Ayashi-sensei mispronounced, shrieking into the ashen-skinned teenager's ear. "Don't you dare ignore me! Go to the Principal's office immediately!" Finally, Ulquiorra decided to turn his gaze to the thick-browed woman.
"It would be very irresponsible of me to leave Orihime unprotected," the Arrancar stated blandly, taking hold of the redhead's hand for emphasis.
"This is all a misunderstanding, Ayashi-sensei," Orihime interjected, frustrated at this important conversation being interrupted. She didn't like doing it, but the redhead lied on the spot. "Ulquiorra was just defending me when Kurosaki-kun said some inappropriate things!" The teacher eyed her incredulously. "…it's a difference of culture!"
"We'll, Inoue, if you're so adamant about defending him," Ayashi-sensei concluded, still seething, "then why don't you go with him to the Office?" Ulquiorra immediately stood to his feet, and dragged Orihime out of the class behind him, his graceful pace so brisk that she almost tripped on her own feet as she was pulled.
As soon as the door was closed and the two were safely out in the empty hallway, Orihime turned to her roommate, frantic.
"We've got to go help them! Kurosaki-kun and Kuchiki-san could be in trouble by now," the redhead exclaimed, ready to make a run for it. Ulquiorra's hand, however, held hers tightly.
"There is no risk, Orihime," the Arrancar stated, his firm voice reassuring. Cold emerald eyes fixated on Orihime's terrified grey orbs. "I have given Kurosaki Ichigo and Kuchiki Rukia all the information that is needed to counter the Adjucas' most effective attacks. Defeating such an opponent will be elementary for someone of their levels." When he spoke, it was a simple statement of fact. There was no reason for her to be so concerned.
However, Ulquiorra knew immediately that the redhead wasn't remotely satisfied with that answer. The pallid man heaved an internal sigh. "Both Kurosaki Ichigo and Kuchiki Rukia are skilled warriors who have defeated opponents far more formidable than this lowly Adjucas. My warning was not essential to their survival, and served only to ensure that they remain uninjured." And, of course, to earn him some trust…
"But why is an Adjucas even in the Material World," Orihime demanded, although more to herself than to Ulquiorra. She instinctively approached the former Espada, almost leaning into his willowy form. "Something weird must be going on…"
Ulquiorra wrapped his arm around Orihime's shoulder, holding her close. "Do not allow it to worry you, Orihime. I will take care of this problem as soon as its root cause has manifested itself." The redhead looked up from Ulquiorra's chest, eyes revealing plain bafflement.
"What do you mean, Ulquio-" Orihime started, before she heard the door slam shut behind her, and footsteps rapidly approaching her.
"Orihime," Tatsuki shouted, possessively yanking the busty teenager from Ulquiorra's hold. "I just ditched class, let's get outta here before Ayashi notices." Tatsuki tugged Orihime, who tugged Ulquiorra, and the three ended up half-way down the staircase at the end of the hall.
"What the hell is going on," the karate adept demanded once they had reached a safe distance. Orihime brought the tips of her index fingers together before her, playing with them cutely.
"Well, nothing out of the ordinary, actually…" When Orihime looked up and was met with Tatsuki's sceptical look, her balled fists positioned rebelliously on her hips, she amended her statement. "The Hollow's just a little stronger than usual, so Ulquiorra gave Kurosaki-kun and Kuchiki-san some advice…"
"Out of the goodness of his heart," Tatsuki mocked dryly, eyeing Ulquiorra with suspicion.
"For Orihime's sake," the Arrancar countered in perfect monotone.
Tatsuki scoffed. "Sure."
Silence fell heavy on the group, as Tatsuki and Ulquiorra stared each other down. As expected, Tatsuki blinked first, losing the first contest. She came back with vengeance a moment later, only to lose after another thirty tense seconds. One could almost see the steam bursting from Tatsuki's ears.
Five minutes later, the score was ten to nothing, with no end in sight. Orihime finally gathered the courage to break the heavy, deadly silence. "Um… Ulquiorra and I should be going to the Principal's office…"
Tatsuki blinked, her furrowed brow relaxing the moment she turned to Orihime. "Oh, yah. You're actually going to go?"
"Well, yah," Orihime giggled, curbing her back forward and offering her best friend a goofy grin. "I don't want Ulquiorra to get into too much trouble so soon…"
Tatsuki sighed as she rolled her eyes. Ulquiorra glared down emotionlessly at the sheepish sitting redhead, obviously not caring in the least about getting in trouble with breakable human trash. Of all the guys for her to fall in love with…
"So…"
The principal looked from the willowy, pale, tear-streaked Ulquiorra Schiffer, to the bubbly, peach-skinned, weakly-smiling Inoue Orihime. "Schiffer, I trust that we will not have a repeat of this incident?"
Although he dealt with situations such as these every day, it was the first time that the offending student actually genuinely scared him. Something about the Schiffer kid sent chills up the balding man's spine, and it probably had something to do with their orientation meeting the day before.
Ulquiorra glared just a little harder, his sharp eyes stabbing. Orihime looked nervous. "There will be as many repeats of this incident as I deem necessary."
The principal tried to swallow the lump in his throat, oppressed by a sudden, inexplicable smothering pressure in the room. He could have sworn the temperature had just dropped by at least five degrees Celsius.
The bell rang just then, signalling the end of the period, and Ulquiorra gracefully rose from his seat. Orihime was not far behind him, sending nervous looks at the principal over her shoulder.
The moment the two left the room, the strange pressure was gone, and the temperature immediately returned to normal. The man eagerly took in a gasp of air. From outside his office door, the principal heard a gentle chiding female voice.
"You really shouldn't do that…"