Tales of the Arrancar: Three
Summary: Ulquiorra has a question. Szayel and Nnoitra think they have answers. Grimmjow wants to kill them all. Gin is having way too much fun. Orihime wants none of this. And Aizen wonders what he ever saw in such morons…
Main cast: Ulquiorra, Szayel, Grimmjow, Nnoitra, Aizen, Gin, Orihime, Wonderweiss, Kaname.
Pairings: A hint of Ulqui/Orihime at the end.
Overall warnings: Grimmjow's potty mouth and Szayel's and Nnoitra's stupidity. Consider yourself warned.
Misunderstanding
"Hey, watch out for the—"
CRASH.
"…Never mind.
"You're heading straight for the—"
BOOM.
"…Forget it.
"Look out for the—"
BANG.
"…Too late.
"Stop! There's a—"
CRASH. BOOM. BANG. SCREE.
"…That's…gonna leave a mark."
Orihime sighed and, to her left, Gin giggled like an overexcited schoolgirl as Ulquiorra lifted Grimmjow right off the ground and flung him across the cavernous chamber. The airborne Espada impacted the wall with such tremendous force a two-foot wide crack split the stone from floor to ceiling. Grimmjow lay sprawled on his back, dazed, for only an instant before he leapt to his feet again. He stomped up to Ulquiorra and recommenced to shriek in the other Arrancar's face, his voice magnified to a chaotic cacophony.
Neither Gin nor Orihime found they could comprehend much of the violent verbal barrage which followed. Shameful incompetence was remarked upon. Level of intelligence was questioned. Dismemberment was threatened. The anal cavities were suggested as storage areas for various unpleasant objects. Both Espada were invited to indulge in copious amounts of self-pleasure, or, in the event this was not to the satisfaction of said Espada, to engage in rather indecent acts with their respective mothers (Orihime did not know if Arrancar had mothers, but at the moment she thought this point might be moot). Rude gestures were offered and returned. A continuous overlapping stream of obscure obscenities Orihime had never heard and whose meanings she did not truly wish to discover flowed back and forth. She even believed she heard mention of peanuts and jellybeans, although she did not see how such foods might be relevant to the current situation.
Most of this, incredibly, originated from Grimmjow's side.
Throughout the majority of the exchange Ulquiorra merely stood there, pallid and neutral as the soft beams of moonlight which perpetually illuminated Hueco Mundo. He seemed entirely undaunted by Grimmjow's threats and admonitions; if anything, he looked rather bored, like this were a business conference in which he had little or no interest. Occasionally, when Grimmjow had to pause for breath, he attempted to interject, but was always quickly overridden.
"Don't think I'm going to let you to take all the credit when it was me who did the work—"
"I—"
"I'm the one who fought the Soul Reapers, you just stood around looking pretty with your thumb up your ass—"
"You—"
"You didn't get involved at all until I was just about to make the kill, then you decided to jump in and stop me—"
"Don't—"
"You went on and on about how that wasn't part of Aizen's orders, not part of the plan, but I know the truth, you just wanted to steal my glory and make me look like a fool—"
"I—"
"You talk about how you're just doing what you're told, but you're as greedy as the rest of us, you're worse than the rest of us put together, you lying avaricious petty thief sorry excuse for an Espada!"
No. It still did not make any sense to Orihime. Nor was it clear to Aizen Sousuke himself, apparently. He sat upon his unadorned white throne, drumming the fingertips of his left hand on the arm, his chin rested in his right palm. His eye twitched with every word uttered, and he seemed ready to seize both Espada and strangle them on the spot.
"My, my," Gin piped in a rather disturbing singsong. "They make me all nostalgic. They remind me of when Byakuya and Soi Fon used to fight. Ah, how they screamed at each other! You'd never hear Byakuya shout that way now. They'd always end up making out behind the barracks. Think these two will do the same?"
Orihime chose not to respond.
"They can have my lab, if that's the way they're going to go."
Orihime whirled and found herself face to face with none other than Szayel Aporro Granz, his amber eyes alight, his full lips curved in a delighted smirk. Not long ago Orihime would have been shocked by the Espada's sudden appearance, but by now she had grown more or less accustomed to the unexpected, unannounced comings and goings of the Arrancar. Szayel moved to her side. She did not tense, as she might have in her earlier days in Los Noches, and he winked at her.
Meanwhile, Grimmjow had graduated to further endeavors to cause Ulquiorra physical harm, but was not having much success. Ulquiorra evaded each punch and kick and headbutt with ease, his visage unchanged. Grimmjow's insults slowly turned to inarticulate, animalistic roars of pure rage.
"Why are they fighting now?" Szayel questioned, though he did not sound like he particularly cared.
Orihime shrugged. There was, in truth, only one logical reason for all this violence she could infer.
"They fight like a married couple," she muttered.
She had not intended to actually be heard, especially not by Grimmjow and Ulquiorra themselves, who should not have been able to hear anything over Grimmjow anyway. However, both Arrancars had extremely attuned ears when it came to something which might constitute an affront, and almost at once total silence fell over the palace.
Grimmjow gaped at Orihime in frank astonishment, one fist captured in the gentle but implacable grip of his would-be victim. Ulquiorra merely looked bemused.
"My, my!" Szayel exclaimed, and Orihime reflected how eerily alike Gin the rose-haired Espada sounded. "They do quarrel like old spouses, don't they?"
Grimmjow still appeared incapable of coherent speech. Ulquiorra's confused expression lingered, as if he was not quite sure what was going on. Szayel regarded them both, waiting for a reaction, smiling pleasantly.
Dead quiet ensued for the next two and half seconds. Naturally, the one to break it was none other than…
"A MARRIED couple, you no-good four-eyed pink-headed mad scientist wannabe piece of shit slutty MAN-WHORE! A freakin' MARRIED COUPLE?"
…yes, Grimmjow.
Orihime blinked, astounded. Gin whistled appreciatively. Aizen ceased the restless drum of his fingers against his chair. Szayel, however, smirked slyly at the irate Arrancar.
"So…when is the honeymoon?"
Grimmjow turned from almost as white as Ulquiorra to deep scarlet with alarming speed. A dangerous vein pulsed in his temple.
"Honeymoon?" he seethed. "You mean you want me to get down on my knees and propose to this gothic clown ghost vampire wannabe cheap horror-movie prop zombie freak?"
"Have any plans for kids yet?" Szayel inquired blithely.
"KIDS?" Grimmjow looked on the verge of an eruption. The vein in his brow was ready to pop. His face had now become an ugly shade of purple. "I'LL MAKE IT SO YOU CAN NEVER HAVE KIDS, YOU WORTHLESS GENDER-CONFUSED PIG!"
"Is that the problem, Grimmjow?" Szayel asked, with honest curiosity. "Are you a eunuch, perhaps?"
"Why, you—" He whipped out his sword, so fast Orihime did not even see the motion, and Szayel immediately drew his, but before either of them could initiate the battle Ulquiorra spoke up.
"Where do babies come from?"
Grimmjow, who had begun to charge at Szayel, tripped on his own two feet and fell face-first to the floor. Szayel nearly did the same, but grabbed onto Orihime at the last second to steady himself. Orihime stared incredulously at Ulquiorra. Aizen, too, seemed unable to believe his ears.
Grimmjow, from his new ground-level perspective, glared up at Ulquiorra. "Don't ask stupid questions, you stupid—"
"Grimmjow," Szayel said. He looked amazed.
Grimmjow shifted his fiery gaze to him. "What?"
Szayel still regarded Ulquiorra, open-mouthed. "I really think he doesn't know."
Ulquiorra glanced between the two, his head cocked slightly in a wordless inquisitive gesture. Grimmjow started to realize the truth as well, and for the second time that day he was too astonished to speak.
Ulquiorra turned expectantly to Szayel.
Szayel recovered with a speed he alone could be capable of. He approached Ulquiorra and slipped an arm around his slim shoulders. "Well, you see, Ulqui, all creatures in this world are divided into two categories: male and female. You and I are male. Orihime is female, as you can clearly tell from her…" He cast a furtive glance at the human girl. She smiled tentatively. "…Rather prominent endowments. Now, the category in which we would place Grimmjow is doubtful—"
"Why, you—" Grimmjow lunged at Szayel, but Ulquiorra reached out and snatched his throat. The white-skinned Espada held his struggling captive suspended several inches off the ground, apparently impervious to the continued blows that struck his chest and arms. He never took his eyes off Szayel.
"So, you see, Ulqui, my love, when a male and female like each other very much, they find a sufficient room with a nice bed, or maybe just a capacious table—"
"Or the desk in Yamamoto's office," Gin put in. The others looked at him. Aizen in particular appeared faintly disturbed by the implications in his fellow Soul Reaper's statement.
"Oh, come on, Lord Aizen," Gin said. "Don't tell me you never tried it at least once—"
Aizen coughed into his hand and glanced the other way with an embarrassed look which did nothing to convince his companions he had not indeed attempted such a thing.
"So," Szayel resumed, after a few hushed moments, "when the two Hollows in question find a good bed or table…or place on the roof of Los Noches above Aizen's quarters…"
Aizen now seemed as if he might be sick.
"They proceed to remove their garments, and then…well, here, let me demonstrate with Grimmjow."
Grimmjow blanched. He fought frantically against Ulquiorra's hold. His eyes bulged. Yet Ulquiorra did not let go, and Grimmjow could only watch, helpless, as Szayel advanced. Rather than strip him and violate him in a number of unspeakable ways, as he expected, however, Szayel did something utterly inexplicable: he stuck his hand right through the hole in Grimmjow's midsection.
Grimmjow grew still, mouth agape in an expression of stunned incomprehension which would have been comical in less peculiar circumstances. Gin whistled. Aizen blinked. Orihime did not know quite how to react, whether she should be disturbed or relieved. Ulquiorra displayed no outward response at all. He merely observed, the faintest hint of interest in his diamantine emerald orbs.
"So," Szayel continued in his most scientific, no-nonsense tone, undeterred by the general astonishment of his audience, "once the hand is inserted, the Hollow in question must then rotate it inside the hole, clockwise if it is the right hand, counterclockwise if it is the left, no more than ten times and no less than five. Are you with me so far?"
Ulquiorra nodded.
"Good. You do it like so." He began to circle the periphery of the hollow area in Grimmjow's abdomen in careful, gradual revolutions. Grimmjow started to struggle again, but Ulquiorra's strength far exceeded his; he might as well have stayed still.
"You're doing it wrong," Aizen spoke up abruptly.
Szayel stopped and diverted his attention to the dark-haired Soul Reaper, startled. "Excuse me?"
"You're doing it wrong," Aizen repeated. "That's your right hand, but you're turning it counterclockwise. It's supposed to be clockwise, isn't it?"
"No, this is my left."
"No, Szayel, that's your right hand."
"It's my left, Lord Aizen."
"That's the right hand!"
"It's your right," Szayel corrected with exaggerated patience, as if he were trying to tell an obdurate two-year-old one and one makes two and not three. "It's my left."
"Where did you learn your directions?" Aizen scoffed.
"Where did you learn yours?" retorted the Eighth Espada.
"I'm telling you, Szayel, you're doing it wrong."
"And I'm telling you, my lord, you are wrong."
"Are you calling your master a liar?"
"No, I'm calling my master an idiot!"
Aizen looked incensed. "Are you trying to get fired again?"
"Are you trying to look like a moron?" Szayel shot back.
"I could turn your ass right back into a Gillian before you can say 'brainless blob,' science boy!"
"Bring it on, Soul King wannabe!"
"My, my," Gin murmured to Orihime. "Looks like we'll have to prepare for two weddings."
Again, Orihime decided it was safer to ignore him.
"Um, Szayel," she called diffidently.
Szayel took a long time to reply. Finally, he shifted his burning gaze from Aizen to Orihime. "Yes, Princess?" The epithet was not derisive; while most of the other Arrancar used this pun on her name in a manner intended to demean her, Szayel always addressed her as such earnestly, not with condescension but something as close to humility as he perhaps could ever come.
"Um…" She pointed. Szayel glanced downward.
During his brief verbal conflict with Aizen, he had unconsciously rotated his hand faster and faster within Grimmjow's hole until it was only a white blur.
"Oh," he said, subdued. "Oops. Sorry, Grimmjow."
Grimmjow glared wordlessly.
"If you're not careful, Szayel," Gin piped, "we'll end up with an army of mini blue-haired mad scientists running around here."
Grimmjow paled. Orihime blushed. Aizen looked as though he had never heard of anything so appalling. Ulquiorra appeared thoughtful.
"Is that all it takes, then?" he asked. "Is this how we make babies?"
"Yep!" Szayel said, suddenly cheerful again. "After a short period—I'm not sure how long, it probably varies, you know, depending upon strength and all that—the babies form and pop out of the hole!"
"Of course," Gin said softly. "It is so simple, and yet so brilliant!" Szayel nodded solemnly.
"So…you just made a bunch of babies?" Ulquiorra inquired. Grimmjow choked.
"Nah," Szayel said. "It only works with different genders, and I'm pretty sure Grimmjow and I are in the same category."\
Grimmjow relaxed, although his relief was somewhat diminished by the fact Ulquiorra still had him by the neck.
"Are you sure?" Gin asked. "Has it ever been tried with two of the same gender?"
Szayel's brow furrowed. "Well…no…not that I know of…"
"So maybe it does work, no matter the genders."
"Maybe…" Szayel lapsed into a transitory contemplative silence, and then he gasped. "Grimmjow, we might have just started a family!"
Grimmjow looked absolutely horrified.
Tears began to form in Szayel's golden eyes. "Oh, Grimmjow, we're parents!" He flung his arms around the other Espada's neck. Grimmjow tried to fight him off, muffled howls of mingled rage and disgust emerging from his blocked throat, but it was no use. Neither Szayel nor Ulquiorra yielded.
"You both are idiots," came a bored voice behind them.
They turned. Szayel let go of Grimmjow, who ceased his fruitless struggles long enough to determine the identity of their unexpected visitor.
Nnoitra, draped in the shadows on the opposite end of the chamber, leaned casually on the hilt of his enormous sword. When he saw them looking, he raised a suggestive eyebrow.
"What are you talking about, Nnoitra?" Szayel questioned. His eyes darted around the room, slightly narrowed. When Nnoitra showed up, it usually meant Nel was nearby, and when Nel was present, widespread destruction and the general humiliation of all unfortunate parties in the area was imminent.
"You all have no idea what it takes to make a baby," Nnoitra said, and accentuated his point with a haughty toss of his hair.
Szayel stopped his furtive search for Nelliel. "Are you trying to insinuate you do, Nnoitra?"
"Tch, I know things you wouldn't believe, Aporro."
"Yeah, right, and Kaname's not secretly plotting to overthrow Aizen at the pivotal moment in their war with the Soul Society."
Aizen perked up. "Huh?"
Nnoitra laughed sardonically. "Pitiful. You have no clue…"
Szayel hesitated, and then begrudgingly enquired, "What?"
Nnoitra uttered a low, maddening chuckle, but whatever secrets he knew—or believed he knew—he did not reveal them.
Szayel crossed his arms. "Nnoitra…what knowledge exactly do you think you possess that I am woefully lacking?"
"Knowledge on how to fight, for starters," Nnoitra jeered.
Szayel waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, please, Nnoitra. You can't even beat Nel. How many times has she kicked your giant spoon ass?"
Nnoitra's smirk vanished, replaced by rage. "As if you could do any better, science-freak!" He paused, and then added defensively, "It's the boobs. I could beat her if it wasn't for those damn boobs! They always get in my way!"
"He has a point," Gin said thoughtfully. "This one time, when I was sparring with Rangiku—purely for fun, of course—she tripped me and I went straight into her bust. Nearly suffocated."
Szayel appeared to consider this, and then shrugged. "True, true. That's happened to me with Harribel more than once…"
"What have you been doing with Harribel?" Ulquiorra asked.
Szayel smiled mysteriously.
"Anyway…" Nnoitra cleared his throat and straightened. He regained his characteristic air of confidence—or perhaps arrogance would be a more appropriate term—and plastered his smirk back onto his face. "I know how babies are really made."
Szayel raised an eyebrow. "Oh, do you?"
"And how would you know anything about it?" Ulquiorra inquired, with a hint of skepticism.
Nnoitra's grin broadened. "Where do you think Tesla came from?"
Everyone looked distinctly ill, except for Gin.
"I knew it!" he exclaimed.
Szayel gave Nnoitra an 'I-will-humor-you-for-now' look. "Oh, please, do enlighten us." Nnoitra, maybe because his pride blinded him, or maybe because he truly was as dense as he appeared, missed the thick sarcasm in the Eighth Espada's voice.
"Just cut off the head."
There was an instant in which his six companions merely stared at him, unsure how to take what they had heard.
"Uh…what?" Szayel said finally.
"Cut off the head," Nnoitra repeated airily. "That's all it takes. When you want to make a baby, just find another Hollow, chop of their head, and the baby will pop right out! Trust me, I've done it loads of times. It works perfectly!"
Total silence. Orihime could almost hear the crickets chirp somewhere in the background, although of course there were no such insects in Hueco Mundo.
"Um…are you sure we're talking about the same thing?" There was a touch of uncharacteristic uncertainty in Szayel's tone. He seemed faintly sickened, if that was possible for Szayel.
"You're talking about making babies, right?"
"Yeah, but…" Szayel still looked ambivalent. He mused briefly, then scoffed and scowled at Nnoitra. "I'd say you are the idiot, spoon-boy. You don't reproduce by chopping off heads!"
Nnoitra sighed. "Oh, you are so clueless, Aporro, and you don't have any idea…"
Szayel rolled his eyes pointedly to the high vaulted ceiling. "Who is the clueless one, I wonder?"
Nnoitra snorted. "Fine. If you're going to be stubborn, I'll just show you. Hey, ghost-boy, bring catwoman over here."
Grimmjow fought against Ulquiorra's hold with renewed desperation. Ulquiorra, however, only appraised Nnoitra, confused. After a moment, Szayel leaned over and murmured, "He means Grimmjow."
"Oh." Ulquiorra took an automatic step forward. Then he halted. He appeared not to notice the numerous blows which rained on his head and torso as Grimmjow struggled tirelessly for his freedom. His catlike orbs narrowed infinitesimally, his lips curved gently downward in the slightest expression of suspicion. "Are you sure about this? Perhaps it would be better if we don't demonstrate this one…"
Grimmjow again ceased his useless punches and kicks and began to nod in vigorous assent.
"Oh, come now," Nnoitra coaxed with false benignity. "I promise not to hurt him…too badly."
Ulquiorra looked torn. "Well…"
Grimmjow's eyes widened. He shook his head violently.
"Won't chopping off his head kill him?"
"Oh, no…" Nnoitra said. "I wouldn't kill him…permanently. I'm sure the science freak can bring him back."
"I don't know," Ulquiorra said. "I don't think we should risk it."
Grimmjow nodded.
"You worry too much, Ulqui, darling," Szayel chirped. "You know how adept I am at resurrection. You remember how successful my last attempt was…"
Szayel's last 'successful' attempt could be summed up in one word: Luppi. Grimmjow started to shake his head once more in a silent plea for mercy.
"Well…" Ulquiorra still did not seem wholly convinced.
Several tense minutes passed. Suddenly, just as it appeared Ulquiorra was about to make a decision, Wonderweiss, who had sat inconspicuously in the shadow of Aizen's throne, pulled his thumb out of his mouth and spoke.
"When a male and female organism come together, the egg and sperm combine to create the zygote, which then evolves into a fetus over a period of nine months in the female's uterus. Then it is born as a baby."
Silence.
Aizen, Gin, Orihime, Nnoitra, Szayel, Grimmjow, and Ulquiorra stared at the blond Numeros, stunned.
Finally, Szayel said, "…Huh?"
Wonderweiss, however, ignored him and turned to Aizen. "Cookie?" he asked hopefully.
Aizen blinked. "Huh?"
"Cookie," Wonderweiss repeated insistently.
Aizen could only gape, nonplussed.
Abruptly, Tousen Kaname appeared beside Wonderweiss. He reached into his robes and brought out a large chocolate-chip cookie. He tapped Wonderweiss on the shoulder and, when the Hollow glanced back, shoved the treat into his open mouth.
Wonderweiss chewed happily, humming to himself.
Kaname offered Aizen a quick bow and disappeared.
Aizen, Szayel, Nnoitra, Orihime, Ulquiorra and Grimmjow all face-faulted. Gin, however, looked indignant.
"Hey, where's my cookie?" he objected loudly. If he had hoped Kaname would rematerialize to give him the same goodie he had given Wonderweiss, however, he was disappointed.
A dull thud echoed in the chamber as Ulquiorra at last released Grimmjow. The blue-haired Espada immediately leapt to his feet and rounded on his pale-skinned comrade. He looked about to detonate with another assault of verbal and possibly physical abuse, but Ulquiorra Sonidoed around to his flank.
"So…where do babies come from?"
No one answered.
By this point, Grimmjow had lost all semblance of tolerance. "You…you…" For an instant, it seemed he was too infuriated to form a coherent sentence, and then, with the abrupt, savage force of the eruption of a volcano, he screamed, "You bunch of perverted Gillian-brained sick-minded sex-obsessed sadistic bloodthirsty MORONS! It's a good thing you all have no frickin' idea what the hell you're talking about, because no one needs you impotent eunuch megalomaniac freak-show master race wannabes to multiply! If you ever managed to spawn a horde of thumb-sucking bed-wetting rosy-palmed kiss-ass little bastards, I would kill myself! Thank all that is evil I'll never have to worry about that, because the day any of you procreate, Nnoitra will look normal, Aizen and Tousen will admit the real reason they ran off was to get married and Ichimaru is their lovechild, Orihime will do something useful, Ulquiorra won't be in love with her, and Szayel's hair will turn orange! ORANGE, I SAY! ORANGE!"
For the third time, a complete hush descended over Los Noches. All this had been said in one breath, and needless to say, none of the rant's recipients had quite understood it. Grimmjow panted, his face so red one could almost discern plumes of steam emit from his flesh and ears.
This time, a certain amber-eyed Espada spoke first.
"Orange? My hair would be ORANGE?"
Grimmjow growled expectantly at him.
Ulquiorra glanced between the two, somewhere between anxiety and exasperation.
Gin leaned forward eagerly.
Orihime blinked.
Nnoitra rolled his eyes.
Aizen groaned.
"OH, NOW YOU ARE GONNA GET IT!" Szayel unsheathed his sword and charged Grimmjow.
"BRING IT ON!"
CRASH. BOOM. BANG.
…There went the south wall.
Aizen slapped his palm to his brow. "Here we go again…"
Gin Shunpoed to his side. "Well, at least Grimmjow and Ulquiorra aren't fighting anymore," he said cheerily. Aizen did not look reassured.
Ulquiorra observed indifferently as his two comrades raced across the chamber, until at last, he released a soft resigned sigh and went to Orihime. He considered her, his head tilted slightly, his pallid visage as smooth and lovely as always. "Will you show me where babies come from?"
Orihime appeared taken aback. Her cheeks flushed, she appraised him, and then she smiled shyly. "Sure." She took his hand and led him to the exit.
Gin caught glimpse of the two departing figures. "Should we follow them, Sousuke? We could watch."
Aizen gazed up at him, mute, although whether out of shock or indignation it was impossible to determine. Gin shrugged. "Oh, well, have it your way. Your loss."
He vanished, but was soon replaced by Nnoitra, who huddled close to Aizen's throne in an attempt to escape the destruction caused by the dueling Espada below.
Aizen covered his eyes and muttered something which might have been a prayer. Nnoitra looked up, bemused.
"…Did you just say the Soul Society's Head Captain should have used softener on his Lieutenant's moustache?"