P . A . T . H . W . A . Y

II

Valediction

Orihime stepped awkwardly through the portal, and stood quietly as it closed around her allowing her eyes to adjust. She had entered with her mind full of apprehension and fear of what awaited her on the other side, but as she stepped into Hueco Mundo, her mind was rendered calm. The air here was cold, musty, yet full of spiritual power. She could sense the presences of thousands of Hollows - souls condemned to wander this barren place forever.

Hollows can only stay alive by eating the souls of humans...

Suddenly, Orihime felt extremely vulnerable. As she finally was able to take in the scenery around her, her eyes alighted upon Ulquiorra. That had been his name, she remembered. His was a face not easily forgotten. His whitewashed features beamed softly in the darkly lit atmosphere, and Orihime found herself shivering. He was like a spirit in a haunted house. A lean, tall, sleek Hollow with gleaming dispassionate eyes. Would he devour her soul, as his ogre of a subordinate had taken the spirits of so many others?

She swallowed hard, but he only walked innocuously away... expecting her to follow.

The building that they entered spread before her in limitless serpentine corridors as they walked. The complex was washed in distinct variations of slate gray—the color of the floor, the shade of the lofty ceiling, all the same foreboding hue. Columns loomed high above, the entrances that they guarded filled to the brim with velvety starless night. Every so often, she would see a plume of mist emanating from somewhere deep within the castle, but it was always slow moving, like a lazy fog that stood as unmoving as the stone pillars around it.

Orihime stayed close to the only other being in this place. She hugged herself warily—it was cold, and she felt that ominous sensation that someone was watching her unseen. The Arrancar was leading her somewhere deep within the maze. The farther they walked, the colder it became. Orihime hugged herself, wishing she had a thicker sweater and some pants. More to stave off the thought of the frigid air than anything else, Orihime cleared her throat as a pretense.

"U-Ulquiorra," her voice seemed feeble in the expansive hall. It echoed again and again, issuing from different corners of the labyrinth. Orihime winced at the sound. They walked a few more paces before he stopped, turned to look back at her. His expression was not angry, but there was something within it that made her uneasy. She stepped back, watching his hands warily.

"The big Menos called you that," she explained, a bit perturbed.

How forgetful she became! Why was she addressing a Menos Grande, expecting him to reply as if they were old acquaintances?

Why had she spoken at all?

"That's your name, isn't it?" she pressed on, determined to appear brave despite the way she felt. "I remember hearing it when you and he were—when I saw you… that time."

Her nerves, and the harsh sound of her own voice in this silent place made her talk too swiftly. She gave a nervous smile that he did not return. The face was as mask-like as ever.

He turned away, and continued walking without an answer. Somehow crestfallen, Orihime resumed treading at his heels. The scenery was repetitive around her, everything the same. She supposed she should have been counting the number of entrances she had passed, to find her way out again, but they had taken so many turns she doubted she would be able to remember anyway.

Orihime's brow furrowed. Besides, the thought of traveling alone here unsettled her. Who knew what dwelt within these corridors? And, she reasoned, they had come here through a portal. There was no telling where an actual exit might possibly be…

She gulped. If there even was an exit…

"Ulquiorra Schiffer." His unexpected voice interrupted her thoughts of escape. He glanced around, his brow rising incrementally at the astonished look on her face. Orihime stymied, wondering why he had replied, his words sounding forced but otherwise calm.

"My name."

"Oh," Orihime replied awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. What did one say to someone who had kidnapped them and threatened their friends' lives?

Nice to meet you?

Still, she persevered, feeling hopeful. "Schiffer-san, I'm—"

"Orihime Inoue," he finished for her coldly. "You will refer to me as Ulquiorra. Civility is extraneous where our circumstances are concerned." For the first time, a hint of annoyance filled his tone. As if he would rather be anywhere but escorting her through this foreign place. Her heart sank, tears already forming in her eyes. This place was bleak, and she knew not what lay in store for her. Surely she would meet Aizen eventually, and if he did not find her useful… she pushed that thought to the back of her mind.

Why had she spoken to him?

Perhaps, she told herself, she had been hoping for some semblance of friendship with—anyone in particular. Now she knew she was alone here, but she didn't know when she would ever be able to leave. To see—

Her breath caught in her throat, and she had to stifle a sob. The small sound resonated softly, but still loud enough for her captor to hear. Orihime stiffened, but the Espada only looked at her briefly, his green eyes vaguely curious. She had acted so sure of herself before; why the sudden shift?

Ulquiorra led her to a small room deep within the labyrinth. The walls, like all the others in Las Noches, were a lifeless shaded white. But, thankfully, a small window caught her eye, though it was barred. Orihime imagined that it wouldn't be easy to look anywhere out of it, but she was glad for the sight of the sky. She hadn't realized that there even was a sky in such a dismal place...

At least I'll be able to tell what time of day it is…

She studied her surroundings carefully. The room was entirely empty, save for a minuscule table, a drab couch, and a small futon in the corner. Orihime looked forlornly around the blank chamber, and then at the Arrancar, who observed her carefully before producing something from his pocket. He held out his hand expectantly, the back of it turned toward her. It was porcelain white, and if the place had not been littered in shadow, it would have blended perfectly with the whitewashed color of the room.

She stepped forward automatically to receive whatever he had to give her, cautiously, yet oddly glad that he hadn't immediately left her there by herself. She kept her eyes on his, wary of his intentions. Something heavy and soft fell into her outstretched palms.

His hand.

Orihime shivered.

The ghostly digits opened, revealing a silver, glimmering bracelet. The metal was smooth and polished, her reflection barely visible in the thin band. Despite its slenderness, the bauble sat heavy in her palm, as if imbued with some energy that gave it weight.

A gift?

"Wear this at all times," Ulquiorra admonished, and Orihime slipped it on her wrist quickly. "With it, you will only be visible to the Arrancar, and certain Soul Reapers within Las Noches. You may also pass through objects in your world, but it is not possible to do the same here." Orihime stared down at her wrist, and then at Ulquiorra. Her brow furrowed in confusion, eyes quizzical.

Her world?

Why had he mentioned that?

"You have twelve hours," he continued calmly, studying the back of his hand. "You may say goodbye to one person during that time, and only one person." Orihime's breath caught in her throat, unbelieving. He was letting her go—at least for the moment. She could go anywhere in the world that she wanted to. Anywhere at all. Dare she try to escape? Her heart pounded at the idea. If she could get somewhere safe, perhaps someone—anyone—would be able to help her. But then, he had said that the bracelet wouldn't allow anyone to see her…

So, I'll just take it off.

"However," his voice interrupted her frenzied thoughts of getaway, "they must not realize that you are there. If you attempt to escape or if you show yourself in any way to anyone," his eyes flicked up "your friends will perish. Rest assured, I will know if you do this." The redhead blanched. He had said it as if her thoughts had been written all over her face. Which, given her situation within the last half hour, she imagined they probably had been.

Get it together, get it together.

Orihime swallowed, wiping her face of all emotion, and nodded gravely, feeling her heart soar nonetheless. If she were determined…

"I will meet you at midnight," he added. "The place where you first saw me. Be certain that you are alone at that time."

"Yes," she replied, her eyes sparkling.

Ulquiorra blinked once, his hand rose slowly, pressed against something that she could not see. The air between thumb and forefinger distorted, tore. She gasped as midday sky threw the room into sudden light. Orihime leaped headlong into it as if the Espada had granted her freedom, so suddenly that he could only stare after her as she ran.

She flew swiftly, her feet treading easily over both grass and pavement. Her heart was pounding, her face full of color, breath coming in gasps. To see Ichigo one more time, after nearly a month! She told herself that she would make her presence known somehow, in any way she could. She had to let him know she was all right—he would worry about her, just as she worried for him, knowing she was gone. She ran haphazardly to her first destination, denying herself her prize for later. She would see her friends first, one last time. Each familiar face she saw would give her that much more strength later on.

When I try to escape...

There were a few people in the streets, but Orihime easily weaved her way around them. She slowed abruptly, leaning against a nearby telephone pole to rest for a moment, wondering whom to see first, and simply studying the atmosphere. The sky was a cloudless, piercing blue. It was noon now, she knew—Ulquiorra had given her twelve hours, and said he would meet her at midnight.

Had it only been a dream? The situation seemed so unreal—gazing at the bright sky, listening to the busy noises of the town, it was hard to believe that such a desolate place as Hueco Mundo existed. She glanced down at her wrist just to be sure. There sat the silver bracelet, innocently twinkling in the radiant sunlight. Orihime sighed miserably, wondering who she should visit first...

Ulquiorra spent a long moment staring after the girl, his lurid green eyes glimmering curiously. Honestly, humans were so strange—he'd rarely ever dealt with them like this before. They had always been beneath him, hardly worth the effort. Even as a simple adjuchas, he imagined he had felt the same way. Ulquiorra's eyes closed briefly. Those memories were fuzzy at best. And what did it matter what sort of beast he'd been as an adjuchas anyway?

He let the portal close, trusting that his charge would obey his orders, lest he act on his threat.

The fourth Espada felt unease. The others should have returned by now—he was particularly wary of Grimmjow. The cerulean-haired demoted Menos would by no means be willing to follow his orders. The fact that he had not, after such a long span of time, healed the scar given him by the ryoka, Ichigo Kurosaki, meant that he was intent on finishing their duel. Better to stop him now, he supposed, before something happened that was—unintended. It was amazing how much Grimmjow was able to complicate things.

With another flick of his wrist, he opened a second portal, this time gazing at a half-ruined block of city within its depths. A few buildings were cracked open, dust spilling from their insides. Columns of smoke whirled through the clear air above, telling the world of the destruction below.

They had already gotten started.

A twinge of regret flashed across his features for a split second. Had he taken too much time with the human girl? Ulquiorra pushed that thought from his mind. It was foolish to worry about things that were already said and done.

His flash step took him closer to the battlefield. Ulquiorra always gauged the situation before acting—it was surely logical to do so, lest undue injury befall him. Not that there were many that could somehow manage to harm the fourth Espada. Certainly not the pathetic—person—that Ulquiorra saw as he phased in nearby. Bloodied and beaten, Ichigo Kurosaki was entirely at Grimmjow's mercy. The Arrancar's blue eyes were alight with malice. He held a Cero spell at point-blank range—the red of it swathed the Soul Reaper's face in morbid light.

Time to intervene. The fourth Espada gathered his formidable reiatsu around himself—it flew around him in the form of hurricane winds—easily drawing Grimmjow's attention. He saw the blue eyes widen in shock, and then narrow with malice.

"Here to protect him, Ulquiorra? To tell me it ain't necessary to kill him now?" he called out raucously. Ulquiorra said nothing, but studied the sphere of power his supposed ally held out towards the orange-haired one, as if offering a gift. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you!" At that precise moment, the fourth Espada felt the energy surge, felt the Cero barely held by the cerulean Arrancar's fingertips. He saw the fierce look of abandonment in the Soul Reaper's dark gaze. And at this precise moment, Ulquiorra acted.

A flash step brought him beside Grimmjow. Ulquiorra wrenched the Arrancar's wrist upward, drawing the Cero into his own hand. The red energy sparked between his pallid fingertips, and over the back of his hand. There was discomfort, but the power difference between them was too great for it to be noticeable. As he absorbed the energy, Ulquiorra saw two sets of eyes—blue and brown—fall on him simultaneously.

"You damned traitor," growled Grimmjow beside him. "Get the hell out of the way!"

"Your orders did not include this," he replied calmly, cleanly. Grimmjow wrenched his wrist from Ulquiorra's grasp, leaped back, and drew his zanpakouto, pointed it at the pallid one before him. Ulquiorra blinked.

"We both know that you do not have the power to best me in your current condition, Grimmjow." It was a fact. Grimmjow had been punished with his demotion—the Soul Reaper Tosen had relieved him of his left arm. It had lowered his ability greatly, and, even while he had worked to raise it again, he was no match for Ulquiorra. The fourth knew this, and yet watched with cloudy incredulity as Grimmjow dashed forward, not at the one hunched over on the earth, but at Ulquiorra instead.

With a trained eye, the green-eyed Espada followed Grimmjow's attack, the curve of his sword, the movement of his eyes. In a split second, he had struck, but Ulquiorra had seen it as if the blue-haired Arrancar had been miles away. Sword met the pale skin of Ulquiorra's spear-hand with a flash of sparks. Ulquiorra blocked the blade easily enough. With his other hand, Ulquiorra resumed his grip on Grimmjow's wrist. His fingers dug into the Arrancar's tendons, and the sword loosened in his grip—but did not drop. Grimmjow snarled in dismay, his fingers forming an iron talon around the blade's hilt.

"What d'you wanna save him for, eh?" the demoted Espada hissed. "Aizen thinks he's a threat—why wait until he actually becomes one? He's nothing now! Let me finish him!" Ulquiorra's expression, as always, did not change, but his eyes followed something that Grimmjow soon noticed as well.

A portal was opening. Within stood several Soul Reapers—Yoruichi Shihoin and Kisuke Urahara among them. Ulquiorra blinked, remembered Yammy's duel with these two, how it could have gone that much worse had he not taken matters into his own hands. The pallid Arrancar was not intent on fighting these - he hadn't been commanded by Aizen-sama to do so. It was time to leave.

"Damn it," Grimmjow swore.

As she drew near his house, she felt his spiritual pressure there: weak, but present. It was worrisome—he always tried his hardest, and the enemies he had fought were strong. She clenched her fists, wishing she could have been there to protect him, wishing that she could have gone. All of this mess was a nightmare - it had gone all wrong. Why couldn't she have gone with Kuchiki-san?

Orihime found his room from the outside. The window was blinded shut, and, remembering Ulquiorra's words about her bracelet, she pressed her hands firmly to the outside wall.

Go through… go through… come on…

As if the surface suddenly vanished, Orihime fell through the surface. She had to jump back a bit to keep herself from tumbling into—

Ichigo…

He lay bandaged underneath his blankets on the bed. His normally headstrong eyes were closed in slumber. The darkness and his peaceful expression softened him. She smiled warmly, feeling the color rise in her cheeks. This was his room. Orihime spent a few moments simply looking at him. She resisted the urge to waken him and take off the bracelet. He would look at her, perplexed at her appearance in his room, and then smile at her. They were friends. Then she would tell him what had happened, and he would protect her from harm.

But... he was injured. Could she ask him to do that, even knowing he could only harm himself further?

"I missed you," she whispered softly, testing the silence. He did not stir.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, Ichigo," she continued, a little louder, her eyes falling on the bandage wrapped around his head. "I wish I could have been—more useful to you." Orihime grasped the fabric of her sweater, giving it an anxious squeeze. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears, but she blinked them back. She leaned in closer, studying his face intently, her eyes grazing the strong curve of his jaw. She heard him breathe easily, his slumber undisturbed.

"We've been through a lot haven't we?" she asked him, suddenly smiling, her mind flooded with memories. Ichigo's breath was warm on her cheek. "I'm glad—that we shared so much time together. I—" Orihime fell silent, inching ever closer. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her hair brush his chest as she leaned down beside him. Her lips were inches from his, her heart pounding. If he woke…

But that didn't matter.

The distance shortened, the moist warmth of his breath touching her lips. She had waited for this… wanted it for a long time now…

But…

Orihime drew back, suddenly, two pearl drop tears splashing the sleeping shinigami's face. They rolled down his cheeks, flowing like crystal rain.

"So—I can't do it after all," murmured Orihime. She smiled, laughed a little. Am I just afraid? she asked herself. Did she merely lack the confidence?

Why?

Orihime turned, looking out at the clear dark sky for answers, the moon outside a radiant specter watching her. She fingered the silver bracelet idly, imagining with a shudder that she saw a flash of green eyes in the distance. Ulquiorra would be waiting for her. It was nearly midnight. She gasped, feeling sick and miserable. She didn't want to go back, but if she didn't, what would the Arrancar do to her friends? Ichigo couldn't defend himself as he was now...

Her time was up.

One last thing…

Orihime carefully edged towards his desk. She took a pen, and in the farthest corner of the largest notebook, wrote a last farewell. Surely someone would find it soon. Surely they would look there...

Goodbye, halcyon days.

She stared at her message for a moment, heard the wind rustle outside. Should she write something more? She turned around, looking outside, expecting the Arrancar to be there wondering why she was late. The moon glared at her accusingly. If she disobeyed… But would they know where she was? How did one get to Hueco Mundo anyway? Orihime hesitated, her fingers reaching for the pen again. Some stray leaves rattled softly against the windowpane.

Too late for that; it was time to go.

Orihime exited the way she came. The streets, once so busy and boisterous, now lay empty and lifeless before her. For a moment, she worried for her safety, but then she remembered that the bauble she wore rendered her a ghost. No one would see her here.

She made her way to the park where the two Arrancar had appeared, closed at this hour, but if she willed her way through the gates, she could travel within. The coldness of the night air chilled her bones, but the calm of the sylvan scenery stilled her heart at last. Orihime walked towards a small pond, remembering days spent here on picnics with her friends.

In the distance, she could see the land still ravaged from the sudden attack by the Arrancar weeks before. There was new growth there, but the scars from the battle would still be there for months to come. Rather than remind herself of that day, she decided to turn her attention to the peaceful waters instead.

Tonight, the water was still. A perfect mirror of the sky danced on the surface. She looked above, at the whispering trees. The sakura blossoms above her were not yet in bloom, but soon would be—the buds were pink and nearly ready to open. Orihime idly picked an early blossom from a low branch and bent down to let it sail on the open water. She sat on the dry bank, feeling blades of new grass under her fingertips. The tiny flower began its journey with the current, a lone pink spot on the black surface.

Her tears flowed freely now—she would miss this place.

Everyone…

"It is time to leave."

Orihime gasped loudly, whirling and getting to her feet so fast that she nearly fell down again. For the first time since she'd seen him, Ulquiorra seemed taken aback. His brows were arched, and his eyes were widened slightly in surprise. He stared for a long moment, quizzically. Then a pale hand rose to his face, tracing the green tear streak that fell from eye to jawbone.

Orihime blinked, both stunned by his sudden appearance, and the confused expression he wore.

"Oh!" she smiled sheepishly. With a sleeve, she wiped her own tearstains away. Orihime imagined that her eyes were probably puffy and red too, but there was nothing she could do about that right now. She looked away from his perplexed face, feeling awkward.

"I'm sorry—I just… am really going to miss a lot of things here." She laughed half-jokingly. "I didn't even get to see the sakura blossoms bloom this year."

Ulquiorra's green orbs were unrelenting.

"You are to go to Aizen-sama in three days' time," the Espada said in his silky monotone, though it was noticeably softer than before. "He does not tolerate… weakness." Orihime stiffened.

Weakness…? Hasn't he ever seen someone upset before?

A second thought occurred to her.

Was this a warning?

She searched the Arrancar for a shift in expression, but found that doing so was like trying to read emotion in a brick wall.

He turned without saying another word and opened the portal that would take her to her prison. She was expecting another long trek through the corridors, but this time, the rift in the sky led directly to her room. Orihime sighed. The tiny space was a bit of a disappointment after the park, and it was exceedingly dark save for a column of light emanating from the moon outside. She walked in, feeling slightly claustrophobic. Was she really supposed to live here of all places? For how long?

She sat on the little couch near the entryway, watching Ulquiorra close the portal. He seemed to take his time drawing the two edges together again, perhaps waiting for her to say something more. But Orihime doubted that he was here just to hear her speak. He had already proven that he didn't much care for her company - he had seemed irritated earlier.

Too bad, she thought. He's the one who kidnapped me, so he'll be the one to answer my questions.

"Three days," Orihime repeated as the gateway was sealed. Ulquiorra turned to look at her. "Why does Aizen need me?" She observed him closely; the slender grace of his lithe form betrayed his strength. As he moved, she could see his muscles bunch underneath his coat. The diagonal light hit his figure at an angle, and in the soft rays of the spectral moon he looked more and more like a wayward spirit. His eyes gleamed like vibrant jewels in his angular face, the luminance from the tiny window casting them alight.

What, are we admiring him now? she mentally scolded herself.

"That is for him to tell you," came the short reply. The ghostly Hollow blinked once, mechanically, as if something within his thoughts was shifting.

"Some servants will bring your meal in the morning."

"Why not you?"

The question slipped out before the red-haired girl could stop it. Perhaps it was the stress of the day that had done it, or perhaps Orihime was simply irritated with the quick retorts the Espada kept giving her without her actually learning anything. Regardless, she bit her lower lip nervously, hoping he didn't react suddenly out of anger. Ulquiorra frightened her, and yet something about his demeanor had made her bold, and perhaps—reckless. There was a long silence, in which the Arrancar studied her meticulously with those x-ray-like eyes of his.

With a delicate white hand, the Espada pointed to the bauble on her wrist.

"You have free access to this hallway only, so long as you wear the bracelet." Evidently he had decided not to respond to her question. "I shall know if you decide to leave this area of the castle, or if you remove it." Orihime frowned a little, deciding to replace her last query with a new one.

"Why just this hallway?" she pressed. He shifted his gaze to the door, the shadows created by the half-mask he wore suddenly bathing his face in pitch black. The effect made him look more demonic than ever, for his eyes glowed as if the light from the window hit them still. The deep, soft voice sounded as if it could have come from anywhere but the man standing before her.

"There are servants of Aizen who do not appreciate your presence, though most are not aware that you reside here. This is my section of Las Noches. Whilst you are inside of it, no one is allowed to harm you."

With that, he swept from the column of light in a whirl of dusky white cloak. The darkness swallowed him up entirely, and he vanished from Orihime's line of sight. She wondered if he had actually left the room; if, like a nocturnal predator, he could see her without her being aware. Orihime found the silence unnerving.

What else could be watching her without her knowledge?

She busied herself with studying the contents of her little room as her eyes slowly adjusted, not feeling quite confident enough to venture outside just yet, and still feeling depressed after her encounter with Ichigo. She hiccupped quietly with unshed tears.

How on earth would Ichigo and the others find her? She had wanted so much to help them, and here she was again, utterly useless. She was more a burden to them now than ever before…

Orihime seated herself benignly on the small couch near the doorframe. There was a soft clattering outside her door. She wondered briefly what the noise was, her sadness giving way to fear when she recalled the warning Ulquiorra had given her about some Arrancar being angry at her arrival in Hueco Mundo. She gripped her seat nervously. But after a moment, she also remembered the fourth Espada saying something about servants coming to give her food.

The night before had been filled with imagined phantoms stealing her away in the twilight hours. Where childish dreams had ceased to frighten her years ago, now they returned tenfold. And unlike her childhood nightmares, these fears were well founded. Sleep was made impossible with every sound—real or imagined—that she heard. Every creak or gust of wind could be an enemy, and where her powers would give her confidence, now they left her entirely as if they had never been.

She wasn't hungry.

Instead of looking up to greet her guest, Orihime decided to stare into her lap. Her eyes studied the fabric of her wrinkled school dress, her face set. She wasn't going to eat if she wasn't hungry. Period. Besides, what would Ulquiorra do if he found out she had not eaten? Threaten her friends' lives again? If you don't eat, your friends will die. What was next? Would he threaten them again if she didn't tie her shoelaces? She folded her arms against her, determined not to even greet her guest. There was a quiet shuffle as the tray was slid onto the little table.

Orihime clasped her hands together, waiting for whomever it was to leave. Minutes elapsed.

"You will not eat?" the fourth Espada's smooth voice filled her ears. She looked up at the lazy figure, surprised. Last night he had appeared as a demon; today, he was a man once again.

Why is he here?

Dimly, she remembered her unanswered question from the night before.

"I thought you said someone else would bring food," her tone quavered. She had spent the last few minutes in tears, and she imagined that her eyes had grown red and puffier still with misery and lack of sleep—his figure was strangely blurred and misty. But he had already seen her cry. What did it matter now if he knew she had been upset? He was the one who had caused it.

"I'm not hungry," she continued morosely, changing the subject.

"Aizen-sama has entrusted me with your care," he said, unyielding. "You will eat, woman, or the ones you care for will suffer." A lump rose in Orihime's throat, but she swallowed it almost immediately. She was tired with the night's fitful sleep, wanted nothing more than for him to leave her alone. She felt sick, even though her stomach was empty. Was he really going to stand there until she ate everything on her plate?

"I'm not hungry," she repeated, more quietly. Her eyelids were so heavy; if only he would go, she could rest…

"I will not allow you to compromise your health for foolish reasons, woman. You will eat." Ulquiorra leaned closer, and she felt her breath freeze. "Or do you not believe I have the ability to take what you hold dear away from you?" The girl looked blearily into his eyes. Did she believe that he had that power? Yes. But she knew he dared not use it if he wanted her cooperation. Knowing she was needed for her abilities changed things quite a bit in her mind. If anyone she cared for were hurt, she would not only refuse to act for Aizen, but would resist as well. With a knowing expression on her face, she looked up at Ulquiorra, still leaned over the table, his fierce eyes locked with hers.

Was he getting angry?

"I'm still not hungry," she said calmly.

"And if you hurt my friends, I definitely won't be eating anything for a long time," she added quickly, just to be sure. Orihime waited, wondering how far he could be pushed. She felt the irrational desire to see him do something other than stare at her with that blank expression. To see him with some emotion on his face. Orihime watched as the perpetual frown he wore twitched. Her heart leaped. She'd gotten him!

Or had she?

His eyes narrowed briefly.

"You are going to eat, woman," he said, his voice slightly louder, but not enough to make her believe he was truly angry. He picked up a grape from the platter, the dark purple tannin standing out against his snowy skin. The girl flinched as he leaned closer still, his countenance inches from hers. Orihime shifted uncomfortably. His breath was cold and clammy on her face, but oddly sweet smelling, and the redhead wondered ludicrously if Hollows brushed their teeth.

"Shall I shove it down your throat?"

"My name's not 'woman'," Orihime chided, completely ignoring the fruit in his hand. She glared defiantly back at him, refusing to be frightened into obedience a second time. The first time had been for the sake of her friends, nothing more. He was a fool if he thought she would be controlled that easily. "And I told you I'm not hung—"

Orihime nearly choked as soft fruit pressed against her tongue. The sudden taste of grape skin was bitter, and something cold brushed her lower lip. It took her a moment to realize what he'd done, and in that instant, quiet outrage filled her features.

She stared disbelievingly at the slit pupils before her, hating him.

He was the one who had kidnapped her, taken her from the ones she loved. Forced her here, and was now forcing her to eat when she felt thoroughly sick with fear and guilt… and… sadness…

Orihime bit into the grape rolling on her palate, feeling the fingers on her chin lift. He reached for another grape, and held it to her lips. This time, she ate it without complaint. His actions had astonished her out of her defiance. He hadn't exactly shoved anything down her throat - his fingers were gentle, but firm. Was he really that determined to have her eat?

His irises were truly emerald, and striated with veins of lighter jade. She could drown in those eyes… fall through them as if they were oceans of viridian waiting to swallow her up. Memories of Ichigo flooded her thoughts. His eyes were dark and sure, and they sparkled whenever he held her in his regard. They were neither lifeless nor gelid, so different from the ones before her now.

She missed Ichigo so much…

…and yet, she hadn't been able to kiss him…

Warm tears flowed in rivulets down her cheeks, transparent mirrors for the man before him.

"I told you, Aizen-sama does not tolerate weakness," the Espada murmured. His quiet voice covered her like a blanket, somehow similar to the kindness in Ichigo's eyes. She swallowed slowly, wanting desperately to leave his presence, to sleep. But before she could rise, he had offered her a third piece of fruit. One more after that, and another, and still more… Her tears soon dried, and she felt the color rise in her cheeks.

Ulquiorra rose abruptly, taking her again by surprise. It was then that she realized how close he had been. He'd been kneeling over her, feeding her fruit. She let the fact sink in, and then looked at him incredulously. What exactly was he playing at?

"You will follow my orders," he said, "one way or another. You took your friends' lives into your hands today—I will not be so lenient again…

"…Orihime."

At the sound of her own name, the red-haired girl took an apple from the platter, looking away from her captor, speechless. She thought of her purpose here, thought of reminding him that she would never follow any orders if her friends were harmed, but the words wouldn't come.

Meh... not so pleased with this chappie... but there it is.

Two chappies in two days! Please review! sniff