Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of its characters.
"Yo, the albino freak staring at me from behind the wall? Yeah, you. Who the hell are you?"
Toushiro blinked, freezing slightly on the spot. He had been sure he had hidden himself so well in the darkness of the prison, yet this strange prisoner had seen him.
Feeling slightly nervous, he shuffled his way over to the cell, trying to peer more closely at the man inside, now that he had a clear vantage point. He couldn't really see anything. But as he was farther from the dingy light bulb that attempted to illuminate the entire area, he noticed that the interior of the cell was so dark he could not see half the man's face. It only added to the chilling feel of the situation.
He briefly wondered whether the prisoner inside ever felt lonely, trapped in a room too dark to even see his own hand, let alone any other companion. It could closely compare to a blind man, his world distorted by limitations.
"That is my question. Are you, by any chance...human?"
He felt a sudden spark of excitement at the idea. This would be his first time meeting one; his stepfather had never let him into any of the meetings and planning of the war, and so he was very ignorant about the other side – the enemy.
"What's it to ya, huh?"
"So you are...but you do not seem as filthy and savage as my history tutors have described."
He hadn't meant it as an insult – any intelligent man would have noticed it was actually a compliment – but the captive took offense.
"What the fuck did you just call me?! Why don't you come over here and say it to me again?!"
"I highly doubt you would have any way to attack me – your hands are tied up."
So humans were as unintelligent as he had learned them to be.
The prisoner chuckled darkly.
"Never underestimate the power of a good kick," he said in a dangerous, low tone, yet it almost seemed like he was enjoying some sort of inside joke.
The prince took a step back from the bars, not comfortable with the look on the man's face, especially as half of it was covered in shadows.
"You never answered my question, pretty boy," the prisoner continued, smirking. "Who the hell are you, anyway?"
Toushiro smirked too. His title was something he was proud of, as it brought him respect and dignity.
"I am the crowned Prince of this kingdom, and the future king, destined to rule this planet."
The prisoner gaped slightly, and he felt himself grow smug.
"They let princes roam around the dungeons like this?" His voice sounded incredulous.
Toushiro paused, not wanting to tell the truth. After all, it wouldn't do for the prisoner to think he had such little power in his own home that he had to sneak around in dark secret passageways. Especially this one, who seemed the type to sneer and mock, because Toushiro was not used to people treating him that way.
"Tell me your name, human," he ordered, picking a safer topic. To him, it was only natural to give orders rather than asks questions or make requests.
"No," was the blunt reply. "But what's yours?"
Toushiro frowned. People denying his demands was another thing he wasn't used to.
Toushiro was the type of man who had had life handed to him. Although no one could call it a breeze – he had lost a father without ever knowing him, had lost his mother at an early age, and had had to put up with a man like Aizen – but he was also surrounded by servants on a daily basis.
He may have thought his lessons and rebellion was difficult, but that was because he had never had to plow a field or cut down a tree in his life.
"If you choose not to tell me yours, then I refuse to tell you mine."
"Then I guess we've reached a stalemate, huh?"
"It appears so." What a curious human. "Alright, then, tell me how many years you have acquired."
"A hundred and seven," was the snarky reply this time.
The prince glared instead of frowning. The prisoner was so obviously making fun of him! That was a bold move considering the man was at his mercy.
"I will not be spoken to that way, human," he hissed. "You are in my home and -"
"Hey, you got anything to eat on you?"
Toushiro broke off, his brows furrowed. The sudden question had thrown him off slightly, and he took a moment to answer.
"No."
"Damn. Oh well, then I guess you're no use to me today. Come around again tomorrow when you get some food, 'kay?"
How dare this insolent little -
"Do not count on it," he replied coldly. The prisoner smirked.
"Well, seeing as how I'm tied up in a prison in enemy territory, there's not much else left to count on, is there?"
He didn't answer, choosing instead to stomp away from the brat, who was watching him with amusement at the effects of his words. But they had left an impact on the young royalty. Not pity, but, oddly, a sense of...guilt.
But that was absurd. What did he have to feel guilty about?
.. ღ ..
He was still very ticked off, but for some reason, he still returned the next day. Tucked securely under his arm was a package of leftovers from dinner he had stolen from the palace kitchens.
.. ღ ..
"What the hell were you thinking, bringing her along?! We were retreating, dumbass."
"What the fuck was I s'pposed to do, huh Nnoitra? Just let her call her guards on us? You know they woulda flipped!"
"Yes, but we would have been long gone by then, Grimmjow."
"Shut up, Szayel. No one asked you. And I saved all our asses, so I ain't takin' no more of this crap."
Ulquiorra can not either, so he departs from the arguing group – looking very suspicious huddled in the deserted corridor of the dungeons, he might add – and instead wanders aimlessly down the hallway.
He also thinks that Grimmjow's actions bordered beyond stupidity, but what's done is done. He has no qualms about the situation. After all, it was not his decision to kidnap a helpless human female from her home, and so he has no need to fear for punishment. It all falls on Grimmjow's shoulders, and Grimmjow's shoulders alone. The idea almost makes him feel pleased.
The group's arguments become louder, echoing against the walls of the corridors, and he sighs deeply, closing his eyes wearily.
If it is not obvious, he does not like his team. Leoan armies, however, are strict. There are no decisions or choices a soldier is allowed to make. Team assigments are given based on skill and technique, and no pleadings for a different placement are allowed, and so from day one of his graduation, he has been stuck with this pathetic – and rowdy – team of soldiers.
They are not all bad. Of course, he and Grimmjow never see eye to eye, and he finds Szayel's narcissism and lewd comments disturbing. But, for example, he does not mind Starrk's company. The man is rather quiet – most probably because he spends his time sleeping, but that is better than spending his time sparring, because the other team members feel the need to issue the loudest battle cries possible when practicing – and stays away from loud spats. He is tolerable, like a few rare others in his group.
But if given the choice, he will gladly switch for a different group, or, even better, a solo position, in which he is not required to have to tolerate anyone.
"Mmmph!"
His thoughts are cut off when he hears an odd sound. It sounds much like a muffled cry. His eyes flutter open.
Being the sensible man he is, it does not take long for him to realize the sound is coming from within the dungeon. And there is only one person in there.
He hesitates. He likes avoiding the company of others whenever possible, and so actually choosing to subject himself to the girl is an undesirable idea, but he knows that if he ignores the cry and she does something unintelligent - as expected of humans – such as injuring herself by attempting to escape, he will be in just as much hot water as Grimmjow.
And so he painfully opens the door at the end of the corridor, and steps inside.
She is in the very first cell, as none could be bothered to waste breath to go any farther for her. His eyes remain expressionless and without any sympathy or pity as he takes in her predicament.
Her hands and feet are tied tightly by a tattered cloth they had found lying inside, probably used to bind the previous prisoner. It is to prevent any escape. But Grimmjow still has the bitter memory of her attempting to bite his hand, so he had tied up her mouth as well. The rag covering her lips is very dirty, and she seems to be disgusted.
Her hair and face are also in a disarray. Her locks are covered in leaves and twigs from her hiding spot in a bush, and her face is matted with dirt for the same reason. There is even a sractch going down her cheek. She is looking down in defeat, her eyes closed in sadness.
He feels that she deserves this for being foolish.
"What is it?" he asks her quietly.
Her eyes immedieately snap open, a strange hope in them as she hurriedly meets those of her visitor. He watches that hope crumble as she recognizes him as one of her kidnappers.
"You were making strange noises," he informs her. "So, what is the problem?"
And she stares at him incredulously.
'Did you really just ask me that?' her eyes seem to say.
"It could be worse." If he had been one for shrugging, he would have. "You should really be grateful."
'Exactly what part of this situation should I be grateful for?' This time, he can sense the sarcasm dripping from the expression. She need not even say it for him to undertand.
"We chose not to kill you. You still have your life, so you should be thankful."
'Would you really have killed me?' Her eyes widen in fear.
"Grimmjow can be hostile," he says in his usual monotone. "If he had wanted to, there is nothing we could have done to stop him."
Her expression saddens greatly at his uncaring response.
'I want to go home,' he reads her tears effortlessly. They make him feel uncomfortable. Perhaps because he is not used to crying females. An apology burns his tongue, but he does not say it, choosing instead to watch her close her eyes tightly, look down in defeat once again, and cry silently.
It baffles him slightly, and yet he feels a curiosity as well. There is such expression on her face. With just her simple eyes and visage, she is able to convey so much to him – sarcasm, sadness, surprise, fear, hope. It is such a contrast to his own ways of keeping his face poker straight. He knows that should he ever try, he could never acheive what she has – that blatant honesty on her face, allowing her to open up to strangers like him. Maybe even win their sympathies...
No. What is he thinking? He refuses to get involved with Grimmjow's problem.
"You might want to keep quiet," he spits out as he turns on his heels, ready to head out, far away from her. "It is useless to escape, and should someone get irked by your whimpers, they might not be as merciful as I to allow such a nuisance without taking your life."
He does not turn to see the apparent fear and repulsion he knows is in her eyes right now. Convincing himself that the thought of it does not bother him in the slightest, he strides out to meet his team once again.
There is another present when he arrives, however - a trembling young boy with straight black hair, who looks pterified as he takes in the towering size and muscle of the soldiers surrounding him.
"Y-your M-majesties require your p-precense in the th-throne room right away."
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She is seething as she awaits the arrival of Hanatarou and the soldiers he has been sent – demanded, by a bellowing queen – to fetch. She is seated at her throne, legs crossed, arms folded firmly across her chest, a fierce scowl set on her face.
Her foot is tapping impatiently, and her husband is watching it with a raised brow.
"I'm sure Hanatarou will return soon," he says slowly and carefully, a little afraid that his beloved wife will explode. The vein on her forhead is certainly reaching a disturbing size. "Please try to...relax."
He knows it is the wrong thing to say even before he says it.
"Relax?!" she bellows, turning her glare on him, and he resists the urge to cringe. "How, Toushiro? How do I relax when some dumbass," - all of her adaption of proper words and ettiquette has been forgetten, and her previously crude language is resurfacing once again in the wake of this new disaster – "has captured a human?!"
He has no reply, and thanks his lucky stars when the door to the throne room creaks open.
"Um...your Majesties. I bring you the soldiers you reque-"
"Just come in!" she barks, and they can hear Hanatarou squeal in fright before the door swings open to reveal him. Behind him is a group of men, each dressed in the white uniform of the Serra Leoan army.
"Is that them?" she demands, and the messanger nods weakly, trying his best to sink back and disappear into the bulkiness of the soldiers.
The queen eyes them with narrowed eyes, taking in their ragged appearances and haughty air. One in particular catches her eye.
"You there," she says, and points to the short poker-faced one standing in the back. It might be her imagination, but she thinks she hears the one with orange eyebrows growl slightly under his breath. "Come forward."
The man does as he is told, bowing respectfully when he is directly in front of her.
"Yes, your Majesty?"
"Your name, soldier?"
"Ulquiorra Cifer, your Majesty."
"Ulquiorra, tell me the exact events that took place the previous night."
"Certainly, your Highness. We were retreating from our posts, as ordered, when a large portion of the group expressed a desire to open a gate rather than walk the complete distance required to reach camp. Their was a human home in the vacinity, and as we awaited the arrival of the gate, a human girl was discovered hiding in one of the bushes. Grimmjow threatened to capture her lest she attempted to call for her guards, yet she resisted futilely, and so Grimmjow felt the need to bring her along."
"Which one of you is Grimmjow?" she asks darlkly as he ends his tale, her voice low and dangerous.
After much shuffling among the group, a bright blue haired man is pushed to stand in front of her. He is glaring at his unfaithful team.
"Grimmjow," she seethes, her glare set only on him now. "What, may I ask, compelled you to bring a human girl within our planet's land during an ordered peaceful retreat?"
"She was calling for her guards," he says, shrugging.
The king groans softly into his hands at the man's flippant attitude. It will not be helpful in this situation.
"I see," she continues, her voice suddenly frighteningly calm, and she nods like his explanation makes perfect sense. "Well, that certainly justifies the situation. Her guards would certainly have been a problem. Capturing her and abducting her and creating a need for the guards to actually attack was obviously the most reasonable solution to the problem."
Although there is a wide smile on her face, it is obvious from her excessive use of emphasized words that she is seething on the inside. Grimmjow shifts on the spot, looking very uncomfortable, as if he senses the danger.
"Karin," a soft voice intervenes, and all look hopefully towards the king, praying his next words will save the situation. "Are there not more important matters to attend to at the moment than interrogating Grimmjow here?"
She eyes him curiously, not entirely sure what he is attempting to remind her of. What could possibly be more important at the moment than -
"The prisoner!" she cries as she suddenly remembers, and her eyes widen at her own forgetfulness. "Grimmjow! Tell me, where is the prisoner?"
The uncomfortable tension in the room doubles for some reason. The blue haired soldier under scrutiny shifts, trying to mask his anxiety with his usual scowl. But the queen senses the intense feel between the soldiers, and she grows suspicious.
"Where is she?" she snarls with more fervor, her temper flaring once again.
A quiet whimper is heard from the very back of the silent group, and a weak looking Hanatarou trembles, hidden behind massive bodies of trained and bulky soldiers, which he had intended when he had chosen to stand there.
"I-I don't know..." he squeaks, his voice shaking.
The answer he recieves is uncannily similiar to his encounter with Hisagi Shuuhei.
"That was not directed at you," she snaps at him. "You may go now."
The young lad sighs with relief, and gladly bows and bolts away from the extremely awkward group gathered in the throne room, not even bothering to pause to open the door like a civilized person, but simply pushing it ajar as he runs.
The snickers are cut off abruptly at the dangerous expression on the queen's face.
"Well, you see...your Highness," – the soldier on trial hastily remembers to tack on a respectful title at the end – "we -"
"You."
A drifting voice corrects him, and he scowls as he obliges.
"Fine. I wasn't sure what to do with her, so I figured it'd be best to...ya know..."
The soldier finally begins to falter, realizing his actions are about to get him in serious trouble.
"What?"
"Well, I, er, put her...in the dungeons-"
"You what?!"
He is cut off when the queen suddenly springs from her chair and speeds across the room, not bothering to look at him or anyone else. However, she does remember to call over her shoulder, "Toushiro! Deal with the mongrel, would you?"
The king sighs wearily. As he looks over the subjects gathered before him – Grimmjow seems ticked off, but his team is undoubtedly amused at his predicament – he rests his head in his hand, which is supported by his elbow settled on the armrest of his throne. While he rubs his eyes, his thumbs brush something rough. He trails his fingers along his stubbled chin, and after assessing the situation, an off-putting realization hits him.
'I suppose I am allowed to shave now.'
Sorry that it's not terribly exciting. It was a transition chapter, and to let you all know that...drrrrrrrr (my pathetic attempt at a drum roll)...the UlquiHime pairing has won! With 1 vote to 2. Though I suppose that's pretty obvious if you read the chapter, huh? I hope this does not turn off IshiHime fans, but I would understand if it did; I don't like reading fanfic with pairings I don't like in them, either.
And a note to UlquiHime fans: I hope you'll put up with my attempts at creating a romance between these two. Seeing as how it's my first time pairing them up, I might butcher it completely, but I'll give it my best! Feedback would be good, though, so I can make it more enjoyable for you. Are they too out of character, or is it moving too fast? Too slow? Once their relationship starts growing, I'd like to know, if you'd be kind enough. Thanks y'all!
Please excuse any mistakes I might have made in this chapter. My SpellCheck was not working for some reason. But I hope you enjoyed this chapter anyway, even despite its dullness and crappy English.