Capitulo uno... :)

I want to thank all of you who reviewed, alerted, fav'd... I really want to reply to your reviews, it was very nice of you to write something, but internet time is limited. I just want you to know you're appreciated.

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to my beta reader. you are amazing, and i love you very much, yes. You critique is insanely good, it brought up points I don't think I ever would have noticed. just... beyond awesome.

Nothing to say other than the Winter War is still going on, and there will be some semblance of plot.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or any of it's characters, etc.

Chapter 1

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Why did you do it?"

-

It was more of a mental battle between them than a physical one. A contest of who would endure the pressure of silence for the longest amount of time and who would give in. It seemed to Orihime that she lost far more often than not.

Today, it had changed. It had become a battle of words. Today would mark the clash of their ideals and fates, echoes of shadows that danced across the water. Today…

-

She bounded in like a ray of sunshine; but rays of sunshine did not burn as she did. He shook imperceptibly, trying to throw off the sudden sting of heat and joy that flooded in with her. Loathing coursed through his veins, and his lip curled ever so slightly into a faint snarl. He wanted to kill her, blast her to pieces for mocking him like this, coming back everyday to remind him of his pitiable condition and feebleness. His hand twitched in his pocket, and he fisted it to stop any further movement. He hated her more than any of the other trash around, because she was the same as the taunting light he saw but could never have.

"Ulquiorra-san…" She almost sang the word, "Dinner time!"

He said nothing, though that was to be expected. But then again, who was he to judge what was expected and what wasn't?

She waved a hand before his face, just as she had done countless times before. He ignored it, just as he has done countless times before. But his distant mood did not perturb her; in fact, it did quite the opposite. She was glad things were commencing as planned. Humming, Orihime began to take plates and silverware off the tray and set them on the table in the middle of the cell, trying to arrange them properly and balance the tray in her hand at the same time. She managed to do this until the very end, when some imaginary force tilted her already precarious being and sent the empty tray crashing to the ground with a loud clatter.

She would've cursed, but to do such a thing did not seem appropriate, so she held her tongue. Instead, she straightened up and looked brightly at her charge, perhaps hoping that to engage conversation would help to cover up the sudden, awkward silence filling the room.

"Ulquiorra-san, guess what I did today? Today, I went out for brunch with Ishida-san. He really is very charming, I like him a lot. We went to this pretty clearing and sat by the creek, and he brought food that he made himself. I would've liked to put some red bean paste on it, but… he told me he didn't have any… Anyways, then Rukia-san came over and joined us and we talked about our weeks and how they went, things like that. It was fun having some free time, especially since we're at war. So, I spent most of the morning with them, but then I remembered I had stuff to do, like healing people and feeding you---" Her voice, her never-ending voice, seemed to come from the depths of a verbal volcano. In contrast, his seemed more like a bottomless pit where words were few and far between. He wanted to silence her, strangle her, smother her; just end that never-ceasing voice that tore at his mind. Quiet. Quiet.

"Why?" He interrupted, his voice edged with pain. His throat burned with a myriad of insults and questions, but he restrained himself to a single, all-encompassing word.

"Why what?" She seemed eager to hear him speak, but her smile was wavering ever so slightly. The empty tray lay forgotten on the floor. "Why I remembered? Oh, so Ishida-san said something about---"

"Why do you persist? For what reason do you idiots continue to disgrace me?"

The smile was definitely trembling now. "I thought we were doing you a kindness."

He closed his eyes, jaw clenched. "You fools, you utter fools," he whispered, "It pains me to recall the humiliation of being captured by imbeciles like you, to be taken care of by an imbecile like you. I have never before felt shame such as I feel now, to be scrutinized by your filthy eyes and kept alive for your pathetic amusement. I am no better than a traitor in your hands. And you, you who thinks you are doing me a kindness? If you had wanted to show me mercy, you would have slit my throat at the first opportunity and ended this wretched existence."

Orihime's eyes stung, but she bit her tongue and pressed onward, "And then we- we went back to Soul Society, Ulquiorra-san-"

"Shut up, woman."

She really thought she would cry, but refused once again to give him to pleasure of winning. "No."

"Do it." His voice was deathly quiet; a hiss. There was a time when she would have been afraid, but now she found that an unexplainable anger was welling up of inside her. An anger she had never felt before, an anger that ate at her mind and tore at her eyes, making her want to cry and scream and laugh all at once. Her smile disappeared completely and her hands began to shake. No, no, never again. Never would she let him walk over her, tear her down, break her apart. She was not weaker than him. No, he was nothing; just a Hollow with a soul made of stone and no heart at all.

"NO!" she shouted, her shrill voice echoing through the cell, "No, I won't! You shut up for once, you keep your arrogant remarks to yourself, because you'll never know kindness or love, or happiness! Because for you, everything is just destruction, pain, and death! The only thing you know is exactly what you're made of, and you know what? I think you're the pathetic one, who is so afraid of compassion that you just hide and snivel in the dark like the trash you really are!"

It was then that she felt herself hit the floor, a new bruise forming across her cheek. Yet, the only thing she could think was, "I just got bitch-slapped for the first time in my life."

There was a crash, and angry voices filled the cell. Strong hands grabbed her and started to drag her away, but she put out her arms and gripped the doorframe to halt their progress. Her eyes snapped open to see the small crowd that had somehow made their way into the room. Ichigo, Rukia, Renji… and Ishida, who was holding her by the waist as if his life depended on it. Over the furious shouts, she heard an audible thud, and Ulquiorra doubled over, coughing. At once, Ichigo had him by the throat, smashing his head back against the granite wall. The Espada went limp; he looked somewhat dazed.

"What did you do to Inoue?" Ichigo growled, his nose inches from Ulquiorra's.

A green eye fluttered open and stared balefully at the shinigami. The others fell silent, and only Ichigo's harsh pants could be heard. Orihime was transfixed by the sight, her grey eyes wide as she surveyed the figures.

"Well?" Ichigo said, shaking the arrancar slightly, causing the helmeted remains of his hollow mask to thunk awkwardly against the stone wall.

Suddenly, Ulquiorra jerked his head forward and rammed it against Ichigo's. The two went down with Ichigo on the bottom, and Ulquiorra wasted no time wrapping his pale hands around the shinigami's throat and commencing to strangle him. Ichigo writhed, his superior weight prevailing as he rolled them over, crushing the smaller arrancar to the ground. Zangetsu flashed through the air, stabbing into Ulquiorra's left shoulder. Crimson blood spattered indiscriminately over the shaft of light spread before the open door.

There was another terrible, piercing silence. Orihime stood before the scene, watching the little red puddle grow larger and larger. Ichigo swept his sleeve over a bloody nose and glared down at Ulquiorra, who glared right back up. The latter raised an ashen hand, pulled the zanpakuto from his body with a sickening sound of metal sliding over flesh, and sat up. Ichigo retreated, eyes smoldering as he backed towards the doorway. Their gazes met in the tacit understanding brought only by an unfinished fight.

And Ulquiorra looked away, his emerald eyes closing contemptuously. The tearmarks running beneath them seemed to burn into the pale arrancar's skin under the dim light, like spindly black rivers. Zangetsu fell to the floor with a clang that seemed to resonate throughout the too-quiet cell, blood staining it's blade and flecking haphazardly onto the floor.

Orihime felt the first tears finally burn their way down her face. She looked up at Ichigo's bloodied face and nose, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve, wincing as the bruise dealt earlier by Ulquiorra smarted painfully under her hand.

"Inoue---" Ichigo was cut off as her palm met his cheek with all the force she could muster. He gasped and took a step back, a hand coming up to touch the spot where she had struck him.

"Y-you… you men are all the same." She said tremulously, before disappearing around the corner, her bright hair whipping out of sight.

-

She ran, ran as fast as she could, relishing in the ice-cold clarity that each lungful of frigid air brought to her head and the sting of the wind whipping past. Her hair twisted through the dark behind her like a beacon of light, like a copper flag fluttering tumultuously in an unruly gale.

Her feet thudded across the wooden floorboards, ringing in her ears like thunder. Doors flashed by, but she only caught glimpses of their occupants as she sped past, searching desperately for the one door she needed right now.

With a crash, she burst into her room and flung herself down on the bed, sobbing. She beat the covers with her fists, trying vainly to release this terrible feeling of hatred. It didn't make sense; nothing made sense anymore. Why had she done it, and what had driven her to this point of absolute insanity?

Orihime took a great, gasping breath and raised her head, tangling her fingers in her hair. It wasn't fair. She tried so hard to be the happiness, the light everyone wanted, but only received darkness in return. Nothing. She got nothing. Brushing a hand over her eyes, she took another shuddering breath, trying so hard to make sense of her fate. This hand, this hand that had hurt someone, a loved one. She did not want this hand anymore, for it was a crime against herself.

Her fingers curled into a fist, and she rested her chin on it, feeling the tears still streaming over her cheeks. She pulled her hairpins out, letting her hair fall quietly around her face like a wispy dream. They were her curtains of shame, hiding her from the world as she wallowed in sorrow and confusion. Love seemed like such an impossible, naïve delusion now, like a long lost memory of innocence and simplicity. It was not love that stood by her today.

Today, it was nothing that stood by her side.

-

A shaft of light crawled across the room, glaring off the pristine marble floor. The heavy creaking of unseen hinges stopped, followed immediately by the rapid tap of footsteps.

A figure halted in the middle of the room. It was impossible to distinguish his face as the last source of light closed itself off with the door.

Far above, physically beyond reach, sat Aizen Sousuke. He looked down upon the scene with a benign smile on his face, expecting a new focus for his powers. The singular light above his head threw his features into a sharp relief, turning the smile into something immeasurably more terrible than the simplicity it represented. This effect was not lost on the messenger; a fact that was made glaringly evident as a shudder jolted his frame. Aizen, seeing the proper response, motioned his permission to commence.

The figure in the middle of the room bowed, then said, "They have Ulquiorra Schiffer, my lord." His words echoed incongruously through the chamber, cutting easily through the thick silence.

Aizen smirked a smirk that hid his disappointment. "I already know this."

"I… see a possibility in which he will turn traitor and serve the others."

"Then let him." Aizen replied, as if he did not find this news to be very alarming. "I have plenty of power at my disposal; he is insignificant."

There was a shift among the gathered Espada as they heard this.

"But, my lord. Forgive me if I speak brashly; isn't he, a rather dangerous pawn, out of your control? As long as he is in the enemy's hands…" The person below the throne stared up at Aizen, questioningly.

The shinigami's smile did not waver. His answer was sure and firm as he gave it, "Ulquiorra Schiffer, my numero cuatro Espada... he is of no threat to me; I have complete faith in his loyalty. I have always respected his judgment, and there is no reason for that to stop. But if he should waver in his allegiances, he can do nothing to me. Do not underestimate my influence, my dear arrancar."

His eyes glimmered coolly as he surveyed his subordinates.

"For now… let the events play out."

----

Again, thanks so much to my beta for this chapter :)