SPOILERSSPOILERSSPOILERS

FUCKING SPOILERS, DO YOU HEAR THAT?

As in, chapter 353 spoilers. No, it's not in the story, just in the Author's notes (next), and I really very much needed to say these things. Again, one more time:

SPOILERS

:((((

Chapter 353: Ulquiorra dies. I was completely devastated. DEVASTATED, do you see that? So very upset. I thought there would be more, something on his character, something else to him that we haven't seen nor guessed. Even a flashback. I hoped, I really did, and he ups and dies.

I guess I was more attached to him than I thought. I really liked him as a character and didn't wish he had to go... hell, I wish those spoilers were utter BS, but that's not the case, it never is. Dammit, I really did love him as a character, I even spent time analyzing him so I would predict how he would further influence the plot.

Now I'm sad. And tempted to give up Bleach just because he was the only reason I kept reading. Don't condemn me for it, I (almost) did the same with Death Note. I mean, I respect Kubo's decisions and his right as author, but he can't stop this... disappointment I'm feeling. I would cry, but I'm not that sentimental. And I'd like to think I'm not a creepy fangirl, thank you.

However, I did appreciate Kubo's separation of his character, showing how he differed from the other Espada. One thing that saved my ass from total rejection/depression due to the spoilers/chapter.

Wow, this is getting long. I must have liked him more than I thought. Now all my fics are going to feel really weird... because NONE of it will be canon, only wannabe canon. I'll most likely get over it eventually, but that's the worst part.

I wish he lasted longer. I just didn't want him to die because I didn't want to forget him.

END SPOILERS/RANT

Now, back to business. I was slow at getting this chapter up, but when I read all the new stuff being put up (and how amazing it all was) I felt obligated to get off my fucking ass and do this fucking shit.

The recent chapter still depressed the hell outta me. Don't call me a rabid fangirl, I'd rather not be.

This chapter seemed kind of shaky, I'm still unsure if I like it or not. I just can't wait until to get to the fight scenes. Yes, there will be blood.

BIG, BIG thanks to my beta-reader. I don't know what I'd do without you. Flounder, probably, in crappy writing.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.

-

Chapter 2

-

"Are you sure? I mean, is this really what you want?"

"Is that a luxury I can afford?"

-

He never thought that it would end like this. He thought that he would always reside within Hueco Mundo; live there, die there… within his whitewashed paradise, his grayscale purgatory. He expected nothing less, and nothing more.

Oh, how his judgement had failed.

-

His face was turned away from the bars, right cheek pressed against the cool plaster surface of the wall. The days had sifted away rapidly, and he was definitely feeling the effects of his enforced fast. His pulse crawled along at a snail's pace, and what little energy he had left was now being channeled into his instinctive efforts to stay alive. The only indication that he was still living was the faint rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

That was how they found him, nearly two weeks succeeding his imprisonment, leaning motionless against a dark corner of the world.

Ulquiorra did not make any indication that he heard the rattle of bars as the two unfamiliar shinigami entered. He could not bring himself to lift his head and stare into the face of defeat. He couldn't have done so even if he tried; the muscles in his neck felt like lead.

A hand grasped at the back of his neck --- his arm --- shoulder --- bright lights streaming through his eyelids --- the floor scraped… once --- twice --- and he felt rather than saw the passage of his being dragged past the bars of his cell and into the hallway beyond. This meant nothing. Merely leaving the chamber would not free him of that which it represented. He chose to remain limp.

"On your feet." A smooth, yet unpleasantly nasal voice echoed vaguely next to his ear. "I don't want to be seen with a pathetic wretch for a captive."

He felt a twinge of annoyance at that. Did it really look as if he wanted to be the captive of a pathetic shinigami? Biting his lip, Ulquiorra raised himself to a shaky stand, blinking the fuzzy shapes back into focus.

He saw two fools, staring at him as though he had suddenly sprouted horns… which probably wasn't far enough from the truth to be entirely ridiculous. He wanted nothing more than to cero them out of their miserable existence and then resume the process of putting an end to his own. The memories of the past few days were blurred at best, running into and over each other in a giant pool of delirium. His mind grappled with the confusion, but it was to no avail. He felt as if a hundred years had just passed and that he slept through all of them, not remembering a thing but snatches of… something. Or nothing.

He did remember one thing, however, and that was the sun: bright, unforgiving, and beautiful in its harsh fury.

Ulquiorra realized the shinigami's mouth was moving, but it was moving too fast for him to distinguish what was being said. The world tilted, swayed, and then returned to normal for a moment before lurching off its axis once again. His mind was hazy; he couldn't think further than the sudden cold that wrapped around his body, so cold it felt as if he were burning up from the inside. The walls caved away, then swelled inwards, crushing toward the hallway, falling, smaller --- he grabbed the shinigami's arm as he reeled off balance --- the voices, shouts, and the shinigami leaping back --- the vertical bars were suddenly horizontal --- and he toppled into a wall sideways --- no, that was just the floor ---

… Nothing.

-

The odd sensation of cold cut through to his back, seeping in through the thin cloth that his stark gray uniform was comprised of. He squirmed in discomfort, then realized he had been secured to the table with thick leather straps. If it had been any other situation, he would have ripped through the bonds as if they were nothing but wrapping paper, but he felt so drained he could hardly keep them in focus.

Suddenly, he was aware of a pair of eyes staring down at him, unblinkingly. And then he was aware of two other pairs of eyes. No… three. How weak had this ordeal made him? Blinking owlishly up at the many curious --- or was it disdainful? --- dots staring down at him, he opened his mouth to speak --- and then palm of a hand met his cheek with a loud smack. He snapped his mouth shut in surprise, flinching against his better judgment.

"Do not speak, Espada. We have… orders for you. Mayuri?" It was a strong voice, a woman's voice, that was much clear, but he could not see her properly to recognize her face. The sounds echoed in the space around him, as if spoken from the other end of a long metal pipe. He was surprised to find his once acute mind struggling to comprehend the words being spoken.

"Yes, yes… well," A thin, irritating voice floated in, and Ulquiorra's first desired reaction was to locate the source of the sound and rip its tongue out if only to cease the meaningless noise, but he restrained himself to silent seething. It wasn't as if he would be able to break out of his restraints, anyway. The unpleasant voice went on, somehow managing to elicit an unwilling shiver from Ulquiorra's spine, "It has been a rather complicated task figuring out what to do with you, and then how to ensure that you will behave. But a conclusion has been reached, not without difficulty, I assure you, so listen carefully."

Ulquiorra attempted to clench a hand, but the muscles were so weak he could barely form a fist. He did not like this man, but his curiosity overran his anger and he focused all his attention on that reedy voice. A dry cough tore through the silence before the shinigami continued.

"You will assist us in the Winter War against Aizen, meaning that you will be joining the ranks of our shinigami and fighting the filthy traitor along with us." The smirk that undoubtedly accompanied the statement could be heard in the man's --- Mayuri's? --- slippery voice.

A sudden and inexorable rage flared within Ulquiorra's clouded mind at the words, but he managed to squash it down. The 'Mayuri' continued with a reedy chuckle, sensing Ulquiorra's anger underneath all the pain and lethargy, "You will attend meetings with the captains and receive orders from a division, which we will assign to you later. You are also to give us all information you have about Aizen's plans and the inner workings of the arrancar. However --- " Ulquiorra's blurred peripheral vision picked up on the outline of a bone-white finger, raised importantly to make a point, "If you are to act against orders in any way, any shinigami --- captain, lieutenant, every goddamn fifth seat of whatever division --- will have the authority to kill you on the spot. Understood?"

Ulquiorra said nothing, but continued to stare straight up, assessing the situation. At length, he turned to the blurry shape of Mayuri and said through clenched teeth, "You really are dense. I do not fear death, so it is utterly pointless to threaten me with something as trivial as that. It is disgusting and barbaric; exactly what I expected from trash such as you."

There was a sharp cry of outrage from the woman, and an arm raised itself to strike at him once again, but another hand stopped its progress in midair. It was then that a different voice, a new voice, spoke up.

"Espada… do you not understand that killing you is not our main objective? I realize that death is not a frightening experience for you, but I also realize that you fear the shame and humiliation we are able to inflict upon you. You shall not speak to us in that way again, and you shall maintain whatever respect and decorum you are capable of towards us. If you find such a task to be too difficult, we shall have to resort to other, more… unpleasant measures of securing your loyalty."

Once again, there was little measurable response from the arrancar. He watched the shinigami closely through unfocused eyes, then nodded slowly. It hurt to do so, but for the mean time, he swallowed his pride and consented to the cold conditions set by the filthy shinigami.

For after all, he was no good to Aizen dead, now was he?

-

Her voice cracked, and no sound came out. Her breath felt hollow, as if the air had suddenly solidified and concentrated itself into a substance far beyond air itself, and yet still managed to pass though her lips and clutch at her skin, numbing it. To form words, at this point, would seem be an impossible task in and of itself. She tried anyway, forcing her mouth to move,

"Good morn…"

The words trailed off croakily, and she cleared her throat painfully before trying again. "Good --- good morning."

There. Now she felt somewhat presentable to the world. Smiling faintly at the small triumph, she brushed her copper hair wearily out of her eyes before pulling herself out of bed and quietly exiting the room, feeling her joints crack at the sudden movement.

To her relief, the hallway outside was mercifully empty. Orihime knew she looked a mess, and explaining it to someone would only serve to worsen her situation. It seemed that the whole of Soul Society was avoiding her, and she preferred it that way… at the moment.

The sun was as bright as ever, but she couldn't quite feel its warmth. Her mind felt numb, and she briefly reflected that her efforts to steel herself for this moment had just gone down the drain. She felt every floorboard under her feet, saw every detail with a sharpness that started to hurt her eyes. But for all the flutters and trembles that her senses caught, she felt strangely detached, as if she saw nothing at all.

Orihime's feet carried her along the familiar path to the holding cells, tracing the footsteps that had become a routine up until the most recent week. She had been deathly afraid of facing the former Cuatra Espada again, the memory of their… quarrel still painfully fresh in her mind. But she was the kind of person who liked routine, who needed it, so she forced herself to brace her inner-resolve as she approached the large building that housed one of the most dangerous prisoners in Soul Society. It had never looked more ominous than it did now. As if to agree with her thought, the steel-encased, tatami-style door slid open with an eerie creak, yielding to her touch with a low whine that seemed too horror movie-esque to be real. Quietly, as if it would alleviate her fears, she slipped inside the darkened building.

There were no guards, and no Espada in sight. She breathed a sigh of relief that turned almost immediately to a gasp of comprehension. Ulquiorra was missing. That could only mean they had taken him to be… to be… 'briefed', was the only word she had for it. She knew. She had listened to them back when they thought she hadn't been in earshot, and she had heard exactly what they had been planning for him. The only thing Orihime hadn't expected was for the shinigami to carry out their intentions so soon. She licked her dry, chapped lips before daring to back out of the doorway. A shiver ran up her spine, and she made a quick retreat back to the main path as she contemplated the unfortunate turn of events.

To her great surprise she felt, for the first time in her life, utterly indifferent. She felt… nothing. There was no ripple of worry, no surge of satisfaction; just an empty feeling that told her the terrible truth: she did not care what they did to him, to Ulquiorra Schiffer.

Truthfully, she was rather tired of lying to herself. She had never particularly liked Ulquiorra in any way; he was, in her mind, the capable, albeit mentally disturbed, guard that kept his distance, and yet still managed to be a threat even in his absence. An enemy, no, the enemy. The cold, methodical thing that had represented all of the evils that had plagued her for so long.

On top of all that, Orihime seriously doubted that he liked her in any way, shape, or form, either.

It was a strange feeling, admitting to herself the possibility of being disliked. The thought had never actually occurred to her before. Most would call her overly philanthropic, but in all honesty, Orihime preferred it that way. After all, she had never encountered anyone with the capacity to truly hate, to loath entirely.

Stupid. What was she doing here, thinking about whether or not she liked him? If Ishida could only see her, he would scold her for being idle and then commence to usher her along to her next destination. Well, since he wasn't here, she would have to do it herself, now wouldn't she?

First order of business: catch up on the details of Ulq --- the prisoner's status. Orihime felt a frown tug itself onto her features, the smallest amount of doubt creeping up behind the wall of solemnity. A stray breeze swirled around her head, causing her bangs to flutter around her eyes, as if teasing her, mocking her. She brushed them away exasperatedly, stepping stiffly along the path back towards the division in which she had been residing for the last few weeks.

If only she could convince herself that she really didn't care.

----

A:N Okay, or not okay? Either way, speak up, or I'll never improve!