A:N
Hello hello, sorry if I say that too much, but eloquent greetings over teh intrewebs are hard...
Thank you to all you amazing people who reviewed, added this to alerts, or even fav'd it.
And thank you to my fantastic beta-reader. You are so frikkin' awesome... I can't even put it in words. You are made of awesome, how's that?
Disclaimer: Bleach and it's characters belong to its author. I don't own anything.
Chapter 3
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"Their revulsion is evident. I can read them far too easily."
"It'll get better. The hate, I mean."
-
Despair was something he understood very well; sometimes even too well. But rage was something entirely different. As was hatred… for hatred was a thing in and of itself. He thought he understood, he believed what he saw, and he strove to interpret his findings. They were such pathetic fools, these shinigami… flaunting their pitiful emotions as if he really cared to see them.
It was true that he knew very little of the human heart, but this was something he could see very well. Therefore, he concluded, the heart was not so much an enigma as he had originally thought it to be.
-
Soul Society was in utter chaos.
With only one battle into the war, Aizen had sent the shinigami reeling. Whole divisions had been destroyed, and many others were disabled due to the severe injuries and lack of available personnel. The few able-bodied captains were scrambling to prepare for the overwhelmingly impossible tasks that lay ahead and still somehow maintain their own division, all while trying to restore some semblance of order. Compared to the all-encompassing, panicked confusion of the Seireitei, a single prisoner seemed to be a positively trivial matter.
But the need to overcompensate was prevalent, and unnecessary complications arose.
"What do you propose we do with him? I still think we should have executed him." Second Division Captain Soifon said detachedly, marching briskly towards her destination, the prisoner barracks. Beside her strode Sixth Division Captain Kuchiki Byakuya, equally harried in his movements. He coughed lightly before speaking.
"We mustn't jump to conclusions. After all, this is the Fourth Espada we are talking about; he may be of some use to us." The logic behind his words was blindingly obvious, but so was too the blatant disgust and disdain that the stoic captain's tone held. Soifon's lip curled, whether in amusement or irritation was unknown, before retorting,
"I am not disagreeing about that. I'm certain he would know a great deal. But it's a dangerous opening to exploit." Her words lacked their usual resolve, instead sounding mechanical, as if it was what she was made to say. Byakuya raised a thin eyebrow as they turned a sharp corner, their pace seeming to increase with each step.
"Then what would you propose? He is no use to us dead. This arrangement… it is for the better." There was a note of derision in Byakuya's voice as he said this. Hesitation was not something he appreciated.
Soifon looked away, her mouth forming a thin line. "Then interrogate him. Either way, there will be a time when his purpose has reached a limit and the risk has reached a maximum. He will have to be killed as soon as possible." Her tone was clipped, as if she was unsure how to face this particular dilemma in the face of all the other highly apparent dilemmas centering around the Seireitei.
Byakuya harrumphed scornfully. "Executing him will do little to solve our problems."
"Keeping him won't, either." Soifon shot back. Again, with the doubt, the clipped tone… Byakuya sighed and swiftly turned down another hallway, his sea-green scarf trailing behind him like a proud flag. He could feel Soifon's disdainful glower burning into the back of his haori, but he quickly pushed it to the bottom of his mind.
He didn't have time for half-hearted arguments.
-
It was dark by the time Orihime allowed herself out of the Fourth Division's headquarters. For once, she felt useful; her healing powers had proved to be a great asset to the shinigami, and, given the many casualties, she oftentimes found herself working late into the night. It did not bother her. Rather, the long hours served only to give her a warm sense of pride that she at last had something to offer.
The air was warm despite the late hour. A certain humidity hung about it, and the possibility of a storm suddenly occurred to her. The breeze was faint, crawling sluggishly along as if weighed down by the water that struggled to fall even as it was borne upwards.
A small sound to her left caught her attention and she turned.
Ulquiorra was standing there, watching her. The moon cast no reflection in his eyes, the silvery light sliding over them like water on rock. The deep green seemed to take only from the darkness around him: flat, empty pools of color that waited for a ripple to be cast. She could see the faint emotion roiling just beneath the surface, the outward stillness a contradiction to the complexity of the mind within. It was like a lake; a dark abyss of a lake that a person might think they knew and understood its lack of depth, only because they could see their reflection upon its surface.
An involuntary shudder ran up her spine at the thought. As her sienna eyes caught his viridian ones, she couldn't help but shy away at the ice she saw behind them. His gaze was hard, holding a harsh sense of finality as he stared her down like a predator might do to its prey.
Neither of them moved. The stray breeze seemed to wrap around Orihime's lungs as she inhaled it, firmly rooting her to the spot. Ulquiorra was as statuesque as always, with only his expressive, yet burningly intense gaze bringing static to the situation. He was staring at her with those emerald eyes of his, looking right through her, burning her.
With those ice-cold emerald eyes.
They could have stood there forever had a shinigami not appeared by shunpo, swiftly followed by a second. Ulquiorra's head swiveled over to stare at the new arrivals, regarding them with a calm indifference that bordered on annoyance. The moment was immediately broken, like glass shattered on a sidewalk, and Orihime felt herself shiver as she was freed from Ulquiorra's intense gaze.
"Espada," the shinigami said coldly, "We are leaving."
Orihime knew her confusion showed on her face, for Ulquiorra glanced back towards her and said in a curious tone devoid of all emotion, "I am going to the human world. The shinigami have decided that I would be of greatest efficacy aiding in the recovery of battle sites there."
A beat was skipped as he looked away, shadows engulfing the planes of his narrow face. Then,
"I will kill any remaining hollows residing there."
With a flicker of movement, the three figures vanished, and Orihime was left to stand alone in the moonlight.
-
Screams filled the thick air, the echoing howls and shrieks of Hollows as they flailed away from the shining blades, from death. Ulquiorra felt no remorse as his bare hand plunged into the face of yet another wailing victim, a sickly crimson soaking into his torn white sleeve up to the elbow. They came in snarling packs, blinded by the all-encompassing hunger, and then died in packs, cut down by the merciless steel that healed with pain. His shoulder twitched and he whirled, fingers slashing through another as it was rent in two. Pathetic.
They were all so pathetic.
A different cry rose up past the others, and he turned slowly, to watch. A Hollow, animalistic and brutal, towered above a fallen foe, whose cries for help only served to further enrage the creature. An Adjuchas, Ulquiorra mused, one with substantial reiatsu. The shinigami scrabbled on the bloodied, broken ground, trying in vain to recover his lost zanpakuto. The others shouted, closing in as they tried to save their comrade. Ulquiorra blinked, drinking in the scene with somnolent unconcern.
He was standing before the Hollow in a flash. Regarding it coldly, he parted his lips as if to speak, but no words formed. Instead, Ulquiorra inhaled, softly and quietly, yet with a sense of urgency that edged his breath with purpose. The Adjuchas thrashed and convulsed, rearing back as it staggered away, trying to escape its impending death.
Ulquiorra pressed his lips together in a hard, disapproving line, and the Hollow fell, all life sucked from its grotesque, serpentine body. Dark eyes regarded the fallen form with disdain before he stepped away, back to his place within the shadows.
The shinigami all watched him with a wary eye, still ignorant of his full capabilities. But what they did understand was the effectual help he provided and, secretly, they felt a certain sense of security as they realized this.
-
Rest was not something he needed.
As the rest of the reconnaissance team slept, he stood alone, marveling the silence that was his world of the past, the present, and… he could say nothing for the future. The uncertainty frightened him, but he refused to acknowledge it. He could afford no distractions, especially concerning his current position. Although, he thought, a small squad of useless shinigami poses little threat to me…
Hmph. Asinine fools; they placed too much faith in his supposed loyalty. And to think they could kill him… shinigami could not equal Hollows in strength. If he so desired, he could slaughter the lot of them and take his leave. And yet, he could not bring himself to turn and carry out this most logical course of action. His body would not comply and his mind seemed to lack the strength to force himself to.
"Arrancar."
He half turned to stare at the shinigami out of the corner of his eye. It was her, the woman who had hit him back in that cold room. She was watching him through narrowed eyes, her mouth set in a hard scowl. Save for her small stature, Ulquiorra would have compared her to Grimmjow; the same face, same expression, so easily read through thinly veiled haughtiness. He ignored her as she approached, stopping short somewhere behind him.
"Aren't you going to sleep?" the tone was suspicious, biting, but the were words spoken out of free will. For Ulquiorra, this was the first shinigami to speak to him outside of necessity, and he felt a faint ripple of amusement that came out as a scoff.
Lip curling into a sneer, he said, "About as much you are, apparently."
He sensed her stiffen and smirked inwardly. So easy to manipulate.
"I would expect nothing less from an arrancar." She said calmly, like a tempest wind at the eye of a storm. Vaguely, he noted that her self-control was harder to break than that fool Grimmjow's. He pressed harder.
"And it seems that I have expected too much of the shinigami."
He could hear her breath at his shoulder as she drew ever closer. She was irritated, but not angry. He wanted her to be angry. He continued, irate,
"You are clearly delusional; do you think that you could win this war? Did you honestly think that I, the Cuatra Espada, would actually make a difference in your feeble attempts towards victory?" He refused to look at her, to see how close she really was. This woman was not worth his time; he could have turned around and killed her if he so wished, repercussions aside. It would have been an understatement to say that he was surprised, though, when she began to whisper into his ear with one of the coldest tones he had ever heard from another being, besides himself.
"If it were up to me, Espada, you would have been killed as soon as you were brought through the gates of the Seireitei. I, for one, see no reason to keep you alive." She was still calm. Ulquiorra closed his eyes, the prospect of a challenge tugging at his consciousness. But her words twisted around his mind, betraying the insecurity he tried so hard to hide. It chafed, reopening the raw wound even as he struggled to ignore it. The words were out of his mouth before he knew what he had done.
"I see no reason, either."
The woman's surprise hit him like a wall, mingling with his own. She drew level with him, but he refused to look at her. He was acting on impulse again, and it disgusted him. He would not humiliate himself further by conceding to the enemy's requests. The shinigami inhaled and he braced himself for a solid round of verbal abuse.
"Don't you?"
Blinking, he processed her question. It did not sound like a threat, nor did it feel like one. The hostility seemed to ease between them as they reached a tacit discernment of each other's pains. But even though he had only one answer for her question, he turned the word around and around in his mouth before he spat it out.
"No."
He could feel the tension siphon away as he said this. He watched out his peripheral vision as she turned to face him.
Minutes passed before she spoke.
"There was a time when I thought the same as you. I thought that the world was nothing, that existing was only a specious meaning to hide the nothingness that was the truth."
There was nothing he could say to this. He still avoided her gaze, staring straight ahead. The silence stretched again, snapping and creaking before she snorted, crossing her arms.
"How humiliating. I am comparing myself to an arrancar, to you, of all people. Well… I can't help but wonder," she said, pausing as she chose her words, "Would you compare yourself to one of us?"
His eyes hardened imperceptibly. "Never."
"…As expected."
The phrase was uttered with an underlying layer of skepticism and he felt the inexplicable need to prove himself, to this shinigami of all things.
"Did you honestly think I would? Tell me, what is it that you find so doubtful?"
His accusation did nothing to dissuade her. "As I said… I once thought the same as you."
He glanced at her and their eyes met for the first time.
And the hate between them was transcended by understanding.
-
An ominous stillness filled the stale air. Not a single being moved among the shadows, creating the illusion of empty space as the rustle of cloth reached their ears even before those of footsteps. Aizen Sousuke entered the room, followed closely by Ichimaru Gin and Tousen Kaname. As the door only began to swing shut and the baleful light still streamed through in an endless tide, the shinigami was cast in an ethereal glow that, for a moment, gave the impression of the god he believed himself to be. Then, with a thud, darkness fell and he was Aizen again… but still a god, nonetheless.
With a sweeping gaze, he took note of the silent occupants as they held their positions around the hall. A brief smile, as was his customary greeting, and he spoke.
"My dear Espada…" he began, his initial smile waning into a falsely benign smirk, "Welcome to the first meeting with our new brothers and sisters."
Aizen surveyed the dark shapes as they leaned closer, revealing faces thrown in harsh relief from the artificial light. There were ten, and six new faces filled the gaps in the circle. A malignant air hung about the group, foreshadowing for the events to come.
The God smiled, and his subordinates flared.
"I have nothing more to say. Commence attack on Soul Society at once."
A Garganta opened and warm light flooded the room, which was almost immediately blotted out as the Espada swarmed the gateway.
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A:N
Ha, how was that? Not too messed up?
Fight scene coming up next chapter, because I fucking love writing fight scenes.