The Challenge – Chap. 23

(Originally posted 7/28/12.)

XxXxXxX

"I have no further use for you."

Aizen stood tall before her, his eyes dark and deadly beautiful, his face carved in marble, his words echoing in the room. His eyes glittered as he held her at arms' length; he held her, boneless, in his powerful arms, his fingers curving around her forearms.

She gasped as he moved closer. How long did it take a shinigami to draw their sword and stab their opponent?

He gazed at her steadily, and then enfolded her in a warm embrace. So, she imagined, might Momo have felt when he had embraced her. She tensed, yet did not pull away. There was some compulsion that still drew her to this man, despite everything.

She closed her eyes and welcomed the darkness…

XxXxXxX

The light. The light!

It was brilliant, blinding. If he had not had supreme self-discipline he would have cried out.

There had been nothing but darkness for an eternity, and now, even if he squeezed his eyes shut, the brilliance seared his optic nerve. He had become… oversensitive, after not receiving any input for… who knew how many years? Decades?

There was also noise. And a feeling of warmth. It was… excruciating. Terrifying. Confusing.

But his face remained calm even as he felt the bindings being removed by gentle, warm hands. Hands with a sweet, almost familiar scent. He kept his eyes closed, remained impassive even as he felt the unbinding. When had he scented that before?

So he was being released? Or was this a new form of torture by Soul Society, to grant him his senses once again before taking them away for good? It could not have been twenty thousand years. By his internal reckoning, he doubted it had been more than a handful of years.

Again he detected the scent of those hands. He recognized it now with a twinge of inner amusement… and a stronger surge of… something else.

So one of his backup plans had been activated. He had not allowed himself to hope, but now he felt his calm confidence returning. Of course his designs would succeed. Had he not been successful for centuries? Being placed in Soul Society's prison had merely been a small setback.

Voices; he recognized the sounds as voices now. A male and a female. Both he recognized.

At last he opened his eyes and gazed upon his two rescuers. "Ulquiorra and Orihime, how lovely to see you." He was pleased that his voice sounded calm, with its usual timbre, no hint of distress or emotion, no roughness to his vocal cords. For so long, utter control of his facial expression and body language had been vital to his self-preservation. Those reflexes remained intact despite his ordeal.

"Aizen-sama," said Ulquiorra, inclining his head. Orihime continued to work at his bindings without ceasing. It had been the brilliance of her Souten Kesshun that he had seen earlier. Now her hands were touching him, gently, but her eyes were empty, lacking that passionate swirl of conflicting emotions that he had grown accustomed to seeing in her.

He slanted a newly unbound eyebrow at Ulquiorra in inquiry.

"It has been seventeen months since your sentencing, sir. I have carried out your orders involving Inoue Orihime. She is performing as expected."

Aizen nodded. "Thank you, Ulquiorra." His voice was, as always, impeccably polite, while his thoughts surged ahead. Seventeen months? That was not long at all. Ulquiorra was to be commended for his actions.

Ulquiorra's phrasing meant that he had successfully hypnotized her with the spell Aizen had bound into the Hougyoku before the final battle. It was one of several backup plans he had set in place before leaving to face Yamamoto and the others in what he had once assumed would be the final battle before his victory and ascension to the spirit realm.

It also meant that they still had an escape from Muken ahead of them, the Seireitei's maximum security prison. It was not over by any means. He began to run over his memories of the prison layout, instantly framing and discarding several potential escape routes. Likely Ulquiorra would have planned some type of distraction to ease their flight.

"Sir, there are some new developments in Soul Society you should be aware of," Ulquiorra went on in his expressionless voice. "The Vandenreich have captured Hueco Mundo and are now moving on Seireitei. Currently the city is in flames and there is a great deal of disruption in all of Soul Society. I have set detonation charges throughout the prison so that they may not immediately notice that you are our target."

"Ah," Aizen murmured. "I wondered whether the Vandenreich would move so soon." He had known of the Quincy group which had its stronghold not too far from Hueco Mundo, but aside from a few border skirmishes which had been promptly crushed, they had never dared mount a full-scale invasion of his stronghold. With his fall, of course, Las Noches had been left vulnerable to attacks from predators, and it seemed the Vandenreich were now swelled with their success. No matter. He would deal with them when it came time to do so. In the meantime, they were providing a very useful diversion for his escape plans.

He glanced up at Ulquiorra. "And you are correct that a mass breakout during a war will likely prove sufficiently distracting that we can make our escape. Good work." He tilted his head to one side, considering, his thoughts moving rapidly. He always excelled in devising strategies under pressure, and once again he could feel the adrenaline bubbling. He turned his head back to Ulquiorra.

"When we leave, I want you to disable all but one of the surveillance video cameras outside this cell."

The black-haired Espada never questioned his master's orders. "As you wish, sir."

Aizen nodded with satisfaction. It was valuable to have a servant who was both intelligent and highly loyal. And… his eyes traveled over Orihime's attractive form as he felt a hormonal surge in his long deprived loins… it would be pleasant to have a reunion with Orihime once more. It was most fortunate that it had been the backup plan involving her that had been activated. His eyes traced the curves of her body and returned to her blank and expressionless face. Regrettably, she was not really here, so he would restrain himself physically for now. Mostly.

"Orihime," he murmured. "I am grateful to you for your assistance with my escape."

She turned her depthless eyes to him. "You are welcome, Aizen-sama," she said tonelessly.

He injected warmth into his voice, a caressing tease. "Ah, but Orihime, are you not glad to see me again? Do you not wish to express your love?" He watched carefully as her eyes changed. The hypnotic spell would not cause her to do anything against her own nature, but if properly guided, it could once again elicit the emotions she had felt for him, and she would then act accordingly.

"Yes…" she muttered, confusion surfacing in her eyes. "Aizen-sama?"

He stood, free at last of the horrible black bindings that had kept him confined for so long. Stretching unhurriedly, he made sure that his limbs would once more obey him. Then he swept Orihime into his arms. He could feel her heart pounding against his, could smell her unique scent rising from the top of her head as he buried his nose in her hair. His hormones spiked and it was all he could do to keep himself calm and dispassionate. The familiar feelings of lust were also accompanied by a rush of an unusual emotion, an oddly overwhelming feeling of… what? He shook his head. Likely it was a result of his long sensory deprivation. In any event, he had no time for emotions now. There was an escape to be planned.

He nodded at Ulquiorra to take the point, and then stumbled slightly as he moved toward the door. At once both of them came to his side to support him. As they went through the door, Orihime placed his arm around her shoulders. He paused, and without looking up, knowing where the surveillance camera was with the best angle, he turned her slightly and smiled down at her, allowing all the affection he felt to show in his smile.

Then he took her head in his hands and bent to kiss her. Orihime's eyes were wide, but as she saw his smile, an answering one appeared on her lips, and he saw all her old emotion for him rising in her eyes.

He could not stop himself. His fingers tightened on her head as he drew her to him and brought his lips to hers. There was nothing gentle about him as he plunged into her mouth, allowing his hunger for her free rein for the moment, taking her lips aggressively, his tongue sweeping into her mouth which went soft and yielding at his advance. She sighed gently and relaxed in his hold, which only had the effect of maddening him. He wanted her. He wanted her now. She pressed her body against his and he ground his hips into her. It was agonizing.

He was surprised at the depth and power of his passions. He could not recall feeling like this for… a very long time. Even when he had taken her before in Las Noches he had been more restrained. Another effect of sensory deprivation. Presumably it would subside as his system became once again accustomed to normal sensory inputs.

Reluctantly but very gently he drew away from her. "I would stay with you like this forever, my dear, but we have an escape to complete," he murmured in her ear, and she nodded, something odd flaring in her eyes. He took her hand and the two of them followed Ulquiorra down the long prison hall as the Espada fired Cero after Cero, clearing the way for them as they ran.

XxXxXxX

He took another sip of the liquid and his eyes closed. Despite his long life, he had never tasted actual ambrosia. Yet he imagined such an elixir might taste like this. Sweet and intense and invigorating, each drop of the liquid was magic on his tongue. It tasted like bliss, sparking with the freshness of the brilliant fruit grown from the rich soil of the earth, carrying primal energy and life into his body.

Fresh squeezed orange juice had never tasted so good.

His reiatsu was still bound, but he could feel his weakened, desiccated spiritual centers rejuvenating with each sip of this incredible nectar.

Ulquiorra slid a plate covered with a steaming omelet onto the table before him and his nose wrinkled at the heavenly odor of the food.

"Thank you, Ulquiorra," he murmured as he picked up a fork. They had escaped Muken and successfully made the dimensional shift to a hidden base at a remote end of Hueco Mundo, an unprepossessing warehouse that had the valuable addition of large quantities of both spiritual and physical shielding, not to mention a fully equipped lab and cell block set up especially for Szayel's forays into the human world. The kitchenette where he now ate was utilitarian and dusty, having been unused for some time. Nevertheless, it satisfied his purposes.

His first meal after the long deprivation was almost too overwhelming. Although it was quite simple, he could feel his taste buds and olfactory nerves firing in utter joy. Surely no one had ever enjoyed a meal more.

Ulquiorra was speaking again and he forced himself to concentrate on the words even as he chewed the divine concoction that was sending blissful explosions of flavor straight into his brain.

"Szayel has sedated the woman and is monitoring her vital signs as you ordered, sir."

"Good," he replied. He was pleased his voice was calm and under control as always. "I want you alone in the room with her when she is released from the hypnotic controls. Keep her restrained while you show her the video of our escape. I am placing her well-being in your hands, Ulquiorra."

"I understand, sir," came the reply. "I will watch Szayel."

"I need a few days to fully recover and to re-establish contact with my agents in the three worlds. I will let you know when I am ready to meet with her again. In the meantime, I want her kept safe and away from contact with others. I wish to control the flow of information to her personally, do you understand?"

"Of course, Aizen-sama. It shall be done as you command."

As he savored another delicious bite of omelet, Aizen wondered anew at the flood of sensation and emotion swamping his mind. He felt delight and what felt disturbingly akin to gratitude at Ulquiorra's dedication. He definitely needed time alone to get himself under control. It would not do to have inconvenient emotions driving him during this delicate time. He was bereft of his powers and extremely vulnerable. It was not… prudent to be relying on others. He needed all his wits about him; he needed to be able to act decisively and without limitations.

He frowned. It had been a very long time since he recalled feeling such potent emotions. He had certainly experienced… fondness for certain of his subordinates in the past, but never anything quite as strong as he was feeling now. It could lead to inefficiency in his actions.

He had spent years burning out all feelings, all morals, all limitations from his soul. It would not do to have the work of centuries undone by a mere few months under sensory deprivation.

XxXxXxX

He had once been disgusted by his own intrinsic weakness, by the way he felt physically ill after his righteous revenge. In the Rukongai, having a conscience was only a limitation. The people who thrived were the ones who were the most ruthless. The soft ones were crushed.

He had decided early on that he would turn himself into someone powerful, someone no one could ever harm again.

It meant beating the weakness out of himself. To become strong in every possible way: physically, mentally, magically, and unfettered by morality.

It had taken decades. He trained himself relentlessly, just as he worked himself into peak physical condition or practiced kido or a kata over and over again, polishing every single detail until it was perfect. He applied the same ruthless conditioning to his mental state. At first he noted an inner shrinking during his actions even as he preserved a cold outer shell. Then finally came the welcome numbness after a kill.

He realized, one day, that he no longer cared about any other soul. It was… liberating.

He hadn't noticed, at first, that he had lost the ability to feel pure joy. That the most intense emotional experiences were now out of his reach. He had ignored the loss as a necessary step on the way to his goals. And… he had found other means to amuse himself.

He had sought pleasure in more subtle and complex forms of manipulation, toying with people around him merely to satisfy his own desires and whims. He recalled how he had finally taken Matsumoto Rangiku to his bed despite her attachment to his top lieutenant: the elaborate plan he had concocted involving a disposable sixth seat in their division, and the use of Kyouka Suigetsu and a rather large quantity of sake to ensure that neither Rangiku nor Gin ever knew what had really happened that night. How he had savored gloating to the terrified and bound sixth seat as he forced her to witness his crimes, there in the large bed with the dazed and drunken Rangiku; how pleasurable he had found it to set a hypnotized and inebriated Gin on the hapless sixth seat as he informed her calmly of her fate when her part in his scheme was over. Of what would happen to her when she was no longer of any use to him. What happened to anyone who was no longer of use to him.

He had maneuvered Hinamori Momo, that last night in Soul Society, into believing that she had seduced him. What a performance he had delivered afterward, even shaking with supposed remorse. Oh it was delicious to see her drowning in guilt, agonizing over her 'transgression.' He knew that it would make his 'death' the next morning even more painful for her.

Yes… he had reveled in his evil. Not even a hint of a conscience had remained. It had been the perfect state to ascend to absolute power.

And then it had all gone wrong, and he had been left in the dark and silent prison.

Still, he had thought he could use it as yet another trial, yet another way to become stronger… and he had indeed developed a new ability. He had his escape plans. It was merely a matter of waiting until one of them came to fruition. He was patient, and he was immortal.

And yet… and yet… something had changed.

Somehow, in the dark and quiet, some part of his soul... had thrown off all his careful designs.

It was another setback. Unfortunate. He would have to repeat the steps he had taken before to return to his neutral state, free of limitations.

In the meantime, he had these bothersome… feelings… for people around him.

Especially… for a certain auburn-haired woman.

What was he going to do about that?

XxXxXxX

Sitting at his desk, he watched the surveillance cameras track the intruders into his building. They were approaching Orihime's cell, and he sighed as he checked his sword in its sheath. He still needed her; he was still bereft of his powers, and Ulquiorra was away on an errand. He sent a quick message to his former fourth Espada, then moved silently down the hall to Orihime's location. Despite not having his powers, he had trained for decades to fight without spiritual power. He knew how to use various weapons, and had studied several human martial arts. It always paid to be cautious.

As he approached, he could see several doors in the corridor had been kicked open. Voices were coming from her cell. Sudden anger burgeoned in him, and he quickened his pace. He slipped into an alcove as two men exited her cell. After they passed by, he continued on to the broken door of her cell, where another man was confronting his prisoner.

He stared at the man's back as he heard Orihime's soft voice bracing her attacker. Another surge of emotion swamped him. She was so brave, fighting back with nothing. Could he be feeling… pride? Without even thinking he struck, a clean stab directly into the man's back, killing him instantly.

As the man fell, Orihime stared at him, her eyes wide with shock… and terror. He found himself almost overwhelmed by the sight of her, those huge grey eyes, the thick fall of auburn hair, her beautiful and abundant body in those deliciously revealing casual clothes. He wanted nothing more than to kiss that terror away, to feel her body once more pliant under his hands…

Of course, he allowed nothing to show on his face. He had not been hiding his emotions for two centuries for nothing. His mask was perfect. He knew that he could not show her he had emotions for her. He could not reveal his weakness.

He found refuge in his role of a charming gentleman, as he fed her the most convincing of lies.

But he could not keep his hands off her. Even as he bantered and played the game, he found himself wanting to touch her, stroke her hair, move close to her. He took her hand as they ran down the hall toward the outside entrance. He picked her up and lifted her onto the platform as they made their escape with Ulquiorra steering. When he held her in his arms, felt her flesh soft, warm, and fragrant against his body, it took every ounce of his resolve to keep his touch gentle, to release her without giving away that he never wanted to let her go.

He sat beside her, acutely aware of her presence, so near to his own. Surely she would notice how he turned to her, how willingly he discussed his plans with her, how eagerly he chose to speak to her. When she mentioned how he had kissed her during the prison breakout, the memory set him on fire. He moved closer to her, touched her cheek, even as she shrank away from him.

He found that it was easy to play the part of a man in love… easier than it had ever been. He even found himself being more truthful and candid with her than he had planned. He admitted he was powerless; he returned her hairpins, although he had originally planned to withhold them from her until she agreed to serve his purposes.

He told himself that it would be easier to manipulate her if she felt more powerful than him. Although there was a risk in allowing her to know his physical weakness, he knew her well enough by now. Her essential compassion would not allow her to harm him, despite what she believed about his past crimes or his current plans. She might defend herself against an attack, but she would not destroy him in cold blood, no matter how much she believed he deserved it.

When he finally broke down her defenses, and kissed her… he felt triumph as he saw her response. It was so close… she was so close to falling for him again; he could see all the signs, even as she pushed him away.

He told her the truth about his imprisonment, the story he thought he would never admit, the agony of sensory deprivation.

When she resisted to the end, he decided it was time to pour on the charm and the lies, and tell her how important she was to him, how much she meant to him, how much he wanted her…

As she stared at him, her lovely eyes wide, passion and fury mingling in her irises as she finally… finally submitted to him, he scooped her up in his arms and felt her trembling. His own body was shaking with the effort of restraining his own passion.

And when he made love to her at last, it surprised him how violently he took her, how intensely he wanted her, but when she whimpered a moment in pain, something that had never stopped him before, he paused and became infinitely gentle. He felt endless patience with her. As they lay in bed giving pleasure to each other, he felt tender, as though he wanted nothing more than to please her. And when she reached her release, it triggered his own, the thought of her ecstasy driving him to a peak more intense than he had ever felt in his long life.

He found himself more eloquent than ever in his blandishments, the lies he had perfected over centuries to entice a lover more deeply into his control… he had been inspired, that night.

He thought afterwards that it must surely have been the effect of the sensory deprivation.

He had been happier than he could remember being.

XxXxXxX

But the next morning, she had once more demonstrated the danger she posed to him. Ulquiorra had even pointed out that he was delaying their movement for no good reason; she was already weakening him. And then…his reluctance to give up his indulgence in her presence had led to their detection by Soul Society. A potentially fatal error.

Fortunately, Yamamoto had wished to negotiate, not strike. It had still been a deadly opening. But then… she had made that absurd demand that he lower his defenses. She had demanded he leave himself vulnerable to attack. It was something he could not tolerate.

Reluctantly, he realized that she would be a liability to him no matter what.

He had never accepted liabilities or limitations on his personal ambitions. Every one of them had been destroyed.

XxXxXxX

She had still been of use to him, however.

He had required a specific performance of her during the negotiation with Soul Society's representative, and made it quite clear to her what she needed to do.

And afterwards, when he had successfully maneuvered Yamamoto's representative into giving him exactly what he had wanted from the beginning, he needed her for the use he had always intended for her, to release his bindings and re-enable the Hougyoku once again. He had always known it would take heroic persuasion to get her to obey his wishes, to unleash his power upon an unsuspecting world. It had been a supreme challenge, to manipulate this woman into performing actions that went against everything she ever believed in, that she would allow the devil himself to rule the universe.

It had been delicious. She had capitulated in every way.

And when it was done, he exulted in his triumph. He had - almost - won. Soon it would all be over. The power rose within his soul, intoxicating, overwhelming.

He would stand on top of the world.

XxXxXxX

He looked down at the merely human woman beside him, the woman who had given him so much… yet who had become in the end another liability. As he gazed upon her, he felt complex, confused emotions swirling within him, and it made him angry. A god should not feel such emotional upheaval.

Although his face was calm, he told himself that it was time to rid himself of this weakness. By destroying her, he would rebuild the damage that had been done to him by the sensory deprivation in Muken. He would harden his soul once again, make himself impervious to weakness, invulnerable, limitless.

He smiled at her very gently. "Orihime," he said, "I have no further use for you."