A/N: BROS.
If you've read my story, My Espada Boys, you are gonna LOVE this chapter.
If you haven't, maybe this will encourage some of you to do so. I don't know...maybe you'll like this chapter enough to do that. If you do, don't forget to drop a review.
(I ordered the new All Time Low CD and it came. Guess what I'll be listening to on repeat for the next billion trillion million years)
Oh, and ... If you guys want to see how I draw, check out my dA: thecatwiththehat. deviantart. com (remove spaces) I am going to be putting up a pretty cool picture there soon. My sister was in the hospital last week and my mom wasn't calling and I was worried and needed something to distract myself with so...I drew a self portrait and it came out...scarily accurate O_o So if anyone has an insatiable curiosity as to what I look like, drop by there sometime in the future.
Ulquiorra kept his eyes shut tightly for a long time. Even though the bright light was mostly gone, his retinas were still burning and the muscles in his eyelids weren't responding to his commands. So he laid in humiliation.
How had they beaten him so easily?
He could write it off as him being confused. That was the easy solution. The problem was, that wasn't like him. He wasn't the type to let emotion get involved. He wouldn't usually allow himself to be distracted so easily.
So why did he?
Ulquiorra was shaken out of his thoughts by the feeling of someone poking his forehead curiously. He opened his eyes very slowly, and then almost let out a yell at what he saw.
Two emerald eyes that mirrored his exactly were two inches from his face.
Ulquiorra bolted upright, sitting at ninety degrees and taking in the setting in a split second. He appeared to be lying in some sort of sand, surrounded by a wooden frame to hold it in. The sandy box was about five feet square, and he was lying diagonally inside it, barely fitting. Around the box were some kind of chopped up wood chips, leading down at a slope to colorful pieces of play equipment. The entire park was surrounded by a tall black fence with multiple gates set in it.
He whipped his head around. His eyes bulged and his mouth opened the slightest bit at what he saw.
A child version of himself was sitting in the sandbox, head cocked curiously. There was no helmet on his head, and his eyes were slightly larger and more feminine looking. He was wearing a baggy olive green T-shirt, stained, ripped blue jeans, and holey sneakers with one pale toe sticking out. He had a large scar on his forehead and the left side of his neck, a kind of weirdly wrinkled spot. Faded green lines trailed down from his large, glittering eyes.
"Who are you?" Ulquiorra demanded.
"That is rude," said the boy. "I could ask the same thing of you, mister. You're dressed kind of funny, you know?"
Ulquiorra glanced down at himself. For some reason he was in his first release form. He felt his head. Sure enough, the two-tiered helmet was perched atop his cranium.
"Yeah, what kind of a man wears a dress, anyway?" sneered a voice that Ulquiorra recognized with a sinking feeling. He turned, thinking he couldn't be any more surprised, but was proven sadly wrong.
A younger version of Grimmjow stood sassily behind him, one hand propped on his miniature hip. His hair was the same color, arranged messily on top of his head, just the same as the Grimmjow that Ulquiorra knew and hated so well. While his eyes were slightly larger, younger-looking, and his face was not as angular, the similarities were such that they took Ulquiorra's breath away. Instead of a mask across his cheek, however, his face was marred by the same pale, wrinkled spot as the miniature version of himself, almost as if it was extremely waterlogged or had been covered for a long time and then suddenly uncovered.
Ulquiorra felt slightly faint.
"Excuse me," came the slightly raspy voice of his prepubescent self, "but are you my daddy?"
"You have a daddy," Grimmjow II reminded him.
"No, I mean my real daddy."
"Mr. Ichigo is your real daddy," Grimmjow II persisted.
"Grimm, stop it. You know what I mean. My real daddy." His smaller self didn't seem to know the word to describe it, so he gave up and turned to Ulquiorra. "Are you?"
"I am not." Ulquiorra pushed himself from the ground. "Where am I?"
"Did you fall from space?" Grimm asked eagerly.
"What's your name, anyway, mister?" asked his younger self.
"Ulquiorra Schiffer."
Both children gasped and turned to each other, exchanging an obvious look before turning back to Ulquiorra. "His too!" Grimmjow II exclaimed, flinging his arm toward his friend. "Hey Hallie! Come see this!"
Who's this? A friend? Ulquiorra had no idea, so he was shocked to see Halibel – as a young girl – walking towards them with a curious lilt to her step, yet casual, as if she had all the time in the world. Her blond hair looked as though it had been cut with safety scissors, her teal eyes seemed to crafty for her young face, and she was wearing an overlarge burgundy sweater rolled up over the lower half of her face, matched with black leggings and furry boots.
Halibel II didn't say anything, simply raised an eyebrow at her friends.
"Look. He says his name's Ulquiorra Schiffer, just like this Ulquiorra. And he looks just like him. Except the dress."
Ulquiorra could feel his nerves being shot. "Could someone please explain to me where I am?"
"Planet Earth," Ulquiorra II said seriously.
"Earth?" So this must be the World of the Living. Ulquiorra looked down at the children, who were all looking back at him wonderingly. He was beyond confused at this point, and was just feeling weary acceptance. "Are all the Espada alive here?"
At the word Espada, all three children stiffened. "Are you one of them?" Grimmjow II asked quietly.
"One of who?"
"One of the people from Soul Society," Ulquiorra II elaborated.
"They're meanie butts." Grimmjow II looked quite enthusiastic about this statement. Halibel II rolled her eyes.
"I am not from Soul Society. I am from Hueco Mundo."
"Ohh…that was the Hollow place, right?" Grimmjow II asked.
Ulquiorra's nerves were fraying again. "Are there any adults here I can talk to that know about Soul Society?" he asked the children. He hated relying on such undeveloped beings for assistance but there was no other choice that he could see. He was forced to accept help from these juveniles or not get help at all. Nor did he want to harm them, for he did not know what might happen to his present self if he killed his young self.
"Yes, there's mommy," Ulquiorra II said, then turned and yelled over his shoulder, "MOMMY! COME HERE!"
Ulquiorra shifted from foot to foot barely perceptibly, waiting for his young self's mother to appear. When she finally did, puffing, it took his breath away, stunning him from words.
Time had been more than kind to Orihime Inoue. It was clear that she was in her mid-twenties, perhaps ten years later than she was the last time he had seen her. She wore her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and wore thin framed, square shaped glasses on her nose. Her figure was impeccable as always, and she was clothed in a simple outfit befitting, perhaps, a school teacher. Her face was flushed from running up the hill at her son's call, and she was carrying a boy who was perhaps four years old. A little girl was following at her heels, the same age as the boy.
Orihime lifted her eyes and connected with Ulquiorra's, and she froze. Several seconds passed in which Orihime and Ulquiorra simply stared at each other in silence. A slight breeze picked up, blowing small tendrils of hair across her face and sending her flowery skirt fluttering about her knees.
Slowly she set down the boy in her arms and took a step towards him, still gazing wonderingly at his face.
"Ulquiorra?" she asked, and her voice sent a little thrill through him.
"Onna," he acknowledged, and suddenly she was in his arms, squeezing the life out of him. Her head rested just next to his Hollow hole, and he could feel her body shaking. Slowly he raised his arms to wrap around her body, holding her tightly to his frame.
Even though she was not the Orihime he loved, his body still longed to fall into hers. How he had missed this sensation of holding her close to him. What with his Onna not knowing who he was – even sending him letters full of anger and distrust – he had been feeling empty. So empty. He was reminded how it felt to be filled, filled to the brim, overflowing.
"Ulquiorra," she cried into his uniform, and her voice was as broken as he felt.
Holding her to him, he was reminded of everything they had once done –
It was her cheeks, he decided; definitely her cheeks. They were so soft, so smooth; they were always flushed so beautifully whenever she looked at him. Under his cold fingers, they were so warm; but as he slid his ivory hands up toward her eyes, and back down towards her hair, he changed his mind. No, it was not her cheeks; it was her hair. Fanning out behind her head, it was thick, luxurious, intoxicating. He ran his fingers between the strands, passing easily through the silky mass. Sliding his hands down, resting them on the small of her back, he changed his mind again; it was her eyes, definitely her eyes. Closed now, he could vividly see her sparkling gray orbs behind his own green eyes - open and gazing at him, or darting away when she opened her mouth in some loving admission, or even hidden behind delicate, purplish lids, fluttering when her lips touched his. And that brought his mind back to what he was now sure was her best feature: her lips. Pink, plump, smooth as a baby's bottom, they were usually stretched into a smile as wide as the ocean and as happy as an innocent puppy. His favorite place for them to be, however, was locked solidly against his own, as they were now.
Hot tongues battled within her wet mouth; he won over and began to explore the cavern he found himself inside. His hands roamed restlessly over her back, up and down from her shoulder blades over her hips. Her fingers scratched at his chest through his shirt, making his gut tingle in a way that made him angle his head even closer to her. He clutched her body even closer to his, sandwiching himself between her magnificent chest and the white couch she slept on, a shiver running over him. Their legs twined together, and every so often one of hers would give a little kick. She moaned, her voice low, into his mouth, and suddenly there was too much fabric and he wanted it gone and he'd rip it from her skin if he had to, didn't matter if they were on the uncomfortable old couch in her room, nothing would get between him and his Orihime –
But no, he couldn't. He didn't know what her life was like –if she was married, if she had never even been kissed (although he couldn't even imagine that being possible) – if this was even the same Orihime that had loved him once. He didn't know any of the circumstances, so he had to hold himself back.
All he could do now was hold her.
He could not explain the feeling that made his chest constrict when he laid his eyes upon her form. It was a tightening in his torso, a pounding in his head; it was a sensation that made his ears ring and his abdomen tingle, a sensation that made his knees weak and his fingers tremble. It made him want to run to her graceful form, fold her willowy frame within his embrace, clutch her tightly against his muscular chest and never let go. It made him want to grasp her soft, feminine jaw, made him want to tilt up her glowing face with slight pressure applied with his thumbs, made him want to press his black and white lips to her pink ones. Made him want to see her laugh and dance, made him want to wipe away her tears. It scared him, and the only thing that dissolved his worry was when he was able to do these things, to press her into his arms and kiss away her sorrow. To tell her that everything would be okay.
"What's going on?"
Ulquiorra and Orihime were sitting on a park bench, facing each other. She posed the question, looking at him above her glasses, in a way that was so adorable that it made him want to smash his lips to hers.
He looked away.
"Your guess is as good as mine."
"I thought you were dead."
He whipped his head to face her again. His expression must have been alarmed, because she stared back at him in confusion.
"Dead?"
"Ichigo-kun killed you on top of the fifth tower eleven years ago."
Horror flooded through him.
"In Hueco Mundo?"
"Yes." Her face was even more confused now. "When I was kidnapped so long ago. Don't you remember?"
"That hasn't happened yet." Her eyes widened, and he continued. "We are in the middle of that battle. Currently I believe Kurosaki is battling Grimmjow, or perhaps there has been a winner by now. I have been sealed in the Caja de Negación and am yet to emerge, if at all."
Her expression was suddenly filled with fear.
"Oh, no," she breathed. "Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no."
"I am sorry," he apologized. "I did not intend to alarm you. Did you at least remember me before I died?"
Now the confusion was back on her face. "What?"
"Did you remember me," he persisted.
"I never forgot you." She sounded uncertain. "What are you talking about?"
Now he was confused as well. "We were lovers, and Aizen-sama found out, and…" He stopped when she looked at him like he was crazy. "Anómino?" he asked.
"Who is that?"
There was a pause. Ulquiorra tried to think logically. His brain was spinning at a mile a minute.
"Perhaps these are parallel worlds," he mused. "Perhaps this is the world inside the Caja de Negación."
"Tell me what happened," she commanded. The look in her eyes was so worried that he did as she bid him. He started at the part when he left to kidnap her, to when they fell in love, to Aizen finding out. He told about her memory being erased, about the letters they sent – the good, the bad, and the ugly. He told her about Anómino, Emiko and Daisuke. He told her everything up until he knew.
"So far, since I have been inside the Caja de Negación, I have been progressing through stages of evolution," he said. "It started when I was in my Vasto Lorde form. I was in Hueco Mundo, back at the void. I succumbed to its pull, so angry that you hated me was I. Next I was in my bedroom, in my Arrancar form. Emiko and Daisuke attacked me and were unaware of who they were as my subordinates. They overpowered me quickly, and as I sank into oblivion, I remember calling out for your help. And now I am here, in my first release state." He glanced behind himself at the five children playing in the sandy box. "When I woke, I was confronted with myself – and then Grimmjow – and then even Halibel. And then, I see you."
She sighed and tucked her hair behind her ear, looking down at her lap. "In Hueco Mundo, Ichigo killed you and then defeated Aizen," she said. "I married him six years later. The red-haired children you see are our children. Twins, Sora and Masaki."
"You married my killer." Ulquiorra was surprised to hear a little jealousy in his own voice.
Hurt flashed across her face before she continued. "Last year we discovered that the Espada had been reborn as children. Soul Society found out and the Espadalings were nearly condemned to death. With help from the Vizards and Shiro-san we were able to help save them. Ulquiorra was living on the streets, so we took him in as our own."
"All of the Espada were defeated and killed?" Ulquiorra asked.
"I assume so."
Ulquiorra frowned.
"And you are certain you do not have any recollection of us ever being in love?"
She looked intently at her lap. "No, I'm positive."
"I see." He couldn't help but feel a little bit disappointed.
"But I may be able to help you." She looked at him earnestly. "I remember so many things I wanted to say to you. Now I can say them."
"You cannot change the past, Onna," Ulquiorra told her.
"But you said it yourself. These are parallel worlds. What I say here won't affect anything."
"Do not worry," he assured her. "I have every intention of staying alive. Kurosaki could never beat me, not in a million years. He just does not have the power. His Bankai is miserable and his Hollowfication is pathetic."
"You never know what can happen," Orihime warned him, and there was worry in her voice. "Don't assume he's weak. You don't know what could happen."
"You don't either," Ulquiorra said. "Your world was different than mine. In mine, we are in love. In yours, we were not close."
"We were in love," she corrected. "But, not anymore, from what you have told me."
Ulquiorra could feel himself becoming angry. "You have no idea what I have gone through," he began, but she interrupted him.
"Stop it," she said, waving her arms. "Stop, stop stop. Look. This can't be happening. I just need to tell you some things."
"You really shouldn't."
"I don't care. I'm going to."
She was so stubborn. Ulquiorra remembered how much he loved that about her. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Fine."
"Yay!" She clapped her hands. "Okay. The first thing you should know is –"
There was a loud sucking sound, and then nothing.
No…
P.S.
For those of you who didn't know...
Dan is not on fire.
Review and check out Orihime's side at Cursed to Forget!