..
…
CHAPTER 9
…
..
She had left her room again.
More than that, she had gone a step further and left the tower, obligating him to allot time out of his schedule to search for her half way across Las Noches.
He wondered if she realized just how much danger she was truly in when she defied him in such ways. After the attempt on her life, he would have to think yes, but her reckless actions seemed to indicate otherwise. At times, she had been utterly fearless in the face of the Espada. Fearless in the worst possible way, that is, and the longer she stayed there, the worse it got. Under Aizen's protection or not, she just didn't seem to care.
The girl danced around Las Noches as if she belonged there, drawing in the hardened gazes of those she passed along the way and painting the walls with the red of her hair like the stroke of a brush. She smeared them with her colors and left radiance and luminosity in her wake as if they were nothing more than a blank canvas for her to play and toy with at her whim.
Her fingers would skim along the walls and stain them with the warmth of her touch until they radiated with heat, vivacity, and life.
Even if he tied her down and locked her away, she would inevitably break free.
It would never change.
She never faded, never withered. Not in the way a mortal should have in such a place as Hueco Mundo. Her eyes didn't lose their light and her skin hadn't paled. Her natural, beguiling beauty hadn't changed.
It was a little…irksome.
Something inside him wanted to see her wilt. He wanted to see her lose that precious heart she worshiped so faithfully, to watch the look in her eyes the very moment she began to decay - that moment when her delicate, fragile heart was ripped from her chest and the cold emptiness of nothing slowly saturated her insides.
She would learn in those moments that the 'heart' wasn't the forgiving, loving mistress she had believed it to be. Not when the blackness of oblivion was wrapping around her ribs and squeezing out every ounce of hope and trust held within her small, frail body.
Would she hate him then, if he took her heart in his hands and held it before her eyes.
Would she still believe in the heart if she no longer possessed one? To feel that vacant hole in her breast where something precious and treasured to her once resided, now cold and hollow. Would she still smile, hope, and love? Would her eyes still be filled with laughter? Would she break apart and crumble like ash…or, perhaps…
Would she gather those pieces in her hands and hold them close to her wounded breast? Cradling and clutching them in her warmth until they mended under her caring, golden shield of forgiveness. Would she take those pieces, scarred and raw, and place them back where they belong?
She pretended as though it was something that was not physical, that if one stole that small, beating muscle from her delicate fingers it would continue to pulse with life regardless.
She believed it would carry on even when she was gone.
She was wrong and Ulquiorra was unsure whether or not he should bother to correct her.
The girl covered her eyes and spun around and around until she was dizzy with happiness. Happiness that was full and pure because she had blinded herself to the reality of what the world truly was, to the fact that her heart was nothing more than a contrived figment of her young imagination. She was resplendent even as her friends sat idly by with enraptured eyes, never pulling her hands down to show her the ugliness that surrounded her. They allowed her to fool herself, selfishly protecting their belief in innocence in order to gaze upon the perfect image of beauty that she offered them. She was an impeccable rendition of what a heart was supposed to be, she was the reflection of what lay buried inside her chest, carefully guarded by rows of gilded ribs.
It was so full of compassion, trust, and virtue that it nearly burst at the seams. It was framed with candid benevolence, guilelessness, and decorated with integrity and goodness.
However, she was only human, and sooner or later her seemingly impervious heart would become exposed and vulnerable.
She treated the Espada as if they were her playmates, but when the time came - and like with all things in war, it inevitably would - pain would likely fill those soulful eyes of hers.
It was one thing to rip that heart from her chest…what would it look like if it shattered, instead? She had spoken of broken hearts and the pain they caused. Ulquiorra had to wonder.
Do they crack and splinter slowly? Or would it simply rupture and fall to pieces?
He was…curious.
He was certain she had never truly experienced pain, not real pain; the kind to torment and leave behind endless suffering in its wake, the kind that scarred souls and left them hollow. If so, her smile would not be so openly genuine. The tilt of her head would not be so soft and the blush on her cheeks would never be so gentle. She was too spirited and full of life to have ever suffered the agony of having her soul, her very core, ripped from her being.
Would her companions still want her if she no longer possessed a heart?
Would all those Captains still risk the war if her heart was broken?
Would Ichigo Kurosaki still come for her if he took her heart?
They were foolish for desiring such things.
Even so, Ulquiorra knew that creatures driven solely by ambitions that were based on illusions and fantasies were, by nature, dangerous. For they knew no limits or boundaries and their eyes were veiled by fanciful fallacies.
Lifting a hand from his side, Ulquiorra pressed it against the large floor-to-ceiling door of the library. As it cracked open, cries of laughter and excitement filled the hall, spilling out of the room and pouring into the palace like water soaking into the desert sands. It saturated the parched wasteland like forbidden rain and flooded the corridors softly.
He stepped forward, following the wide path of aisles that greeted him upon entry. Glimpses of cinnamon hair and flickers of white robes skirted through his peripheral, ghosting through the countless rows of books that lined the shelves. Laughter rang out to the vaulted ceiling, creating airy echoes as a familiar, light voice melted into the sound of giggles like a chorus.
"You'll never catch me, Wonderweiss-san!" the woman's vivacious voice teased. It bubbled with delight, brimming with just a touch of exhilaration, no doubt absorbed amidst her games.
"Hey! That's cheating, you brat!" another youthful female announced irately. The voice was preceded by an indiscernible noise of objection, words slurred by unintelligible utterances.
Ulquiorra paused in the foyer. It was circular and open, surrounded by endless aisles of books outlining the round lobby. His green eyes glanced down to where several pairs of shoes, capes and stockings lay on the floor, haphazardly discarded without a care to decorate the broad marble tiles.
An enthusiastic bark reverberated against the tomes, eliciting a squeal of surprise as more blissful laughter hummed through the air.
"No, you idiot!" the youthful voice reproved again. "We're not using sonido!" it admonished with playful sternness. A loud smack suddenly resounded through the room, soon followed by a pained groan.
Ulquiorra's gaze fell to a long chaise lounge set off to the side where a relaxed figure was sprawled out comfortably, and snoring softly. A large pillow was jammed tightly over a head of wavy brown hair, no doubt to block out the hectic noises flooding the room. Off in the background, there was more barking and howling.
"Come on, hurry! She's getting away!" the impatient youth urged eagerly.
Ulquiorra's eyes shifted away from the couch, lifting high to one of the many tall shelves that nearly reached the ceiling. There, a pair of legs lay draped over the edge of the mantelpiece.
"I thought I told you to stay away from the woman," he stated.
Lazily, a hand appeared out from the top of the ledge, its middle finger poised crudely above the rest in a very cavalier manner of disregard.
"Have I failed to make you understand this? Or perhaps, it is merely that you are incompetent." Ulquiorra turned his head, his sharply slit pupils pursuing the flashes of auburn and ivory that danced between the books, always preceding flickers of pastel green and flares of flaxen hair. "It's clear by your presence here that you are incapable of following a simple command."
A chuckle sounded from above him.
"Yeah…and maybe when you get done pulling that stick out of your ass you can go tattle on me to Aizen like the stuck-up prick you are."
"You would rather me inform Kaname Tosen, instead?" Ulquiorra responded evenly as he glanced back up, gauging the man that now sat upright with his elbows resting upon his knees. He stared down at Ulquiorra with a slight slouch in his posture, his shocking blue hair contrasting harshly against the stark white of the ceiling. His cobalt eyes narrowed with a level of hostility that very nearly sparked with azure flames. "I am certain he would have little issue in aiding with your demotion once more."
Grimmjow frowned sharply.
"Asshole," he cursed with a snarl.
"I will not warn you again," Ulquiorra asserted, effortlessly ignoring the insult. "The next time you remove her from the fourth tower, I will ensure that your death will be as slow and excruciating as possible."
"Well fuck, I think I just pissed myself…" Grimmjow droned flatly, openly mocking him. "Hell Ulquiorra, if I knew messing with that bitch could get you to fight me this easily, I would have started playing with her a lot sooner than this." He chuckled deeply and was only slightly annoyed by his lack of reaction to him. "I think I'll just start dragging her pretty little ass all over Las Noches if that's the case. I'm sure that'll get your attention." Grimmjow smirked in amusement and pulled a leg up to rest his foot on the ledge, keeping the curve of his elbow relaxed against his bent knee. "Maybe then, I'll get the chance to show you who'd win in a real fight," he announced conceitedly, imagining the satisfying prospect of having the pale Espada under his boot.
"Who said I would ever fight the likes of you," Ulquiorra intoned carelessly, reminding the blue haired man that there was an abundance of other candidates who could fulfill the job of executing him. There always had been more than one way to accomplish dirty deeds in a place like Las Noches.
Grimmjow's arrogant sneer quickly faded into a glower. "You fucking prig," he growled out. "Everyone knows you're afraid of me…even the princess can see the fear in your eyes. You should just give up and fight me, already. It'll make you feel better," he expressed with a dark chuckle. "Ya know, the harder you fight it, the more you'll want it…and you know you want it." His voice was lower, deeper, trying to taunt the shorter man further. His glare bore into the back of Ulquiorra's head, willing him to acknowledge his presence. "Just give it up - I promise I'll make it real good for you. That is, if you think you can handle me. Or are you just that terrified of me? You already know I'll make everyone see how weak you are…and it scares you, doesn't it? I'm glad." He smirked sinisterly. "See, I've always wondered what it would feel like to pin you down and force you to beg for mercy…I bet you'd scream like a bitch."
Grimmjow grinned victoriously when Ulquiorra finally turned his head and stared him down from the corner of his eye, a slightly disgusted frown set across his mouth. A stretch of silence passed between them with only the sounds of giggling and laughter filling the background.
To their left, a loud, half choked snore erupted from Starrk's mouth as he rolled onto his back, nearly causing the oversized pillow to fall off his face. Half asleep, he reached up and absentmindedly scratched at his chest, completely oblivious to the tension in the air.
"I will say it one last time," Ulquiorra warned steadily, his voice hushed and quiet, dangerous in its misleading softness. "Leave the woman alone, she belongs to Lord Aizen. She is not your property to do with as you please."
"Oh, but of course." He grinned wickedly, keeping his smirk wide and sordid. "If I really thought she was my property, don't you think I'd be taking care of that tight little pussy of hers right now instead of sitting up here arguing with you?"
When his suggestive comments got him absolutely nowhere as usual, Grimmjow sighed and leaned back on his elbows, staring up at the ceiling with a bored expression.
"You know, if you keep trying to lock her up like that, she's just going to keep breaking out," he commented gruffly, still irate at Ulquiorra's lack of response to his taunting. "Bitches like that don't do well in cages."
"You forget her role here, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said with a dark, warning edge in his tone. She was a prisoner, cages or no, it was her place to be a captive of Aizen Sosuke. No matter how abundantly the ex-Reaper doted on her and welcomed her with kind words and precious gifts, she had no free will. She could not leave.
She was a tool to be used at his disposal.
"Whatever." Grimmjow curled his lip in annoyance. "I don't give a shit what you use the princess for, but the more you chain her up in some deep, dark pit, the more she's just going to resist you. It won't be my fault if she becomes useless to Lord Aizen because she starts to hate you for locking her away like a fucking animal."
"And yet, I have never locked her door. Clearly it is not I whom you are concerned she will grow to hate."
Grimmjow shot upright once more, anger flaring through his reiatsu.
He knew exactly what Ulquiorra was insinuating.
He hated the way he just stood there with his hands in his pockets, gazing up at him with those vacant eyes…insulting him without even a single inflection in that annoyingly composed timbre of his voice. The ease in which he affronted him with naught but a few simple words was utterly infuriating.
Grimmjow glared down at the shorter Espada with contempt and hatred.
Leaning forward with calculating slowness, he rested his forearms on his knees and leveled him with a piercing stare, his deep aggressive snarl revealing several wicked teeth. "Fuck off, Ulquiorra," he growled out quietly. "One of these days when Aizen ain't around to protect you, I'll be there and it'll be me that sends your sorry pale ass to hell."
"There will be no further warnings." Ulquiorra turned from the blue haired man to exit the foyer, wholly unimpressed with the threat. "If you value your life, as well as hers, you will stay away from her."
"And what the fuck's that supposed to mean?" Grimmjow roared in anger and jumped to his feet. "Get back here and say that to my face, you disgusting excuse of a man!" That seed of rage began to burn inside him, flaring outwards in an uncontrollable frenzy when Ulquiorra failed to grant him acknowledgement. His teeth ground together harshly as the seconds went by without reply. For a brief moment, Grimmjow actually considered mauling him before he could reach the door, even if it meant using a cowardly tactic like attacking his back.
Before he could make a move, Ulquiorra's steps paused abruptly, his head turning to the left.
Completely ignoring Grimmjow's presence, Ulquiorra narrowed his eyes slowly and focused his senses.
There, off in the distance, was the flicker of an unwelcome reiatsu.
His frown deepened.
Someone else was in the library.
Ulquiorra knew the reiatsu signature well enough.
It was slithering far too close to the woman. It was trying to mask itself as it slinked by her two companions and then slipped around her, observing them. He could read its movements like an open book. Waiting to slip past his watchful eye, it patiently bid its time until she would be alone and disconnected from his protection.
It was the movements of a predator, and it was hunting.
"Ichimaru…"
He heard Grimmjow continue to rant behind him, but in the next second he was gone, leaving the foyer without hesitation.
Snakes always did prefer to hunt in the grass, and the library provided the perfect hunting grounds.
Orihime gasped as she spun around a corner and pressed her back against a tall shelf in a secluded corner of the library. Her heart was beating so fast it felt as if it may explode. She gently rested her hand against the side of her neck to calm her pulse as the other quickly reached up to stifle a laugh.
They were so fast!
She had been at a clear disadvantage, but the thrill of the chase had left her so full of energy and excitement that it threatened to bubble over into another fit of laughter. As a kid on the playground, it always had been a strange yet exhilarating sensation when someone was at your heels, just inches shy of wrapping their fingers around you and proclaiming victory. Connecting with her inner child, it prompted her feet to move faster and faster until they nearly gave out.
Orihime bit her lip when she heard Lilynette's loud call to Wonderweiss, announcing that she thought she'd caught another glimpse of their quarry. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled and turned to run deeper into the yawning depths of the archives.
The young pastel haired girl had protested that such a game was far too childish for her to play, let alone Orihime. Yet, when she and Wonderweiss had taken off and disappeared into the ocean of books that surrounded them, an energetic dog on their heels, it had not been long before the girl's frown had been begrudgingly wiped from her face. Soon enough she was pursuing and searching for Orihime with more vigor and liveliness than the young Arrancar would have probably cared to admit.
Quite honestly, it seemed to Orihime that the girl was just happy to have some more energetic interaction outside the company of the Espada Starrk. Who more often than not was asleep when Lilynette wanted to be awake and very much active.
Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Orihime's bright eyes widened with mischievous intent as she pressed herself into a small corner, hiding behind a wide pillar. Her fingers wrapped into the many layers of her skirts as she lifted them to her thighs, bundling them up tightly so they would not protrude beyond the edge of the wall and give her away. Her bare feet danced in place, anxious and restless.
She heard them in the distance and was pleased with herself for accomplishing the mighty task of putting such a wide berth between them in such a short period of time.
Fidgety and slightly twitching with impatience, she took a step further behind the pillar as her eyes dared to try and peek out from the side. As she did, her back bumped into something warm and alive, pressing tightly against a hard chest.
Orihime's eyes widened in shock as a squeal of alarm began to erupt from her throat before a hand immediately covered her mouth, blinding her with fear. She could only guess at the unmentionable beings that probably inhabited the dark and lonely reaches of the library; ghosts and monsters, lurking and waiting for a wandering soul like her to fall into their dusty webs.
Her imagination began to stretch and curve to some rather phobic and nasty conclusions before a familiar voice whispered next to her ear, causing her to blink in surprise.
"Now, now, angel face," it tsk'ed reproachfully as fingers that were cool to the touch caressed the soft roundness of her flushed cheek, holding her with a palm that was warm and moist with the heat of her breath. "Ain't no need for screamin'."
It was Gin Ichimaru, thankfully, and not some sordid monster conjured from her imagination. Teasing though he may be, Orihime felt a tingle of relief spread through her stomach, even as she felt his smile widen against her neck where he'd leaned in to whisper.
"What are you doin' back here all by your lonesome? You should know that rare flowers need a watchful eye out here in the desert…they should never be left unattended in such a careless manner. After all, flowers are so delicate and frail. Who knows what may happen…" he whispered wickedly as his fingers began to slither up her cheek to touch the tender flesh just below her ear.
"Ichimaru-san!" she tittered softly when his breath tickled her neck. "That tickles!" Reaching up, she pulled his hand away and squirmed out of his arms until he finally released his hold. "You shouldn't scare me like that," she added with friendly admonishment. Even if he had given her a scare, his sense of humor had always seemed a bit twisted.
"Oh, I frightened you?" He smiled secretively as she stepped out from behind their shared pillar, dusting her skirts off to remove the wrinkles where her fingers had clutched at them.
"Well," she began. "I certainly wasn't expecting to meet anyone so far back in the library." She laughed softly. "What on earth were you doing back there?" she asked with a curious smile.
"I could ask the very same of you," he articulated slyly, slowly progressing alongside one of the many shelves as he examined the tomes with false interest. In the shadowy depths of the library, his platinum hair still seemed to shine like starlight, even as the pure white of his uniform had faded to a dull grey in the darkness. Yet, when he casually turned on her to smirk even wider, Orihime found she did not like the way that darkness played with his smile.
Orihime wondered, just maybe, if Rangiku had ever seen that darkness before.
"I suppose you could say I was hiding," she remarked with a playful tilt of her head. "From the looks of it, I would say you were doing the same?" Her eyebrow arched expectantly.
"And whatever gave you that idea?" Gin chuckled smoothly as he once again began to close the gap between them.
Orihime smiled amicably as she hid her arms behind her back, wrapping her fingers about her wrist as she leaned forward to eye him impishly. "I think it's pretty obvious," she intoned smartly. Her cheeks were full and round with the curve of her smile. "Lurking about in some dark, musty corner behind an old pillar where even the most devout of dust bunnies dare not venture? It doesn't sound like the type of place where Lord Aizen would meet you for a cup of tea."
Gin clicked his tongue at her wit.
"Tell me, little flower girl." His steps glided with effortless indifference as he moved around her to get to the other side of the aisle. When his gaze fell back to the tomes surrounding them, she straightened her back to observe him clearly. "Does Cuatro-san know you're out of your room?" he inquired nonchalantly, moving on from the topic of his business there.
The corner of Orihime's lips slipped into a confused frown for a moment. "Cuatro-san?" She blinked in puzzlement and Gin only smirked.
"You know, Aizen will kill him if anything happens to you."
Orihime felt her heart stop as any remaining rays of light, dainty smiles and blurs of laughter faded from her eyes when she realized whom he was referring to.
"You mean…Ulquiorra?"
"Of course," he drawled easily. "I just thought you might like to know."
Her dark eyes lowered to the floor as a wave of guilt and worry filled her chest. Aizen would…kill Ulquiorra if she were hurt? A whirlwind of confusing and troubling emotions began to sweep through her mind as she tried to muddle through all the confounding thoughts.
Ulquiorra had repeatedly warned her to stay in her room, where it was safe. Yet she ignored his words of caution and rushed forward like a fool into places and parts of Las Noches that she, admittedly, did not know if they were safe or not. He had watched out for her, protected her and guarded her, he never hurt her, and she constantly degraded his efforts by placing herself in danger. Throughout her rebellion he'd never punished her, never hurt her–though he frequently gave her threats that he never bothered to fulfill. Although, while he did not physically harm her, he would chastise her by hurting those she cared for, just as he had done to Grimmjow and when he had threatened her friends when she refused to follow him into Hueco Mundo.
She remembered what Lilynette had told her when they first met, about how Ulquiorra was only 'kind' to her because Aizen had bid it of him. So many people that she had met cursed him and spoke in sermons about how fiendish and terrible Ulquiorra was, something she could not find in her heart to believe. She'd never witnessed such behavior from him, but had seen acts of barbarism in droves amongst his brethren. Now she wondered…was he truly only civil with her because he had no choice?
Would he…hurt her if it was not commanded of him to care for her?
He'd told her never to leave her room or the tower to keep her safe, but now she could not discern if it was for her benefit or his own. Even when she thought he'd left her in the arena and Aizen's garden, she'd always come to find out that he'd stayed. He never let her out of his sight.
Despite his intentions, a piece of her heart–a portion that was much larger than she had realized it'd become–could not bear the thought of his death.
Orihime's belly did an uncomfortable flop. Her fingers grazed over her abdomen to try and dispel the troubling sensation as she turned away from Gin's prying and disturbingly knowing gaze.
"Ichimaru-san?" she questioned with sober quietness and when she heard no reply she continued anyway. "What did you come here for?" She was beginning to suspect he had ulterior motives than just trying to escape tea time.
Gin released a long, relaxed sigh, his grin nearly reaching his eyes as he felt that stale coldness begin to fill the air around them. "I just came to check up on a friend…that's all."
"You mean…me?" she asked with a bewildered furrow of her brow.
"Look at it this way, I'm just here to make sure your warden is doing his job." His chuckle was sinful and untrustworthy and his eyes shifted to set themselves on a figure behind her, one that was slowly closing in on them from the grey, dreary shadows.
Her eyes followed his and her lips parted in silent shock at the sight of her warden's hard stare piercing straight through her. His gaze never left the grinning façade of the man beside her. "Ul…Ulquiorra?" she breathed nervously, suddenly aware of the heavy atmosphere around them.
"Ah, Cuatro-san," Gin sniggered towards the pale man that continued to steadily approach them. "Slacking on your duties again, are we?" he remarked with smooth mockery.
Orihime took a step back from her warden, unable to read the vacant expression on his stony face. His hands may have remained in his pockets, but there seemed to be a tightness in his shoulders that spoke to the shift in his demeanor.
"You can imagine my surprise findin' Orihime-chan all the way out here…and by herself, no less," he said as Ulquiorra began to move around her, circling the girl quietly as Gin slinked his way just as slowly by her. Gin minded himself to always keep her between them, never giving the Espada a clear shot. "How very fortunate I was here to keep her company." He grinned as he moved behind her, his fingers playing through her hair as he continued to calmly evade Ulquiorra's severe stare.
Orihime quickly wrapped her arms around herself when she began to feel the distinct embers of a confrontation sparking to life between them. "Ulquiorra?" she questioned again as she sought his eyes, growing steadily more uncomfortable by the second. She remained trapped between the two men like a barrier.
Something was wrong.
She couldn't place her finger on it, but there was a tension between the two men that was just outside of her understanding, and she was certain it didn't have anything to do with Ichimaru sniffing around her skirts all the time. She'd even wager it had nothing to do with her at all. She felt Gin's reiatsu gradually begin to rise in a goading manner and she knew all it would take was one wrong move, a single misplaced word, before a fire was ignited.
"It'd be a shame," Gin began deviously as her hair slipped from his long fingers. "We wouldn't want anything terrible to happen to her, now would we?"
The reaction his words produced was sudden and terrifying. In that moment, all the air left her lungs as a release of reiatsu, the likes of which she'd never known, abruptly flooded the room. Her eyes widened dramatically as she tentatively turned her head to regard the pale man behind her, the source of the pressure. Standing still as a statue, his stoic features remained unmoved against the wicked grin of the ex-Shinigami male before her.
Orihime felt her fingers begin to tremble as the sensation of his reiatsu crawling over her body left her dizzy. It was quite possibly the most endless void of pitiless desolation she'd ever experienced. It crept over her like dry ice and pried itself into her chest where it wrapped around her heart and just squeezed. It constricted around it until she feared it would rupture or just simply stop beating, whichever came first.
The pressure in the room made her head ache and her ears pop and Orihime desperately grasped at the fibers of her inner strength while fighting down the uncomfortable sensation of fear clambering around inside her stomach like razor-winged butterflies.
"Is that a threat, Ichimaru?" he asked, his voice hollow and unchanged; stern even in the face of Gin's easy smiles.
"Oh my." Gin chuckled amusedly as he slithered closer to Orihime. "How scary," he said as his grin shifted into something malicious, veiled and buried beneath his deceptive guise, but the crease at the corners of his lips and the obscure manner in which his eyes slid open hinted at his intentions. "Perhaps you should calm down. You're making Orihime-chan nervous."
Ulquiorra said nothing, clearly not caring for her state of unease.
"How cruel," he began with purposeful provocation. "You really should do something about that heart condition of yours, Cuatro-san." His hand leisurely started to reach for her hair again.
Instantly, a thick, heavy wall of reiatsu surrounded her that was dense and impenetrable, forcing Gin to quickly retract his hand from the crushing pressure. His smile slipped and his blue eyes hardened as he glared at the pale Espada. A point was being made here. Ulquiorra was warning him to stay away from her. As pleased as Gin was that he'd finally seemed to get under Ulquiorra's skin for once, it hadn't been as genuine as he'd hoped. For although he'd gotten a rise from him, it had only been a product of obligation on Ulquiorra's part to stave off further contact Gin may have with the girl. Unlike the rest of the Arrancar, who feared Aizen enough to torment the girl but never kill her, Ulquiorra knew Gin was a loose cannon. The ex-captain did as he pleased and betrayed as he pleased, as well.
He'd seen Gin as a threat and he was removing that threat.
Orihime swallowed nervously as she watched the corner of Gin's mouth dip into a dangerous frown. Something in her gut twisted. It was shady and foreboding. She'd never seen his smile slip from his face in quite such a frightening manner.
"Wings or no," Gin began with a dark chuckle as he moved around her, now seemingly interested in only one thing. His cool blue eyes locked on the other man standing several feet from her back. "Bats are rodents, Cuatro-san…and snakes devour rodents. Or didn't ya know?" he drawled coaxingly, daring him to make the first move. Although Orihime felt lost by the direction of his words, she was overtly aware the focus of the platinum haired male's attention had wholly transferred to her reluctant guardian.
Ulquiorra was silent for a beat longer, his mannequin-like expression never changing, never altering in the face of his indirect threats and slurs. It was when Orihime felt the slight fluctuation in Gin's reiatsu that fear began to rattle her chest. Regardless of intention, she did not want to see the two men initiate a fight that she may or may not have triggered.
She bit her tongue and held her breath as Ulquiorra closed his eyes and turned his head away, dismissing his threats when he began to grow tired of his game. "Unless you wish to test this theory, I suggest you leave and never approach the woman again."
Unlike most, Gin did not take offense to Ulquiorra's fail-proof method of slighting his opponent by dismissing them as if they were unworthy of his full attention.
"Whoever said it was her I was after…Cuatro-san?" he quietly baited with his smile firmly back in place. Ulquiorra's eyes quickly slid back open, glaring at the ivory haired man from the corner of his eye.
"Leave," he repeated mutedly, his reiatsu never wavering in the face of such an untrustworthy creature the likes of Gin Ichimaru.
"Leave?" Gin echoed with false astonishment. "Now, why would I ever want to do that? Aren't we havin' fun? Don't you want to test out my theory?" His sarcasm was thick as he continued to jeer and antagonize him. Unlike the rest of the Espada, Gin knew exactly what words to say to draw the pale man into a scuffle. He was just as calculating and precise as Ulquiorra could be. He knew senseless violence and depraved insults would never be enough to rile him up. He also knew that Ulquiorra was strong…much stronger than he would ever let on.
Ulquiorra's head lifted at his words while his feet shifted minutely until he had the Shinigami directly in his sights. "Do you wish to fight me, Ichimaru?" he inquired. He did not waste his time mincing words and reacting to his jabs.
"Goodness, how very dull." Gin gave an exaggerated sigh. "Always straight to the point…it's quite boring."
"That's what I keep telling him," a gruff voice sounded from above, crude and uncaring for the tense atmosphere. "I really hate insipid bastards like that. Even so…nothing really pisses me off more than a snake in the grass."
Orihime lifted her head. A large smile erupted on her face as she saw the broad figure perched over them, crouching on the ledge of the tall shelf with his forearms resting on his knees. "Grimmjow-kun!" she announced briskly, hoping his arrival would dispel the tension.
Sharp eyes glared down on the scene below him as his hands clenched, stretching and preparing the muscles in his arms. "Why don't you just step away from the bitch and maybe I won't decide to pound your face in," he suggested boorishly as his frown curled into a crude snarl.
"Chilling." Gin's chuckle was slightly sardonic as he eyed the man with little interest. "And here I thought Cuatro-san was terrifying," he practically cooed.
"You fucking slime bag!" Grimmjow growled and rose to his feet, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.
"Come now, Jaegerjaquez-kun," Gin murmured, his words articulating a soothing tone that mocked the Espada's bristly temper. "There's no need for name calling."
Grimmjow's hackles rose in anger.
"How's about I rip that clever voice box of yours right out from your throat and shove it up your ass?" he warned as his foot rested precariously on the edge of the shelf, readying himself to attack the ex-Shinigami at any second. "You do enough talking out your ass as it is, anyways," he continued on, "One way or another, you Shinigami are all the same. It always ends with your blood on my hands," he expressed with loathing abhorrence, glowering at him. Grimmjow may have hated Ulquiorra, but he really, really hated Soul Reapers.
When the small white dog that had been pursuing Orihime throughout the library broke into the silent bubble of chaos that surrounded the girl, Wonderweiss and Lilynette arrived soon after, the former utterly oblivious to the hostility that filled the air around them.
"What the hell's going on here?" Lilynette demanded harshly, fully aware, yet wholly uncaring of the tight friction between the three men. "Are these asshole's giving you shit, Orihime?" she inquired severely as Wonderweiss wrapped himself around the girl in question, believing he had won the game.
Lilynette's small fists rested on her hips as she eyed each man carefully, ignoring the annoyed look Grimmjow was giving her.
"Butt out, brat," he ordered roughly. "Does this look like a place for a fucking kid?"
"Who are you calling a kid, you oversized house cat!" she shot back with a frown, her pink eye narrowing in on the tall man menacingly.
"Shouldn't you be off sucking on your mother's tit or something?" he growled as his head tilted back, glaring down at her with an abrasive snarl.
"You asshole!" she hissed in fury, causing her cheeks to puff out in rage. "You should know your dick belongs in your pants, not in your personality, you big jerk!" she retaliated, even as her lips began to pucker in annoyance at his callous insults, trying to remain unaffected.
The dog had already begun barking again and with Lilynette and Grimmjow's bickering Orihime tried to sort through the chaotic mess around her. "Wonderweiss-san," she said, trying to keep the anxiety from her tone as she gently, but unsuccessfully, began to pry him from her person. "Please, I need you to let me go…" she urged, attempting to coax him off of her as she watched the intense looks that continued to pass between Ulquiorra and Gin.
The smile on Gin's mouth was tense and rigid, practically broadcasting that he was up to no good. His hands were tucked neatly within the large cup of his sleeves while he observed the Cuatro Espada before him, chuckling amusedly when he glanced back to see the distraught expression marring her beautiful face. When she saw him slip back into his usual demeanor and replace his mysterious smile, Orihime felt some semblance of balance return and she allowed herself to breathe out a sigh.
"It's quite unfortunate," Gin smoothly intoned when he began to feel the stirring flickers of Starrk's reiatsu rousing from sleep. "But it would seem as though I am gravely outnumbered." He gave a distraught sigh and took a dangerous step forward into Ulquiorra's space. Far too close for Orihime to feel comfortable, for anyone to feel comfortable. "Cuatro-san…" he uttered in a quiet bid of farewell, smirking at the expressionless Espada before abruptly flash-stepping from sight.
Orihime rolled her lips together uneasily as she watched her warden remain as still as a statue in the moments after, his eyes drilling into her in clear displeasure.
She flinched when he suddenly turned, walking away from the scene that had only grown louder and noisier with the bickering of her companions and the barking of the energetic animal howling with excitement.
"Ulquiorra!" she called desperately, trying to untangle herself from the flaxen haired boy wrapped around her waist. "Please wait!" Her hand reached for him only to hastily bring it back to her side to pry the strong arms from her ribs. When she felt Wonderweiss begin to loosen his grip, she immediately twisted free and ran after him, hastening her pace to try and catch up before he could escape her sight.
The soft tapping of her bare feet echoed like faint kisses against the floor beneath her. Her delicate brow furrowed into a knot of worry when she failed to see him ahead of her, even as the white rows of shelves began to grow darker and darker the deeper she journeyed into the archives.
When she saw the familiar white outline of his figure in the shadows, a small smile of relief tilted her lips as she hurried towards him. "Ulquiorra!" she tried to gain his attention, only to have him ignore her.
Her toes were chilled and her breath was hitched as she reached his side, and when her fingers tentatively reached out to grip his sleeve, her dark eyes blinked in confusion when he remained silent and merely continued forward. He hadn't even bothered to stop for her.
Suddenly feeling very nervous and awkward, Orihime stood in place for a moment, wondering if she should even follow, before she eventually fell into step behind him. She glanced over her shoulder, back to the brighter end of the library as she realized they were heading in the wrong direction. "Um…we're going the wrong way," she announced hesitantly, trying something, anything, to get him to respond to her. "The entrance is in the front…at least, I think…" she trailed off.
It was eerily calm and when the last screeches of Grimmjow and Lilynette's bickering faded into the distance, Orihime gripped her hands tightly to her upper arms, staving off the harsh coldness radiating from the walls around them…and the unspeaking man before her.
"Are we going back to my room?" she inquired quietly, self-consciously, suddenly feeling as if she had done something very, very wrong to have deserved his silence.
The hall they were traversing was framed by towers of bookcases on each side, straight and narrow. It never seemed as if it would end. If she had thought her hiding place where Gin had found her was dusty and desolate, then where they were at the moment was downright ancient.
"Ulquiorra?" she said softly, attempting to gain at least a glance of acknowledgment. She had caused him trouble and she knew it, but was it really that serious?
Orihime felt a shiver crawl over her skin as she thought back to his reiatsu being released over her, covering her like a cold blanket. She couldn't once recall feeling Ulquiorra flex his reiatsu in the small box of memories she'd recorded of him. Although it had always been hauntingly void of life and compassion, as well as alarmingly sinister in its nature, it had never altered. It had always, always remained flat and level, unwavering and controlled with near surgical precision.
For him to have unscrewed the tightly sealed cap on that spiritual pressure, even to make a point, left Orihime in a bit of shock.
Not to mention, Gin Ichimaru, the man Rangiku loved, seemed to have been up to no good. Orihime did not want to think that of him, she wanted to believe the best of him, but the writing had been on the wall.
Yet, as she reflected on her troubling mood, she could not rid herself of the peculiar intuition that it had not been she whom Gin had been interested in at all.
"I'm just here to make sure your warden is doing his job."
Apparently Aizen was watching her, or rather Ulquiorra's performance, more closely than she had thought.
Closing her eyes, Orihime's eyebrows knit together tightly as she began to grow restless from his silence. It was becoming irksome and she was trying not to react to her agitation. She was tired of being ignored by him. Something in her yearned for his recognition, his acceptance. Even his acknowledgment, at the very least, would have eased her.
She lifted her eyes when they stopped at a set of doors tucked in the farthest depths of the library. They were smaller than the ones at the front entrance, but sizable enough. She watched him for a beat, taking note of the tense set of his shoulders, the disquiet she felt from his aggravated mood, the strain in his forearm; as if he were clenching a fist in his pocket just to stop himself from berating her.
Still, he didn't move, didn't try to open the door, as if silently debating whatever was going through his mind.
She knew any further effort she made to discuss the situation would be for naught. But Orihime always had been an optimist. She believed in the good of people and that even a few simple words could reach someone, even if it didn't openly show.
"I didn't know Ichimaru-san was in the library," she whispered with reluctant defeat. "If you didn't want me near him you could have told me-"
"I told you to stay in the tower," he interrupted sharply. "I believe that should have been sufficient enough warning." He glared at her over his shoulder.
Orihime swallowed.
She'd really messed up this time.
"Someone tried to take your life recently." Orihime nearly flinched at the reminder. "Or have you forgotten?"
"I haven't forgotten." Orihime looked down guiltily.
"Your behavior would suggest otherwise, woman," he shot back without hesitation, barely allowing her a second to finish her sentence.
Swallowing softly, Orihime cautiously raised her gaze back to his. Ulquiorra watched, slightly thrown off his guard, when her brown eyes met his. Her head remained tilted down in submission as she blinked at him from under her lashes, her cheeks still flushed red from the games she had played so carefree and happily just minutes prior.
"I'm sorry, Ulquiorra." She licked her lips nervously, wetting them, and his eyes dropped to them like a hawk. "I didn't mean any harm."
Most disturbing of all, was the genuine weight her apology held. He sensed no dishonesty in her tone or her eyes. Docile in appearance with words spoken sweet enough to entice, Ulquiorra still knew better than to trust that the woman would yield so easily.
He looked away, back to the door in front of him. His hand touched the flat plane of one of the doors and when she felt a small rush of his reiatsu surge through the solid marble under his fingers to unlock it, she felt her own hand lifting unwittingly, reaching for him. She wanted desperately to break the tension, somehow.
Her fingers curled back in uncertainty, shying away before suddenly swallowing her pride and extending them further. Her burst of bravery didn't seem to have the desired effect, as she sensed every muscle in his body freeze when she gently brushed the arm resting at his side. Undeterred, her touch was tender as she moved to stand beside him.
"Ulquiorra…" The dulcet lull of her voice wafted over the silence and he felt her soft hand rest on his shoulder. "I know you're only trying to protect me." The subtle feminine scent of her settled next to him. It pulled at his senses as he felt her right hand join the other near his arm to grasp gently at his sleeve. "I always seem to make your job harder, don't I?"
Seemingly dragged along by whatever force currently had them both trapped, Orihime began to lean in, drawn by the conflicted look in his eyes that continued to stare harshly into the door.
A foreign fluttering coursed through her body as she watched his profile. Beyond her comprehension, she suddenly wished he would look at her like he had just seconds ago, when his eyes had dropped to her lips and flashed with something she was wholly unfamiliar with. She had noticed that look in his green eyes from time to time, faint but there nonetheless, and she didn't understand it. Men and women had always looked at her in all kinds of ways; lustfully, longingly, enviously, lovingly. Most of her classmates were shy or overzealous, and the adults were leering. But none of them, not one, looked at her the way Ulquiorra did; slowly, confidently, brazenly. Unapologetic in whatever appraisal he was making.
Again, Orihime leaned in a fraction more.
She didn't understand it…but something inside her wanted to.
Without realizing it, she'd leaned in so close her chest bumped his arm. She blushed faintly as the solid muscle in his bicep flexed hard when he felt that strong, quivering heartbeat against his flesh. Daring to ride the wave of exhilaration his response gave her, and wanting to see more, she pulled his arm slowly into her breast to cradle it there.
"What do you think you are doing, woman?" he asked lowly, still refusing to make eye contact.
"I don't know," she answered honestly, almost innocently. "I'm not sure I understand it…but I was hoping you might?"
Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed as they drilled holes into the stone of the library door. She swore she heard him release a slow exhale through his nose.
"Is my heart really so repulsive to you, Ulquiorra?" Her words must have had the desired effect, because his gaze finally shot down to hers sharply. She watched as his pupils shrank slightly at the feel of her heartbeat speeding up against his arm.
"Yes," he answered bluntly, not a waver of doubt in his voice or eyes as he kept her gaze.
However, instead of shrinking back and retreating like he had expected, she merely tilted her head and blinked curiously, watching him in return.
"It's the strangest thing," she breathed in response, neither of them noticing just how close they had gotten. She bit her lip and just as she expected, his eyes locked on the action like a magnet. "When you look at me like that, I can't help but think-"
Her hand blindly reached further, stretching in unconscious exploration. Warm, searching fingers slid under the opening of his jacket, touching his cold flesh where she faintly grazed the empty hole that lay there…and suddenly he realized just exactly what it was she was searching for.
Abruptly, her wrist was gripped and twisted away from him, pinned above her head as she was pressed harshly against the door. She gasped in a fleeting moment of fear as she stared up at him in stunned silence.
Her dark eyes remained wide and confused as she stood frozen by the harshness of his gaze. She could feel his fingers move over the frail underside of her wrist, wanting to squeeze, wanting to warn her off from touching him there again. His thumb lightly pressed there, gently running along the pale blue vein until it reached the small bone at the base of her palm.
She shrank back against the door, her free hand palming the cool marble in an effort to sink further into the solid partition.
Her gaze never left his, yet when those cold green eyes narrowed slightly and his thumb tenderly pressed into the vein at her wrist, her lips parted in a silent gasp. At the hushed sound, the harsh lines of his face shifted again.
She could feel her pulse steadily thrumming through the vein under his thumb. Humming like a song.
The curve of her lashes fluttered momentarily before slowly widening at the flicker of curiosity in his gaze.
The library was dark and she was only vaguely aware of his hand ghosting up her arm until it was suddenly at the back of her neck, pulling her forward even as her wrist remained trapped against the door.
She felt his thumb press into her jaw and his fingertips skim the sensitive nape of her neck, angling her head aside. Strands of her hair swam across her bare shoulder like a curtain of silk threads and cinnamon lace, brushing against his cheek as he slowly leaned in. A brief pause, and then in just the barest of grazes, his cold lips touched the skin beneath her ear.
"Ulquiorra…" she murmured, unsure if it was a protest or an inquiry.
Her hand softly rested against his forearm, confusion and heat spreading through her body when his lips moved like smoke over her flesh. With agonizingly slow intent, his fingers carefully tilted her head back, tangling in her hair.
Orihime gasped shakily, her very breath leaving her body when those lips pressed into the pulse hidden beneath the thin layer of flesh there, thrumming and fluttering under his ministrations. Her hand clenched under his grip and her eyes slipped closed as she relaxed into his touch, slanting her head softly as she gave in and allowed him to handle her as he pleased. She was letting him closer, allowing her heart to trust him far more openly than her mind was warning her not to.
"Is this the heart…Orihime Inoue?" His hushed tones were only overshadowed by the violent shudder that overcame her legs when she felt the vague brush of his teeth rake across her pulse, forcing an aching heat to throb outwards from her core.
Her thighs shivered once before she tensed her legs, suppressing the tremors that only seemed to grow in magnitude the more she fought the urge to press herself into him. But when his cold hand suddenly pulled her neck forward, his mouth pressing a hard kiss into the frantic pulse of her heart, a shaky, quiet cry erupted from her throat as she arched into him - pooling her breasts firmly against his chest.
Orihime bit her lip and trembled delicately. Hesitantly, her fingers brushed the back of his wrist, traveling down the hard length of his arm as she felt his other hand squeeze her own wrist in response.
"This heart…" he intoned quietly, smoothly, only pausing to whisper against her ear. "By the end of this war, I will hold it in my hand," he murmured softly, causing her to flinch when he squeezed the back of her neck in emphasis. "…and I will crush it."
His words pulled her down like being drowned in the deepest reaches of the ocean, an anchor mercilessly tied to her ankle to assure there was no resurfacing.
Her fingers dug into his arm. Her lips pursed against the suddenly bitter taste in her mouth as she pushed at him as much as she could manage. Orihime was growing sick of just how utterly impenetrable that man truly was in every sense of the word. She was beginning to hate how easily she fell for his cruel games. Her small palm pressed against his chest, not wanting to be near that coldness a moment longer.
He pulled himself away slowly and his hand released her wrist. She quickly gathered it to her breast, shielding herself in every sense. His green eyes stared impassively into the swirls of anger and hurt flaring to life in her dark ones, swimming like effervescent stars trapped in a hurricane of emotion.
He was waiting for her to break, to fall at his feet and cry…she could see it in his eyes.
He was expecting it.
"You're wrong." Her voice was small, if not slightly wounded, but never weak. "You can rip open my chest. You could crack open my skull…you can pull my heart from my body and let it bleed in your hands…but you will never have the power to crush it." Her hushed words wavered as she fought to remain unaffected by the lifeless man that stood so close and unmoving before her. It was a short, insignificant distance, yet he seemed so terribly far away from her in that moment. "Not now. Not ever."
He was painfully silent and Orihime could not bear the weight of his gaze a second longer. Her arms were hesitant and shaky as she reached up to cradle her chest tightly - protecting her heart from him in the warm embrace of her arms. Her deep, chocolate eyes turned from him as she angled her head aside to stare at the floor.
She felt safe in the familiar caress of her hair gliding faintly against her cheek like a curtain. The only sounds to call out to her were the elusive flurries of dust dancing through the air like snow; tiny aerials that landed with a muted touch on the ancient books that had not known the stroke of a hand in centuries.
His palm lifted and pressed the door behind her. She heard a subtle creak tremble through the partition as he pushed it open. The quiet noise agitated the silence in a way that forced her eyes to close, bracing against the sudden flood of light that expanded outwards from the thin sliver of white that cut through the darkness.
She felt his gaze upon her when she refused to move or look at him. The ballet of dust specs that twirled through the air sparkled and shimmered in illumination against the shadowy backdrop of the library, giving one last dazzling flash before falling to the smooth marble at her feet.
"Go," he ordered emotionlessly.
Cold, dry…empty.
That precious place in her chest ached again and Orihime wrapped her arms closer, desperately trying to guard the trembling heart that rested there.
Her long lashes lifted as her soulful brown eyes regarded the harsh image of his silhouette. His eyes were focused on her, watching her, commanding her to move with a single look. The tentative brush of her fingers found her neck, carefully grazing over the steady pulse where his lips had pressed as she took in the smooth markings that marred his face, running down his cheeks like tears of endless agony.
Orihime now realized that those markings were a mockery, flowing out from deceptively heartrending eyes. It was an imitation of what he could never be, scorning any who were foolish enough to buy into the false misery that reflected in them. It was a pit of despair, so empty and fathomless it frightened her.
All one had to do was push aside the thick, glossy shine to see what truly lay inside.
Orihime had never seen such desolation, and slowly, very slowly, she began to grasp the fact that he was the embodiment of everything she could not understand…
At times, she wondered if there was anything inside him at all. His expression was never changing, his reiatsu abnormally flat and stable. There were no fluctuations, no flares of anger or irritation.
She didn't understand him.
She didn't understand why he was so callous, cold and cruel. She couldn't understand why he didn't want her to reach out to him or why he always mocked her love for her friends and her belief in the heart.
It pained her to imagine a creature, any creature, dwelling in such a bleak existence. It was in her nature to share her love, to need that connection of emotions, touches, and feelings. There were times in her young life that she had dreamed that she could be stripped of emotions and the pain they had brought her. She had thought it may be a blessing, but now, seeing that look in his eyes, she could not wish such a thing upon her worst enemy.
The moment she realized the reason those things were paining her was because she had wanted to share a part of her heart with him, a sad look filled her eyes.
She stepped away from him, only pausing in the threshold of the door to cast him one last fleeting glance. A poignant sense of regret washed over her when she realized they were too different.
Far too different.
When she turned away, Orihime looked up to see the familiar sight of the archway that led out of the central dome. Likely, the door had been a secret back entrance to the library.
The heavy groan of the door being shut felt like the closing of a book and Orihime didn't need to look back to know he wasn't there.
Her arms fell to her sides. Standing quiet and alone, Orihime pressed her lips together and moved onward, hoping she could find the strength to guide herself through the vast maze of bleached walls and painfully tangled webs within Las Noches that awaited her ahead.
It was strange how quiet her room had felt lately. The silence would always be broken at irregular intervals throughout the day when Wonderweiss, Lilynette, and Grimmjow managed to chase away the coldness, fracturing the dull stillness at all hours of the day and night.
Still, she had not left the tower for several days. Although she had been reluctant to even leave her room at first, even Orihime could not stand the arduous silence for long. She felt…stagnant.
Pushing the thoughts aside, her fingers continued to tangle in the mess of wavy brown hair resting on her lap. Her eyes fell to the handsome and somewhat rough profile of the man slowly being lulled to sleep under the gentle pull of her fingers.
"You're the only quiet place…" he always said, and Orihime would smile and sigh and it wouldn't be but minutes later that'd he'd be fast asleep under the refuge of her soft, watchful eyes. Usually, she assumed Starrk was just trying to find a place to get away from Lilynette's rather lively company. Unsurprisingly, she hadn't the heart to turn him away. Not that he gave her much of a chance. He was usually in her lap before she could even say no.
She lifted her head to the window above, wondering if the furious storms that plagued the deserts recently were keeping her friends from coming for her. She hadn't doubted them for a moment, not even when she felt the sting of betrayal in learning of Soul Society's choice to use her so callously.
Kurosaki-kun would come for her, and Kuchiki-san, Ishida-kun, Sado-kun and Abarai-kun.
They would all fight over which method they should use to rescue her, or which areas to attack first. Kurosaki-kun and Ishida-kun would quarrel the most, but the Quincy would always give in under the unstoppable force that was Ichigo. And then they'd all put their hands together and they would promise each other to come back alive. They would grin at one another and share that spark of determination that would ignite in their eyes.
Orihime smiled, trying to stifle the bubbly giggle from escaping her throat in fear of waking the man that lay slumbering quietly in her lap, his slow breathing warming the flesh of her thigh through the thick layers of her skirts.
The sigh that left her lips was full and content as she leaned a little further back into the couch, feeling slightly more uplifted after thinking about them. She was glad that they had not faded from her heart, not in the way some things were.
Attempting to distract herself from the thought of those changes, her eyes glanced down the length of the couch where the lazy Espada's feet lay resting upon the arm of her settee, crossed at the ankle. She wondered about Lilynette's connection to him. They did not seem to get along as swimmingly as partners were expected to.
They were so very different. Yet, they seemed to depend upon one another in a way that was far too deep for any single person to understand. It was not something tangible.
Orihime bit her lip gingerly as she thought about how very different they were and, even so, they shared a bond of need and want. It was as if one could not exist without the other, Lilynette was a necessity for him to survive, and he was her very life.
One was the other.
If two beings who contradicted, yet completed each other had found some degree of harmony…could two individuals who existed on even further ends of the spectrum find a middle ground, as well?
Orihime found her heart both yearning for that middle ground and pushing it away. It had been torn in so many directions lately it was excruciating. When the desire for safety and simplicity began to resurface, her maimed heart started grasping for her memories of Ichigo and the small threads of hope that were familiar and comforting. It was easy to hold on to such a love when she already knew its limits.
Ichigo could never really break her heart…because it was never his to begin with, no matter her fantasies. She could devote herself to him as much as she wanted, but it would never be his until he accepted it.
It was easy to deal with the pain when she already knew it was Rukia's hand he would be holding some day, something that had always made her happy for them, but not jealous. Never jealous.
The ravenous green monster had only touched her once, and when it did she had been tempted into a pit of envy and despair.
It was the day Kisuke had hurt her with his words and sent her away. It was Rukia who found her, her chest weighed down with self-pity as she sought solace. The raven haired girl had just recently returned to the world of the living, and Orihime had suddenly realized just how good Rukia was for Ichigo, how she lifted him up and made him so amazing and polished him until he shined so brightly it made her eyes dazzle with his brilliance.
She had wanted Rukia to pity her. She had wanted the very woman who had taken the man she loved to pity her because Rukia was stronger than her, better than her and, in every sense of the word, worthy of his affection.
But she hadn't.
She had grabbed her arm and she had lifted her up and held her close and made her glow just like the way she made Ichigo shine.
In that moment, luck had graced her with a glimpse of what Ichigo was able to see every day when the diminutive Shinigami woman looked him in the eye with that vibrant, intense soul of hers - touching those fortunate enough to know her.
Orihime sighed softly, glad that Kuchiki-san was with him in these hours. He would need her support, all of their support, after learning of her abduction. Ichigo Kurosaki always had been fiercely devoted to each of them. His feelings were powerful, overwhelming, and frightening to those who did not understand him. But for those who did, it made it impossible not to fall in love with the young man.
Rukia had been the only one capable of accepting the full force of those emotions. She had never bent in the face of his power and had never wavered.
It was truly something to behold.
As Orihime soothed her nails over Starrk's scalp, a small finger singled out a thick lock of his brunette hair and wistfully wrapped the loose curl around her knuckle before letting it slip back down the slender appendage like a ribbon. Absentmindedly, her thumb swept over his brow, amused at how a single man could sleep so very much.
Her dreamy musings were interrupted when the recognizable scrape of her door being pushed open sounded from her right. Lifting her eyes, the girl expected to see her stoic warden waiting for her, outlined by the intense white light of the hallway.
However, Orihime stopped short when an unfamiliar figure stood in the center of the entrance. Her mouth opened in uncertainty, but lacked the words to voice her confusion as she tried to decipher the edges of the curvy silhouette that remained just outside the reaches of her vision, blinded by the bright light.
"Um…hello?" she called hesitantly, wondering who the stranger was.
When the figure stepped forward, Orihime rested a protective hand atop the chest of the sleeping, defenseless Espada on her couch. Her eyes widened in vague recognition as the sight of wild blonde hair and striking dark skin melted out of the brilliant light like a vision. A tall woman approached her, exotic and exquisite in her confident beauty as she stood before the mesmerized auburn haired girl.
"Orihime Inoue," her stern, feminine voice intoned.
Orihime's eyes were curious as she observed the attractive woman in front of her. A mysterious look was in the seafoam green orbs that peeked out at her from just above the rim of her tall collar. Orihime had seen the woman before. She was an Espada. She had seen her in meetings and in dark, hidden corners of Las Noches as Ulquiorra led her from one destination to another–always watching her from a distance.
It had frightened Orihime at first. But, as she realized Ulquiorra had paid her no mind, Orihime had taken solace in the fact he did not deem her as a threat even though she observed the girl with a direct and slightly daunting stare.
"Yes?" she replied slowly, unsure of the woman or her intentions.
"I apologize for intruding," she spoke calmly and Orihime noticed that even her polite words were mildly intimidating. Yet, the cold turquoise green of her eyes were so vivid and hard it was like looking into twin stones that had been plucked straight from the bluest waters of the ocean. "My name is Tier Harribel," she continued, "…and I am in need of your help."
Shock stunned Orihime into silence as her eyes widened at Tier's blunt request.
"My…help?" Orihime blinked.
"My fraccion, she is dying," she explained and Orihime's brow knit in sudden and sorrowful understanding. "I have seen your power, I know what you are capable of," she trailed off and Orihime sensed the distinct impression that something was holding her back. "You belong to Lord Aizen and I cannot betray his trust. However, it is well known that he holds you in his favor. For you to sway him, I will offer you everything within the reaches of my power, I will grant you any wish I can fulfill," she paused for a moment as a mildly troubled look overcame her hard eyes. "I must…beg of you. Please, help me in this endeavor."
Orihime wondered how much the woman must have loved her companions. To come to her, humble, yet still proud and dignified.
A small smile graced her lips as she met her stern gaze and gladly stated, "Of course I will."
The woman before her gave another pause, and a look of disbelief flickered across her features as she examined the girl sitting before her; this human girl who gently caressed the hair of the Primera Espada in her lap with not an ounce of fear in her body.
Tier had not expected her answer.
She had not expected such open and guileless kindness.
For Orihime, there couldn't have been any other answer.
..
…
TBC
…
..