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CHAPTER 15
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He should have known better.
Ichimaru had been up to no good from the moment he sensed him slip into the woman's room. It really came as no surprise that, like usual, the silver-tongued ex-Shinigami had gotten what he wanted.
It had been a mistake to take things that far with the woman in such an open space, let alone that he'd done so at all. Privacy was a luxury in Las Noches, only available in bathrooms and personal quarters, and even then it was still not guaranteed. Along with Aizen's impenetrable stock of security monitors, Szayel had no issue planting his own bugs in the most inconvenient of places.
Regardless, Ichimaru watched the monitors almost religiously. Ulquiorra had known this, yet still he had…
What a blatant foul up.
Though Aizen was far too busy to give any sort of consideration to his own security cameras, Ichimaru held no qualms about snooping into the business of others. As such, he knew exactly how to bring the matter to Aizen's attention without even having to say a word.
Ichimaru had lured her from her room and paraded her in front of Aizen for that sole purpose. Just as intended, Aizen had been quick to put him in his place. Cunning as he was, he knew how to manipulate the situation in a way that ensured not only that Ulquiorra got the message, but that the woman would no longer look at him in the same light as before.
Aizen made it a point to make sure Orihime Inoue wouldn't want him.
Now with the circumstances of his actions played out before her own eyes, the woman would likely never accept him willingly again.
And willingly it had certainly been before. With all that warmth she'd radiated, it exuded from every curve of her body. He'd never felt anything like it, not in Hueco Mundo where everything was cold and lifeless. How quickly she had opened up, spreading her legs for him without so much as a protest. The simplest touch had her melting in his hands. So responsive, so sensitive…so different from an Arrancar.
A muscle in his arm twitched, remembering how her legs had wrapped around his waist and pulled him close. Soft and compliant, she'd looked up at him with pleading eyes, asking for something he had no qualms in giving her. Bedding her would have suited his needs well enough. Although Ulquiorra never had the urge to go against orders for the mere sake of it, even he was not opposed to skirting the rules now and again, despite what other Arrancar thought of him.
Still, Ulquiorra did not intend to disobey Lord Aizen for the sake of that woman, no matter how welcoming she may have been.
However, lost in her sweet moans and the feel of her cushiony thighs, he had begun to forget himself. With that heart of hers beating in her chest, jumping and accelerating at his every touch, the gentle pulse quickening her blood had nearly consumed him. It had hummed just below the surface like a song he'd never heard before. He had felt it under his fingertips, luring him closer until he wanted to reach inside and pull it out.
He'd been slightly annoyed for allowing things to escalate so far in such a public area, and even more annoyed that it hadn't happened in a more secluded location where he could've at least finished what he'd started.
So effortlessly primed and receptive, the girl was so easily manipulated, so perfect and simply begging to be used against Kurosaki.
How very naïve she was.
And how utterly careless he'd been to let it happen.
That kiss had woken him up, reminding him that he'd overstepped. Regardless of the lust hanging in the air, or his thoughts on using her to get under Ichigo Kurosaki's skin, the encounter ended with him firmly erecting a wall between them once more.
He had given her the kiss she had apparently been longing for, and he hadn't been kind about it. As expected, her soft human flesh had given out and ripped like delicate silk at the slightest caress. Weak and fragile, it had been amazingly difficult not to do any real damage. Even the most careful pressure applied had torn into her lips like diamonds cutting through water. It was what she wanted, and so he'd let her have it. All of it. Perhaps then she would think twice about asking for it again. Now with Aizen's interference added to his own actions, it was guaranteed.
Humans were so astonishingly frail that it was a wonder such strong creatures like Hollows were ever born from the scourge of their souls. Hierro would have never given under such a faint touch and that fact only spoke to her vulnerability.
Part of him still felt annoyed that Aizen expected so much of him. To go about his usual duties and care for her, as well, seemed a near impossible task.
He'd gone out of his way to keep a close eye on her as much as his schedule would allow. He kept a tight tether on her reiatsu, always skirting the edges of it with his own. It was a safeguard that was only as useful as her proximity, considering the tie was completely severed once she was too far away for him to sense. But it still had its advantages when she was close, allowing him to feel the moment anything went amiss.
Protecting others had never been a matter that he had endeavored to perfect in the past. It was an affair that held little interest for him, most particularly so because he had nothing to protect. Yet, attending to the safety of another was surprisingly more difficult than he had originally assumed, especially when said individual disobeyed nearly every command given to them.
After her near-death experience, Ulquiorra had been forced to set other business aside in favor of her. He'd failed in the simple task of keeping her safe and he never intended to let it happen again. Ulquiorra was nothing if not thorough in his work.
However, with her it hadn't been good enough. Leaving her in her cell, allowing her the freedom of the kitchens, wandering around the tower; even during these times when he granted her free reign he vigilantly tracked her reiatsu and any passersby that happened to wander too close for his liking. But even he could not tend to her at all times. She needed constant monitoring and it was tiring his nerves. Neither was he particularly inclined to keep constant vigil on a woman that should have long ago learned that his orders were not given solely for her to break at her own whims.
At the most inopportune moment, his mind slipped and the memory of her soft lips and shy kiss seized his thoughts.
Ulquiorra stopped in his tracks and frowned.
That certainly was not normal.
Uninterested in dwelling on it, Ulquiorra pointedly ignored any apparent interest his body held in dredging up recollections of his young, willing charge.
Too young, too naïve, too weak, and too human. She was the property of Aizen Sosuke, unsuitable for anything but use as an instrument of war. He had touched what hadn't belonged to him and his master had been quick in correcting him for it.
Now with her delicate, emotional heart exposed to the death of another at his hands, her annoyingly affectionate glances would stop. As would her smiles and her flirty touches and her willingness to have him. It had been exactly what Aizen intended.
Indeed, Ichimaru had brought his indiscretion to their master's attention very well.
Making his way through the halls of the fourth tower, Ulquiorra stopped by her door and sharpened his senses when he found it completely ajar. Not too far down the corridor he'd been met with the distinct impression of Grimmjow's fist in one of his walls. The blue haired Espada's reiatsu was still hanging in the air like a rotting stench.
Of course it had been too much to expect Grimmjow may have finally lost interest in the woman. Despite spending several days distancing himself it seemed even Grimmjow had difficulty in quitting her. Like a bad habit, he just kept coming back.
Inside, the woman's spiritual pressure remained strong. Aside from the occasional wavering in her reiatsu that indicated her sense of inner distress, she was obviously unharmed.
After scanning the empty cell he strode to the open door of her bathroom. Steam billowed out over the threshold in misty clouds, filling the space with a heavy fog that carried with it her scent. Stepping inside, his eyes immediately found her figure at the far end of the room. Nude and soaking wet, she stood in front of a counter, bent at the waist and completely ignorant to his presence as she occupied herself by running a towel up the length of her leg.
He could have taken the opportunity to leave and wait for her outside the room. Aizen had made himself clear in his wishes. Yet, as he watched her, he wondered at the aftermath.
What would her reaction be to him now? Just how much would she hate him?
He wanted to see it.
Ulquiorra leaned back against the door's inner frame, waiting for her to acknowledge him. When she continued to remain oblivious, his eyes slowly began to trace down the curves of her body. In such a small space her reiatsu felt like a soft caress over his skin. It pulsated with her heartbeat and surrounded him in its rhythm, quick and strong and fluttering like a bird.
Moisture clung to every part of her. Beaded on her skin, the little droplets glinted against the faint flickers of lightning stealing in from the storm outside. As she bent further forward her round backside lifted out, revealing the pink flesh between her thighs. His gaze dropped shamelessly to the utterly candid view of her small naked sex, dragging his eyes over the glistening wet smoothness.
The night before, his fingers had tried to push inside that entrance, tiny and hot and unwilling to stretch for him. He had wondered at the tightness of her at the time. Now, seeing her so exposed and bare to his eyes…
There, away from prying eyes, he watched the way her skin moved with her motions, the way the outlines of her ribs and spine appeared to slide freely under her flesh with each breath. Along her back her fiery hair clung to those contours, curving and winding around the delicate, well-formed lines. So soft and fragile. She was something that wasn't built for battle.
He'd never seen anything quite like her.
He'd never felt, tasted, or smelled anything even remotely close to that woman.
Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed coldly, almost calculatingly, as he observed her.
Perhaps…if he approached her properly the damage done in the arena could be repaired…
Any other occasion he wouldn't have cared enough to bother. But if he couldn't solve her, he would break her. If he couldn't break her, he would use her instead - whether he was forbidden to or not. Judging from his interactions and observations with the Kurosaki boy, the best way to utterly shatter him would be through the girl. It was only then, when he could push the boy past his human preconceptions and emotions and plunge him into darkness would he become as compelling as Aizen and the woman made him out to be.
In this regard, Orihime Inoue had become invaluable to him.
"Woman."
Stiffening at the sound of his voice, Orihime's grip on her towel instantly tightened. Panic welled up in her mind. Her confusion and disappointment were still painfully fresh after seeing his treatment of that Arrancar. And now, caught naked and vulnerable, she didn't think she could face him. Even if they'd had a few carnal moments together, to think he might have seen her…she would never be able to look him in the eye again.
Orihime's blush spread clear down to her neck.
Straightening her posture, she quickly gathered her towel closer to her chest and sent him a rather cold glare over her shoulder. Though, in her ire and clumsy panic, she seemed to do a poor job in wrapping the towel completely around her body, leaving part of her backside exposed.
Even with her façade lacking its usual warmth and welcoming smile, he didn't seem to be fazed by her uncharacteristic greeting. Her eyebrows drew down at this, wondering if he even cared at all. Couldn't he feel anything? She had wanted him to. Desperately she had wanted him to feel something, anything. She had wanted him to feel things with her, to be the one responsible for sentiments that flitted across his face.
She had expected that kind of violent behavior from Grimmjow, but not Ulquiorra; the man who cut off his own arm to spare another Hollow from suffering Aizen's torturous whims, the man who stood up to Szayel for her and protected her hairpins, the only man who had ever noticed her inner strength…the man who'd saved her life. Was she just blinding herself with all those things? Misread them, perhaps? Projecting her own emotions onto his actions? It hurt too much to believe she'd been wrong.
Seeing him now, all she could think about were the screams of that Hollow in the arena.
All that time, Arturo hadn't once cried out as Grimmjow pummeled him with brutish force. Two seconds under Ulquiorra's hand and he had screamed like a child.
Her thoughts had been a whirlwind ever since. Ashamedly, she wished it had been Grimmjow who'd finished Arturo off…it was a revolting feeling to have.
She couldn't understand why Aizen had tried to make Ulquiorra do it, nor did she grasp the heated tension that had swelled up between Ulquiorra and Grimmjow during their confrontation. With them being out of earshot, she hadn't been able to hear what was said between them.
"Lord Aizen wishes to speak with you," he informed, utterly unflustered by her nudity. "I suggest you do not keep him waiting."
Orihime's eyes nearly welled up with tears at the sound of his voice. It disgusted her that her feelings still remained, that even though he had killed that Arrancar…that she still…
She swallowed hard, refusing to let him see any weakness in her.
His eyes, however, never seemed to miss a thing.
"You are upset with me," he said plainly, as if stating a simple fact.
Keeping her back to him, she pulled her gaze away to stare at the towel clutched over her breast. "A little," she admitted quietly, trying to hide the sadness in her voice. Ulquiorra disliked weakness and she refused to be seen as flawed or vulnerable in his eyes. Grimmjow may have seen her in a mess, but hell would freeze over before she ever allowed Ulquiorra to witness her breaking down. He'd only use it as ammunition.
At this, his lashes narrowed suspiciously. He had predicted a much more passionate and unfriendly response, perhaps even a lecture on violence and hearts and how the two should never mix.
Had he misjudged her reaction? Misjudged her?
Trailing his eyes down her naked back, he appraised her countenance closely. She appeared more disappointed than angered, something that was becoming irritatingly perplexing. Every time he thought he had her figured out, he was wrong. She proved him wrong.
Ulquiorra disliked being wrong, but with her it was becoming a common occurrence.
"Torturing an individual for a death sentence…it's cruel," she began solemnly. "I thought you were different."
This woman…he didn't understand her at all. Just when he thought he had grasped the workings of that human mind of hers, she contradicted every ounce of insight he believed he'd gained.
Stepping forward, he ignored the startled gasp she gave as he gripped her chin and turned her head back enough to look up at him.
Was it that heart of hers?
How annoying.
Such a concept, that something so utterly illusory could keep her so completely out of his grasp of understanding…he was getting a little sick of it. There was very little that Ulquiorra did not understand, but never to such an extent.
Intent to find his answer, his eyes searched her face with such ardent intensity that she shivered violently against him.
Where did she get her strength? Where was it coming from?
Delusions cannot produce strength, hearts were delusions, strength comes from her heart: a delusion, which cannot produce strength…the entire premise collapsed under the weight of logic. It should fall apart from the utter contradiction of it all, confusing him all the more. If not her heart, then from where?
If hearts were real, then why couldn't he see it? Why couldn't he feel it? Human or not, there were laws; if it can't be seen, it doesn't exist. Hearts were nothing more than muscles inside the chest, built to service the body by pumping blood through veins. It could not produce interwoven bonds and emotions between other hearts. Such conjecture was a physical impossibility.
It simply couldn't be real, not this thing that fell outside every boundary of his truth.
Yet, if it wasn't real…how did the woman seem to utilize it with such an artless ease that it was almost palpable in the very air around her being?
It didn't compute.
That woman…was the antithesis of his reality.
Lowering his focus, Ulquiorra found himself staring at the bruised flesh of her mouth. Why wasn't she fighting him? Why wasn't she pulling away from his touch? Pinned in place under his poignant gaze, her eyes shone with a strangely deep and profound emotion that he was unable to name, only creating more confusion.
Wasn't she afraid of him?
Unwittingly his mind slipped again, forcing him to play back the feel of her innocent kiss upon his cheek from several nights ago. She'd been so careful and sweet…
When her mouth parted slightly, he inadvertently began to pull her chin closer.
Ulquiorra hesitated, catching himself just an inch away.
He really shouldn't.
But, perhaps, if it would earn back her favor…he could…just this once…
Slowly he leaned down and softly brushed his lips against hers, catching her quiet gasp before he pulled back.
Staring up at her stoic warden, Orihime's wide eyes peered at his lips with a whirlwind of emotions. She had expected the painful tearing of teeth ripping into her flesh, not the gentle caress that had almost seemed to be seeking permission. Now, gazing up at those stern lips, she couldn't seem to look away. Their shape, their coloring…the way the subtle darkness of his upper lip softly faded into his pale complexion. The touch of black that just barely tinted the top of his bottom lip before washing out into whiteness, and that small, delicate pout that completely overrode all her senses and set off an explosion of butterflies in her belly - all of those things drew her in.
She wasn't sure what to think, but could only wonder confusedly at his actions.
Why was he being so careful? Why did he want to kiss her at all? Why was he looking at her like that? She'd never seen that look in his eyes before, so why did she feel like such a helpless victim to it?
Before she knew what hit her, her heart had taken control again, leaving common sense to take a back seat and watch on as she fell for him once more.
Hastily forgetting all the turmoil that burdened her mind, Orihime raised up onto her toes. She didn't have to go far as he met her half way.
Turning just enough to reach him, Orihime shuddered when their lips made hesitant contact before pulling back, only to quickly meld together again in a hungry embrace. Soon their flesh was sliding in a heated caress, kissing, and clinging, and sucking with growing insistence. Under its surface a distinct urgency burned and writhed in impatience, driving his lips to completely devour her timid attempts to meet his movements.
As he pulled her closer, her head gradually fell back as his mouth pressed insistently into hers, eager for entry.
Despite the easy submission, her shoulders shrank from him and her eyes never fully committed to closing in apprehension. He could see the tentative trust in them just before they finally fluttered shut. Glittering warily behind her heavy lashes, the flickers of uncertainty revealed just how susceptible she felt. He'd certainly done his job well when he'd put that wall back in place between them last time–a wall that he was now intent on tearing down again just for a taste. His fingers tightened against her jaw when she shied away at the mere brush of his teeth, flinching and tensing up as they skimmed over the wounded flesh he'd so carelessly tore through the night before. Her hesitancy was very much there, lurking in the taste of her kiss as he strove to overcome her reservations and coax his way inside.
Sliding his hand from her chin, he wrapped his cold fingers around her neck. Easily encompassing the thin column, he squeezed gently.
At her gasp he forced his way into the warm depths of her mouth. His tongue immediately found hers, seizing control and ensnaring her in a dizzying exchange of saliva and muffled sighs. Quiet and breathy, she moaned into him. Its soft pitch nearly clouded his mind, making his tongue slide against hers until he'd pulled the noise from her lips again. He probed every inch of her, tasted her rich, luscious flavor and inhaled her every panting breath until she sounded as if she were about to fall apart.
She was trusting him again.
He could scarcely believe she was letting him in after everything.
An Arrancar female would never allow such vulnerability.
They would never kiss, they would never yield, and their flesh would certainly never tear at the slightest hint of a nibble from his teeth. Dragging her bottom lip into his mouth with a soft suction, Ulquiorra felt her squirm against him when his incisors faintly brushed her. It was irritating how difficult it was just to prevent that very thing when her skin was such an impossibly frail thing.
Squeezing her neck more firmly, he forced the kiss deeper as her lips parted from the strangling pressure. Locked against the warmth of her mouth, his skin felt as if it burned from the heat of her exhales, further inflaming the friction of their lips. His tongue thrust more fully against hers, tangling the slick appendages together until her sweet sighs accompanied the hushed, wet sliding sounds of their kiss.
By all accounts, she shouldn't be letting him touch her. But against all reason, she was, and he didn't understand why. It drove him further, wanting to push harder and see just how far she'd let him go. How far did that heart of hers extend…what would it let him do?
Keen on testing that tightness and just how much she'd stretch for him, his other hand moved down her body with single-minded intent. When his icy fingers dragged down the dip of her waist and over the protrusion of her hip bone, her back arched against his chest at the smoldering trail he left behind.
Breaking away from her panting lips, his mouth crept under her jaw and pressed heavily against her ear.
"Spread your legs," his deep voice murmured quietly. At her side his fingertips followed an invisible path up the sensitive sequence of her ribs before tracing the exposed outer shell of her breast.
In an irrepressible reaction her hips tilted back at his command, presenting her bottom and opening her thighs wider. Clutching her damp towel tighter, she twisted it in her hands, refusing to surrender her hold even though, by now, it was pointless in keeping her modesty.
A hard shiver wracked her frame at the feel of his touch ghosting over the back of her leg. His shoulder dipped slightly as his hand slipped between her legs from behind and ignited a burning ember of desire with one long, deliciously slow stroke that crept up the inside of her thigh.
Gripping her towel with one hand, the other blindly reached out to get a firm grip on the edge of the counter. When he ventured further and initiated the first teasing brush of his knuckles over her sex, her head rolled backwards onto his shoulder from the inconceivably exquisite excitement that such scant contact had spawned. Tensing up, a hushed moan caught in her throat when that ember of longing abruptly exploded into a burning fire as two fingers slipped between her taut folds, spreading and rubbing the moist flesh in slow circles.
When he grazed over her clit for the first time, Orihime whimpered and was unable to stop the hard buck of her hips as they jerked back into his hand. Her vaginal walls clamped down at the new sensation, sending waves of heat searing through every inch of her body. With lazy, lingering strokes he drew circle after circle along the inside of her dampness, growing tantalizingly closer to her aching entrance before moving away, only to cruelly inch closer once more. He continued on, purposefully tormenting her and manipulating her body until she was nothing more than a hot, writhing mess that felt as if her womanhood were ready to melt if he didn't give her body what it desired soon.
A soft cry left her when his torturous ministrations finally settled over her opening, massaging its silky rim in more maddening circles before unexpectedly pressing down against the small cavity. Finally dropping her towel completely, Orihime buried her hand in his hair as the intensity between them sent her mind into a fog. With tempered insistence he worked that one tiny spot, trying to squeeze past that first ring of tightness. His hair swept across her shoulder and his teeth raked down her neck, making her squirm as he began to push harder. It felt so good, nearly driving her into delirium by the time he felt her suddenly give out and slip around his fingertips.
Somewhere in the back of her clouded mind, she felt the vague softness of his lips against her temple as he eased his fingers into her dripping sex. Like endless, fathomless heat, she clamped down on him as he pushed past her opening, stretching her with gentle pressure.
Suddenly breathless, Orihime whimpered as her feet tried to inch apart. With a terse and somewhat annoyed nudge from his knee, Ulquiorra pushed her legs open and forced her further onto the countertop before abruptly driving his fingers deeper. Bent over the slippery granite slab, Orihime rolled her hips back into the motion as the first inklings of fullness teased along her periphery.
When resistance wrapped tightly around his knuckles, Orihime released a sharp groan of pain. Rolling her face into the crook of his neck, she pressed her lips hard into the collar of his jacket just as he paused. The pressure there was strong, overwhelming the delicate flesh that felt as if it would tear were he to venture even a centimeter deeper.
Orihime couldn't help but knit her brow when he stopped. Even with her eyes clenched shut, she could already sense the little bubbles of irritation silently radiating from him.
Biting her lip, she squirmed impatiently and gave a little grunt of unhappiness at the interruption in pleasure brought on by his pausing.
"Ulqui," she pouted cajolingly, grinding her rear into his pelvis in hopes of encouraging him.
His head dropped to her neck, exhaling quietly.
"Woman…" he warned steadily.
Her brow knit again in a fit of indignation, wanting immediate gratification. Pressing the heel of her palm into the shelf, she promptly pushed back into his hand. Instantly Orihime gasped at the sting of stretching flesh.
His hand was suddenly at her jaw then, gripping it tight and dragging her head back to whisper against her ear.
"Woman," he crooned with terrifying softness. With a gentle push and a slight spread of his fingers, he expanded her flesh to its limits, just short of breaking that delicate tissue that was stopping him from progressing. "That's all it would take…" He gave another subtle push for emphasis, nearly tearing her. "…for me to break you." Dark and quiet, the deep timbre of his voice felt as if it were crawling across her skin, sending tingling yet frightening waves of excitement to her belly.
Without thought she rolled her hips back. In the back of her mind, she knew what he was saying, knew the point he was making. Yet, for once, she wasn't quite so opposed to sinking him deeper and breaching that barrier on her own. She'd never felt anything so wonderfully titillating. Parting her lips, she groaned against his jaw and exhaled shakily from the increasing sting.
"Ulquiorra," she whined imploringly, moving on an instinct of urgent lust, desire, and desperation. Bringing up both arms, she buried her fingers in his hair and raked her nails down the harsh grooves of his mask. She nipped and kissed along his jaw, tugging impatiently at his hair until it tangled in her hand.
Releasing a heavy moan, her eyes fluttered shut as he slowly drove his long fingers knuckle deep into her moist heat - only to proceed to rock them inside her in a steady, throbbing cadence.
"Oh, Ulquiorra," she sighed approvingly as the harsh sting of torn flesh quickly faded away under his easy caress.
Ulquiorra's hand snaked back around her neck, his fingers stealing along her jaw to lift her chin and expose her throat to the cold sweep of his lips. The weak pop lingered against the pads of his fingers, haunting his mind with the feel of it.
Pulling them back slowly, he pushed forward once in one full stroke. Like warm cream melting from her body, her heady moisture coated his flesh as she curved her back, fully receptive and eager to receive the new motion.
With another, slightly more forceful thrust, Ulquiorra clenched his jaw when he felt those scorching hot walls clench shyly around his fingers. He should take her now. Now that she was pliable and willing, and moving against him readily, while he had her nice and wet and fit for stretching, now that he had her somewhere private and secure; he should fuck her now…before he did something else to upset her again.
Suddenly, every tight little muscle around his fingers quivered feverishly, momentarily cutting off all thought and sense in him. Perhaps it was normal for humans or perhaps she was just easy to please, but as she gasped and panted under him he could feel she was already close to orgasm.
Bent over the cabinet, ass up, legs spread, and back arched, he doubted she even realized how openly her body language spoke to her eagerness for a proper fucking.
With one hand preoccupied between her thighs, he released her neck and planted his palm atop the counter. Allowing his eyes to slide closed, Ulquiorra dropped his forehead against her nape and inhaled her scent, slowly letting his control slip enough to allow his already half-hard member to begin to grow heavy with need. Her backside suddenly pressed into him then, blindly grinding against his semi-erect shaft. Biting back a grunt, Ulquiorra forced his fingers into her hard, pushing her away from his groin and lifting her toes clear off the ground.
He'd only just pulled his hand back for another quick thrust when he felt it: half way across Las Noches someone had broken the seal to the Hogyoku's vault. The disturbance rippled out like a wave, breaking through the reishi surrounding area and alerting his pesquisa.
His eyes narrowed and he paused his ministrations, focusing his senses toward its direction. At his stillness, Orihime's fractured pants died off in the heavy silence that fell over the room. Slow and a bit lethargic, she came to her senses when she realized he'd stopped. He remained quiet as if suspended in a moment. His lips became motionless against her skin and his cool breath splayed across the side of her throat as he appeared to concentrate on something.
"Ulquiorra?" she said hesitantly.
Pulling away from her, he seemed to completely lose all interest.
"Something has happened," he stated vaguely. "We must leave now."
When his fingers carefully pulled out of her, Orihime bit her lip to hold back the discomfort.
"Get dressed, woman," he ordered, sounding a bit distracted. Glancing down, he briefly eyed the small hint of crimson staining his palm, diluted amidst the mixture of her creamy fluids. After a moment's scrutiny, he pocketed the hand and turned to the door. "Lord Aizen is waiting for you. We should not keep him waiting any longer."
Still leaning against the counter, Orihime stared over her shoulder in disbelief as his figure disappeared behind the frame of the door. Her face was red and her eyes were wide as she remained unmoving, still a little breathless.
What just happened?
Had she done something wrong?
No, she thought, torn somewhere in between anger and insecurity. She hadn't done anything wrong…other than being stupid enough to fall for his kiss all over again like a fool.
How could she have let him? One moment she was incensed by his presence and the next she had melted under his touch.
Stupid, she scolded herself again, dismissing the sting burning the backs of her eyes. At least she'd learned her lesson, even if it had come at a high price. Then again, that's how most lessons were learned. Nothing ever came free.
Pulling back from the countertop, she grabbed her towel and wrapped it around her as she made her way out of the bathroom, trying to ignore the slight trembling in her legs. After stepping into her room her eyebrows furrowed at finding Ulquiorra missing.
"Ulquiorra?" she called out and received no answer. "Hello?" Resting her hand against the frame of the doorway, she peered around uncertainly.
Had he not wanted her to hurry? Why would he have left?
For once, she was glad he was gone. She didn't think she could handle another second in his company. With his cold lips and even colder looks, Orihime didn't want to acknowledge the painful ache his dismissal had caused, not after what she'd just given him. Even thinking about what had happened in the arena hurt too much to try and contemplate at the moment. It only made it worse after she'd kissed him so fervently while she was still confused over how she felt about him. She'd gone and acted with her heart again before thinking with her head first.
Now he owned something no other man would take from her again.
Did he even understand the complexity and importance of such a thing?
Surely he must. He'd been the one to warn her what that hand of his would do to her. Yet she blindly pushed on like an impatient fool.
She fell for him every time, molding like putty in his hands at the slightest caress. His kiss, his touch, everything, she'd never felt anything like Ulquiorra before. At least she could console herself in the knowledge that such impulsiveness was a recurring behavior throughout her life. It often led her into trouble, so perhaps Ulquiorra was not entirely to blame.
The only problem was, Tatsuki wasn't there to bail her out every time now. Neither could she call out to Ichigo and have him come running in like some valiant knight who only lived to serve and rescue her.
With a huff, Orihime made her way over to her chifferobe. She absolutely would not allow this to affect her mood any longer. Quickly slipping into a fresh uniform and boots, she settled for a hasty mirror check before moving on. Taking another look around, she made her way over to the door and cautiously peeked around the corner. She gasped with a start when she found her warden waiting just outside her door. Leaning against the wall beside the entrance, he cast an aloof glance her way before turning to stroll down the hall, evidently expecting her to follow.
Orihime stared after his back for a short moment and swallowed her nerves before falling into step behind him.
Despite knowing things would undoubtedly be tense after what just occurred, Orihime still sensed something was wrong.
Something about him seemed…off. She couldn't put her finger on it, but his movements were stiffer than usual, more mechanical than the confident precision he normally carried himself with.
"Ulquiorra?" she called after some time of traveling in silence. She wasn't sure if it was the quiet that was getting to her or simply the fact that he seemed to be intentionally not talking to her, or even that he seemed different in a very un-Ulquiorra-like way, but she felt it (whatever it was) needed to be addressed. "Ulquiorra?" she said a little more insistently and reached out to tug on the back of his jacket. When he didn't pause at her hesitant tug, she gazed up at his back with troubled eyes. "What is going on?"
She was beginning to rethink her previous conclusion. Maybe she had done something to upset him and just didn't know it. What if she had offended him during their tryst with some sort of unsexy faux pas? She didn't know much about those things and it embarrassed her to think she was clumsy enough to make such a humiliating blunder.
Sighing, Orihime dropped her hand from his jacket and tried not to crack under the strange ache plaguing her chest. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her upset, least of all over him. If she wanted to prove to herself, her friends, and to Ulquiorra that her heart was as strong as she claimed it to be, there would be no room for doubting herself nor for breaking under the slightest pressure.
She'd already had this conversation with herself. Ulquiorra was not going to be an easy man to reach.
Orihime Inoue knew how to take a little rejection and heartache. It wasn't going to kill her. She had well enough experience with Ichigo and rejection to fall back on.
In the tall, vaulted hall, the patter of their footsteps filled the void of silence, making her thoughts all the louder. However, when Ulquiorra suddenly stopped in front of her, Orihime cast him a questioning glance. Due to the vast size of Las Noches as well as the distance needed to travel from one point to another, her warden rarely made pit stops. Not to mention, they were certainly not close enough to Aizen's quarters to have arrived at their destination.
Before her, Ulquiorra stared off to his left, gazing into an open doorway that led to a dimly lit space. She had just parted her lips to ask where they were when her warden's voice broke the dull silence.
"What are you doing?"
Curious, Orihime inched closer to peek around his shoulder.
There, surrounded by shadows in the center of the dark room stood an Arrancar she was unfamiliar with. Male, tall and slender with a mask that completely covered the upper left quadrant of his head, including his left eye. He appeared fairly Latin in his looks - particularly so with his sleek hair and old English mustache.
Judging by the surprised look on his face, it seemed Ulquiorra had caught him off guard.
However, what really struck her was the little glowing orb mounted on the small stand behind him. Positioned beside a lone chair, it was the only source of illumination in the empty room.
She had seen that orb once before. Aizen had shown it to her…the Hogyoku.
Orihime felt dread sink into her gut when she realized what they had likely just stumbled into.
"Ulquiorra," the Arrancar said, clearly displeased to have been interrupted amidst whatever sneaky business he was apparently conducting. "I wasn't expecting you."
"Clearly." Deep and monotone as it was, Ulquiorra's smooth voice barely seemed to make an echo in the large room. "This is not a place you should be entering without Lord Aizen's permission, Patros."
"Permission?" Patros replied. "I'll tell you something, I've grown tired of your suck-up attitude."
Orihime's brow knit tightly, immediately catching the undertones of hostility in his words.
"Regarding?" Ulquiorra edged plainly.
"Lord Aizen," Patros drawled the ex-Reaper's name as if it were a distasteful flavor in his mouth. "Always with Aizen…and the Espada are all following suit as well. I don't get it. It makes no sense." Staring Ulquiorra down, Patros's face dipped into a mild frown. When he took a small step forward Orihime resisted the urge to retreat further behind her warden's back. "Just look at what has become of you, one of the most powerful Espada in Hueco Mundo…reduced to babysitting for a human child. How long before he begins degrading the rest of us with such meaningless tasks? An army of Hollows, for what? To strip us of everything that makes us Hollow? We were designed for power, for destruction, and yet he holds us back and uses us like cattle." Despite his efforts, the spark of his anger shone through his words in rising intervals, betraying his vehemence.
"It's an unpleasant feeling," he said deeply, the subject matter genuinely vexing him. "He's nothing but a Soul Reaper. Why should powerful Hollows have to take orders from a Soul Reaper? It makes absolutely no sense whatsoever." Then, losing his calm façade in a moment of passion, Patros's expression contorted into a look of pure rage. "Hollows eat souls and crush Soul Reapers!" he shouted and abruptly demanded, "Why?"
When he suddenly disappeared from sight only to reappear directly beside Ulquiorra a split second later with his fist raised, Orihime gasped and stepped back. "Tell me!" Outraged by the disservice to his kind, his fist slammed into the wall beside Ulquiorra's head.
Undaunted by his zealous display, Ulquiorra merely continued to meet his stare unflinchingly.
"Tell me why our freedom was taken away, and for someone like him. You know Aizen used Hollows in his experiments," he said. Flickers of disgust played across his unattractive features, incensed by the idea that Hollows could willingly follow someone who'd abused their species in such a way.
Orihime faltered at this, considering his claims and the repercussions of their meaning.
Even though she knew more than the average human about Hollows and their environment, she was still lacking in certain knowledge. She'd learned of how Aizen had transformed them into Arrancar from her brief discussions with Captain Ukitake and others during her short stay in the Soul Society before Ulquiorra had taken her. Even Aizen himself explained to her some of the ways he'd put the Hogyoku to use. But still, to think he had experimented on sentient creatures, even if they were Hollows…it was beyond appalling.
In her mind, a scenario of her Hollowfied brother being tortured at the hands of Aizen's heartless testing played out in her mind. Hollows were indeed scary at times, but nobody deserved that. She certainly wouldn't have wanted it for her brother.
"I know. So what's your point?" Ulquiorra said, not the least bit bothered by this fact.
"Ever since he appeared this place has changed," Patros stated, clearly seeing Aizen's presence as more of a plague than any type of God. With renewed purpose, Patros moved back into the dark depths of the room, his long shadow stretching out under his boots. "Unlike the rest of you, I have no intention of following a Soul Reaper."
"I see." The timbre of her warden's voice slid along the walls, quiet and unobtrusive and so unlike Patros's harsh tenor that seemed to grate at the air.
"Ulquiorra, why don't we use the Hogyoku ourselves and control the world? Doesn't that make more sense?" Placing his hand atop the jewel, his eyes shifted their focus to Orihime. A small smirk played across his lips. "With that girl, not only can we fix the Hogyoku and leave Aizen empty handed…but it will also leave him completely defenseless against the Soul Society. He will be done for good and we wouldn't even have to lift a finger."
There was a moment of tense quiet between them before Ulquiorra responded.
Closing his eyes and turning away, Orihime knew him well enough to recognize the dismissal. "How can you control the world when you can't even become an Espada?" Hands pocketed, he strode to the other end of the large doorway where he stopped to level the Arrancar with a dry stare. "You are living in a fantasy."
"So I don't have your support…"
Ulquiorra's noncommittal grunt spoke to his opinion of the man.
"Fine, then I've no choice." At the change in Patros's tone, Orihime felt the atmosphere shift ominously.
She didn't see it coming, not when they were moving so fast. She hadn't even sensed their reiatsu until they were already on top of him. Appearing without warning, a young redheaded Arrancar suddenly materialized behind Ulquiorra, catching him off guard. Orihime quite literally felt her heart drop to her feet. She watched, completely helpless, as his blade carved a devastating trail up Ulquiorra's back. In its wake a fountain of his blood sprayed outwards, painting the walls red. With her throat constricting, Orihime suddenly felt very sick. Before a single sound could slip from her lips, before Ulquiorra could even counter the attack, and before she could call out her shield, another much larger male Arrancar manifested in front of him and drove his blade deep into the Espada's chest, nearly knocking him off his feet.
Ulquiorra's eyes were wide with shock. Frozen in place, a horribly quiet choking cough sputtered in the back of his throat as a single stream of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. Slowly lowering his head, Ulquiorra stared down at the blade impaling his chest and staggered back a step. When he tried to take another breath, a gush of blood suddenly spilled from his lips and poured down his chin; the sound bubbly, wet, and disturbing.
"Fortunately I already have two supporters…" Patros's voice barely registered in her mind as the large brute mercilessly retracted his blade from Ulquiorra's chest. Orihime gasped, her hands fisting in her skirt when he abruptly dropped to his knees hard. There was so much blood. Coating his uniform, tainting the virginal white floors…it was everywhere and it showed no signs of slowing down as it continued to pool around him in a fast growing circle.
"No!" she cried out and immediately rushed to his side. "Ulquiorra!" She hadn't made it two steps before the large dark skinned Arrancar had her wrapped in his arms, holding her back. "No! Let me go!" She struggled uselessly, fighting in vain against his painful grip. "You can't! You can't hurt him! I won't let you!"
"Patros," Ulquiorra uttered brokenly, pinning the man with a quickly fading stare.
In the blink of an eye, Patros had closed the distance between them. At his side, his hand rested on the hilt of his sword.
"It's really too bad." He smirked maliciously.
Orihime's hand reached for him as she strained in futility against her captor. With tears blurring her vision, she was forced to watch Ulquiorra suffer the price of her inadequacies; helpless, powerless, and useless. Releasing a horrified scream, Orihime felt her heart shatter into a million pieces as Patros's sword slashed an unforgiving and deep score up his torso. From hip to shoulder, it tore into him, spraying his blood in an explosion of color.
Her entire body shook as all sense, all sight and all sound - everything but her tunneling vision of Ulquiorra - faded away, forcing her to watch as he collapsed lifelessly to the floor.
"No!" Her pained scream ripped through the halls, haunting any who may have heard. With renewed vigor, she thrashed even harder, trying to break free to reach his side. "Ulquiorra! Ulquiorra! No, let me go!" Against her back, the Arrancar growled in annoyance and tried to gain control of her flailing limbs. "Please let me go!"
All she could think was to get to him, to help him and reverse the damage those men had done. Without an ounce of guilt, she slapped at his face and beat on his arm, unwilling to give up no matter how futile her efforts may have been.
Ulquiorra had pitted her against Yammy…she'd fought him and survived not once, but twice. She had faced Nnoitra and came away with the victory of cutting through the most impenetrable Hierro in Aizen's army. Now, she refused to allow them to overpower her without a fight. She would not fail Ulquiorra when he needed her most! He had saved her life once. It was time for her to return the favor.
"Tsubaki! Santen Zanshun! Now!"
Like a tiny blast of lightning, the little point of light came out of her with more power than ever before. It charged through the air and penetrated deep into the side of the Arrancar holding her back, nearly taking his arm off in the process.
With a loud curse, he relinquished his hold on the small human girl and turned to examine his bleeding wound.
Once dropped, Orihime's feet moved without delay as she wrenched herself out of his reach. Face down and lying in the harsh outline of the hallway's light, Ulquiorra's body appeared frighteningly still. She collapsed onto her knees at his side, fighting off her panic as his blood soaked her skirts. Even now that crimson liquid was as cold as ice as it saturated her petticoat and drenched her skin.
Swallowing back her dread, she immediately spread her shield over his body. Intent to reverse the damage, she gave every ounce of her reiatsu to her fairies.
She leaned over him, her shaking hands hesitant to touch him. Her fingers hovered over his back, trembling, unsure and fearful of his terrible stillness. Barely containing her sobs, Orihime rolled him onto his back and pulled him close, desperate to feel any sign of life from him. But he didn't respond. His dead weight was heavy in her arms as she wrapped them around his neck and pressed her face into his hair.
There was no life in him. She couldn't feel his breath, his reiatsu…nothing.
"No…" she moaned brokenly, refusing to believe he could be gone. Instead, she focused more of her energy into her shield and held him tighter. "Please…no," she whispered against his neck, ultimately losing the battle to contain her tears.
The three Arrancar stood like a small mob before his fallen body, staring down at her with a cold air of superiority.
"Without doubt…the Espada have fallen." Arrogant and clearly proud of his achievement in taking down the fourth Espada, Patros sheathed his sword. In the agonizing quiet of the room, its resounding click held a note of finality that almost made her vomit. "I never really hated you, though." Straightening his stance, he planted his hand upon his hip as his subordinates moved closer. "It's just business."
When the two Arrancar began to approach, Orihime nearly bared her teeth at them in a last ditch effort to keep them at bay.
"Stay away from him!" she hissed defensively. Protectively she covered his motionless form with her own body, determined to shield him from any further harm. "I won't let you hurt him!" she warned fiercely. She tried to appear more formidable than she truly was. However, unfazed by her threat, they seemed far from intimidated.
"Tch, stupid human," the redhead said. His patronizing yellow eyes were glaring down at her. With a villainous smirk, he chuckled cruelly. "She doesn't even realize he's already dead." Orihime's entire world turned inside out at his words, making her incredibly dizzy. "Really, that was easy," he declared with a condescending scoff. He was looking at Ulquiorra's body as if it were the most wretched thing he'd set his eyes upon. Openly, they displayed their disappointment in the lack of challenge he'd presented despite the fact that they had ambushed him unfairly.
"Yeah, pretty pathetic for an Espada," the bigger one agreed. He seemed unaffected by the slight wound she inflicted upon him. "Should we take the girl?" he asked Patros.
"No. Now that I've seen how weak she is, leave her to rot with her worthless Espada," Patros said dismissively. "With that Shinigami in Karakura Town, we should have no need for something as worthless as her. If he knows how to use it, he'll know how to fix it." Striding over to the jewel nestled innocently in its casing, Patros plucked it from its small compartment. "We're going to make Aizen regret the day he decided to strengthen us with the Hogyoku." Smiling down on the glowing gem, he turned to his companions. "And then…I will become king."
Orihime dropped her head to her warden's chest. She was uninterested in listening to anything they had to say. The only thing she wanted to hear was a sign of life inside Ulquiorra. She waited and waited for a breath, for a single rise of his chest, but was met with nothing. She was becoming painfully aware of the lack of movement that should have accompanied his breathing.
The room grew eerily silent when the rebels disappeared in a flicker of sonido, leaving her utterly alone.
"No," she groaned distraughtly. "Ulquiorra," she called out to him and let her fingers grip the front of his bloody jacket tighter. "Ulquiorra, please…please wake up." When his head merely rolled to the side like a limp doll, she couldn't stop the whine of panic that escaped her throat.
Somebody, anybody, please help!
With his lips softly parted and his beautiful green eyes frozen open in an unseeing stare, that cold grip of hysteria quickly began to creep in and eat away at what little rationality she had left. As the seconds ticked by and the more reiatsu she yielded to her shield, the more she realized nothing was happening. Her Rikka wasn't working. He wasn't healing.
Was it too late? Had she not tried soon enough?
Why had she allowed her last thoughts of him to be so negative?!
Orihime's chin trembled as she softly touched his cheek in an effort to rouse a response from him. But he wasn't waking up, he wasn't moving, wasn't breathing, wasn't anything.
Realization eventually dawned on her that he was dead.
For a good while she tried to convince herself otherwise. She wanted to believe that he would come back, that it was just going to take a little more time. However, the blood on her hands said otherwise.
Bracing herself, Orihime's nails dug into his jacket as a long, mournful moan was wrenched out from the depths of her soul. It lingered in the air before waning off into shattered and ebbing whimpers. Her cries went unheard, answered only by her own echoes and pleads for help. Her cheeks felt cold from the wetness of her tears, made bitter and freezing in the frigid air of Hueco Mundo.
Please, don't go.
It felt as if she were falling apart.
He was never going to look at her with those large, searching eyes ever again. He'd never kiss her, never scold her, never be there to wake her in the mornings when she slept in. He'd never frown at her when she did something he particularly disapproved of; never, never…ever…again.
Her darkest fears, the very fears she had tried to hide, that she would never be able to protect her friends, had somehow come to fruition. Right before her very eyes, his body was proof of her weakness.
If only she'd been stronger.
Like some terrible, cruel twist of fate, it was in that moment as he lay dead in her arms with his blood on her hands and in her hair, and on her lips - it was that moment when she was faced with the heartbreaking reality that she would never again hear his voice - that she realized she loved him.
All his faults and cold, unfeeling flaws disappeared in the face of the fact that he was gone to her forever. She would have done anything if only she could get him back, just for that last chance to tell him how she felt, to show him the heart.
Weaving her fingers together with his own, she pressed his palm to her cheek and curled deeper into his chest. With sobs wracking her shoulders, Orihime remained by his side under the cold light of Las Noches' halls; lost, broken, and alone.
It felt good to sleep in, especially considering he'd just suffered through another long, grueling night of training. Along with the fact he needn't worry about school anymore, Ichigo had developed a rather unfortunate habit of slumbering well into the noon hours of the day.
The winter months had slowly ebbed into the first few glimpses of spring, leaving the air fairly warm, fresh, and just a little crisp at times.
The sun had been bright that morning. Stealing in through his window, it crept along his bed until it reached his closed eyes. Ichigo groaned at the disturbance. His lashes fluttered groggily and he quickly rolled over in his bed, trying to avoid the annoying rays of sunlight.
He'd only just dozed off again when he felt it.
Somewhere over Karakura Town the loud static purr of a garganta being ripped open could be heard throughout the neighborhood. Reishi poured out from the gapping portal, bearing down on the citizens as more and more chaotic energy surged from its yawning maw.
Ichigo shot up in his bed.
He didn't need his Shinigami badge to tell him what he could already feel. With such great spiritual pressure, he already knew.
Hollows had arrived in Karakura Town.
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TBC
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