When Ichigo Kurosaki shook Aizen's hand, everyone noticed the muscle in his cheek twitch.
"Mr Kurosaki," Aizen said smoothly. "I'm glad you made some time to talk. Please, sit."
Kurosaki's expression was stony, but he relented, his eyes scanning the room — no doubt searching for Grimmjow, who was in the med bay recovering from his lashings.
"I believed it would be for the best if Grimmjow was not present at this meeting," Aizen explained. "Although I can guarantee you, we've made it clear how disagreeable his actions were to us. Tell me — how are your businesses recovering?"
"They're recovering," Ichigo said shortly.
"If there's any assistance you need…"
"Look," Ichigo began, "play it straight with me, alright? What do you want?"
Ulquiorra watched Aizen out of the corner of his eye. The man didn't move a single muscle, but Ulquiorra knew from past experience that men who interrupted Sosuke Aizen met with a fate that reminded them never to interrupt him again. They had the scars to prove it.
But Aizen seemingly let it slide. "I'm not sure what you mean, Mr Kurosaki."
"I can't dumb it down any more than that, Aizen."
Aizen's mouth tensed. "Perhaps I should have been clearer. It is…difficult for me to understand what a man in my position could possibly want from a man in your position. Does the ant ever ask the man with his boot hovering above it what he wants?"
Gin Ichimaru cackled behind a closed fist. The rest of the room was silent.
"Your guy blew up my distillery." Ichigo looked smug. "I think it's pretty obvious that either he, or you, wanted the east and couldn't believe I had the balls to get in there and just take it."
A rare flash of anger streaked across Aizen's eyes, but it cooled just as fast as it had arrived. "It is true that I'm disappointed in your haste. I recall promising you that you would get your slice in due time. I had promised Grimmjow the same. It seems both of you were too impatient and short-sighted to await my counsel." He held up a hand. "Nevertheless, an injustice has been delivered from my side to yours. It is well within your right to ask for compensation."
Ulquiorra shifted in his seat, curious. He wondered what the young man would ask for — money, territory or political power? These were the logical, most obvious choices for men who lived in their time. Perhaps they would be for all of time.
Or was Ichigo Kurosaki audacious enough to ask for all three, seeing as he was in a position where he could take advantage of the situation? Ulquiorra wouldn't put it past him.
"Mercy," Ichigo replied, and Ulquiorra's eyes widened. "I'm sure you're aware that a witness survived your attempt on my distillery."
Aizen nodded.
"I have, in good faith, encouraged her not to speak to anyone about the incident — not even to my friends in the press," Ichigo explained. "I know better than to approach the police, since they either belong to you or not to you — but never to me. All I ask is that you spare her life. She's young and has nothing to do with what goes on in these rooms."
Aizen smiled. "Is that all?"
"You give me your word, we let this slide," Ichigo confirmed.
"You're an honorable man, Kurosaki," Tosen said, and Ulquiorra sensed the respect in his voice. Ulquiorra held back a sneer. Virtue was empty, meaningless — as meaningless as the laws and systems that governed their society. There was no inherent reward for protecting a child in this world, just as there was no punishment for killing it. It was people that made these rules up — scared children making up rules to protect themselves from their own beastly natures.
What would a world outside those rules look like? Ulquiorra knew. They lived in it, after all, and in that world, honor was meaningless. The only things of value were what you could hold in the palm of your hand. Money, territory, political power.
"Very well." Aizen reached out, and Ichigo stood up to offer his hand. They shook on it, though Ulquiorra wondered if Ichigo was naive enough to believe this would be the last of their encounters. A disrespect had occurred in Ichigo taking the east. No matter how long Aizen waited, he was not the type to wait forever to dish out his punishment.
Ichigo left soon after, and Ulquiorra waited for everyone else to clear the room, as he often did when he wanted an audience with Sosuke Aizen. Grimmjow's impulsive attack on the Kurosaki territory had received mixed reactions — Kaname Tosen and Tier Harribel were outraged by the autonomy of such a gesture. When decisions were made, they preferred to make them as a unit. They preferred their decisions to follow a methodical, internal logic. They were furious that there had been a witness, and even more furious that the witness was now officially under the Kurosakis' protection.
Gin Ichimaru, on the other hand, had gleefully cackled like a child. He was amused by violence, but Ulquiorra suspected that there was a deeper, vengeful streak to his glee. He was a man most sadistic, kept at bay only by one person — Aizen.
Ulquiorra, of course, found Grimmjow's outburst to be pathetic, but he knew that if Grimmjow had the means to do it at all, it must have only been because Aizen allowed it. There was no such thing as autonomy in a kingdom that had eyes everywhere. If a puppet moved, it was only because the puppeteer had permitted it.
Aizen smiled at Ulquiorra after the last of their sparse crowd cleared the room. He waited.
"If I may ask a question," Ulquiorra began.
"Certainly, Ulquiorra." Aizen reached for a bottle and began pouring a drink, the crimson liquid spilling into his glass, and then Ulquiorra's.
"You must have known that Grimmjow would be offended by Kurosaki's moves in the east. He's been waiting for you to assign him and his crew a borough for a long time," Ulquiorra said slowly. "You must have also known that Kurosaki would be offended by Grimmjow's attack on his enterprises."
"It's unwise to ask a question without asking a question," Aizen said and Ulquiorra glanced up quickly to see if he had caused offense. Instead, Aizen looked amused, as he often did when someone had discovered a truth of some kind. He took pleasure in others' growth, in their learning.
Ulquiorra frowned. "Why didn't you intervene in either scenario?"
Aizen handed him his glass. Ulquiorra took it but didn't drink just yet.
"The idea of survival of the fittest is as old as time itself," Aizen explained. "Has there ever been a dynasty that didn't die to pave way for another, stronger one?"
"You want them to battle each other," Ulquiorra remarked.
"To grow, one must be tested," Aizen continued. "One who earns his rank often becomes complacent after a time. He doesn't have the thirst to grow anymore — to evolve. He has forgotten what it takes to make it up the ladder. Introduce a threat and you'll see who wants it more — who will fight for it harder." Aizen paused, gently running his finger along the rim of his glass. "I suppose it would be interesting to give Mr Kurosaki and Mr Jaegerjacques a reminder."
"And who would you prefer to come out on top?"
Aizen's smile was sharp, cutting. "Whoever would benefit my institution more. Of course, I have no hand in the matter. It is natural selection who will choose her ultimate winner."
Ulquiorra let that information sit in his head. While he had no particular affection towards Grimmjow, he had developed an intense aggravation towards Kurosaki and his modes of thinking.
He decided it was time to plot.
..
..
Grimmjow's attack had, in some ways, triggered a series of changes in both Ichigo's business and his personal matters.
On his home front was the matter of Nel, who had settled comfortably in the Kurosaki household like she belonged there. The adoption and court proceedings had flown by quickly enough, and, after an honest conversation with the child, Ichigo had agreed to let her be home-schooled under Ikumi's tutelage.
Ikumi had grumbled and groused about the new responsibility — for even though she was his employee, she often behaved as his boss and minder — but even she couldn't resist the allure of a pay raise. She had been intending to get re-married for a while now, and Ichigo supposed that proved motivation enough to accept her new task.
Meanwhile, as the distillery underwent reconstruction, he and Orihime tried to figure out ways to calculate their losses.
"I mean, it shouldn't be too bad," Orihime said, running one finger over their profit books. She looked serious, her lips mouthing over the numbers as she tried to calculate their averages. Ichigo forced himself to look away. "We had higher profits than we expected in the opening months, so if we cut back on dividends, we should be okay."
Despite himself, Ichigo felt relieved. "Okay, so we close, what? Two—three hours early for the next few weeks?"
Orihime nodded. "And we reduce the intake. Ask our bouncers to be selective with the number of customers they let in."
"Prioritize the heavier pockets?"
Orihime's face fell, but she sighed like they had no choice. They were not a highbrow establishment and she never wanted them to be, but this would have to be done until the distillery got back up and running.
"Tell the bouncers the protocol," Ichigo told Mizuiro, who was sitting at the armchair opposite Orihime.
Mizuiro nodded, then hesitated. "This is all well and good, but if we really do want to substitute our sales while the bar is closed, then—"
"No," Ichigo said firmly.
"It would be so—"
"No," Ichigo said again and glared. "What's wrong with you?"
Orihime looked back and forth between them, a little confused. "Um, what is it?"
Mizuiro turned his best salesman voice in Orihime's direction. "You know the most ruthless businessmen in this country aren't people like you and me, Miss Inoue. They're doctors."
Orihime raised a brow. "How so, Mr Kojima?"
Ichigo groaned, deciding to cut things short before Mizuiro got too carried away. "With the vice laws, desperate people are going to doctors faking colds and coughs so they'll get prescription alcohol. This guy—" Ichigo jerked a thumb at Mizuiro, "— wants to bribe a few doctors into selling our shitty stuff instead of the trusted brands."
"Just until the distillery is back up," Mizurio beamed.
"Our stuff is not shitty," Orihime huffed. "My honey-lemon-gin combo sold really well!"
"Nevertheless, we are not giving our bottles to doctors," Ichigo said firmly. "People are going to die and that'll be on our conscience."
"Wait," Orihime said abruptly, and both Ichigo and Mizuiro glanced at her. "Maybe we're going to have a low sales week, but what if I told you we could get it all—or at least most of it—back in one night?"
"I'd tell you you've been hanging around Mizuiro too much," Ichigo said dryly, ignoring a grinning Mizuiro. Then, he sobered up a little. "What have you got on your mind, Miss Inoue?"
Orihime smiled, putting both her hands on top of each other confidently. "What if I told you gentlemen that there was going to be a gigantic party on New Year's Eve—and everyone we knew was invited?"
"Who would be hosting?" Mizuiro asked, curious.
Orihime simply grinned.
"We would," Ichigo replied, more attuned to her ways of thinking than Mizuiro was. Despite himself, he smiled. He had to say, there were days where he thanked the man upstairs for whatever fate that sent Orihime knocking on his door and no other. He stood up and nodded at her. "We'll put something together. I'll be in touch."
Orihime beamed. "Have a nice day, Mr Kurosaki."
..
..
Even though most of Orihime's ideas sounded eccentric and exaggerated, Ichigo couldn't help but admit that they were solid in execution. She made things work. The hype for their upcoming party had reached so many corners of the city that even his sisters caught wind of it.
"But why can't we come?" Yuzu begged, nearly clinging onto him as he tried to leave. "We're of age!"
"There is no such thing as 'of age'," Ichigo reminded, gently knocking Yuzu on the head. "Liquor is illegal."
Yuzu and Karin rolled their eyes. Both girls knew more than well that liquor was thriving — why, their own brother had told them that if they were drinking at all, he'd rather they drink from his business than from sources he couldn't really trust. Ichigo was not an unreasonable brother that way, but he was still overprotective in other, more frustrating ways. He had become the man of the house so early in his life, sometimes it felt like he never let loose.
"I bet he doesn't want us to come so he can keep us hidden from his girlfriend," Karin said with a smirk, and Ichigo nearly choked. "Oh, yeah, we hear the rumors — Miss Inoue, the utterly charming woman who's got our dear old brother's heart in twists."
Yuzu giggled. "Chad says she's really pretty. Like an actress!"
"He said you're smitten," Karin added, throwing a teasing arm around her brother's shoulder.
Ichigo tried his best to maintain his cool. It was true that he and Orihime spent many hours together talking liquor and New York and the books they were reading. He was comfortable around her, finding it totally unnecessary to keep his guard up when in her company. She was easy to talk to, even though he built many walls to keep her safe — to keep himself safe from this sudden vulnerability. All said and done, his was still a life of danger and he was afraid that there were some pains his heart may never recover from enough to feel joy.
Of course, he wouldn't disagree that Orihime was beautiful, but that was irrelevant, highly inappropriate and also starkly obvious to any person with a pair of eyes fully functioning.
"Did he," Ichigo said eventually, taking great care to sound unaffected. "I guess if he's got enough time to stop by for gossip then I haven't been working him hard enough."
"Oh, don't you punish him!" Yuzu scolded, while Karin laughed and hugged herself to him even harder.
"This is nice," she murmured, looking up at him with her young eyes, happy. "I feel like we never get to see you."
Ichigo's chest seized, his guilt melting away any protests he could have made at her statement.
"I'll take you out on New Year's Day," he promised. "Somewhere nice, upscale. We can get breakfast or something."
"Will any place even be open?" Karin asked dubiously.
"They'll open once they know it's me at the door," Ichigo said, half-bragging just to see the smiles on their little faces as they embraced each other excitedly.
"We'll put on our best clothes!" Yuzu said, determined. "And get ready to loosen up that wallet, dear brother, I have a lot of shopping I want to do."
"Yeah, yeah." Ichigo ruffled both their heads, earning indignant shouts and squeals of protest.
The matter of Orihime remained thankfully forgotten.
..
..
On New Year's Eve, Orihime spent most of the evening going over things with the other bar girls and bouncers, making sure everything was in stock and that everyone would have a ride home in the morning.
Most days, they closed at 5 in the morning and opened again at 11 midday, but on this night, Orihime suspected they would all be working overtime a little to clean up the mess. Spirits were already high. A live band was playing for most of the night, while Rangiku had agreed to make an appearance shortly before midnight as a favor to Orihime and Ichigo. Though she was well on her way to Hollywood, she never forgot an old friend and had promised to have a few drinks with them before she left.
Meanwhile, security was tightened with extra care, since Ichigo suspected the cops would be waiting for their guards to be down. He'd been vigilant ever since the commissioner had visited them all those weeks ago, and the bouncers had followed suit. Though the place was packed with a crowd that danced and flirted and flounced over the loud music, it was an organized chaos.
Ichigo spent most of the night leaning against the counter, keeping an eye on all the patrons as they danced their worries away. The one glass of whiskey one of the girls had poured out had been enough to sustain him.
Orihime herself hadn't had anything, too busy making sure the rowdy crowd wasn't picking fights with the band, that everyone had enough to drink, that she had greeted all the regulars. She and Ichigo orbited each other for most of the night, not doing anything more than smiling and waving at each other in greeting. He was with his usual crew, though sometimes his eyes would pass over her — giving her an inscrutable look. It was only brief, and any time her gaze caught his, he'd pointedly look away or straighten as if he hadn't been looking at all.
Did she look silly? She glanced down at herself. The dress she bought for the night hadn't been cheap — a velvety little romper that fell just above her knee. Tatsuki had picked it out for her, praising the way the dark green fabric brought out the warmth of her eyes. Most days, she wore loose pants or long skirts to work, but it was the last day of the year and she wanted to feel pretty. Most of the other girls had splurged on the occasion too, but where they had brought their boyfriends with them, Orihime was going to go home alone.
"So," Ryo said, when they all took a break to refill their shelves. "Who are we all going home with tonight?"
Orihime almost spat out the glass of water she was drinking.
"I've been speaking to Mr Asano on-and-off for the last few weeks," Michiru admitted shyly, oblivious to Orihime's peril.
"Mr Asano," Ryo repeated, with interest. "Is that the one who comes in here to speak to the older ladies?"
"That's Mr Kojima," Ryo said crossly. "Mr Asano would do no such thing."
"Oh, Michiru," Orihime said when she recovered from her choking, unable to control her laughter.
"What? Is he not clean?" Michiru touched her throat with worry, her eyes wide as if demanding answers.
"He's perfectly harmless, just very silly," Orihime said, soothing Michiru with a touch on her shoulder and sharing an amused look with Ryo. However, Michiru and Ryo were distracted towards a point behind Orihime's shoulder, making Orihime turn just in time to catch Ichigo approaching the bar. Her heartbeat surged despite herself.
"Mr Kurosaki! Hello!"
Ichigo gave her a small smile. "Miss Inoue. I hope you haven't been working too hard tonight."
"It's technically still a work night," Orihime reminded him, but her heart felt warm at his kind consideration.
Ryo cleared her throat emphatically.
"Of course, the same goes for you girls as well. Thank you for your hard work," Ichigo said, stammering only slightly as he nodded in their direction. "Anyway, Miss Inoue, if you're free for a moment, I'd like access to the cellar."
Orihime's face lit up in understanding. "Oh, of course." She reached through her satchel and drew out the keys, jiggling them at him as he followed her out of the bar.
"Well, I know who she's going home with tonight," remarked Ryo. Michiru giggled.
Meanwhile, Ichigo and Orihime lifted the trapdoor and headed downstairs, where the entire atmosphere became much quieter. The cellar was dark, musty, but Orihime flicked on a light and led him down. Even in the silence, they could hear the faint thumping of music and dancing coming from upstairs. The closer to midnight it got, the wilder things seemed to be getting.
Ichigo withdrew a key of his own from his pocket and headed to the safe. As soon as the lid popped open, he withdrew a few separate bundles of cash and handed them to Orihime. "Bonuses for your girls, like you asked."
Orihime beamed. "Oh! Thank you for considering it."
Ichigo shook his head. "It's good practice. Keeps them motivated. I was thinking of doing something like that for my guys, too." He slid the safe shut and returned the key to his pocket. Orihime tucked the money away and smiled.
"So. Any plans for the new year?"
"Just trying to stay afloat." Ichigo sighed. "You?"
"I'd love to read more, honestly," she admitted after a thought. "The book you dropped off last week — I'm nearly done with it."
Ichigo shook his head. "I still can't believe you'd never read Macbeth. It's Macbeth."
Orihime laughed, endeared by his boyish fondness for Shakespeare. Though he confessed often that he had no time to read, he was just as voracious a reader as she was, trying to be nonchalant as he fired off opinion after opinion. They could have stayed here all night talking instead of returning to the party and Orihime wouldn't regret a single thing, but then Ichigo said, "Come on, let's go back upstairs. It's nearly midnight."
Orihime nodded and they began heading up the stairs again. However, when they reached the top and he pushed up the trapdoor, it wouldn't budge. He frowned, trying again with both hands.
"Oh dear," Orihime remarked, staring up at the door with a frown. "I think someone's standing on it."
Ichigo tried banging his fist on the surface to no avail. And of course, there would be no point in yelling as the music overhead was too loud for them to be audible. "I guess we'll have to break the window, come on."
Orihime quickly followed him towards the lone window in the cellar but grabbed his elbow just as he was about to smash the glass. "Wait!"
Ichigo raised a brow.
"Do you hear that?!" she exclaimed, gesturing overhead. Sure enough, when he tilted his head, he could hear the entire bar upstairs counting down from 30, the crescendo of voices booming louder with every number.
All sense of urgency left Ichigo's body as he sagged. There was no way they'd make it back in time for the clock to strike midnight. "Jeez. I guess we'll miss it. Not that I feel bad about it or anything. Keigo's been yapping his face off for weeks about some girl he was going to kiss at midnight."
Orihime grinned. "Michiru. One of the bar girls."
"Seriously?"
She nodded, trying to hold in her laughter. "She hasn't been able to stop talking about it either."
Ichigo chuckled. "Little mercies, I guess. Last thing I wanted was to see Keigo sucking face."
This time she really did laugh, her gaze holding his as the 'dong!' overhead began getting louder and louder. Inside, her own heartbeat beat just as intensely as they stood opposite each other, waiting for the year to turn itself anew.
"I'm sorry for keeping you," she said softly. "You know, in case you had the same plans as Mr Asano…with someone special, I mean…" Her heart gave a dull ache at the thought.
"I was the one who called you down here," he pointed out, shaking his head. "If anything, I should be saying sorry to you."
"I don't have anyone like that," she confessed, a little shy, "so I don't think anyone upstairs would particularly miss me."
Ichigo snorted. "That's not what I hear."
"What do you mean?" Orihime asked curiously.
"It's not a secret that you have many admirers, Miss Inoue," Ichigo commented. "You're more likely to be missed than I am."
"That's not true," she whispered, but truthfully she felt faint and out of breath as she they stared at each other. "No one would miss me. No one would notice I was even gone." She swallowed at her own boldness, her heart seizing painfully when he came closer to her.
"My mistake," he replied slowly, but it was clear his eyes were swimming down from her eyes to her mouth.
Orihime reached for him, her touch gentle and trembling and tentative on his neck. Ichigo let her pull him closer, watching her as she watched him. For a moment, they said and did nothing. Ichigo cradled her face, holding her up from under her jaw—slowly, like he was giving her a chance to pull away. When she stayed still, stone still, he dragged his thumb down her bottom lip, feeling its full softness shoot through him like lightning. Color flooded Orihime's cheeks, but she did not resist, and then Ichigo kissed her, slow and hungry and full of feeling.
Somewhere above them, the clock struck midnight.