I know it's been quite a long while, all, and I know how much that sucks. Life honestly just gets in the way. It's been a rough few years. I frankly wrote most of this chapter a very long time ago, like probably almost a decade at this point, and have been just waiting to release it. I intend to finish this story, but writing is so time consuming that I probably won't be going into all the side-plots that I thought I was going to have time to explore and will likely abandon those. I may do one-off fanfics here and there if I feel up to it, but I just don't know. I would like to say thanks to the two beta readers that helped me with this - KraiAddax and BleedingFictioN. Also, shoujobees drew up some wonderful fanart of this fic, though I don't know if it's online anymore. You have no idea how happy I was about that. I think I might have cried. My dream when I started this fic was to write something so good, it would inspire fanart. Shoujobees, thank you so much again.
Ulquiorra placed one slow, hesitant foot across the dimensional rift, with Tessai following close on his heels. Once the two of them passed securely to the other side, the rift zipped shut behind them. It was about two o'clock on a hot afternoon in the Spanish province of Galicia, and months had passed since Ulquiorra traveled into the candy shop's borders.
They stood amidst an expanse of dense greens-tall trees gifting refreshing shade, carpets of grass that felt soft to the tread, and bushes manicured with stunning precision. Flecks of purple, yellow, and white punctuated the ground all about them while magenta-colored roses in an exquisite garden could be seen in the distance, peeking through a stone breezeway just beyond.
The purpose of their visit was the majestic pazo towering before them. Ulquiorra lifted his eyes to scrutinize the edifice, about four stories tall. Large arched windows lined with solid Spanish cedar exposed heavy, maroon drapes. Blankets of ivy lined the pazo's exterior, to the point where he could not identify the color of the mansion's outer walls in certain areas. Birds chirped excitedly about him, contrasting the silent, solemn aura of the manor.
As Ulquiorra's gaze continued to wander, Tessai glanced down at the small paper in his hand.
"According to my research, this pazo was once your home."
Many weeks had passed since the shopkeeper and the old man had exposed shocking revelations to him. Ulquiorra eventually agreed to assist with cultivating the spirit-plants that would soon substitute Orihime's efforts in curing his hunger. As soon as he acquiesced, the shopkeeper wasted little time baiting Ulquiorra with the knowledge that he may not have been birthed as a hollow through typical means.
He explained that "Ulquiorra" was actually a surname of an old human lineage in Spain. It was an unusual enough name that the story might be believed, but the Espada put it aside at first, thinking it false, ridiculous, and irrelevant—or more likely, part of some wayward scheme to coax him into assimilation among the humans. But the more he dwelled on it, the more it began to make sense.
"What is your first memory of Hueco Mundo?" the shopkeeper asked one afternoon.
The question seemed to skewer Ulquiorra as a blazing iron. He had always known that he bore no memories of anything before he awakened in the pit. He remembered nothing of anything prior to the Hogyoku. Nothing before Aizen. He'd long accepted this, never questioned it. He was a hollow, an Espada. A bit unusual in the recollection of his memories compared to others, but among them nonetheless.
"There is a bow to your shoulders, Ulquiorra. You've never wondered why?" This question came from the old man.
Another hot iron. It was this inquiry in particular, stated so plainly, that gnawed at him. These seeds, small and unassuming, burrowed their way deep in his brain. They grew day and night under a baking sun, followed by waxing and waning moons. They stretched their fingers like tree limbs, spreading, roots giving birth to new roots—new questions taking hold—until one day he could ignore it no longer.
"I wish to know what you've discovered," was all he said upon startling the two of them in the laboratory one night. The catwoman stood among them, giving him a sidelong glance–-a mix of pity and disdain.
"Well. It seems curiosity has gotten the better of our roommate," said Kisuke. "You should be aware, though, that there's no going back once you know. Are you prepared for that?"
Ulquiorra scoffed. Whatever the truth was, it would have little effect on him, if any.
Thus it was that his own careless curiosity led him to Spain, to the ancient building looming before him. He stared dumbly at the pazo that began to conjure a strange, unexpected familiarity within him. 'Why should this knowledge be useful to me?' He asked himself for what felt like the hundredth time. 'It's highly unlikely to be true.' But he took a step forward nonetheless.
Fortunately for Ulquiorra, neither the shopkeeper nor the catwoman joined them. Tessai knew the language, and the other two had other matters to attend to. Good. The fewer the better. They made sure to cut off any escape he might have planned by locking some contraption around his neck–-a collar of some sort. It not only concealed his pitifully low reiatsu levels from other spirit beings, but it functioned as a leash that bound him to the old man. It would have been far more efficient to allow him to review their findings from the comfort of the lab, but the shopkeeper insisted on an in-person visit. This explained all of the irksome Spanish shows that captivated the shop as of was polishing up for this very visit, with Ulquiorra blissfully ignorant of the reasons until recently.
"I was a little surprised to learn that you understand Spanish," Tessai remarked, taking another step towards the pazo. "Convenient, for our purposes."
"It is my mother tongue," Ulquiorra revealed. Another irregularity Ulquiorra had never questioned. Once Aizen applied the powers of the Hogyoku, he ordered him to learn other languages, particularly Japanese. Learning other forms of communication also assisted in reconnaissance across the globe for Aizen's purposes. Ulquiorra mentioned none of these things to Tessai.
Ulquiorra advanced several more steps along the grass. Following him, Tessai eyed the manor, remarking, "Didn't expect you to have been so wealthy. The pictures don't do this place justice."
Suddenly, the entrance to the manor opened. A man about the age of thirty emerged, a wide grin stretched across his face. He seemed to be excited to see Tessai. When he drew a bit closer, he called out in a Castilian dialect, "Bienvenido al Pazo de Ulquiorra!"
The man, who was beginning to look eerily familiar, addressed Tessai in the singular. Tessai donned a gigai, but the man naturally could not see Ulquiorra, as the hollow remained in spirit form. As the man approached, Tessai nodded and called out in accented Spanish, "Thank you very much. We—er, I was told I couldn't leave Galicia without seeing this pazo. They told me it's one of the few houses around here that still belongs to the original lineage."
"That would be correct!" called out the man, with a pep to his step.
As he drew even closer to them, Ulquiorra nearly held his breath. This man looked very much…like himself. His eyes were more of a hazel color, unlike Ulquiorra's pale green. His face was a bit more squared, his nose more rounded, and his hair was brown, not black. But the similarity was striking. As Tessai made small talk with the man, who was now introducing himself as Pascual, Ulquiorra trod around him, looking him up and down, taking note of their similarities. He and Pascual were about the same height, but the human stood straight and tall with no bow to his shoulders.
Pascual explained that the pazo was a recent project of his, spanning several years. It had been abandoned to the state for a long while because of tales of hauntings and a sordid past. In recent years, the local government was desperate for money due to the global recession and put the manor on the market. Pascual had been successful enough in his computer business that he had the funds to purchase and restore the manor.
"This pazo is part of my family history, as you have surmised," he explained. "I used to visit it often as a boy. The building and grounds you see today are nothing like what it was when I bought it—abandoned. Like trash. I swore to myself, if I ever got successful enough, I would buy this place and return it to its former glory. And I am so glad I did. It is so rich with history. Some of it is sad, but I love that I've been able to reconnect with some of my family roots." He smiled and scrutinized the edifice much in the same way Ulquiorra had just done.
"How old is it?" asked Tessai.
"It was built in the mid-1800s. Either 1862 or 1863. The man who built it had a very successful enterprise. They say people came from miles around just to buy his products."
"What sort of enterprise?" Ulquiorra asked.
"What sort of enterprise?" Tessai repeated.
"He was a metalsmith," Pascual emphasized with a smile and a nod. "And a talented one at that, as you can see by the fruit of his labor. He made all sorts of things. Firearms, swords, daggers…his specialty, though a bit old fashioned at the time, was lances."
Ulquiorra's ears perked.
"I was lucky enough to find some in the ruins of the home, actually. In a secret passageway! The house is full of odd little surprises like that. The weapons are no longer here, though. I had to hand them over to the state. Part of the deal." There was a touch of annoyance in his voice at that. "But they were restored and sent to a museum 30 kilometers away from here. If you have time before you leave the region, you might want to see them."
"I might do that," Tessai answered.
"I wish to see the inside of the home," Ulquiorra said, already walking towards the pazo.
"Is there any way I can get a tour of your exquisite manor?" Tessai asked.
"Absolutely!" Pascual exclaimed. "I personally give tours whenever I am available to do so. Another part of the agreement is that a section of the grounds must be available to the public. You're lucky you came on a slow day. With the recession dampening tourism, I haven't been giving as many tours as I would have imagined. People also tend to stay away when it's hot like this," he said, pulling at the collar of his shirt.
Ulquiorra continued observing his surroundings as he walked towards the home. There was something vaguely familiar about it all, but it was like a memory from a dream. A dream he was not particularly interested in remembering. As they walked into the foyer, the smell of cedar saturated his nostrils. Strangely, he found the scent amenable. He noted the symmetry of architecture as he observed the interior. Pascual had taken great efforts to preserve the integrity of the establishment. He observed the arches above him as Pascual continued expounding on the history of the manor.
"Señor Ulquiorra personally designed the pazo's architecture. Records show that he was very involved in not only the building developments, but also in the assembly of materials used to build the house. He was a very meticulous man, and somewhat of a documentarian. He was also highly invested in seeing the project completed to his satisfaction as it was meant to be a wedding gift to his bride."
"He had a wife?" Tessai choked out.
Ulquiorra spun around to face Pascual, his eyes wide.
"Yes…though she died giving birth."
"Birth?! He had a child?"
Ulquiorra went very still.
"Children. The twins—two girls. Though they were tragically lost in the disappearance."
"Disappearance?"
"Yes. No one really knows what happened. It remains a mystery to this day. He lost them both one night, in addition to his eye."
"Are you a descendant of his…?"
"Yes! Señor Ulquiorra was my great, great, great uncle."
Swelling with relief that this was not a grandson of some sort, the coincidence in their appearances dawned on Ulquiorra at last. He stared at the oblivious man as he went on explaining the tragedy that had befallen Pazo de Ulquiorra centuries before.
Ulquiorra recalled absolutely nothing of the ordeal.
"It is said that there was an unknown intruder in his home. Many suspected that it was a rival metalsmith, but there was no evidence pointing to anything like that. Señor Ulquiorra himself spoke of a shadow he was forced to fight. The reports, written in his own hand, tell of an unusual intruder who was very difficult to defeat. He didn't understand the enemy's intentions and described it as a ghost or shadow of some kind. He failed to protect his daughters and disappeared himself a week later. The tragedy, and the unsolved mystery, rocked the city for years."
"I wish to see these reports," Ulquiorra stated.
"Is there any way I can read the reports?" Tessai asked Pascual.
"His journal entries have been donated to that same museum. Part of the deal." He rolled his eyes.
"I wish to read those reports at once," Ulquiorra stated, his eyes now fixed on Tessai. "Let us travel to the museum through the rift."
"Let's finish the tour first. There may yet be more to learn," Tessai addressed Ulquiorra in Japanese.
"Excuse me?" Pascual asked.
"Perdon, I meant to say it in Spanish. Please, let us continue the tour."
"Would you like to see the portraits?"
"Portraits?" Ulquiorra asked.
"Yes!" Tessai answered with a cutting grin. "I would very much enjoy seeing the portraits. Who are they of?"
"Oh, the immediate family, some ancestors, a couple descendants. Señor Ulquiorra was a fan of keeping records. He viewed the portraits as another method of documentation," Pascual chuckled, shaking his head.
Pascual continued elaborating on little details about the house as they meandered through the corridors. He spoke of various knickknacks around the manor that were new, others preserved, others destroyed. Walking through the household elicited odd sensations for Ulquiorra. A mix of uncertainty and very distant familiarity. Perhaps he felt anxiety? Odd.
It was pointless to dwell on any of it. But something had pulled him to travel through the dimensional rift of his own volition. The walls that he had allegedly crafted—no wonder he found he liked them—and the man who was leading them to another part of a house, a man that he felt uncharacteristically drawn to, were all playing on his mind.
They approached a large, amber-tinted door. The handles were bronze, with subtle decorative touches giving it an antique aesthetic.
"This is the portrait room," Pascual muttered, pulling out a skeleton key.
The door opened into a well-lit room with numerous paintings lining the walls, about thirty in all. The same maroon curtains Ulquiorra had noticed from the outside bordered each window. A few intricately carved bookshelves and end tables dotted the walls, but the most intriguing sight of all was the full-length, bronze statue standing in the center of the room.
It was the spitting image of Ulquiorra.
Tessai gave a low whistle as he gazed at the exquisite work of art before them. "Kisuke was right," he murmured in Japanese.
Pascual chuckled, "I can guess what you're saying. A true work of art. It was crafted by a local artist after Señor Ulquiorra disappeared."
Ulquiorra hardly heard the rest of the conversation. He was utterly drawn in by the image of himself in the middle of the room. The statue stood proud and tall, similar to Pascual. The bronze figure had one hand in his pocket and the other holding a lance that extended from the ground to several feet above its head. Engraved at the foot of the platform was an inscription:
In memory of Fidel Sergio Gerardo Ulquiorra, dutiful father and husband, and loyal servant to the king of Spain. Talented metalsmith, fair leader of the household, and producer of many useful goods. Though the mystery that befell Pazo de Ulquiorra may never be solved, Señor Ulquiorra will always be remembered.
"Was this commissioned?" Tessai asked, moving to stand beside Ulquiorra.
"No. Interestingly, though Señor Ulquiorra wasn't particularly social, he did believe in setting examples, hard work, efficiency, and things of that nature. He had a way of acknowledging people's skills and sometimes, drawing out their talents. People would sometimes come to him looking for work. This artist was one of those people. He built this in memory of the man as a mark of respect."
"Fascinating," Tessai remarked, giving Ulquiorra a subtle glance. "But…why those marks on the sides of his face? Why the scarring?" Tessai asked.
"Ah. He received those when he fought the shadow. As I mentioned earlier, in his journals he wrote about what he described to be a 'ghost' that infiltrated the manor one night. It was what killed his two daughters. He lost an eye during the fight—as you can see by the eyepatch on the statue—and marked two scars on Señor Ulquiorra's face."
One for each death, perhaps. Ulquiorra mulled it over as he stared at the scars that mimicked his own face.
"He loved his children very much, and his children adored him. You could tell by the way he spoke of them in his writings."
Ulquiorra turned to Pascual. His words were like a foreign language to him—impossible to understand.
"And what of his wife?" Tessai asked.
"Well…I have reason to believe he wasn't particularly fond of her, though I can't really be certain as he rarely mentioned her in his writings. It was a marriage of convenience from a city in…Ireland, I believe, if I recall correctly. I can only assume they hardly knew each other, and had little time to do so. As I mentioned, she died from childbirth. Only about a year after they'd married."
"How tragic," Tessai remarked, his voice a low murmur.
"Indeed. She was never painted. But the girls were." Pascual pointed to a painting across the room.
Ulquiorra's eyes shot over to follow Pascual's finger.
He could hardly believe his eyes. The man in the portrait, if he was to even believe it was his former self, was smiling. It was a subtle grin that showed no teeth, but it was genuine. The Ulquiorra in the painting had a look that exuded pride. He stood with either hand placed on his daughters' shoulders. One of the girls had a big grin plastered on her face while the other had a far more serious look like her father. Apart from that, the girls were identical, right down to their frilly pink dresses and shiny black shoes. Both had brown hair—lighter than their father's—and an eye color similar to Señor Ulquiorra—a more earthly shade of green.
Ulquiorra stared at the portrait for a long while. Then he moved on to look at the other paintings. He stayed in the room by himself, learning about the history of the Ulquiorra lineage. Tessai and Pascual left to go tour the rest of the house, but Ulquiorra chose to stay, memorizing every detail of every painting to document everything in his mind. He returned to the portrait of Señor Ulquiorra and his daughters a number of times, but it was not until his third visit to the painting that he noticed it had been named.
"Las dos luces – Jusseth y Isabella."
The two lights, he translated.
"Jusseth and Isabella."
Their names and faces rang over and over again in his mind. Still, he could not bring himself to feel.
.oOo.
"Do you still want to see the reports?" Tessai asked after bidding his adios to Pascual. Ulquiorra stared after the man as he walked back into his small palace.
"Another time."
"As you wish." Tessai paused. "I learned some interesting details about your past, which leads me to consider some possibilities." When Ulquiorra didn't answer, he continued, "The shadow that came upon the manor…it may have been a hollow. It may even have been Aizen himself. No one but you could see it. Indeed, they would have thought he was mad if it weren't for the scarring and the deaths of those poor little girls."
"Jusseth and Isabella," Ulquiorra mechanically added.
"Mmm. I don't know why the girls had to suffer, but it's clear you were the true goal since you were eventually taken. My estimation is someone might have lured you to Hueco Mundo, perhaps with the promise of finding the girls, in order to turn you into an arrancar. Perhaps you were some kind of test to see if the Hogyoku would succeed. You had all the appropriate qualities. Good fighting skills." Tessai began counting each trait on his fingers. "Very loyal, apparently, to the king. Methodical. A talented metalsmith who liked to document and learn. It seems those things did not change after the powers were applied. I presume the Hogyoku would have erased your memories and left whatever was useful for Aizen."
"That is consistent with what I was told would happen to the woman, should she have gone through with the transformation." Saying this aloud gave Ulquiorra a jarring pause. He never considered he was the prototype of Orihime's fate.
"Inoue-san? Well, I guess we know for sure what would have happened to her if Kurosaki-san would not have arrived in time to save her."
Ulquiorra's throat bobbed. He felt as though he'd swallowed a rock the size of a fist.
From Wiki: "A pazo is a type of Galician traditional house. Similar to a manor house, pazos are usually located in the countryside, as former residences of important people in the community..."
Before you throw darts at me for the wife and kid thing - I had honestly intended to do a one-off reincarnation Ulquihime fic with Orihime as the bride, but to do it well, I'd have to do a lot of historical research on historical Spain and Ireland that I don't have time for anymore. Doing research for this small chapter consumed a lot of time, and I am not sure if it's entirely correct. I'm hardcore Ulquihime, always will be.