Updated: 21st June 2019 (mainly cosmetic changes, and a lil' bit more interactions between Rukia and Ulquiorra)

Hi there!

First of all, I'd like to say thanks to all those wonderful people who have reviewed!

phoenix-aerith, yume girl 91, Tsunayoshi, miraSugoi, annikacan, gangsterforever, Kita of Nature, Sweet Scrifice, SoraXNamine, CharismaHarmony, Paper Bullet (Ami), sadbird, Teenager, Yuki Miyazawa, Anjiska, Red Princess, shootlumos

Thank you! You're the best of the best!

And yes, this means I've finished yet another chapter, yay! Though it isn't as long as a couple of previous ones… And honestly I don't know what to think about it…

Well, read for yourselves!

朝霧 -Asagiri-

The Frozen Whisper
by Asagiri

Chapter 8
Nuisance

After closing the door, Rukia turned around and leaned against it, its' cool surface finally erased the last vestiges of the Espada's warmth on her back. He shouldn't have warm, almost protective hands – they should be cold and repulsive. She shivered involuntarily. Regardless, she was genuinely, though most reluctantly, thankful to him. Now that she'd voiced it, she could move on to hating him again.

What kept bothering her, though, were her own conforming words during the dinner. Even now she felt like throwing up. 'Shameful' wouldn't even start to describe just how she felt about herself. She hid her face in her hands, though her shame couldn't be more blatant.

Swallowing self-loathing, Rukia looked at the room warily, half-expecting something to jump on her or just to lurk in the corner, observing her, waiting. She was dealing with Ichimaru after all. Expect the unexpected. He himself could be hiding in the wardrobe ready to scare the living daylights out of her, for all she knew.

Just thinking about all that made her feel uneasy. She exhaled deeply few times to calm her nerves.

As much as she was tired from all the acting she had done during the dinner and her struggling to keep her composure, she needed to make sure the room was safe, otherwise she wouldn't be able to sleep a wink. Getting her wits about her, she rolled her sleeves up and proceeded to search the room for signs of Ichimaru's scheme.

Rukia started off with checking her surroundings for any traces of reiatsu. The chances he would have actually left such an easy clue were slim, but it was a quick check, so she could as well as do it.

Nothing.

Just as she thought – he wouldn't make it easy for her. There were traces of only the Espada's and her own reiatsu. It didn't necessarily mean anything, but still brought her a bit of relief.

Curiously enough, she could sense the Espada not far away from her room and next to him, Nnoitra.

She frowned, but refrained from making any guesses. It would make her think about that man, and she was already sick to the stomach. No need to upset herself more than necessary. Besides, she had no time to waste, too. Ichimaru was a more imminent danger. One nuisance at a time was more than enough – her sanity was at stake here.

Rukia eyed the room, and decided that her next step was the bathroom. It was smaller, so there was less to cover. If it turned out to be safe, and she didn't finish searching the room, she could always sleep in the bathtub. It wouldn't be comfortable, but at least it was a back-up plan of sorts.

She put the apple on the desk and entered the bathroom. Her own suspicious eyes stared at her closely. She approached the mirror, looking for signs of tampering. She checked it from every angle and tapped on its surface a number of times, however it didn't look like the one-way mirror she feared it could be. She repeated the process on the mirror above the sink.

Nothing.

She searched the cabinet, and the laundry basket; she shook the towels, and looked carefully around the bathtub, the sink and the toilet (she even lifted up the cistern's lid and peered inside!). For a brief moment she considered pouring out every cosmetic she got there, but thought better of it, only opting for shaking the containers and putting them against the light in case they contained something besides the liquid.

Still, she found nothing.

She even knocked on every single tile in the bathroom, listening for the slightest differences in the sound they made.

Nothing.

When Rukia realised she had checked everything in the bathroom and found nothing, she felt a mix of relief and disappointment. Perhaps Ichimaru wasn't such a pervert she had him for…?

On her way back to the room she checked the door and its frame, just to be safe, but the result was the same – nothing.

The clock showed almost ten o'clock in the evening, and there still was a whole room to check. Groaning, Rukia lay down on the bed and stretched, allowing herself a moment of rest. She was getting hungry, too. Another unhappy groan escaped her throat – sadly there were hours until breakfast!

Then she remembered the apple. She briskly got up, grabbed it from the desk, and sitting comfortably in one of the armchairs (the one that the Espada never sat in), she eagerly bit into the fruit. It tasted wonderfully! Juicy, crisp and sweet with a hint of sour – a perfect apple. The Espada knew how to pick one, it seemed. She would give him that, though she would have never ever taken him for being even remotely thoughtful.

Out of nowhere the memory of his hand on the small of her back resurfaced and she could feel the warmth and pressure again. Her mood fell, so she quickly finished the apple and got back to work to get rid of this disturbing sensation, and – more importantly – Ichimaru's shenanigans, too.

On his way back to his chambers, Ulquiorra noticed that Nnoitra still lingered in the same spot. He was waiting for something. Or someone. It would be best to have a talk with him before he got any ideas, and if he already had any – nip them in the bud before he got out of control.

So he turned the corner and made his way towards his degenerated associate. Soon his lanky silhouette came into view, casually leaning against the wall. His teeth barred in an unpleasant grin confirmed that he was indeed waiting for someone, and that someone was him.

"What do you want?" Ulquiorra asked.

"Well…" A suggestive glint appeared in his eyes, and he licked his lips.

"What do you want, Nnoitra?" he repeated, pressing for a straightforward answer. He didn't want to play any guessing games with him, he didn't want to delve into a madman's head, to think his thoughts. The mere idea repulsed him.

"I think you have quite a good idea," the lanky Arrancar replied. "Don't you, Ulquiorra?"

"I'm afraid, you're wrong, Nnoitra," he retorted. He didn't like the way he just pronounced his name. It implicated that he, of all the people, was thinking similarly.

"Oh, come on, Ulquiorra," Nnoitra snorted. "We're fuckin' men, you can't blame anyone for our desires."

"Don't you lower me to your level," Ulquiorra said firmly, sending him a look full of contempt and repugnance. He actually felt insulted. "And I assure you, Nnoitra, you know nothing of my desires,"

To his distaste, his words seemed to spark an interest in the degenerated Arrancar, "Oh, do tell."

"They're none of your business," he replied sternly, somehow unable to contain the threatening tone in his voice.

"You've touched her, haven't you? That chick must feel fuckin' great, I bet… Soft and warm… Though she doesn't have such fuckin' humongous knockers as the previous one… The old Pet-sama sure was fuckin' hot."

Ulquiorra listened to all those abysmal words that formed even more abysmal sentences, waiting for the point, however he was slowly beginning to lose his patience.

"But the new chick looks like she has some fiery temperament… I can tell from her smell, fuck me… Sweet with fear she's trying to hide, pretending to be brave. I fuckin' love it when they do that! They fight back, but when you finally break them, their despair is fuckin' delicious." Nnoitra grinned like a mad man and again licked his lips. "I almost lost it just now. If you haven't interfered I'd have fuckin' smashed her into the wall and—"

"Get to the point," Ulquiorra cut in. He had heard more than he wanted to, there was no need to expose his mind to moral pollution longer than necessary.

"I want her."

Words that he had expected and somewhat worried to hear. "You can't have her."

"You stingy dickhead…" Nnoitra snarled at him angrily, hitting the wall in a gesture of frustration, "I bet you yourself have fun with her all the time! Why is it that Aizen gives only you the possibility to let off some fuckin' steam? That's fuckin' unfair!"

Ulquiorra could name few good reasons why he, not Nnoitra, was given the custody of the Shinigami. For example, there was the certainty that she wouldn't be harmed in any way. As for the degenerate, his mind was filled with lust for women and blood which didn't mix too well. Most certainly not for the women.

Knowing, however, that his associate wouldn't understand a reasonable explanation, he simply denied the allegations, "I wouldn't sink as low as to do anything you're trying to imply, Nnoitra."

It seemed, however, that his associate either didn't hear him or didn't care, because he continued his rant. "Why only you get some fuckin' toys? Everyone want to have some. Fuck, even that old fart, Barragan."

Ulquiorra most definitely didn't want to hear that. This conversation was slowly soiling his mind.

"C'mon, Ulquiorra," the lanky Arrancar whined. "Why won't you share?"

"Because there's nothing to share," he said firmly, so there would be no doubt that his statement was definitive. Now that Nnoitra's objective was clear, he had to act. Leaving this degenerate to his own devices could easily end in his plan's failure.

"I can do it the way there won't be any visible marks left," he persisted, now trying to sound pleasant.

"Drop it, she's not to be harmed in any way," Ulquiorra retorted. Even though he was well aware that Nnoitra couldn't careless, he emphasised, "Aizen-sama's orders."

"So you'll fuckin' keep her only to yourself?" the lanky Arrancar bristled again.

"I'll keep her from someone like you." He disliked repeating himself, but his associate wasn't too focused a man, so he added, "She's not to be harmed."

A mocking smirk appeared on Nnoitra's face. "You're a fuckin' softie, eh? Who would have thought… I always had you for someone who likes some rough fuckin' action."

Ulquiorra raised his eyebrows in disbelief at his words. How could this degenerated soul even think he operated on the same low levels of basic yet corrupt instincts as him? "You're just sick, Nnoitra."

For some reason his words only made Nnoitra's smile grow wider. "Maybe. Or maybe you just never gave it a go."

"Nnoitra, get your mind, if you have any, out of the gutter," he was slowly losing his cool but still tried to be as composed as ever while he explained, "The only purpose for this Shinigami to be here is to lure out Orihime Inoue and make her return to Las Noches to serve Aizen-sama. What will happen with her after her purpose is fulfilled, I don't know. That's for Aizen-sama to decide. Until then, however, no-one's there to touch her. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, yeah," the lanky Arrancar nodded, waving his hand dismissively. Then that perverted glint in his slightly narrowed eyes shone brighter, "So you're not interested in her?"

"Why would I?" Why was he assuming so many things about him? Wrongly, too. "She's a Shinigami."

Nnoitra shrugged. "So? Fuckin' good reason to have fun with her, if you ask me…"

Ulquiorra counted in his mind to ten, searching inwardly for more patience. "Either way, I don't care about her."

The lanky Arrancar's lips twisted into a lecherous smile. "So afterwards, I can have her?"

"That'll be for Aizen-sama to decide," he replied, repeating himself. Again.

"It's drivin' me fuckin' crazy," Nnoitra groaned.

"In the meantime, don't try getting any near her," Ulquiorra said as a way of parting. He felt he was done here, or at least this was the extent he was able to achieve with words only. It should be enough, at least for a short while – until Nnoitra stopped being able to contain his urges. He'll have to keep an eye on him, so he would know when to act more forcefully.

"Oh, and if I do what the fuck will you do, eh, Ulquiorra?" Nnoitra asked, narrowing his eyes wickedly.

Ulquiorra was apparently dealing with an idiot that didn't understand anything at all, however reasonably it was laid out. Truly a lost case. He ignored him and left for his room. He felt a strong urge to take a cleansing shower.

"Yeah, fuck you too, Ulquiorra!"

He might not like the Shinigami, but he would feel bad for her if she ended up in Nnoitra's claws. If there was a chance for such turn of events, perhaps he could consider doing her a favour and kill her then and there.

Rukia scanned the room, and decided to start with its left side. She examined the desk from every possible angle and pulled out every single drawer, checking for double bottoms or other contraptions. Then, without a second thought, she leafed through the paper sheet by sheet. There were four hundred and eighty sheets in total. She took all pencils and crayons and looked at each carefully, and tested them, scribbling random words or shapes.

Nothing.

She ran her hand on all surfaces of the chair, and she did the same with the two armchairs. While examining the one closer the door, traces of the Espada's reiatsu pricked her fingertips, but she ignored the sensation. Afterwards she shook the vermillion rug, and then getting down to her knees, she felt it and brushed it, feeling for any foreign object.

Nothing.

Next was the wardrobe. She could imagine Ichimaru hiding in there, waiting… With her heart beating faster in apprehension, she approached it, and to be over and done with it as quickly as possible, she sharply pulled the doors—!

Nothing but clothes.

Rukia exhaled deeply in relief. At least it was something. She still went through all the clothes, but the result was the same.

Nothing.

It was the bed's turn now. She took off the bedspread and shook it with a thought that maybe there was something attached to it. She repeated the process with pillows and quilt, going as far as stripping them off the bed linen.

Nothing.

After making the bed anew, Rukia approached the nightstand and looked behind it and inside its small drawer. Then she closely peered at and sniffed water in the jug, but there wasn't anything out of ordinary about it. She even dared to put her finger in it and taste it.

Nothing.

No nothing!

Absolutely freaking nothing!

Neither in the room nor in the bathroom. She was so sure she would find something, anything that was strange or out of place, or any sort of suspicious, but to no avail. Everything seemed… normal.

Rukia scanned the room once again, wondering if she had missed any spot or object. But no, she had searched everywhere! There was no doubt about that!

Suddenly something under the desk caught her eye. With her guard on she approached it warily and, gulping, closely looked at it. A breath she didn't know she was holding escaped her lungs. It was just a pencil! A frigging pencil in the shadow of the desk. It must have fallen down when she was checking the area.

Argh, she was getting paranoid!

"Damn you, Ichimaru!" she hissed out loud.

With a heavy sigh she lied on the bed. Had he really done nothing in or with the room? But then why would he tell her that he had picked it out for her? That would be plainly weird! It was the fox himself after all! He had to have some objective in this. He just had to…

A thought crossed her mind that perhaps all of this was his objective in the first place – to work her up enough to make her stupidly search the room and then laugh at her expense—

Wait…! she realised there was one more spot she hadn't checked yet. With uneasiness she kneeled on the floor and looked under the bed. With relief she noted that no Ichimaru was hiding there, though there wasn't much space, and most of it was engulfed in shadows. Grabbing the nightstand lamp, she placed it on the floor, so it would cast some light.

At this point she could as well as just crawl underneath and look and feel for anything suspicious. Not that she had any other choice… If she didn't do that she wouldn't feel safe enough to fall asleep.

At the moment Ulquiorra wanted nothing more but to take a shower. Being in the presence of Nnoitra, hearing his sick blather and seeing his elation at his own fantasies made him feel filthy. So with the salutary perspective of cleansing shower, he headed to his chambers, looking forward to peace and solace for his mind and body.

In the room he removed Murciélago from behind the sash on his hips and put it on his bed. Then undressing, he went straight to the bathroom and under the shower, welcoming tepid water flowing onto his body, soothing his senses.

He didn't want to remember the conversation with Nnoitra, but it made him aware of dangers that might lie in wait for the Shinigami. His duty was to keep her safe, at least until Orihime Inoue returned to Las Noches. Whatever happened to her afterwards was of no concern to him. But for now he had to protect her, mainly from that sick bastard, it seemed. Who knew, however, how many other Las Noches residents wouldn't want to treat themselves to a morsel of a Shinigami…

Still, it was Nnoitra who was the main concern, and he wasn't to be taken lightly. With mad determination he took whatever he craved for; he wouldn't hesitate over anything, if it allowed him to fulfil his desires. In that aspect, out of all Espadas, he resembled a Hollow the most. Ulquiorra would have to be cautious, anticipating his intentions and movements. It wasn't a question of 'if', but of 'when' he would make a move to snatch the Shinigami for himself.

On the other hand, Ulquiorra predicted his duty wouldn't take much longer. Just a couple more days, two weeks at most, if there were any complications.

Orihime Inoue most probably had already realised that Rukia Kuchiki was alive. And knowing her simple and foolish nature, she would blame herself for her friend's misfortune. That blame and her innate need to save everyone and everything would compel her to rush back to Las Noches in order to help her friend. Orihime Inoue was the only one who could save her, the only one that had to save her, because if it hadn't been for her, Rukia Kuchiki would have been safe and sound in Soul Society. She had to make amends, but she wouldn't want anyone else to get hurt because of her, not again, so she would come alone, hoping that she would be able to make a trade with them by offering herself in exchange for Rukia Kuchiki.

And would she be disappointed. After all there would be no point in exchange if both women were on their mercy.

Friendship would be their fall.

It would never cease to amaze him how Humans and Shinigamis – and even some Hollows, too – could rely on something that was a mere concept, if not less. It made no sense to him. A bond or something absurd like this… With nothing concrete, nothing palpable to prove that it was, indeed, real. What purpose did it have? None. It was just a delusion that smothered and weakened, as there were always others to be taken into consideration, regardless of them being useful or burdensome – in the end they all became a ball and chain.

Ulquiorra turned off the taps and stepped out of the shower, reaching for a towel. After drying himself with it, he wrapped it around his waist and entered the room. At once cold air swept over his naked body, causing goose bumps to appear on his skin. Frowning at this sudden temperature drop, he looked around for its cause.

Eventually his eyes landed on the broken zanpakutō that was on the table. Curiously he approached it… her — he remembered the Shinigami using a female pronoun when referring to her weapon. The previously separated parts were now connected with a thin layer of ice – the sword was healing herself.

Quite interesting, he mused and gently picked her up. The ice withstood it, keeping the blade from shattering again. He noted that the hilt was burningly cold, making his hand instantly turn numb. After looking closely at her, he had to admit she was a good zanpakutō, sharp and well-cared-for. She emitted an aura of quiet confidence and resolution, yet there was something timidly gentle about her, elegant even. Not so different from her master.

Now that she was in one piece, Ulquiorra carefully sheathed her and put back on the table.

It was a curious thing for the sword to suddenly affect the surroundings to this extent. He assumed that before she must have been too focused on joining the broken pieces, but now that she was complete, she could be more expressive, channelling her master's emotions. This could become useful, showing him the state of Shinigami's mind. Nnoitra relished in his pleasures, so if she was in danger, her zanpakutō would communicate it and he would be able to make it in time, before she suffered any serious damage.

This time it wasn't his degenerated associate that caused this temperature drop, though. Nnoitra's reiatsu was somewhere in his wing of the castle. Actually, apart from the Shinigami's reiatsu, he couldn't sense anyone in the vicinity.

So he decided to ignore it. Putting on his nightwear, he grabbed a book and sat in the sofa to continue reading it.

It wasn't really cold, he didn't mind the current temperature at all, but it was definitely different from the usual and that bothered him a little. When it didn't look like it would be going back to normal any time soon, Ulquiorra decided to check up on the Shinigami. Something clearly must have upset her, too, otherwise her zanpakutō wouldn't have manifested herself like this.

He changed and left for her room. The stroll didn't take him more than ten minutes.

Light was sweeping from under the door and sounds could be heard – not loud, but of movement. She clearly wasn't asleep, even though it was well past midnight. On his way here he thought that perhaps she was having a nightmare, but clearly it wasn't that. What was she doing up so late in the night?

He listened some more, when he heard her speak. He was pretty sure she said 'Ichimaru' and some profanities.

It couldn't be… Ulquiorra thought with a frown, though final realisation amused him. Was she… searching the room? Did she really think that Ichimaru had done something with it?

He thought she had more sense than that.

For a moment there he considered letting her be, but before he knew it, he was knocking on the door and entering her room. The most bizarre sight unfolded before his eyes. A table lamp was on the floor, tipped over, so it could cast some light underneath the bed. And there were also feet sticking out from under the bed, and muffled grumbles could be heard – curses directed at Ichimaru, he guessed.

"You won't find anything there, Shinigami," he told her. In response he received a thud of what he was pretty sure was her head hitting the bed, and a curse, this time clearly audible: "Shit."

"Or anywhere else, really," he added.

With raised eyebrows Ulquiorra watched as she somehow wiggled herself from under the bed and looked at him, somehow wildly. Her overall appearance was wild, with her clothes and hair in total dishevelment.

"You don't know that," the Shinigami pointed out defensively.

"I don't know for sure," he admitted, "But what would Ichimaru do with this room in the first place? Or anyone else, for that matter?"

"That's what I want to find out."

Ulquiorra looked at her closely, and she indeed was being serious. Well… she was searching the room to begin with, so that should have been enough to confirm it… "Don't be ridiculous, Shinigami. You're wasting your time and effort. You just played right into his hands, and he didn't even have to do anything."

She still didn't looked convinced, so he asked, "Why would he do anything anyway? Think about it logically."

"Because he's vile," the Shinigami said slowly, though there might have been hints of hesitation to her voice.

He assumed that now it was her stubbornness talking through her, refusing to admit that she not only was doing something pointless, but was caught doing that.

"Yes," Ulquiorra agreed, and continued to make his point, "But if he were to achieve more or less the same result with or without any action, do you think he'd take an action? I think not. This way he could use the saved time to pester someone else."

She opened her mouth to say something, but quickly closed it. With no arguments, she huffed and changed the subject, "And why are you here, anyway?"

He could tell she was embarrassed by the situation, hence her testy response. He was also pretty sure the thought that Ichimaru hadn't done anything and her efforts were pointless had crossed her mind, but thinking it and hearing it from someone else were something different.

The Shinigami crossed her arms in front of her chest, still trying to change the focus of this conversation to him, "If you're telling me this only now, why bother coming here in the middle of the night and telling me at all?"

"I thought you had more common sense than that, but it looks like Ichimaru got you good," Ulquiorra obliged, answering her questions. "And your reiatsu seemed disturbed, so I came to check on you, just in case."

He decided to spare her information that Nnoitra wanted her. It was enough she was agitated by Ichimaru already, no use making her worry about the other, more dangerous degenerate. He also didn't tell her that it was her zanpakutō that had prompted him to come, or she would start bothering him about her again.

After a pause the Shinigami sighed in defeat. Looking away, she said rather tiredly, "As you can see I'm a fool, but I'm fine."

There was something innocent about her embarrassment, something he'd never witnessed in Hueco Mundo before. The thought that Nnoitra might hurt her and take that innocence from her suddenly didn't sit well with him at all. Generally he was against such a mindless violence even before, but now he realised it wasn't only because it was his duty to keep her safe. His own personal thoughts fell in line with it, too.

Seeing there was nothing else to say and it was already past two o'clock in the night, he told her, somehow compelled to sound gently, "You should get some rest. It's late."

The Shinigami looked at him strangely, then nodded and replied softly, "You too."

A/N:

This is it for now!

See you next time!

朝霧 -Asagiri-