Winter War: Orihime: Despair and Hope
Title: Orihime: Despair and Hope
Arc: Winter War - an AU co-write with liralen and sophiap
Characters: Orihime, Ulquiorra
Rating/Warning: PG-13 for language, references to character death
Summary: Breakfast in Hueco Mundo.
Notes: This is a rather dark AU co-plotted with liralen and sophiap. The war against Aizen's forces went very badly. Nothing is sacred and no one is safe.
Links
1. Nanao: Winter
2. Ukitake: Waking Up
3. Ikkaku: What Is, What Was
4. Kuukaku: Holding Ground
5. Nanao: Morning, Interrupted
6. Ukitake: Chance
ORIHIME: DESPAIR AND HOPE
Ulquiorra was sitting with her today. It was very kind of him, Orihime reminded herself, because he was a very important person (he was Second Espada now, just fancy!) and had many important things to do. She should be grateful that he was generous enough to take the time to watch over her and make sure that she didn't do anything silly.
He seemed a little distracted, though. His attention wasn't on her as she ate. His eyes were focused elsewhere, considering and detached.
"Is anything the matter?" she asked nervously.
With a perceptible shift of attention he focused on her, dark eyes like holes in his face. "Should there be?" he asked.
"You're thinking about something," she said. It was permissible to talk to him now that he had answered her, rather than simply ignoring her.
He considered. "Yes," he finally said. "Grimmjow is still missing."
Orihime flushed, lowering her eyes. She remembered the session when she had been supposed to try to increase Grimmjow's powers. She remembered him shouting at her, threatening her . . . and then nothing.
"If he remains on his hunt much longer, it will irritate Aizen-sama," Ulquiorra said. There was no irritation in his voice, though. If anything, there was a controlled satisfaction at the thought of Grimmjow stepping outside his limits one time too many.
Ulquiorra didn't need to speak for Orihime to know how much he despised Grimmjow.
"Maybe . . . maybe something might have attacked him?" she offered.
"Why do you think that?" Ulquiorra inquired. It wasn't a trap in the way that some of them liked playing. He honestly wanted an answer from her.
Orihime thought before speaking. It seemed more difficult to think these days. A year ago, when there had been school and friends and sunlight and fresh air, she could join ideas together into a brilliant sparking firework of concept and ideal. She could tell stories. She could dream. These days she had to watch her thoughts so very carefully. She couldn't think about some things, or some people, or some faces, or she would start crying and then it was very hard to stop. The last time that had happened, one of the healers from Fourth Division had been called and he had given her some drugs that had finally let her sleep without the dreams.
One of the thoughts that she wouldn't let herself think involved finding more of those drugs and then sleeping again and not waking up this time.
"Because Grimmjow always wants to fight," she finally said, "and that was probably why he went out hunting. And he wouldn't have any reason to stay out there unless there was fighting. And if there wasn't any fighting then he'd probably come back to challenge," she couldn't say Kurosaki-kun, she couldn't, because it wasn't him any more, "Espada 0 again. So the only reason for him to still be out there would be if he was still fighting or if something attacked him."
"Logical," Ulquiorra said. She relaxed under the lack of his disapproval. "There is said to be a new Hollow roaming the area, possibly even a Vastolorde. It would be inconvenient if he had encountered it."
"Have the patrols seen anything?" she asked.
"No. They have seen nothing of him and felt nothing of his reiatsu." Disapproval showed in the thin downturn of his mouth. "It may be necessary for a more powerful search to be mounted."
"Of course," Orihime said, and took another bite of her breakfast. It was very plain, but she chewed and swallowed. Aizen-sama wanted her live for at least a little longer, and so Ulquiorra wanted her to eat, and so she ate.
"There is another matter," Ulquiorra said.
Orihime looked up at him again, her stomach lurching. Had she somehow done something wrong? Did Aizen-sama have another mission for her?
"One of the prisoners has vanished," Ulquiorra said, paying out each word with slow deliberate precision. "One of the human ones. Sado Yasutora."
Orihime could feel the colour draining from her face. She'd known that he at least was alive, they'd told her that much, and Aizen-sama had even promised that maybe if Sado was no longer a threat to him, then he'd let Orihime see him, and maybe even let him go -- and the thought was something that she kept for the coldest days and the longest nights, the thought that they hadn't all died while they were trying to save her.
Useless her. Worthless her.
"Continue eating," Ulquiorra instructed her. "You have grown thin and weak. You must remain strong."
"Yes," Orihime agreed tonelessly, and lifted her spoon to her mouth again.
Ulquiorra watched her eat another couple of mouthfuls before continuing. "We are not sure whether he has been removed by Kurotsuchi's agents," he said, "or by Szayel's, or if he managed to escape on his own. Or if he was helped."
His eyes were like obsidian knives. No, obsidian laser beams. The thought dropped into her head in a sudden splash of action (superheroine Aqua-Orihime bursts out of the water in an incredible seafoam avalanche of motion!) like a gift from the person she had been once, before all of this, before the white corridors and the sunless sky. Obsidian laser beams in his android body, because Super-Android Ulquiorra is made all of plastic and stone.
(if he managed to escape on his own, or if he was helped)
She swallowed, then shook her head. "I didn't even know that he was gone until you told me," she said. Her voice was calm and even. Everything else had drained out of it.
She was not going to allow herself to think about hope, not even for a moment.
Ulquiorra stared at her a little longer, just enough to make her wonder if he could see something in her that she didn't know, and then nodded. "I realise that. Your behaviour has been adequate. You show no signs of treason. However, others felt it necessary that you should be asked."
"Others?" Orihime said. She couldn't even pretend to sound surprised.
Ulqiuorra shrugged. "Neither Szayel nor Kurotsuchi will claim responsibility. He was one of your friends, before you came into Aizen-sama's service."
Before.
Depair had built walls around her, shielding her from the before so that she didn't have to think about it, and barring her from the after so that she didn't have to think about eternity inside these walls and in this slavery. She had accepted those walls. It would be almost a worse pain than she could imagine to let them down again.
She could not even imagine escape, not for herself.
But perhaps she could begin to think about it.
Over the weeks and months she had drifted into silence. She had spoken to nobody except whoever was watching over her that day. Aizen-sama had no time for her. Ulquiorra kept her safe from Kurotsuchi-taichou -- no, he was just Kurotsuchi-sama now, even if they all called him Kurotsuchi-sama, he couldn't be a shinigami captain any more -- and from Szayel-sama. Nobody else had anything to say to her.
If she was even going to begin thinking about possibilities, about the future, about escape (and how the thought terrified her), then she needed to know what was going on.
The defences that she had built for herself over the months, the detachment and weariness, kept her voice quiet and her manner cowed and obedient. "That was before," she said. "Aizen-sama said that I could see him when he was . . . when he was better. I hadn't tried to go anywhere near him. I had been ordered not to."
Ulquiorra nodded, satisfied (she could read that much in his manner and his posture) by her repetition and acceptance of orders. "Yes. You are correct."
She ate a last bite, then put the spoon down. Her brain was full of whirring empty wheels and wings, and she thought that she could hear the Shun Shun Rikka chatting just out of earshot. "Ulquiorra . . ."
"Yes?" he said.
"I am grateful that you look after me." She was. She had grown accustomed to his presence. He was like cold stone, leeching the heat out of her body as she sat there in his presence, like black drenching rain in autumn, but at least he had never hurt her. He judged her and he disapproved of her and he held her in contempt, but while she was still worthwhile to Aizen-sama, she was therefore worthwhile to Ulquiorra.
It mattered that she should be worthwhile to someone.
He nodded dismissively. "I am ordered to do so."
She tried to think how she would have persuaded Tatsuki (and at least she was safe, she had to be safe), or Kurosaki-kun (but the mask was on a stranger's face), or Ishida-kun (they hadn't let her see the body, they hadn't let her see the body, they hadn't even let her see the body), or . . . "I need to prove that I am loyal to Aizen-sama," she said, the words coming from that sea of calm and distance that she had been floating in for months now. "Other people will be suspicious. He has been gracious to me. There has to be something that I can do."
Ulquiorra considered that, his eyes unblinking as a lizard's. "Aizen-sama has no time for you at the moment," he finally said. "He is busy elsewhere. But your attitude is an improvement. You recognise your place?"
Orihime bowed her head. "I am Aizen-sama's servant. I only seek to obey him and do his will."
"I will consider it." He rose to his feet. "I have matters to attend to. You will accompany me." Her obedience must have pleased him, somewhere, somehow, for he added, "If you have anything of value to say while you are present, then you may speak."
"Thank you, Ulquiorra," Orihime answered.
(if he managed to escape on his own, or if he was helped)
She was afraid to hope. It would be safer to despair, and to trust Ulquiorra, and to obey.
But. But. But. The word was as soft in the back of her head as the pad of Ulquiorra's steps as he led her down the corridor. All the white corridors and all the sunless skies in the world couldn't wipe away that single moment of possibility and change.
But maybe she could think about hoping, just a little, when nobody was watching, and when even Ulquiorra couldn't see it.
---
Arc: Winter War - an AU co-write with liralen and sophiap
Characters: Orihime, Ulquiorra
Rating/Warning: PG-13 for language, references to character death
Summary: Breakfast in Hueco Mundo.
Notes: This is a rather dark AU co-plotted with liralen and sophiap. The war against Aizen's forces went very badly. Nothing is sacred and no one is safe.
Links
1. Nanao: Winter
2. Ukitake: Waking Up
3. Ikkaku: What Is, What Was
4. Kuukaku: Holding Ground
5. Nanao: Morning, Interrupted
6. Ukitake: Chance
ORIHIME: DESPAIR AND HOPE
Ulquiorra was sitting with her today. It was very kind of him, Orihime reminded herself, because he was a very important person (he was Second Espada now, just fancy!) and had many important things to do. She should be grateful that he was generous enough to take the time to watch over her and make sure that she didn't do anything silly.
He seemed a little distracted, though. His attention wasn't on her as she ate. His eyes were focused elsewhere, considering and detached.
"Is anything the matter?" she asked nervously.
With a perceptible shift of attention he focused on her, dark eyes like holes in his face. "Should there be?" he asked.
"You're thinking about something," she said. It was permissible to talk to him now that he had answered her, rather than simply ignoring her.
He considered. "Yes," he finally said. "Grimmjow is still missing."
Orihime flushed, lowering her eyes. She remembered the session when she had been supposed to try to increase Grimmjow's powers. She remembered him shouting at her, threatening her . . . and then nothing.
"If he remains on his hunt much longer, it will irritate Aizen-sama," Ulquiorra said. There was no irritation in his voice, though. If anything, there was a controlled satisfaction at the thought of Grimmjow stepping outside his limits one time too many.
Ulquiorra didn't need to speak for Orihime to know how much he despised Grimmjow.
"Maybe . . . maybe something might have attacked him?" she offered.
"Why do you think that?" Ulquiorra inquired. It wasn't a trap in the way that some of them liked playing. He honestly wanted an answer from her.
Orihime thought before speaking. It seemed more difficult to think these days. A year ago, when there had been school and friends and sunlight and fresh air, she could join ideas together into a brilliant sparking firework of concept and ideal. She could tell stories. She could dream. These days she had to watch her thoughts so very carefully. She couldn't think about some things, or some people, or some faces, or she would start crying and then it was very hard to stop. The last time that had happened, one of the healers from Fourth Division had been called and he had given her some drugs that had finally let her sleep without the dreams.
One of the thoughts that she wouldn't let herself think involved finding more of those drugs and then sleeping again and not waking up this time.
"Because Grimmjow always wants to fight," she finally said, "and that was probably why he went out hunting. And he wouldn't have any reason to stay out there unless there was fighting. And if there wasn't any fighting then he'd probably come back to challenge," she couldn't say Kurosaki-kun, she couldn't, because it wasn't him any more, "Espada 0 again. So the only reason for him to still be out there would be if he was still fighting or if something attacked him."
"Logical," Ulquiorra said. She relaxed under the lack of his disapproval. "There is said to be a new Hollow roaming the area, possibly even a Vastolorde. It would be inconvenient if he had encountered it."
"Have the patrols seen anything?" she asked.
"No. They have seen nothing of him and felt nothing of his reiatsu." Disapproval showed in the thin downturn of his mouth. "It may be necessary for a more powerful search to be mounted."
"Of course," Orihime said, and took another bite of her breakfast. It was very plain, but she chewed and swallowed. Aizen-sama wanted her live for at least a little longer, and so Ulquiorra wanted her to eat, and so she ate.
"There is another matter," Ulquiorra said.
Orihime looked up at him again, her stomach lurching. Had she somehow done something wrong? Did Aizen-sama have another mission for her?
"One of the prisoners has vanished," Ulquiorra said, paying out each word with slow deliberate precision. "One of the human ones. Sado Yasutora."
Orihime could feel the colour draining from her face. She'd known that he at least was alive, they'd told her that much, and Aizen-sama had even promised that maybe if Sado was no longer a threat to him, then he'd let Orihime see him, and maybe even let him go -- and the thought was something that she kept for the coldest days and the longest nights, the thought that they hadn't all died while they were trying to save her.
Useless her. Worthless her.
"Continue eating," Ulquiorra instructed her. "You have grown thin and weak. You must remain strong."
"Yes," Orihime agreed tonelessly, and lifted her spoon to her mouth again.
Ulquiorra watched her eat another couple of mouthfuls before continuing. "We are not sure whether he has been removed by Kurotsuchi's agents," he said, "or by Szayel's, or if he managed to escape on his own. Or if he was helped."
His eyes were like obsidian knives. No, obsidian laser beams. The thought dropped into her head in a sudden splash of action (superheroine Aqua-Orihime bursts out of the water in an incredible seafoam avalanche of motion!) like a gift from the person she had been once, before all of this, before the white corridors and the sunless sky. Obsidian laser beams in his android body, because Super-Android Ulquiorra is made all of plastic and stone.
(if he managed to escape on his own, or if he was helped)
She swallowed, then shook her head. "I didn't even know that he was gone until you told me," she said. Her voice was calm and even. Everything else had drained out of it.
She was not going to allow herself to think about hope, not even for a moment.
Ulquiorra stared at her a little longer, just enough to make her wonder if he could see something in her that she didn't know, and then nodded. "I realise that. Your behaviour has been adequate. You show no signs of treason. However, others felt it necessary that you should be asked."
"Others?" Orihime said. She couldn't even pretend to sound surprised.
Ulqiuorra shrugged. "Neither Szayel nor Kurotsuchi will claim responsibility. He was one of your friends, before you came into Aizen-sama's service."
Before.
Depair had built walls around her, shielding her from the before so that she didn't have to think about it, and barring her from the after so that she didn't have to think about eternity inside these walls and in this slavery. She had accepted those walls. It would be almost a worse pain than she could imagine to let them down again.
She could not even imagine escape, not for herself.
But perhaps she could begin to think about it.
Over the weeks and months she had drifted into silence. She had spoken to nobody except whoever was watching over her that day. Aizen-sama had no time for her. Ulquiorra kept her safe from Kurotsuchi-taichou -- no, he was just Kurotsuchi-sama now, even if they all called him Kurotsuchi-sama, he couldn't be a shinigami captain any more -- and from Szayel-sama. Nobody else had anything to say to her.
If she was even going to begin thinking about possibilities, about the future, about escape (and how the thought terrified her), then she needed to know what was going on.
The defences that she had built for herself over the months, the detachment and weariness, kept her voice quiet and her manner cowed and obedient. "That was before," she said. "Aizen-sama said that I could see him when he was . . . when he was better. I hadn't tried to go anywhere near him. I had been ordered not to."
Ulquiorra nodded, satisfied (she could read that much in his manner and his posture) by her repetition and acceptance of orders. "Yes. You are correct."
She ate a last bite, then put the spoon down. Her brain was full of whirring empty wheels and wings, and she thought that she could hear the Shun Shun Rikka chatting just out of earshot. "Ulquiorra . . ."
"Yes?" he said.
"I am grateful that you look after me." She was. She had grown accustomed to his presence. He was like cold stone, leeching the heat out of her body as she sat there in his presence, like black drenching rain in autumn, but at least he had never hurt her. He judged her and he disapproved of her and he held her in contempt, but while she was still worthwhile to Aizen-sama, she was therefore worthwhile to Ulquiorra.
It mattered that she should be worthwhile to someone.
He nodded dismissively. "I am ordered to do so."
She tried to think how she would have persuaded Tatsuki (and at least she was safe, she had to be safe), or Kurosaki-kun (but the mask was on a stranger's face), or Ishida-kun (they hadn't let her see the body, they hadn't let her see the body, they hadn't even let her see the body), or . . . "I need to prove that I am loyal to Aizen-sama," she said, the words coming from that sea of calm and distance that she had been floating in for months now. "Other people will be suspicious. He has been gracious to me. There has to be something that I can do."
Ulquiorra considered that, his eyes unblinking as a lizard's. "Aizen-sama has no time for you at the moment," he finally said. "He is busy elsewhere. But your attitude is an improvement. You recognise your place?"
Orihime bowed her head. "I am Aizen-sama's servant. I only seek to obey him and do his will."
"I will consider it." He rose to his feet. "I have matters to attend to. You will accompany me." Her obedience must have pleased him, somewhere, somehow, for he added, "If you have anything of value to say while you are present, then you may speak."
"Thank you, Ulquiorra," Orihime answered.
(if he managed to escape on his own, or if he was helped)
She was afraid to hope. It would be safer to despair, and to trust Ulquiorra, and to obey.
But. But. But. The word was as soft in the back of her head as the pad of Ulquiorra's steps as he led her down the corridor. All the white corridors and all the sunless skies in the world couldn't wipe away that single moment of possibility and change.
But maybe she could think about hoping, just a little, when nobody was watching, and when even Ulquiorra couldn't see it.
---