Footprints in the Sand [3/?]
Ulquiorra waited patiently as Aizen once again reviewed the information he had gathered from his visit to the human world. It was quiet, thankfully, now that all of the others had been dismissed. Their bickering, Grimmjow’s especially, was tiring to say the least. He always seemed to choose the path opposite to the one Ulquiorra calculated to be correct; however, whether it was due to personal reasons or just part of Grimmjow's nature, he wasn't sure.
Oddly, the subject of the fight had been the very thing Ulquiorra had been least interested in. The fake shinigami was abnormal, he knew, but odd power fluctuations weren’t as intriguing as the other ability he had witnessed.
Time reversal, spatial renewal, or perhaps something completely different?
As if guessing his thoughts, Aizen spoke, “You are intrigued by her power, aren’t you Ulquiorra?” His eyes moved to look at the arrancar, a cold amusement held within them. “Because you cannot identify it.”
Ulquiorra blinked slowly though was unsurprised at the shinigami’s deduction. “I have never seen this power before.”
Aizen, looking back at the newly made recording, rested his head on his hand. “I have seen powers similar to this, though never held by a human.”
He was silent again, and Ulquiorra knew better than ask further. Aizen liked to seem very open to the arrancar, but in truth he only revealed what he wished, to further his own objectives and nothing more.
“You did well Ulquiorra,” Aizen finally said, a smile on his face that made Ulquiorra wary. “Though, it seems very odd for you to easily order someone’s death, especially someone you did not fully understand at the time. Or was it a ploy to make sure Kurosaki-kun fought with everything he had?”
Without hesitation, Ulquiorra answered, “I knew Yammy would not notice the shinigami’s arrival so I was certain he would fail in killing the woman. However, I knew I was to observe him at full strength, which, I deduced, could be accomplished using the threat on his companions' lives.”
Moving his hands to rest upon the arms of the chair that served as his throne, Aizen nodded. “It was good then, that she was spared, for I believe I may have a use for this girl.”
At this, Ulquiorra raised his eyebrows. It seemed almost absurd that Aizen would find use of a human, even one that had mysterious abilities. Though, he had to admit, he would not fully regret another opportunity to observe her. The information could prove useful later.
“Her abilities may have potential,” Ulquiorra agreed, but surprisingly his statement aroused a chuckle from his leader.
“Her powers are interesting, but it is not entirely what I had in mind for her.” Pausing the recording, Aizen rose and moved closer to the screen. Upon it was the image of the girl standing protectively in front of the two humans lying on the ground. “No, there is only one use for a girl like this. You see, I knew a girl like her, back in Soul Society…my vice-captain, to be exact. She followed my orders without thought or doubt, trusted me unconditionally, and was so loyal she turned her sword against someone that was like family to her. A girl like this…Inoue Orihime, is very much like her. She is someone who can be easily…manipulated.”
Green eyes flickered between the image on the screen and the back of his leader, unreadable but alert. He watched as Aizen turned away to finally address him with a smile, the same type of smile a father might give to his child, warm and withholding any harmful intent. Aizen did well at acting trustworthy.
“I want you to bring this girl to me, Ulquiorra. She will fit in nicely here, I think.”
Ulquiorra stiffened reflexively, a chill creeping up his spine, but hid his discomfort in a bow. “As you wish Aizen-sama. Shall I leave for the human world now?”
“No, not yet,” Aizen was already returning to his seat. “There are a few things that I wish to allow to…play out, for now. I will notify you when I believe the time is right.”
“Yes Aizen-sama,” Ulquiorra replied, bowing once again before allowing himself to leave.
Ulquiorra left the presence of the man who would stand in heaven, an odd feeling plaguing him. Something had stirred just then; some hollowish pride that usually slept deep within him had suddenly awakened. Usually he ignored such feelings. What purpose did they have besides causing him distraction? There truly was no way out for him, not now, not ever.
The reminder that he, on any level, was no less a captive than the woman he was going to bring to his world, well, was better off buried and never dwelled on.
I awake to see that no one is free, we’re all fugitives...