Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Invisible Writing ❯ Chapter 2

Invisible Writing

by debbiechan

Disclaimer: Kubo Tite owns Bleach, and Incandescens owns the imagination that gave me the scenario for this particular fanfic.

Description: Orihime acquires a slave in Hueco Mundo--Ishida.

Warnings: Although this fic is A/U (heaven help me, I’m not an A/U writer!), it may contain slight spoilers for Bleach post Soul Society arc. References to violence and sex will be not be explicit--probably R level. Given my predilections, however, NC17 is possible in future chapters.

Special thanks to Incandescens and Finnigan Geist

Part Two

Why couldn’t he talk to her?

Inoue-san believed that she was Aizen’s daughter, and Ishida needed to break her blithe trance if he was going to convince her to escape with him, but every time she smiled and babbled about how the barred windows in her rooms would look better with shutters, his heart hesitated. Breaching her world would involve emotional violence. Every time his mouth opened to speak the word Inoue-san, Ishida fell dumb to her beautiful, happy face.

What was he supposed to do? Grab the princess by the shoulders and shout that the person she knew as her father was a genocidal villain? That she was unconsciously abetting his wickedness?

Ishida told himself that he was biding his time, that he needed to assess his environment and plot a rescue likely to succeed. No need to be rash. No need to be like Kurosaki, whose methods were clumsy, valiant, and doomed. The bastard was just lucky, and that last time--

Ishida fingered the cord around the waist of his loose tunic. It was a simple robe that fell below his knees, and Inoue-san had sewed it out of a coarse fabric from the Living World. Earth fabric, earth thread. The Hollow were plundering the world as Aizen’s war raged, and for some reason, objects and people didn’t need to be converted into spiritrons in order to enter Hueco Mundo as they did before coming to Soul Society….

I’m a living soul. That means my powers are intact. No one here knows who I am or what my potential is.

Even the soul seller--obviously a dolt at sensing reiatsu--had not guessed Ishida’s true power. Coming to consciousness in Hueco Mundo, Ishida had felt the many-armed soul seller poking his chest here and there and warbling "Oooh, this one is a strong one; we can sell him to the palace!" Then the reiatsu-dampening collar had snapped on.

Ishida’s hand rose from the cord at his waist to the collar at his neck. Inoue-san’s annoying little Arrancar handmaidens didn’t trust him without it, but it would be easy to get Inoue-san to remove it again. All he had to do was ask.

I was falling among the dead in a battle with Arrancar, and now here I am in Hueco Mundo with Inoue-san. It must be my destiny to rescue her.

Ishida was still having trouble processing what exactly had happened to him. How had his body been removed from the battle scene? There had been many killed; perhaps mercenary Hollow waited in the shadows during skirmishes and hauled away the freshly dead?

He swallowed hard as he tried to remember when the war began. He could see Kurosaki giving Ryuuken a soul burial. Ryuuken’s spirit, with a begrudging reluctance, still so prideful in the afterlife, had bowed before the hilt of the Shinigami’s zanpakutou and then ….

Ishida shut his eyes. That was when he had counter-attacked too recklessly, and then….

Inoue-san ascending to Hueco Mundo in a column of light… that monster’s arm around her shoulder….

Weeks of Kurosaki missing, presumed dead, Arrancar raid after raid on Earth and so many, many innocent dead….

No, Kurosaki’s not dead. He’s too damn lucky.

"Here, Uryuu!" Ishida’s reverie was broken by a loud voice and a garland of plastic flowers falling into his lap. Almatriste was standing over him. "I want these pretties on my curtains. Lastimada doesn’t want any flowers on hers--just a ribbon trim like you sewed for Orihime-sama."

Ishida stared at the bright pink, very fake roses from the Living World. "These are poor quality," he said. "The spirit materials of your original robe are more durable. I’m sure you can have your mistress design--"

"You don’t get it." Almatriste swished around in the long blue skirt Inoue-san had sewed for her yesterday. It matched Ishida’s servant uniform. "Things from the Living World have cache. They’re rare. Displaying little baubles from war is all the rage now among the Arrancar."

"But Orihime-sama…." Ishida looked around the spacious room he had shared last night with the princess of Las Noches. He had slept on a cot at the foot of her bed because the female servants had been scared to bring him into their quarters, and Orihime-sama had refused to turn her new servant over to the registry. "Orihime-sama doesn’t seem like the type to enjoy showing off battle trophies."

"She just likes things from Earth," Almatriste said. "Ever since the first shipment of broken teacups from the Living World, she’s been wild for Earth things."

"So you want curtains?" Ishida needed to win the trust of the handmaidens if he was going secure time alone with Inoue-san. He stood up and walked to his pile of knick-knacks. "Show me what fabric you want. Unless your windows are the same size as Orihime-sama’s, you’re going to have to let me in there to take measurements."

Almatriste seemed to eye Ishida’s collar to make certain it was properly fastened. "Alright. Lastimada is out, and she’s the one who thinks you’re going to rummage through her private drawers and cast human spells on us. I’m not afraid of you."

Ishida grabbed a roll of yarn with which to measure the windows and followed Almatriste into the adjoining room.

**

Aizen ate in his private quarters before the diurnal meeting with Espada generals, and many times Orihime found Gin at breakfast with him. She was hoping that Gin-sama would be there today.

Gin wasn’t there. The servant was gathering an empty miso bowl and a rice plate.

"Oh drat," Orihime said as she turned into the wide alcove. "I’m sorry that you had to eat alone."

"Orihime, dear, don’t feel obligated to join me for every meal." Aizen put down his tea-cup and smiled a gentle smile. "But if you haven’t eaten yet, sit with me for a moment." He gestured and the servant promptly refilled the tea-cup. "The Espada can wait."

"I’m so sorry I’m late." Orihime slid into a chair, and her maidservant, the newly-attired Lastimada, stood behind her. "I stayed up sewing uniforms for my girls, and I sorted all the pretty things I got at the market. All the sellers were so nice--just like you said they would be!"

Aizen’s servant bowed the princess. "The usual, Orihime-sama?"

"That would be the un-usual in the case of our princess," said Aizen. "Orihime, would you like something in particular from the Living World? Pocky? Potato chips?"

"Oh no no no no, whatever." Orihime waggled her hands to protest the special attention. "The usual is fine."

She babbled about her first trip to the market and the noisiness of the world beyond the palace until the servant brought her cherry tart and Aizen mentioned her purchase of a slave.

"You didn’t register him to be trained for palace service, dear." Aizen did not look perturbed. "Spirits are not for coddling. Everyone in Las Noches must learn his station."

"But I’m training him myself," said Orihime. "He--we both like to sew, and he’s helping me redecorate. He’s very nice and very …." She searched for the word to appeal to Aizen’s affinity for devoted underlings. "Tame. He’s a nice, tame human."

"Human, is he?" Aizen rose from the table. "All your servants are specialized Arrancar, but as long as you’re enjoying yourself --"

A fierce reiatsu blew a napkin off the table and Orihime’s hair about her face. Aizen looked to the door and smiled at who he saw there.

"This pretense," came a high-pitched, crazy voice. "All this playing at civilization and lingering over tea! You hold onto too much of your human spirit, Aizen. If you would only merge with a Hollow and transform yourself, this war would be over."

"And since when have you been impatient for peace?"

Orihime lowered her eyes. She didn’t like this visitor. His presence always made her nervous.

"I’m not impatient for peace, Aizen. I’m impatient for power. Gin said that there would be a demonstration of the hougyoku at this meeting so I figured I could be bothered to come for once. But I show up and you’re not even in the assembly room." A thin, hysterical laugh. "You bastard. All these weeks of war have been about displaying your prettiness and playing palace. When does the real fun begin? When?"

"Ichigo," said Aizen, and Orihime felt an involuntary shudder at the name. "Walk with me to the assembly. I promise that you will not be disappointed."

"I will walk nowhere with you, Aizen."

"Of course. Well then, I hope to see you there." Aizen cast a glance over his shoulder. "Orihime, be a good girl and try the potato chips. The shipment from the Living World came especially for you."

Orihime looked up in time to see the Hollow in the tight black coat de-materialize from the doorway. There was something unsettling about that one. His screechy voice, his striped mask, the way Aizen-sama seemed to regard him with affection despite the creature’s extraordinary rudeness.

Her father, long white robes wavering, began a leisurely walk out the doorway. He didn’t zip around like Ichigo.

**

After Orihime had finished her second bag of chips, Lastimada observed that her mistress ate more food than anyone in the palace. Orihime was instantly penitent. "Oh, did you want some? Here, let’s order another bag."

"I don’t eat," Lastimada reminded her. "What amazes me is how much you do."

"I suppose it’s because I’m not an Arrancar yet," said Orihime. She pointed to the spirit-chain hole at Lastimada’s abdomen. "I want one of those. Do you think when I get one, I won’t feel so hungry all the time? Where do you think mine will be? I want one in my neck like Ulquiorra-san’s."

"I’m sure Aizen-sama will give our princess whatever she wants." Lastimada bowed her head. She was more formal than Almatriste, but both handmaidens were familiar and friendly with their mistress. Orihime could always sense genuine affection from both of them.

"He doesn’t give me everything," Orihime said. "He never lets me come to these Espada meetings of his."

Not that Orihime particularly wanted to go to an Espada assembly of war, but she was bothered by the feeling that her father was over-protecting her. Ever since she could remember, Aizen-sama had told her that she was privileged and esteemed above all the Arrancar, but like everyone else in Las Noches, Orihime had no idea what was going to happen next. Aizen-sama’s agenda was his own.

You are our princess. Stop trembling. There is nothing to fear and all the wonders of the universe will be revealed…. You are newly born… I made you.

"I’m surprised that Aizen-sama didn’t demand training for your new servant." Lastimada--one eyebrow raised in amazement--watched Orihime open a third bag of chips. "Your Uryuu has probably strangled Almatriste with the curtains by now."

"No he hasn’t."

Uryuu. The boy had said his name was Ishida Uryuu. It was a pretty name for a pretty boy. When Orihime had returned to the bathtub to heal him yesterday evening, she had smiled at how shiny his hair looked dripping wet past his collar, how blue his eyes were without the glasses, how prettily he blushed all over. She had sensed--in a blur of intuition--that humans were not supposed to look upon one another’s nakedness, but how could she possibly have known that? She had summoned Ayume and Shonou, and the fairies had flown over the tub, casting their golden aura, healing the boy’s many gaping cuts.

His face had looked so relieved, and Orihime had gasped, "Oh stupid me. I should’ve healed you before you got in the water. It was stinging, huh?"

She paused munching her chip. Uryuu…. She wondered if he had slept comfortably. She wondered if he, like her, still felt insatiably hungry--even after breakfast. She wondered why she was so intrigued by him and why, of all the poor souls in chains in the market, she had wanted to protect him.

Had the sorrows of war been that naked on his face?

**

Ishida was putting the finishing touches on a pillowcase when the princess returned to her bedroom. He could not sense reiatsu well with the collar on, so her presence startled him into stabbing himself with an embroidery needle. He stifled a yip and put his finger in his mouth.

"There you are!" The schoolgirl he had known as Inoue-san clasped her hands together, and her white skirt caught a breeze from the open window. She really does look like a princess. "Look how industrious you’ve been! The curtains! The curtains are wonderful!"

"See," said Almatriste to the still-skeptical Lastimada. Almatriste was holding a basket of spools and trimmings for the new servant. "He’s harmless. And he’s got specialized skills. Everyone’s going to want him."

"Aizen-sama said I didn’t have to send you to training," the princess continued to Ishida. "I was thinking about it, though, and it occurred to me that maybe you might not want to be my servant after all. I’ve lived with my family my whole life, so I really don’t know what it’s like to miss people, but don’t you miss your family?"

"What?" The finger in his mouth was still bleeding, and the taste reminded him of battle.

"I mean, maybe I can have you returned to the Living World somehow." Her eyes were so kind. "Would you like that? To return to your family?"

"I--" Ryuuken diving between Ishida’s body and the Arrancar’s drawn blade….The zanpakutou slashing through his father’s throat. "I--I don’t know," Ishida murmured. "My family is dead."

"I see." Inoue-san bit her bottom lip and looked exactly like she did that first day of handicrafts club, when she couldn’t figure out where the freshmen were supposed to sit. "I suppose we can talk about it later. I guess this world is a big adjustment for you, but maybe …." She smiled encouragingly. "Maybe you won’t want to leave after you get used to it? It’s beautiful here--I promise it is."

Ishida knew that he would not leave Hueco Mundo without Inoue-san, that was for certain.

Almatriste looked from the princess to the slave and back again, and it seemed to Ishida that she didn’t like what she saw. "Querida, did you have a nice breakfast with Aizen-sama?"

"Ichigo showed up there." The princess scrunched up her nose and stuck out her tongue. He’s always showing off his reiatsu. He’s so ugly and rude, and I have no idea why Aizen-sama puts up with him."

The look on Ishida’s face made all three faces stare.

"What?" Inoue-san looked puzzled. "Does the name mean something to you?" She has intuition like lightning. "Is Ichigo a famous Hollow?"

"I--I--" Ishida’s mind was racing. No Arrancar in the palace, in all likelihood, knew what a Quincy was, and none would recognize Ishida Uryuu because he had not been fighting at close range with the Shinigami in recent battles. But Kurosaki in Hollow form? He might recognize Ishida off the bat. A hybridized Kurosaki had to be a dangerous thing. A Kurosaki in league with Aizen--worse.

"I suppose," Ishida finally stammered out. "You could say that the name Ichigo meant something once in the Living World."

He ran his fingers across the needlework on his lap. What had he been doing? Embroidering flowers on a pillowcase for the princess’ head? This situation was urgent. He had to get Inoue-san out of here.

~TBC~

&nb sp;