Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Hell Butterfly ❯ Saboteuse ( Chapter 7 )

 

Hell Butterfly

 

Saboteuse

~07~

 

o)0(o

 

“Flamenco dancing cyclones with beaks and I nearly got whupped. You?”

 

“Don't ask…” replied Uryuu, going slightly green and shuddering. “Bad Gothic Lolita and Infinite Slick.”

 

“Chad?”

 

Sado Yasutora stared at his hands, remembering the new white arm that had appeared as inexplicably as the first. The Brazo Izquierdo del Diablo, and its powerful attack performed with the left fist - La Muerte. He was beginning to worry how much of his body would be taken over every time he accessed his abilities. He wondered whose face he had left carved on the white walls of Las Noches.

 

“It was easy,” he said simply, a wealth of detail left unvoiced as usual, but for once on purpose. The teenager was not quite ready to accept the roots of his powers, despite the fact that it was becoming clearer and clearer that it was the limbs of a Hollow with which he fought. When Ichigo scoffed dryly and shook his head, Chad added one more feature. “He had an orange afro.”

 

o)0(o

 

The sound of her crunching was embarrassingly loud in the silent, deserted chamber. Tousen-san must have been busy following the progress of the invaders, because her latest feeding consisted of a few hastily sliced vegetables and a packet of crisps. The wrapping rustled and crackled, glossy plastic colours surreal against the backdrop of imprisoning white sandstone. Now her scatty head was crowded with images of Gin shopping at a convenience store, alongside those of Tousen the pastry chef and Aizen buying intimidating furniture. She laughed inadvertently, imagining Ganju and Hanatarou's faces when the traitor captain popped his head up at their part-time job's till.

 

She wondered what their boss had thought about their sudden disappearances after the Bounts had left Karakura. Then her musing on common groceries led her to ponder whether her spiritual body would still have periods. Would she need to request Gin for supplies? For that matter she hadn't needed the toilet ever since discarding her corporeal body to the matter-converter on the senkai gate. It seemed that everything she ate was fully absorbed into her soul. Now if that were true, she should just eat Ulquiorra.

 

It would be a delicious defeat.

 

Though he would probably taste of despair.

 

`Despair' brushed far too closely against the ugly realities she was trying to avoid; so she quickly sent her train of thought down a different track, such as how many spare capes Ishida had got through by now. Inoue was used to being alone, and used to the vicious circles of depression that could chase their tails inside her head for days at a time. As a child it had been the fear of her volatile parents; the yearning for their affection and feeling of worthlessness as her brother had carried her away from their choking embraces. Later it had been the isolation of an empty home, eternally absent brother and the ostracism at school for her weird habits and auburn hair. (She'd felt a connection with Ichigo from first sight, probably because his hair was even worse.) Then she had met Tatsuki and thrown herself headlong into the friendship, so overjoyed to be accepted and overprotected all at glorious once. In doing so she had probably stolen Kurosaki's best friend.

 

After that, she had been blessed with the Shun Shun Rikka. And cursed yet again with the knowledge that she could never match her peers. Ichigo was a powerhouse, Ishida a genius; Chad had hidden depths.

 

She had temperamental fairies.

 

She also had no crisps left, so she licked the salt off her greasy fingers and looked around the room guiltily for the act of normalcy. Judging by the distant auras, all the arrancars were gathering in Aizen's vast, sunlit courtyard in the centre of Las Noches. Judging by the distant auras, Karin-chan was heading there too, her heart left behind in some unknown parallel dimension. Judging by the distant auras, Kuchiki Rukia-san was almost dead.

 

Orihime swallowed the sob but it lurched out of her throat anyway. She shook her head, rubbed her sleeve across her damp eyes. If she crumbled now, she knew she would never stop breaking. She would end up a Hollow without her enemies needing to lift a finger. And maybe her Hollow form would have the flamethrower, caterpillar tracks and cannon she'd designed for Future Robohime!

 

Inoue was an expert at distracting herself, but it was getting harder with every passing second.

 

o)0(o

 

Ishida was opening his mouth to enquire after the whereabouts of Abarai Renji, when said shinigami careened around the corner and pelted towards them, legs pumping like pistons.

 

He was halfway past them before he had even realised they were there.

 

“RUN RUN RUN!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, flying down the corridor. “There's a herd of Exequias behind me!” The others watched him sprint off in bemusement, leaning round the corner to see what the big deal was.

 

“They don't look that bad…couldn't you just wipe them out?” Ichigo asked, examining the far-off crowd of identical Hollows. They did not appear to have faces.

 

Renji paused at the other end of the hallway, jogging on the spot to preserve his momentum. “Gee, thanks for the advice Ichigo, I never thought of that with my century of experience. I've already killed two hundred of them - they just multiply!”

 

He took off again, and wisely, they followed him.

 

o)0(o

 

Inoue snuck through the blank passageways of Las Noches like an overly conspicuous ninja. At first, her plan of cutting through the walls with Tsubaki's aid and arrowing straight for Kuchiki-san's location had seemed plausible. It was doable, even easy. Stone was nothing compared to the reiatsu-tempered skin of the arrancars. Stone she could actually sever, with a flash of amber magic and the crash of tumbling rubble.

 

But now it seemed that every time she stepped through a doorway or round a corner she would end up in a totally different section of the fortress. The labyrinth was beginning to close in around her, no pathways remained the same and not knowing where she would end up next was disorientating. As far as she could tell from the movements of her captors, no one had noticed her escape yet, however at this rate it would be a week before she could find and heal Rukia.

 

She had to get there fast, sure that her ability to reject fate would not work on someone who was already dead. Abandoning all of her laughable caution, Orihime began to run.

 

Kuchiki-san's aura was still sinking…

 

o)0(o

 

Unohana graced Kurotsuchi-taicho with her most patient smile. Perhaps if she persisted in doing so it would become true.

 

Kuchiki-taicho broke the silence first, on some level concerned about the state of his adopted younger sister. “Are you ready yet, Twelfth Captain?”

 

The man (she assumed he was still human) adjusted an output gauge on a large reiatsu battery, long white fingers prodding industriously at his task. “Don't rush me,” he warned in his dry, despising tones. “Or your stomach will purée out of your ears when the Garganta collapses.”

 

“Nice,” rumbled Zaraki-taicho. “Bet I could take it.”

 

o)0(o

 

Sprinting through the hallways, she felt the sense of fear and urgency dogging her. Everything was going wrong. She felt haunted even though no arrancars were hunting her, and that was a miracle in itself!

 

Inoue had gone to Hueco Mundo willingly because there had been no choice, more than that, she could not even consider valuing her friends' lives over her own, and sacrificing them for her own safety. And what kind of protection would that have been? Aizen hadn't needed to blackmail her, it was merely more convenient for him to do so. The decoy battles had probably been used to gather information and gauge the strength of his adversaries, or at least that was what she would do if she were an evil mastermind. And as for why they needed her at all, that remained unapparent. Orihime was becoming certain that the entire spectacle was an elaborate diversion, a divide-and-conquer ploy to split up Seireitei's best fighters.

 

What had ended up happening anyway?

 

Her friends had come to rescue her, and now they were dying for their heroism. She hadn't helped at all. She hadn't saved anyone. And she was so sick of just picking up the shattered pieces of her friends, sticking them back together instead of protecting them from harm. But still...who could begrudge a power that might save Rukia-chan, if only she was fast enough? Was it really her place to complain about the priceless gifts she'd been given by chance, when it was her own hesitance holding her back?

 

Realising how lost in her thoughts she had become, Inoue double-checked the atmosphere to ensure none of her captors had caught on to her little getaway. If she didn't pay attention she was probably going to crash straight into an - OOPH!

 

A green stone podium struck her ribs painfully, arms bracing against it moments too late. So intent on reaching her friend, and too used to the miles of blank, empty hallways, Inoue was totalled before she knew what hit her. Using it to pull herself up whilst a-tcha-tcha-ing at the dull ache of impact, she felt the cool marble grate under her hands, and paused.

 

A whisper of energy had escaped from a hairline crack in the stone.

 

Murky, foreign, tumultuous energy.

 

Energy she recognised.

 

Forgetting her bruised torso in a moment of mesmerised curiosity, Orihime began to drag the lid of the plinth open. A disc swung out into empty air, hanging there on a hidden pivot. There was no visible opening, so she repeated the action until several of the stone circles spiralled around each other. Beneath the last, nestled in a small silk-lined hollow, was a dilemma of life-endangering proportions.

 

“Hougyoku…” whispered Inoue, feeling her hands slip through an invisible barrier much like they had effortlessly breached Hacchi's. Her fingers closed over the cool crystal panes that housed the Orb of Distortion. A helpless laugh escaped her throat as a sob. It was exactly what she had wanted.

 

This kind of opportunity could only be called serendipity.

 

Ah…but, this kind of choice could only be called pitiful.

 

Because Rukia would surely die in the time it took to rid Aizen of the Hougyoku, and so save the world. Rukia, the most important person ever to change Ichigo's life - and through the butterfly effect, Inoue's own. How could she face him knowing that she had willingly abandoned such a precious friend? Hands slow and heavy, she placed the sphere back upon the pedestal. Her fingers fidgeted emptily on the rim of the podium. This is a war. There are casualties. Kuchiki-chan would want me to do this. Far more people will die if I don't. A cloud of indecision hung over her, prelude to indirect murder.

 

“Tsubaki,” called Orihime softly, praying she would be able to sabotage the source of Aizen's army quickly. That she wouldn't screw up, again; again when her closest friends were in danger. Time, time was whisking away.

 

Light flashed in the corner of her eye and a tiny, winged ninja warrior swooped around her. She glanced at the Hougyoku and looked at him questioningly. His equally silent reply was to smack her on the head.

 

“Ow!” she shouted. “What w-”

 

“Don't give me that look!” barked the pugnacious fairy. “That `ooh, do you think you can cut it, Tsubaki, are you strong enough' look! Me, I can cut anything! I'm awesome, and don't you forget it! The problem is you!”

 

Inoue mewled sadly, rubbing her bump. Of course. She was always the problem.

She started to shuffle away in defeat.

 

"Oi! Where are you going?"

 

"But Tsubaki-san, you said-"

 

He hit her again. "Never mind that, pay attention to what I'm saying!"

 

Inoue's eyes began to spin in gentle bewilderment.

 

"How badly do you want this thing destroyed? How much does it mean to you?"

 

She snapped to attention. "Everything!"

 

"Even if Rukia dies in the meantime?"

 

"This is more important!" And saying the words out loud forced them to be true.

 

"Even if you get the crap beaten out of you for disobeying Aizen?"

 

"Yes!" shouted back Orihime, tears in her eyes, because her overactive imagination could well predict how much that would hurt. Tsubaki winged back and forth before her, a tiny, angry sergeant-major inspecting his cadet.

 

"Is your heart totally committed, you pathetic little pansy?!"

 

"Yes!" roared Inoue, taking the initiative and pointing irately at the Hougyoku. "Tsubaki! Koten Zanshun! I REJECT!"

 

There was a blaze of golden light as though the sun had suddenly risen within the shadowy castle. Tsubaki pumped his fist, a full-on action pose mirrored by his mistress, and charged.

 

He pinged off the Hougyoku's crystal shell without leaving a single scratch.

 

"Mayday! Mayday!" he wailed, spiralling away with a bent wing.

 

Inoue deflated, no longer feeling fired up and capable of anything. Even her most determined shot had failed. "…I'm sorry, Tsubaki - are you okay?"

 

"Shut up!" he replied from the floor, crotchety. "You can be way more than resolute than that! Come on, this matters! Aizen's totally crossed the line: he stabbed Toushiro, he trashed Soul Society, cut up Ichigo, nearly vaporised Rukia, let his arrancars kill loads of innocent humans and-"

 

"I know," answered the young girl. "I know what he's done, I was there." She wrapped her arms around her ribs again, feeling a cool shiver on her skin. "Ayame, Shun'ou."

 

She glared at the Hougyoku, finally setting aside her deep-rooted terror and letting the dark anger at how her friends had been abused well up. She found it hard to summon righteous anger. After a lifetime of bullying from parents, peers and enemies, her inferiority complex tended to shy away from conflict; whereas acts of healing more easily gave her a feeling of being worthy to wield her powers.

 

Powers that, undeniably, were capable of being beyond limit.

 

If only she could live up to that.

 

She probably couldn't, but on the behalf of those she cared about she would fight like a lion, and tear that smug bastard Aizen to shreds. Rawr. It was time to make a stand.

 

"I don't think the Hougyoku will break, Tsubaki. It's not a normal substance."

 

"You're telling me; it's harder than freaking diamonds!"

 

Orihime swept him into her palms from his crash landing site in the corner of the chamber. “Then we'll just unmake it,” she said firmly, as if it were so simple. “Nothing can withstand time, even if time is going backwards. We,” she paused, blotting tears from her tired grey eyes as the chance to save Rukia slipped further and further away. “We can definitely do this.” Her voice was not as loud as before, yet neither did it quaver or doubt. I have never failed to heal.

 

I can make a difference here.

 

There were no clocks in Hueco Mundo, but she could still hear the tick-tick of escaping time. Was Aizen alerted when the plinth was opened? Was he on his way now, to crush her?

 

“Souten Kisshun, I reject.”

 

Two fragments of her soul leapt forwards and spun a golden shield from empty air. They hovered over the Hougyoku, bathing it in the glow that could nullify any action, reverse any wound. Yet the midnight orb reflected no light, merely drinking it up and hiding it away in the darkness of its sleek surface. There was no indication that her supernatural forces were affecting it. Orihime chose to ignore this worrying fact and press on, feeding reiatsu into her little avatars and half-melded to them, mentally directing the phenomena rejection.

 

At length a thin filament lifted from the sphere, squirming weakly. She wondered if it had been taken back in time or space to Karin-chan's degradation. Then too, it had changed in texture and shape to cling to Aizen's fingertips. Reassured that her Shun Shun Rikka were working successfully, Inoue allowed her mind to wander.

 

Naturally, it wandered to betrayal.

 

A teardrop splashed on the gently shining amber ellipse. It sizzled, evaporating away like Rukia's life, burning a fresh hole in the girl's heart as it went.

 

No, wait.

 

The sizzling noise had not come from the saltwater still crawling down her hibiscus shield.

 

Inoue's head flicked from side to side, eyes desperately scouring the hall. Las Noches was silent, always. Las Noches was dead. Sound equalled danger.

 

Her hands clenched around the wounded Tsubaki, not heeding his protests. When no clear enemy resented itself, she turned fully, peering out through both the intended and makeshift exits. Nothing. Nothing but the serpent-hiss of impending peril.

 

A point of light appeared on the wall behind her. It was joined by several more, quickly covering the ceiling, floor, every available surface. Laser beams grew out of the doors and crisscrossed, blocking all escape. And everywhere, long sharp needles of burning bloody light were creeping out of the stone. They were carved from a reiatsu that was the muddy red of dried blood, as if this constricting iron maiden had been used many times before.

 

Fire pricked her soles. Inoue recoiled, sandals cut through effortlessly. When she quickly ran out of ground to stand on she tried to climb the green plinth before her feet were decimated, but even that wouldn't help her for long. The crimson pins kept growing. In jerky, irregular spurts they shuddered towards her. Stab. Stab. Stab.

 

Orihime summoned her shield with as much breath as she could squeeze out of her panicked lungs. But it could only protect her on one side, not matter how all three of them strained to increase the barrier's area. They were surrounded flawlessly. If she focused ahead of her then she would be punctured from behind. When she covered her back she had to watch death's erratic approach ahead.

 

“Baigon! Hinagiku! Lily! Can't you change the shield's shape?” When each cried out tremulous negatives, she whimpered and hid her head behind her arms. The instinct would do nothing to save her life. It was merely an empty comfort. Tsubaki's tiny hands hammered against her crown, again crushed between her shaking fingers.

 

He must have hammered some sense of inspiration into her, for she abruptly ceased cowering and looked up, eyes glinting gold in sudden determination. “Tsubaki,” snapped the girl, brusque. “Join the shield.”

 

“What?!”

 

“Now.”

 

“I can't-”

 

“Right now for god's sake or we're going to die!” Her voice cracked with terror, as she realised just how young and small and feeble she really was. Trying to cross Aizen. Insane. Leave it to the superheroes, to Ichigo with his ridiculous reiatsu and Ishida with his lifetime of training. What had she seriously expected of herself? To suddenly leap in power like all her friends did? No! Of course such luck wouldn't befall the only one of them closest to the traitor and his soul-destroying marble.

 

Tsubaki faltered for the briefest moment after she released him from her clenching fist. “I probably won't be able to change back after this,” he warned her quietly, small voice barely audible over the crackling spikes.

 

“Please,” grated out Orihime, jolting away from a particularly long needle that had scorched the underside of her arm.

 

Subdued, there was a familiar flash of streetlamp yellow as Tsubaki darted between rods of claret energy and took up a position opposite his spiritual siblings. He frowned deeply, concentrating on forming and rejecting only one side of his barrier. It should be possible…

 

Three more triangles rippled into being, each latching onto one side of the original shield. Seconds before the spears made the final lunge to impale their trapped trespasser, every vivid edge fused into an impenetrable pyramid. An insistent, lyrical hum began to fill the room, as Inoue's energy calmly and confidently expanded. She laughed, brittle but genuine. The huge spikes scraped the bright shields uselessly, not even scratching them.

 

The girl felt ecstatic. They had survived. She was alive.

 

“You'll have to admit I'm part of you eventually,” growled Tsubaki darkly. She heard the words, but no admonition could kill her joy at that moment. With a shield this strong, no one would be able to stop her from destroying the Hougyoku.

 

She looked down at it with something like a smile on her face. It looked less like the deepest void of space, now, and more like an ultra-condensed storm. Perhaps its obliteration would be completed soon.

 

As it sunk in that she was succeeding, as it grew more and more clear that she could contribute to the winning of this war, her heart was rising in her chest. She felt light, even bubbly. The strain of sustaining six fey beings rejecting the universe at full power was becoming less and less of a chore. So this was confidence, resolution, freedom from doubt.

 

This was how her soul was meant to feel.

 

o)0(o

 

Ambling through the halls at a leisurely pace, Stark and Lilynette were heeding Aizen's call for all arrancars to gather at the central coliseum of Las Noches. At their own speed, of course.

 

Passing the site of Mosqueda's defeat, Lilynette caught sight of the colossal calling-card Sado Yasutora had engraved into the wall with his devil's fist. She froze.

 

“Hey, Stark!” she shouted, without taking her eyes off the forty-foot high skull. “Come look at this!”

 

Stark obeyed the Fraccion; then felt himself break into a wide, heartfelt smile. “So that guy's back, is he?”

 

They shared a moment of silent reflection.

 

“Do you remember when…”

 

“Yeah…”

 

o)0(o

 

He appeared at the door without warning. Orihime could not see him through the dense needles attempting to drill through her new Shiten Kesshun, but the punch of his livid reiatsu made her bolt upright, standing to petrified attention as she was caught red handed.

 

"Don't falter!" Lily urged her, the golden light flickering almost imperceptibly.

 

Inoue could barely draw breath. Aizen wanted her dead. And what Aizen, who had secretly conquered Hueco Mundo during his tea breaks as a Gotei captain, wanted; Aizen got.

 

The lasers that crosshatched the doorway were fragile icicles that shattered at his touch. In the same manner, he destroyed all crimson lances standing between him and the object of his wrath. His pace as he approached was soft and smooth. It belied his rage.

 

“Privaron Needle Prisonn.”

 

“Sir,” answered the former Espada curtly, reforming from the shattered spikes that littered the floor. Its mask made three white bands curving over its face, and its spiny red hair clattered gently with every movement, as if it wore a skinned porcupine in place of a scalp. Born in something close to the first generation of arrancars, Needle had been a powerhouse at the time. But the slow-moving, ambush style of its resurrección had swiftly driven it from the higher echelons of Aizen's army.

 

Stepping alongside the Hollow, said warlord lashed out in an attack too fast to track. Needle Prisonn reeled backwards, mask cracking with a loud snap and bones crunching - blood splattered.

 

“Worthless.” Aizen laid down his judgment of utter derision. “What use are soldiers weaker than I am? I did not come here to babysit Hueco Mundo!”

 

Not meeting Inoue's eyes or glancing to the arrancar now sprawled across the floor, he focused only upon the shield keeping her from certain death.

 

"Hmn. That is far stronger than before." He had been a little hasty in killing Needle Prisonn. But never mind. There would always be another Hollow.

 

Aizen reached out and brushed the surface of the force field lightly. The fault line that followed his fingertips spread until the pyramid shattered into shimmering dust. He had not even needed to push.

 

Baigon, Tsubaki, Lily and Hinagiku scattered. Orihime choked on her own fear, too paralyzed to flee. Not that she would have gotten far - he backhanded her before she could blink. The smack echoed off the walls. When it faded, the real beating commenced.

 

Aizen Sosuke's punches were swift, calculated and brutal. Although he held back the perfect amount, to ensure that his hostage remained bruised, bloody, but never broken beyond repair; there was an unnerving undercurrent of enjoyment beneath his calm expression. His emotions, always deeply hidden like the glowing fish that plumb the black oceans, were surely being vented. Because aside from smug laughter at his paltry enemies, or bitingly sarcastic affection towards his dear Espada, Sosuke never revealed anything.

 

“You said that your life belonged to me and you would obey,” he reminded her coldly, as aching heat spread through her new contusions. “Perhaps it slipped your mind.”

 

She was no longer listening. Inoue stared numbly out of blackened eyes at the corpse on the floor. Its dingy blood was still seeping out, staining her white sandals the dark red of the recently marching spikes.

 

Barely a command breathed, fractured hand tilted towards the cadaver at the slightest degree; yet two miniature angels leapt into being anyway.

 

It did not matter, that this was an enemy. She did not even consider the vicious slaughter this arrancar had almost visited upon her.

 

Orihime had gone beyond good and evil now.

 

All she saw was pain. And that was so contrary to her soul she could not stop herself from moving to heal it.

 

Aizen waited, suddenly as amiable as his false persona had ever been. It was worth a moment or two of his time… To learn whether this bizarre child could resurrect the dead.

 

o)0(o

 

Arrancar Cup!

 

Pansy vs Inanimate Object

 

In a distant grocery store, Urahara gave Tessai a troubled glance and sighed. “The Hougyoku is more dangerous than we know…”

 

In a low-lit treasure chamber, Inoue took up a karate stance. The Hougyoku was resisting her attempts to unmake it. “Your Hougyoku Fu is dangerous,” she taunted it in a deep, dramatic voice; “but you will be no match for Robohime! Haiiii- URK!”

 

A bloodstained orb rolled out of the portal to the chamber, mysteriously moving under its own power. Standing in the corridor, Aizen looked down at it condescendingly. “Your pitiful rebellion is entertaining,” he told it; “but it ends now.”

 

Moments later, his army heard the dying screams of their leader. “OH NO OH MOTHER SAVE ME OH GOD NO ARRGGHHhhh-gurgle-…”

 

It was not long before the Spirit King himself was confronting the Breakdown Sphere. “Laughable,” he replied to the silent threat; “but I shall honour your challenge.”

 

They were his last words.

 

Out in Seireitei, an orange-haired shinigami twitched on the ground. He had been trampled when the black marble passed through Soul Society on its destructive path to heaven. He raised one claw-like hand in a begging gesture. “W-why…?” croaked Ichigo.

 

Urahara popped up out of nowhere, laughing maniacally at his world dominion. A green-and-white striped crown was perched on top of his blonde hair at a stylish angle. He grinned, spinning the Hougyoku on the tip of his finger.

 

“Why, Kurosaki-kun? BECAUSE THIS WAS MY PLAN ALL ALONG! MWAHAHAHAHAAA!”

 

o)0(o

 

Chapter Notes:

The only thing in this chapter that you won't have heard before is `Shiten Kesshun' which is not too hard. Unlike Santen Kesshun meaning `triple heavenly linking shield' it just goes up one to quadruple, courtesy of Tsubaki's demotion.

 

Next chapter is the biggie. R&R!