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The Silence Between	By : KaiBlueOtaku Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 3307 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The talented Tite Kubo is the owner of Bleach, and all its characters. I am merely borrowing them to tell my story. I own only my plot and ideas. I receive no financial compensation for my writing.

Chapter List
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A/N: Slow Burn here, friends. Could you expect anything else from these two, honestly? This will take a long time to develop into what I want it to be, so I’ll need everyone to be patient on it. I may wander away from this fic many times before coming back to it, though I have intentions of finishing it some day. I just don’t want to rush it. The allure of this piece for me is unraveling these two slowly, and finding how the loose ends will fit together.

                If this unusual pairing strikes your fancy, and you want to see more of this fic, please know that reviews always draw my attention back to stories that may have fallen from the front of my mind. Sometimes, if they are substantial reviews, they encourage me to consider that piece for my next update. Otherwise, I just keep chasing the rabbits that dart across my path, because I am easily distracted at times. I will eventually get back to unfinished pieces, though, or at least I have all intentions of doing so. Who knows what the future holds…

WWWWWWWWWW
                Light. Sound. Sensation. It came in waves and flashes, increasing now as an awareness of time returned, and a realization of that same time passing. Awareness of “self” was next, and he began to wonder what had become of him. Memories and fragments of memories began to return, and he was able to know the sound he was hearing was the wind, ambling across the plains of Hueco Mundo, the only home he had knows his entire life.

                No. Not life. That word did not suit him. He was not alive, and had not been for a long time. Maybe he once had been, but that was long ago, a time beyond the reach of his shattered memories.

                Death. He had died. Had he not? He remembered her face, that woman… He knew he had fought a powerful enemy, and had lost.

                Lost. Found. He had found something… But what? Something he could not see. Something in that hand of hers, stretched out to him across the distance, as the damage from his internal organs took its final toll on his wasted body, and he scattered as ashes on the wind.

                Body. Organs. Heart.

                Yes, heart.

                Darkness again.

WWWWWWWWWW

                How long he swam in that state of half-remembered dreams and almost forgotten memories, he could not be sure. But when he finally woke and realized he had a body again, he was shocked, although it was not evidenced on his face. His emotions never made it further than his eyes, and seldom that far.

                He was able to stand, though shakily, and cast his eyes around him. He was alone on the vast plains. He knew he was in a weakened state, and stumbled, wondering what to do. This strange and unexpected occurrence left him at a loss. The amount of damage done to his internal organs had been irreparable, had it not? He had always been told as much by Lord Aizen.

                Lord Aizen. He sensed weakly around with his Pesquisa, but could not find the presence of the ruler of Hueco Mundo. He grimaced at the pain that pricked his every nerve as he tried to move. He owed Aizen his very existence, as an Arrancar. It had been Aizen who had found him, enmeshed and melded as one with the crystalline tree, and had roused him and offered him purpose and meaning to his existence. It had also been Aizen who had unified the Vasto Lorde of this realm under his banner, and created an unstoppable force of Arrancar lieutenants, the Espada, using the mysterious power of the Hogyoku.

                But creatures that they were, not a one of them was lacking in the basic instinct of self-preservation. He knew that in his weakened state, he would be of no use to the man, and would just as easily be disposed of again and replaced. He had seen as much in Lord Aizen’s dealings with the Sexta, Grimmjow.

                Ulquiorra weighed his options. They were few, and none of them were ideal. He could try to return to the palace of Las Noches and hope that his loyalty and sacrifice would be honored by Lord Aizen, and that he would be healed and restored to his previous position. He knew the likelihood of that was very slim. He could search for another tree, and spend a few decades or more enmeshed with it as he slowly healed and restored to his former power levels. That sounded unsatisfying to him, for some reason, after all that had happened to him since those days long before.

                His final option was the least appealing, and unfortunately, also the most likely to obtain a desirable result. With a resigned sigh, he mustered all the strength he was able to, and drew his finger across the space of this realm, opening a Garganta, and forcing his feet to move forward one unsteady step in front of the other, dragging his broken body through the opening before he became overwhelmed with the expenditure of his energy, and collapsed. He felt wooden floorboards under his body and a shadow swam over him before he slipped back into darkness.

WWWWWWWWWW

                Nova stretched, waking from his slumber. He ran his fingers haphazardly through his shock of messy red hair, then pulled on his hood and rose from the futon. He wondered idly where Lirin and Kurodo were at. The other two Mod Souls were often out and about town for days on end before returning home, probably bothering that sweet girl Orihime Inoue, or the loud young man, Kurosaki Ichigo, he decided. As for him, Nova preferred to hang around the Urahara Shoten and make himself useful to Kisuke Urahara, the shop keeper. Kisuke had other persons in his employ; Tessai, Jinta and Ururu, and in truth, Kisuke probably didn’t need the extra hands, but Nova preferred to be as helpful as possible. He owed the shopkeeper everything for this gigai he had been provided, and while he knew he could never repay the generosity, he realized it was not expected of him. He understood that most of the others considered him somewhat ‘less’ than human, which indeed, was the fact of it; but that did not mean he was not sentient, possessing of emotions and self-determination.

                He also had become cognizant of the fact that while in his ‘plushie’ form, he was viewed almost as a pet of sorts. This may have suited a loud-spoken fellow like Kon, who just wanted to be heard, but Nova was anything but like Kon. Nova was quiet, painfully shy. He had come to realize that what he wished more than anything, was to be seen on equal terms to the others; not as ‘less than,’ not as ‘just’ a Mod Soul. He greatly desired to be understood and appreciated for who he truly was. That was a complicated bag to unpack, because he knew that with his short life up until this point, he hadn’t really had a chance to get to know even for himself who that was.

                So it was to this end that Nova spent his days at the Shoten; making himself useful where he could, while quietly meditating on the deeper mysteries of ‘self,’ and what comprised those qualities that made him uniquely ‘him.’

                He pulled on his soft-soled boots and padded silently across the wooden floors of the Shoten in the bright dawn light. Nova had always been an early riser, which suited him just fine. He preferred the quality of the light, that time of the morning, and the peaceful, gentle quiet that fell on his soul in those hours. The shop keeper often teased him about being their “Resident Ninja,” not only because of the hood he always wore, which obscured most of his face, but also because of his uncanny ability to move in complete silence across the old, creaky wooden floors of the Shoten. Kisuke had confided in him once that if anyone had to be an early riser, he was glad it was Nova, because the Mod Soul could be up for hours and hours, going about his day, and never once disturb the slumber of any of the others.

                It was just how Nova liked it. He didn’t wish to be a bother or a burden to anyone. He was just happy to be helpful, and in the presence of others. Sometimes their loudness bothered him, but he never complained. He knew it was his own quietness which was the exception to the rule, and the more uncommon of the two, and so he learned to tolerate the noise. It was one of the nicest things about Chad; that man appreciated the simplicity of just being with someone, and never felt the need to fill the space with talk. Most people didn’t understand the deeper closeness that could be found between two souls when they didn’t feel it was necessary to fill the space between them with words and noise. In the silence, there was a fertile ground where there flourished an intimacy that transcended spoken things, and a communion of their very beings, in which two souls could brush against one another in a deep state of peace and satisfaction.

                Nova grabbed the broom and slid the shoji door open, intending to sweep the front porch, but was stopped cold in his tracks. There, across the few steps leading up to the porch, was sprawled a body.

                He approached cautiously, though he could sense that the being was unconscious, adrift in unknown dreams. His lithe frame crouched low over the pale form, green eyes scanning, taking in details.

                It appeared to be a Hollow of some kind, though he assumed it must have been a Vasto Lorde or Arrancar, because of the highly humanoid form. The broken, ridged half-helmet which covered the left side of the being’s head had a curved horn protruding from it, which at the moment was digging into the dirt, as the being was sprawled down the stairs, head lying on the ground. He appeared to be thin and weak, possibly malnourished, although Nova considered his pallor to be maybe more of an unnatural skin tone than a characteristic of his malady. He had dark teal-colored lines running from his eyes down his cheeks, like tear-stains.

                His clothing was ragged and filthy, blood-stained and barely enough to keep him covered decently. Nova wondered at this, because the body appeared to be undamaged, aside from the overall poor condition of his health. He touched the garment and realized it was not ordinary clothing, but rather an extension of the creature’s reiatsu, at which point he became alarmed. This fellow must have been in some sad shape indeed if this was all the better he could manage to clothe himself with his own reiatsu, Nova concluded, and stood, retreating calmly but quickly to the interior of the shop, and knocking on the door to Urahara’s private quarters.

                A weary groan met his ears, and he waited patiently as he finally heard shuffling across the creaky floorboards, and the shoji door rolled open to reveal the sleep-disheveled shop keeper, rubbing his eyes as he tugged his yukata around him, fiddling with the tie to be sure he wasn’t exposing himself. “Oh, it’s you,” Kisuke mumbled with a yawn. “What time is it?”

                “There’s a problem,” Nova said, and watched as the man before him snapped immediately to attention. He swiftly grabbed his green and white striped bucket hat off the hook on the wall and collected Benihime, his Zanupakto, hidden in the disguise of a wooden cane, before following Nova out onto the porch.

                Kisuke stood and stared, bewildered, at the body on the steps. He scratched at the meager stubble on his chin, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to do. We can’t leave him here, but we can’t very well bring him inside, he’s dangerous… What in the hell is he doing here anyway?” Kisuke prodded the Arrancar gently with the crook of his cane, and when there was no response, he shrugged and sighed. “Alright Nova, grab one of his arms. We’ll take him inside.” They dragged the limp body across the porch and into the shop, continuing down the hallway toward the back rooms. Kisuke paused and knocked urgently on a door as they passed, calling, “Tessai! Meet me in my lab, please,” which was countered with the nondescript affirmation of a person who had just been forcibly roused from a pleasant sleep.

                Nova and Kisuke wrestled the listless body onto the exam table, and were busy arranging the limbs in some semblance of a comfortable and natural position as Tessai entered the room moments later. He stilled just two steps inside the doorway when his eyes fell on the body. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he looked to the pale-haired shop keeper. “Kisuke…” he hissed in warning.

                “I know who it is,” his employer responded, quick to cut him off. Nova wondered indeed who it was, and just how dangerous he must be to warrant this degree of caution in both of them. “Why do you think I called you at this unreasonable hour? Put some Bakudo on him, please. You can see how weak he is, so it won’t take much to restrain him, but I don’t want to take any chances…”

                Tessai’s reluctance was apparent, but he began to chant the incantation, moving his hands in complicated gestures. Suddenly, black ribbons shot out of thin air, encircling the unconscious body in thick straps of reiatsu bonds. “Be careful,” Tessai warned, turning from the room, yawning as he returned to his own chambers in hopes of catching another hour or two of shut-eye before he would have to be up to help run the shop for the day. “Call if you need anything else.”

                “Will do!” Kisuke chirped with a smile, and busied himself preparing a number of vials in a rack. “This is a very valuable specimen,” Kisuke confided in Nova, who was observing from a stool in the corner which he had settled himself upon. “It’s not every day one of the Espada drops on my doorstep. And in such a manageable condition, too! I’m sure we can keep him subdued long enough for me to find out plenty about his abilities…”

                Kisuke droned on and on excitedly, but Nova tuned him out. He was thinking. Espada? So, that explains it. No wonder I didn’t recognize what he was. This is one of Aizen’s lieutenants. What could have brought him here? Why is he in this pathetic condition? What could have happened to him? As Nova watched Kisuke take electronic readings and skin scrapings and hair samples and nail filings from the unconscious Arrancar, he began to feel a strange emotion. Pity, he finally realized, and was shocked. How could he pity this dangerous creature, someone who had probably hurt his friends? As he saw the scientist go about his work though, he began to wonder if this particular Espada had ever harmed any of his friends. This, in turn, eventually became the question of, Why did he care about those people at all? They did not see him as an equal; could he truly consider them ‘friends’ in the manner which they called one another that term? He began to wonder about the individual lying helpless on the table, and what story he would have to tell, if he ever woke up. Maybe it was just the fact that things here at the Shoten were very predictable these days, and this was something so different; but something about the Arrancar intrigued Nova.

                Quite a few hours had passed, Urahara experimenting, Nova watching silently, one leg drawn up as he perched on the stool. Finally, Kisuke laid down a sheaf of documents and looked at the Mod soul in the corner. “Do you want to help me?” Nova hopped off the stool and stood attentively, ready to be of assistance. The shop keeper eyed the body on the table dubiously, and then pursed his mouth in displeasure. “I have to attend to the shop, and I’m waiting on test results to process before I do anything else here. Can you just… Take care of him for me? Watch him, you know? If he wakes up, or tries anything crazy, come and get me, or trap him in your dimension if he gets too rowdy, or breaks his bonds. Can you handle that?”

                Nova resumed his roost on the stool with a nod, a little disheartened. He had hoped to be of some actual use today, not just babysitting a coma patient, but he decided that if Kisuke really felt that the Espada was enough of a threat to require a guard, then he was as good a choice anyone, and maybe better than some. Being a Mod Soul in a gigai did have its advantages, among them being his durability. In the event that his captive escaped his bonds and managed to damage Nova, his gigai could always be repaired. As long as his Gikongan (*1) was not damaged, Nova was essentially invincible, although he could be incapacitated if his gigai became too strained or severely injured. Much better that he keep watch over the Espada than Jinta or Ururu, who were human, and only children after all, and might be mortally wounded if their unwilling guest became uncooperative.

                There were no signs of the Arrancar rousing though, and Nova sat watching the unconscious form intently for any signs of life. He was not dead, because he could be observed breathing shallowly, and his form had reiatsu attached to it, whereas if it was merely a corpse lying on the table, that would not be the case.

                But ‘life’ was not entirely the correct term either, Nova mused to himself. The reiatsu signature of the being on the table fell into an uneasy middle-ground that was more accurately classified as ‘undead,’ although Nova smirked a little when he considered the usual connotation of that term. The Arrancar was assuredly not a zombie, although it was hard to tell what they would find when the being awoke, if indeed he ever did. Even someone such as Nova, with no formal scientific training, could sense that this creature was damaged and weak, existing far below its usual ability or limit. This creature was indeed powerful; or at least, had been at one time. It was a sad shadow now of a former glory that may have crowned it, he knew.

                He saw what appeared to be a tattoo peeking out from between the straps of the reiatsu bindings, on the left side of his chest. It looked like the number ‘4,’ and Nova wondered at the significance of the number, as well as the hole that passed clean through the being’s upper chest.

                He knew that when the wandering soul of a dead person did not cross over to the afterlife, the Shinigami were supposed to usher it over using the Konso, or Soul Burial. When that did not happen, their hearts would be completely taken over by the despair that prevented them from crossing on their own, and they would begin to transform into a Hollow.   Hollow had holes instead of hearts, and their white, skull-like masks were formed from the remnants of their heart. Hollow ate other Hollow to survive, and grow stronger.

                Some Hollow had the potential to evolve into increasingly powerful forms, and that was what he saw before him; the Apex predator of the Hollow world, the Espada. Only this was a pale reflection of a predator, like seeing an ancient trained and toothless lion, muzzled, declawed, on a leash, performing tricks at a circus. There was no majesty or beauty or strength to be seen here, only tragedy, a sad reminder of something that once was.

                Nova wondered what was the despair was that must have taken him long ago when he had first become a Hollow. He was sure that the Espada would not remember, if he ever woke. He knew it was uncommon for Hollow to recall their lives as humans, except sometimes at the moment of their passing, when their soul was cleansed by a Shinigami’s zanupakto, and they gained a moment of clarity as they crossed over into the afterlife.

                He examined the body more closely. The lower lip of the Espada was black, as were his fingernails and toenails, but this appeared to be a natural pigmentation as opposed to something which was applied to the surface of the body. The same was true of the teal-colored tear-stains which extended down his cheeks. The rest of his skin was white. Not simply ‘pale,’ as Nova himself was, but purely white; the color of alabaster, and every bit as smooth and flawless. His appearance was very peculiar, no doubt about that.

                Nova stretched out a hand and hesitantly touched the arm nearest to him. It felt warm, which surprised him somewhat. He had expected this strange, undead creature to feel cold and hard, but that was not at all the case. His flesh was every bit as warm as his own, and Nova cocked his head for a moment, wondering if this creature in such a pathetic state of disrobe, felt cold.

                He knew that an ordinary blanket would be of no use to the spiritual being, and so he rooted around in a cabinet beneath the exam table. Fortunately, this being the Urahara Shoten, specializing in Soul Society merchandise and crossover technologies, he found what he was searching for in short order. He drew a pale blue blanket from the cupboard, and spread it over the bound form. The reiatsu infused weave of the blanket would hold in his spiritual pressure, which was the basic equivalent of keeping him warm, especially considering the ragged state of his appearance. Any help he could get at this point was a good thing.

                Nova sat back again on the stool and watched the unconscious Arrancar. Slowly, his weary body seemed to relax, falling slack against the kido bonds as he stopped hemorrhaging reiatsu and slipped into a deeper, more restful slumber.

                The Mod Soul was strangely satisfied at this. It seemed to him that, even though the Espada might technically be an enemy, there was no need to be inhumane to him. He hoped that he wouldn’t have to justify his actions to the shop keeper when he returned; he didn’t like the idea of possibly having to angle that he was ‘prolonging the viability of the test subject,’ when all he was doing was trying to make him comfortable. He suddenly worried that perhaps this simple act of kindness on his part might interfere with some of Urahara’s experiments, but he pushed the thought away. He would deal with that if it became an issue. Urahara had not given him explicit instructions to not provide the Espada with basic comforts, and he had been told to “take care of him.” That was left fairly open-ended in regards to interpretation, he decided.

                He wondered what the Espada would eat, when he awoke. Hollow ate other Hollow, so was that true also of Arrancar? The ambient reiatsu concentration in the World of the Living was much lower than that of Soul Society or Hueco Mundo, so not only would he heal slower here, but his reiatsu needs would be exponentially higher.

                Kisuke walked in just then. “Ah, you found him a blanket, good,” he said, and Nova breathed a sigh of relief that his decision wasn’t being scrutinized. The shop keeper went over to a scrolling pile of paper that had been slowly ticking out of one of the devices nearby, and pulled up a length of the paper up, running it through his fingers as he examined the data, humming to himself. “Yes, he seems to be stabilizing, I would imagine he’ll be awake by evening.” He began bustling around again, checking test tubes and monitors, shaking his head in wonder. “His regeneration is remarkable,” Kisuke muttered to himself, then turned to Nova. “This is Ulquiorra Cifer, the Cuatra Espada, and the fourth most powerful Espada from Aizen’s army. I wonder what in the world brought him here… And what I’m going to do with him once he wakes up.”

                The shop keeper seemed assured that the Espada would wake, and this was a relief to Nova. The idea of him lying unconscious indefinitely, bound on the table, a guinea pig for the scientist, made his stomach churn. Something like that shouldn’t be kept as a pet, he thought, and then sadly realized the implication that he had resigned himself to such a fate.

                “Hold his eye open for me, will you?” Urahara asked, a flashlight and a bottle of eye drops in his hands. Nova’s brows knit in concern; he didn’t want to be implicated in any of the experiments on the helpless creature. Urahara noted his trepidation. “Don’t worry, it’s just something to dilate his pupils, it won’t hurt him. I’d like to get a look in the back of his eyes.”

                Reluctantly, Nova pulled the snow white eyelids open, and his breath caught in his throat. The eye they had shielded was the most magnificent and unexpected shade of green. His pupils were slits, like a cat’s eye, and Nova considered how appropriate it had been that he had likened this being to a lion as a predator. His own eyes were green, but they were a softer color, like sea foam; nothing like the startling intensity of these.

                Suddenly the pupil dilated, and Nova realized that Urahara had not put in the drops yet. The eye twitched and fixed on Nova’s face, a mixture of confusion and panic flickering briefly in those liquid depths before the other eye snapped open as well, and the Espada let out a gasp and thrust himself up into a sitting position.

                “Oh, you’re awake!” Kisuke lilted cheerfully, and patted Ulquiorra on the shoulder as the blanket fell away. “Welcome back to the World of the Living, Cifer-san.”

                He began to gather his wits, and glanced around, taking in his surroundings, finally resting his gaze on the shop keeper. “You are Urahara,” he said in a monotone, and Kisuke nodded in confirmation. Ulquiorra sighed and laid back again, seemingly wearied from his outburst. Nova adjusted the blanket back up to his chin, and Ulquiorra narrowed his green eyes suspiciously at him. “Who are you?”

                “Oh, that’s just Nova,” Kisuke said dismissively. “He’s a Mod Soul, he lives here at the shop, and helps out. I have a lot of questions for you, Cifer-san…”

                Kisuke’s words were lost on Ulquiorra though, because he was intently observing the man to his right. At those words, Oh, that’s just Nova, he had broken their intense eye contact, and had looked away sadly. Ulquiorra continued to gaze at the Mod Soul, hoping to recapture those gentle, minty-hued and expressive eyes again. Something about those eyes made Ulquiorra’s chest ache, and he wondered distractedly if there had been an injury of some sort to him on his way here.

                It was strange; the young man wore a hooded mask, Ulquiorra observed, and he wondered if perhaps he was scarred, or if Mod Souls had strange physical attributes, such as the Tres Espada, Tia Hallibel had been subject to. Her Hollow mask covered the lower portion of her face, and because of that reason, the collar of her Arrancar jacket was very high, standing up and obscuring the bone mask from view.

                Shockingly red hair peeked out of the opening of the mask, and that was all the more that Ulquiorra was able to discern of his face. He looked him over, and decided that the young man was very thin under his concealing outfit, which didn’t show an inch of skin aside from his hands and eyes. He seemed slender and lithe, but not very well-muscled. He glanced up at Ulquiorra inspecting him so intently, and the Arrancar could see the hint of a blush tingeing his face through the opening of the hooded mask. Nova retreated to the stool in the corner, and zipped his hood closed, leaving the Cuatra Espada astonished. “Do you not speak?” he asked, perplexed by the unusual behavior of the man. Nova pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, tucking his hands into his armpits.

                “He’s the quiet type,” Kisuke supplied with a chuckle. “Should be just your speed, if any of my knowledge of you is accurate. Now, please do tell me, why did Nova find you unconscious on the steps of my shop this morning?”

                Ulquiorra watched the Mod Soul, trapped inside his self-inflicted isolation. This was the man who had first stumbled upon him in his weakened state, he realized. He could have probably easily killed the Arrancar, at that point, but he had not. What could have motivated him? Urahara would surely have known what he was dealing with, but Ulquiorra knew nothing about Mod Souls, and wasn’t sure in return if this man was aware what he had been dealing with when he had found him.

                “Self preservation instinct,” Ulquiorra admitted, his voice wavering momentarily. “I was weak. Prey for lesser Hollow, in that condition. I have no desire to die, although I also have no purpose to live at this point, unless in service to Aizen.”

                Kisuke’s eyes narrowed. “Aizen was defeated, Ulquiorra.”

                The shock that flickered across the Cuatra’s face was undeniable, but his expression instantly became unreadable again. “So. Perhaps you plan to kill me, then.”

                Kisuke leveled a serious gaze at the Espada, who had turned his attention back to the Mod Soul in the corner. Nova had unzipped half of his mask, and was peeking shyly out. He appeared uncomfortable under the intense stare of the Arrancar, but he unzipped the rest of his mask and fixed his eyes on the floor, looking up from time to time, meeting those mesmerizing feline orbs. He wasn’t sure what the look signified; it seemed an impossible combination of interest and contempt, but he felt somehow that it was unfair to cut himself off from the being. Ulquiorra seemed to be trying to make sense of his surroundings, and for some reason, was especially perplexed by the Mod Soul.

                “I don’t plan to kill you, Cifer-san,” Kisuke said, observing the silent exchange between the two beings with interest. Neither one of them seemed quite sure what to do about the other, and Kisuke wasn’t sure for himself if it was amusing or painful to watch. “You’re a free man now, no longer under Aizen’s rule. You have self-determination, unlike a mindless Hollow. If you can behave yourself and not cause trouble for Soul Society, I think we can overlook the past and see about finding you a productive role in society somewhere.”

                “Free?” Ulquiorra seemed confused by the term. “We were not enslaved by him. True, he created us by the power of the Hogyoku, but we owe him no servitude. Any debt or fealty I may have owed to him for that, has been satisfied in my death.”

                “When you die, you mean?” Kisuke asked.

                Ulquiorra glanced at the shop keeper momentarily. “No. I died. My regenerative abilities appear to have been beyond what I was led to believe by Aizen.” He turned back to Nova, studying him carefully. “I do not pretend to know his motives in misleading me regarding my powers, but the man was dishonest and self-serving to the core, more ruthless that the most heartless of us Hollow. Some of us are capable of loyalty and honor. He had none of those abilities, and was remorseless in cutting down his comrades and subordinates alike.”

                Kisuke crossed his arms, listening with interest. “You mean to say that you didn’t approve of his methods?”

                “It was not my place to say,” Ulquiorra stated. “I owed him everything, my purpose for being and the majority of my power was due to him.”

                “You’re free to speak your mind here,” Kisuke urged him. “You don’t owe him a debt any more.”

                “I will owe you then, if you spare me,” Ulquiorra said, still staring at Nova curiously. He was getting the impression that even though he was conversing with the shop keeper, that the silent gaze of this so-called Mod Soul was speaking to him more loudly. He was beginning to feel strange, and an unfamiliar sensation came over him, causing him to break the eye contact finally. He heard the man sigh in relief as he looked back toward the man to his left. “You will own me, if you free me.”

                Kisuke pursed his lips, tapping his white folded fan against them in thought. “I don’t want to own you, like a slave. You’re a living being, not a piece of property.”

                “My life was forfeit when I chose to come to your shop,” Ulquiorra insisted. “I chose to live, instead of being fodder for lesser Hollow. You could easily have ended my life, in my weakened state. By saving my life, you have purchased it.”

                Kisuke shook his head. “You have an unshakeable sense of honor, Cifer-san. I can’t argue with you. So be it, then. Your life was purchased by the one who chose to save to.” He pointed his cane at Nova, who froze, eyes widened. “He becomes your property, Nova. I task you with his care, and making sure he stays out of trouble.”

                In a flicker of black and red reiatsu, Nova vanished. Ulquiorra choked. “Where did he go?”

                Kisuke waved his fan dismissively. “Ah, that’s Nova for you. He has a teleportation ability, and his own private dimension. He probably retreated into there. That was a little much for me to put on him, honestly. He’s so sensitive… But I have other things to do; I can’t be babysitting you around Karakura Town all day long…”

                Ulquiorra was indignant at the insinuation that he required a babysitter, but he chose not to comment on it. Instead, he changed the subject by asking a question. “What is a ‘Mod Soul’?”

                “Essentially, an artificial soul, placed in a gigai, which is an artificial body, such as I will make for you.”

                Ulquiorra was mortified. That man was not alive? Or, was he alive? He pondered on this for a moment. “He is a created being?”

                “Yes, exactly.”

                He is like me, Ulquiorra realized. His curiosity after the young man only grew at this knowledge. He remembered the look in Nova’s eyes when the shop keeper had first introduced him, and realized that, whether the others knew it or not, Nova did not feel equal to them. It is the way that Aizen treated us, Ulquiorra thought. As disposable. As ‘less-than’ himself. He knew no one here probably meant this, but it was not something so easy for someone to understand, who had never themselves been subject to such treatment. He instantly felt a kinship with this sad, quiet young man, and he wondered when he would return, and if he would speak to him, eventually.

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*1-Gikongan- Also known as an Artificial Soul Pill, or Soul Candy. A small, green orb, containing the essence of a Mod Soul. When swallowed, it will force the soul of a human out of its body or gigai, and the Mod Soul will take control.

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A/N: Ah, I love this. It’s unfolding nicely! A little faster than I had planned, believe it or not, but it’s okay. Just know that this will be a very slow piece, lots of introspective monologues. Please read and review if you liked it, and give me some feedback on this. Thank you! Speak to you all again soon!

~KaiBlueOtaku
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The Silence Between