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The Heart in My Hand	By : chayron Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 10028 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I am not making any money from writing it.

Chapter List
- 1-Part 1
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 8-Part 8
- 9-Part 9
- 10-Part 10
- 11-Part 11
- 12-Part 12
- 13-Part 13
- 14-Part 14
- 15-Part 15
- 16-Part 16
- 17-Part 17
- 18-Part 18
- 19-Part 19
- 20-Part 20
- 21-Part 21
- 22-Part 22
- 23-Part 23
- 24-Part 24
- 25-Part 25
- 26-Part 26
- 27-Part 27
- 18
- 19
- 20
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach – it belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I am not making any money from writing it.
Warnings:
1. Yaoi (male x male). Ulquiorra x Ichigo and vice versa. Other pairings?
2. Ichigo – almost 19 years old; Ulquiorra – probably a few hundred as a Hollow and about a decade or so as an Arrancar?
3. Post anime (haven’t read the manga).
4. Alternate Universe.
5. I’m not a native speaker, thus expect various language oddities.
6. I’m not very familiar with all the details in the anime, and I am also new to Bleach fandom, so I will be straying away from the canon quite frequently. I do my research but Bleach is a vast universe that is not so easy to grasp. I must admit, though, that there are also things in the anime that don’t make sense to me and I take the liberty of recreating certain parts of this universe as I see fit.
The Heart in My Hand
by chayron (lttomb@yahoo.com)
Part 19
Ulquiorra didn’t resist while he was being taken to the Sixth Division Barracks. He could have, since it was Renji Abarai alone who was accompanying him, and Ulquiorra was certain that if they fought, he would have a good chance of escaping. That, however, wasn’t Ulquiorra’s objective. Not yet, at least.
“Just imagine you’re in a resort,” Renji advised Ulquiorra helpfully, showing him to his room when they reached the barracks. He lit a torch near the door and carried it to the middle of the dark room.
Ulquiorra took a good look at the plain and rundown room he had been led into. “This is a prison cell,” he stated.
“No,” Renji denied. “You’re not in a prison.”
“Is this an interrogation room, then?”
“No, I’m telling you, it’s a resort!” Renji repeated, passing the torch to Ulquiorra. “Look around more carefully.” He walked back out and slammed the heavy door shut behind him. Then he opened the tiny slot at the top of it to take a look at Ulquiorra inside the room. The man was still standing in the middle of it, unmoving, taking the mess in. Huffing, Renji shut the slot and left. Leaving someone like Ulquiorra in there without any reiatsu dampening devices was the same as trying to confine a bear in a cardboard box. Not that it was any of Renji’s business.
Despite Abarai’s attempts to convince him otherwise, this was a cell. A very dirty cell at that. Ulquiorra glared at the piles of rubbish on the floor. There was a heap of empty bottles on the only table in the room. The two chairs in the cell were covered in smelly rags and old newspapers. Further investigation proved that there was a futon buried underneath all the rubbish. Ulquiorra prodded the flea-eaten futon and discovered five liquor bottles under it. They were full. This seemed like a hidden stash and, in general, a place for ill-bred men to gather and get drunk out of their heads.
A resort. As if.
Ulquiorra set the torch in its place near the door, lifted the futon, and gave it a good shake. It took several minutes for the dust to settle. Ulquiorra carried the futon to the other – relatively cleaner – side of the cell, kicked the trash out of the way and spread it there. He raised his head to inspect five tiny slits high in the wall. They served as windows and were no wider than his arm. Even if he climbed onto a chair, he would not be able to take a peek through them. It didn’t matter, though.
It wasn’t clear how long he was going to be kept in this cell. Frowning, Ulquiorra tapped an empty bottle with his foot. It rolled to the side. He walked to one of the chairs and shook the rags and newspapers off, then carried it to the wall and put it under the thin slit that was supposed to be one of the five windows. After grabbing a few bottles and newspapers, he returned to the chair, climbed onto it, and reached up to the slit. The papers went first, then the bottles followed, making a rather satisfying noise somewhere below, behind the walls of the cell. Ulquiorra went to get more trash.
If he had to stay here, he’d better clean this dumpster up.
- - -
Lost and unsure, Ichigo had watched Ulquiorra being taken away by Renji. Ichigo still wasn’t able to grasp the situation. It seemed that instead of criminals, they had somehow become heroes having saved the so-called day. It was too good to be true.
“Are you really alright?”
This was the third time Byakuya had asked him this and Ichigo nodded again. “Yes, yes, I’m alright.”
Yet, when Ichigo started walking in the direction that Ulquiorra had left, his knees suddenly buckled. Surprised, the red-head stared at the ground that suddenly appeared much closer to his face than he was used to; he found himself kneeling.
“You’ve been injured,” Byakuya told him, having finally realized that Ichigo hadn’t even noticed in the fervor of the fight.
At that point, the wire cord that had been strung in Ichigo all this time broke off completely and he felt an intense pain in his chest. Wincing, he inspected his chest with a soft groan. His Shinigami robe was cut, the fabric at the front slightly soaked with blood. After peeling it off his chest, it appeared that the cut wasn’t deep, the Zanpakuto having only cut through the skin.
“Um, I’m alright, I…” Ichigo started saying when two Shinigami from the Fourth Division rushed to him at Byakuya’s beckon.
“Let them do their job,” the captain cut the red-head’s protests off. For a minute, he watched the relief squad poke and prod Ichigo then started walking away. He stopped and turned to Ichigo. “And as for why you are here… We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
- - -
When Ichigo woke up, it was past midday. He shot up in his futon and took in the unfamiliar room. In a second, he relaxed – he was in the Fourth Division clinics. This was a ward of some sort. He was wearing his Shinigami robe. The front was puffed out with the bandages that a member of the relief squad had wrapped around his chest. Ichigo had protested, saying that it was only a scratch and that there were people who had sustained more serious damage, but no one had listened to him.
The red-head got to his feet and went to the basin of water near the window. Washing his face, he started sorting through yesterday’s events again. The situation didn’t seem much clearer than it was yesterday. Ichigo started when there was a knock at the door, and it opened before he could utter a word. It was Renji.
“Finally awake,” he said at the sight of Ichigo’s dripping face. “Dry yourself and let’s go have lunch.”
Ichigo opened his mouth with the intention to question him but the only thing that went past his lips was: “Alright.”
They left the room and Ichigo found himself in a long corridor. Since it seemed like Renji knew his way around, he followed the man.
“Sir! Where are you going?”
Ichigo turned around to see a member from the Fourth Division closing in. They were almost at the exit of the clinic.
“Sir, you have to rest.”
“Ahh…” Ichigo hummed at the displeasure on the small round face that had wedged itself in between him and Renji.
“He’s completely fine,” Renji informed the nurse. He proved his words by giving Ichigo’s back a few demonstrative whacks.
Ichigo’s eyes crossed in pain but he managed to squeeze out a bright albeit not a very convincing smile. “I’m totally fine. Good as new,” he confirmed.
“No one leaves the clinic without the captain’s permission, sir,” the nurse told Ichigo sternly.
“He’s absolutely f-”
“Abarai, are you trying to bypass rules again?”
Both Renji and Ichigo turned to Unohana, who had appeared in the doorway.
Renji smiled politely. “Never, Captain. Absolutely not.” There was something about Retsu Unohana that made Renji fear her more than he could ever fear Byakuya or Kenpachi.
“Good morning, Ichigo,” she greeted.
Ichigo nodded to the captain. “Good morning.”
“How do you feel?”
Ichigo checked his senses again. “I think I’m fine, thank you. Just a little hungry.”
Unohana gave a satisfied nod. “It doesn’t seem like it will have any long-lasting damage. Go have lunch and then return to change your bandages.”
With a promise to return as fast as possible, Ichigo and Renji hurried out of the clinic. Renji took him to his favorite inn, which he visited when he wanted to taste something other than the food in the Sixth Division’s canteen or, more often, when he wanted some sake. That was what he got for both of them with the first order – a bottle of sake.
“Now tell me what the hell is going on,” he demanded while filling his and Ichigo’s cups with the clear liquid.
Ichigo accepted the generous gesture by emptying the cup in one gulp. “What happened to Ulquiorra?” he asked.
“Oh, your buddy is fine,” Renji said, emptying his cup in two big, loud gulps. “I hear he’s been doing some spring cleaning. In the morning, the captain was livid since the whole square in front of the barracks was covered in trash and stank of alcohol.”
“Huh? What trash? Spring cleaning?” Ichigo muttered, confused. He grabbed a piece of smoked squid from the plate.
Renji waved it off dismissively. “Never mind that.” He pushed the plate of squid closer to Ichigo. “Eat, eat,” he encouraged with a bright smile. “So how did you appear in the Twelfth Division?”
Ichigo’s teeth tore into the squid with relish; the cup of sake had made him realize that he had indeed been dying of hunger.
“I was stargazing,” Ichigo mouthed around the squid. “I was just walking down the street when something exploded! There were Ceros flying left and right! I run in to the Twelfth Division and see two Arrancars trying to kill everyone. So I jumped in to help.”
Renji pulled the bottle of sake to his side of the table. “Screw you,” he grunted reproachfully, pulling the plate of squid closer to himself as well. “You’re abusing my generosity.” He thought for a moment and added: “My intelligence too.”
Ichigo sniggered at that. He reached out for more squid but the other red-head slapped at his hand.
“What about Ulquiorra? Did he happen to be stargazing too?”
Ichigo gave the squid a longing look and shrugged. “That I don’t know. Which one of them was Ulquiorra?”
“I’m going to hit you!” Renji threatened him. “You do realize that you will be interrogated? And there will be no sake and they won’t be as nice as I am.”
“What did he tell them?”
“Which one of them?” Renji mocked him, grinning.
Ichigo sighed. “Ulquiorra.”
“Which one of them is…?” Renji trailed off at the look on Ichigo’s face. “Hah, don’t like that, do you? Pah!” he grunted. “He’s being interrogated now. They started about an hour ago.”
“Oh.”
Ichigo reached out for the bottle and Renji glared at him. Yet, he pushed it over. This was the second time that he had seen Ichigo needing a drink. The man had gotten up to his neck this time.
- - -
When the door opened, lumps of dust stirred, some rolling away with the draft. Otherwise, though, Ichigo noted that the cell was pretty clean. The smell of dust and alcohol, though, clung heavily to the walls. The red-head was certain that Ulquiorra wasn’t overjoyed about that.
Ulquiorra was sitting on one of the chairs in the room with a bored and tired expression on his face; he had been interrogated throughout the entire day, from early morning to late evening. At the sight of the red-head, he motioned for him to sit at the opposite end of the table. Ichigo nodded, approached the table, and sat down.
“You alright?” Ulquiorra asked, eying the bandages under the red-head’s robe.
“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just a scratch. Thanks for… Well, thanks.”
Ulquiorra nodded. He suppressed the sudden urge to pat Ichigo’s the chest. He wasn’t certain why he wanted to do that: either to show support or cause pain. Very likely, it was both. He saw that Ichigo sensed his foul mood and became wary. Ulquiorra turned to stare at one of the thin windows.
Ulquiorra had come to Soul Society to make sure Mayuri ceased all possible experimentations on the material he had. He had also come here to make sure that there were no others like him. The objectives had been achieved. Yet, under other circumstances, he would have joined the two Arrancars and helped them escape. The clones had been vulnerable in their confusion after being locked in for so long, experimented on. They simply wanted revenge and freedom; Ulquiorra knew that only too well. And they had been deprived of that. Life was never fair. Ulquiorra had made the choice easily, too easily, and it baffled and annoyed him. He had practically sentenced two of his kind to death in order to save Ichigo. There were many reasons for his choice: gratitude, comradeship, sympathy. If faced with the same choice again, he’d do exactly the same, and yet, Ulquiorra was discontent. He felt like hitting Ichigo.
“How did you come up with that idea?” the red-head asked, not certain what had caused the atmosphere to tense up. “Did you have that version ready?”
Ichigo was obviously talking about him pretending not to know Aizen. Ulquiorra shrugged. “No, it came to me after your extreme bout of stupidity when you tried to pretend you were someone else.”
Ichigo squirmed uncomfortably. “That was stress.”
“So it was,” Ulquiorra agreed. “Everything turned out better than you had expected.”
Speechless, Ichigo nodded. It was simply incredible how everything had fallen into places: Renji had told everyone that he had missed Ichigo and invited him over for a friendly drink. Ulquiorra, meanwhile, had convinced everyone that he had spent all this time in Mayuri’s laboratory and in no way remembered what the other Ulquiorra had done. According to the newest version, Ulquiorra had been woken up by the other two Arrancars but, instead of joining them, had decided to defend the innocent Shinigami. The story was farfetched, but there was no reason not to believe it since Mayuri had also chosen to endorse this version. To admit that a subject as dangerous as Ulquiorra had been running loose for a month, would have added to Mayuri’s already wobbly reputation. Not to mention that everyone was already laughing at him for letting two of his experiments destroy his precious institute. On the other hand, a few Shinigami had also sustained severe injuries. This was already not a laughing matter – Mayuri was conducting unsanctioned experiments. The most important reason, though, as to why Mayuri chose not to interfere with Ulquiorra, was that he was immensely interested in the strange Shinigami and Hollow hybrid. Ichigo suspected that he hoped Ulquiorra would simply be returned into his care.
Ichigo wasn’t certain how he felt about Ulquiorra’s version. Mostly, he was relieved, but when he tried to look at everything from a different perspective, there was one thing that bugged him. Ulquiorra didn’t show any remorse, he was probably never going to. In the past, he had chosen to follow Aizen, to kill and harm others in his name. Now, he just treated this as a past fact in his previous life. As if it never happened. But it had, and there had been deaths. The moral point of view baffled Ichigo, and he felt that this was completely unfair to the relatives and friends of the deceased. On the other hand, he had thought about it before and had chosen to overlook this until they put a stop to Mayuri’s experiments. Maybe it was alright and maybe it was not. Ichigo wondered if he really had any right to decide, he who had already killed Ulquiorra. How many times did he want Ulquiorra to atone for his mistakes?
A loud knock on the door and the shutter being pushed started both of them.
“Dinner time,” a voice behind the door announced. Without waiting for an answer, the door opened to reveal a Shinigami from the Fourth Division. He carried a tray of food to the table and lowered it in front of Ulquiorra. The smell of boiled carrots and cabbage filled the cell at once. It was a stew with a handful of meatballs swimming in it. There was also a cup of tea, a small loaf of white bread, and a plate of dried meats.
“Not bad at all,” Ichigo summed up after inspecting the food.
“Help yourself,” Ulquiorra said, pushing the meats over to Ichigo.
The Shinigami, who was already leaving, turned around to see the red-head chewing on a piece of stretchy meat. The other man was stirring the stew to cool it. Wondering to himself, he closed the door.
Afraid that there might be some listening devices, they could only talk abstractly. There wasn’t much left to say, though.
Ulquiorra finished his meal and pushed it aside. It had been long time ago since he had tasted something other than a Hollow. It was not that the stew was not edible, but he wasn’t used to the exotic taste. He reached out for a strip of meat. It was some kind of animal, its spiritual energy a little higher than that of vegetables that they grew here. Yet, the taste was peculiar. He would rather hunt down a Hollow. Or have some of that delicious cake that the girl at Urahara’s made.
“When will they hold the trial?”
Ulquiorra shrugged. He had been questioned by five different Shinigami. Byakuya Kuchiki had been annoying. It was obvious that the man presumed most of what had really happened. Kuchiki had been the one to stay close to him and Ichigo when they fought and the captain must have realized that they were acting too familiar for people who had just met. Ichigo had yet to experience the severity of Kuchiki’s dignified determination. There was something about Kuchiki that made Ulquiorra want to cut his head off.
oOoOo_Six days later_oOoOo
Ulquiorra was sitting in front of forty-six men in the assembly hall underground. He was confined to a chair by a powerful kido and could barely move a muscle. The head of the trial was Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto. The current Central 46 was a laughable replica of the old government. After Aizen had assassinated all the former members, the new Central 46 was hurriedly assembled by Yamamoto himself. Ulquiorra was certain that all strings were in Yamamoto’s hands now. However, if anything, it might have made the policy in Soul Society more flexible and open to innovations. Yet, it was of no importance to Ulquiorra.
The jury members had made themselves familiar with earlier documented cases in advance and were now calling in the witnesses of the recent events. Bored, Ulquiorra had waited for Ichigo to show up, but he never came, the Central having probably decided that a Human had no business in attending Soul Society’s trials.
Ulquiorra, though, saw many other familiar faces. For about two hours, he listened to the witnesses answering questions about him. Some hated or feared him, some were indifferent and just stated plain facts. After having heard all the testimonies, the jury had half an hour’s break. All of them filed out of the hall to confer in the room adjacent to it, and Ulquiorra was left alone. He tentatively touched upon the kido confining him to the chair. It was masterfully done but not invincible.
Ulquiorra wondered if he would be sent to prison and how long it would last in that case. He was amused to think that maybe he would be placed in a cell adjacent to Aizen’s. He wasn’t certain if it would be a good or bad thing to spend hundreds of years with Aizen. He did want to see Aizen, since, despite what he had told Ichigo, he still could not help feeling as if he owed the man. Owed him at least one last visit.
When Central 46 returned, Ulquiorra was granted the right to speak. Interrupted and spurred by many questions that he had already answered, Ulquiorra repeated his version. Since their faces were covered, he couldn’t tell whether the judges appeared to believe him or not. Only Yamamoto sat in the middle with his face uncovered, and he was staring at him skeptically.
Ulquiorra’s interrogation didn’t last long, and the Central started to confer again. This time, they stayed in the same hall as Ulquiorra, ignoring his presence, since there was now nothing left that could change their minds. Finally, one of the judges stood up to pronounce a sentence.
“Ulquiorra Cifer, it has been decided that you are guilty of your crimes against Soul Society,” he announced. “You are sentenced to be exiled to Hueco Mundo.”
Ulquiorra thought that if Ichigo were here, he would have died laughing. The judge’s face, though, showed that he had more to say.
“Due to increasing concern about unsanctioned experiments and the damage they have brought, Mayuri Kurosuchi is now obliged to present a monthly report to Central 46.”
Ulquiorra didn’t like how that sounded. This was just a pretext for Central 46 to get their hands on the newest discoveries and, more likely, to induce them. Yet, this didn’t concern him anymore.
- - -
When he left the premises of Central 46, Ulquiorra saw quite a big crowd gathered at the gate. Most of the faces were familiar to Ulquiorra from the night at the Research Institute. He guessed that the rest of them were the relatives of people he had killed or simply gawkers. Ulquiorra cast his eyes over the crowd. He couldn’t see Mayuri but he easily recognized Ichigo’s and Renji’s red heads. There were also a few captains amongst the gathered. When Ulquiorra passed the gate, he was met with silence, the crowd staring at him.
Ichigo was the one who approached him first. “Well?” he asked apprehensively. Seeing that no one was accompanying Ulquiorra and he was walking freely, the red-head presumed that he had at least managed to avoid a death sentence. Then he leaned in closer to Ulquiorra to whisper, “Did you just kill everyone in there?”
Ulquiorra’s eyebrows rose. He thought that maybe that was what it looked like and that was why everyone was quiet, watching him with nervous dread. “Maybe,” he said just as quietly to Ichigo. “The only thing that is certain is that I was found guilty of my crimes against Soul Society.”
Uncertain whether he was serious or not, Ichigo watched him with suspicion. “And?” he prompted. “What’s the punishment?”
“I am to be banished from Soul Society.”
A little afraid, Ichigo asked hesitantly, “To where?”
“To Hueco Mundo.”
“To where?” Ichigo wanted to make sure he had heard right.
“To Hueco Mundo,” Ulquiorra repeated. “Yes,” he nodded before the red-head could ask him again, “to Hueco Mundo. I am to leave within three hours.”
“Well… well…” Ichigo fumbled for words, astonished. “Are you bullshitting me?”
“Doing what to you?”
“Lying,” the red-head explained. “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not. They exiled me to Hueco Mundo.”
“What’s the catch?”
Ulquiorra shrugged. “I will probably find out once I return.”
Confused, Ichigo scratched the back of his head.
Renji, who had heard the exchange, looked from one to the other. “Doesn’t this call for celebration?” he asked, confused by the gloomy faces.
“Ehh…” Ichigo drawled. “I suppose it does. I’m just…”
“There’s nothing sake can’t fix!” Renji said, wrapping his arms around Ichigo’s shoulders and tugging him in the direction he presumed his favorite inn was. He nearly ran into a wall of white coat that was his captain.
“I am certain you have duties to attend to,” Byakuya said. “I am still waiting for that report about you having lost your Zanpakuto. It’s long overdue.”
Ichigo gasped. “You lost Zabimaru?”
“Are you blind, idiot?” Renji spat, patting at his side where his Zanpakuto hung. “I only lost it for two hours. Nothing happened, alright? Safe and sound.”
The look on Kuchiki’s face made Renji shut up since he realized he was only making his situation worse. Quickly and politely excusing himself, Renji hurriedly jogged off to the barracks to write his report. Byakuya motioned for Ichigo and Ulquiorra to follow him, away from the crowd.
“I am certain that you are the dangerous subject that escaped the Twelfth Division premises a month ago,” Kuchiki told Ulquiorra once they were walking down the street. He turned to Ichigo. “I am also certain of the fact that it was you who helped him get to the Human World.”
“Have you got any proof?” Ulquiorra asked. He grunted when Ichigo elbowed him in the side.
Byakuya glared at him. “Do you want me to have? I can certainly get some: Shunsui remembers seeing Ichigo here about a month ago, not to mention the bizarre reports from Rukia and other reports about Hollows escaping Karakura Town.” He stopped walking, making the other two men pause as well. “I don’t know how much, if anything, you remember,” he told Ulquiorra. “But keep in mind that I will be watching your every move. And you…” Kuchiki turned to Ichigo. He thought about what to say to the red-head then just left it at that and walked away; from the experience with Renji, he knew that it was pointless to say anything.
It was uncharacteristic for Byakuya to let lies slide just like that, and Ichigo stared at his back in both mistrust and confusion. Normally, Kuchiki would have reported everything he suspected and demanded punishment. Then Ichigo thought that maybe, just as him, Byakuya believed that Ulquiorra had already paid for his mistakes with his death. He could not help but feel there was another motive, though.
“Well, you’ve got about three hours,” Ichigo told Ulquiorra. “What do you want to do?”
“I have some business to attend to,” Ulquiorra informed him. “It should not take long. Then we head back to the Human World.”
“Um. Alright. Let’s meet at the West Gate.”
Uncertain, Ichigo watched Ulquiorra jump onto one of the walls fencing the street and disappear in a series of flash-steps. He had a bad feeling about this.
TBC
- 18
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The Heart in My Hand