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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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WARNINGS: Graphic violence, some language
                A/N: I received a “Guest” review on the first chapter with the feedback (over on FanFiction) that the reader really liked this story, which was unusual because they don’t usually like OC’s. Nova is not an OC! He was from the anime-only arcs, and if someone got hung up on the spelling, I’m sorry- I prefer the Romanji “Nova” opposed to the probably more accurate “Noba.” But he is NOT an OC.

                This is a bit shorter than I’d like, sorry about that as well; I’ve had a lot going on lately, and I just needed to post chapter and get my update out. No promises when or what I’ll update next, but I’m considering looking at a different existing chapter piece, I think I need a change of pace again. I love this, but it’s not where I’m at right now. So, maybe TTTBU or VoP.

Please enjoy. Speak to you soon,

~KaiBlueOtaku
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                Nova stood trembling in the darkness of his personal dimension. Why would the shop keeper do something so insane? Of course, the man was a little cracked at times, although genius, so maybe that would account for his actions; but it still didn’t make them any easier to cope with at those moments. Had Urahara actually given him the Arrancar? What an absurd concept, he thought, to own another person.

                Whether that ‘person’ was an Arrancar or not, was of no difference to Nova. This was adding insult to injury, he decided. Not only was he himself treated like a pet, but now this poor being was being ‘given’ to him like a piece of property, and Ulquiorra clearly expected as much. Nova wondered what horrors the Espada must have had to endure in Hueco Mundo at the hands of men like Aizen, to be so accepting of such a fate.

                Then again, he realized, he himself was all-too readily accepting of the same fate, and he had never been explicitly abused or neglected by anyone…

                Nova sighed. There was no use in arguing with the shop keeper; if the Espada became troublesome, there was always the possibility that someone from Soul Society would just come and dispatch him, if Urahara didn’t have it in him to put the creature down himself. Being accommodating to the ridiculous terms would be the only way to ensure Ulquiorra’s safety and wellbeing, Nova decided.

                He wondered what strange sense of obligation it was that he felt toward the Arrancar, this responsibility for him. Maybe Ulquiorra’s words had an effect on Nova, with all his talk of saving his life, and owing a debt. Killing him hadn’t even crossed Nova’s mind for the briefest instant, and it saddened him that it was the first thing on the Arrancar’s list of concerns. He’d said it had been ‘self preservation’ which had driven him to the Shoten, even at risk of his own peril. How desperate would someone have to be, he wondered, to turn to his enemies over his comrades for help?

                Fortunately for Ulquiorra, the shop keeper was a good-hearted man, who wished to follow the path of least bloodshed. If the Espada could keep his word and manage not to cause trouble here, there would be no problem with him staying.

                Nova teleported back out of his dimension, popping into his private room. He would have to share quarters with Ulquiorra, and keep tabs on him even during the night, he realized. He momentarily considered searching the storage rooms of the Shoten for an additional futon mattress, but then decided against it. If the Arrancar decided to get up in the night, Nova would notice it more quickly if they shared the bed. He knew the arrangement might seem strange to others, but Nova didn’t feel any inherent danger directed toward him from the Espada. His piercing gaze was intense and uncomfortable at times, but it did not carry any threat.

                He took a shaky breath and steeled himself to return to the lab, and check in on the captive.

                Three sets of eyes fixed on him this time as he entered the room. Tessai was there along with Urahara and Ulquiorra, who was sitting up now with the blanket draped around him. “Ah, welcome back, Nova,” the shop keeper lilted musically. “Tessai was just about to remove the kido bonds. That is, of course, if you agree to stay with our guest at all times.”

                Nova nodded, and Urahara turned to the Espada. “Is that acceptable to you, Cifer-san?”

                “Of course,” Ulquiorra replied. “I have no intentions of causing any mischief.”

                With a nod from Kisuke, Tessai released the spell that had been holding him captive, and Ulquiorra rubbed at his arms, pulling the blanket more tightly around him. “Here, drink this,” Urahara told him, presenting him with a steaming mug of liquid. Ulquiorra eyed the contents dubiously, but took a tentative sip. He looked surprised then, and drank it enthusiastically, pausing to blow on the hot beverage. “It’s a broth made from Hollow, essentially,” Kisuke told him. “It was actually something I’d distilled for an experiment, but you need to replenish your reiatsu more than I need to run that test. I can always make more another time. I have plenty of samples in the freezer.”

                “Thank you,” Ulquiorra said. The words came out stiff and awkward, and it was obvious that this wasn’t a phrase he was accustomed to using, but clearly he had felt compelled by the generosity of these people.

                “You’re quite welcome. Nova, I’ll teach you how to make the broth. It will help him to get his strength back until he’s well enough to hunt. You’re not yet, are you?”

                “No.” Ulquiorra drained the last of the broth, and passed the empty cup to the shop keeper. “Otherwise I might have stayed in Hueco Mundo to recover. But the Hollow there are all far too powerful for me handle in this state. Even some of the weaker Hollow here would be beyond my ability, at this point. It will take time before I can hunt again.”

                Urahara nodded. “Are you agreeable to undergoing some minor tests during your recovery? I’m really very interested in your condition, and your abilities.” Ulquiorra instantly looked to Nova, which shocked the Mod Soul. He seemed to wait for an answer to be supplied.   “Non-invasive, of course, of course,” Kisuke tittered, fanning himself nonchalantly.

                Nova gave a nod, and Ulquiorra responded with a curt, “Fine.” He was unsure about this scientist. He seemed better certainly than Szayel and his methods, but the man gave him a churning of anxiety in his stomach. The Mod Soul however seemed well-acquainted with him, and something in Ulquiorra was less distrustful of that man, so he would take his judgment in the matter as the final word.

                “Excellent! Well then, it’s getting rather late, so I’ll let Nova show you to the room you’ll share with him, and then you can both meet me in the kitchen, so I can show him how to cook your broth, and we can all have some dinner.”

                Ulquiorra hopped off the table, and nearly fell over. Nova’s hand shot out and caught him under his arm, and the Espada gave a resentful glare, but allowed himself to be assisted. Nova could easily see how shaky he still was, and took one of his arms around his neck as they made their way back to his room. Ulquiorra eyed the room suspiciously, then turned to the Mod Soul. “We will share the bed?” Nova nodded, and received a grunt of acknowledgement. He felt satisfied at this, knowing that the Arrancar wouldn’t fight the arrangement, and led him to the dining room where he lowered the trembling man onto a cushion and went to the adjacent kitchen to learn from Kisuke the preparation of the weak soup.

                It was essentially the same as any other stock; cut up the meat, add it and the bones to the pot with enough water to cover, and let it simmer for a while. Only they were using Hollow meat. Jinta came past the kitchen and began to complain about the smell, but Nova decided he was just being whiny. True, the meat did have a peculiar odor, but it wasn’t exactly unpleasant; just strong, reflective of the taint of evil which clung to it even in death. He thought that Jinta was probably more in protest of them butchering the small Hollow on the kitchen counter, and using the pots and utensils to do so; a theory which Jinta quickly confirmed by complaining about that as well. Kisuke scolded him. “My my, Jinta… Cifer-san is our guest. You’ll have to be more respectful of him and his peculiar eating habits; he can’t help it if Hollow are his natural diet.”

                The boy begrudgingly shut up, and took a helping of the dinner that Tessai had prepared for the rest of them. The others filed past and took their plates to the table, where they all sat and ate in an uncomfortable silence. It was a little awkward, because Ulquiorra’s broth would need to simmer for a while before it was ready, so he only sat and watched, because his spirit body would be unable to partake or benefit from the human food the rest of them enjoyed. He watched Nova with particular interest to see what he would do, and smirked slightly as the Mod Soul pulled his mask down under his chin to eat, leaving his mouth and entire face exposed.

                Nova was less disturbed by the Arrancar’s stare this time. He realized that Ulquiorra was only trying to understand his surroundings, and to weigh the danger in any new situation, which this entire day had been for him. Nova noticed him pull his blanket more tightly around him and shiver a bit. The Mod Soul paused and looked at him, cocking his head, and then stood, leaving more than half of his dinner untouched as he carried the plate to the kitchen, covering it with foil and sticking it inside the fridge. He dumped the pot of stock into the slow cooker and turned it on, so it could cook overnight. Ulquiorra was drained, and would probably pass out in short order, so wouldn’t be awake after a few hours when the stock was done cooking. This way, it would be hot and ready for him for breakfast.

                Nova pulled his mask back over his face, and returned to the dining room. He bowed goodnight to the others, and then helped Ulquiorra to his feet and supported him as they made their way back to his room. He nearly collapsed on the futon, and Nova was almost pulled off balance on top of him, but caught himself on a knee as they went down together. He assisted the Espada by arranging the blanket over top of him, then sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled off his boots. He was about to remove his hood as well, but hesitated. He usually took it off while he slept, but something about the idea made him a little wary tonight, so he elected to leave it on. He lay down on the outside edge of the bed, placing Ulquiorra between himself and the wall. If the Espada woke up in the night and tried to go somewhere, Nova was positive that he would notice it. He pulled his own blanket up over himself, and settled into his pillow. The sound of slow, even breathing met his ears, and he realized that the poor Espada was, indeed, already out like a light. Nova chuckled softly, and rolled over to watch the Arrancar sleep. His brows were knit and his eyes twitched as he passed through unknown and dark dreams. Nova unconsciously reached his hand up and stroked the raven-black locks of hair from the troubled face. Ulquiorra’s expression softened at the brush of Nova’s fingertips on his skin, and he gave an exhalation as he stilled, slipping into a deeper and more peaceful, restful slumber.

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                When Nova woke, he was shocked to see the space beside him in the bed was empty. He sat bolt upright, and began to look frantically around, then he spotted Ulquiorra sitting at the head of the bed, leaning against the corner of the room, knees drawn up, staring intently. Nova let out a massive sigh of relief, and flopped back onto the futon.

                “Good morning,” he murmured, rubbing at his face through his hood, trying to allay the panicked headache that had surged at the first thought of Ulquiorra having gone missing.

                “So. You do speak,” Ulquiorra said blandly.

                Nova glanced at him curiously. “Of course.”

                “You have always been silent, before now. Why do you not speak?”

                Nova considered this for a moment. “I don’t usually have something to say,” he countered, seeming to appease the Arrancar.

                “Your hair and eyes are of unusual color,” Ulquiorra commented, stretching out his hand to tug at a strand of the bright red hair peeking out from the hood. Nova was embarrassed by the unexpected contact, and reached to pull the zipper closed, but Ulquiorra’s fingers gripped the zipper’s track firmly. “Don’t. I meant no harm by it. Forgive me if I have offended you. You are my host; I ought to have been more considerate. I am unfamiliar with your customs yet.”

                Nova’s face flushed, and he cast his eyes downward, his hand hesitantly retreating from the zipper pull. “I was made this way,” he offered in reply to Ulquiorra’s original observation.

                “The shop keeper,” Ulquiorra said, eyes narrowing as though perceiving a menace. Nova nodded in agreement, and Ulquiorra sighed. “You are a created being then, like myself.” Nova’s eyes widened and he cocked his head inquisitively. “I was transformed from a Vasto Lorde into an Espada by Aizen, using the power of the Hogyoku. You also were created somehow. We are similar to one another, in that regard.”

                Nova nodded in agreement, stretching and pulling on his boots. “Would you like to get a shower?”

                Ulquiorra blinked. “I have only my spirit body now, unless the shop keeper has prepared the gigai he told me of.”

                “Ah.” Nova felt foolish; he had forgotten that the Espada was not in a physical form, and didn’t need to wash himself. Nova collected a towel and a change of clothes from a low, dark oak bookshelf near the door, and motioned for Ulquiorra to follow him. He was a little concerned to what degree Urahara considered “staying with him at all times,” but he himself needed a shower, and he wasn’t about to make the Espada sit in the room while he bathed. That would be more than uncomfortable for the both of them, and just plain unnecessary, in Nova’s opinion. Ulquiorra didn’t seem dangerous in the least; Nova was sure he could be trusted to stay put for a few minutes while the Mod Soul washed up.

                When Ulquiorra stood, Nova saw that his clothing appeared less filthy and damaged than the previous day. Ulquiorra noticed him staring, and nodded. “Yes, my energy is returning so I am strong enough to maintain a better visual appearance. In a few days’ time, I should be well enough to hunt for myself.”

                Nova realized by that comment that Ulquiorra was probably hungry, so he detoured them past the kitchen en route to the shower, and he turned off the slow cooker. He ladled some of the broth out of the pot and into a mug, passing it to Ulquiorra who took it eagerly. The Espada had managed to navigate the halls without much difficulty, but Nova still had heard the occasional scuffle of bare feet stumbling on the floorboards behind him as they had made their way through the back of the Shoten.

                Nova poured the remaining broth into a bowl, straining out the meat and bones. Ulquiorra watched with interest, and it gave Nova an idea. He speared a small piece of meat on a fork, and passed it to the other man, whose eyes lit up at the offering. He took a bite, and nodded in approval. Nova then sorted out the flakes of meat, and added them to the bowl of broth. Of course the Arrancar would regain his appetite eventually, Nova realized. The broths would become stews in short order, progressing to roasts probably before he was able to hunt on his own again. Nova balked a little at the idea of watching the Espada kill and eat a living thing, even a semi-undead thing like a Hollow, but he knew the time would come. He shuddered and pushed the gruesome through from his mind.

                Placing the bowl into the refrigerator, he spotted another large portion of Hollow, wrapped in plastic with a note taped to it, on which his name had been hastily scribbled. He removed the package and laid it on the counter, proceeding to butcher the thing and place the pieces into the newly-emptied slow cooker. Ulquiorra reached a hand out and retrieved a small piece of the raw meat from the cutting board. Popping it into his mouth and chewing it, he unexpectedly made a retching sound, covering his mouth, eyes wide, and swallowed hard. “Not yet,” he said, coughing and shaking his head. Nova chuckled and filled the pot with water, replacing the lid and setting it to cook again before he led him to the bathroom.

                “Wait here. I’ll be quick,” he assured Ulquiorra, who was nursing his mug of broth.

                Nova shut the door behind him and hastily stripped out of his dirty clothes, turning on the water and stepping under it. His bright red hair soaked to a dark maroon color, and he scrubbed some shampoo into it, creating a rich lather. The hot water felt good cascading over his lean frame, relaxing his sparse, tight muscles. He was a little stiff from sleeping with another person next to him in the bed, but he knew he’d adjust to it in time. He scoured himself clean and rinsed his hair and skin, then turned off the water, enjoying the lingering steam that had accumulated in the room. He dried with a towel, then fought his snug-fitting clothes on over his damp skin. He stuffed his hood halfway into his back pocket and scrubbed at his hair with a towel, drying it as he opened the door, steam billowing out into the hall.

                Ulquiorra had settled on the floor against the wall, and looked up as the door creaked open. Shock registered on his face for a moment, causing Nova to smile boyishly as he continued to towel his damp hair. The Espada was startled at seeing him without his hood on, and doubly so when he realized that the Mod Soul was not disfigured in the slightest. Not a single scar or blemish marred his creamy, pale complexion, and Ulquiorra was transfixed on his smile. It gave him a strange uneasiness in the pit of his stomach, which was strange because it was not entirely unpleasant. He almost enjoyed the sensation, he decided.

                “Come on, let’s get breakfast.” From his vantage, Nova could see that the mug was empty, and assumed the Espada would want a refill. He walked ahead to the kitchen and heard Ulquiorra following behind, his footsteps sounding more sturdy than earlier.

                Nova slung his damp towel over his shoulder and busied himself with reheating his leftovers from last night, and warming another mug-full of the broth from the bowl in the fridge, which honestly hadn’t had all that much time to cool in the first place. He included some pieces of the cooked meat in the cup this time, and Ulquiorra looked on with satisfaction.

                They seated themselves in the dining room, and ate together in the silence that only the early dawn can provide. Bright, clear light shone through the window, and each man was lost in their meal and their own thoughts.

                This was not the sort of uncomfortable quiet from dinner the night before; here were two well-acquainted with the silence, and curiously at ease in the company of one another. Nova shut his eyes for a moment and breathed in the deep, penetrating peace that had descended on the Shoten that morning, and let it wash over his soul.

                Ulquiorra watched this peculiar exercise with interest. The look of total serenity present on Nova’s face caused that uneasy-but-not-unpleasant sensation to rise inexplicably again and coil tightly in his stomach. Yes indeed, these humans can be very interesting at times, he mused to himself.

                When he opened his eyes, Nova saw Ulquiorra was staring at him again. He smirked and yanked his hood from his back pocket, tugging it over his mostly-dry hair. He collected their dishes and carried them to the kitchen, washing them up in the sink as Ulquiorra followed automatically behind.

                “Why do you wear that mask?” Ulquiorra asked.

                Nova chuckled. “I could ask you the same thing.”

                Ulquiorra cocked his head inquisitively. “I do not wear a mask.”

                Shaking the water from his plate, Nova set it in the drying rack along with the mug and utensils. “Not a physical one like mine, no. But you don’t show your emotions, and that’s the same, essentially.” He leaned his hip into the sink and crossed his arms, facing the Espada. “I’m kind of shy. I guess it’s my way of protecting my heart.”

                That word again, Ulquiorra pondered. “I am a Hollow, I have no heart,” he reminded the Mod Soul, touching his fingertips to the edge of the gaping hole that was exposed in his chest by the ragged state of his attire.

                Nova scoffed in displeasure at the rebuttal. “Well, a mask if safer, then. It keeps people at a distance.”

                “Safe?”

                The Espada moved near to Nova with startling speed and stood chest to chest with him, bringing his face in close. The Mod Soul could feel his breath rustling the slightly damp hair peeking out the opening of his mask, and those deeply intense and feline eyes searched him. “Safety is an illusion. Does that mask fool you into believing that you are safe around me?” Nova’s silence was his only response. “Do not mistake my infirmity for weakness, Mod Soul. I am every bit a dangerous killer.”

                Nova’s heart boomed in his chest at that ruthless tone and feral glare. The closeness of the Espada, combined with his harsh words, was terrifying and thrilling at the same time, although Nova was unable to determine why he still wasn’t truly fearful for his wellbeing from Ulquiorra.

                “You wouldn’t hurt me,” he whispered confidently, holding his ground even though he was trembling with something he thought might be exhilaration.

                The Espada narrowed his eyes menacingly. “Are you so sure of that?” Nova nodded, feeling for all the world like his breath had been stolen from his very chest. He finally was able to gasp a ragged inhalation into aching lungs as Ulquiorra stood down, turning away. “You are correct,” Ulquiorra conceded in a disconcertingly soft tone of voice. He glanced back over his shoulder, internal conflict swirling in those turgid, emerald depths as the two expressionless masks faced one another. “Although I do not know why,” he added.

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                Ulquiorra ate a small amount of the meat that day, and finished off the remainder of the broth. The new batch that had been cooking all day got packaged up that evening, and Kisuke brought more meat from his research samples in the freezer in his lab so they could set up yet another round of the soup to cook overnight. Nova was slightly concerned that they were going to burn up the slow cooker at this rate, but it was the handiest appliance for the job.

                The Espada had consented to undergoing a barrage of tests that day, and he was fairly exhausted by nightfall. The shop keeper had presented him with the afore mentioned gigai as promised, and it was a perfect replica of him, aside from the absence of the bone-like half-helmet of his broken Hollow mask. Kisuke assisted him into the artificial body.

                “It is uncomfortable and restrictive-feeling,” Ulquiorra complained, rolling his shoulders. “Is this perhaps the incorrect size?”

                “You’ll get used to it,” Urahara assured him. “You’ve never worn a gigai before, that’s just how they feel in the beginning. Also, this is a reiatsu-masking model, so that as you recover, you won’t be drawing attention to yourself. You do have an uncommonly high reiatsu, Cifer-san, so as you regain your strength, you’ll become a magnet for Hollow and Shinigami alike, without that little modification.”

                Ulquiorra pursed his lips in irritation, but said nothing. A magnet for Hollow was not an issue; that was the natural order of things, and as it well should be. If Hollow were drawn to him, it would save him the extra expenditure of hunting them down, and expedite his recovery process; but no matter, he decided. He enjoyed the chase all the same, and it would be thrilling to hunt in this new environment and learn its challenges and advantages.

                “Nova, you should probably put some vegetables in with that meat, now that he has a gigai to nourish,” the shop keeper suggested. Nova nodded and retreated to the kitchen, and Ulquiorra followed. He watched Nova scrub carrots and potatoes, then chop them into bite-sized pieces, along with an onion and some celery, dumping it all into the slow cooker, then sprinkling some seasonings over it all. “This is going to smell amazing in the morning,” Nova murmured half to himself as he replaced the lid. Then, he turned to Ulquiorra. “Are you going to shower tonight?”

                Ulquiorra seemed shocked. “Should I?” He was mortified for some reason at the idea that perhaps this body had an unpleasant odor, and that it might be offensive to the Mod Soul.

                Nova shrugged. “You’ll feel better if you do. It’ll help you to sleep tonight probably, and also to relax into your gigai. I can see you’re still uncomfortable in it.”

                Ulquiorra nodded his consent, and Nova went to his room to fetch some dark green colored pajama pants, a matching shirt, and a towel for the Espada. Ulquiorra gave a brisk thanks and made his way to the shower.

                Nova had been right; the water did feel very relaxing, and Ulquiorra stood under the steaming flow for a while after he had finished the necessary washing of the gigai. Once he had dried and changed into his pajamas, he stepped into the hallway. Nova was leaning against the opposite wall of the hallway, wearing a similar set of pajamas only in a dark blue color. He was still wearing his hood.

                “Do you always wear that mask to bed?” Ulquiorra asked, his irritation coming through slightly in his tone. Nova looked away, and the Espada realized that was an embarrassed and unspoken ‘No.’

                “Take it off,” he ordered. Nova’s eyes widened, and he stared in shock as Ulquiorra pushed past him on his way to the bedroom. “It looks absurd with your night clothes, anyway. Don’t make special accommodations because of me, and certainly not senseless ones such as that. I am sure it is uncomfortable to sleep in.” Ulquiorra settled into the bed and watched as Nova appeared several seconds later in the doorway, hood held in his hand. He laid it on the top of the bookcase and paused there for a long moment, his fingers resting on the item as if he were trying to decide if he really wanted to leave it off or not, Ulquiorra thought. There was a deep flush across his porcelain cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

                In fact, he was wondering exactly that. He could take the Espada’s intense stares while wearing his mask, but with it off, he felt very vulnerable and exposed. With a sigh, he left it on the shelf and switched the light off, laying down in the darkness next to Ulquiorra. He knew that Kisuke had taken the special reiatsu-warming blanket back to his lab, since the Espada had a gigai now, so he pulled the single blanket up over the both of them. It was not long before he felt the blankets trembling.

                He reached his hand out and laid it on Ulquiorra’s shoulder, and found the Arrancar was shivering. “Are you cold?” Nova asked worriedly.

                “Yes,” Ulquiorra admitted.

                The Mod Soul didn’t have another blanket, and rather than go and root around the shop for one, his mind leapt to the immediate solution. Without even thinking twice about it, he moved closely in to the Espada and pulled him against his chest. Ulquiorra stiffened immediately; but within a matter of seconds, he began to sense the increased warmth their two bodies together generated, and relaxed back into the heat offered by the comforting embrace.

                “Thank you,” Ulquiorra muttered awkwardly.

                Nova shifted the drape of his arm over the Espada’s chest, and felt a black-nailed hand come to rest over top of his, and remain there.

                “No problem.”

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The Silence Between