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A Shadow of What Was	By : katami Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 49594 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Author�s Notes: I meant to have this up last night, but the muse hijacked me on the way back from the shower. By the time I looked up it was way past bedtime and dawn was far too near. Bloody muse. *Katami�s Muse peeks out and waves* �It was for a good cause. Besides, sleep is for the weak.�

I�d like to thank all the people who have taken the time to review this story. And now it is nap time for this little writer.

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A ten hours shift with nothing to show for it had left Byakuya tired and annoyed. Especially since most of his shift had been spent examining the many and various ways he had failed with Ulquiorra and Rukia and life in general. He glanced at the heavily laden tray that contained what he hoped would convince the Arrancar to at least allow him to present an apology: two cups of coffee - both with cream and sugar (he was unsure about the beverage, preferring tea in the mornings, but didn't wish to unsettle Ulquiorra) - poached eggs, toast, and a wide array of fruit. He had also secured a single red rose and a tome on warfare that he thought might please the Arrancar.

He paused outside the former Espada's door, taking a moment to center himself before carefully shifting the tray to try and knock. "Allow me," purred a amused voice, knocking on the door for him. Byakuya turned to find himself staring into eyes so dark that the pupil was invisible. Shunsui.

And behind him stood Jyuushiro.

While both men looked like their normal inscrutable selves, Byakuya noticed a subtle tension to their bearings and that the smiles pulling at their mouths did not reach their eyes. In fact, from the way their reiatsu were tightly contained Byakuya would have said the other men were furious but trying very hard to keep from letting their anger spilling over.

"Is there something I can do for either of you?" inquired Byakuya, rather hoping there wasn't. He wanted to speak with Ulquiorra and frankly, he would rather avoid Jyuushiro and Shunsui when they were angry. They were both quite powerful and had a vicious streak when something truly raised their ire.

"Actually, we wished to speak with Ulquiorra-san," murmured Jyuushiro, his voice light and cheerful. It took a trained ear to recognizer the undercurrent of steel. A sliver of cold went through the captain of the Sixth. Why would two of the most powerful captains of the Gotei 13 want to speak with an Arrancar with no connections?

"I wished a word with him as well," he murmured quietly.

The door opened and Ulquiorra blinked at them for a moment before his face went carefully blank. "Kuchiki-taichou. Ukitake-taichou. Kyouraku-taichou," the Arrancar greeted them softly with a tiny nod for each one of them. "Can I be of some assistance?"

"We were hoping for a word," Shunsui jumped in, making Byakuya frown. He did not wish to offer his apology in front of the other men, but he did not want to leave Ulquiorra alone if Jyuushiro or Shunsui were annoyed with him. Either one of them could kill the former Espada without effort. He was also curious as to what they might have wanted with the smaller man since Ulquiorra had been nothing but polite and respectful during his time with them.

"Of course," replied the Arrancar differentially, stepping aside to allow them inside. Byakuya quickly handed the breakfast tray to Jyuushiro and caught Ulquiorra's arm as he turned to follow the other men.

"I did not come with Jyuushiro and Shunsui; and while I do not wish to intrude, I would beg your indulgence in allowing me to remain," he told the Arrancar quietly, letting his hand fall to gently brush the other man's hand.

Brilliant green eyes met his and Byakuya read the carefully veiled emotions lurking there, curiosity and confusion. He let his own gaze soften and was pleased by the tiny lessening of the Arrancar's tension. "I would not object to your presence, Kuchiki-taichou."

"Byakuya," he told the Arrancar softly, pleased by the tiny hint of pink on the other man's cheeks and the grateful look Ulquiorra gave him. He steered the former Espada towards his couch, settling next to him and across from the other Shinigami, clearly startling Ulquiorra, who blinked quizzically at him for an instant. Byakuya gave Jyuushiro and Shunsui a small nod, indicating they should proceed.

The two older men shared a look before Jyuushiro spoke. "We have some questions regarding

Jeagerjaques," murmured the captain of the Thirteenth. Ulquiorra silently cocked his head, waiting for more, some prompting as to what the two men wanted to know.

"We were...curious about his time with Aizen," began Jyuushiro clearly trying to be tactful. Byakuya felt himself stiffen as he realized what the other man wanted to know and a moment later he felt a tiny flutter of unease from Ulquiorra before the Arrancar retreated behind his icy mask. Byakuya glanced at the figure at his side, his back ramrod straight, his face blank, and his reiatsu tamped down so tightly that it was impossible to feel him. He stole a glance at Jyuushiro and Shunsui and then reached out to lay his hand over Ulquiorra's.

There was a tiny flash of surprise from the two men across the way and Byakuya glanced coolly at them, daring them to comment. Both wisely chose to remain silent. "How much do you know about the hierarchy of Hueco Mundo?" he asked quietly.

"Very little," admitted Shunsui. "We have suspicions however."

"They are probably accurate," growled Byakuya before glancing at Ulquiorra, who was studying him carefully and discreetly. He let his fingers caress the back of the Arrancar's hand, silently asking if the other man wished to speak of his time with Aizen. He felt a tiny fickler of Ulquiorra's reiatsu and gently caressed the Arrancar with his own power, offering whatever comfort he could.

"Grimmjow was sixth, answerable to all those above him," murmured the Arrancar, another spike of white hot anger going through Byakuya as he thought of the graceful, reserved creature beside him being used in such a way. Across from them, power rose in a slow menacing wave.

"Define answerable," growled Jyuushiro, lightning flashing in his eyes.

"Anyone who could overpower him could demand sexual favors or anything else they wanted from him," Byakuya told the other Shinigami, bracing himself against the angry swell of reiatsu that washed through the room, a complex tangle of water, ozone, darkness and the faint hint of something floral. Both men were coldly furious, more angry than Byakuya had ever seen them before; although he was beginning to appreciate the stories he had been told in his youth about their arguments.

"Who?" demanded Shunsui, something sharp and hard in his normally smooth voice.

Ulquiorra gave a small tilt of his head which seemed to serve as a shrug. "Tousen paid him a great deal of attention, finding fault with his discipline - but that was not sexual in nature. I was given to understand that Nnotira took a particular interest in him. And Virtu as well. Although I'm certain others have as well. Grimmjow was universally unpopular and the chance to hold power over him would have tempted many."

"Why?" whispered Jyuushiro, something painful twisting in his brown eyes and instantly drawing Shunsui's attention. The captain of the Eighth was caressing his arm soothingly and his reiatsu brushed over the pale haired man like a warm spring breeze.

"Grimmjow is a born Hollow," murmured Ulquiorra quietly. Three eyebrows rose in inquiry and all three men regarded the Arrancar questioningly.

"What?" demanded Jyuushiro, apparently the first to find his voice. "What do you mean born? All Hollows come from human souls that are consumed by regret."

"No. There are two types of Hollows. Those that come from human souls and those that are born from other Hollows. The first type is what the overwhelmingly majority of us are, but there are a few that come from other Hollows. Grimmjow is one of the latter. They are exceedingly rare, perhaps one in every hundred thousand, and they are slightly different than the rest of us -

"More...closer to what we once were perhaps.

"Grimmjow is vicious, brutal and uncouth but he is in possession of a moral code; one that he devised for himself rather than something forced on him by outside forces. He does not recognize right or wrong the way humans do - no Hollow does - but he acknowledges the concepts and adheres to them within the confines of his own perceptions. Such a thing is a rarity in Hueco Mundo where survival is paramount.

"Natural born Hollows are the closet thing you will find to nobility within Hueco Mundo, although they are accorded no rank or privilege. They simply have a hard edge of viciousness that it takes most of us time to develop. They are said to be the most powerful of us. They were the first to achieve the level of Vasto Lorde and most come to it...more easily than the rest of us." Byakuya sensed a great yawning chasm behind those words, something so primitive and primal that humans had no words to express it. Something they had lost even the concept for centuries ago.

"How is that...why have we never heard?" demanded Jyuushiro, picking up the thread that would be most important to Soul Society - how had they never realized that there were a whole set of Hollows they didn't know about.

Ulquiorra gave a tiny dismissive tilt of his head. "As I said, they are rare. And the few that are born risk predation from other Hollows. They are also still ultimately Hollows."

"Why would it matter if Jeagerjaques was one of these natural Hollows?" he asked the Arrancar quietly, pleased by the shy glance Ulquiorra gave him.

"It is unusual for normal Hollows to reach the status of Vasto Lorde without some sort of mental fracturing. The suppression of all the absorbed personalities is impossible for all but the strongest of wills. The natural born do not face this fracturing; they are able to evolve without the battle for mental acuity that the rest of us endure. Many are...resentful for this. When presented with the chance to avenge themselves, they were most eager." The angry press of Jyuushiro and Shunsui's reiatsu expressed quite eloquently and firmly their feelings on the matter.

"And you never," began Shunsui, his voice silky growl.

"I was one of the few who did not fracture and felt no need to...avail myself ." There was no pride in the words but Byakuya could sense the quiet strength in them and more than that, he could sense the iron will lurking in that slight frame. He drew Ulquiorra's hand from his lap and gently brushed his lips against the pale knuckles, gray eyes meeting startled green.

"How did Grimmjow end up with Aizen?" asked Jyuushiro, quietly drawing their attention back to the others. Ulquiorra gave another of his little head tilts.

"Aizen had found him before I came to Las Noches. I was given to understand that Aizen was eager to get his hands on a born Hollow once he learned of them. All the born Vasto Lordes had shunned him, but Grimmjow was young and hungry for power."

"How much damage..." began Jyuushiro before falling silent, clearly unable to even ask how much damage had been done to the Arrancar. Byakuya didn't blame him; he wasn't sure he wanted to know either. To be faced with the sharp reality of what had been done and know that they would never be able to exact suitable revenge - because no revenge would ever be suitable enough.

Ulquiorra gave another dismissive gesture. "Grimmjow always fought, that made it worse. Usually more than Aizen does to Ichimaru; but nothing permanent unless a point was trying to be made or one of the Shinigami were the ones doing it." Byakuya felt the surprise that flashed through the room. He didn't know Ichimaru Gin well but it was hard to imagine the mischievous fox allowing anyone to harm him. And why would the pale haired man follow Aizen into exile if the other man mistreated him? Just how many victims had Aizen Sousuke left? And how many of them would ever be able to collect the pound of flesh due them?
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A Shadow of What Was