Dreaming and Wishing (UlquiHime drabble)
A dream is a wish your heart makes when your fast asleep.
Inside Las Noches, under the pale light of Hueco Mundo’s constant moon, Orihime Inoue dreamed of many things. She dreamed of Karakura Town: the fresh air, the scent of flowers, the green of trees, the grey buildings, the sea of people, the bright colors, and the warmth of the sun. She dreamed of her apartment: the television, the feel of her bed, the shrine for her deceased brother Sora, and the food she kept in her refrigerator. She dreamed of her friends: Tatsuki and her fiery spirit, Chizuru and her unrestrained affection, Chad and his comforting silence, Ishida and his calming presence, Rukia and her inspiring strong will, and Ichigo……. Always Ichigo. Ichigo and his cute (once scary) frown. Ichigo and his bright orange hair. Ichigo and his warm eyes and smile and laugh. Ichigo and his boyish voice. Ichigo and his will to protect… Ichigo: the one who could never be hers.
In Orihime’s dreams, she would be smiling. She would be happy. She would be surrounded by the people she love. She would be filled with warmth. She would be home. In Orihime’s dreams, everything was fine. Which is why she wished she would never wake up. Because waking up is a nightmare.
The reality was she wasn’t at home. She wasn’t with her friends. She was in enemy territory. She was a captive. She was alone. Alone in an ocean of strong and fierce enemies. There was no sun. There was only the moon. There was no color. Only black and white and the shades in between. Except for one bright, vivid, and intense color. Green. The color of her captor’s eyes.
Ulquiorra Cifer, Aizen Sosuke’s Cuatro Espada, was unlike any other Hollow to Orihime. He was too calculated instead of instinctual. He was too calm instead of brash. Where most Hollows burn with the need to fight, Ulquiorra doesn’t. To him, it was like everything was worth nothing. Everything was trash and meaningless. Everything… but her.
Orihime knew that her captor was only duty-bound to make sure that she eats and lives. Yet, Ulquiorra asked her many questions. Which was saying a lot. Because questions imply a want to understand. A want to understand implies an interest. Interest was the least one could expect from someone (something?) as Ulquiorra Cifer.
And then before Orihime knew it, she wasn’t dreaming anymore. Because waking up meant seeing and talking with Ulquiorra. Talking with Ulquiorra was often times frustrating, but it gave Orihime a sense of relief and hope. Relief from her dark, hopeless thoughts. Hope that in the bleak, eat-and-be-eaten world of Hueco Mundo, there was still a light that Orihime can hang unto and anchor her sanity on. And then, before she noticed it, their little talks led to many moments that Orihime would have dared to describe as intimate. And then, before she noticed it, Orihime had grown accustomed to life in the darkness and in the company of her captor-turned-guardian. In fact, she had almost forgotten that an inevitable war was coming. That every passing moment was still the calm before the storm.
True to fact, the storm came. Ichigo and the rest of Orihime’s friends had come to save her. The events that happened afterwards were like a storm’s violent winds that incessantly tossed Orihime. And like a storm, the events that happened left a devastation in Orihime’s heart.
When the Winter War was finally over, while everyone else was celebrating genuinely, Orihime could only fake a smile. In her mind, she kept seeing the man she loved but can never be hers turn into a monster. In her mind, she kept reaching out for a hand that was once there but had turned to nothing but ash drifting in the winds, slipping through her fingers. In her mind, she kept telling herself that she was finally back home. She should be happy. She’s finally surrounded by the people she cared about. But in her heart, Orihime knew that she was telling herself a lie.
Inside her suddenly too big apartment, under the pale light of the Living World’s changing moon, Orihime dreamed of many things. She dreamed of Hueco Mundo: the reishi-dense air, the skeletal quartz trees, the serene desert, and the black sky. She dreamed of Las Noches: the similar corridors, the fake but warm sun, her dim room, and the bland food. She dreamed of green, and the intensity and curiosity burning behind it. She dreamed of pale white, and the cool warmth of iron-hard skin. She dreamed of black, and its gentle pressure above her pink lips.
A dream is a wish your heart makes when you’re fast asleep.
Orihime dreamed of a memory where she was safe, happy and content in the arms of the enemy; in the arms who took her away from what she thought was her everything.
