Bleach © Tito Kubo
The Arrancar were dead. Ulquiorra had never had any love for any of his race, or indeed anyone during his brief, fluttered existence, but to know that he was entirely alone in the world, as alone as he had been in that transient period when porcelain and bone had burned his breath and caged his thoughts…
It terrified him.
Filled him with a fear that he never remembered, not even when that anomaly, that upstart Kurosaki Ichigo had hacked his way through legions of Arrancar to ascend the steps to Aizen Sousuke's throne and shred the deluded emperor neck to navel, just like a pig, or perhaps a demented Frankenstein, who had watched his creations of glass and thought and breath fall.
Ulquiorra did recall thinking how very, very pretty the Hogyoku had been as it had shattered its crystalline heart on the marbled floors. Perhaps he would shatter now.