His Heart

Theme: Heart

He was dying. His battle with the substitute shinigami had taken a toll on his body. Despite his ability to regenerate, the damage had been too severe. His outer appearance was only an illusion. It was inside that was completely destroyed and beyond saving. Even in his released form he was unable to defeat the boy. Yet he didn't feel anything despite losing. Despite dying.

His gaze fell on the woman. She stood a few feet away, hands pressed against her chest. Her large brown eyes were filled with something he could not discern. Perhaps it was the emotions she believed in that he did not. If so, how ironic for her to feel anything for him. He who kept her caged like a bird. He who threatened to rip out her heart. He who hurt those coming to rescue her.

Ever since Aizen had her kidnapped, he had changed. Unnoticeable to everyone else he felt the change inside. He may not have a heart, but he knew when something affected him. Even if he wanted to ignore it, he couldn't. Of all the people to have an affect on him, this emotion wearing woman was the one.

He recalled when he asked her about emotions. What are emotions? What is this heart she talked about? He denied anything he could not see with his eyes because it was easier. Easier than believing in something intangible. Emotions were unpredictable and not always under one's control. The heart was merely an organ that pumps blood through the human body. Nothing more. Or so he told her.

Yet she persisted. She continued to believe that the heart was more than what he said. The heart, for her, held so much more importance. It felt fear, happiness, pity. Some people were ruled by their hearts not by logic. Of course he didn't believe her. How could he? He was a creature who believed only in what he could perceive with his eyes.

His time was up. He could feel his wings disintegrating. Reaching a hand in her direction, he met her gaze. "Are you afraid of me?" He wanted to know. After all she saw him for the monster he was.

The sincerity of her eyes caused an ache in his chest. "I'm not….I'm not afraid of you." She reached forward to grasp his hand, but that too disintegrated.

His last vision was of her reaching for him. "I see. So this is it. It lies here within this palm. The heart…" he thought to himself. He closed his eyes. A wistful feeling welling within his empty chest.

He woke with a start. A warm hand was stroking the top of his hair. His head was cradled in gentle arms and pressed against a beating chest. Blinking the sleep from his eyes he realized he was not in Las Noches. No. He was in his own bed. Next to the woman from his memories turned dream. She hummed a light tune under her breath as her hand continued to thread through his dark hair.

She paused in her humming. "You were tossing and mumbling in your sleep. Are you okay, Ulquiorra?"

Pulling away from her hold, he looked at her. Gone was the childish face of a young teen. Instead a woman with eyes filled with concern and wisdom far beyond her years stared back. "I had….a dream."

He fell back into his pillow. "Do you want to talk about it?"she asked, cuddling up to his side. Legs tangled together, she placed a hand on his bare chest.

He didn't want to dredge up old memories. "We should sleep. We have to get up early for Kurosaki's big day."

Orihime smiled sleepily. "Good night, Ulquiorra."

She fell asleep right away. Ulquiorra was still awake as he listened to her steady breathing. Running his hands through her long hair, he returned to his dream. It had been years ago since the events of that dream. He placed his free hand over his own chest. The steady beating of his heart reminded him that he was alive.

Pressing a light kiss on her head, Ulquiorra closed his eyes. Content with what he had, he drifted off to sleep. He held his heart in his arms.