Characters: Orihime, Ulquiorra
Summary: "I stared down at the pile of ash in my hands. Then, after some hesitation, I leaned down close and blew it all away." Spoilers for 353. Ulquiorra x Orihime.
Pairings: Ulquiorra x Orihime
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for Hueco Mundo arc; spoilers for chapter 353.
Timeline: Chapter 353
Author's Note: Maybe I paint Orihime's view of Ulquiorra as too soft at the end. But Orihime is a very soft-hearted person (not that that's a bad thing), and I can't help but think that she'd forgive just about anyone. Not everyone (even she draws the line at some things), but close. Also, metaphors and symbolism abound.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.

He is, even now at the last, imposing and strangely dignified, straight-backed and calm even as his body begins float away, ash scattering into the night. He chooses to die with some dignity, unlike most Hollows, quiet and composed.

And choosing to interrogate me to the very last.

This… this is a waste. Kurosaki-kun is right; this is no victory, and we all know it. There is no joy to be found in the end of a battle like this.

But, even if Ulquiorra-san was to die in another way, in a way that was not so pointless, I would find no happiness in what I witness now.

I do…pity him, on some level. There is relief, certainly, that everything's over, and thankfulness that he can not hurt any more of the people I care about. But I still can't shake off this sense of loss, my pity for the one who was so empty.

It was difficult to watch Ulquiorra-san struggle with emotions, not knowing, not even capable of comprehending what they were. The straining, the frustrated reaching for something he could not grasp. He was almost like a child, with a puzzle he could not solve but desperately wanted to know the answer.

His acts were—are—heinous. He all but killed Kurosaki-kun and wounded Ishida-kun. But he's not irredeemable. Ulquiorra-san has been my jailer, my warden, my tormentor at times, but also my only companion, and I watched him change. The changes were subtle, almost unnoticeable, but they are there. I can see it, in the strange, half-light gleam in his green eyes, as he reaches out to me, his hand almost as a supplicant.

None of this had to happen.

"Do I frighten you…girl?" This has almost become a game among us, his question asked more and more softly as time has gone on. He asks it every time as though he expects a different answer. Now, he does not whisper, but his voice is so quiet, so still, that against the backdrop of the wind, I can barely hear his words. But I know what he is asking of me, this final time.

I can not save him. I know that. I can answer.

"…No, you don't." There is no hesitation in my voice, though it trembles and cracks, as I reach out with my own hand, try to touch his skin, grab his hand, almost as if I could pull him back from the abyss.

I can not save him. But that does not stop me from wishing I could try.

Ulquiorra-san turns his head slightly, getting a closer look at my face. One last time. "…I see."

I was never afraid of him. He knew that.

The hand I catch turns to ash in my grasp.

I watch, unable to do anything else, as Ulquiorra-san scatters away, body passing into ash and carrying off on the breeze.

I open my clenched hand, and find there a small pile of ash, griming my skin, settling upon the folds and wrinkles of my palm.

My heart pounds. I stare down at the pile of ash in my hands. Then, after some hesitation, I lean down close and blow it all away.