This was inspired by a fanfiction I can't seem to find again. I'm pretty sure it was Avatar TLA, though. ^^;
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach. Too much work...
**
She is human, he reminds himself, and because she is human she is trash.
But trash is meant to be weak, and he knows that is one thing she is not.
He knows because when he looks at her, he can see the defiance that lingers there, the stubbornness that lies underneath her fragile exterior. He knows that she still clings to the last scraps of hope offered to her, never throwing them away.
It baffled him.
He prided himself on his analytical prowess, yet he had never been able to understand her. He had never been able to understand how she could be so strong-willed, so incorrigible. How she could still retain the will to fight.
Perhaps, he thought, there was more to being human that meets the eye.
By all rights, her confinement in the tiny cell that was her room should have been more than enough to break her, to drive her over the edge of despair.
And yet.
"Are you afraid of me, woman?"
He asks the question while she is looking at her room's only window, staring at something he cannot see. She turns when she hears his voice, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. For a second he sees the flame that burns in her eyes, before it is smothered into ashes.
"I'm not afraid," she says softly.
He believes her.
**
She is human, he reminds himself, and because she is human she is trash.
He glances at the untouched tray of food resting beside the couch as he walks into the room, his frown deepening almost imperceptibly.
"Woman."
She looks at him questioningly.
"Yes, Ulquiorra-san?"
He motions toward the tray. "Eat your food."
Her eyes fall to the plate next to her feet, orange locks falling across her face to make her expression inscrutable.
"I'm not hungry." Her reply is quiet, so much so that he almost has to strain to hear it.
He pauses for a moment, studying her.
"You must eat to survive. It is Aizen-sama's will that you should live." Her head lifts to look at him for a second before dropping back to the floor once again, as if avoiding his gaze.
"I'm not hungry," she repeats, her voice firmer than before.
He stands there for a moment, the thought of force-feeding her briefly crossing his mind. After a few moments of tense silence, he turns to leave.
"I'll be back in an hour, woman. Make sure to have eaten your food by then."
**
She is human, he reminds himself, and because she is human she is trash.
"Ulquiorra-san?"
He faces her dispassionately, his face revealing nothing.
"What is it, woman?" Her hands are intertwined in her lap, lips pursed together and eyes gazing far into the distance as she considers her question.
"What makes you so loyal to Aizen-sama?"
He notices the way she says his leader's name without stumbling over it now, as if it has become perfectly natural for her.
"Aizen-sama is my creator."
Her head tilts to one side and her forehead creases in an expression he has learned to identify as confusion.
"That's not true," she objects. "You existed even before he came with the Hogyoku."
He blinks.
"Aizen-sama reformed us. He gave us something to gather under. A purpose to serve."
There is a moment of silence between them. The line in her brow deepens as she stares at him thoughtfully.
"I don't understand. How did he earn such loyalty if all he did was give you a purpose?" There is genuine curiosity in her eyes, no hint of the mockery or scorn that one would expect from any other.
He wants nothing more than to simply leave, but something compels him to answer.
"You would not understand."
She frowns slightly, ignoring the obvious implication that this should be the end of the conversation.
"Why not?"
His face goes carefully blank.
"Because you are human."
**
She is human, he reminds himself, and because she is human she is trash.
"Sado-kun isn't dead."
Her eyes are trained on the tiny window again, as they have been every time he entered. But instead of staring into space, she gazes up at the moon with something approaching longing.
He wonders what could possibly be interesting about something so dead, so unreachable.
Something so cold.
"Your persistence is irritating. What would you have me say? 'Don't worry; I'm sure he's fine'?" His words have an unusual edge to them, almost bordering on vehemence.
"Ridiculous. I am not here to comfort you, woman."
Her head jerks around to stare at him, bottom lip quivering for a moment before pressing tightly against the other to form a flat line.
"Sado-kun isn't dead," she insists. "He's not."
He takes a step toward her.
"I don't understand. Why do you care so much about whether or not he's alive? It doesn't make a difference one way or the other. All of your friends will be killed eventually."
She flinches visibly, eyes widening.
"Stop." It comes out as barely more than a whisper.
"They should have known this would happen."
"Stop…" Her frame trembles slightly in the moonlight, and for a moment he almost expects her to break down and cry. But she doesn't, so he presses on.
"If it were me, I would be angry at their foolishness for coming without first considering the limits of their abilities."
He barely finishes his sentence before she rushes the space separating them, bringing her hand across his face in an open-palmed slap.
His head jerks to the side with the force of the blow. He remains motionless as his gaze slowly travels to her face, his expression unreadable. She glares at him, her breath coming out heavy and labored.
He thinks he can see moisture gathering in her eyes, but he can't be sure.
"You had no right."
Her voice quivers, whether from fear or anger he does not know. Perhaps both. The air is thick with tension, as if it might snap at a moment's notice.
This time, he is the one to speak.
"I'll be back in an hour, woman. If you haven't eaten your food by then, I will tie you down and force you to eat."
He doesn't look back as he walks out the door.
As soon as he is gone, she slumps against the door and slides to the floor. Sobs rack her body as she finally gives in to the need to cry, all her suppressed emotions running down her cheeks like rivers.
He lingers on the other side of the wall, listening to her tears stain the porcelain floors.
It reminds him of the rain.
**
She is human, he reminds himself, and because she is human she is trash.
"Is he your friend?"
It takes a second for him to process her question, because what she is asking makes no sense. When he does, he simply stares at her, wondering why she would ask something so pointless.
"Yammy-san." She motions toward the door that has just swung shut, seeing his confusion. "Is he your friend?"
"I have no friends," he says, his tone curt.
She frowns at him.
"That can't be true. Everyone has somebody they care about."
"I do not."
She stares at him, something akin to sadness in her eyes. He doesn't know why.
"Don't you feel lonely here, being all alone?" she asks softly. The question catches him off guard, but he responds quickly.
"I do not feel."
She blinks.
"Why not?" She has asked him this before. He does not wish to answer her again, but he does.
"I have no heart."
Her frown deepens.
"I don't believe that."
This time, it is his turn to blink before reverting to his usual mask. For a moment he says nothing, and she worries that she has angered him. Then,
"Believe what you want, woman."
**
She is human, he reminds himself, and because she is human she is trash.
"I'm finally… starting to find you guys a little interesting."
His words are soft, his tone resigned. He can feel himself fading as the last remnants of his wings crumble into ash, taking his lower leg with it. His eyes fade from a sickly yellow to their usual green.
He is expressionless as he turns to her, impassive even in the face of death. She holds his gaze steadily.
He extends his hand.
"Are you afraid of me? Girl."
She reaches out to take it.
"I'm not afraid."
He pauses with his hand outstretched, the ice finally melting from his features. His eyes soften and she can almost see a weight being lifted from his shoulders, a burden that he didn't know about until it was gone.
If he could, she thinks he would smile.
"I see."
She grasps at empty air as his hand finally disappears, clawing desperately for something that is no longer there. Her face twists with some emotion he can't identify, and tears roll down her cheeks like raindrops.
This is it.
This here in my hand.
He wants to wipe them away.
The Heart.
**
She is human, he reminds himself, but the heart made them the same.
**
I know, I'm such a loser for using actual canon moments... but I couldn't help myself. They just fit too well! I tried the last line five times, and still couldn't get it right. So it's going to stay like this.
Review, or Ulquiorra will hunt you down in the middle of the night and rip out your heart. Trash. :)