A/N: HI! It's JerichosPhantom! This is a Ulquiorra oneshot tribute to his awesomeness and the awesomeness of UlquiHime. IshiHime,
Ichihime, it would serve your best interest to leave. NOW. Please Enjoy, constructive criticism is loved as much as criticism can be loved. 'Cuz even though you guys are awesome enough to help my writing skills, it's still criticism ya know?
Disclaimer: JerichosPhantom doesn't own Bleach or any of it's character, though I own several Bleach manga volumes, a Ichigo plushie, and a "Bleach Wall". Wished I owned Toushiro though.
As I faced the orange haired boy, I felt disgust course through every fiber in my being. Unfortunately, the disgust I felt wasn't directed
towards the boy but myself. How could I let this human trash actually defeat me? The battle wasn't over though, even if my time was limited. The
internal organs he destroyed wouldn't come back like my arm. The trash spoke, saying something about cutting off his leg to match my missing
one,to make it 'fair'. How ridiculous, but I wanted to finish this before my life expired so whatever finishes this battle quicker is acceptable I
suppose. My eyes widened in surprise when I felt my right wing suddenly become my lighter. Ah. My time was up. I'm fading. I ordered the trash
to finish me. He refused, yelling nonsense about how this wasn't how he wanted to win. I didn't see why he cared since he won. Moronic trash. I
turned to see the woman, the palaces' fallen angel (she had always been quite beautiful for human trash), in what remained of her tattered white
dress, staring at me with an expression I could not understand. Behind her lay the wounded Quincy but she nor I paid him much attention. I gazed
at the woman,searching. Why was she looking at me like that? Like I'm not her enemy? That I didn't capture her, or keep her prisoner? Was this
because of the Heart? I slowly reached toward her, I as faded to dust, my eyes, voice and expression emotionless as always. After all I didn't need
emotion; I had no Heart. I reached toward her and asked if she was scared. She gazed at me miserably but said no. She wasn't scared of me,
even in this form. Why? She reached for me as well, and for just a brief moment, not even a heartbeat, our hands met, before that faded as well.
Oh… I get it. So is this it? What's in my hand? Compassion, Mercy…Love? Is this what the humans call the Heart? I chance one last look at the
woman. She's still reaching for me as if her Heart can bring me back. What a foolish woman. But then again, as I fade to dust and am blown away
by the dry dessert wind, I'm reaching for her as well.