This story has no pairings, no ulterior plot. It is, in fact, a one-shot about Ulquiorra's thoughts in Bleach manga chapter 347 as well as my own little thing I'm throwing in at the end. If you squint and tilt your head, you might be able to see some Ulquiorra/Orihime, but you've gotta squint pretty hard.

This is depressing, morbid, and my own little peek into Ulquiorra's skull. Death incoming. Just so you know. If I neglected to warn you of anything else this has... well... I DID say depressing and morbid. You have been warned.

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Ulquiorra stared down at the grinning mass of blood, sweat, and completely infuriating persistence. This child knew nothing of despair, of hopelessness, something that Ulquiorra would be glad to show him. He longed to spill more blood along these white walls, to let... him see his own blood and realize just how little hope there was.

Him was the only word for this thing in front of him. Not yet a shinigami yet certainly not human... and definitely containing a bit of their own kind. The word abomination came to mind as he glared down at Ichigo.

He found himself irritated again as that infernal boy grinned up at him, saying things like he would win. Did he not see the power Ulquiorra possessed? Could he not see it was impossible? The child was so utterly naive and blind that it made Ulquiorra want to slash at his face until no expressions were discernable.

He lunged forward, only to have that insufferable woman get in his path, stopping him. She looked up at him with doe-like eyes, begging her "Kurosaki-kun" to be spared. What did she think he was? Human? Shinigami? That he had a heart just because they talked of hearts before?

He pressed his fingertips just over her heart again, scoffing and muttered in cold indifference, "Is this that heart again? Are you expecting me to find one and spare him?" He ignored it as Ichigo stared yelling and tried to pull himself to his feet. Useless, he could barely stand, there was no way he'd make it in time.

Then the human girl had the nerve to touch his face. He wasn't sure if it was because of some misplaced affection or curiosity about his current form, but his hand moved on its own and before either of the children could blink, before the quincy could fire the arrow he had cocked at Ulquiorra's head, the espada's hand plunged into her chest and did what he had started to threaten but never carried through with: He had pulled out her heart.

It was only after the action was carried out that his actions registered in his brain, along with other senses.

The smell was the first thing to get him. She was sweet-smelling as it was for a human, the smell of the blood, rather than tarnish her smell, only made her more delectable to him.

The next was the sight. There... there in her eyes was the despair he had craved from the boy for this entire fight. Her expression was one of shock and fear, the last expressions to be carved into her face before the lack of a heart would cause her body to shut down.

And oh the blood again... blood was one thing Ulquiorra enjoyed in this sad, near-monochromatic world of theirs. In this world of blacks and whites, the crimson splashed across her front made a sharp contrast, stuck out towards the viewer's eyes. To him, it was absolutely beautiful and for a mere second, he regretted killing her. This blood-splattered angel, arms falling outward away from her, her hair almost like a halo around her head as she fell backwards away from him... for the merest of seconds, he felt regret.

But then he reminded himself that if not for the warm heart in his hand, if not for killing her, he would have never seen her like this. She was beautiful because he killed her.

As she fell, his sight was ruined by two things. The first was the arrow that flew in his field of vision, obscuring her from him. Easy enough to dodge. The second was that damned ginger-headed abomination catching her, ruining the sight of her with the sight of him. So he was able to move enough to catch her, was he?

And then his non-existent heart leapt.

There it was. Despair. Hopelessness. Everything he had wanted in that child's eyes were reflected there now. He should have seen it as the basic solution. Kill the one person that mattered most, the reason these shinigami and humans came to Hueco Mundo in the first place. Destroy the entire reason so many of them had suffered and bled. It would make their cause all for naught. And to his immense joy, he could see it. See the utter despair.

Then, to his displeasure, he saw anger in the boy's eyes. Anger and vengeance. This wasn't going the way he hoped. Why could the boy not just suffer under the pain? What was this human heart that pushed them forward?

He tossed the heart in his hand aside, hearing a startled noise from the quincy as it landed at his feet.

Let them come. This was only a taste of the despair he would unleash upon Ichigo.

And when it was over, he would get to see more of the blood he loved so much.

Fin.