A/N: Hi everyone! Happy New Year! I am surprised that I haven't submitted any angsty stories up until now because I'm usually known for writing depressing stuff instead of cute fluff (not that I don't like writing cute fluff). I really hope this isn't OOC, and please tell me if I'm good at writing angst or not. Reviews and constructive criticism are appreciated. Enjoy! :)
Disclaimer: I own Ulquiorra merchandise and my heart. And a bottle of bleach! Not the idea for the manga or anime, though.
Hearts, feelings, friendship. Ulquiorra lay down in his bed pondering these topics, and he did not get it. The foolish woman seemed to think and talk about practically nothing else. Why couldn't she just think about helping Aizen-sama instead of worrying herself over friends who would all die sooner or later? He would probably have to kill some of them, and he could just imagine the fury and sorrow in her silvery eyes if he were to tell her that. As if she were not aware of it already. Then, she would spout even more nonsense about topics that Ulquiorra didn't understand. Every time he saw her, he would try to convince himself that he had no need for such unnecessary things, nor did he have to understand them. He was instructed to be her guard and caretaker, not her friend or her patient. Still, Ulquiorra hated it when he did not understand things. It frustrated him to no end.
Ulquiorra arose from his bed to enter his bathroom. He stood in front of the mirror and looked at his reflection and saw the remaining fragment of his hollow mask perched atop his tousled locks of inky black hair. He remembered that hollow masks were supposed to be the manifestation of the hearts and emotions that Hollows had from the time when they were humans, and how shattering a hollow mask delivered a Hollow to Soul Society. He and his comrades had shattered masks, but they were serving under Aizen-sama in Hueco Mundo. Perhaps that meant that the Hollows who depended on their emotions and other things that interested the woman would end up in Soul Society whereas those who were unburdened by such unnecessary thoughts were handpicked by Aizen-sama to form his army of Arrancar. But why did he become a Hollow? Hollows came about from being overwhelmed by their emotions to the extent that they prohibited themselves from going to Soul Society. Ulquiorra would never allow such a thing to happen to him. He traced the viridian tracks under his deep cero-green eyes wondering what could have possibly happened in his previous life to etch them into his otherwise emotionless face.
His gaze went down to his hollow hole, something he understood much better. He was empty. Void. Absent of anything that could have caused him pain and suffering. Nothingness must be the same as happiness. That must be it. It was the woman who didn't understand, not him. Her soul was filled with friendship and hope, but that had not done her any good. Each friend, each feeling, even the thing she called 'heart,' had turned into weapons to be used against her. Her shield against her bleak reality was caving in on her, her 'heart' getting crushed beneath the oppressing weight.
Then why did the thing called 'heart' intrigue him so?
One more thing to look at. Perhaps it held answers. Gently, he tugged open the top part of his paper white robes. Deserted emerald eyes drifted over the tattoo signifying his rank as Aizen-sama's Cuatro. Right over where the heart should be. Slowly, he allowed his pallid hand to rest upon the four. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. A heart was beating. He knew of its material existence, but what secrets lay buried within it?
Submitting to his curiosity, he reached into his hollow hole and pulled the pulsing organ out.
He ignored the pain it left him in his chest. After all, he knew that hearts caused pain, but he wanted to know if they could ever grant happiness that wasn't emptiness. He watched the beating organ stream crimson ribbons down his arms, staining his coat. He would have to wash that later.
Empty green irises took in the scarlet, blood filled lump as he clutched it anxiously, mentally probing it for some meaning between the steady rhythm of its contractions. Like him, it did not to seem to possess any emotions. It simply carried out its duty of circulating the blood through his body. Why would the prisoner project her feelings onto it, much like she did to him? Never mind. Perhaps the heart did have emotions. It seemed to be mocking him with his secrecy. Yet he did not want it to stop. Not until he could understand it.
He had stopped hearts many times for Aizen-sama; so many times that he had lost count. He had only stopped six for himself. Only six.
Foolish. He had been foolish and naïve, weak in his pathetic desires to have something that could be taken away from him. Thus, he was betrayed before he had known friendship. Perhaps it was better that way. If what he felt after killing those Hollows was what the woman called sorrow, he should count himself lucky that he had not gotten closer to his 'comrades' before they tried to devour him. But if he did… Would he have known true despair? His heart's blood stained him, like theirs did back then.
Ulquiorra wanted emptiness. He wanted to understand the 'heart.' How could he do one without sacrificing the other? He didn't want the pain of having something to be taken away. He wanted no material to shield himself from the garbage heap known as reality. All barriers would collapse eventually, leaving him defenseless against the mental waves of filth that would then crash over him like his blood dripping down his hands. He noticed he was squeezing the heart too tightly, so he loosened his grip. He could not repair his heart, nor his other vital organs. That was one thing that set it apart. It lay outside the powers of his regeneration.
Why had Aizen-sama appointed him to care for a creature so different from himself? Did he want him to convince the woman to discard the fragile barriers around her soul and embrace nihility? Or… Could it have been something else? A thought Ulquiorra had pushed to the back of his mind resurfaced. Had Aizen-sama wanted the woman to give Ulquiorra a heart? He didn't want to consider that possibility. Aizen-sama should know that he was a loyal, willing servant. He didn't need emotions to chain him up in service. He didn't need a 'heart.' But if it were true…
WHAT HAD HE DONE TO DESERVE SUCH PUNISHMENT?
Ulquiorra choked back a sob as tears traced the streaks under his eyes like morning dew on grass. What could he do to satisfy Aizen-sama with his loyalty? Where had these tears come from if he had no 'heart' to create such sorrow? Why did he have to look after Orihime Inoue? Confusion and frustration racked his narrow frame as he tried to search for the meaning in the clear tears of his crying eyes and the scarlet tears of his bleeding heart.
He had not reached a conclusion, so he pushed the organ back through his hollow hole. He felt the broken veins and arteries around it repair themselves as the absent organ returned into his chest. Twisting the sink faucet, he held a small towel under the running water until it was well soaked. He turned it off and proceeded to wipe away the remaining blood and tears that stained his pale skin.
After he regained his composure, he exchanged his sullied robes for new ones and proceeded to get a meal ready for the woman. Maybe he could eventually come to understand the 'heart' while still remaining void.
A/N: I think Ulquiorra is actually creating a barrier for himself out of nihilism to protect himself from his emotions. Orihime's emotions are her own reality. I hoped you liked this. Please review!