A/N: These journal entries are by Ulquiorra!


In three days (discounting the weekend) summer break will begin, and I am leaping with ecstasy. Sarcasm aside, I am hardly looking forward to a month or so of aimless menial tasks borne from the inevitable boredom.

…I know the only person who shall have access to the contents of this journal is I, yet I'm still finding it hard to so brashly inscribe my thoughts and my feelings. Perhaps I truly have none of the latter? Sometimes, people arrive at this odd misconception about me involving a depth or intellect which I'm quite sure is completely nonexistent. That regarding emotion is much less hard to empathize with.

In fact, taking into account that most of the entries in this wretched journal are detailing a certain Aizen Sousuke, an impartial onlooker might easily infer the owner to be an insipid teenage girl from any insipid teenage flick.

I have to admit, this is pathetic. I live for moments like lunch, like our shared class, like when we walk to study hall together, when I fate blesses me with a seat beside his, when he asks my opinion of a piece of prose. And they feel like seconds, or hours, I can never exactly determine one from another then.

I don't dare say I love Aizen or anything like that, but when I see him flirting with someone (as is his default response at times), or when I see him smiling, reading a note slipped into his locker by a desperate admirer…it can be a struggle not to impetuously murder an innocent furry animal.

I dare say it's infatuation. Or obsession, the depth of which still surprises me as it reaches new, staggering heights everyday. Truly, I would do almost anything for Aizen. If I were completely honest and thus melodramatic with myself, I'd kill for Aizen, both literally and metaphorically. Sometimes I just wish I'd just stop falling for him, that I could hit the floor and mop up what's left. It'd possibly hurt less, too.

16 May

Ulquiorra Schiffer


On hindsight everything looks so stupid. I'm sorely tempted to procure a lighter and burn this journal in a sensational gesture fitting with the tone of my previous entry. But who knows, perhaps one day it'll be the last remnants of this trashy, dystopic society and attain a cult status in the literary world second only to Anne Frank's. I can't help but wonder how Aizen would annotate me.

That chimney Grimmjow Jaegerjacque would have a lighter. So would Gin. Both of which I scarcely fancy a conversation with, for completely different reasons altogether. With Gin, it's simple envy. Can envy ever be simple? I don't want to elaborate. With Grimmjow…I'm not quite sure. Plenty of people irk me, from that dullard Kurosaki Ichigo to that thick numbskull Yammy. Both don't come close to Grimmjow, though. He just seems to know all the right buttons to press to get me all riled up, sometimes I can barely control myself from lunging forward and clawing at him.

He isn't completely stupid. Kurosaki Ichigo is undoubtedly thick as clotted cream; Grimmjow might be just as thick as cream slightly melted from a warm summer day.

It's the things he says, and the things he does, how he dismisses everyone and everything. How he swaggers around. He's completely disrespectful toward Aizen; he is crude, and uncouth.

He makes hurtful comments. I hate to admit it, but what he says does hurt, terribly. I can't brush it off, because usually, regrettably, it'strue. He laughs when I wait for Aizen for an hour, while he's inside flirting with the exchange student. Yes, it was raining, but I wanted to do it. No, it was just a drizzile. I didn't even realize I was sick until he sneered at how I lookedlikeshit. He laughs when I fall asleep during a test because I was up helping Aizen with council work. He laughs at everything, and it makes me doubt and defensive and turns something I find joy in doing for Aizen into something…less. What right has he to do so?

Aizen hurts, too. The sentence sounds strange but I shall leave it since it is true as well. With Aizen, everything is in extremes. There are no absolutes. Pain is crippling, also exhilarating. You forget yourself, you forget everything, and that could be the allure of Aizen Sousuke.

To me, maybe. Some of his other admirers just like him for his looks and great…ass.

Not that I don't.

(Good lord, I am as shallow as Halibel's cup size before the skilled handiwork of her surgeon.)

17 May

Ulquiorra Schiffer


Today…was a terrific day. It really was.

I woke up this morning still feeling drained and frustrated, and still quietly fuming at Grimmjow. Funny how people say writing your problems down makes you feel better. On the contrary, identifying my pet peeves fills me with a vengeance I find very difficult to reign in.

I stopped by Aizen's room at the hostel to wake him up before school, as I always do. But today, there were no extra shoes outside his door. I knocked, and he showed up after a while. Usually, he'll smile and thank me, before telling me I can leave. Then, I'll take the bus back down to the Karakura region and the train to school, which makes me just on time, if I'm lucky. (He hails a cab, so it's fine for him. He has to be early, he's student president)

I was taken aback when he invited me into his apartment. He's done that before – I can remember those few incidents very clearly – but usually just so I can help him fix something or listen to a speech he's going to give later. Instead of any of those scenarios, today he asked me to have breakfast with him. I felt weak in the knees, but of course I agreed and followed him in. Aizen's dorm is well-furnished and nice, I'll write more about it another time. He changed in the toilet while I sat on his chair, and tried not to look too much in case he thought I was being rude.

We went to a small café near his dorm, it was quiet but not empty, and patronized by the kind of people one might call jock-intellects, like Aizen. He said he would treat, and I ordered the cheapest thing on the menu, at which he chuckled and changed my order for me despite my protests. Did I ever mention how his laugh is warm like honey?

We ate. What we ate is so insignificant, but I want to remember it. And we talked. It was just small talk. I tried so hard to be interesting. I made him laugh a couple of times. Is it selfish that I tried so hard in part because I wanted to hear that laugh again?

When we were getting to the last dredges in our tea cups, Aizen paid, even though I offered to. He should know he doesn't have act all genteel and charming around me like he does around those girls. It doesn't matter to me.

We got to school via cab, and people were looking at us as we got out of the vehicle together. I felt awkward, but it was a nice feeling too. I nearly let slip a twitch in my mouth. The rest of the day, I couldn't stop thinking about the morning. I nearly got snared by one of the authoritarian senseis during a lecture, but I got away by making a vague educated guess.

Another good thing happened during lunch. I was reaching for what appeared to be the last pair of chopsticks in the tray when – what do you know? – Grimmjow Jaegerjacque reached for them at the exact same time. Instead of snatching them away like I thought he would do, he offered them to me. And I was about to accept when a thought crossed my mind. It was a prank. He and his saucy friends had probably smeared an ill child's saliva or itchy powder on it. He thought I'd fall for it, and I nearly did.

I'm glad I didn't use the chopsticks, they'd be laughing at me for weeks if I appeared with my lips swollen or down with a horrible cold.

I walked away feeling quite triumphant, and when I discreetly turned my head, there was Grimmjow looking quite crushed, his prank foiled. Fool. I sailed through the rest of the day.

I wish I could have more good days like such.

18 May

Ulquiorra Schiffer