Chapter 2

The Emptiness of Despair

Reminiscences of the Cuarta Espada:

When I had felt my mind returning from the darkness, only one question had come to me: "Why?" My soul had been swallowed by the nothingness that I had craved for all of my remembered existence. The peace, the joy that comes from the absolute void had taken me. I had sunken into oblivion. I had become one with the emptiness. But then it had cast me out.

Why?

I sought nothing. I desired nothing. My purpose was nothing. Why would not the void accept me? How could I be rejected by that which made up the essence of my existence? It defied all logic and understanding. This was not how it was meant to be.

In silence, I cried from the depth of my soul for answers. I could yet see nothing, hear nothing, and feel nothing, but I knew somehow that I was being cast from the Nirvana which I had sought. I watched as my body was slowly reformed; I felt as my senses returned; I struggled with the pain of questions to which I had no answers as my consciousness gradually strengthened. Fully formed once more, I extended my claws to the void as it drew back from me. I demanded an answer.

Why?

Tell me. What must I do? The emptiness of the void is all I ask; why have I been refused it? What had I done to be rejected at the last? Give me the nothingness that I crave! Take me; swallow me into it! Do not cast me back into the world of questions with no answers, irrationality with no logic. Allow me to embrace that which causes no pain, no confusion, and no despair. Pure emptiness: nothing. Tell me why I am denied this wish.

Why? Tell me why.

...

But no answer came. Silence replied. Nothing.

...

How ironic.

Ulquiorra sat on his customary ledge, looking down at the wide, white spaces below him filled with the gateways to more places than he cared to count. A thousand worlds were within his grasp, but he ignored them all. They held no interest for him. Not now. "A mock-god," Kurosaki had called him, seeing that he chose to sit so high above everything. Foolish human. He could not understand. Ulquiorra cared not whether he was above or below, so long as he was separate. He wanted nothing to do with anything around himself. He wanted to be alone. He wanted quiet, peace, solitude.

The little Shinigami who now moved about busily beneath him had been a mistake, and Ulquiorra was not sure himself why he continued to endure the other's presence. When the Espada had found himself moving through dimensions as his body reunited with his soul, this space was the one in which he had chosen to remain. He had searched the other dimensions from here, striving to find answers, to find his enemies, and to find his master. But Soul Society was outside of their view. Hell was outside of their view. Aizen-sama was outside of their view. Where was he?

For so long, Ulquiorra had existed to do the bidding of Aizen-sama. In the beginning, he had obeyed because Aizen was strong. To disobey would have been foolish, so why should he not obey? In time, he had obeyed because it was habit. There was no reason to do ought else, so why should he cease to obey? Now that Aizen was beyond his reach, outside of his knowledge, he saw that Aizen had given him more than just power to do his bidding; Aizen had given him purpose: a reason to live. Without the Shinigami leader, what was he? He was nothing.

But the void had rejected him.

Aizen had abandoned him, whether by choice or by fate.

There was nothing left, and yet even the nothingness that he sought in this world gave him no comfort.

Why?

It was mere chance, so Ulquiorra believed, that he had seen the little Shinigami in the sands of Hueco Mundo, surrounded by grinning Hollows. It was capricious whim that caused him to reach through the dimensional portal and to draw the pathetic being into this realm he now called his dwelling ─ never again, he swore, would he call any place "home." It was, he told himself, a desire for knowledge that caused him to wait, allowing the Shinigami to regain his senses, allowing him to recover a bit from his overwhelming terror at the sight of Ulquiorra himself, before demanding to know the fate of Aizen-sama.

The Shinigami had not known. He knew little more than Ulquiorra did himself. Both knew that Aizen had been bound for Karakura town. But that was now weeks earlier. Ulquiorra had seen Karakura town through the cubes, and he had seen that it was undamaged. Had Aizen been so stymied that he could not wreak the smallest amount of destruction? Or had the humans been so swift as to repair everything in such a short time?

Where was Aizen?

Clearly, from the careless nature of the few Shinigami whom he saw stationed in the Land of the Living, Aizen was not ruling in the Soul Society. Clearly, from the chaos and disorder that he saw in Hueco Mundo, Aizen was not there either.

As he sat on his high ledge, as far from the "worlds" within this world as he could go, Ulquiorra realized that he actually hoped that Aizen-sama was gone. It's true that Aizen had given him purpose; Aizen had given him power; Aizen had affirmed his existence. But Ulquiorra did not want any of this. He wanted nothing. He craved nothing. Why could he not acquire what he sought? And why, when he would sink at times into the nothingness which he created in his own mind, did it no longer offer him comfort? Why?

For days, then weeks, then months, he watched the little Shinigami beneath him, scurrying from one view to another, ever watching for those whom he could help. Ulquiorra had responded wearily to the pleas for help as the little being begged him to assist every lost soul. At first, the Shinigami had irked him, and he had ignored the other's pleading. But then, when the other didn't give up, he found himself curious. He and this one were similar: they had both been abandoned. Neither would return to their home. They were both alone. And yet...

The little one still had purpose.

Fool, thought Ulquiorra. Does he not realize that striving will leave only pain and despair as failure inevitably arises? In strength? There will always be one stronger. In helping? There will always be those who cannot be helped. In building? It will always be destroyed. In destruction? It will always be rebuilt. There is no purpose. There is no worth. All is meaningless. He should accept that.

Ulquiorra never voiced these thoughts aloud. He never spoke at all now. He had told the Shinigami his name when he had asked the fate of Aizen, and the other seemed now to think that that gave him the right to request boons of him.

Ulquiorra-sama. The designation was meaningless to him. What did he care what he was called? Ulquiorra Cifer was his name. That was what he should be called; that and nothing else. Even that, however, was not worth the effort of saying to his small companion. What difference did it make anyway?

"Kurosaki-san!" he heard the Shinigami gasp one day.

His ears twitched.

"He's ... he's being attacked by a minor Hollow. But he isn't fighting!"

Ulquiorra opened his eyes and looked down at the Shinigami, wondering what he might mean.

"It's like he can't see it. It's going to kill him! Ulquiorra-sama!" The forlorn face turned toward him, the familiar pleading in his eyes. "There isn't anyone near him, and he can't get away from it! Please!" Turning back to the view, he gasped. "No! Run, Kurosaki-san!"

Ulquiorra was torn as unpleasantly familiar emotions threatened to reenter his mind. He found himself wanting to rip open the portal and attack Kurosaki himself. After all, wasn't it that boy's fault that he was here like this? Why had he not finished their fight as Ulquiorra had asked? If he could no longer defend himself against a minor Hollow, then Ulquiorra would simply crush him with one hand, showing him no mercy: the way of the Hollow. Kurosaki should be made to understand that.

On the other hand, Ulquiorra had no desire to reopen his past. There was nothing there but pain and regret. For what had he striven for so long under the command of Aizen-sama? The glorious new world that had faded as footprints in the sand? Power that was completely overshadowed by a human boy with a Hollow transformation? Peace and tranquility that was broken by every being with whom Aizen had chosen to surround himself?

The past was best forgotten. Aizen-sama was gone. To revisit it, even for the sake of revenge, was pointless. It would change nothing.

Even so, the thought of Aizen gave Ulquiorra pause and finally caused him to drop to the floor and to take the cube from the little Shinigami. Was Aizen truly gone? Or was it possible that he had survived? If anyone would know, it would be Kurosaki Ichigo.

After all, there was only one thing Ulquiorra wanted more than to be left alone: he wanted answers.

A/N: To Meladi1: It is implied in the after-credits scene of ep. 288 of the anime that Hanatarō was lost and separated from the other Shinigami while in Hueco Mundo and that they forgot about him, so I didn't make up that part. He is, however, seen returning to the Seireitei with the rest of them in episode 310, so, yes, I did make that up the part about him ultimately being left behind.