Chapter 7

The Study of Human Emotions Revisited

A/N: This chapter will be referencing scenes from my previous work "What is Kindness?" albeit only briefly. Also, the first minor UlquiHime moment will finally appear! To all who wanted this moment to come sooner, I understand; I would have liked that myself, but please understand that it wouldn't be in-character for Ulquiorra. I know that some like to write about him waking up on the dome of Las Noches, gazing up at Orihime through the orange shield of her Sōten Kisshun, and saying, "By the moon of Hueco Mundo, thou art the fairest maiden I've ever seen. By thy kindness, thou hast melted this heart of stone which I did not know existed. Henceforce, I do foreswear my life of evil, pledging my all to stand by thy side forevermore: as thy protector as needed and as thy lover as thou wilt allow. Accept this broken man before thee, Princess of the Sun." Very romantic, yes, but VERY OOC! Sorry, but Ulquiorra just isn't like that. He would have stood up, looked her in the eye, and said, "Foolish woman. I will now finish killing your friends." Seriously, it's going to take considerable time for him to start to actually understand (let alone feel) emotions of the sort that we like to see in him. Don't worry; it will come!

The next morning, Ulquiorra received his first taste of a human high school. The experience was a bit overwhelming, but not more than the Espada could handle. He did receive a wide range of reactions (mostly negative) based on his appearance, and his new human "friends" seemed a bit uncomfortable with this, wondering how he would take it. Ulquiorra, however, could have laughed, had that been in his nature. Clearly they did not know his personal history: he had been "different" from the time he had emerged from the darkness so long ago. As a pure white Hollow in the midst of a world of blackness, he had been ostracized, feared, hated, and even attacked for his looks throughout his early life. It was a part of who he was; it was a part of what made him strong. He had not chosen to retain his natural appearance on a whim. He wore his uniqueness in defiance of any who would come against him. Let them come. The discomfort of the humans who knew what he was, stemming from the sneers of the other pathetic humans around them, was laughable. A few odd looks and strange comments from a group of young human trash were nothing to Ulquiorra; he would not waste the energy to even acknowledge them.

Of course, derision wasn't the only reaction he evoked. After being introduced as a transfer student from Europe, after pronouncing his own name in emotionless yet dulcet tones, and after walking to his assigned desk and seating himself with his powerful yet elegant movements, several of the female members of the class began to whisper to one another. His rich, black hair, his toned muscles, barely visible beneath the short sleeves of his uniform, his finely shaped features, and his exquisite eyes became the immediate fascination of those girls able to overlook his overly-slender figure and pale, weird skin color. The fact that he acknowledged none of them and spoke very little while never appearing shy, and the fact that he was self-confident, clearly displaying a great inner strength, while not exuding an aura of conceit, gave him an air of mystery, adding to the enchantment he inadvertently produced. Before the end of the day, he had garnered more than enough looks of interest. It was fortunate that his cold demeanor and intimidating gaze were sufficient to keep most from approaching him, but even these didn't stop the smiles and winks.

Noticing these reactions among the females caused consternation, disgust, and amusement respectively in the minds of Uryū, Ichigo, and Orihime. Ishida was wary, half-way hoping that Ulquiorra would be oblivious, and fully hoping that when and if the Hollow realized what they thought of him, he would choose to ignore it. Ichigo (usually blind to female emotions anyway, but hearing a few whispers that were obvious enough to make him unable to miss their meaning) decided that the thought made him sick. His first impulse was to confront Ulquiorra at the first opportunity and to warn him away from encouraging these schoolgirl crushes. Fortunately, for once, his brain actually caught up with his actions, and he realized that this Arrancar would never lower himself even to acknowledge these "petty, human emotions." Ichigo then shrugged, deciding that there was no need to address the situation at all. Orihime, on the other hand, wanted to burst out laughing when she noticed it. She wondered whether Ulquiorra might blush with embarrassment when confronted with a starry-eyed girl, asking him on a date. Would he even know what a date was? Did he even know what kissing was? Again, she wanted to laugh, thinking of the somber Arrancar with a love-sick human on his arm. She wisely decided to hold her emotions in check until they were safely alone; then she would press him to see what he thought of the subject.

Orihime had suggested that they leave the school going different ways each day, and that Ulquiorra could catch up to her on the way back. After all, he had his sonido, and she would just be walking. Ulquiorra had acquiesced without question; it was of no consequence to him. So, that afternoon, when they were again walking down the streets together well away from the school and friends, Orihime turned to him with a playful smile.

"Did you see how some of the girls looked at you?" she grinned. "I could hear them talking when Sensei introduced you to the class. They said you were cute!"

"Hm," was Ulquiorra's indifferent response.

"It's probably a good thing that you don't smile much right now," continued Orihime, "because if you did, I think that they would probably fall in love with you even more! But then again, maybe some of them like guys who are more serious. It makes most people seem smarter when they don't smile. Of course, I think you'd seem smart either way, but maybe that's just because I know you, and I already know that you're really smart."

Again, Orihime smiled up at him, but Ulquiorra didn't answer, walking calmly, eyes staring straight ahead of himself.

"So," began Orihime hesitantly. "What do you think about it?"

"About what?"

"About the girls being attracted to you?"

"It is to be expected."

At that, Orihime blinked in surprise. That clearly wasn't the reaction that she'd thought he'd have. "Huh?" she asked. "Really?"

"Human women will naturally seek a mate who they believe will give them strong or otherwise powerful or important offspring or who they believe will be able to protect them," continued Ulquiorra unperturbed. "They will be 'attracted' to those whom they believe most capable of this: hence, women with lower intelligence will attach themselves to someone such as Kurosaki Ichigo, whom they will be able to see is physically strong. Women with higher intellect will be attracted to someone such as the Quincy who shares that quality with them. For those with high spiritual pressure, it is to be expected that they will feel an attraction toward one of the same, although, in their case, they will likely not understand why. The human women who are attracted to me are simply those able to sense my strength without realizing my identity. If they knew what I was, then they would feel no such attraction."

"It sounds so unromantic, when you say it like that," murmured Orihime, hurting a little over being called unintelligent, even if he didn't know that he was doing it. "What about love? Love isn't always logical like that."

"Love is an imaginary human concept, most likely invented by weak men, unable to find mates otherwise, or by fragile-minded women, wanting to find some justification for an attraction that is, by nature, foolish."

"How can you say that?" exclaimed Orihime in horror. "Love is beautiful and strong and makes people do good things and help others. It makes people human. It's the most wonderful thing that anyone can ever feel!"

Ulquiorra looked at her but didn't answer.

"Maybe you've never felt love, but when you do, you'll understand," she continued. "It's something so amazing that you can't even describe it!"

"I see that you still delude yourself when it comes to the concept of human emotions," he replied, turning his eyes ahead of himself again unfeelingly. "You choose to believe something to be real because you want it to be real."

"Just because you don't understand it doesn't mean I'm wrong," countered Orihime. "I know that love is real."

"Your denial of fact is irrelevant to reality," was his cold reply.

"Love is real!" snapped Orihime, growing angry despite herself. "I love my friends, and they love me too. Lots of people love each other, and you can see it when they're together."

"You, Inoue Orihime, always see in others what you wish to see," responded Ulquiorra. "You believe what you wish to believe about them, regardless of what they think or feel themselves. You believe that you love your friends, because you are afraid of being alone; you cling to others so that you may draw strength in numbers, believing that you are insufficient in and of yourself. This is likewise the reason that your friends cling both to each other and to you."

"That's not true," insisted Orihime, almost shuddering in horror. "That's not what love is. My friends and I . . . we do love each other."

"Your friends are weak on their own, hence they cling to you and to each other. This emotional bond is simply an admission of weakness."

"They came for me!" exclaimed Orihime. "They came to Hueco Mundo to rescue me! If it wasn't for love, then what was it? They risked their own lives to try to save me!"

"It was foolishness, as I said once before," he replied callously. "Although, with Kurosaki Ichigo, it was pride. His apparent caring for you is no more than a stroking of his own self-worth: the desire to prove his own strength and to deny weakness by refusing to allow harm to come to those whom he has stated that he will protect. He came to Hueco Mundo to test his own strength and to prove his own worth; nothing more."

"Stop it," she whispered.

"Your personal feelings and beliefs about others are delusions," he stated coldly. "Love does not exist."

"Stop it!" she cried, clenching her fists in fury. "Just stop! Love is the most beautiful and powerful thing in the world! It makes a person human, makes them good, and . . . and . . . and it's something that a heartless Hollow could never understand!" Turning away from him suddenly, she ran down the street toward her apartment, not looking back.

Ulquiorra looked after her in silence, not reacting to her words. For a long moment he stood there, not moving forward, immersed in his own thoughts. He wasn't sure why he so wanted her to understand the truth of what he was saying. He knew that if she realized that her dependence on her friends was merely an outworking of her own lack of faith in herself then she would surely see that she had but to strengthen herself in order not to require this weakness. Her friends made her weak, just as she made them weak. Together, they could each be manipulated by the others; alone, that would not be the case. It was true that she had not been strong enough to stand on her own against many of the enemies that had come against her, but that was no reason to delude herself into thinking of her companions as anything more than necessary accouterments in battle. To recognize her own weaknesses should make her want to grow stronger, not cause her to defend her mindless attachment to those whom she ought to wish to become unnecessary to her.

Perhaps she was ashamed of this weakness and wanted to deny it. Perhaps she took comfort in her delusion, believing it to be proof that she was not, in fact, weak. In that case, it was understandable that she would be angry and perhaps even embarrassed when he tore away the facade, revealing the truth for her to see. And yet, seeing that it was truth, she should learn to embrace it. It upset her now, but if it worked to make her stronger, then this fantasy of hers ought to be destroyed. There was no benefit in believing a lie. She should come to realize that.

Again, Ulquiorra wondered why he even cared what she felt. What difference did it make to him whether she believed in these naive concepts or not? He should be indifferent to it. She could think what she pleased. Even so, as he searched his own mind for the answers, he knew: she was strong; her friends were strong; and there was in them a strength that could not be explained by mere physical or spiritual prowess. Wasn't this the reason that he had come? To discover what gave them this strength? It was not possible that the basis lay in some non-existent emotional artifice, but it was in something nonetheless. Perhaps this concept of love hid a deeper truth: one which he did not yet understand but which he might yet be able to discover. Perhaps that was why she defended it so ardently.

However, perhaps something else she said was also right: perhaps he, as a Hollow, was incapable of understanding.

It was not a pleasant thought, but it had to be considered.

Having reached an uncomfortable pause in his musings, Ulquiorra stepped forward again, following in the direction in which the woman had gone. To stand in the street, alone with his thoughts, was not an appropriate action here in the Land of the Living. Once again, he reminded himself that he was not in Las Noches. He was here as a human: he should attempt to comport himself as such.

The apartment was not far, and he arrived there shortly. Entering, he closed the door gently, removed his shoes, and walked into the main room. He could hear the sound of quiet whimpering, coming from the direction of her bedroom. He paused, listening, then stepped quietly toward it. The door was slightly ajar, and he lifted a hand to push it open, but then hesitated.

"May I come in?" he asked, feeling a bit strange for asking, but deciding that, because this was her domain rather than his, he should behave accordingly.

For a moment there was only a few sniffles, and then a quiet voice said, "Okay."

The door slid open silently beneath his touch, and Ulquiorra entered. Orihime sat on the edge of the bed, one arm pressing something to her chest while the other hand held a crumpled tissue. Ulquiorra now saw clearly that he had caused her pain by his words. It had not been his intent. He had wanted her to see the truth of what he was saying, and he had, at the time, been oblivious to her own feelings, but it had not been his desire to be cruel. As he looked at her now, he was struck with the similarity of the present to the second time that they met. Then he had taken her from her friends through his actions; now he was taking her from her friends through his words. But then she had been weak, unable to stand alone against the fearsome enemies that surrounded her. Now it was different: there were few enemies left that could come which she could not conquer. She had no need of her friends. Even so, he realized that she wanted them, whether she understood why or not.

She was not ready to stand alone. He could see that. Her mind was so used to depending on others that she could not accept the possibility that she did not need them. Very well, he considered. If that was the case, he would humor her. She would either learn in time, or she would continue this way for the rest of her life, always relying on others. It made no difference to him. Rather, it should make no difference to him.

Stepping forward again, Ulquiorra strode calmly to the bed and sat down beside her. Whether it was recompense for his having hurt her or simply repayment for her having provided him with a place to stay, he decided that it was his duty to offer her comfort at this time, seeing that it was he who had caused her this pain and that that was what she now required. It is true that he was still not familiar with the best means of doing so, but, fortunately for him, something about this particular situation was almost eerily familiar. As he had watched the tears still forming in her eyes, though she fought to keep them from falling, two voices from the past had come back to Ulquiorra's mind:

"A gentle touch says a lot." That, combined with, "You don't have to say anything; just sit and listen."

He hadn't understood it then; he didn't fully understand it now; but he remembered that it had worked then, so long ago. Why not try again? Without a word, he extended his hand, placed it gently on her shoulder, and waited. For a time, Orihime continued to sniffle, not looking at him. She didn't speak; she didn't move, other than to wipe her eyes whenever a new tear fell. Ulquiorra was patient, however. He didn't move either. At last, taking a trembling breath, she loosened her grip on what she was holding and looked down at a smiling picture of a young man with black hair.

"My brother," she murmured. "Sora."

Ulquiorra looked at the picture silently.

"He took me away when I was a child," continued Orihime. "He took care of me. He kept me safe, and . . . and . . . and he loved me." She shook her head, apparently trying not to cry again. "Love is real! There wasn't any other reason for him to take care of me! He could have gone alone; he could have left me. He didn't have to be burdened by a crying, baby sister. I wasn't any help to him at all. I made it harder for him, really. But he took care of me anyway, because that's who he was: he was a good person. Because . . . because he loved me!" She paused and again wiped her eyes. "After he died, he turned into a Hollow and attacked me and Tatsuki-chan. But then, when I told him that I still loved him, he . . . he . . . ." Her voice broke, and she began to sob, pressing the tissue to her face.

Ulquiorra continued to sit silently, looking down at the picture. He said nothing, because there was nothing to say. He did not understand the workings of "family," but he had never tried. So, she had had a brother. He would not offer an opinion on that subject; he had no opinion to give. Finally, Orihime regained control of herself.

"Sora gave his life for me," she whispered. "He died; he killed himself with Kurosaki-kun's Zanpakutō to make sure that he never hurt me. He . . . he loved me." She turned to look Ulquiorra straight in his cold, green eyes. "Love is real," she breathed. "No matter what you say."

Ulquiorra simply met her gaze calmly, still saying nothing. She searched his eyes, her own brown ones looking deeply into that emerald abyss, searching for something, but she could find nothing there. If he felt anything, it wasn't up for display. Finally, she sighed, lowering her gaze. She blew her nose, then toyed with the tissue, not looking at him.

"You think I'm just a silly, weak, emotional human, don't you?" she asked sadly.

For a moment longer, Ulquiorra didn't move. Then, gently, he lifted his hand from her shoulder and laid it beside her hand, his ivory skin and black fingernails contrasting sharply with her own soft, pink skin.

"Kurosaki said that I look like a freak," he said calmly, looking down at their hands. "Do you agree with him?"

Orihime blinked in surprise. He certainly had a way of saying what she never expected. "Huh?" she asked.

"I could look like you now, if I wanted," he continued. "Urahara and Kurosaki both wanted me to look like the other humans here. I refused, because that's not who I am. This is who I am. This is who I want to be. It doesn't matter what others think of me; it will not change who I am." He again looked into her eyes directly. "You are a strong woman, though you are human," he said tonelessly. "If others think you weak or silly or emotional, then what does it matter? You should know who you are. If you are who you want to be, then disregard them. If you are not who you want to be, then change yourself. It does not matter what anyone thinks of you. It does not even matter what I think of you. It should never matter. Know who you are yourself, not what others think you ought to be."

Orihime just stared at him. As he watched, tears again formed in her eyes and her lips began to tremble. Suddenly, she leaned forward, wrapped her arms around him, and pressed her head to his shoulder, again crying softly.

"Thank you," she sobbed.

Ulquiorra didn't move at first. He wanted to tell her that it was silly to thank him, seeing that he had merely stated a fact, but he didn't think that it would do any good while she was so emotional. He didn't understand why she was so emotional over something so simple. When she didn't let go, he moved his own hand to her shoulder again, thinking that she would prefer that. He then waited in silence while she gradually calmed herself.

"I'm sorry I called you a heartless Hollow," she whispered at last.

"There is no reason for you to apologize," was his simple reply. "What you said was true: I am a heartless Hollow."

"No." She shook her head against his shoulder, holding him more firmly. "No, you're not. I won't believe that."

Ulquiorra found himself almost amused by her words. She still believed only what she wanted to believe. No matter what he said, she would not be swayed from her own, emotional convictions about the world and about the people in it. Somehow though, that made her who she was, and Ulquiorra found that who she was was now beginning to fascinate him once again.