A/N: Hello all. I'm sorry about the no update last week, but Moony had a sudden, strong desire to camp...or something...so we held off, she went and gallivanted about in a tent 'neath the stars, and here we are...

If anyone would like to know how MY life is going, I'll give it to you in two short sentences: 1) Dragon*Con, the largest cosplay convention in the world which was last weekend and is coincidentally located in my hometown, and 2) My birthday was on Sunday and I turned an odd number. The end. Luffs to everybody.

My sweet Orihime,

I am so very sorry for my last letter. I am not going to make any excuses for my incessant probing. What I was trying…actually, I said I wouldn't make any excuses. I hope you actually read this letter, I hope you aren't too angry with me. Please, find it in your heart to forgive me somehow.

This jacket is from Murciélago, with love.

I will not ask you any more questions about myself. It is now clear to me that you have no intention of regaining what we once had. I shall try to put you out of my mind. Unless you say otherwise, this will be my last letter to you.

Amorously,

Ulquiorra, Espada number 4.

Ulquiorra glanced over his letter one last time before he nodded quietly to himself, folding the paper up and taking the flowers and jacket from the bed. Tucking all the items under his arm, he set off for Halibel's quarters.

Regeneration.

Ulquiorra remembered very clearly one of the set of options that had been offered to him by Aizen – one of the many that his master had presented before him. Increase in power? Or instant regeneration of any external body part?

It had been an easy choice for most of the Espada and Ulquiorra included himself therein. However, his choice had differed from almost, if not all, of his comrades. Knowing himself to be already extremely powerful, he had chosen to keep his regeneration abilities, and he had still managed to be ranked 4th among them. He considered a wide range of abilities to be more useful than just one ability, such as his fellows had.

Apparently, intelligence could not be included in his wide range of abilities.

Why, in the name of Aizen had he been struggling this entire time, when he should have just regenerated himself, regenerated his emotions, his feelings, his desires – regenerated them to what they had been before he had met the woman and his shell had cracked and crumbled? Why hadn't he restored that heart of stone, the armor about his chest, the mask upon his face and the willpower beneath his skin? Why had he insisted on acting like a heartbroken teenager and thrived on the pities and favors of those sympathetic to his pathetic cause?

Ulquiorra didn't know, but the nonsense was ending here. He was through with being a weak being. If she did not know what they had before, he would make it so that he would forget as well. He needed to stop wasting time, concentration, and focus on this immature topic and return to what really mattered - being Aizen Sôsuke's faithful servant.

And that meant eliminating Ichigo Kurosaki.

Loose ends still needed to be tied up, however. It would be inconsiderate of him to assume that Halibel and Grimmjow would just automatically know to stop bestowing pity on him. He was going to deliver the jacket, flowers, and goodbye letter to the third Espada and wash his hands of this love ridiculousness.

After all, it brought only pain.

And there was no room in emptiness for pain.

Ulquiorra glided to a stop outside of Halibel's room and knocked four times upon it, as was his custom. It was swiftly opened by Halibel. She frowned a little at him and inclined her head as if asking what the matter was. Her eyes fell upon the flowers in his arms and her eyebrows shot up beneath her blond hair.

"Where did you manage to find those?" she asked him.

"It is of no matter," he intoned. "I have a final favor to ask of you. Would you please get these items to the prisoner Inoue Orihime, with my regards?"

He passed the items in his hands to Halibel, who took them with a quizzical look on her face. Yet no more questions passed her masked lips. She simply took the items and nodded once before turning away and closing the door softly behind her.

Ulquiorra then closed his eyes and felt outward with his mind, shouldering aside the spirits of other Hollows. He stumbled over the presence of his adversary quite accidentally – feeling his pressure streaking down the hallways of Las Noches rapidly, closely intertwined with the presence of a Hollow that felt familiar in a way that confused him. Pushing the thought of who it might be from his mind, Ulquiorra took off from Halibel's quarters, using Sonido to speed rapidly away from the door.

Once he got to the hallway above the corridor that the Shinigami was running down, he slowed and stopped suddenly as Aaroniero's spiritual presence was abruptly cut off. He cocked his head as an image ran through his brain – a girl with black hair impaled on Aaroniero's – or Kaien Shiba's – Nejibana trident. Closing his eyes in acceptance, he took a step forward so that he was looking down a long flight of stairs at the frozen figure of Kurosaki.

"You noticed," Ulquiorra intoned, and saw the boy's head whip around. His brown eyes were impossibly wide, his hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his skin was covered with dirt and blood. His earlier battle with Dordoni must have taken a great deal out of him. He is nowhere near full strength.

Kurosaki's breath inhaled with a loud gasp. A small whimper sounded, and Ulquiorra saw that a small, green-looking Arrancar female was tucked under his arm. He dismissed her immediately and returned his attention to Kurosaki.

"I thought you were just a boy with a lot of spirit energy," Ulquiorra continued, "but it seems your senses are pretty good too."

Kurosaki's eyes widened until Ulquiorra thought they might pop from his skull.

"You…"

"It's been a while, Soul Reaper," Ulquiorra commented, beginning to walk slowly down the stairs. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kept his gaze focused on the boy's eyes.

"You're…you're Ulquiorra!"

"You remember my name," Ulquiorra said, a little impressed, although he did not show it. "I don't recall introducing myself to you."

Neither said anything until Ulquiorra alighted on the bottom step. He looked up at Ichigo and stated, "Anyway, Rukia Kuchiki is dead."

Kurosaki's eyes widened even more, and his mouth opened. "W-what?!"

"Actually," Ulquiorra amended, "she and the Novena Espada killed each other. Her face was cut and a trident was thrust through her guts. She's quite dead."

"That's a lie!" Kurosaki insisted. "It was just a drop in her spiritual pressure! Anyway, you didn't fight her, so how would you know?"

"Ninshiki Dôki," Ulquiorra explained, although he didn't think it mattered. "It was one of the Novena Espada's abilities and one of his duties. He could instantly relay data about any enemy he was facing to save his comrades."

Abruptly, Kurosaki turned on his heel and began walking quickly away. Ulquiorra slowly rotated his body in order to continue facing him, and after he had gone a fair distance, called, "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to save Rukia."

He seems to have a bit of a hero complex. "I told you, she's dead."

"I don't believe you."

"Have it your way then," Ulquiorra conceded, "but shouldn't you kill me first?"

"I have no reason to kill you."

"What do you mean?"

"We may be enemies, but you haven't hurt any of my friends yet."

An image of shimmering orange hair flashed in his mind's eye; glittering silver eyes, a sparkling laugh.

Ulquiorra steeled his resolve.

How wrong Kurosaki was.

"You think not?" he asked quietly. "What if I told you that I was the one who brought Orihime Inoue to Hueco Mundo?"

He barely had time to bring up his hand in defense before Kurosaki was attacking him, fury in his eyes. That got him.

"Then she didn't come of her own free will!"

"How interesting," Ulquiorra commented dryly. "You came all the way here to save her even though you weren't certain of her innocence."

Kurosaki ignored him. "You realize what you've done?!" he shouted. "Because of you, everyone thinks Inoue's a traitor!"

"Yes, and that's exactly as I intended."

"You dirty…!" Kurosaki began, overwhelmed by hatred.

"Now do you have a reason to fight me?" Ulquiorra asked the Shinigami.

Kurosaki jumped back from Ulquiorra, sliding to stand at the side of the small female Hollow, who was lying on the floor with her hands over her head. He addressed her gently.

"Nel, stay back."

"Itsy…Itsygo…" she whimpered, looking up at him with tears in her eyes.

"Looks like we're going to do this the hard way," Ichigo announced to the girl, with a cocky grin on his face. Ulquiorra simply looked at him, and he continued. "Sorry, but I'm in a hurry," Kurosaki apologized, "-I won't be holding back."

He extended his sword hand with a defiant gesture, and black spiritual energy swirled around him. Ulquiorra watched silently, grudgingly admitting that he was impressed by the sheer force of the boy's power. He had definitely improved since the last time they had met…but that was not saying a lot.

"Bankai, eh?" he murmured, but then stopped abruptly as Kurosaki's face came into view. His eyes widened in surprise.

Settled upon Kurosaki's face was a Hollow mask.

Before he had time to think, Kurosaki was attacking him. Black energy streamed from his blade, and Ulquiorra blocked quickly with his forearm before the momentum caused both men to fly apart. The pillars in the hallway shattered as Ulquiorra regained his footing, focus evident on his features.

What was that? That spiritual pressure, that mask…He's like one of us!

His eyes widened again as a whirlpool of energy began to swirl around Kurosaki, making the wind lift in the room. From behind his mask, yellow, animalistic eyes glinted.

"It's over. Getsuga Tenshô."

A ribbon of black energy sliced its way through the air towards Ulquiorra. He lifted a hand out of his pocket to stop it, but the magnitude of sheer power was too great. Astonished, he rapidly drew his other hand from his pocket and added it to the barricade, but it was still not enough.

"No…" he murmured in surprise, before relaxing his muscles and allowing himself to be blown backwards through the wall, shattering layers of stone and landing on his rear in the sand outside in the sun.

He allowed himself a few seconds to recover, feeling irritated. Standing, he checked for damage – his uniform was slightly ripped, but otherwise he seemed to be fine. No broken bones from the crash, but his sleeves were mostly gone and his coattails were in shreds.

How annoying.

He sighed and picked his way back into the castle, seeing that Kurosaki and his little friend were conversing comfortably as though they had already won the entire battle, which was even more vexing. He raised his spiritual pressure and saw Kurosaki whip around, shock on his face.

"Well, well," he intoned.

Kurosaki's gaze zeroed in on him, seeing his slightly abused clothing but otherwise intact body. Disbelief marched obviously across his cheekbones. "Wh…what?!" he breathed.

"You surprised me. I couldn't stop that one, even with both hands," Ulquiorra allotted, willing to give the boy that much. He flexed his fingers, which were a little sore. "Was that the best you've got?"

Kurosaki simply stared at him, his mouth opening and closing but no sound emerging from his lips.

Ulquiorra raised one hand and dusted off his shoulder. "I think it was," he concluded. He moved his hand forward and lowered his middle, ring and pinky fingers, extending his index toward the stunned orange-haired boy.

"How unfortunate."

The green energy began to collect at the tip of his finger without him even needing to speak the command. Too late, Kurosaki realized what was happening and sprang into action.

The Cero blasted straight through the wall, carrying Kurosaki and his Arrancar comrade out of the castle and into the desert with it. As Kurosaki reoriented himself on the ground below, Ulquiorra leaped from the hole and flew to the boy's side. Too late, Kurosaki saw him – just in time for Ulquiorra's foot to connect with his face and send him flying into a huge pile of rubble in an overhang.

Coughing, Kurosaki attempted to sit up. The top half of his shihakushô was mostly blown away, and his right leg was also exposed. All the skin that could be seen was covered in blood and dirt, and fresh blood was running from his mouth and numerous small cuts on his body's surface. And yet despite all of this, the small Arrancar was still tucked safely under his arm, uninjured – albeit unconscious.

Ulquiorra stepped into the opening of the overhang, and Kurosaki sent him a glare as full of hate and rage as he could muster.

"When you went to block the Cero, that mask appeared again," Ulquiorra stated. "The transformation was very fast. But it shattered right away, didn't it? You won't be able to generate it again, I think."

He stepped closer, seeing Kurosaki's filthy ribcage expanding with every gulp of air.

"Give up," he commanded.

Abruptly, Kurosaki's black blade slammed into his chest. If Ulquiorra had any skin besides his Hierro, it would have pierced his heart. As it was, the blade scratched his skin slightly.

"I don't…give up," the boy on the ground panted. "You're the leader of the Espadas, right? So if I beat you…" He lifted his head. He was bearing a large, defiant grin. "This war's as good as won!"

Ulquiorra was shocked into silence. And I thought he couldn't get any dimmer. Apparently I was wrong.

"I see," he said, recovering. "How unfortunate."

He grasped Kurosaki's blade in his hand and used it to rip his uniform open, baring his rank of 4. He saw Kurosaki's eyes widen as he released the blade, which clattered to the floor in Kurosaki's loose grip.

"Four?!" Kurosaki gasped. "What?!"

"That's right," Ulquiorra said. "I'm the Quatro Espada. Ulquiorra Schiffer. I'm ranked fourth among the Espada."

He lunged forward abruptly and sunk his hand into Kurosaki's chest, impaling the boy on his fingers. Just as quickly he drew it out, watching Kurosaki gag on his blood and slump to the floor.

"Ichigo Kurosaki," he said, "You can't defeat me. And even if you somehow manage to, there are three Espadas above me. No matter how many times you get back up again, there can be no victory for you here."

He flung his arm to the side, spraying an arc of scarlet across the dusty floor. Then he let his gore-painted fingers hang back at his side.

"It looks like I overestimated you," he said quietly. "You're not as strong as I thought. This is the end for you."

On the floor, Kurosaki made no sound.

"Leave this world immediately if you can still move. If you can't, stay there and die. Your quest ends here, Soul Reaper."

Ulquiorra turned on his heel and left as Kurosaki's Bankai evaporated behind him.

Mission accomplished, my lord.