A/N: SORRY THIS IS LATE~

I'm going to tell you a little story. My mother currently does not have a kitchen, because it's getting renovated, and so we decided to go to the food trucks for dinner. I was like – "NO I HAVE TO WORK" but of course I went ignored…so I sat at the food trucks and nibbled my hamburger because I have spacers (again) (ugh) and listened to that Pierce the Veil/Kellin Quinn song about a million times and rocked out because I cut/dyed my own hair and it looks like a cross between Hayley Williams/Skrillex/Jordan Witzigreuter and is perfect for headbanging with until my mom made me stop because people were staring.

The end. I hope you enjoyed it.

Carefully zipping up the jacket on a new uniform, Ulquiorra considered his next move. Kurosaki was dead, he knew – by now the boy had surely breathed his last. Somehow, vanquishing the orange-haired teenager hadn't quite granted him the satisfaction he had expected. He still felt…

He still felt what, exactly?

He pushed those thoughts away and slid Murciélago through his belt, sliding on his sandals and heading for the door. He was headed for Aizen-sama next, to report the boy's death – although he doubted that his master was unaware of this occurrence, it was protocol to alert him.

Halibel had caught up to him on his way back to his room and given him her latest letter. He read it quickly, but gave it little thought. At least he had taken the thing. He had had half a mind not to even accept it. But he scanned it quickly, then crumpled it in his fist and left the ball of paper on his desk.

He was done with that nonsense.

Letting his footsteps trace the familiar path to his master's room was slightly comforting, and it was a mindless action. It needed no thought, so Ulquiorra cleared his mind and Orihime's spiritual pressure was back.

That was all it took.

All.

It.

Took.

He didn't hesitate, didn't think. In the time it took him to start Sonido-ing to her room, he was doing it. With no whys or plans of what he would do when he got there. He just had to see her. Just had to know she was okay.

Hypocritical trash.

He didn't care.

He had to know.

Had to –

He stopped outside her room and stared in shock at the destruction it had become. A hole had been blasted through the wall, rubble was scattered on the floor. Inside, all the furniture was still the same, albeit dusty. One thing was missing – Orihime. Instead, Aizen's two playthings, Loly and Menoly, were standing inside the room, staring at him with a mixture of undisguised fear and hatred.

He stared back, keeping his face stony. "What is the meaning of this?" he intoned, staring the girls down. Both of them flinched.

He took several steps into the room, turning to face the cavern blown in the wall. "Who did this?" he asked.

Loly's voice came to him. "G-grimmjow…"

His eyes widened. Quickly he controlled his expression once more, turning his head to look at the black-haired girl. She was trembling, and she flinched at his gaze, but she held her gaze strong.

"…I see."

He turned again and strode from the room, letting himself sense for Grimmjow's spiritual pressure. Grasping onto the brash sensation of the blue-haired Espada, he leapt into Sonido once more, rapidly pulling himself closer to the man who had destroyed Orihime's habitat.

As he grew closer to the presence of the 6th Espada, he became aware of Orihime's spiritual pressure as well, along with the green-haired Arrancar female and –

Kurosaki Ichigo.

The boy was alive?!

He picked up the pace and was soon outside, under the false sky Aizen-sama had erected. The sunlight flashed over the sand as he sped over the desert, kicking up little clouds of dust with each step. He could see the cave wherein Kurosaki's corpse had lain, not even one hour previously. Anger swelled within him and he took one last spring with Sonido, shimmering into place behind Grimmjow.

It took him about half a second to register the scene before his eyes. Grimmjow was standing in front of him, his back to Ulquiorra. Before Grimmjow, Orihime was kneeling, with her orange dome erected over Kurosaki. The green-haired child was whimpering on the floor.

Under Orihime's dome, Kurosaki was lying, eyes open, clearly alive.

Grimmjow whipped around to face him. Orihime spun about as well, faint recognition sparking in her eyes. His eyes flickered on her, seeing that she was healthy and fine, and a weight was lifted off of his shoulders that he wasn't even aware he was carrying. Then he returned his gaze to Grimmjow.

"What are you doing, Grimmjow?" he asked calmly, trying to hide the rage that shook behind his voice.

Grimmjow was silent, glaring at him. His eyes looked uncertain, like he was debating something internally.

"What's wrong?" Ulquiorra asked him, taunted him, goaded him. "I'm talking to you."

Silence. The only thing that Ulquiorra could hear was the rapid breathing of Grimmjow, the girl, Orihime, and Ichigo – which was like a blow to the stomach.

"What are you trying to pull – healing the wounds of an enemy I already defeated?" he demanded. He pointed one black-nailed finger at Kurosaki's head. "I killed that man for Aizen-sama. You are aware that killing him goes against Aizen-sama's wishes?"

"So he's back to Aizen-sama, now?" Grimmjow finally spoke.

"I do not understand what you mean," Ulquiorra said stiffly, even though he did.

"Just because you had one little spat with the woman, now you're back to being an emotionless robot. I got to say, I prefer the other Ulquiorra."
Orihime made a small noise, and Ulquiorra fought to keep his eyes on Grimmjow.

"It was not just a spat. She made clear her intentions. I did not wish to inflict further pain upon her. You saw what happened the last time she remembered – we had to visit her in Szayelaporro's lab; we snuck into the room while she was asleep." Another noise from the woman. "She obviously had no intentions of remembering me. I decided to let the situation dissolve."

"Fuck you," Grimmjow shouted suddenly.

"…What did you say?"

"You heard me," Grimmjow said. "I said fuck you! What happened to the life you promised me? You shook on it, asshole! And you're just going to "let the situation dissolve"? Not if I've got anything to say about it, bastard!"

Grimmjow attacked him so suddenly that Ulquiorra barely had time to react, but he managed to bring up his hand in time to stop Grimmjow from ripping through his chest. He felt the bones in his hand splintering, and when the pressure from Grimmjow's attack abated, he could instantly feel every carpal reassembling beneath his skin.

Their eyes locked, and he could see the bloodlust mixed with desperation, wild abandon, in Grimmjow's azure orbs.

"You don't seem like the type to break promises," Grimmjow hissed.

"Perhaps you should re-evaluate your judgment of my personality, then," Ulquiorra countered.

Anger clouded over Grimmjow's face. "Selfish bastard! You never think of anyone besides yourself, do you -?"

He stopped, because Ulquiorra was in the air, charging a Cero above his head. Growling, Grimmjow brought up his hand and charged a Cero of his own, countering Ulquiorra's. Both were flung away as the top of the column exploded and Ulquiorra searched the air for Grimmjow, because he had to find the blue-haired man before he found him –

He felt an arm wrap around his shoulder, felt a hand press to his chest. His head shot to the side, and he saw Grimmjow, clinging to his shoulder with a focused expression. Ulquiorra's gaze moved to Grimmjow's hand, leaving a tiny box that floated into Ulquiorra's Hollow hole.

"I think you need to re-evaluate your judgment of your own personality," Grimmjow hissed into Ulquiorra's pale ear. "I'll give you a chance to do so now."

He leaped away from Ulquiorra as a box expanded from his Hollow hole, building rapidly around the dark haired man. Ulquiorra hissed.

"Shit."

The box snapped into oblivion, and Grimmjow was gone.

Ulquiorra tried to curse again when he realized what Grimmjow had done. The Caja de Negación was designed for the punishment of lesser Arrancar, sending them away into another dimension. No one was quite sure about what happened in the Negotiation Box, seeing as no one had ever come back. Then again, it was not designed for use on Espada. Ulquiorra figured he could be out in about three or four hours.

But that would be too late.

He tried to curse, but stopped. He tried to open his mouth, but there was no muscle response. A feeling of dread sank in the pit of his stomach, and he raised his hands to his face, letting his nails slip against bone.

Ulquiorra opened his eyes.

Around him, the bodies of a thousand black hollows lay decimated, broken, bleeding. Their glowing, chomping mouths were still. The walls of a pit rose above him, climbing higher, higher. He looked down – the ground was wet, soaked with blood. He looked at his hands – the skin was red, dripping with gore. He looked at his body – his skin was white, without clothing.

He was a Vasto Lorde again.

Incapable of speech, of hearing, of feeling, of tasting, of smelling. Reduced to one sense, reliant on one sense. He turned his brilliantly emerald eyes upward, seeing an exit from the pit high above. He stretched his black wings and leapt into the air, soaring up, up, out of the pit.

He alighted on the sand gracefully, shaking out his wings and folding them behind him. Lifting his head, he let his eyes fall upon a tree before him – and his eyes widened behind his mask. It was that tree – the tree Aizen-sama had found him in. His original void.

Each branch spiked jaggedly into the air, seeming to glow. The tree – well, it was more like a bush, really – spanned farther than even his eyes could see, The branches shone in the moonlight like metallic blades, serrated razors emitting more of a glow than looked naturally reflective of the weak light of the moon.

He could hear it calling to him.

Whispers curled their fingers to him, beckoned him. In his deaf ears, he could hear it. With his numb skin, he could feel it. In his anosmiatic nose, he could smell it. With his ageusiatic tongue, he could taste it…the call of the tree. Come. Sink yourself into my embrace. Fall into the void I represent…fall asleep in my branches and never wake.

Like a dead man walking, Ulquiorra took a hesitant step forward.

That's it. Come. The pull of the tree increased, like a hand was wrapped around Ulquiorra's middle, towing him along. He took another careful step, his body boneless.

Gomenasai, Ulquiorra-kun! I suppose you think I'm a pig, don't you?

Ulquiorra's body froze as the woman's voice reverberated through his mind.

Sugoi! That is so kawaii, Ulquiorra-kun!

Now unsure, he looked at the tree, seeing the sharp branches in a different light. Should he choose the sharp embrace of the void, or the soft embrace of the woman?

If you love someone, you want the best for them. You want them to succeed. You always want to be with them. You try to protect them and you would sacrifice anything for them. At least, that's what I've felt from my experience.

I see. So, if all four of these urges were present, would that mean love was present?

Well, yes, I suppose. Why are you asking?

I see. Well then, Onna, I think it would be appropriate to say that I am in this "love" with you.

Love. What an abstract word. How vague in its definition. What a mysterious concept it was. Unlike the void, which represented control, exactness in its entirety.

Come. whispered the tree. Come to me, Ulquiorra.

Ulquiorra went.

He walked to the tree with his head held high, giving into the pull. Giving into the temptation. He lifted his arms and accepted the tree's embrace – falling onto those serrated razors, slicing his skin, splitting his mask. Blood ran from the abrasions on his skin, but he could not feel the pain. He could not feel anything, for he was one with the void.

He lay down in the emptiness, impaled on so many glowing blades.

Brilliant emerald eyes, staring up at the starless sky, staring up at the unchanging moon, closed for the last time.

He sunk deep into the void.

He would never rise again.