Title: Why I Cry
Characters: Ulquiorra and Orihime, basically
Rating: Er...T, I guess
Warnings: Death...I would have your tissues close by!
Spoilers: Only for those who only watch the anime
Word count: 1,473
Disclaimer: Ulquiorra and Orihime do not belong to me. They belong to Tite Kubo. Lucky guy..I'm just borrowing them.
He did not know how many Arrancar still had memories of when they had been humans. To be perfectly honest, Ulquiorra, the fourth Espada, couldn't care less. He wasn't sure why he still had memories of when he was alive; he did not want or need them. All that was important to him now were Aizen-sama's wants, needs, and orders. At the moment, all three of those involved taking care of the human girl that he had brought to Hueco Mundo.
Ulquiorra hated the girl, Inoue Orihime. She was the reason that he had started getting back those troublesome memories of his life as a human in the first place. They had first started to emerge the first time that he had met her. At first, they were just little snippets and he could not gain any meaning from them. The crying face of a young woman who looked surprisingly like her. And blood. Lots of blood. After the girl started living in Las Noches and he had to spend time around her as her guard, he started getting memories more frequently.
Now, it's not only the images of his past that he gets; it's the feelings associated with them.
Despite what many thought, Ulquiorra could feel. He just rarely showed his emotions. To him, not only were showing his emotions not worth the time or effort, but only trash revealed them for anyone to see. No. He would keep his emotions to himself. However, these memories had confused him. He knew of sadness, anger, happiness (although he did not really experience this emotion and only knew of it through what Aizen-sama had told him about it), but the emotion that was attached to his memories was foreign to him. All he knew was that it made his body ache and feel numb at the same time. It was not a feeling that he relished.
The most frustrating thing about these memories, though, was that he could not figure out what the meaning to them. No matter how many times Ulquiorra tried to piece the images together into something coherent, he would come up with nothing. It was starting to take a toll on his nerves, even if the others around him did not notice it. So, when the girl started to go on and on that her friend was not dead, he had had enough.
"It doesn't make sense. Why are you so caught up over who lives or dies? The fact is, all your nakama will eventually be destroyed by us. Don't act like it's such a big deal just because one person got ahead of himself. They all should have been able to predict this from the very start."
"...stop it," she whispered. But Ulquiorra ignored her plea.
"And if they weren't, then their own stupidity is the sole cause. It's only natural to want to laugh at such a foolish group. Why can't you do even that?"
He could see that she was focusing her attention fully on him now. Her eyes were starting to harden with each sentence that came from his mouth but he continued.
"If it was I, I would simply be filled with anger at the pathetic nature of those losers who decided to run in here, completely out of touch with reality and their own power."
Then, the unimaginable happened. She slapped him. Inoue Orihime, this slip of girl, who was not yet a woman, had slapped him. What confused him the most was that he had let her. It was not outside his capabilities to stop something like a little slap from a human girl. He was the fourth Espada! And yet, when Ulquiorra saw her hand getting closer to his cheek, he couldn't raise his hand to stop her, no matter how much he tried. It was as though some invisible force had paralyzed him.
The moment that her hand touched his cheek, though, everything fell into place. The memories that Ulquiorra had struggled to understand suddenly made sense. He remembered.
"Please...you...don't want to do this! Please! You know you don't want to!" she begged. She was on her hands and knees pleading. Tears were rolling down, marring her beautiful face and causing her striking orange hair to stick to it; her big, brown eyes were filled with more tears that threatened to spill.
He looked down at her impassively, or, at least, what he hoped looked like it. The Führer had order him to kill her. No. He had been ordered to dispose of it. He flinched inwardly at the term, knowing that at one point that had been his mindset as well. That was before her, though. When he had first met her, he had thought the same. But then she smiled at him. That smile that could bring light to the darkest depths of Hell. That smile that started to challenge everything that he had believed in. And now, that smile that was forcing him into the toughest decision of his life.
"Did you not hear me, Reichsleiter? I told you to dispose of it!" the Führer repeated. He could tell that the Führer would not repeat himself again.
He closed his eyes for a second and allowed all the memories that the two had shared together to wash over him. The first time their hands brushed and the awkwardness they felt. The first time that they really talked. The first time that they kissed. Made love. The way her hand fit perfectly into his. And most importantly, her smile and the way it made him felt like the world was just the two of them.
Then, he opened his eyes and his hand moved to his gun. He saw her eyes widen in disbelief. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, he aimed the gun at the middle of her forehead and their eyes met. He felt his finger pull the trigger.
And that was it. He had killed her. Her body slumped over into the pool of blood that was quickly forming from the hole in her head. Her hair, now soaked in blood, was spread around her like a halo. Her eyes, that were once bright and lively and warm, held none of those things. Her eyes were empty and dull and it disturbed him greatly. But most importantly, her mouth no longer held that smile that he loved...and it never would.
He wanted what he felt inside to match his outside. He wanted to cry. He wanted to take her into his arms and weep until it was his time to die and go to Hell; he knew that was where he would go. But he couldn't. He just stared at her, his heart twisting and turning, feeling as though it were about to burst.
The last image that went through his mind before he put a bullet through his own head, through his left eye, was of her smiling face.
The rush of everything disoriented Ulquiorra for a second. Just a second. Until he realized where he was and what had happened. The girl had slapped him and was now looking up at him with her big, brown eyes, so full of hatred. He stared back at her and readied himself to slap her back. But then, when the time came, he couldn't do it. And then he knew. Inoue Orihime was that nameless woman. He was the one that had loved her...and killed her. Suddenly, Ulquiorra knew that that slap hadn't been enough. Even if she had slapped him a million times, it would never amount to the pain that he had caused her.
"I will come again in one hour. If you haven't eaten by then I'll restrain you and force you to. That is a promise," he said, in a slightly softer tone than he normally would, though he doubted that she would notice the difference.
Closing the door behind him, Ulquiorra could hear her weeping inside the room. That feeling that had puzzled him came back, except stronger. However, this time, he knew what it was: guilt.
As he walked down the hall, he remembered a question that she had asked him earlier in her stay, when she was first brought to Las Noches. Before she learned that it was futile to try and have a conversation with her guard.
"Ulquiorra-san? Why do you have those tear marks on your face? It makes you look like you are always crying," the girl had pointed out.
"...because."
He had never thought about why he had the tear marks down his face. More importantly, he hadn't really cared about them. They were something that Ulquiorra had been created with and that was all that he needed to know and care about. Until now.
"Because I am."