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The heart was a foolish thing.
And yet, his sat squarely in the palm of his hand. Offered up to the woman he tried so desperately to break. She’d made him understand that his heart existed. It beat for someone, just as hers did.
Grimmjow.
They knew Kurosaki would come for the girl. Neither of them expected this tenacity, this hunger. Or maybe they did? Kurosaki was as much a hollow as any of them now. Ulquiorra knew that.
In the moments before Kurosaki and his associates – his friends – invaded Las Noches, Grimmjow came to Ulquiorra. Stood in his chambers, eyes focused on Ulquiorra. Staring into the depths of emptiness itself.
Grimmjow said, “Will you wait for me?”
And again when Grimmjow passed the negacion cube into his chest. When desperation won over what little loyalty existed between them.
“Will you wait?”
Ulquiorra could feel his body crumbling. Kurosaki had been far stronger than he ever thought. That desperation again. The desire to live. To devour the thing looking to end him. A hollow’s true nature.
The fight meant more than Ulquiorra cared to admit. It cost things Ulquiorra couldn’t name.
The heartbreak in Orihime’s eyes tore at his chest. What little bit of his heart that still resided there. Orihime stretched out her hand to him. There wasn’t much time left.
Ulquiorra murmured, “I understand now. In my hand, there is a heart.”
He turned away from her, away from the others. What remained of his strength went to using sonido. His wings were gone; turned to dust on the frigid wind of Hueco Mundo.
“Ulquiorra!” Orihime’s voice echoed across the dunes.
With every step, he felt more and more of himself eroding. Fading. He’d soon become the sand of Hueco Mundo, resting alongside ancient giants.
Not yet.
Not until he found Grimmjow. Until he kept that damned promise. Until he made Grimmjow understand.
Grimmjow’s reiatsu barely registered to Ulquiorra. The battles that raged around them threatened to consume it. What little bit of Grimmjow’s energy remained led Ulquiorra far from the canopy of Las Noches and down into the very bowels of the fortress where the sand was touched by artificial sunlight.
Pain lit across Ulquiorra’s senses. His vision swam. He pushed forward. Faster, faster. A flash of blue on the sand. Wreathed by red. Grimmjow. Ulquiorra skidded to a stop next to him. His body pitched forward, and he struggled to keep himself upright. The wound to Grimmjow’s chest was deep.
Fatal.
Ulquiorra staggered closer. His right leg faded, and he hit the sand on his belly. He couldn’t die. Not yet. He hooked his claws into the sand and drug himself toward Grimmjow.
Grimmjow remained motionless. Even when Ulquiorra fell across his chest. Maybe… maybe he was dead.
Grimmjow whispered, “Is this supposed to be heaven?”
Not dead then. Ulquiorra shook his head and curled what remained of his body around Grimmjow. He lifted his hand to touch Grimmjow’s cheek.
Ulquiorra’s fingers crumbled away. “No.” Heaven was far from their reach. Hell waited to swallow them both.
Grimmjow struggled to sit up. The wound tore wider, spilling fresh blood down Grimmjow’s chest. Ulquiorra struggled to flatten his palms against it. It was beyond repair. They both knew it.
“Ulquiorra.”
Ulquiorra laid his cheek on Grimmjow’s chest. It would be over soon.
Ulquiorra whispered, “I lost.”
“You lost?” Grimmjow echoed.
Ulquiorra could feel energy moving toward them. Familiar. Orihime, Kurosaki, and the Quincy. His head felt so heavy. His senses began to fade. He forced himself to sit up. To look at Grimmjow.
If I am to die, I want to carry his face with me into the void.
It would be his only solace.
“I know what it means to have heart.” Ulquiorra slid his palm over Grimmjow’s chest. “I know now where my heart resides, Grimmjow.” His eyes slipped closed. His promise had been kept.
An arm wrapped around his shoulders. Squeezed. Grimmjow whispered his name. Shouted it. Ulquiorra could feel Grimmjow shaking him, begging gods neither of them believed in. Ulquiorra wanted to stay. He wanted to learn more about his heart. He wanted…
The ache in Grimmjow’s heart pushed into him. He could hear it in the thunderous beating. Idiot. He’d bleed out faster if he didn’t calm down. Ulquiorra was a corpse. Couldn’t he see that? There was so little of him left now.
Ulquiorra could feel death coming.
Then a warmth and a different kind of promise. A voice shouted, “Soten kisshun. I reject!”