This is a rewrite since the original was deleted. I couldn't find the original. Besides it was a bit awkward so I fixed it. Here you go.

They say that while saints have a past, only sinners have a future.

Ulquiorra was sure that he was a sinner, just as he was sure that he had no future. And for a reason that he was completely oblivious to. He believed that whatever he did not see did not exist, believed it, fought by it, lived by it--he was defined by it. Yet when it came to thing that would kill him, he was as blind as, well, as a bat. The irony of the situation threatens to swell up and choke whatever life remained out of him.

That woman was killing him.

The gold that shone in his eyes was killing him. Killing him was perhaps the wrong word. His scientific mind supplied that she was not killing him. No, she was doing something much much worse. She was unmaking him. Whatever he was, whatever essence had followed him through all the painful transformations that had brought him to the state of being the Fourth Espada, Ulquiorra Schiffer, she was undoing. The threads of his being were being slowly pulled apart, one by one. Soon there would be none left, the fabric of his being would be gone. All because of a sunset haired woman that he had never actually viewed as a threat.

He had known she would be trouble the moment she came with him for disgustingly selfless reasons. Then when she had refused to break despite every hateful word he had clubbed her with, he knew. He did not know for sure when she had been defying him. No he had thought of her as being weak, pathetic and disgustingly weak. She was worse than that trash that she defended so blindly. At least that trash had some notion of self-preservation. The woman clearly had none. she was stupid trash. Stupid, selfless trash. That his eye could see and that was nothing his eye cared to see. Perhaps if he had taken better notice he could have foreseen what was happening as a possible outcome.

The part that amused him the most was that even in his most frightening state, there was no fear in her eyes. Resolve, hope, maybe a little anger but there was no fear. Even Kurosaki had looked afraid when he transformed initially and terrified when he had gone to his second form. He was glad he had shattered his mask, it made watching the fear blossom on his face so much more enjoyable. Behind his glasses Ulquiorra could see fear in the eyes of the Quincy. But the woman who should have, by all means, been terrified of him was not. She was glaring at him like she wished that she could find a more painful way to unmake him.

The wings on his back felt like a joke. He knew they weren't really there anymore and for a moment he did mourn the loss. He had enjoyed the feeling of flying, it was one of the things he did enjoy and one of the things he regretted not being able to do in Las Noches. Now of course he could not fly. The fairies that were negating his existence, they could fly. He could see their wings on the outside of the gold shield he was under. He reached up towards the gold shield. His arm felt so incredibly light, as though gravity had ceased to exist within the confines of the gold shield he was under. His finger reached for it but it remained elusive.

His entire body felt light, as though everything he was was disappearing. A part of him wished that she had used Tsubaki on him. She was probably furious enough to do it effectively. She had seen him scream at Ichigo. It had been the first time in such a long time that he had an outburst like that. It actually felt--it felt good to scream at someone. Usually he felt so numbed, so dead, to feel that sheer infuriation, it felt like an addict being given drugs. He wanted to scream and shout at the top of his lungs again. Even though he could breath, he had a feeling that any sort of vocal ability was long gone. What else was gone? His wings, his vocal chords, probably soon his body would be gone as well.

It was a nice thought that he would linger, in some form, for a while afterwards. He would be the glaring reminder of Kurosaki's failure and of the fact that for once that woman had decided to be something other than helpless. He had captured her when she had been training to be stronger, to help her friends or some pathetic reason like that. But he had taken her before she had been able to show any of that strength. Well here it was, "the violation of the realm of the Gods" in action. Or maybe she was working with the Gods. Ulquiorra had trouble thinking that there was a God who would have allowed him to remain in existence. Where was the God in dealing with the rest of them? Maybe this was all part of whatever plan someone had. If it was he was glad to be finished in it. He was weary of playing such a role anyway.

He allowed his eyes to drift from the fairies controlling the shield over Kurosaki's features still contorted in fear, disgust and confusion. He must be confused by her new strength. Unwillingly Ulquiorra felt amused at the thought. Good, he was glad that Kurosaki was confused. He would have preferred him to be in agony, but confused was a good second. The Quincy seemed to be taking it better but the fear and confusion in his eyes was all about the woman. Ulquiorra knew that neither of them had imagined that she was even capable of something like unmaking him. It was ironic really how little they knew about a woman they were willing to fight monsters to bring home.

They did not know that if she was frightened she slept with her hairpins in or clutched tightly in her hand. They did not know that she slept curled on her side, her back to the door so that if someone came in to spy on her she did not have to see them. They did not know that every tear she shed, every drop of blood she spilled--even what she was doing to him now--it was all for them. She had never taken anything for herself, it was all for her friends. She would go to hell for them but never for herself. It was disgusting really, her lack of self preservation. What was more disgusting was that none of them seemed to realize the lengths she was willing to go for them. If she was going to be pathetic and sacrifice everything, she should at least do it for people who were worthy of such selflessness, not trash like them.

The feeling of floating increased. He could barely feel the hard rock under his back anymore. He heard her inhale sharply, her fingers digging into the gold shield.

"Inoue, maybe you should--" the Quincy began.

"No!" Orihime cut him off, "I'm ending this right now."

Ulquiorra had to admire her determination. He had been with her enough to know that she was not going to be conscious for long. Still she stared at the shield, her eyes locked on the gold barrier. Her grey eyes slowly moved until they were locked with his. Ulquiorra stared back at them. They were perfect inverses of each other. He was dark, and cold, his hair plain and his eyes jarring. She was light and warmth, her hair stunning and her eyes rather plain. But still they looked at each other even as white began to cloud Ulquiorra's vision. He saw the sweat bead her forehead as she looked down at him, her body shaking.


That wretched shout was Kurosaki's, followed quickly by the Quincy's. Were they both in love with her? It would make sense that they would be slaves to such a pathetic emotion. He knew that woman was more than a little in love with the orange haired idiot who would never deserve such an emotion from her. She really was trash, giving her heart away so easily. Perhaps if she looked after herself a bit more they would not be in this position. Her teeth gritted together as she continued to look at him. The white seemed to swarm up, covering his vision like dust. It felt hard to breath as well, like the dust was getting in his lungs. He felt his chest spasm but coughing seemed to be impossible. Breathing seemed difficult as well. It did not hurt but the lack of control was shattering.

The dust seemed to swell up and consume him completely. He was not drowning, he was floating. Floating far away. The last thing he saw was her determined grey eyes and for some reason, when his own finally faded he was not afraid. Perhaps the anticipation of being unmade was worse than the act of it itself. He was not afraid or in pain or anything really.

He simply exhaled the last bit of air in his lungs and the world went away.

Orihime trembled violently as she held the shield in place. She heard Ishida and Kurosaki calling for her, their voices loud and worried but all she could focus on was the task at hand. Her hand was pressed tight against the shield, otherwise she would have toppled over a long time ago. Cold seemed to creep up her spine as she looked at swirling dust that filled the glowing half moon of her shield. Was that supposed to happen? She did not know. She had never really done anything like this before. She wanted to see the dust settle, she wanted to know that this was finally over.

She wanted to know that she had saved everyone.

Everything it was over, it had to be over. Everyone--everything--it was the end here. The end of all things. Good Bye Halcyon Days. But the dust continued to swirl, covering everything in the glowing half moon. She could not see what was going on strain got to be too much. Against her will the world began to slide out of focus. Her body trembled violently, as if she was the one who should be in there instead of him. Everything it was over, it had to be over. Her hand slipped down the side of the shield as the ground rushed up to connect with her cheek. Orihime's eyes slipped shut before the shield had fully dissipated. All she saw was gold and white before the world dissolved into darkness.

"Kurosaki," she breathed her eyes closing fully.

"Inoue!" Ichigo staggered to his feet, lurching forward on limbs that had no place in moving, "Inou--" he stopped dead in his tracks, adrenaline and shock the only things that kept him upright.

"Inoue," Uryuu breathed, looking at the two figures before him, "what did you do?"

They say that while saints have a past, only sinners have a future. On that day it was clear to everyone gathered there:

There were no saints in Hueco Mundo, only sinners.

Just to clarify, Ichigo is behind Uryuu. So those two figures are....

Are they dead? Or did Orihime do something else?