In the night, I hear 'em talk,

The coldest story ever told

Somewhere far along this road, he lost his soul to a woman so heartless...

The man in white condescendingly looked over the woman asleep on her couch. Her auburn hair was sprayed across her face, a part of it was stuck between her fleshy pink lips. He looked back to the duty at hand, getting her food ready for consumption.

As he set down the tray of overcooked chicken and pea's, he vainly tried to avoid looking over at the sleeping girl again. It often happened when he was around her, he knew that at the end of the day she was still trash. But something was different about her.

In his brief experience with humans he had come to the conclusion that the men were all disgusting remnants of sexual pleasure, some more open about it than others but all the same. They would be nice to the woman they knew, who were so oblivious to what these men really thought about them later when they were alone.

And the woman weren't any better, he came to realize. They would string these men along, blissfully ignorant to the effect they had, or perhaps they knew but liked to play the fool. Garbage, he thought to himself, complete.

Not her...

Perhaps he was losing his mind.

In retrospect, she was average. Her face was round, with gray eyes, and bright auburn hair. Her body was slightly above average, with a larger waist and chest than most human woman he'd seen, but in no way was she obese. And despite all these normal and average features, he was enamored. Dare he say, smitten. It was such a mystery how this girl who was overly hyper and sometimes annoying could catch his attention like no other woman he'd ever met.

He was suddenly thrown back to reality as she sighed. His eyes snapped over to her, his senses standing at attention. After a minute, he exhaled. She was dreaming, and the damage had been done. He couldn't look away, not now.

Her lips were pulled into a sweet smile as she dreamed of, Ulquiorra imagined, her precious Ichigo and her other pitiful friends. His insides burned with jealousy, which is what often happened when he thought of the strawberry blond man. It wasn't fair, he thought to himself, how that stupid ignorant child was deemed worthy enough to hold her affections. He didn't see why she would like such trash; he was impulsive, loud, and always pissed off. And what was ironic was how he never even gave this gorgeously average girl a sideways glance. It was cruel, really. She deserved the world and she got none. It was a beautiful tragedy to Ulquiorra.

Before he was thrown back to reality for a second time in the short time he'd been in this room, he felt something soft between his fingers. He looked down in amazement, his hand which had moved on it's own was now holding a string of her gorgeous hair between it's digits. His eyes relaxed slightly, as his fingers grazed over the softness. He than made another realization that everything about her was soft. There was nothing rough or edgy about her, she was warm and safe. He'd never experienced the feeling of being safe, being an espada he was always on guard and on edge. She was inviting to him. She turned in her sleeping state away from him, causing the strands in between his fingers to fall back into place. His eyes darkened, standing back up and leaving.

How could you be so heartless?

Present day, he stood in the aftermath of the battle with Ichigo. He had briefly enjoyed letting all his pent up frustration out on this weak child, he enjoyed the way she cried over his dead body. This is what you chose, he wanted to scream at her, this is who you chose. If he had any semnants of human emotion, he would have laughed at the way he was sprawled out before them. But as she started to cry harder, the damned substitute shinigami decided to come back to life, if you would even call it that. His hollow was awakened, and it was out for his blood.

He tried to fend it off as much as he could, but in the end it had taken his arm and leg. He looked over a couple times while he was getting blasted and kicked around and saw her looking at him as well. The expression on her face was pleading. Despite himself, he became at ease. The fight was no longer to show her how stupid she was for choosing this boy, but to show her how much he cared. To show her how he could protect her as well as Kurosaki did.

And despite all of his efforts to protect her, in the end when Ichigo's mask broke it wasn't Ulquiorra she ran to. He watched, the pain in his chest intensifying as she again cried over his body. His mind was blank, his body numb to the pain. Time stood still as he watched her in all her beautiful brokenness. How could she make him feel all these emotions and then tug them away all at once? He was unaware of Ichigo's consciousness returning, deftly hearing what they were talking about.

When he was about to attack the boy who had the audacity to take everything he'd ever wanted in his lonely existence and not even realize he'd taken it, his body began to disappear. In his demon-like form, his quick emotions of anger faded.

Ichigo yelled about it not being fair, which he wanted to laugh at. So many things were not fair anymore. How he could finally feel things for a woman so utterly heartless, yes that's what she was. All her talk of having a heart and being human was all a charade she had put up. And he had fallen for it. He had fallen for this heartless, beautiful girl.

As he reached out to her, they had a moment of clarity. For him, he realized that yes he does have a heart, and even after death it will only beat for her. For her, she realized that she would never be the same after staring into those green eyes, once cold now filled with warmth for her. She couldn't help the tear slide down her battle worn face.

Oh... How could you be so heartless?