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regasssaTitle: Friendship, Hatred and Science - Part 1 & 2
Word Count: 5053
Rating: PG 13 for now, for language
Pairing: Uryuu/Ichigo
Warnings: AU, violence, dark themes, mild bad language
Summary: The battle with Szayel Aporro Granz ends without interruption; this is what happens to Ishida after that, how his life changes and how his friendships suffer. Does Kurosaki's vow extend to saving even him?
Disclaimer: Bleach and its characters belongs to Kubo Tite, I make nothing out of their use.
The last breaths of death hurt; his brain, starved of oxygen, struggled to force his one remaining lung to tear in each tortured breath. He couldn't force himself to stop, and so he was made to suffer one painful breath after another, wondering whether the next one would be his last. The blue sky above Uryuu Ishida seemed to go on forever -- it reminded him of the home he would never return to -- but even that was just one of Aizen's tricks. This sky was a fake one suspended underneath the darkness of Hueco Mundo's night.
Another terrible breath. How many did he have left now? A few feet from him lay the shattered body of Abarai Renji, face down in the rubble from the destruction of Szayel Aporro Granz's Espada palace. It was impossible to tell whether he was alive or not, and even Kurosaki's fierce flame of reiatsu seemed to be fading now.
Damn... He closed his eyes as tightly as he could, trying to imagine away the science textbook images of how his insides should look. Somehow it only made the pain more difficult to bear to see it in neatly drawn lines, with tidy labels stating what the organs and bones had once been. His last thoughts couldn't be about that... He had to think about what he'd put on the line to come here -- what his failure would mean. Orihime was out there somewhere waiting to be rescued. He would never see her again.
The abject misery of that realisation hurt more than all the punishment that had been done to his body. He had never expected to die here...but shouldn't he have? He was weak -- in comparisson to Kurosaki, his power was negligible. And yet without his help, would Kurosaki have made it this far? They'd thrown themselves at the walls of the enemy's fortress, expecting the same dumb luck to carry them through that had made kept them alive during their attack on Seireitei.
His next breath gurgled, and he coughed, not surprised to taste the familiar coppery tang of blood on his tongue. He was going to drown, slowly -- it would be more painful than bleeding to death, blood pressure dropping until his heart couldn't beat any more. In that respect, Renji was lucky.
Was this what it felt like to die?
"Open your eyes, Quincy."
Open his eyes and face his killer. Szayel's voice purred with the satisfaction and arrogance of an easy victory, he was smiling around his words; a hollow, Arrancar smile. If he was going to die he would do it as a proud Quincy, as an Ishida, looking fiercely at the man who had defeated him -- not as the frightened schoolboy Uryuu, who even now tried to hide from the world in his dying moments, tried to hide from his killer.
"You'll die any moment," Szayel pushed. "Wouldn't you like to hear what I have to say, first?"
Blood and sweat stung his eyes as he forced them open. The bright blue sky cast the Arrancar into shadow above him, that much at least was a relief. He could pretend to be fearless without having to see the hollow's face. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't manage a word; his one remaining lung was still struggling just to keep him breathing.
Szayel crouched down, features swimming into focus -- the vast killer-wings had vanished, leaving the tidy scientist behind once more. After all that fighting they hadn't even left a scratch. Uryuu didn't resist as his glasses were removed, leaving him in a grateful state of short-sightedness.
"I've changed my mind about killing you," Szayel said, sweetly. One long fingered hand swept into focus, gloved fingers falling gently on his neck. It was a little late for that, Uryuu thought, closing his eyes again rather than trying to resist being touched. Any moment, Szayel had said. His body had been crushed from the inside, and there was no way to fix that kind of damage. The pulse that had been roaring in his ears was growing threadier now, so that he could almost hear the blood pouring out from his internal leasions.
"Any idiot can kill something," Szayel sang, and now Uryuu was sure that he was brimming with pure arrogance. "The real talent is in nursing the flame of life. Luckily for you, I've conquered immortality."
Immortal...? No, it couldn't be... He forced his eyes back open, though it felt as though he were trying to lift bricks with his eyelids, staring up at the Arrancar. How could a monster like this be immortal? He tried to speak, but gurgled instead, and Szayel lifted one elegant finger to his lips to silence him. "As beautiful as you look with your white lips stained with your own blood, I'm afraid trying to talk will kill you before I get started, and that would be rather a waste, wouldn't it?"
The prick of a needle stung his throat, but that tiny pain was nothing to the raging agony of what came after, as his insides seemed to ignite all at once. Everything went blissfully black.
* * * * *
Where was he...? His body felt heavy, but his breath was coming without difficulty, both lungs working when he took a gulp of air. The sole source of any discomfort was that his throat was dry as though he had been sleeping too long, a mere inconvenience in comparisson to his near death experience. His eyes felt heavy, his glasses were wonky, and his hair was sticking to his mouth, but he was very much alive.
"I know you're awake, Quincy, your pulse has quickened. I think you'll find that you can sit up now, I've repaired the damage that was done to your spine."
Uryuu forced his eyes open with great effort, testing out his arms by reaching up to push his hair out of his face. Drool had stuck some of the strands to his chin -- had he slept with his mouth open? He sat up heavily, only now looking at his surroundings.
Apparently he was sitting on the floor in the middle of a dark laboratory. There were walls of shiny black monitors and opalescent white countertops covered with flashing lights and interesting symbols. On a huge island towering over him on the right were experiments in progress -- he could just about see the severed head of a hollow, its eyes still glowing and alive beneath it's mask, electrodes sticking out of it. His hands ran instinctively over his own face, checking for anything that might be sticking out of him, and he tried to stand up, yelping in shock as he hit an invisible ceiling and found himself suddenly sitting down again. Experimentation found walls in every direction.
So he was caged, was he? Caged and dressed in a thin white kimono that let in too much cold. Szayel looked down at him with lively eyes, as though he were a favourite pet that had just learned how to obey a new command. "I thought I'd tell you about my experiment. You should be pleased -- I don't indulge many of my labrats with explanations."
Labrat?! He wasn't going to be experimented on! He wouldn't let it happen! Inside he was fighting, panicking; he even thought about throwing a fit, leaping at the no doubt indestructable walls of his cage in an effort to break free, but he knew without trying that exhausting himself wasn't going to get him out of this situation. He cleared his throat before he tried to speak. "I thought I no longer interested you?" His voice felt unused, his throat rough, but it felt good to be able to form words again.
"That was very shortsighted of me, wasn't it? I realised just in time that I could have much more fun with you alive. Well...alive for a little while. I'd like to see you die in far more controlled circumstances."
He'd been saved just to be killed again? Experimented on like a lab animal? It was an intentional afront to his pride to treat him this way, an affront to the pride of the Quincy, hunted, persecuted, and then finally experimented on until they were destroyed! "Why? One human dying is the same as any other!"
Szayel laughed. Damn, he hated it when he laughed like that; it made him want to rip his hair out, to scream and shout and fight like an animal in some desperate attempt at freedom. His laughter brought the panic welling back up inside of him like boiling water. The Arrancar put his hands on the outside of the invisible box and dropped his head against it, coming altogether too close, and yet still unreachable through the barrier. He caught his breath before he spoke. "I'm not planning on starving you or burning you. Haven't you noticed it, already? The box you're in?"
"Noticed what?" Nothing felt different...what was so strange about this box? It was freezing in here, but that was really the only thing. The walls weren't closing in, but suddenly it seemed uncomfortably stuffy, as though someone had taken all of the oxygen out -- no, that was just the panic again -- there was plenty of air, but the thought of an unknown killer trapped with him in the box... Something entirely out of his control... Was this how his grandfather had felt when Mayuri had taken him? His hands had closed into tight fists at his sides, nails digging into the palms of his hands; he was aware of the heaviness of his own breathing.
Szayel's unearthly smile spread a little wider. "It contains no spirit particles -- something like the palace you were in before. Since the box contains no spirit particles, you cannot absorb them. So I wonder, Quincy, how long will you live without them?"
No spirit particles? None at all? Well the joke was on the Arrancar. He'd survived without spirit particles before, hadn't he? The weight on his chest still refused to budge; if anything, this Arrancar had a brilliant comprehension of things that Uryuu did not. Death was probably unavoidable.
"It won't work," he said, out loud, trying to be braver than he felt. "I don't need spirit particles to survive."
"Do you think so?" Szayel asked, waving a hand above his head. A moment later an Arrancar fraccion knelt behind him, and he sat down on the monster's back as though it were a chair. "Even humans absorb a certain amount of spirit particles from their surroundings. Did you think the Quincy powers evolved on their own from nothing?"
Actually, he'd never even thought about it. That Quincy had the power to absorb and use spirit particles had always been something that he'd taken for granted. He'd never considered the first Quincy, how they had learned to master the technique so they could protect themselves from Hollows. It had never seemed important that they were also humans underneath.
"Would a human die if they were deprived of spirit particles?" Uryuu asked, slowly.
"Eventually. But you, Quincy... Your use of spirit particles is also a dependance on them; your very physiology has adapted to their use. I am expecting it to kill you much more quickly." Szayel's smile had progressed to 'cat with the cream'. He had gone from the scientist lording over his precious experiment, to the eager master, using his dominance over the situation to torture him. He was thoroughly enjoying Uryuu's discomfort now, wasn't he?
Would Kurosaki try to rescue him as well as Orihime? He wasn't sure he would, after all, they were still enemies, weren't they? Wasn't that what he'd said on the way here?
"Your friends won't find you here, Quincy. This room is protected by a magnificent defence system. If they even tried to come here, I would simply turn them away, and they would keep running in the other direction."
"They aren't my friends," Uryuu spat, kneeling now. His hair brushed against the ceiling when he sat up straight. "I don't expect them to come."
"But you thought it, didn't you?"
"You know what I'm thinking now?" he asked, glowering at the Arrancar. How was that even possible?
Szayel laughed again, "Anything is possible with the application of science, Quincy. Don't doubt its potential."
* * * * *
Where the hell were they? His hands and feet felt cold, although when he touched them to his chest he discovered that they were just as warm as the rest of his body. Was this what spirit particle starvation felt like? He seemed to remember feeling cold after his fight with Mayuri, every step becoming more and more difficult. That battle had warmed him through; the spirit particles had been searing hot, filling him with a fire that pulsed through him with every heartbeat.
"I thought I told you... Your friends aren't coming."
"And I thought I told you that they weren't my friends," Ishida burbled. He tried, not for the first time, to blow on his hands to warm them up, but it simply didn't work -- the chill wasn't real, it was a figment of his imagination constructed by his brain to tell him that he needed spirit particles.
Szayel turned away from the monitor he was watching. "Don't you want to watch the battle?"
"I don't need to watch it," Uryuu said, out loud. "I know Kurosaki will win."
"Ulquiorra is only toying with him, Quincy," Szayel condemned. "If I were to measure it in your standards... Hmmm..." He closed his eyes, as though he were really thinking about it. "...I would say that Kurosaki's full power is less than half of what Ulquiorra is capable of. Of course, he is a very interesting specimen; a Shinigami with the reiatsu of an Arrancar. It's a shame there will be nothing left of him to experiment on when the battle is over."
"Kurosaki will win," Uryuu said again, louder this time, as though Szayel had not heard him the first time. "He can't afford to lose."
"You're right about that one thing," Szayel agreed. "He can't afford to lose. But then, there will be nowhere for him to return to. Even if he does win, and even if he does somehow escape Hueco Mundo before Aizen-sama returns, his home will be long gone before then. Your home too, Quincy. Don't you have family in Karakura Town?"
His father... No, don't let him -- He tried to block the thoughts from his mind, but it was already too late.
"Your father?"
Now Szayel seemed far less interested in watching the battle. Both of his eyes were on Uryuu again, and he slowly uncoiled from the chair he was sitting in.
"I'm afraid he will never know of your fate; he will be dead before our experiment comes to an end."
"My father doesn't care," Uryuu said, bitterly. "And since I've long since come to terms with that, you can't possibly use it against me."
The predatory smile had returned to the Arrancar's face. "You forget, I can see into your head. All those insecurities and regrets... You're so human, Quincy, it almost makes me sick."
Uryuu was tempted to turn away, but if he didn't hold firm now he would never have another chance. He would die in here eventually, after all. "Say whatever the hell you like."
"You shouldn't tempt me," Szayel purred, coming closer to his box. There was something dangerous reflecting back at him in the light of his glasses. "I know all about your constant effort to earn your father's recognition. Using techniques that would threaten the life of even a talented Quincy archer, first in your class, and still not enough of a genius for him. Never loved, never comforted, never congratulated. And now, you will never be mourned. You've worked so very hard, haven't you Uryuu, to die and be forgotten here."
He was absolutely still, staring into the eyes underneath the reflection. How...? He broke his gaze away, aware that he was shaking. Szayel had shot a cold arrow of self-hatred deep into his heart -- and he hadn't even seen him draw.
"Pathetic. You're just a little boy, Quincy, playing with live ammunition. You shot yourself; I had nothing to do with it."
* * * * *
How much time had passed? There was a heaviness bearing down on his chest, making it difficult to breathe. His fingers felt numb with cold. Was he really dying? Had Szayel finally given up on his experiment and decided to poison him through the water feeder suspended on his translucent wall. No...that wasn't it. It felt like the air was getting heavier, somehow, crushing him. He couldn't think of a single poison that worked like that.
His skin was wet, but it was impossible to tell if he was sweating with fever; his perception of heat had faded long ago; still, his movements were slurred, his head dizzy -- he accidentally knocked his glasses from his face, a testiment to his lacking coordination.
"You aren't feeling well, are you? This is what they call withdrawal -- your heart is skipping beats, blood pressure soaring. Your skin is hypersensitive, your motor control is failing. Your father's a doctor, isn't he? So you know that the state you are in, you might die at any time. Soon you will be unable to move, and the experiment will be over."
Where was Szayel now? Uryuu couldn't see him in the spinning blurs and splotches that now made up his vision. Even the voice seemed distorted, and the scratching of lead on paper seemed dreadully loud, as though Szayel were grating his nails against his skull.
"Stop this..." his voice was slurred; his tongue refused to work as it was supposed to. Was this how he was supposed to die? He had pledged to do so much good -- to protect people from Hollows because the Shinigami could not. He was going to die here; an experiment in a box, tachycardic and trembling from cold with a scientist leaning over him, taking notes on his demise with a self-satisfied smile and a fucking pencil!
There was a loud beep that echoed around in his head and turned into a bright orange splotch on the back of his eyes, and Szayel's feet rang out like the sound of an elephant stampede in a supermarket, roaring in echoing, booming reverb over the speaker-system.
"It seems as though I'm needed," he sounded disappointed. "Such a dreadful shame; I would have thoroughly enjoyed the show. However, my cameras will collect all the information I need, and I will be able to watch it as often as I like once Aizen-sama's plan is complete. Don't be too disappointed, Quincy; you are the last of your kind, after all -- it's not even as though I can use what I've learned in the future. But it has been fun, hasn't it?"
Uryuu heard his own ragged whimper, hating himself the moment it had fallen out of his mouth, and as Szayel's laughter echoed to nothingness, was stung by his own desperation. There was no pride in dying this way, not even in dying as a Quincy, as an Ishida. He was alone; alone in a dark laboratory, and Kurosaki had not come to save him.
Alone. Bitter thoughts chewed at his burning skin. Had he pushed everyone away? Did anyone know the real him, underneath the proud surface that he wore? No...not even his father. He didn't leave behind any friends, only aquaintances who had flinched away from the cold hard surface of the Quincy archer, letting him fight with them only until he was too weak to fight any more. Where was the pride in being remembered only as a plastic man who had died in battle, where nobody remembered the frightened boy who had fought valiantly for his friends, for his life.
It was all gone, every oppurtunity he'd ever had to become someone. He had thrown it all away for the sake of pride, and only his sensei had known. He wanted to shake Kurosaki by the shoulders, to ask him to be friends, to hug and comfort Orihime. He was delirious now, he knew; it must be a fever. He felt so wretchedly cold, inside and out, and he could hear his heartbeat thundering brokenly in his ears, the thready untidy beat of a horse with three legs trying to run from the pursuing black shadow of death. He was dying...dying, and his last thoughts were about the things he would never do. How he would never get to kiss...
"This is magnificent! My my..."
Who...who had come to interrupt his final moments now? It must be an Arrancar. Uryuu didn't bother opening his eyes, even though he felt he should recognise the voice. Even if he did he was sure he wouldn't be able to see. He turned his head away from the sound. Just a few seconds more and he would be dead, and then he didn't care what they did to him. Just a few seconds...
"Hmm? And what do we have here?"
"Mayuri-sama!"
"Eh...what is it, Nemu?"
Those names... Could it be that the Shinigami had finally come? Was this just one more of Szayel's cruel tricks to tear away his last vestige of hope. He forced his eyes open, though it probably took every ounce of energy he had to do even that.
"Quincy-san..." Was Nemu the black blur standing above him? She seemed to be coming closer, and then all of a sudden she screamed and jumped back. Why? A flush of warmth plunged down over him like a blanket, seeping into his skin, and Uryuu caught his breath, eyelashes fluttering. The voices above him were clearer now, and he recognised them distinctly; Mayuri and Nemu Kurotsuchi. This couldn't be a trick!
"Idiot girl! Can't you see he's in a state of spirit particle deprivation? This box must be some kind of barrier...how fascinating..." There was movement, and then something large fell toward his face, vanishing before it touched him. Sheer, brilliant warmth plunged over him, like being thrown into a bath full of hot water; but it was too hot! He screamed as it scolded him, not only his skin but deep into his body. What had that crazy Shinigami done to him?!
There was movement, and then everything began to fade; his vision turning black, his breathing becoming more laboured. Anaesthetic... He let it swallow him up, grateful, even if it meant that he would simply die painlessly. The blackness poured in around him like a Hueco Mundo night, and he surrendered to it.
* * * * *
"Wake up, Quincy."
He didn't want to. Couldn't Szayel just leave him to die in peace? But that wasn't Szayel's voice, was it? Gradually, Uryuu opened his eyes, and instantly wished he'd kept them closed as his last few memories of the waking world began to creep back to him. He'd been rescued...
"Aren't you pleased to see me? Perhaps you'd have preferred that I leave you to die in Hueco Mundo?"
His head was pounding. Left him to die in Hueco Mundo? Uryuu opened his eyes again and forced himself gradually upright. He hadn't been seeing things; it was the Shinigami Captain Mayuri that looked in at him from outside the box. The colours in his face blurred together, but it would be hard not to recognise him, even without his glasses on. He remembered his voice booming from outside the glass box...and pain.
"You must have lots of questions, but I am a very busy man. Since you are indeed still alive, I'll be getting back to work."
"Wait!" Uryuu croaked, moving toward the glass wall, but Mayuri was already moving away. "Wait!" he yelled, his throat acheing when he raised his voice so high. "I'm not one of your experiments! Let me out!"
He sank back down, pulling his knees up to his chest. Wait! he thought, desperately. How had he got here? Why was he still in this box? When could he go home? He slumped against the glass, lifting a hand up to push against his acheing forehead. How long had it been? How long had he been in Szayel's box, and how long had he been here? His head felt like he had slept too long, but perhaps that was just the side effect of whatever cure it was that Mayuri had given him.
He let his head rest against the wall of the cage until he was sure he was most definitely alive. It wouldn't do much good to be making such a fuss if he was dead, would it? But no...his muscles all responded - albeit slowly - when he urged them to; his eyesight settled into the familiar short-sightedness that was comfortable to him; and eventually his brain even seemed to be working a little faster. He lifted his hands and stared at them for a moment, then pushed his palms tightly together and began touching his fingertips together, cycling back and forth. His control was back, his mind was working again - the simple exercise was even now a little clumbsy, but if he had tried it in Hueco Mundo, he knew he would probably have been unable to even put his hands together.
Uryuu let his eyes drift to the laboratory around him. It was difficult to make out anything, regardless of his eyesight; the room was dark, and only the monitors shone a stark white that hurt his eyes when he looked straight at them. If there were Shinigami here he would probably have difficulty seeing them...except... Something moved over the front of a monitor, casting a black silhouette for a moment.
The dark figure came closer -- Uryuu listened to the footsteps; a woman's footsteps, and leant forward slightly.
"Nemu, wasn't it?"
There wasn't a sound, but he was sure he'd got it right.
"Please," he said, "When can I go home?"
Still no answer, but finally Nemu finished whatever she was doing and knelt down, so that Uryuu could just about make out her features as she swam into his field of vision. "You can't go home yet, Quincy-san. You can't leave this box. If you did..." she seemed meek, hesitating to look around the laboratory as though frightened. "If you did then you'd die."
"Nemu!"
Uryuu felt himself jump, but the Shinigami couldn't seem to get far enough away from him when Mayuri called her name. "Coming, Mayuri-sama!"
* * * * *
"Catch."
He almost didn't see it but he certainly felt it. Mayuri had thrown an apple through the barrier, but before it could reach his outstretched hands, it turned into glittering silver spirit particles and then vanished. Moments later he felt the warmness spreading across his skin like a summer breeze; could feel the energy buzzing in his fingers. It wasn't enough, and the feeling quickly faded, leaving emptiness behind.
"Do you understand now, Quincy? You are a danger to Seireitei, and it is my responsibility as a Captain of the Gotei 13 to protect this place from you. And in the meantime..."
A danger...he'd drank away all the spirit particles of that apple before he could even catch it. He'd done that before...gorging himself on the free energy that made up the whole of Seireitei itself. But those had been exceptional circumstances. As a Quincy he was capable of absorbing natural spirit particles in the air, but breaking apart things into their consituent parts and then absorbing them... Wait... "In the meantime?! I'm not some experiment for you to prod and poke at!"
He could feel the panic settling in; a kind of claustrophobia that was drowning him. Trapped inside this box, unable to leave. At the mercy of this...this monster! Mayuri had persecuted the Quincy, tortured them physically and mentally, maimed and murdered them! His grandfather; his sensei -- and now him, unable to resist, coveted by one mad scientist after another one. Even if Mayuri could let him out he wouldn't; he could see that now. "I'm not going to stay here and let you do this to me," he cried, aware that his voice was very ragged, that he was losing what little calm he had left after his ordeal with Szayel.
"A thirsty man should drink slowly; if he throws himself into the ocean he will drown. Seireitei is the ocean, Quincy. You would destroy yourself long before you destroyed us. Part of me would like to see what would happen..."
Uryuu looked up, sharply. Yes...of course he would. Quincy were just curious experiments to this man. His hands were shaking, his shoulders rising and falling with every gasping breath. Monster...this man was a monster! "I won't let you experiment on me!"
"Let me? Let me? You're stupider than I thought, Quincy. Let me? The only way for you to ever leave that box is to let me play with you." Mayuri was undeniably serene, even when he was pleased himself, but his eyes danced with delight at his mad genius.
"I..." he wasn't sure what to say. Mayuri would let him leave the box? No, it had to be a trick. He snapped his jaw shut, steeling his resolve. "Like I'd believe that," he hissed.
Mayuri turned away, clearly bored with the way the conversation was turning. As he did, another question occured to Ishida. "Wait! Did we beat Aizen?"
"Did we beat Aizen? Do you ever bother to use that pitiful brain of yours? You wouldn't be here if we'd lost."
"A-and...Orihime? Kurosaki?"
"Your friends survived." Uryuu opened his mouth to interrupt, but Mayuri was ignoring him - he could tell clearly enough that it was the back of the Shinigami's head that he was looking at now, at least. "They know where you are but they haven't visited yet."
Hadn't visited...perhaps they were just busy? Yes...that had to be it... He sank down, frowning at his knees as he thought about it. If they knew that he was ill like this then why hadn't they come? Were they injured too? Yes -- that had to be the reason. It couldn't possibly be that they didn't want to. After all, he had risked his life to try and save Orihime... They'd come. They had to.
* * * * *
Word Count: 5053
Rating: PG 13 for now, for language
Pairing: Uryuu/Ichigo
Warnings: AU, violence, dark themes, mild bad language
Summary: The battle with Szayel Aporro Granz ends without interruption; this is what happens to Ishida after that, how his life changes and how his friendships suffer. Does Kurosaki's vow extend to saving even him?
Disclaimer: Bleach and its characters belongs to Kubo Tite, I make nothing out of their use.
The last breaths of death hurt; his brain, starved of oxygen, struggled to force his one remaining lung to tear in each tortured breath. He couldn't force himself to stop, and so he was made to suffer one painful breath after another, wondering whether the next one would be his last. The blue sky above Uryuu Ishida seemed to go on forever -- it reminded him of the home he would never return to -- but even that was just one of Aizen's tricks. This sky was a fake one suspended underneath the darkness of Hueco Mundo's night.
Another terrible breath. How many did he have left now? A few feet from him lay the shattered body of Abarai Renji, face down in the rubble from the destruction of Szayel Aporro Granz's Espada palace. It was impossible to tell whether he was alive or not, and even Kurosaki's fierce flame of reiatsu seemed to be fading now.
Damn... He closed his eyes as tightly as he could, trying to imagine away the science textbook images of how his insides should look. Somehow it only made the pain more difficult to bear to see it in neatly drawn lines, with tidy labels stating what the organs and bones had once been. His last thoughts couldn't be about that... He had to think about what he'd put on the line to come here -- what his failure would mean. Orihime was out there somewhere waiting to be rescued. He would never see her again.
The abject misery of that realisation hurt more than all the punishment that had been done to his body. He had never expected to die here...but shouldn't he have? He was weak -- in comparisson to Kurosaki, his power was negligible. And yet without his help, would Kurosaki have made it this far? They'd thrown themselves at the walls of the enemy's fortress, expecting the same dumb luck to carry them through that had made kept them alive during their attack on Seireitei.
His next breath gurgled, and he coughed, not surprised to taste the familiar coppery tang of blood on his tongue. He was going to drown, slowly -- it would be more painful than bleeding to death, blood pressure dropping until his heart couldn't beat any more. In that respect, Renji was lucky.
Was this what it felt like to die?
"Open your eyes, Quincy."
Open his eyes and face his killer. Szayel's voice purred with the satisfaction and arrogance of an easy victory, he was smiling around his words; a hollow, Arrancar smile. If he was going to die he would do it as a proud Quincy, as an Ishida, looking fiercely at the man who had defeated him -- not as the frightened schoolboy Uryuu, who even now tried to hide from the world in his dying moments, tried to hide from his killer.
"You'll die any moment," Szayel pushed. "Wouldn't you like to hear what I have to say, first?"
Blood and sweat stung his eyes as he forced them open. The bright blue sky cast the Arrancar into shadow above him, that much at least was a relief. He could pretend to be fearless without having to see the hollow's face. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't manage a word; his one remaining lung was still struggling just to keep him breathing.
Szayel crouched down, features swimming into focus -- the vast killer-wings had vanished, leaving the tidy scientist behind once more. After all that fighting they hadn't even left a scratch. Uryuu didn't resist as his glasses were removed, leaving him in a grateful state of short-sightedness.
"I've changed my mind about killing you," Szayel said, sweetly. One long fingered hand swept into focus, gloved fingers falling gently on his neck. It was a little late for that, Uryuu thought, closing his eyes again rather than trying to resist being touched. Any moment, Szayel had said. His body had been crushed from the inside, and there was no way to fix that kind of damage. The pulse that had been roaring in his ears was growing threadier now, so that he could almost hear the blood pouring out from his internal leasions.
"Any idiot can kill something," Szayel sang, and now Uryuu was sure that he was brimming with pure arrogance. "The real talent is in nursing the flame of life. Luckily for you, I've conquered immortality."
Immortal...? No, it couldn't be... He forced his eyes back open, though it felt as though he were trying to lift bricks with his eyelids, staring up at the Arrancar. How could a monster like this be immortal? He tried to speak, but gurgled instead, and Szayel lifted one elegant finger to his lips to silence him. "As beautiful as you look with your white lips stained with your own blood, I'm afraid trying to talk will kill you before I get started, and that would be rather a waste, wouldn't it?"
The prick of a needle stung his throat, but that tiny pain was nothing to the raging agony of what came after, as his insides seemed to ignite all at once. Everything went blissfully black.
* * * * *
Where was he...? His body felt heavy, but his breath was coming without difficulty, both lungs working when he took a gulp of air. The sole source of any discomfort was that his throat was dry as though he had been sleeping too long, a mere inconvenience in comparisson to his near death experience. His eyes felt heavy, his glasses were wonky, and his hair was sticking to his mouth, but he was very much alive.
"I know you're awake, Quincy, your pulse has quickened. I think you'll find that you can sit up now, I've repaired the damage that was done to your spine."
Uryuu forced his eyes open with great effort, testing out his arms by reaching up to push his hair out of his face. Drool had stuck some of the strands to his chin -- had he slept with his mouth open? He sat up heavily, only now looking at his surroundings.
Apparently he was sitting on the floor in the middle of a dark laboratory. There were walls of shiny black monitors and opalescent white countertops covered with flashing lights and interesting symbols. On a huge island towering over him on the right were experiments in progress -- he could just about see the severed head of a hollow, its eyes still glowing and alive beneath it's mask, electrodes sticking out of it. His hands ran instinctively over his own face, checking for anything that might be sticking out of him, and he tried to stand up, yelping in shock as he hit an invisible ceiling and found himself suddenly sitting down again. Experimentation found walls in every direction.
So he was caged, was he? Caged and dressed in a thin white kimono that let in too much cold. Szayel looked down at him with lively eyes, as though he were a favourite pet that had just learned how to obey a new command. "I thought I'd tell you about my experiment. You should be pleased -- I don't indulge many of my labrats with explanations."
Labrat?! He wasn't going to be experimented on! He wouldn't let it happen! Inside he was fighting, panicking; he even thought about throwing a fit, leaping at the no doubt indestructable walls of his cage in an effort to break free, but he knew without trying that exhausting himself wasn't going to get him out of this situation. He cleared his throat before he tried to speak. "I thought I no longer interested you?" His voice felt unused, his throat rough, but it felt good to be able to form words again.
"That was very shortsighted of me, wasn't it? I realised just in time that I could have much more fun with you alive. Well...alive for a little while. I'd like to see you die in far more controlled circumstances."
He'd been saved just to be killed again? Experimented on like a lab animal? It was an intentional afront to his pride to treat him this way, an affront to the pride of the Quincy, hunted, persecuted, and then finally experimented on until they were destroyed! "Why? One human dying is the same as any other!"
Szayel laughed. Damn, he hated it when he laughed like that; it made him want to rip his hair out, to scream and shout and fight like an animal in some desperate attempt at freedom. His laughter brought the panic welling back up inside of him like boiling water. The Arrancar put his hands on the outside of the invisible box and dropped his head against it, coming altogether too close, and yet still unreachable through the barrier. He caught his breath before he spoke. "I'm not planning on starving you or burning you. Haven't you noticed it, already? The box you're in?"
"Noticed what?" Nothing felt different...what was so strange about this box? It was freezing in here, but that was really the only thing. The walls weren't closing in, but suddenly it seemed uncomfortably stuffy, as though someone had taken all of the oxygen out -- no, that was just the panic again -- there was plenty of air, but the thought of an unknown killer trapped with him in the box... Something entirely out of his control... Was this how his grandfather had felt when Mayuri had taken him? His hands had closed into tight fists at his sides, nails digging into the palms of his hands; he was aware of the heaviness of his own breathing.
Szayel's unearthly smile spread a little wider. "It contains no spirit particles -- something like the palace you were in before. Since the box contains no spirit particles, you cannot absorb them. So I wonder, Quincy, how long will you live without them?"
No spirit particles? None at all? Well the joke was on the Arrancar. He'd survived without spirit particles before, hadn't he? The weight on his chest still refused to budge; if anything, this Arrancar had a brilliant comprehension of things that Uryuu did not. Death was probably unavoidable.
"It won't work," he said, out loud, trying to be braver than he felt. "I don't need spirit particles to survive."
"Do you think so?" Szayel asked, waving a hand above his head. A moment later an Arrancar fraccion knelt behind him, and he sat down on the monster's back as though it were a chair. "Even humans absorb a certain amount of spirit particles from their surroundings. Did you think the Quincy powers evolved on their own from nothing?"
Actually, he'd never even thought about it. That Quincy had the power to absorb and use spirit particles had always been something that he'd taken for granted. He'd never considered the first Quincy, how they had learned to master the technique so they could protect themselves from Hollows. It had never seemed important that they were also humans underneath.
"Would a human die if they were deprived of spirit particles?" Uryuu asked, slowly.
"Eventually. But you, Quincy... Your use of spirit particles is also a dependance on them; your very physiology has adapted to their use. I am expecting it to kill you much more quickly." Szayel's smile had progressed to 'cat with the cream'. He had gone from the scientist lording over his precious experiment, to the eager master, using his dominance over the situation to torture him. He was thoroughly enjoying Uryuu's discomfort now, wasn't he?
Would Kurosaki try to rescue him as well as Orihime? He wasn't sure he would, after all, they were still enemies, weren't they? Wasn't that what he'd said on the way here?
"Your friends won't find you here, Quincy. This room is protected by a magnificent defence system. If they even tried to come here, I would simply turn them away, and they would keep running in the other direction."
"They aren't my friends," Uryuu spat, kneeling now. His hair brushed against the ceiling when he sat up straight. "I don't expect them to come."
"But you thought it, didn't you?"
"You know what I'm thinking now?" he asked, glowering at the Arrancar. How was that even possible?
Szayel laughed again, "Anything is possible with the application of science, Quincy. Don't doubt its potential."
* * * * *
Where the hell were they? His hands and feet felt cold, although when he touched them to his chest he discovered that they were just as warm as the rest of his body. Was this what spirit particle starvation felt like? He seemed to remember feeling cold after his fight with Mayuri, every step becoming more and more difficult. That battle had warmed him through; the spirit particles had been searing hot, filling him with a fire that pulsed through him with every heartbeat.
"I thought I told you... Your friends aren't coming."
"And I thought I told you that they weren't my friends," Ishida burbled. He tried, not for the first time, to blow on his hands to warm them up, but it simply didn't work -- the chill wasn't real, it was a figment of his imagination constructed by his brain to tell him that he needed spirit particles.
Szayel turned away from the monitor he was watching. "Don't you want to watch the battle?"
"I don't need to watch it," Uryuu said, out loud. "I know Kurosaki will win."
"Ulquiorra is only toying with him, Quincy," Szayel condemned. "If I were to measure it in your standards... Hmmm..." He closed his eyes, as though he were really thinking about it. "...I would say that Kurosaki's full power is less than half of what Ulquiorra is capable of. Of course, he is a very interesting specimen; a Shinigami with the reiatsu of an Arrancar. It's a shame there will be nothing left of him to experiment on when the battle is over."
"Kurosaki will win," Uryuu said again, louder this time, as though Szayel had not heard him the first time. "He can't afford to lose."
"You're right about that one thing," Szayel agreed. "He can't afford to lose. But then, there will be nowhere for him to return to. Even if he does win, and even if he does somehow escape Hueco Mundo before Aizen-sama returns, his home will be long gone before then. Your home too, Quincy. Don't you have family in Karakura Town?"
His father... No, don't let him -- He tried to block the thoughts from his mind, but it was already too late.
"Your father?"
Now Szayel seemed far less interested in watching the battle. Both of his eyes were on Uryuu again, and he slowly uncoiled from the chair he was sitting in.
"I'm afraid he will never know of your fate; he will be dead before our experiment comes to an end."
"My father doesn't care," Uryuu said, bitterly. "And since I've long since come to terms with that, you can't possibly use it against me."
The predatory smile had returned to the Arrancar's face. "You forget, I can see into your head. All those insecurities and regrets... You're so human, Quincy, it almost makes me sick."
Uryuu was tempted to turn away, but if he didn't hold firm now he would never have another chance. He would die in here eventually, after all. "Say whatever the hell you like."
"You shouldn't tempt me," Szayel purred, coming closer to his box. There was something dangerous reflecting back at him in the light of his glasses. "I know all about your constant effort to earn your father's recognition. Using techniques that would threaten the life of even a talented Quincy archer, first in your class, and still not enough of a genius for him. Never loved, never comforted, never congratulated. And now, you will never be mourned. You've worked so very hard, haven't you Uryuu, to die and be forgotten here."
He was absolutely still, staring into the eyes underneath the reflection. How...? He broke his gaze away, aware that he was shaking. Szayel had shot a cold arrow of self-hatred deep into his heart -- and he hadn't even seen him draw.
"Pathetic. You're just a little boy, Quincy, playing with live ammunition. You shot yourself; I had nothing to do with it."
* * * * *
How much time had passed? There was a heaviness bearing down on his chest, making it difficult to breathe. His fingers felt numb with cold. Was he really dying? Had Szayel finally given up on his experiment and decided to poison him through the water feeder suspended on his translucent wall. No...that wasn't it. It felt like the air was getting heavier, somehow, crushing him. He couldn't think of a single poison that worked like that.
His skin was wet, but it was impossible to tell if he was sweating with fever; his perception of heat had faded long ago; still, his movements were slurred, his head dizzy -- he accidentally knocked his glasses from his face, a testiment to his lacking coordination.
"You aren't feeling well, are you? This is what they call withdrawal -- your heart is skipping beats, blood pressure soaring. Your skin is hypersensitive, your motor control is failing. Your father's a doctor, isn't he? So you know that the state you are in, you might die at any time. Soon you will be unable to move, and the experiment will be over."
Where was Szayel now? Uryuu couldn't see him in the spinning blurs and splotches that now made up his vision. Even the voice seemed distorted, and the scratching of lead on paper seemed dreadully loud, as though Szayel were grating his nails against his skull.
"Stop this..." his voice was slurred; his tongue refused to work as it was supposed to. Was this how he was supposed to die? He had pledged to do so much good -- to protect people from Hollows because the Shinigami could not. He was going to die here; an experiment in a box, tachycardic and trembling from cold with a scientist leaning over him, taking notes on his demise with a self-satisfied smile and a fucking pencil!
There was a loud beep that echoed around in his head and turned into a bright orange splotch on the back of his eyes, and Szayel's feet rang out like the sound of an elephant stampede in a supermarket, roaring in echoing, booming reverb over the speaker-system.
"It seems as though I'm needed," he sounded disappointed. "Such a dreadful shame; I would have thoroughly enjoyed the show. However, my cameras will collect all the information I need, and I will be able to watch it as often as I like once Aizen-sama's plan is complete. Don't be too disappointed, Quincy; you are the last of your kind, after all -- it's not even as though I can use what I've learned in the future. But it has been fun, hasn't it?"
Uryuu heard his own ragged whimper, hating himself the moment it had fallen out of his mouth, and as Szayel's laughter echoed to nothingness, was stung by his own desperation. There was no pride in dying this way, not even in dying as a Quincy, as an Ishida. He was alone; alone in a dark laboratory, and Kurosaki had not come to save him.
Alone. Bitter thoughts chewed at his burning skin. Had he pushed everyone away? Did anyone know the real him, underneath the proud surface that he wore? No...not even his father. He didn't leave behind any friends, only aquaintances who had flinched away from the cold hard surface of the Quincy archer, letting him fight with them only until he was too weak to fight any more. Where was the pride in being remembered only as a plastic man who had died in battle, where nobody remembered the frightened boy who had fought valiantly for his friends, for his life.
It was all gone, every oppurtunity he'd ever had to become someone. He had thrown it all away for the sake of pride, and only his sensei had known. He wanted to shake Kurosaki by the shoulders, to ask him to be friends, to hug and comfort Orihime. He was delirious now, he knew; it must be a fever. He felt so wretchedly cold, inside and out, and he could hear his heartbeat thundering brokenly in his ears, the thready untidy beat of a horse with three legs trying to run from the pursuing black shadow of death. He was dying...dying, and his last thoughts were about the things he would never do. How he would never get to kiss...
"This is magnificent! My my..."
Who...who had come to interrupt his final moments now? It must be an Arrancar. Uryuu didn't bother opening his eyes, even though he felt he should recognise the voice. Even if he did he was sure he wouldn't be able to see. He turned his head away from the sound. Just a few seconds more and he would be dead, and then he didn't care what they did to him. Just a few seconds...
"Hmm? And what do we have here?"
"Mayuri-sama!"
"Eh...what is it, Nemu?"
Those names... Could it be that the Shinigami had finally come? Was this just one more of Szayel's cruel tricks to tear away his last vestige of hope. He forced his eyes open, though it probably took every ounce of energy he had to do even that.
"Quincy-san..." Was Nemu the black blur standing above him? She seemed to be coming closer, and then all of a sudden she screamed and jumped back. Why? A flush of warmth plunged down over him like a blanket, seeping into his skin, and Uryuu caught his breath, eyelashes fluttering. The voices above him were clearer now, and he recognised them distinctly; Mayuri and Nemu Kurotsuchi. This couldn't be a trick!
"Idiot girl! Can't you see he's in a state of spirit particle deprivation? This box must be some kind of barrier...how fascinating..." There was movement, and then something large fell toward his face, vanishing before it touched him. Sheer, brilliant warmth plunged over him, like being thrown into a bath full of hot water; but it was too hot! He screamed as it scolded him, not only his skin but deep into his body. What had that crazy Shinigami done to him?!
There was movement, and then everything began to fade; his vision turning black, his breathing becoming more laboured. Anaesthetic... He let it swallow him up, grateful, even if it meant that he would simply die painlessly. The blackness poured in around him like a Hueco Mundo night, and he surrendered to it.
* * * * *
"Wake up, Quincy."
He didn't want to. Couldn't Szayel just leave him to die in peace? But that wasn't Szayel's voice, was it? Gradually, Uryuu opened his eyes, and instantly wished he'd kept them closed as his last few memories of the waking world began to creep back to him. He'd been rescued...
"Aren't you pleased to see me? Perhaps you'd have preferred that I leave you to die in Hueco Mundo?"
His head was pounding. Left him to die in Hueco Mundo? Uryuu opened his eyes again and forced himself gradually upright. He hadn't been seeing things; it was the Shinigami Captain Mayuri that looked in at him from outside the box. The colours in his face blurred together, but it would be hard not to recognise him, even without his glasses on. He remembered his voice booming from outside the glass box...and pain.
"You must have lots of questions, but I am a very busy man. Since you are indeed still alive, I'll be getting back to work."
"Wait!" Uryuu croaked, moving toward the glass wall, but Mayuri was already moving away. "Wait!" he yelled, his throat acheing when he raised his voice so high. "I'm not one of your experiments! Let me out!"
He sank back down, pulling his knees up to his chest. Wait! he thought, desperately. How had he got here? Why was he still in this box? When could he go home? He slumped against the glass, lifting a hand up to push against his acheing forehead. How long had it been? How long had he been in Szayel's box, and how long had he been here? His head felt like he had slept too long, but perhaps that was just the side effect of whatever cure it was that Mayuri had given him.
He let his head rest against the wall of the cage until he was sure he was most definitely alive. It wouldn't do much good to be making such a fuss if he was dead, would it? But no...his muscles all responded - albeit slowly - when he urged them to; his eyesight settled into the familiar short-sightedness that was comfortable to him; and eventually his brain even seemed to be working a little faster. He lifted his hands and stared at them for a moment, then pushed his palms tightly together and began touching his fingertips together, cycling back and forth. His control was back, his mind was working again - the simple exercise was even now a little clumbsy, but if he had tried it in Hueco Mundo, he knew he would probably have been unable to even put his hands together.
Uryuu let his eyes drift to the laboratory around him. It was difficult to make out anything, regardless of his eyesight; the room was dark, and only the monitors shone a stark white that hurt his eyes when he looked straight at them. If there were Shinigami here he would probably have difficulty seeing them...except... Something moved over the front of a monitor, casting a black silhouette for a moment.
The dark figure came closer -- Uryuu listened to the footsteps; a woman's footsteps, and leant forward slightly.
"Nemu, wasn't it?"
There wasn't a sound, but he was sure he'd got it right.
"Please," he said, "When can I go home?"
Still no answer, but finally Nemu finished whatever she was doing and knelt down, so that Uryuu could just about make out her features as she swam into his field of vision. "You can't go home yet, Quincy-san. You can't leave this box. If you did..." she seemed meek, hesitating to look around the laboratory as though frightened. "If you did then you'd die."
"Nemu!"
Uryuu felt himself jump, but the Shinigami couldn't seem to get far enough away from him when Mayuri called her name. "Coming, Mayuri-sama!"
* * * * *
"Catch."
He almost didn't see it but he certainly felt it. Mayuri had thrown an apple through the barrier, but before it could reach his outstretched hands, it turned into glittering silver spirit particles and then vanished. Moments later he felt the warmness spreading across his skin like a summer breeze; could feel the energy buzzing in his fingers. It wasn't enough, and the feeling quickly faded, leaving emptiness behind.
"Do you understand now, Quincy? You are a danger to Seireitei, and it is my responsibility as a Captain of the Gotei 13 to protect this place from you. And in the meantime..."
A danger...he'd drank away all the spirit particles of that apple before he could even catch it. He'd done that before...gorging himself on the free energy that made up the whole of Seireitei itself. But those had been exceptional circumstances. As a Quincy he was capable of absorbing natural spirit particles in the air, but breaking apart things into their consituent parts and then absorbing them... Wait... "In the meantime?! I'm not some experiment for you to prod and poke at!"
He could feel the panic settling in; a kind of claustrophobia that was drowning him. Trapped inside this box, unable to leave. At the mercy of this...this monster! Mayuri had persecuted the Quincy, tortured them physically and mentally, maimed and murdered them! His grandfather; his sensei -- and now him, unable to resist, coveted by one mad scientist after another one. Even if Mayuri could let him out he wouldn't; he could see that now. "I'm not going to stay here and let you do this to me," he cried, aware that his voice was very ragged, that he was losing what little calm he had left after his ordeal with Szayel.
"A thirsty man should drink slowly; if he throws himself into the ocean he will drown. Seireitei is the ocean, Quincy. You would destroy yourself long before you destroyed us. Part of me would like to see what would happen..."
Uryuu looked up, sharply. Yes...of course he would. Quincy were just curious experiments to this man. His hands were shaking, his shoulders rising and falling with every gasping breath. Monster...this man was a monster! "I won't let you experiment on me!"
"Let me? Let me? You're stupider than I thought, Quincy. Let me? The only way for you to ever leave that box is to let me play with you." Mayuri was undeniably serene, even when he was pleased himself, but his eyes danced with delight at his mad genius.
"I..." he wasn't sure what to say. Mayuri would let him leave the box? No, it had to be a trick. He snapped his jaw shut, steeling his resolve. "Like I'd believe that," he hissed.
Mayuri turned away, clearly bored with the way the conversation was turning. As he did, another question occured to Ishida. "Wait! Did we beat Aizen?"
"Did we beat Aizen? Do you ever bother to use that pitiful brain of yours? You wouldn't be here if we'd lost."
"A-and...Orihime? Kurosaki?"
"Your friends survived." Uryuu opened his mouth to interrupt, but Mayuri was ignoring him - he could tell clearly enough that it was the back of the Shinigami's head that he was looking at now, at least. "They know where you are but they haven't visited yet."
Hadn't visited...perhaps they were just busy? Yes...that had to be it... He sank down, frowning at his knees as he thought about it. If they knew that he was ill like this then why hadn't they come? Were they injured too? Yes -- that had to be the reason. It couldn't possibly be that they didn't want to. After all, he had risked his life to try and save Orihime... They'd come. They had to.
* * * * *