Characters: Uryuu, Ryuuken
Summary: Ryuuken has demoralizing speeches down to a fine art.
Pairings: None
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for the Arrancar arc
Timeline: Arrancar arc
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
As of right now, Uryuu can count four places on his body that need stitches but won't get them—he has no access to that sort of medical supplies, something that's proven to be much to his detriment in the past. Thick gashes, lipped grooves carved in the flesh and oozing blood, the most they will get is bandages and burning, sharp-smelling disinfectant. There is one—from yesterday—that he can already tell is infected, from the discoloration around the scab and the way it screams at the slightest movement. When he gets home, he'll sink fingernails under the scab and rip it off, pry the wound open and pour in antiseptics, wincing and gritting his teeth at the pain.
For now, there's no time to give consideration to pain.
"You're getting slower again." Uryuu grits his teeth as that unwelcome voice echoes across the sharp metal angles of the room, critical and coldly observational. Ryuuken can deliver taunts the way others would talk about the weather. "Pathetic."
Somewhere to hide. He needs a place, just for a moment, to conceal himself, catch his bearings. Eyes dart around, trying to find anywhere, but sees nothing so much as resembling an alcove or a depression in the smooth, gleaming metal.
The bow clenched tightly in Ryuuken's hand seems…heavier somehow. Denser than what Uryuu is used to seeing. Ambiguity and ambivalence saturates the particles.
"Look at you." Uryuu spins around, heart pounding wildly, but he can't see him anywhere. Not good… "Look at yourself. You're covered in blood and on the verge of collapse. You're not sure, are you? You can't make your mind up about anything. Go home. Now. Nothing is served by this if you aren't completely sure that this is the right path. Just say that you're going, and go.
"Why do you think I still live, when the others have died?" Uryuu knows who Ryuuken is referring to by this, and grits his teeth. "It's because I was the only one who ever learned when to walk away. You must do the same, if you ever want to survive. Do that now, if you want to get off lightly."
It's tempting. Good God, it's tempting. It's not like standing within a hundred yards of his father has ever been easy, both confronted with the sight of how far the other's fallen but unable to see their own descent. Especially not with the mood Ryuuken seems to be in right now, vicious, intent on drawing blood with words instead of just leaving bruises. He seems particularly angry today. It could be the strain of nicotine withdrawal—Ryuuken hasn't had the nightly smoke yet—and it could be something else. It's not like Uryuu's ever been that good at reading him.
But the impulse towards defiance hasn't left him yet, and silence is the only means of defiance Uryuu really has left in this situation, so he just says nothing, afraid to open his own mouth, staring around and trying to figure out where he is.
A hand heavy as lead taps his shoulder, cold and frigid.
"Well." There is no trace of human warmth in Ryuuken's eyes or his voice. "Since you don't seem capable of answering, shall we continue?"