I own nothing.
When he feels the tear of flesh into his arm and the rip apart of bone and skin and muscle, Ishida's ready to give up.
It doesn't hurt. That's weird. Even with the cocktail of painkillers and blood coagulants roaring through his veins, Ishida expected the loss of a hand to hurt worse than it does.
It doesn't hurt. When his mind finally gets past that realization, he comes to the revelation that he now only has one hand. I can't hold a bow anymore. I can't fire arrows anymore. This doesn't bother him as much as it should; all his thoughts are rushing through water.
He's ready to give up. He's ready to fall back and retreat. He's ready to tell Inoue-san to grab Kurosaki's body because they are getting the Hell out of here.
Ishida knows he can't win this fight.
But he can't give up. He takes one look at Inoue-san's face, wild-eyed and tear-soaked, and he knows he can't.
Kurosaki's dead. Ishida doesn't know why he tells Inoue-san to take care of him, because Kurosaki's dead. Anyone can see that by looking at him, with that huge hole gaping in his chest.
Kurosaki's dead. His mind keeps going back there, and Ishida can't stop thinking about it, thinking about how he's never going to hear that loud, belligerent voice again—he's actually going to miss him. That's the most surprising thing about any of this: he's actually going to miss idiot Kurosaki.
And with that, he's running towards Ulquiorra, sword shaking in remaining hand—the right is Ishida's weak hand and blood loss is starting to take its toll.
He was ready to give up, but he can't and won't.
Ishida knows he can't win this fight, and Ulquiorra knows it too.
He's not afraid.
