Tesla could feel a bead of sweat underneath his hair, winding its way down his scalp. He would brush it away, along with the sweat on his nose, but he didn't dare move. It wasn't as though he would be noticed if he did, but something in his nerves was tense and told him to be still at all costs and watch.
There was so much in this battle it was almost ridiculous. It was one of those defining moments in all things built on hierarchy -- when someone lower clashed with someone higher (only in number, he was quick to think). The lower can either overcome and things would shift. Or the lower could bow to defeat and considering this was an Espada battle, if Nnoitra-sama lost, Nnoitra-sama would be looking at death.
The defining word was if and in the back of his mind, as strong as his allegiance to Nnoitra was, he knew this was cut and dry. Neliel was too strong but he'd kept his mouth shut about this entire thing. Nnoitra-sama was strong, ridiculously so but Neliel was number three, the outcome of the battle was pretty much lost to her dizzying heights of power.
The only thing, and it pained him to think this, they could truly hope for was mercy. It was over almost before Neliel sliced her sword and it was almost disgustingly poetic to watch her work. If it was anyone but Nnoitra-sama, he would've been captivated, such a display, her incredible pressure bouncing off everything like a deep echo.
But there were so many other things here, underneath. Tesla could feel the vibration of old memories as much as the buzz of reiatsu, memories that formed as painful, almost like lacerations, itching old wounds.
His body was suddenly shivering with nothing that had to do with worry. And that was not all that his devotion to Nnoitra-sama was built upon. Many many factors; admiration was one. He had never seen a more dedicated, ruthless and strong man. And another was almost circumstance. He was drawn to the stronger and that was something he and Nnoitra-sama both had in common.
Another was worry, if that was the right word to use. It was almost closer to uncertainty about his place. He was only a Numero, but he was the strongest Espada's Fraccion. If anything were to happen to him, it would be at Nnoitra-sama's own hands and that would be a worthy death.
He leaned against the wall, feeling his sweaty hair push up in the back. Something about watching Neliel-sama fight was almost like how she worked that one night, when they were together. Almost poetic, learned, experienced, and with the idea she had done this many times before and this ... was only entertainment.
It was almost like dream remembering and he allowed himself to close his eyes against the bright artificial sky, spots behind his eyelids. That time ... almost the set-up seemed ludicrous, but she wanted to indulge him, he supposed. Humor him. And that was really the only way it was going to happen.
Nnoitra-sama was gone and Tesla was bothering Neliel, but not too much considering what happened next. Even he didn't believe it, and it wasn't out of pity, he knew that. Neliel did mercy, but despite what Nnoitra said, she didn't do pity.
They really said nothing afterwards, and there was so much to say, but it seemed unspoken and incredibly outre at the time. Mostly all of it on the subject of Nnoitra-sama and for those moments, they forgot he existed.
That was Tesla's secret and he felt guilt about it, that his fingers had touched Neliel and he knew Nnoitra's had not, his mouth had closed over hers ... and he knew Nnoitra's had not and knew, basically, given the chance, Nnoitra would take it. Tesla hated making assumptions, but it was really a question of who would not?
He opened his eyes on the battle and saw Nnoitra-sama's body bend double, blood blossoming between his hands and now if Tesla wanted to move, he could not. Every muscle, nerve, part in his body was stiff. He really did hate making assumptions, but he knew Neliel would not finish this off and he was glad, for his sake, she did not. For Nnoitra-sama's sake, of course. He would rather die there in the sands, but she walked away.
Wrong move to make.
And Nnoitra-sama was still bent over, still bleeding and even if she didn't deliver a killing blow, Tesla felt he should break his stiffness, call out, say something ...
Nnoitra never revealed his plans to his Fraccion. Why would he? It was, in his view, just another weakling who he tolerated and who was almost good to have around, for the simple reason he almost never challenged him and did exactly as he said. Tesla's hero-worship was, on one hand, irritating and on another, almost affirming. It didn't mean he owed his Fraccion anything, especially not an explanation for an absence or for anything he ever wanted to do.
He could crush Tesla between two fingers and no one would bat an eyelash but what would be the point of that at the moment? He was loyal and convenient and harmless. But, of course, it also meant there was no matter of camaraderie between the two of them. If he wanted to do something, he did it. If Tesla asked, Tesla got what he deserved for asking.
Tesla learned.
But a part of him really wanted to tell this to someone who wouldn't cause a fuss about it, stop it, do something stupid. It was none of of anyone's business what Nnoitra had planned and the Espada code was one of not caring, but what if? There were many questions here. And really, what was the good of a delicious defeat if no one knew? Szayel-Aporro knew that really didn't count.
Tesla would learn about this eventually.
Nnoitra was about to wipe that pitying and holier-than-thou look out of Neliel's eyes. Not close them, but shut at a half-blink. Teach her a lesson. It's win or it's over. You don't walk away etc. It didn't even bother him that he was taking her from behind.
She had turned her back on him, hadn't she? It only seemed the right angle.
Nnoitra-sama had said nothing, but Tesla knew something was going on, today, tomorrow, soon. And torn, he almost felt questions escaping his lips, but said nothing. To no one. It was his duty just to follow. And he remembered who he belonged to.
It was years and years later, but familiar and Tesla was barely alive, had crawled out of the way, his release form melting away with his absence of any power, his wounds gaping, bleeding. The brink of death felt almost justified. He wasn't strong enough to help Nnoitra-sama and from upside down, he could see the fierce battle Nnoitra was having with that Shinigami.
They were evenly matched and he'd seen earlier, with the return form of Neliel, in contrast, just how much stronger Nnoitra-sama had become. And he was glad now, that even if it was a Shinigami going to kill his Espada -- and yes, Nnoitra-sama was going to die, Tesla had long since come to terms with that -- that Nnoitra was dying on his feet, still swinging and a finish by Neliel would've been different. Pride and strength would've melted away, but at least the Shinigami understood Nnoitra-sama's methods of wanting to die.
Didn't understand so far as compromise, but understood so much as he was the same. A beast, to use Neliel's words, swinging even with the blood flying, swinging even with Death breathing in his ear. Ever upward and ever downward in the same slash. The dying part of death wasn't the part Nnoitra-sama avoided. It was how he was brought to his knees.
And almost as Tesla remembered this, there was a final slash and he heard the cut even before the blood poured from Nnoitra's wounds. Before he crumpled.
The one last thread had been severed and he wondered what Neliel was thinking now, if she felt regret, if she could remember anything in that child form of hers. Their thread had been severed as well, because their only thread had been Nnoitra.
He felt a prickling in his eye, the only one that could see now, and could feel his breathing getting heavier, the blood filling his lungs, his heart beating slower.
Every muscle was numb, but not from anything but the peace of death. Tesla closed his eye as Nnoitra fell, dead, Nnoitra's eyes open and across the battle field, a small form now, Nell closed hers, unknown to Tesla or Nnoitra, alive still, really, but only in the sense she breathed, her heart beat, her muscles moved.
Everything tangled sorted itself, almost like pulling out a knot, but it was the sort of tangle they had become used to, pasts and strengths and egos winding together. The type of tangle that is aware as uncomfortable and now with a sudden fall, and death, it had been finally cut.