Notes: A few quick definitions here.

Kilocalorie is the scientific term for what we call "calories." Like, the calories listed on the side of your box of Cheez-its is actually a kilocalorie. A calorie is the energy needed to raise one gram of water 1 degree Centigrade. A kilocalorie is that multiplied by 1,000, or the energy needed to raise one kilogram of water 1 degree Centigrade. I thought it'd be more accurate for the scientists to use the proper term.

Wabun code is the Japanese version of Morse code. So, dot-dot-dash, but for katakana!

I think that's all. Enjoy!


7: Deserted

Yumichika still felt hollow, even after six days wearing the suppression collar. He wasn't getting at all accustomed to the loss of Ruri'iro's voice in his head when he drew his sword- no better than an asauchi without him being able to tap into his spiritual power- and he wasn't used to feeling so small around the middling-at-best reiatsu of the unranked squad members. It was more than that, though- it was like losing his sight and hearing at once, and his sense of motion. It made the entire world feel like a dollhouse, and he was just another wooden mannequin. Hell, it was like when he'd had to leave Ikkaku. That was like losing an arm. This was like losing the ability to lift it.

"You look unwell." Nemu was over him, and Yumichika bristled, sparks of anger running straight down his spine.

"I feel like shit!" He barked back and slammed his fists on the desk. The ink under his hands smeared, and the walls of the office rattled, knocking flakes of frail dust from the windows blocked by stacks of arcane texts and experiment notes that would never be filed. Nemu didn't flinch, because unlike him, she was already used to what he'd become:

A rat in a cage. He'd never felt so small, weak, or ugly in his life.

"Yes, I can tell. Here." She set down a cup of tea that oozed the scent of lemon and mint. "Your appetite's been poor, I've been instructed to convince you to eat appropriately."

"I don't want it." He turned his face away like a petulant child faced with boiled collard greens. "I feel like I'll be sick if I try."

"The baby needs you to eat. This will help you feel hungry."

Yumichika snatched the cup, still trying to look reluctant, but he knew she was right. A few nasty side effects had sprung up from having his spirit repressed. Without his spirit energy to feed, he didn't feel like eating as much. His first-trimester symptoms had come rushing back, nausea and vomiting in the mornings, and tiredness in the afternoons. He'd fainted twice in the six days since the collar had been put on him, not even counting when the collar was put on in the first place. He'd dropped dead away at that, only revived later in his quarters by Nemu. She'd said that he'd been expressing so much of his pressure trying to keep Kurotsuchi back that having it all turned off at once was a shock to his system. She said it would have been easier if he'd just relaxed and let it happen, and those words made him nearly sick of their own accord. He would never. He'd never laid down for anyone like that. Putting up a fight was his second nature, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Kurotsuchi had wanted him to suffer.

More and more, he was thinking that suffering was the point.

The baby still needed to eat, so Yumichika took the tea and sipped it with muttered thanks. Nemu had the grace to express a little relief on her stiff features, and sat down across from him.

"I suppose you're having trouble sensing the baby, and that's making you uncomfortable."

"It's a lot more than that." He sat back so she could see his shihakusho, pushed out in a neat little black round above the dipped waistband of his hakama. "I can sense him. Just, not with my reiryoku." He put his hands down low on his belly. "He's been moving a lot." He shot her an accusing look. "I hope it's not distress."

"If I might?" She rose to her feet, and he found himself blushing. Nobody else had asked to feel the baby move- the closest he'd gotten was Kurotsuchi's brusque examinations- but even from someone he considered a friend, it was weirdly intimate. He still nodded, and she came around, knelt, and put her hand next to his. Her eyes brightened. "Oh, yes. I do feel him or her." There was an odd tingling, and Yumichika's heart leapt at the feeling of someone else's reiryoku- his might have been shut down, but he had enough left to feel someone else's, especially one as strong as hers. "And I can say that I don't sense stress or distress."

"You can tell?"

Nemu nodded. "I don't think the Captain would let me say much more, but I don't sense immediate danger."

"Oh." The heat in his cheeks moved up to his eyes, and he sniffled as tears leaked out. "Oh, Nemu, thank you, thank you-" He got up to hug her, but the heat left him all at once, and he collapsed for the third time in six days.

He opened his eyes in Nemu's hold, humiliated because he couldn't recover his pride. He was getting more and more wounded every time he took a hit like this, feeling battered and beat down into the ground.

Like any trapped animal, he was getting the itch to bite back.


The moment Yumichika got the collar removed could only be compared to the sensation of leaving school at the end of a long, harrowing year for summer vacation, but rather than boasting of how excited he was to go swimming and on vacation and to play video games until his eyes bled, he had a whole new agenda in mind.

"I'm going to meditate and have a good, long talk with Kujaku," he babbled to Nemu as she handed him his clothes. The sensation of having his reiryoku flowing through him again was like new blood pumping in his veins. The air tasted better, fresher, and the world felt warmer. He could even ignore the gaps and blank spaces he'd been feeling, because compared to nothing, having any of his spiritual energy back made him feel whole. "Oh, and I'm starved! I could eat for weeks! I'm raiding the pantry, and like hell if I'll let any of your cleanup squad stop me. There better be pickled radishes and ginger snaps in there, or someone's getting a mouthful." He clenched his fists. "Or a faceful. Nobody's going to stop me!" He didn't quite notice that she'd given him a bigger kosode and shitagi until it was on and clearly meant to give him room to fill in. He also didn't hear Kurotsuchi laughing as he took notes.

"Yes, enjoy that."

"You know what?" Yumichika slipped his waraji on and cocked in towards Kurotsuchi. "I think I just might." He smirked a little, pretending confidence. "Man, am I glad you're not allowed to kill me. I'm almost having fun seeing how far you can push this."

"Are you, now?" Kurotsuchi lowered his pen for a scant moment, and his lips spread into a vicious smirk. "We're not quite done, so don't go getting ahead of yourself." He chuckled a bit and waved Yumichika off, and Yumichika only just heard his follow-up: "I can make you wish you were a lot more careful with that little contract of yours."

That little line gave him chills, and any warm joy he'd felt at having his spiritual energy back had to live under that pall. No, nobody stopped him from gorging on the pickled radishes in the pantry, nor did they keep him away from the ice cream or ginger cookies, and he managed to find a quiet grassy spot between research buildings and barracks houses to meditate with Ruri'iro Kujaku for a while, but he wasn't enjoying it nearly as much as he wanted to. It was like knowing he had summer school, because as far as he could remember, summer had never been so cold.

He got another examination by Kurotsuchi a few days later, who had a quiet, intense conversation with Nemu over the little screen that Yumichika still longed to see, but now did so without a word. It had been twenty-one weeks, after all, if it hadn't happened before, it sure wasn't going to start now. However, Kurotsuchi dismissed him without another word, no new tests, no imposed trial. Not even a threat. Yumichika walked out nervously scratching his midsection, cautiously relieved but not free of a niggling, suspicious itching at his throat, shoulders, and hips. It could have been dry skin, but he had a bad feeling it was something else.

He should have run screaming, but he didn't know where he could possibly go anymore.

The next morning, he bellied up to the kitchen for breakfast, tray out to be filled with food he was sort of getting used to, but when the man serving today saw him, he reached down under the counter. "Captain's orders. I've been instructed to give you this." He passed something in a paper wrapper over the barrier, and Yumichika unwrapped the edge. It looked like a tan brick, though not as big, with flecks of blue and red here and there, and had no discernible smell. Like plain wheat flour. Yumichika wrinkled his nose.

"Is this edible? For eating?"

"It's called a nutraloaf, and yes." The server moved on to the next shinigami in the line, and Yumichika suddenly found the greyish omelets more tempting than they'd ever been. He imagined this was the result of one of Kurotsuchi's earlier experiments, and that just about everyone else in this room had been fed this. The server's blank expression didn't say so, but the body language of the shinigami next to him in line when she saw the brick on his plate- a shudder at the shoulders and a wrinkle of her nose and eyebrow- told him enough.

"Alright, then can I have some-" The server was ignoring him, and Yumichika realized this was all he was getting for breakfast. "Shit."

The "nutraloaf" was an energy bar from hell. No flavor, and it was chewy with weird hard chunks. Still, as dense as it was, it had to have some nutrition value. He was only about halfway through choking it down when Nemu joined him, and he heard her muffle an uncomfortable noise as she set her tray down and sat, deliberately avoiding eye contact as he dropped the loaf- brick, really- and pushed it towards her.

"This is awful. Have you had it before? They wouldn't give me any other breakfast!" He folded his arms and sulked, and Nemu slumped down with sympathy plain on her face.

"I have had them. I helped with the initial testing. They're perfectly nutritionally balanced by vitamin, mineral, fiber content, and overall food value, and the Captain adjusted the formula to supply the extra kilocalories and nutrients you need to sustain your pregnancy."

"Ugh!" Yumichika dragged it back towards himself and grabbed up the bar again. "I guess this is his test for the week?" He took another reluctant bite, ground it forcefully in his teeth, and gulped it down with exaggerated difficulty. "I get my three squares a day in the most literal fashion possible." He drained the water in his glass with a heave, and realized Nemu's face had dropped. "Nemu?"

"Yumichika, that is your three squares for today."

Yumichika felt the entire damned thing lodge in his throat, about to hurl itself out of his mouth and back onto the plate, and he doubted it would look or taste any different if it did. He couldn't keep the terrified waver from his voice. "You mean this is all I'm going to eat today?"

"As much water as you like, but yes. That is your entire days' worth of caloric and nutritional intake."

Yumichika had never thought of himself as a glutton. He wasn't picky with food, and ate enough to sustain his spiritual energy and in balanced proportions. He'd never been the type to go for sweet or salty snacks, even at parties or while bar-hopping. But this wasn't food, and he damn sure wasn't the only one eating it right now.

He tossed the rest of the bar down and forced himself to swallow it, a move he instantly regretted from the sharp corners in his esophagus, but jumped up from the table. "Where the hell is the Captain?" Tears had sprung to his eyes, not just from the ache in his throat but an ache deep in the pit of his heart.

Captain Kurotsuchi had begun his morning rounds through the laboratories when Yumichika stormed the physics lab, as mad as hornets who'd built their nest in a concrete mixer and buzzing with building rage with every turn. "Captain, I ain't gonna stand for this!" He ground to a halt in front of him, huffing and puffing steam. "You're gonna starve me-"

"Now, why would I ever do that?" Kurotsuchi's simper was so blatantly patronizing it was disgusting. "You were the one complaining about malnutrition just the other day. I've decided to fix it. After all," he lifted his eyes and spun a careless hand, "left to your own devices, you'll just gobble up sweets and snacks." He smirked wide and prodded Yumichika's ever-more-prominent middle, his fingernails sharp enough to pierce. Yumichika flinched- the gesture felt too much like violation. "Look at you," Kurotsuchi mocked softly. "I wouldn't believe you were with child from the outside. I'd think you a greedy, lazy pig, guzzling down junk food with no thought for your health. I'm doing you a favor."

"But I need actual food." Yumichika stepped back and folded his hands over his middle. "If I start wanting things like ginger or vanilla or pickles and I can't get them, I'll go stir-crazy!"

"A little self-control will fix that. God knows you could use some." Kurotsuchi rolled his eyes, and seized on Yumichika's shoulder. "After all, here you are, interrupting my work with another accursed tantrum!" He dug his fingernails in and pushed Yumichika towards the door. He skidded on the linoleum tile as he tried to resist, but it was useless. None of the scientists looked up from their paperwork, their beakers, tubes, or monitors clearly much more interesting than his anguish, and nobody came to his defense as Kurotsuchi pushed him out the door. Yumichika threw one last barb:

"This is inhumane! You can't do this to me!"

"Oh, I think you'll find I can." Kurotsuchi's tone was just as mocking and patronizing, but he was no longer smiling. "You're a test subject. A guinea pig. And you'll find when I agreed to your terms, it was on the terms that I could do anything I wanted." He released Yumichika, his smirk turning seamlessly to a grimace as he backed towards the dark doorway. "So, in terms you might understand: Shut your ugly mouth. Guinea pigs don't talk."

He slammed the door, and Yumichika was dumbstruck, jaw agape, and he stumbled back onto the dust of the unkempt lawn between research buildings. It took a moment for him to compose himself enough to look on the bright side: Kurotsuchi couldn't see and mock his dumbfounded expression or the tears running from his eyes.

Even in the sunlight, he was in a dark place when he curled his knees in as close as he could and put his head in his folded arms. He couldn't feel the dirt under him, or the mild wind between buildings. All he felt was his growling stomach and a compulsion to eat something, anything solid so he could replace the coarse meal gumming up his stomach acid. He sat there for a long time, as much in his own miserable corner as if he'd been locked away in his cell. Hopeless didn't begin to describe the situation, for two reasons: he had asked for this, Kurotsuchi was right, and running would be pointless now.

He only came out of the shadow when a soft, light hand landed on his shoulder. "Yumichika?" Nemu rolled the heel of her palm on his shoulder. "The sixth and eighth squads are waiting for zanjutsu technique instruction."

"Mm. Right." He smeared the tears from his face, but they kept coming nonetheless. Nemu helped him to a stand, then pushed a gourd into his hand.

"Drink lots of water. It'll make the grains swell up and keep you full longer." She backed away from him, and he realized she'd whispered before when she spoke up: "You're to go about your normal daily duties otherwise."

"Th-thank you, Lieutenant." He took the gourd and took a gulp from it, and gave her a smile. She hurried away, face red, and he turned for the training yard.

His stomach was growling already, and the water wasn't helping.


The water never helped. Yumichika was hungry an hour after eating the awful nutraloaf, and guzzling water to keep his stomach full just made him have to piss like a racehorse every twenty minutes, and god was that embarrassing during technique training! It wasn't like he was one of the less-domesticated members of the Eleventh who'd whip it out on the side of the field, he at least needed some privacy! Worse, while he wasn't forced to go sit through afternoon and evening meals with the squad, he could smell it. By day two, he was smelling food everywhere. He was smelling it on the squad members' clothes and breath and even in their sweat.

It wasn't even food he liked and he wanted it. He could tell who'd sneaked out of the HQ for lunch and gotten fried pepper steak, who was back from the Living World and had bought a bag of salt water taffy, who was chewing gum, and he would have taken it right out of their mouths if he could. Ginger was the worst, because even the slightest whiff- which, with his sensitive nose, could be as small as a single piece of pickled ginger someone ate an hour ago, at ten paces- his mouth flooded with saliva, and his stomach roared until it was damn near painful to stand. Every signal in his brain screamed, "That! You need that! That should be yours, in your mouth, now!"

He tried. He did. He tried to sneak into the mess hall's pantry to grab something to slake some of the hunger. However, when he got close, he realized that there was an unseated shinigami posted there, book open in hand but shoulder blades pressed against the door. He spotted Yumichika when he heard his sharp, angry inhale, and whipped out a whistle.

"I'm warning you, Officer Ayasegawa! The Captain will hear this!" He dropped his book, knees shaking, already fumbling with the little silver whistle. Yumichika smirked- at least he'd made some impression- but the guard pointed a trembling finger at his middle. "Just 'cause you can thrash us when you're showing us techniques doesn't mean I won't win now! Those are practice swords, and you've got the baby to worry for!"

"Yeah?" Yumichika crept closer, drawing out Ruri'iro Kujaku as he neared. He could feel the sword's spirit humming with excitement, obviously more than ready to unleash its pent-up energy after months of quiet, but the guard pulled his zanpakuto as well. It was an asauchi, but it was long. He quietly assessed himself- he might have been skilled, but with his extra weight, he wasn't as fast or nimble as usual, and he was pretty sure shunpo would just make him nauseous. In addition to that, any kind of serious fight would make a significant ruckus, and send the entire squad within earshot to see what was going on. Finally, he shuddered internally to think what would happen if a real blade were to make contact with his belly. He stopped, close to the guard, and gave him his best glare. "You feel good about what you're doing, soldier?"

"It's my job as one of Captain Kurotsuchi's men," the shinigami guard mumbled, still shaking but clearly steeling himself with his back still on the door. "You might have been a Seated Officer, but you're a test subject here, and you have to follow the experiment's procedures no matter how much freedom you have otherwise."

Yumichika glared a moment longer, but he felt his eyes taking heat. He punched a dent in the door next to the shinigami's head, but pivoted on his heel and stalked away, tears still gathering in his eyes.

He couldn't sleep at nights. His stomach ached and groaned, and he got heartburn that could set even wet kindling ablaze from the acid eating away at his insides. His mind, too, was far too busy with worry. What did it mean for the baby for him to deny his food cravings, or his cravings for any sustenance at all? Even if he was fed, his gut- rather, his instinct- told him he needed to listen to his body. That he couldn't do so left him in anguish for whatever horrible things this was doing to him.

Add to that the nightmarish knowledge that Kurotsuchi had done these sorts of tests before, and had told Yumichika just enough to coil around his mind and hang there like a waiting noose. He'd mentioned developing these diets. He'd also mentioned that he'd lied to, or "misdirected" his "subjects" and told them they were receiving a complete, wholesome diet when it simply wasn't true. Kurotsuchi could be lying to him. This "diet" could be dried, ground, compacted former Fourth Division members, or worse, and he'd be none the wiser until something unimaginable happened to him or the baby. He had no way of knowing.

The baby still kicked, especially when he was lying down. He hoped it was still a baby when all was said and done. Had he included that in the contract? He did his best to communicate back, rubbing the tender spots left raw on his skin, pulsing his reiatsu in Wabun code to spell out "I LOVE YOU" over and over. The baby responded with little flares of its own energy, frantic and wild, but he couldn't tell if it was happy, or scared, or just responding. Something lay in the dark unknown inside him, and he could know nothing.

All the worrying wrung him out, but he still found no rest except scant, sleepless dreams that never lasted. He got woken up by his full bladder, by nightmares of creeping hands tearing their way out of him, by visions of Ikkaku running through his mind. He would wake in a cold sweat, the moon not having moved from the last he saw it, and creep from his bed to dunk his face in cold water and guzzle down another glass in vain hopes of silencing his empty stomach and overfull mind.

No amount of water was helping it. Nothing was.


Cranky, hungry, and moody, Yumichika might, were he in a better state of mind, admit that he was having some difficulty handling his duties. If he was going to be honest with himself, then he was a walking wreck.

His hunger fueled him in bursts, and he made whatever squad members were assigned to train with him very aware of it. The sixth day of the test was no exception. "Alright, you maggots!" Yumichika's stomach was growling already as he got to the front of the arena and folded his arms. "We're sparring. Throw everything you've got at each other, and I'm gonna give whichever one of you proves himself a shot at me."

"Uh, sir?" Yumichika's eyes flashed to the source of the voice, a member of the ninth squad with a raised hand, one who wasn't particularly impressive. "Isn't that unsafe for you?"

"Do I look like I give a shit right now?" He drew Ruri'iro. "You all keep complaining, and we're using real swords. I want to see some goddamned action. You want your fucking specimens, you're gonna have to fight for 'em one of these days!" He spread his stance, his stomach sticking out a little more in his aggressive pose. "Hollows don't give a shit what your deal is. And you don't give a shit about them, so don't pretend to!"

There were a few anxious murmurs, and Yumichika advanced on the protester. "You're first, dickweed." He yanked his collar, then whirled back to the rest of them. "All of you, pair off and practice! I'll be watching you!"

Yumichika grabbed the guys who were doing the best in their matches to face him, and one-by-one, he dominated every single one of them and sent them into the wall. By the time technique training was over, he'd had to send six of them to the Fourth Division, and Nemu was rushing in as the last of them was carried out. Yumichika had kicked his waraji off and dropped onto a bench in the shade. He was guzzling down a bottle of water, with blood streaming down his forehead from the one good blow his last victim- er, opponent had dealt him, and made an altogether savage picture.

"Officer Ayasegawa!" Nemu waved, her voice in tremors, as she approached, but dropped to a whisper when she got close. "Yumichika, I've been asked to inform you that you are not allowed to take your frustrations out on our men. The Captain is, er, most incensed at the prospect of explaining your behavior to the healers' squad while remaining within the bounds of your agreement."

"Nemu, you're a doll, but as it stands, I just can't seem to give two flying fucks what the Captain has to do to keep our agreement." Yumichika drained the last of the water in his gourd and spit some of it out onto the ground next to him, then slumped over, long fingers nearly brushing the ground. "You tell me to train the troops, I trained the troops. Now I've got a whole bunch of 'em who won't make the same mistake twice."

"Please." Nemu laced her fingers in front of her sash, and shuffled her feet on the dirt. "I know you're upset, but you can't hurt people."

"I really can't do much of anything, can I?" Yumichika tried to take another drink, but the gourd was dry, so he settled for crushing it in his palm and dropping the shards on the ground. Nemu whimpered, but Yumichika carefully stood up and put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm upset. I'm hungry. I'm feeling a little tense. And I'm hungry." He stepped past her and put both hands on his belly. "Did I mention I was hungry?"

"I know," Nemu whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. "And I wish I could help."

Yumichika turned on her, lips curled back and brows furrowed, but he pivoted back just as quick. Nemu was his one ally here. He couldn't hurt her now. Even on a bad day, he could tell he was lashing out, like anyone as strong as him might when so thoroughly crippled.

On consideration, it was just as bad as having his reiatsu suppressed, only with active pain instead of just the building ache of being shut off from so much of himself.

After stewing while the rest of the squad had their lunch hour, all he had was afternoon desk work, and that left him only Nemu and maybe one or two other seated members to unleash his stress onto. For Nemu's sake, he resolved to keep quiet, made easier by her not being there when he arrived. He realized dimly that he'd underestimated how long the lunch hour was, and was alone. More so than usual. His paperwork was already there for him, looming ominous in the orange light of the office's blocked windows, and he sighed as he flipped through the first few pages. Requisitions for sodium... nitrous... fuck, whatever that was, requests for test animals and safety equipment, reports that needed to be cataloged, duty assignments from the First Squad and... the food requisition form.

Yumichika saw red, and the entire stack was suddenly on the floor and he was stomping on it. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!" He didn't care what sort of graceless display this way, Kurotsuchi was just mocking him now! Dangling food right in front of him!

Thirty seconds of swearing and violence at innocent paper later, Yumichika realized exactly how silly he had to look, and caught his breath. He dropped down to his knees to pick them up, and it was about then he heard approaching footsteps and a vaguely familiar voice at the door.

"Eleventh Division, right? You're Officer Ayasegawa." Yumichika glanced up to see Akon at the door, eyebrows raised and a hand on his hip. His gaze shot right to his feet- they were a lot paler than the skin of his face and hands- but Akon was scratching his head. "Uh, what're you doing here?"

"Weren't you told? I'm your temporary replacement." Yumichika quickly shuffled the papers in his hands into a neat stack and set it aside, avoiding Akon's gaze. "Not to worry, they'll send me back when you're recovered." He ran his eyes over Akon again. "I was told it'd be longer."

"It is, yeah." Akon scratched his head again. "But I'm up and around." He shuffled closer and got down on his knee to help gather the papers. Yumichika could tell his gait was shaky, and he was unbalanced even with a knee on the ground. "I've been cleared for very light duty and the Captain wants to..." Akon sighed, head hung. "Try some stuff." He handed Yumichika a stack of his dropped papers. "I'm sure he's been trying stuff on you too, huh?"

"Oh, you have no idea." Yumichika rolled his eyes as he got to a stand, and Akon blanched, eyes wide, when he saw Yumichika's shape under the hang of his kosode.

"Hell! He's gotten to you, too?!"

"It's a long story. Let's not talk about it," Yumichika muttered, then flashed him a fierce glare over the papers in his hands. "And do me a favor and talk to nobody else about it, either." He put his papers back in a neat pile. "Just..."

"No, I get it." Akon actually looked genuinely sympathetic. He probably hadn't been told Yumichika was nothing but a guinea pig, and the thought that every other squad member had made his ears burn. Akon went on with a sigh, "I better clear out before the Captain finds out I came in. I just wanted to look over these." He grabbed a few packets from a dust-coated inbox, and gave Yumichika's shoulder a firm pat. "I'll see you, Ayasegawa. Try not to let it get to you."

"Mmhm." Yumichika lowered his eyes in deference, and Akon shuffled past him, shoulders slumped, and Yumichika could distinctly hear him mutter:

"Glad it's not me."

The papers were on the ground in an instant flurry of parchment and printed ink, and Yumichika was swearing and stomping again.

Nemu came in just as Yumichika got his pile sorted again, but stopped cold. Yumichika could imagine why. It was either the puffiness in his eyes or his red cheeks, or the tremors in his hands, because he surely looked an angry little mess, but she quietly got over it and went to her desk with her smooth brow knit into slight wrinkles. "Are you drinking enough?" she broached, and Yumichika moaned as he sank down into his chair.

"Of course I am." He dropped his forehead against the desk, then lifted his face to fix her with an angry stare. "Do you know how often I've had to excuse myself because of how much I've been drinking?"

"I'm sorry," she squeaked quickly, and he sighed and turned in his chair to face her, legs spread a little to flex his hips.

"No, I am. I know this isn't your fault. I did this to myself." He cupped his belly, and flared his reiatsu. The baby kicked in response, and he smiled sadly. Nemu's head perked up, intrigued.

"Oh, I felt that. Have you been communicating with it like that?"

"A little, yeah," he dismissed, and put both hands on the swell. "I love it, after all, it's mine."

"And someone else's."

"And his, yeah." Yumichika's face fell again. He shifted around again to face the mind-numbing paperwork awaiting him, wishing it could possibly drive everything else from his mind. Nemu didn't seem to be quite ready to put her nose to the grindstone yet, still watching him with wide, wet eyes.

"I'm sure the hunger must be difficult, but the Captain's experiments aside, this is very much worth it, isn't it?" She raised herself from her chair and tiptoed to his side, then knelt down by his feet. She let her hand light on his middle and gave it a careful caress. "For the sake of having that man's child, yes?" Heat flushed Yumichika's face, and he nodded, though feeling numb. "I've seen him, you know. At the Lieutenant's meetings, with Lieutenant Kusajishi."

"I'd thought you would." He smiled a little, though the words were torn out of tender places in his chest as he went on. "How... how is he?"

"As good as can be expected." Nemu lowered her head a little, and Yumichika could tell she was deflecting. She was leaving something unsaid, but as her hand traveled over his middle, he forgot to demand she tell him more. "You know," she continued, her eyes shifting to the gray cabinets on the walls and the orange light falling on them in oblong, interrupted squares, the white drop tiles of the ceiling, anywhere but his face, "I spoke with him. A bit. He's... er... eccentric, isn't he?"

"Well, I wouldn't think you'll find anyone who isn't at least a little eccentric in the Eleventh." He settled back in his chair and let her continue her gentle ministrations to his midsection, relaxed by her touch but somewhat unnerved with her words. "I guess you could say the same for the Twelfth. Hell, any of us going out and putting our necks out for others like we do, we're all a little weird."

"Hmm." Nemu leaned into the side of his chair, the creases in her face shifting like an owl's might. "I suppose I was being indirect. I suppose I should say, from what I know of you, he doesn't seem the type of man you would want to be partners with."

"Why not?" Yumichika's arms and back tensed, and he sat up just enough to push her off. "What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing, particularly." Nemu sat up now too, and scooted back on her knees then rolled to a stand. "But he doesn't seem like a likely romantic match for you." She perched herself on the edge of his desk, knees tight together and feet dangling flexed against the sideboard. "He's rather coarse. His manners and socialization leave much to be desired, nor is he particularly intelligent. He's middling in terms of physical attraction, certainly not so much as you. You might consider his brutish ways downright ugly." She pursed her lips for a moment as she watched Yumichika's nostrils flare. "From everything I've seen, he's just not your type, as most would put it. I would think Captain Muguruma or Captain Otoribashi might appeal to your aesthetics."

"Yeah, but that doesn't matter." Yumichika grounded his heels and cocked his head back. "Ikkaku's got the most beautiful face I've ever laid eyes on."

"Elaborate, if you would."

"Sheesh!" Yumichika kicked his feet out and lifted his gaze to the ceiling. "He's just beautiful to me. I think I love those eyes of his the most." Nemu could feel the sentiment in those words, and see it in his face light pink on his nose and cheeks, and in an expression like that of someone floating on champagne bubbles. "They're so sharp, so fierce, so focused. They're the kind of eyes that can see right through bullshit and get to what's real." He chuckled a little, and used the tip of his toe to rock his chair on the floor. "And his features are ruggedly handsome, too. All his scars and bumps just speak to his experience, his worldly knowledge, and all the paths he's walked." Yumichika hummed and toyed with his hair as his mind drifted. "If he lost an ear, I'd kiss the hole that was left. If he lost an eye, I'd kiss the socket. They'd just be part of him and be beautiful for it." Nemu smiled at this, so Yumichika leaned back a little further and continued. "I love his strength, too. I love that he never backs down when he's challenged." He scoffed. "He doesn't let me give him shit, that's for sure." He gave himself another rock, and rested one hand over his navel. "But at the same time, he lets me be me, as much as I need to. He doesn't care that I take forever sometimes getting my makeup just right, even if he does tease me." He touched his cheek for a moment. "I know he hardly notices the difference, but he knows to say sweet things to me when I try harder."

Yumichika started keeping count on his fingers. "He's dependable. If something needs done, he'll do it, especially if it means kicking the shit out of something. He's passionate about what he does, always gets so fired up about it! Have you seen the Lucky Dance?"

"No, I..." Nemu considered it, but could only remember hearing a note of song when he'd said the word during conversation once. "I don't believe I have."

"God, it's the stupidest thing. He does these Kabuki poses and sings this song- I dunno." Yumichika cleared his throat, but he couldn't make himself sing it, instead lamely chanting: "Who is lucky? I am lucky! None so lucky as me!" He burst into laughter, hard enough that it made his eyes and face hurt. "It's so stupid! I have to roll my eyes at him, but when we're in a bad situation and he does it, 'cause he's getting all fired up, it makes me a lot less tense." He held his hand up, trying to remember where his count was, but couldn't. There was too much. "It's... it's a charming quirk. He has a lot of them."

Yumichika hesitated, feeling the walls close, too close for comfort, but Nemu stared expectantly, so he had to go on. "He's... he's got strong convictions. I like that. He sticks to his guns." He sighed sadly. "Can't fault a man who knows what he wants, what he likes and hates, and isn't shy about it." His hands dropped to his middle. "After all, he would hate this." He sighed again, because something was building up in him and had no other way to escape. He felt strangely hollow as it kept coming. "Really, what you should be asking is why he likes me. He's better and stronger than me, more true to himself, better than I could ever be. All I really see in myself that he might like is my beauty, but he's never been one for appearances. I can stand at his side, but I can't..." He slumped over, and Nemu's brow wrought up.

"Yumichika?"

"Was that what you were getting at, Nemu?" He stiffened completely, and lifted his eyes, reddened with anger and tears. "That he's better off without me? That I have nowhere to go if I give up?"

"Oh, no, Yumichika, no!" Nemu dropped to the floor and held her hands out, and her voice started to tremble. "I had only hoped thinking of him might distract you-"

"You've got it in for me, too, you're just Kurotsuchi's puppet!" He jumped up to his feet and threw his chair back. She winced at his words, hands over her mouth, but he roared on, "You just wanna hold me down and make me feel worthless so you can treat me like trash!"

"Please, I hate what he's doing too, I just-" Nemu was shaking all over, but Yumichika was blind with rage, like a rabid dog cornered and biting back at the catch pole.

"I'm not stupid! I'm not a genius, but I can see through this!" He knocked his papers over again, sending them flurrying like a tornado passing through. "You don't have to torture me with things I can't have anymore! If you're trying to break me, consider me shattered! A thousand, million, ugly jagged pieces that you can manipulate however you want, and what the hell can I do about it anymore?!" He pushed past her, and she squeaked, but he stormed for the door.

For a split second, he leaned on the jamb between the office and the hall, still aware of Nemu quivering behind him. Regret inched its way into his heart- Did Nemu really mean so ill? Should he have been so harsh? Too late now. He hung his head and marched on. He needed to beat something into submission, and he couldn't very well do it to himself.


He drifted, listless and lonesome, through the next two days of hunger. No interaction with another soul whatsoever except for giving instructions during training. The tastelessness of his daily meals spread to every other facet of his life, until he was nothing but a transient cloud drifting under the gray pall of hunger and fear. Nemu approached him near mid-day of the seventh day of the limited diet, but didn't speak. He had spent the lunch hour seated on some of the grass between buildings, the way Kenpachi would use the world as an office, but put his legs out in front of him and watched the sky. He thought he could see some of the buildings of the Eleventh Division over the walls and through the trees and other buildings. His stomach was still growling, but that had become such a near-constant that it was all part of the gray.

Just like the rest of his world made small.

After standing behind him for a few minutes without him greeting her, she broke the silence. "Ayasegawa, the Captain would like to examine you."

"Mhm." He lifted himself to his feet with a lot more care than usual, and slouched at her side. She seemed taller than him, with her back straight and rigid and her arms folded oppressively tight against her chest to hold her clipboard. He shuffled along at her side, with everything rotten in his world running through his head in a constant, rushing stream. He was small, dirty, alone, hideous, a disgrace, sullied, ruined, he'd ruined everything good he had...

Nemu held her notebook out to Kurotsuchi as she arrived in the office, and Yumichika mechanically stripped his clothes off, dropping them to a sloppy pile on the floor. His eyes stayed forward as he stepped on the scale, and Kurotsuchi had the gall to chuckle as he noted it down.

"One-fifty. You're exactly on target. And quieter, to boot."

Yumichika swallowed hard, but he stepped down and towards the examination table. He hardly heard Nemu addressing Kurotsuchi behind him. "It seems that the previously-observed effect on the morale of individuals on this diet holds true for pregnant individuals. Even more so, by my observation. If we were to maintain him on the limited diet, then his emotional well-being is at risk."

"Stupid girl, that's not what I was looking for." Kurotsuchi slapped her notebook on his desk. "I do hope you didn't waste all your time frittering about stupid things like feeling and emotions!"

"You'll find him significantly less cooperative than usual."

"Bah!" Kurotsuchi waved her off. "Just go stand and watch. I can deal with an uncooperative animal."

Yumichika didn't even feel pain at the insults anymore.

He was still and quiet as Kurotsuchi performed the sonogram, snickering quietly all the while. "Yes, I'd hoped you'd develop a bit of restraint. It's a shame, such a shame, that it had to be forced on you to give you a modicum of dignity." Yumichika held his tongue, even as Kurotsuchi palpated his belly with cold, gnarled hands. "This poor, stupid thing would suffer terribly if its mother was incapable of extracting his head from his anus."

"I think it'd be worse," he muttered, his hands drifting protectively to the top of the swell, "if we were to starve."

"Oh, please! You weren't starving!" Kurotsuchi rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw. "I gave you a full 3,200 kilocalories daily, with a balanced mix of carbohydrates, protein, fat, fiber, and assorted nutrients! You have nothing to complain about! It's not my fault you digested it too quickly!"

"You can feed me that line, but even I'm not hungry enough to eat it." Yumichika was starting to feel the fire burning against the ice he'd been caged in. "You've given me no reason to believe you. For all I know, you're feeding me Hollow masks and dirt."

"Hah! As if I would risk my experiment like that!" He flicked Yumichika's protruding navel. "Hold your tongue. Here I was just giving you credit for gaining some self control."

"Stop touching me!" Yumichika swiped his belly clean and rolled off the examination table to his feet, knocking the wand out of Kurotsuchi's hand in the process. "I swear, you're not a scientist, you're a torture technician!"

Kurotsuchi rattled to a halt as Yumichika snatched his pants off the ground and yanked them up. "Repeat that."

Yumichika didn't have the sense of mind to hear the dare, the utter challenge in those words, and he whirled around on Kurotsuchi, and stuck his chin out and put his face far too close to the Captain's, matching him glare for glare. "I said you're not a scientist, you're a dungeon master! You don't even conduct experiments, you just make everyone around you miserable because you get off on it!"

He could smell the meat and salt on Kurotsuchi's breath, and then felt the anger flooding out of his reiatsu. He felt it a second too late, because Kurotsuchi's hand was in his hair and he was chanting some sort of kido spell. Yumichika finally got enough sense to struggle as ropes closed around his wrists and ankles.

"Dear boy," Kurotsuchi growled. "How dare you. I have accomplished more in my work here in the past century than you could even dream of accomplishing in a millennium!" Yumichika opened his mouth to protest, but the ropes wrapped around his jaw in a flash, leaving him biting down on cord. "I," Kurotsuchi snarled, "have dedicated my full existence to improving the lives of shinigami! Sacrifices must be made for the sake of science, and you're one of them, boy."

"No!" Nemu suddenly gasped, and sprang forward. "Captain, your agreement! I won't-"

Kurotsuchi swung his arm out and struck Nemu. The blow sent her flying, crashing into the desk behind her and the tubes and beakers and equipment with a thundering clatter. "Impudent girl! I've no need for a subordinate who doesn't follow orders!" Yumichika cried out and tried to thrash towards Nemu's prone form, motionless on the broken table- he could still see her breathing, but only just- but Kurotsuchi pulled him around and brought him face to face again. "As for our 'agreement,' boy?" Kurotsuchi smirked. "Perhaps you should have read your own words a little more carefully. But really, whoever saw either of us sign the silly thing?" The simper, the mocking was back to his tone, but Yumichika didn't have teeth to bite back anymore. "You're dissatisfied with our arrangement? Fine! Consider it moot." That horrible grin was back in full force, his oppressive spirit crushing down around him from every dark wall. "I no longer guarantee your survival..." He flung a door behind him open, and Yumichika smelled blood from below. "... and you're no longer a voluntary test subject."