Interlude

Yylfordt Granz's Resurrección release faded as he lay in the crater created by his fall. He gasped for breath, but the blood in his throat and lungs made it impossible. Burned, battered and broken by the Lieutenant's Bankai, Yylfordt knew he was dying.

As he was supposed to.

His strength was gone. The hilt of his sword lay on his palm, but he hadn't the energy to close his fingers around it. He couldn't move, could barely breath… there was nothing left for him to do but lie there and die.

He could feel his companions' deaths around him, deaths he knew were unnecessary, though (knowing Szayelaporro) they would undoubtedly be useful somehow to the completion of the plan. Even stronger then that, though, he could feel Grimmjow's rage as he battled the Shinigami Daiko. It made Yylfordt smile. Even though their master knew as much as anyone what they were to achieve with this apparent loss, he was still enraged by their deaths.

"Don't be… too… obvious…" Yylfordy whispered, breaking off into a fit of coughing. Blood seeped out of his mouth, trailing down his chin. It hurt…

Was this their fate, then? If Szayelaporro didn't find another way, was this how it would end for all of them? Grimmjow, so fiercely loyal to his few friends, Ulquiorra, quiet and gloomy, Tesla, eagerly helpful… where they all going to die?

Find a way, Szayelaporro… he thought, no longer able to speak. Save them… brother…

His last breath slipped from his lungs, and the blonde Arrancar's eyes closed forever.

.

Szayelaporro was typing the results of a laboratory experiment when he felt his brother die. He stopped, fingers freezing over the keyboard, as the little presence at the back of his mind disappeared. For a moment he stood there unmoving, then he shook himself out of it and flicked over to the terminal he had had set to receive the information collected by the various devices inside Yylfordt. The stream of information was slowing to a crawl as he watched, until it finally stopped all together. Szayelaporro closed his eyes for a moment. That was that. His brother was gone.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, then began shoving all his regrets to the furthest corners of his mind. It had to happen. And from this point on, he couldn't let himself feel any guilt about it. The information he had collected might lead to the success of the only plan he had, and if everything worked out…

But for now, he reminded himself, he mustn't think of it like that. Yylfordt couldn't matter to him anymore, not as far as anyone outside their conspiracy was concerned. A tool, nothing more.

The other strings of data were all closed now too, and Szayelaporro felt a twinge of pain for Grimmjow. None of them had expected, or wanted, all of the Sexta's Fraccions to die, Shawlong at least had been under orders to retreat should too many die to the Shinigami. They were merely the distraction… part of the excuse.

None of them had had the same devices as Yylfordt, only tiny, weaker ones Szayelaporro had managed to sneak into their bloodstreams without them noticing. He would make the most of it, though, he couldn't let their deaths be meaningless.

This has got to work

He was still sorting through the data when he felt Grimmjow's return to Las Noches. The Espada was burning with rage, but Szayelaporro noticed with satisfaction he had been able to disguise it well from the Shinigami accompanying him. Shinigami, however powerful, couldn't read an Arrancar like another Arrancar could. Szayelaporro wondered for a moment if it had really been worth it, then coldly shoved the question away. It would be worth it. He would make sure of it.