Mayuri Kurotsuchi is on assignment in the real world, and Urahara takes the opportunity to nose around the turncoat's laboratory – Szayel Aporro's former playground. His feet are bare; his sandals have been dispensed with before entry to lessen the impact of sole on stone.
The place is everything one expects of a high tech laboratory. The air is sterile and antiseptic. Cold fluorescent lighting and chrome and steel tubing complement the impersonal objective.
A long lone corridor, one of many, is flanked by test rooms, the doors marked by roman numerals. The large glass windows that front a few of the rooms are an intimidating black being unlit from inside. The effect is at once haunting and mysterious.
Urahara moves swiftly on, wary of his own curiosity, until he reaches the central chamber.
The light is softer here, dimmed. Much of the illumination is provided by the softly glowing monitors on the far wall – a massive bank of them. A low table, partially resting in shadow, is situated to the right, surrounded by many tubes and wires.
With long yet cautious steps, the intruder moves to the computer terminal, hoping to access information on gigai. He is very familiar with the process already, of course, after illegally adapting gigai for his own ends, but before he can embark on a plan of escape he needs to know the location of the appropriate materials. It seems logical that a database of equipment and materials will be kept here.
Urahara studiously avoids looking at the low table, aware of what horror is to be found there, as he scans the archives for the relevant details.
A few frenzied minutes of key bashing pass, as Urahara attempts to hack into certain parts of the system – only to be repeatedly denied access. He glances over his shoulder at more regular intervals as time passes, and his fear of discovery increases.
With sweat lazily meandering down his temple, Urahara finally admits defeat and quickly covers his tracks before running towards the exit. In his panic he is heedless of the extra sound it produces.
A sudden groan arrests his flight.
The test subject that lies upon the unforgiving steel surface has roused from his drug induced sleep, and is now cognizant of the presence of another.
Urahara feels his sweat cool as the teen's head turns his way, noticing of all things, how his hair is highlighted blue in places by the dull light reflecting off the apparatus.
Their eyes meet, despite Urahara's attempts not to look into the face that has suffered so much, and for so long.
What did he fear to see in those blue eyes? A plea for help? A beg for death? Condemnation?
There is a surplus of suffering but it is overshadowed by shame.
Urahara desires nothing more than to avert his eyes and to deny sight, but in the end it is Ishida Uryuu who turns his head away. It is the Quincy boy who cannot bear to be seen in this state.
It is a distraught man that lies awake on a soft bed that very same night, wondering how he manages, despite everything, to live with himself and the roads travelled.