"And how have you been dealing with the knowledge that you will have a new brother or sister soon?"

"I'm looking forward to it, sensei."

"Is that so? How is Lady Tsukiyo coping?"

"She's not as nauseous anymore."

Blue-gray smoke curled from a brazier at the back of the room where a stick of incense was burning. Its sweet scent permeated the air and made him feel drowsy. Still, he resolutely advanced his piece and gave Kaname the coordinates for it so Kaname could visualize his piece on the board and consider how to react to it. Kaname smiled.

"Interesting move. But don't think that just because I'm blind, I can't see what you're doing."

"Was I really so obvious?" Szayel asked. He thought he'd been doing a good job this time in disguising his strategy.

"No. You're doing well. It's just that I'm used to people trying to take advantage of my disability, so I can recognize an attempt quite easily. You've been trying to throw off my mental coordinates in order to disguise the real threat to me."

"Then you'd better deal with that threat," the boy said. He kept his tone neutral, disguising how he really felt. Kaname seemed to have an uncanny ability to read emotion from the slightest of variations in tone, so Szayel had gotten good at hiding emotion. Between him and Asayegawa, Szayel was shaping up to be quite the actor.

"No."

No? Szayel's eyes narrowed.

"I don't understand, sensei."

"Yes, you do."

Damn. So he'd seen through that strategy too… Still, he wouldn't confirm it for him. That was something he'd learned from Kaname; his teacher had successfully mined information from him in the past by pretending he already knew it.

"Then make your move, sensei."

He did. Szayel exhaled. There was no fooling Kaname, evidently. He hadn't been bluffing.

"You've gotten good at Shogi, Szayel. But I have been playing this game for many more years than you have," Kaname said. It was poor consolation. Szayel wanted to win.

He would win.

"I see you're developing conviction."

The words came out of nowhere, and Szayel froze in the middle of considering his next move. An electric current shivered through him as he looked up at his teacher, and he wondered not for the first time just how he seemed to know these things. His perception was far too accurate to be guesswork, but there was no way he could humanly know.

"Sensei…"

"Yes, Szayel?"

He bit his lower lip lightly, not sure how to ask. How did one ask someone if they weren't human? But again, Kaname discerned what it was that he wanted to say before he said it.

"You're wondering if I am a Youkai. I am not."

"Then how? How are you reading my mind?"

"I cannot read minds, Szayel. But I do have a gift that most people don't. I am sensitive to spiritual energy."

"Spiritual energy?"

"I'm surprised your mother hasn't taught you about that yet, though you are still a bit young to be learning magic."

Magic. Kaname knew his mother was magic. Which meant that he knew that she was a Youkai, and that he-

"There is no need to become agitated. I've known what Lady Tsukiyo is from the moment I met her. I know that you've inherited her blood more strongly than your brother. And I mean you no harm. You are my student."

Szayel forced his nerves to settle, though he was sore pressed to stand and flee. He was used to the idea that people killed Youkai, and if anyone found out, they would kill him for being one. But he knew Kaname. He wasn't impulsive, and he was his teacher. Szayel trusted him. Besides, he knew things that Szayel didn't, and he wanted to learn about them.

"What is this spiritual energy then? And why are you sensitive to it?"

"Spiritual energy is present in everything we know, living and non-living. It is one of the great forces that move this world. But most beings aren't aware of it. Animals have some limited sense of it, humans included, but for the most part, we are cut off. Youkai are the exception to this. They are filled with it. It is why a fox can become a Kitsune, or an ordinary cat a Bakeneko. Spiritual energy is what makes them Youkai. Spiritual energy is also what gives them the ability to use magic.

In my case, I was awakened to it when I lost the use of my eyes. My other senses became keener, including my sensitivity to spiritual energy. Once I became aware of it, I continued to explore this sixth sense and develop it. Now, I am even capable of seeing it in my mind's eye. My world is mostly lit up by faint glows. In the case of living beings, the colors change depending on emotions. More powerful sources of spiritual energy glow brighter, like fire or a waterfall or a human with a great deal of presence. You and your mother glow brightest of all."

"So you can see." That was how he seemed to know his way around so well. If everything had spiritual energy, then everything was potentially visible.

"Yes and no. The low grade sources of spiritual energy tend to blend together and form an obscuring haze in my mind, nor can I distinguish details. I don't know what you look like, Szayel."

He'd never judged him on appearance then. But… he had judged him on his emotional state. No matter how good Szayel had gotten at hiding that, Kaname had seen through him. He couldn't hide his spiritual energy… or, maybe he could. He'd have to ask his mother later.

But no wonder Kaname seemed disappointed with him when he'd answered his question about what he wanted. Szayel had been thinking it over. Each time he came to class, he expected Kaname to ask him again, but he never did. It created anxiety within him that he did his best to hide, and usually by the end of the class, he'd forgotten all about it, until the next lesson, at least. It appeared now that Kaname knew about that too, but had chosen not to address it.

He was waiting for Szayel to come up with the answer on his own time.

"So…" Szayel finally stirred and picked up his piece. He was still in the middle of a Shogi match. "Will I learn to see spiritual energy too?"

"Not like I do. You will be able to sense it and manipulate it as if it were something tangible, but unless you lost your sight, it's unlikely that you'd be able to see it."

"What if I blindfolded myself?"

Kaname went silent. Szayel moved his piece and quietly gave him the coordinates. The man didn't speak up again until after he'd responded to Szayel's move.

"If you were willing to blind yourself for a year, it is conceivable that you would begin to see the lights like I do."

A year. He would begin to see them after a year. He wondered how many years it had taken Kaname to reach the point he was at now. But unlike Kaname, Szayel would still be able to see. All he'd have to do was take the blindfold off.

"I'm sorry, sensei. That was insensitive."

"You wouldn't be able to beat me at Shogi even if you learned how to see spiritual energy," Kaname replied.

Szayel stared at his teacher, watching his lips curl up into a rare smile. After a moment, he smiled back.

"Then I'll beat you without that advantage."

-.-.-.-.-.-

He survived. That was the best way to think of it, really. Survival. He felt tired and lifeless, even if day in day out the House girls who were off duty came in to coddle him and bring him things to eat. Umeko came in to sing for him once, though she stopped when he started crying and just sat by him the rest of the time. She insisted on visiting as often as she could. It was her way of returning the favor she said she owed him. He was glad for her company, but at the same time, he wanted to be left alone.

Everything ached. His face and chest hurt the most, since they had taken the worst of the beating, but his body felt like one, giant bruise. Though he hadn't really been conscious for it, the man had also broken his right femur as a parting token. It was now bound firmly to a flat board, and it made moving very painful. For most of the time, he remained in bed, half propped up against pillows.

It was difficult to consider what would happen to him now. The Mistress had thankfully not thrown him out. After she'd seen his wounds miraculously healing, she'd decided to hold onto him for a bit. Perhaps she knew what he was, perhaps not. But she was interested enough to keep him instead of tossing him onto the streets to die by the roadside. She made sure he was cleaned and bandaged, that all his wounds were hidden from view, and that only a select few were privy to the extent of his damages. She didn't want the other girls to know about his regenerative abilities. It would complicate things.

He didn't know if he'd make a complete recovery, but his body was dealing with the trauma much better than he'd expected. Somehow, the ribs that had pierced one of his lungs were no longer lodged there. They'd migrated back to their original position. He didn't know how they'd done this. He was only grateful that they were repairing themselves, because the Mistress wasn't going to pay for a doctor to come and work on him. His fractured cheekbone appeared to be doing the same, so there was a good chance he wouldn't be permanently disfigured. As long as he still looked beautiful when he was finished healing, people would buy his time.

But he didn't want to stay here. He hadn't told anyone yet of his plans to leave, but as soon as he was able to walk again, Szayel would leave the House. There was nothing for him here. He couldn't risk that someone would realize what he was. It pained him to lie here in bed, completely vulnerable. If someone wanted to kill him, they could do so without even trying. The main reason that had kept him here had walked out the door. He had nothing to look forward to now, just the embrace of strange men whose faces he'd never see.

He wished he could forget him. He knew he wouldn't. Szayel catnapped during the day, drifting in and out of sleep, but at night, his thoughts invariably turned to Nnoitra. He contemplated what he'd tell him if he ever had the chance to see him again, but any words he could craft seemed silly. Nnoitra would just laugh at such a confession. So he'd start over again and try to come up with something dignified, as befitted the son of a formerly noble house. He wasn't some lowborn peasant. Though he was currently a whore, he wouldn't always be.

Yes, that idea appealed to him greatly. Perhaps he'd seek out Nnoitra when he was free of this place and had time to rebuild himself. When he was capable of standing strong again as himself, he would find him. Though, perhaps that wasn't a very wise idea. Nnoitra considered him a possession, or had. He wouldn't recognize his autonomy. He might end up trading one form of servitude for another. Szayel… would have to consider it. But first, he had to get out of here.

-.-.-.-.-.-

By the end of the week, he'd decided that it wasn't completely unpleasant being cooped up in bed. Even if the air of the House oppressed him, it was nice not to have to worry about pleasing someone. Everyone doted on him for a change. His spirits steadily rose, except for the times he was allowed to be alone with his thoughts for too long, and the times he needed assistance with personal hygiene. Having a plan calmed him. He hated living with uncertainty and feeling like his life was subject to the vicissitudes of fortune.

Szayel amused himself during the day with a variety of activities. He practiced instruments he wasn't as familiar with, engaged in verse competitions with the more lyrically inclined girls, and when he was alone, painted designs of inventions he imagined. The sheaf of papers Nnoitra had given him was disappearing quickly… he'd run out soon, and then he wouldn't be able to draw or put theories onto paper. The Mistress was stingy when it came to paper allotments since it was expensive. He'd have to improvise when that time came.

There was just one thing that bothered him. Grimmjow. He'd heard nothing from him yet… with any luck, he wouldn't hear anything. The man was probably dead. Though Szayel hadn't been in the frame of mind to think about it then, Grimmjow had consumed his blood against his will. It would turn to poison in his body and kill him sooner or later, depending on how much he'd taken.

Szayel was in the middle of arranging some flowers one of the girls had brought him when the news came that he had a client. He looked up, startled; he wasn't to have any clients until he was fully recovered. The woman left him in bed contemplating who it was that had insisted on visiting an injured man, but he could think of only one person who might, and that person was unlikely to come.

A minute passed. He finished arranging the flowers in their vase and held it still in his lap as he waited. He was incredibly self-conscious of how he looked; bandages covered his face and chest, though bruises peeked out from underneath them, hinting at the damage they hid. He was dressed in a plain cloth slip. His hair was undone and slightly mussed, his face free of makeup, and he hadn't bathed since the day before. Szayel looked disgraceful, but for a moment, he didn't care. For a moment, he forgot about all of it when Nnoitra stepped through the door.

Then it all came crashing down again, and his shoulders hunched as he looked away. This wasn't how he'd wanted Nnoitra to see him. He'd wanted to be strong and proud, not lowering his eyes in shame. Why was he here? Szayel couldn't give him what he wanted.

"It was a bitch convincing people to let me see you. I had to take it up with the owner of the establishment. She seemed to see the sense in accepting payment for someone who'd otherwise just be costing her money."

Obviously, he had a reason to be here. Nnoitra being Nnoitra, he'd get what he wanted. It didn't matter what condition he was in. Szayel sighed and lifted the vase of flowers, offering it to him. When Nnoitra took it, he leaned forward to grab the papers, brush, and pen he'd left sitting just a little ways to the side. The ink bottle rolled away when he shifted. The prostitute frowned and leaned further, then gasped as he put pressure on his broken leg and healing ribs. Jerking backwards, Szayel bit his lip to muffle any pained sounds that wanted to escape and tried to recover.

He felt Nnoitra place the ink jar in his lap. The mattress sank slightly as he sat on the bed. Opening his eyes, Szayel looked up at him, then back down at his papers. Then slowly, he uncorked the bottle and dipped the brush inside. If a conversation was what he wanted… Szayel wouldn't deny him. There were a few things he wanted to ask as well.

Why come at all?

"I didn't exactly get my money's worth last time," Nnoitra replied.

You're mistaken if you expect to get your money's worth this time.

"I've convinced her to give me the next visit free, seeing as I paid full price last visit for nothing."

Why pay for this visit when you knew I was still recovering?

"I was curious. I wanted to see how quickly you'd heal from what happened."

Szayel crumpled the page he was writing on and threw it at him. Nnoitra moved to the side, and the ball of paper sailed over his shoulder.

"And here I thought you wanted to see me, Szay."

Szayel flipped him off. He really didn't want to put up with him right now. And what was the worst he could do? Break his fingers?

Nnoitra caught his hand, and for a moment, Szayel wondered if he actually would. But no. He was only holding them captive so he wouldn't make any more rude gestures. Nnoitra leaned in, expression serious.

"Hey. I paid for you. Now stop being catty, or I'll treat you like a bitch. Understand?"

Szayel nodded. Nnoitra released his fingers, looking satisfied.

"Good. So, give me an account of what he fucked with."

Szayel rubbed his hand sullenly, then picked up the brush to write again.

Face beaten until one of the cheekbones fractured, pulverized flesh, various bite marks and abrasions, various shallow incisions, wrists rubbed raw from rope burn, several broken ribs, a punctured lung, which has since healed, internal bleeding, which has since stopped, a broken leg, bruising all over. Anemia probable. Healing is slow, due to the extent of the injuries.

"… fuck, he really meant to kill you."

I'm not so certain. Originally, he just wanted to ruin me for you, but once he realized I heal unusually quickly, he took it as an opportunity to take out the revenge on me that he intended for you. I don't think it mattered to him whether I lived or died.

"Fucking coward can't even face me like a man."

You would have done the same in his place.

"I would have had the balls to face me instead of hiding behind the pathetic excuse of illness," Nnoitra said.

Illness. So Grimmjow was sick, but still alive… Wonderful. What if he came back? What if he came to kill him next time? He wasn't allowed back, but he could probably handle the bouncers.

He's ill?

"Yeah. That's a fucking load of shit though. If he was healthy enough to beat you half to death, there's no way he could have come down sick the same day."

Who told you he was ill?

"Hearsay. There are some strange stories going around. All I know is that he hasn't set foot outside his family's walls since he got back. Fucker's probably too scared."

If he was still recovering, then he'd taken considerable damage. Maybe it was enough to keep him out of action for a while longer. He hoped so.

"You don't look happy about that news," Nnoitra observed. Szayel glanced up.

The only news I want to hear is news of his death.

Nnoitra seemed to approve of this.

"He's a dead man. Soon as I'm able, he's dead. I'm not going to let him get away with insulting me like that."

You'll start a war.

"They won't be able to prove it was me."

They could make the connection.

"And so what? Then we crush them, take their wealth, and sell their servants into slavery. They want war, they can deal with the consequences of spitting on our pride."

Szayel closed his eyes and hugged himself. He didn't want to think of that. It reminded him too closely of what had happened to him.

"I thought you wanted him dead."

Yes. He did. Szayel sighed and nodded. And… if Nnoitra could do that, then he wouldn't complain. Whatever else happened wasn't his problem.

"Hey." Nnoitra's voice interrupted his train of thought. "You're being strange tonight. Care to explain? If it's 'cause I disappeared for a while, I had things to take care of."

No… that wasn't it, though it was nice to know why he hadn't come. As expected, it was a perfectly ordinary reason. Responsibilities back at home.

I didn't think you'd come back, after what happened.

"What? I was just trying to catch up to Grimmjow. You weren't goin' anywhere fast."

There was no guarantee I would survive or recover.

Nnoitra leaned back and shot him a lazy look.

"Szayel, how many times do I have to say it? You're mine. Only I get to decide if or when you're no longer valuable to me. And believe me, I'll let you know."

Simple as that. Nnoitra had claimed him.

He wasn't sure what to think, only knew that his entire body tingled upon hearing that affirmation. He remembered all the speeches he'd prepared that week, how he'd rejected all of them because couldn't get the words right. He still couldn't get the words right. He was good at crafting verses and distilling emotion into poetry, but that skill eluded him now. The translation stalled as soon as he tried to give it form.

What of his plans for independence? What of approaching him as his own person instead of someone's property? He didn't know. It had all seemed so clear, that he needed to leave this place, but suddenly, he wasn't sure. He began to doubt himself again. But…

Szayel pushed himself to write. It had to come out. His hand trembled as he held the brush, poised to begin on a fresh page…

I… understand.

He couldn't do it. He still couldn't write the words. As he stared at the characters he'd written, he wondered if he ever could.

Coward. Coward coward coward.

"Good. I don't want to hear you questioning me again."

Szayel looked up and offered him a small smile.

No, he wouldn't question him again. He'd just accept.

Except… it wasn't the right thing to do. The right thing to do was defy him.

But this was easier.

But it changed nothing. The words were still there, unwritten. They still waited to be given life. And how he longed to give them life.

Nnoitra?

"Mm?"

He tried again, and failed again.

What's your family like?

"Eh… why do you want to know?"

Just curious.

"Che… well, I've got two older brothers and a younger sister. The oldest is a condescending asshole. He's first and he fucking knows it. Never fails to let you know it either. Second is lazy as all hell, but he could probably show him up if he actually wanted to. Then there's our little sister. She's a brat. Enough said. Someone needs to put her in her place, uppity little bitch. My parents are barely tolerable. Most of the vassals are morons. That satisfy your curiosity?"

You really don't get along with many people, do you?

"Fuck them. They don't like me, they can suck my dick."

Why did he care for this man? He was abrasive, abusive, violent, crude, arrogant, self absorbed-

"And you?"

…

At best, I had a strained relationship with my older brother.

"Heh. Bastards, always lookin' down on us."

I never did manage to catch up to him… not in the ways the people cared about.

"Who the fuck cares what they think?"

Szayel smiled wryly.

I ended up here, didn't I?

Nnoitra had nothing to say to that.

Perhaps if I'd been just a little better at fighting, I wouldn't have ended up here. Perhaps if I'd tried a little harder instead of accepting that it wasn't my strong point, I might have stood more of a chance. Or perhaps not. Perhaps it was always my fate. I was raised with the belief that my destiny was to serve others, and in a way, I'm fulfilling that. I am serving others, but in the basest of ways.

"I swear you're the most depressing person I know," Nnoitra finally remarked.

You're the one who started talking to me, Nnoitra. You could have easily spared yourself the sordid details of my life by taking advantage of the fact I'm mute.

"Well fuck, do you always have to start philosophizing on me? I get enough of that shit from my oldest brother."

Then what do you want to talk about?

"Who says I wanna talk?"

There… isn't much else I can do with you.

"Yeah, I know you're a cripple right now. But you can do other things, right?"

Well… yes, but you don't seem like the type who is appreciative of the fine arts.

"If you mean poetry and tea and flower arranging, then no."

Hm…

"Don't you know anything less… feminine?"

Some samurai you are. But fortunately for you, yes.

"I can do all that too, but that doesn't mean I have to enjoy it."

Haha, and believe me, the image of you doing any of them is quite amusing. I'm surprised you had the patience to learn.

"Tch. You're supposed to be naming an activity, remember?"

Szayel smiled again. It was still small, but this time, it was genuine.

Of course. Have you ever played Shogi, Nnoitra?

A/N: That's right Nnoitra. Shut him up. We're as tired of his emo, bitchy philosophizing as you are.

Ahem. And thus concludes chapter 14. Thoughts? Feelings? Well, it's a fluffy chapter. And uh… yeah. No sex. I'm sure you're all thrilled by that. Shogi is sort of like the Japanese version of chess, but I couldn't be bothered to research the rules because I'm on NaNoWriMo time damnit, and I can't afford to slow down and do that or I will lose my muse. So I generalized. A lot. Also, Kaname….. you cheating cheater. Dear god he's turning into a troll in this story. He's not supposed to be a troll 8C Wrrrrrryyyyy?

Anyways, things are about to speed up, folks. We're heading towards a singularity where the past is about to catch up to the present, and shit will go down.

Or maybe it won't. I'm still debating whether or not I want to drop a certain character on you all. We'll see. I apologize for nothing. (Wheeeee isn't it exciting when the author doesn't even know what's going to happen next?)

R&R loves. I'll see you in the next update.