This story takes place after an alternate version of Uryu's and Renji's battle with Szayel in Hueco Mundo. Not everything about the world is revealed at the beginning of this story, and will instead be explored in later chapters. While the main characters in this story are Uryu Ishida and Szayel Granz, this story will feature various other background characters. This story will be told with "acts" for chapters and with "scenes" separating smaller parts in each chapter; each chapter will be approximately half an act.
Warnings: Chapters will include depictions of physical and sexual violence.
"Under Normal Conditions"
Act 1
1.1
A stifled cry interrupted his deep sleep. Under him was a cold material, not unlike concrete in its unforgiving nature, but he knew it wasn't concrete. It was something with the ability to suck all heat from his frozen form. His reiatsu was also dissipating, but not into the air as if fired from an arrow; it was swallowed into the surface below him, and he feared deeply that his physical form would also be swallowed. Straps pushed into his skin and forced his continual contact with the cold material. His feet were asleep, probably due to the tightness of the bands. The cry became more urgent, causing his brain to refocus. With more effort than thought necessary, he tried to open his eyes. The tearing sensation this action caused didn't deter him. Instead, he was edged on by the resistance. If his eyes weren't supposed to be open, that was just too damn bad. Another stifled cry gave him the final push.
Once open, he was blinded by the sterile lights above. Squinting against the sharp light provided him no comfort. He made an attempt at looking to the left, but the binds stopped his head from moving. Resorting to only eye movements, he looked left. A large computer spat more light at him, but this source was more bearable than the last. There were words floating across the screen, but, without his glasses, he couldn't make out a single one. Giving up on reading, he glanced to the right. A splay of red dominated his vision; long, red hair spilling off the dissection table. A pang resounded in his gut, but the reason why wasn't very clear. Looking slightly down gave him the answer. The man's body was sliced open from collar to pubic bone, and held open by surgical clips. A sharp cry caused his attempt to jolt up. Every instinct told him to fight, to assist, to save. The bindings laughed at his actions, holding him in place as he struggled.
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," A man snickered, causing his eyes to search the area he could actually see, "don't strain yourself, Quincy. There's nothing you can do with your reiatsu suppressed, so just be a good little Quincy and wait until it's your turn." First, he saw Ryuken; he was leaning over his mother's open form, taking what she had left to give. The shock of pink hair brought him back to the present. A toothy smile adorned Szayel's blood speckled face. "You might want to settle down, you'll give yourself a heart attack." As if the words on cue, Uryu's ears finally tuned into the sound of quick beeping behind him. He was familiar enough with hospitals to understand the heart monitor echoing his fears and anxieties.
"Kid," a gritted voice snapped his eyes back to the spill of red. Of course, the red had a face and that tattooed vision was looking very pointedly at Uryu. "Don't let this bastard get a rise out of you. I'm fi-," another muffled cry echoed in his ears, this time clearly from Renji. Looking down his naked, open body, Uryu could understand why. Szayel had stabbed into a bunching of muscle in his calf.
Szayel sneered as he pulled the long scissors out, "don't play the hero. It's not a good look on you and he doesn't believe it anyway." A glance was thrown at Uryu, a golden haze staring him down, in something of a challenge. Had Uryu's mouth not been bound, he would have spit a comment back. Instead of intelligible ridicule, a muffled growl rang out. Szayel laughed and walked around where Renji was bound. He moved deliberately slow towards where Uryu was trapped, blood covered scissors still in hand. It was only then that Uryu realized he wasn't bound lying down, like Renji. He was tipped back slightly further than ninety degrees. The bindings had been so tight that he felt as if he were lying on his back, but Szayel's face in front of his corrected his minds error.
The bloody scissors came back into his vision and, for a moment, Uryu was almost certain that he would be losing an eye for his muffled retort, but the jab never came. Szayel instead grabbed a piece of his hair, lifted the scissors, and cut it at the root. Uryu was fully aware at how the heart monitors already fast beat quickened. While he could control what his face and mouth projected, and kept a cold, unfeeling exterior, he couldn't trick the machine. Something told him Szayel was aiming to give him more than a haircut, but his motives were still unclear. With a sinister chop, another piece fell to the floor. He kept cutting until the only long pieces were in the back. "I'm going to put you back under for about an hour or two now that I know how much anesthesia you can take. I wanted to avoid an overdose earlier, considering you're not as replaceable as some of my other specimens," Szayel sighed in annoyance as he crossed out of Uryu's line of sight. After a brief moment, he was back with a syringe of toxic-looking goo, "of course I'd prefer for you to be awake for the procedure, but a human would likely go into shock: Quincy or not." Without further explanation, he punctured Uryu's arm and injected him with the hot liquid.
1.2
Incessant pounding; something scratching in his head and wearing on his nerves. If there ever was a time for civility and patience, it certainly wasn't now. His head hurt; well, more specifically, his brain hurt. He had never felt such a thing, but he was entirely certain that something, someone, was digging around in there. To say the least, he didn't enjoy the sensation. Without hesitation, his eyelids snapped open. He was now seated facing a large white wall; no nicks or scratches adorned the wall, no human imperfections maring it. The chair he was in had a high back that kept his head from moving. Yet again, he was bound with no hope of escaping his bindings. Trying to make a further visual observation, he glanced side to side, but the only things there were more white walls.
"Finally awake? I swear you enjoy wasting my time… Next time, I'm giving you less anesthetic. Who cares if you wake up in the middle." The voice came from behind him, sending chills down his spine. The question of Renji's location was shoved somewhere he didn't find himself looking. Instead, he was focused on the animalistic fear circulating his blood. "We're going to watch some home movies today, isn't that exciting? You should feel lucky, you're the first one to test out this new project. Or, should I say, projector?" He cackled loudly, the sharp noise quickly filling the space and raising goosebumps on his arms.
Another revelation quickly hit him, like a hard fist in the gut. He was completely naked, had probably been since Szayel knocked him out the first time. While this raised questions, Uryu wasn't as bothered by it as he felt he should be. His glasses also seemed to be missing, but his vision was the same as when they were on-it was possibly better. The Espada must have done something to his vision, but this also seemed unimportant. Rather than feeling concerned about these issues, he was more hung up on why he wasn't bothered. But then again, when you are being held captive by a mad scientist, should one really remain hung up on odd details? He should remain focused on the problem at hand. A light suddenly shone onto the wall in front of him, pulling Uryu out of his head. His eyes grew large, his heartbeat quickened.
On the wall, not even five feet in front of him, was a projection of his mom. She was smiling, a shining ray of light directed at him, but not him now. No, this smile was for a much younger him. A him that she was alive to see. If he had been able to comprehend any of it, he might have realized the stream of tears rushing down his face. Still, even if he had noticed it then, he wouldn't have been able to stop them. She was too much: too bright, too brilliant, too beautiful. And she was here somehow; or maybe he was there, back at six years old. He felt his own eyes pan over to Ryuuken, stoic and still. He was seated on a park bench; they were playing in the leaves. Suddenly, Ryuuken smiled and stood. He quickly came over to them and picked up Uryu, lifting him above his head quickly and somewhat recklessly. Laughter bubbled into his ears, causing Uryu to flinch in his chair. This wasn't real; or not so much not real as not the present. He wasn't there right now. He was in a chair, being operated by a sadistic puppet master. "Stop it," he ground out, now fully aware of the river running over his face.
The projection didn't stop. It showed him more happy memories of playing in the snow and rain and sun. It showed baking and gardening and sewing. It showed so many things that Uryu himself had not remembered. More happy times than he had counted. Of course, this happiness didn't last long; it never did. The happy memories shifted to one of his worst. He hid behind the cracked door, looking intently into his parents' bedroom. Ryuken was yelling again. Some things about work, some about money, some about family (but whether that meant Uryu and Katagiri or Ryuken's parents was anybody's guess). This was the first fight he had witnessed. Katagiri was in, what Uryu soon learned to be, her usual position, sitting on the edge of the bed, crying, with no effort to cover or explain her tears. She just sat and cried. Ryuken, on the other hand, paced back and forth; he screamed and shook his hands until he locked himself in the bathroom connected to their room, probably in order to refrain from physically hurting her. What he didn't realize was that the emotional pain was worse than any physical pain he could inflict on her.
Uryu's stomach hurt. He remembered it hurting then, too. While he was young, he was not foolish enough to think that this behavior was to be expected between married couples. He felt the need to go back and step in; preferably, he would shoot Ryuken full of holes until he finally apologized. Uryu scoffed, even at his current power level, there wasn't a chance in hell that he could cause Ryuken physical or emotional pain of any kind. There was an intrigued hum from behind him, "why did you scoff? This memory is painful, correct?"
While he knew his responses should be filtered, he couldn't bite his tongue. It was a kind of revenge on his past self; the self that did nothing to prevent Katagiri's beratement. "I didn't do anything for her and yet I blame him completely. Seeing it makes my faults clear." There was a hum akin to approval and the projection continued. Some memories were happy, but they started melding into a stream of fights, bullies, heightened tempers, loneliness, and finally death.
It was June. There was no way to tell this from the information shown of the projector, but Uryu could recognize the scene that would soon play out. It was summer and he had begged Katagiri to take him out. The sun had gone down a little bit ago and it was cool and pleasant. Uryu had taken her hand with the promise of escorting her home. Things hadn't been great lately; in the brief moments Ryuken returned home, the only thing he did was fight. Katagiri, of course, didn't blame him, because, Uryu guessed, she could never find him at fault. Without warning, her hand ripped from his, causing him to feel her crash to the ground beside him. His heart was in his ears. At nine, he had less medical knowledge than Ryuken thought he should have. With shaking hands, he pushed her body and started screaming nonsense dictated by fear. That brief moment of panic had felt like years, but, watching the taps, it was clear that Ryuken arrived within the minute of her falling unconscious. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, urgency overpowering care, and grabbed Uryu with his other hand. A blinding flash got them to their destination; of course, Uryu could now recognize this as hirenkyaku.
Months spent in the hospital, crying over her, overwhelming loneliness, and the complete absence of Ryuken. The only good thing that happened during those three months was the meeting of his grandfather. He was the only one to comfort Uryu from the second month of her comma to the day she passed. The monitor flatlining brought Uryu's attention back to reality. His hands were in shaking fists and his teeth were clenched tightly. Tears didn't show any signs of stopping or even of slowing, this time due to sadness rather than unidentifiable emotion. "Why are you doing this," slipped past his defenses. The man behind remained silent, or maybe he wasn't even there anymore. Either way, the question remained in the air; something he couldn't take back. Of course, this wasn't the end. There was the brutal dissection of Katagiri, the gruesome murder of Souken, and even just general teenage angst to be covered, and Szayel didn't show him any mercy.
1.3
It was unclear when the torment ended and where blissful rest began; all Uryu knew was that he was awake now. He opened his eyes slowly, expecting the bright lights to overwhelm him. The utter darkness he encountered was a shock, to say the least. With a few more blinks, Uryu confirmed his first assessment; the room was pitch black to the point that no shapes could be made out. He sat up quickly, feeling the top of his head in a moment of remembrance. It had felt like a dream, but the smoothness he felt proved it as reality. The panic began to rise in his chest as his breathing quickened. This was bad. They had lost to a mad scientist who would now use them as his playthings. He was probably just in this room until Szayel had time for another experiment. And what about the others? Did different Espada keep them as trophies? Or were they already dead?
No, stop. He cut the thought off before he could think too heavily on it. They had to be alive and well, or, at least, well enough. They would win and come back for him. Or they would at least save Orihime, which was the most important thing. For now, he would have to look after himself; this wasn't so new. It would only be a couple of weeks, a month at most. He'd either escape on his own or be begrudgingly rescued by Ichigo. All he had to do was survive and keep his eyes open for opportunities. And he'd have to find Renji, but that couldn't be too hard since the Shinigami was never good at hiding his reiatsu. He took a second to reach out in his mind, looking for any sign of another living creature, but nothing came up. Szayel was most likely preventing his powers with this box.
After a few hours of thinking of worst case scenarios, Uryu found himself out of things to think about. He'd always been alone, so this really shouldn't be so hard. But, when he was alone, he always had a book or a sewing kit or even just the ability to seek out human contact. This darkness, this emptiness, was unlike any loneliness he'd felt. During this day of thinking about things he could do outside of the box, metal screeching together alerted him to a small source of sudden light. A tray was pushed through the hole, and then the slit was closed. Due to sheer boredom, he found himself feeling his way to where he thought the tray would be. With the small light source gone, it was impossible to see the thing. When his hands found a cup, he was surprised. His capture provided him with a cup of water, a sandwich, and an apple. At that moment, he didn't know if he was hungry or bored, but he ate the offered food without even considering that it could be a trap of some kind. Nothing happened and he wished he took more time to saver the meal. Eventually, the only thing to do was sleep. This process of thinking until he couldn't think of anything to think about, eating, urinating and defecating in a toilet he'd thankfully found in the corner, and sleeping on the unforgiving floor, only lasted a few days. Then a depressive period hit.
He found himself sitting in the corner, curled in on himself. The thought stream flowing through his head was entirely negative. His friends weren't coming to save him, if any of them were even his friends. They probably hated him. This was their way of getting rid of him, it was all so obvious. Ryuken definitely had something to do with it; maybe this whole box thing was his idea. There was no way to escape. This was where he would stay until death. This train of thought didn't last long, though. A couple of days later, he got out of his head through any sort of physicality. The idea of spending one more minute crawling around made him the idiot. Instead, he was walking in circles, keeping one hand on the wall in order to avoid a collision. He considered doing more intensive exercise, but, considering the one meal a day he was given, anything more intensive seemed foolish. He was also only given two cups of water, which he had estimated, in his thinking period, to be about 12 ounces each. Szayel seemed to understand that humans needed food and water, but the amount he was giving was incorrect. But there was no way Uryu was going to ask for anymore.
After five more days, he found himself punching walls with the blurred image of Szayel, Ryuken, and even Ichigo in mind. It was a better physical release than walking, but his hands were always bleeding and he was in a constant state of exhaustion. His mind wasn't working, hadn't been working for months now. Or minutes. It was hard for him to tell at this point; there was no way of counting other than memory, and that wasn't serving him well lately. The good thing is that his eyes finally adjusted, so he could see the blurry outline of the toilet shoved in the corner, and the nothing else that was with him. "Fuck," the wall bit back, but he lost track of the feeling once hearing his own voice. It had been forever since he heard anyone talk and he could've sworn it was someone else. In a second, the thought was gone and he found himself laying down on the floor to try and sleep some of the thoughts away.
Five more days and his fists weren't the only things bleeding. With his eyes adjusted to this level, he could see the way his skin came up under his uncut nails, but he couldn't bring himself to so much as feel the pain. The only thing that distracted him from the incessant scratching was the sound of metal scraping together: his food and water. There was no way to wash his hands and, while this had bothered him during his thinking period, he now found himself eating the food while his hands were wet with blood. When he woke up-had he gone to sleep-the blood was dry on his hands, but this didn't matter. He just reopened anything that healed and created new patches of torn up skin. His ears perked at the sound of metal, the opening scritch, the beginnings of soft light. "Hey!" His voice came out without him realizing, or maybe it was by choice in the moment and then suddenly forgotten, "what is this about? Can't you just-" The food was pushed in and the slot was closed. For a moment he was silent, but that moment was short. With a booming clang, he threw the tray-the food, the water-at the door, "FUCK OFF!" His head was spinning, his own words echoing in his head-but, then again, who else's words would be in his head? The realization that he had wasted his days' supply of water hit him like a ton of bricks and he fell to the floor loudly weeping. There was no censorship in his thoughts, so none came to mind.
In a few days, the bursts of anger stopped. In fact, everything stopped. He found himself-or couldn't find himself-back in the corner he'd found in his first depressive period. Of course, the reprise of his depression was a total showstopper. He didn't think, talk, stand, sleep, eat, or drink for three days. Eventually, everything stopped.
1.4
The monitor, to which he'd been glued for a consecutive 172 hours, showed the same picture it'd shown for the past 70 hours. Had he not had such a critical eye, he would've thought the screen was frozen. Until Uryu fell, of course, which was something that had been expected approximately 170 hours ago. With a sharp command, Lumina and Verona scurried to the room Uryu had been kept in for the last twenty-three days. While they got him, Szayel stood and stretched. While he was not human, his body still didn't enjoy that much stillness. He would also have to replenish soon. The subject had just been too interesting within those last 172 hours to step away from the monitor for even a second. The two came bumbling back in, the boy lifted above their heads. He was considerably thinner, paler, and just plain closer to death than he'd been before. That was good, though, considering he only should've lasted a few days.
The two fraccions placed Uryu on the dissection table. Szayel grabbed the saline IV and perfectly inserted the needle into Uryu's arm. He then put a nasogastric tube through his nose to get any sort of food into his empty stomach. This was all that seemed necessary but, after seeing his arms, Szayel thought it best to treat those as well. Taking the same machine he'd used on Uryu's head to speed the reformation of skin, Szayel fixed his torn up arms. Just to give them both some peaceful days, Szayel decided to induce a coma with a variation of his previous anesthetic; it should knock him out for a few days. Giving Lumina and Verona the responsibility of doing some general cleaning of his body, Szayel went back to the oversized monitor.
His books of notes covered everything that had happened during the past twenty-three days, but he had never been a man to half-ass his work. Fast forwarding through the tapes the second time through, he checked every note made and continued adding new things spotted and creating new theories. Though embarrassingly wrong, he'd thought the subject would only last three days before having a major breakdown. Instead, he just dipped a little. It took ten days for him to start causing himself any sort of physical pain, and five more days until he inflicted that pain directly onto himself. At twenty days, he officially gave up and opted for death. That was the official end to the mental side of the experiment, but it had been a good idea to wait out the physical side too. A human might've died, not that he was not human, but he had something in him, maybe it was that damn Quincy side of his, that pushed him to live longer than he should've.
Sorting through past files, he found what he'd been looking for. Out of the twelve humans who participated in this experiment, Uryu had lasted the longest by a longshot. The person who survived for the second longest only lasted eight days, having stopped eating and drinking day four. It was impressive, the time he'd lasted. Szayel found himself sparing a glance in the Quincy's direction. He was a piece of art: bones jutting out, skin paler than paper, tubes elongating his features… Szayel felt a weird surge in his body, the same surge that made him save the boy from death. Pushing it aside, he took more notes on the experiment's success.
1.5
With a jolt, he sat up; a head rush being enough to lean his head into his hands. That made the tubes obvious. They encircled his body like venomous snakes, piercing his skin with a vengeance. Without a thought to what may happen, Uryu started ripping the tubes out. Running on pure adrenaline gave him a strange ability to not feel anything as he finished ripping out the tubes. The fresh blood running down his arms was warm, a nice contrast to the freezing temperature of the lab. Throwing his legs over the table, he made as if to stand, but quickly crashed to the ground. The unceremonious thud must have been alarming because, when he regained consciousness, he was met with Szayel's shoes. "What is this about? I go through all this trouble of patching you up just so that you," he squatted down and made eye contact with Uryu, "can pathetically knock yourself unconscious? Really, I should keep a running count of the number of times you pass out, it's getting ridiculous." The feeling in his body started to return and he started slowly rising to his hands and knees, Szayel still squatting in front of him. "You woke up a bit early, you should still be sedated. Fighting that groggy feeling will just land you face down on the floor again." Uryu, now successfully balanced on his knees, glared daggers into the Espada. Szayel placed a hand over his heart, the other one coming to fake dab at his eyes, "and here I took time out of my busy schedule to save your life and even put your arms back together."
"Go to hell," Uryu ground out, trying again at standing. Szayel frowned, standing before Uryu could fully straighten up. Once Uryu was up, though, he took some time to properly rest against the dissection table. When he felt balanced, he moved away from the table and started walking. Szayel, somewhat confused and extremely intrigued by his specimens behavior, had no choice but to follow him. Without warning, Uryu turned on his heels to face the Espada, "where is he?"
Szayel raised an eyebrow, "where is who? And where are you going?" Uryu scoffed and turned away again. He walked a little bit faster, but his steps were unsure and sometimes he swayed a bit. It made Szayel want to laugh, but he repressed the urge and settled for watching his subject flutter around the lab, dodging in and out of doors.
Again, he stopped in his tracks and turned on his heels, "where did you put him? This lab is large, but I'll find him eventually with or without your help." Uryu's teeth were clenched, his arms tensed at his sides. Unlike a normal human, who's hand would be closed in a tight fist, his was flexed open, ready to grab his bow. Without his cross, Szayel doubted he'd be able to properly manifest a bow. And, with him being this weak, using any power seemed out of the question.
Szayel, again suppressing a laugh, tried to be rational with him, "you have to tell me what you mean. I'm not a mind reader."
Uryu glared again, not that he ever actually stopped, "Abarai. Renji Abarai-where did you put him? Is he in a place similar to mine? Or did you give him his own little slice of hell?"
The way he searched the ceiling for answers made Uryu's glare intensify. Szayel, surprisingly enough, wasn't acting forgetful; he'd genuinely forgotten that he took in that Shinigami along with the Quincy. It was just that the Quincy was so interesting and new and the Shinigami… wasn't. Finally, he located the man in his memory, "well, if Lumina and Verona have been taking proper care of the specimens, then he should still be here. But I'm not promising anything. I haven't checked in on him since the beginning of your experiment." Suddenly, Szayel grabbed Uryu around the waist and used Sonido to quickly take them to where Renji might be. Uryu felt sick. They were standing in front of a wall, which made him glare. Szayel smirked. With too much flair, Szayel clicked in an invisible pin and opened the now apparent door, revealing the contents of the room.
Uryu stopped breathing. Renji lied on the dissection table, body pulled open, the same he'd been so many days ago. He had to be dead, Uryu thought again and again, but Renji's labored breathing proved otherwise. Szayel quickly stepped into the room, causing Renji's breath to quicken at the sight of him. "So they managed to keep you alive? That seems more like a waste of resources than anything… I am terribly sorry for my absence, I completely forgot you were even here. But I suppose I should take responsibility for you now. Let's see, what can we do with you…"
Slowly, Uryu came to Renji's side. The binds around his wrists had turned his hands a discolored blue: they blistered and smelled of death. Uryu took a hand into his, quickly dismissing any thought of the hand being foul or disgusting. Renji's eyes met his and then looked deliberately behind him. Attempting to avoid attention, Uryu slowly looked a little behind him to a cart with a splay of tools on top of it. A small, sharp scalpel drew his eye immediately.
Uryu had never paid much attention to medical classes, or any class that focused on the human body. Having witnessed the dissection of his mother left a bad taste in his mouth which still lingered. He only knew the basics of first aid and how to make himself not immediately bleed out if attacked by a Hollow. Seeing the body open like this, though, showed him just how clueless he really was. However, he did understand something very simple; cutting through veins and arteries was bound to quickly end Renji's life. Uryu looked back at him, just to make sure he understood right. Unlike Ichigo, Uryu did not believe that everyone could be saved. Unlike Orihime, Uryu did not have faith in things getting better. Unlike Chad, Uryu was not above ending someone's life. Renji pleaded for Uryu to end things and Uryu understood this need. Szayel was too caught up in his thoughts to notice the subtle transaction between the two.
He grabbed the scalpel and, in one swift motion with more power than he had, sliced. Uryu quickly cut up the inside of Renji's chest, not even flinching at the blood that squirted out. His arm was suddenly twisted back, fingers gripping him tight enough to bruise. He was thrown back, causing a Szayel sized space between him and Renji. The Espada reached into Renji's chest and pulled out the man's heart, displaying it to Uryu. He then bit into it, causing Uryu to stumble back more. Szayel finished his snack in a few bites, not bothering to wipe his mouth after.
"Kid," a raspy voice called his attention back to Renji. The man had a soft grin on his face, "thanks." Within seconds, his breathing finally stopped. Uryu couldn't find the pain he knew would later arise in his arm, nor could he find the fear he should have of the Espada in front of him. All he could feel was the blood cooling on his skin and all he could see was the dead Shinigami he'd fought beside. Abarai was a lot of things, but he wasn't a bad man. And someone as decent as him didn't deserve something as horrible as this; something this dark and painful; something that made him opt for suicide.
"Quincy," the Espada hissed, refocusing his thoughts, "what gives you the right to waste my research specimens? His death was not your call." Fight or flight surged in his mind, but, right now, he was in a position to do neither. If his actions cost him his life, though, it would have been worth it. Szayel's fuse seemed short, a harsh scowl taking up the majority of his face. He seemed to absorb the panic, completely dominating the room, "now that we're running short of lab rats, you'll have to take up double duty. How would you like to spend a month in the box?" Uryu could feel himself start to shake. He'd rather die a gruesome death than go back to the box; anything was better than that hell. Szayel seemed to understand this, a sharp smirk suddenly replacing the scowl, "of course, if you'd be a little cooperative, we could commence another experiment. One in which you'd be able to use your powers. How does that sound?"
He didn't want to help the Espada. The monster who was responsible for the loss of Renji's life, the monster who had locked him in a dark box for what felt like an eternity, shouldn't be helped in any form. Szayel looked down on him, the ultimatum sinking in. There was nothing worse than the box, "I'll do it."