Remember last chapter when I said that it probably wouldn't take me as long as a month for this chapter? Well...I'm sorry. Real life just keeps getting in the way. Not only that, but my computer got a few viruses, so I had to get those fixed. All in all, I really want to say that I hope I can be forgiven.

On the story related topic, I'm sorry that this story doesn't have a lot of action and that it's not really that well-written. It was hard for me to figure out completely how this chapter would turn out. Hopefully, it will be adequate.

As per usual, I don't own Bleach nor Splatterhouse

Phase 7: The Ones Under Your Skin

That night, I was sitting in my room in front of my desk. Sitting in front of me on the desk was a thin, blank journal, or at least it started out that way, until I began writing. I had been writing for God knows how long, but it was a great stress reliever, especially after the training I went through.

I never considered myself as an author, but I always kept a log of any of my findings. Even whenever I traveled to other countries for archaeological expeditions, I always kept a journal handy. Then, whenever I got a chance, I would write about my surroundings, my colleagues, and even my discoveries. Though I wasn't at a dig site, the fact that I was at a new place contributed enough reason to write. Considering that I managed to find the blank journal and a set of pencils in one of the desk's drawers, all the better.

As I wrote, I flashed back to just before I left Harribel and her Fracción. I had explained to them about how I came to find Montezuma. However, unlike with Aizen, I didn't bother sparing any detail.

I told them everything, including the fact that Montezuma was actually a living being behind my powers. Harribel, Mila-Rose and Sung-Sun took the story in silence, whereas Apacci, after I finished explaining, said bluntly that it was the dumbest thing she had ever heard.

"Most people nowadays would think the same about monsters that ate people's souls, and yet here you are," I replied. She only scowled, which told me that I won that debate.

I was brought back to the present when Montezuma sighed heavily. He didn't have to say anything for me to know that he was already bored.

"C'mon, Johnny. Isn't there anything we can do for fun?" he whined.

I let out a sigh of my own as I told him, "Look, we can't just go around looking for something to kill. Besides, we have another training session with Harribel tomorrow."

"But it's no fun that way," Montezuma retorted. "I want to see blood run down your arm while someone dies slowly and painfully. With training, well, it's not quite the same."

I couldn't say anything. There wasn't anything that could be said to argue with him. I never would've guessed that a powerful Aztec artifact, one that could've led to Cortez's demise, would have the stubbornness of a five-year-old.

"My, my," I heard someone say. It could almost feel the condescension in his tone as he continued, "Having arguments with ourselves, are we?"

Please, don't be him. Please, don't be him, I prayed silently. I knew that tone anywhere. I slowly turned around, and in the middle of my doorway, there stood the all-too familiar pink-haired Arrancar, his ever-present grin on his face.

I sighed as I asked in an intimidating tone, "What do you want, Szayel Aporro?" I didn't want anything to do with this guy, but somehow, I knew that a simple 'Get out' wouldn't be enough.

Szayel only shook his head, the smirk still on his face, as he replied, "And here I thought we could start over and get on the right foot. I didn't think you would actually hold the hospitality of a caveman."

I sighed before saying accusingly, "Forgive me. I'm not used to acting friendly to anyone who tries to kill me as soon as he meets me."

The Eighth Espada nodded and said, "Well, that's understandable but primitive human logic. Also, I'm aware of your former profession."

I raised an eyebrow at that. Was he listening in when I explained my background to Aizen, or to Harribel? "Where did you hear that?" I asked, suspicious.

Szayel Aporro chuckled, brushing a pink bang out of his face, as he said, "Do you remember my now dead Fracción, Medazeppi?"

I nodded, still a little curious as to what he was talking about. "Sorry for your loss," I apologized sarcastically.

"It hurts, but I'll manage," Szayel responded, his tone more casual than mourning. He then went on to explain, "Well, I slipped a certain invention of mine onto his body, which I call Sprit Recording Bugs. When you killed Medazeppi, my spirit bugs flocked to you and recorded every movement and conversation you had, hence the reason why I know what you were back in the World of the Living."

"Disgusting," I heard Montezuma hiss out. I silently agreed with him; I wasn't sure whether it was the mention of the both of us getting coated in invisible bugs, insect or machine, or the fact that he was eavesdropping on me—and possibly Montezuma, if Szayel's invention was powerful enough—in any conversation I was having.

"Anyway," Szayel continued. "From what I've heard, we both share more in common than you think."

As I turned back toward my journal and continued writing—I didn't want to even look at his smug face anymore—I asked him while looking at the journal, "Care to explain how?"

I felt Szayel Aporro smirk as he explained, "We're both curious men, Jonathan. If something interests us, we both try our best to understand it. Our professions are different, but, in essence, we could both qualify as scientists."

My hand tightened around the pencil I was holding, and I thought that I heard a few of its fibers breaking under my grip. Still, I kept calm and, still looking at my journal, debated, "While you may be right about what kind of people we are, what we really do is completely different. Being an archaeologist, my job involves taking me to places of historical interest. I study what kind of people lived there, what they may have done, and how they lived their lives.

"Your job, on the other hand," I added, turning my head slightly to look at him out of the corner of my eye, "involves twisted medicine, engineering, or a sick combination of both. Essentially, you'd be the kind of guy who would turn a human being into a weapon, and for all I know, you may have already done that."

Szayel chuckled, probably at my last comment, and said, "You're smarter than you let on, Jonathan. And here I thought that humans were only thoughtless peons who only solved their problems with violence." I felt a slight tug of irritation pull at my stomach as he continued, "But still, aren't our jobs both a kind of science? You study a science of the past, while I work on a science of the future."

I heard his footsteps grow closer as he finished, "You can play it off as whatever you please, but even you know it full-well." He put his hand on my shoulder as he finished menacingly, "We're the same."

Before I could say anything, his hand disappeared from my shoulder, as did his presence from my room. While I sat in front of the desk, something was bubbling over in my gut, and I had the feeling that it wasn't acid reflux. I felt myself panting, no, hyperventilating, as a slight tinge of red clouded my eyesight. Suddenly, I just let out a shriek of rage as I stood up, pushing my chair away, and threw a large fist down on the table, almost completely breaking it in half.

I just stood there, panting and looking at the wreckage, before I heard Montezuma tell me, "Calm down, buddy."

I was too furious and annoyed to think rationally as I shouted, "Calm down?! You get off to gruesome murders and torture, and you're telling me to calm down!?"

"You're just proving his point," he fired back, annoyed anger filling his voice. I froze, most of my rage subsiding, as he continued, "If you go on a rampage, that's almost the same as him winning. Do you really want him to have the satisfaction?"

I had to admit it; the mask had a point. I could just imagine him at that time, watching me from a computer screen with that same damn smirk on his face, thinking to himself about how he was right about me being just a muscle-bound thoughtless brute. I let out a sigh as I flumped down on the couch, running my fingers through my hair, and stayed quiet for what felt like hours.

What should I do? I projected to Montezuma after a while. I really want that guy gone, but…I'm not sure if I can do anything.

"Oh, boy," I heard Montezuma whine. He then started with a stern tone, "Okay, so he cut your arm off—which, need I remind you, grew back, by the way—and knocked you unconscious. I get it; that would shake someone up the first time, but think for a second. Compared to the John at that time and you now, what's different?"

I thought for a second. The only answer I could come up with was my first training session between Harribel's Fracción and me. Come to think of it, I felt a little more adept in that few hours of training that I was when I just blindly tried to attack Szayel Aporro right before he knocked me out.

Montezuma, ever the scanner of my mind, made a noise that sounded like a prize bell ringing and said, "Exactly. By my guess, the Espada are aligned from one through ten in order of strength. If that pinkie is the Eighth, then the odds of the four chicks you're training with being stronger than that guy are pretty high. If you keep working with them for a while, then maybe, just maybe, you'll be strong enough to get Pinkie off your ass."

I soaked in what Montezuma said and nodded subtly. It seemed a little unusual that he seemed to give this kind of advice; especially considering that it didn't involve anything related to rushing rivers of blood or dismembered human limbs. Still, I was kind of relieved to at least have an answer.

"Plus," Montezuma started again. "You're not the only one who wants to pull his spine out and use it like a bullwhip." There it was; the same old, bloodthirsty Aztec mask.

You know, I started, smirking inwardly. For a second there, I thought you were getting soft on me.

Montezuma chuckled and asked, "Do you even know me?" I laughed a little along with him. It may not hsave been much, but that was pretty much the first time I laughed since I arrived in Hueco Mundo.

"Now shut up and get some sleep," Montezuma chastised jokingly. "You got another day of training with the girls tomorrow, so you'll need your energy, unless of course you want to fall asleep on your feet and find your head chopped off."

I sighed, this one more content than agitated or worried, as I laid back along the couch and put my hands behind my head. I had no idea how tired I actually was, until I shut my eyes and fell asleep almost instantly.

And there we are. Next Chapter is another training session, only this time, John's going to have to learn how to dodge a Cero. Who knows?Maybe the stakes will be even higher