Authors note: I got very bored, very fast, so I have decided that I will update this fic. Awesome, huh? Also, people who are sensitive to things such as morgues and their implications, may or may not want to read this.
Disclaimer: Szayel...what I would give to have you tied up and shoved in my baseme- I mean, uhm...nevermind. I don't own anything!
Observation is key;
Chapter two: Fascination.
All right. So I lied a little.
Perhaps Ilforte's death wasn't quite as trivial as I had thought. No, it certainly wasn't, after all, it was I who stated that it was unusual for Hollow and the like to become sickly. I considered this with more concentration then I should have as I sat at my desk, distractedly clicking away at the keys on my computer panel. Leaning back into my large, and plush computer chair – white, of course. I sighed in irritation; this was not supposed to happen.
Ilforte was not supposed to die and I was not supposed to get so distracted by it. I had been given an important task to do and my conquest to please Aizen-sama has so far proven utterly fruitless. I frown slightly in distaste, swivelling in my chair once again to face the screen in renewed determination. I typed quickly, simple codes that I needed, basic mathematics. I needed to work out the scale in which I would need to build the barrier effectively. Of course, at this point it would be a rough estimation given my current working hypothesis.
As I have said before, kidou is simply solidified reiastsu, and since Shinigami appear to have the innate ability to form, and thus mould reiatsu to their will, it is only natural that they develop some way to somehow break it down. Now, they have managed it, but it is certainly most crude when put into comparison with my own methods. Silly chanting. It only damages the spirit particles and they are quickly rendered useless when they have been broken down. I, on the other hand, revert spirit particles into their former state, never losing an ounce of their usefulness to me. Of course, that brings me to my next point...
I click away at the screen, watching as various screens pop up. Since Shinigami can break completely solidified reiatsu with little fuss, I thought that perhaps, while I cannot completely stop their entry into Hueco Mundo with this barrier, I could at least stall for a significant amount of time. I think that by partially solidifying the reiatsu, I can deter the Shinigami enough so that they find it difficult to find the weak points in the structure – simply because the spirit particles will be moving at a constant rate, as particles tend to do. But, having said that, it leaves us with the problem of the spirit particles escaping into Hueco Mundo's atmosphere. Of course, I will come to that particular problem when the time comes.
I stop, my fingers lingering over the key's of my control panel as I sigh. It is unbearably frustrating to know that I have had three days and nothing but theory to show for it. I tap a familiar sequence of digits into my computer, waiting patiently for a number of familiar windows to open. My eyes lingered on a particular window, the entrance to my tower was left uninhabited as usual. I briefly scanned the others, even the panel of the area at my seat of the meeting hall, where I had hidden a small camera underneath my place at the table during one of my first expeditions there. While I never got much out of that particular camera in terms of useful information, I always got a particularly flattering view of Nnoitra's more...flattering attributes. Of course his face was good too. But other than that, I got nothing more then Wonderweiss crawling underneath the table making unintelligible noises occasionally. Sighing again, I stood, returning my screen to a blank state with the click of a button.
Berating myself for my lack of discipline, I moved quickly out of the lab in towards a pair of double doors, which was only down the hall from my current location. My brows knitted together, I was unable to focus and I found myself constantly drifting from my tasks. I had a month, two weeks of which (at minimum) had to be spent setting up my invention. It would take time, and I had just over a week and a half to pull my own act together.
Thee days, that's all it was. Finding the door, I placed my hands on the cold steel door handle, admiring the craftsmanship for a moment before I realized that I was once again procrastinating. I grasped the handle tightly, pushing the door open just enough to allow my slim frame to slip inside. Leaning heavily on the door, I examined my room once it had occurred to me that I hadn't slept in my bed for over a week. I have too many all-nighters, I conclude, nodding to myself as I resolved not to do such a thing tonight.
Smiling, I can't help but think that my room is far less minimalistic then the others'. I, like Grimmjow, have a bed. A thick mattress donned with soft bedding. Now, I spend a lot of my time working, so I don't compromise on comfort when I can get it. Although, I can't help but think that the white metal, almost dainty looking frame makes the bed look almost girlie. Although, I do admit, I have a pink throw. I laugh quietly, that had been the blanket Aizen-sama had given me when I had first entered into the world of the Arrancar, before I was given my clothes. Sentimental value. I must say, it is most unlike me to become so attached to something, let alone an inanimate object.
There is a circular carpet at my feet, white, like the floor and the walls, and a rectangular window which sits lengthways over my bed, perfectly. It was the perfect length to filter the light of the blue sky into bedroom, and of course, the bed itself was in the perfect position to allow the light to fall everywhere but directly into my eyes. It would be most irksome if that happened in the mornings. I would be in an eternally bad mood...perhaps that's why Grimmjow's so testy all the time.
Grimmjow...
The smile slips from my face and I push off the door wordlessly, moving to sit on my bed, sinking as I place more and more of my weight onto the mattress. I haven't left my tower since our last encounter. I wasn't afraid in the least, but I'm sure that's what it looked like. I've been attempting to work. Also, I have had no reason to leave my tower, no meetings, no outdoor experimentations, no cries for my assistance. I fall back onto the bed, allowing myself to sink into the comfort that the material brought me, letting my legs dangle over the edge of the bed. Make no mistake, I am not traumatized in the least. In fact, I feel somewhat liberated.
It's been quite a while since I had been with someone in that nature. I huff, rolling over slowly, curling up on the bed a little. It still hurts. Not much, but it does. After all, I had only recently stopped limping. My eyes wondered listlessly over the piles of circuit boards and various other pieces of electronic devises that littered the shelves and work benches that lined the walls of my bedchamber.
However childish it may seem, I blame both Grimmjow and Ilforte for my lack of focus. Why is it I should suffer when one of them is dead and the other is probably prancing about behaving like nothing had ever happened. I know Grimmjow; he isn't liable to deem that encounter important. I frown, my brows furrowing – just what was it that killed Ilforte? I'm annoyed about how often this matter has been at the forefront of my mind, since the very moment of his passing. How am I supposed to concentrate of the task handed to me by Aizen-sama if all I can think about is the body laying on a slab in my own personal morgue?
If I wasn't so sure of myself, I would think this was torture. Deliberate mental torture. One of Ichimaru Gin's 'fun' little games. But no, this is purely coincidence; nothing could have been planned out so immaculately. Scoffing at myself, I turn away from walls, in favour of the ceiling. Paranoia – such a waste of time.
Sitting up once again, I place my feet back on the ground, coming to a stand. Very well, if the only way to concentrate is to get ride of my distractions, then I shall. One by one. Ilforte first...
I make my way swiftly out of my chambers, out into the hall, allowing the door to slip shut of it's own volition. I wondered briefly if I heard it shut at all once I rounded the corner, slipping into yet another room. The door was heavy, so it slipped shut somewhat slowly, but with an obnoxiously loud thud that no door should ever possess. I made a mental note to fix that later, but for now, my eyes scanned the cabinets for a familiar name, finding it quickly, I stepped up to it, yanking the door open and pulling out the body rack. Ilforte is much paler now, not that I was expecting anything else. He's cold to the touch, although I don't need my gloves off to tell me that, given the temperature of the refrigerator.
Abandoning the corpse for a moment, I reached over, pulling a mobile stretcher towards me, and once again lifted Ilforte's body to place it there.
Sliding the rack into the cabinet, I closed the door with ease, leading the stretcher through the double doors on the opposite side of the room. I grinned a little to myself – I haven't been in here for a long while. Too long. I really must be harsher with Lumina and Verona. They give me a reason to come here.
I take in the scent of disinfectant and revel in the sterile atmosphere of my lab – well this part of it. After all, my tower is basically constructed of various different rooms all for different purposes. Rolling the stretcher up to the operating table in the centre of the room, I once again lift Ilforte with ease and turn swiftly to put his body onto the table – I suppose I'm doing an autopsy of sorts, ah, scratch that; I am doing an autopsy. There's no 'of sorts' about it. Plain and simple, just how I like it.
Pulling up my sleeves to rest the material snugly around my elbows, I slipped off my wrist length gloves which were usually hidden beneath the tight material of my shirt, and placed them into the large pockets of my hakama. It fooled most into thinking it was a one-piece item of clothing, instead of two. Not that I had any intention of tricky in the first place. They just never thought to ask. I reached over to my side, picking up a pair of latex gloves, pulling them on with practised ease. Looking down my noise at Ilforte's naked form, I'm almost certain I looked unimpressed with him, and I most certainly felt superior. After all, I always have been.
I had closed his eyes upon placing him in the morgue, I didn't want to have to look at them while I worked. He looked peaceful still, his blonde locks falling here and there, draping elegantly over his shoulders. Of course, when it had been divulged that we were siblings, most had to do a double take, some even dismissed it as a lie, as our similarities were not immediately obvious. The first was our hair, completely different, in shade, length and even the type of hair we had. I had never envied Ilforte for his beautifully straight locks, after all, I had thought that I would just make me look even more effeminate. Besides, I like my hair as it is, I believe it is just wavy enough to add perfectly to my intellectual appearance.
Returning to my comment of effeminacy, however, I am not oblivious to it, despite appearances. I find things like that hard to ignore after I have been called 'Miss' or 'Lady' more then once in the past, or as per the usual method: blatant mockery. But, no matter. I have learned to use all aspects of my appearance to my advantage. Although, how I can be mistaken for a women when I wear such a tight uniform, I don't know. I sigh after a moment, perching on the edge of the operating table, examining Ilforte's face. The second drastic difference between us is our eyes. Or at least most people seem to think it is. In all honesty, our eyes are just very different shades of the same colour. But, having said that, such a marginal difference is bound to throw people off. Even our skin was different – his tanned slightly, while mine was almost porcelain.
I looked like a doll compared to the exotic beast my brother was thought to be.
The only similarity between the two of us in the end is our facial structure. Slowly, I trace Ilforte's jaw with my fingers, running them smoothly over his cheek and the bridge of his nose. It's exactly the same, our noses, our jaws, the shape of our eyes...our lips. On a whim, I lean down, planting a soft kiss on Ilforte's forehead. I'm certain I had never been affectionate to him during our lives as Hollow, but... "foolish brother" I whisper, more to myself then Ilforte. I don't know when it had surfaced, but before I could think twice, I found myself acting on the compulsion to lean further down, and I thoughtlessly attached my lips to his in a soft, motionless kiss.
"You look so pathetic right now..." I continued, my lips hovering over his own.
- - -
A few hours later had seen the end of the autopsy, and as I once again found myself walking through the corridors I looked over the file in my hands, checking and double checking the data. From what I could tell, Ilforte had suffered a severe (by medical standards) case of malnutrition. Of course, it was not obvious physically, but it was still classed severe. I hadn't noticed until I had started the autopsy however, that he had a small, obviously infected wound on his lower back.
Naturally I concluding that the infection itself would not have killed Ilforte, at least, it wouldn't have if Ilforte's immune system hadn't already been weak – hence the rather large problem I have with Ilforte's lack of concern for his general health. I frowned, entering into the data collection room of my tower.
Tossing the file onto the lifeless computer panel I sunk into my chair, fingering the white, soft material lightly, quietly frustrated. Apparently, my curiosity had only served to waste my time. I had hoped to find something of interest, instead I learn that for whatever reason, Ilforte had been abusing himself. He looks even more pathetic now then he ever had. My eyes narrow in annoyance, as I reach over to pick up the file again, lifting my feet to the chair, curling up cosily reading over the information again, written somewhat sketchily by my own hand.
I must admit, for a while, I had been tempted to devour my brother – so that I could seize his reiatsu, and merge it with my own. Of course, I briefly wondered if it would increase my strength enough for me to take Zommari Leroux's rank in the circle of Espada. I chuckled lightly at the thought. Probably not – I may have been able to close the gap a little more, but...not completely.
Not to mention, I'm finding it quite difficult to forget how good it had felt when I had lifted Ilforte's forearm to my lips, clutching to his wrist tightly. I had stayed that way, for almost five minutes. Although we Arrancar are free from the fears of regression, thanks to Aizen-sama, we still hunger. But I very rarely get the urge to eat on of my own, but when I do, I have to satisfy myself with my Fraccion. They aren't nearly as filling, but it gets the job done.
Aizen-sama had forbidden the eating of our "allies", but he had never said anything about eating our already-dead ones either. So, why I had found it impossible to break Ilforte's skin, I'm unsure. It made me almost uneasy in a way, how I could lick, taste and smell Ilforte to my hearts content, savouring his sweet skin, the texture of it against my tongue and relished the scent of his Reiatsu...but never sink my teeth into his arm, never tear him to shreds piece by piece. Never...never...
Although, once I had returned to my senses, I had dropped his arm, almost disgusted with myself. After that I had worked to complete the autopsy, glad afterwards that I had gone against myself, confirming during said autopsy that Ilforte had suffered a fatal infection, and was glad that I had escaped the possibility of falling ill myself. If that were indeed to happen after I ate Ilforte. Then I had thought of how utterly cannibalistic it would be of me to do such a thing – not very becoming at all.
Of course...
My eyes darkened significantly, as I turned the page of the medical report in my lap.
"They can't do shit for him". That's what Grimmjow had said to me. Either Grimmjow was lying, or the infection was more serious then I had previously thought if the medical staff were so incompetent that they couldn't cure it. It's not unreasonable, as Ilforte's malnutrition was probably a key factor in the strength of the infection... His immune system was already week when the infection took hold. Perhaps it was a misdiagnosis on their part, if they made one at all.
What I wanted to know was how long Ilforte had been damaging himself like he had been. What had possessed him to do something like that. And then there was the small matter of the wound he had acquired – why wasn't it treated? It looked like a knife wound – a clean slice on the small of his back. Too clean...however, it is entirely possible that Grimmjow is lying, but...then again. Grimmjow's not a very good liar. He doesn't see the need to, so he's rather out of practice, I would assume. And besides...
It takes a liar to know a liar.
I scoff at myself, closing the file abruptly and placing none too gently on the computer panel, the monitor flickered to life for a moment before I pushed the file violently to the side, pressing a button quickly, smiling in satisfaction when the screen once again turned black. My smile faded however when I realized – the autopsy didn't help my curiosity at all. It made things worse. Suddenly I found myself irrepressibly frustrated that I...seem to have developed...a fascination with Ilforte's situation.
Very well, then. I resolved, standing from my seat and moving swiftly but calmly out of my laboratory and towards the exit of my tower.
- - -
Finally, after a twenty minute trek, I found myself in the main building, the epicentre of the Arrancar community, Everything happened here – meetings, gatherings and sometimes fights. There were even facilities for the Arrancar's more humanly functions, for example: A canteen was built towards the centre of the lowest level of the building, for when the Arrancar felt a need for sustenance. Of course, the Espada had their own personal facilities. But along with the canteen, there were communal bath-houses and shower rooms. There were courtyards and training facilities, and even a library, which even Ulquiorra and I frequented in our free time.
But I was not here for books, food or even to visit the shower rooms. I was here for one thing and one thing only. I was here for Grimmjow.
I strolled at a leisurely pace, certain that I would find the Sexta in my own good time. He was always here – for lack of anything better to do. Smirking a little as I went, I had to refrain from laughing out-right as lower level Arrancar all but dived out of my way. Some where so afraid of me that had plastered themselves to the wall as I passed, intent of not catching my interest. After all, I did have a slight reputation for toying with whatever caught my eye – be it through a few mind games or flat out experimentation. Not to mention, that despite my femininity, I could like quite ferocious apparently. I think it's my eyes. Aaroniero had once told me to "stop thinking so hard, you look like you could melt an iceberg", after that Zommari had nodded in agreement "you're eyes burn with such passion" he had said, and approvingly to boot.
I had laughed and dismissed the comments.
Looking ahead of me as I walked, I smirked minutely, seeing a familiar Fraccion round a corner. He seemed to sense my gaze upon him, and he turned to me, pausing mid-step, "Tesla-kun" I said melodically, walking over to meet him.
"Szayel Aporro-sama" he greeted formally, bowing slightly. He straightened out after a moment, flicking a few strands of dirty blonde hair out of his eye, looking almost disgruntled.
"Where is Nnoitra?" I asked, getting straight to the point. As nice as Tesla was to look at, I found him exceedingly dull. But, I suppose that's not entirely his fault.
He looks perturbed only a second before replying, evidently not expecting my tone to have changed so suddenly "Nnoitra-sama is-"
"Go bug your own Fraccion, Szayel" I blink – then a smirked after a moment, Nnoitra had clearly been working on concealing his Reiatsu. It's worked well. Looking over Tesla's shoulder at Nnoitra as he lent casually against the wall of the corridor, I laughed lightly.
He's wearing that silly grin on his face again "I missed you too, Nnoitra" I say, playfully. My gaze moves over to Tesla again, which he catches quickly and moves off to the side, allowing me to pass unobstructed.
Moving forwards, I stop, a few paces from Nnoitra. He looked a little suspicious of me. But, what can I say? Normally he'd be right to, as I don't make a habit of actively seeking him out. "What do ya' want?" And that is still the case – I don't need Nnoitra at the moment.
"I was wondering if you would be so gracious as to help me look for someone..."
(A/N: Hm, no Grimmjow this time. I hope this is getting more interesting for you. I know it's going a little slowly, but don't worry. I'm only introducing the plot. Please, I'd love to hear any suggestions you may have though!
Thank you to Anonymouse #270 for reviewing! I felt loved. And thank you to those who favourited this story and placed it on Alert.
I have a question for you, Anonymouse #270. Did the Grantz Brother's receive enough love in this chapter?)