*laughs nervously* Ah-hehehehehehe... Don't kill me...? Please?

While this may not be an update to one of my existing fics, it is only a one-shot, so this will only take a moment... And yes, I said one-shot. Yeeee~! *dances* My first one-shot, my first one-shot~! I'm so used to writing multi-chapter epics of doom that I had thought I'd never be able to do this, but I did~! It still turned out pretty damned long, but I resisted the urge to write more chapters!

Hehehe... Alright, before you start reading, I have to warn you that male-on-male is heavily implied. In fact, screw implied; I went as far as I could without actually describing the anatomy of the act. Not for fear of doing it, of course, it was actually fairly easy, but the whole thing is supposed to convey a sense of ambiguity, and randomly being perfectly clear about the intimate acts would ruin it.

Alright, now that we've established that this is male-on-male and those who are uncomfortable with this have fled, let me next warn that this is SzayelxIshida. Please, really, if you not only do not like male-on-male, but also do not like SzayelxIshida, do not read this... Belatedly complaining isn't really going to change the paring, because I've already posted it. ^.^' See the logic?

Also, this one-shot contains so much goddamned angst I didn't get to sleep until five this morning for having written this. Seriously. I have no idea what emotional issues I'm going through right now to have thought up something this damned depressing after my uncalled for, unexplained hiatus, and in the wee hours of the morning, no less, but I should probably be seeing a therapist for it.

And just so no one is confused, this is told from the third person limited; you'll be seeing things as an OC sees them, which is why things may get a bit ambiguous and confusing...

Finally... ^.^ I'd like to thank Inuyoshie for provoking, feeding, and turning the plot bunnies that gave birth to this idea into such rabid little monsters; I probably never would have not only written this, but posted it if she hadn't jabbed me.

Thanks, Inu~!

Now... let the angst... begin~!

The Breaking of Uryu Ishida


The Fall of the Quincy

He threw his head back and screamed, his body convulsing as the pain and toxicity of the clear liquid burning through the veins on his arm slowly leaked pain up to his shoulder and across his chest to his heart, where it abruptly pulsed out in a starburst of agony.

As his head slammed back against the vertical metal table over and over, shattering his vision and making it nigh impossible to see, he was barely aware of the person in front of him muttering.

That person…

The person doing this to him…

"Wh-What are you doing to him? You could at least knock him out!"

"Hnn… Himiwari, Ruan… Age… Height… Weight… Oh, I'm sorry, Quincy, did you say something? Did you, perhaps, suggest that I put this experiment on hold and move onto yours?" That person, the one doing this to him, chuckled, purring on in a silkily dark voice, "Because I would gladly do that…"

"Bastard…!" Someone else… someone in the same position as him growled.

The silky voice's sigh was incremental as its owner turned to face him again, "Oh, hush, I'll get to you in a moment… Hmm, the effects seem to be wearing off. A tad too diluted then…"

Lax, lax, lax… No longer convulsing and relaxed… Then, the burning came back and he started screaming and convulsing yet again.

Someone yelling.

The silky voice becoming rough and high-pitched as it screamed out in laughter.






He wasn't sure when his eyes had flickered open, if they had ever closed to begin with, but when he could see again, when he was aware again, the lights were dimmed.

Trying to move did nothing, he had long since learned; thick strips of metal that never seemed to get warm were lashed across his wrists, ankles, stomach, neck, forehead, thighs, elbows… Never warm, but so harshly cold they felt hot when he was delirious enough…

Held in place; stuck watching what happened before him.

What happened on the only horizontal table in the room… What happened to the one on the only horizontal table in the room…

He should hate the boy, he vaguely knew that, if only for what he was, but they were in the same situation, and his train of thought, still influenced even now by his training, made him want to protect this still-human soul from the molestations of that monster

Molestations… in every sense of the word…

"Oh little Quiiiiiiiincyyyy booooooy~! I'm baaaa~aaaaaack~!"

"Damn it…"

"Oh, don't be like that. You're still in remission, so the next string of experiments I have planned out for you won't start until tomorrow evening… Today, I just want your… company…"

His vision flickered, and when he came to again a stab of anger flared in him.

How dare he…

A pale hand brushed down a paler stomach…

"Wh-What are you doing…?"

"Dear boy, do I really need to explain it to you?"

Long, almost bony but slender fingers began methodically removing what remained of the Quincy's clothes, faded white turned a slight, dull brown by the desert sands and trimmed in an equally faded blue giving away so easily in some places it practically tore…

Anger, indignation, pity…

While their species may have been at odds, they had obviously still been on the same side for this confrontation. And on a level even more base than that, the boy was human…

Human, young, vibrant, despite his somewhat drab attitude…


So goddamned young… too young… for this…

The pale hand continued its work on the even paler form, pulling clothing away until there was nothing left. Then, it brushed against every last inch of skin, meticulous, curious, cold, calculating, memorizing, mapping out every last contour with hundreds of years in practiced precision. And underneath its grazing touch, paler skin suddenly became not-so-much-paler, pinking slightly…

"F-Fu—Stop that! G-Get your hands off of me!" For the first time, the young voice was anxious, straining and gaining pitch until it broke slightly at the end.

Slightly colored with fear, just like his skin was slightly colored with flush…

"Oh, but you seem to be enjoying it! And now I'm curious… how much longer will it take before your betraying body and your protesting mouth start to agree…?"

He felt his anger grow, making his blood rush, which made the burning pain of chemicals that had settled in his feet spread though his body once more until he was out again.

The next time he was aware, he knew nothing but pain. This time not of chemicals, but of a blade.

He had been cut by swords a million times over, and he would gladly take those swords a million times more if only he could be saved from the bite of this blade, infinitesimally smaller than any sword he had faced but somehow so much more painful…

And the hand that guided that slender silver instrument… How he wanted to break every last finger…

Though part of him knew he should look to the Quincy to check his condition, he could do nothing but stare down as the monster worked on his still-vertical form, slicing with slow, practiced movements with the same clinical precision he had used when touching the boy, when touching all of his experiments, apparently…

He could only watch as slice after slice was made, some left so sections of tissue could be removed, some sewn right back up again…

And he could feel it slipping…

His consciousness… His sanity…

Sliding out of his body, like the blood sliding down his skin…

Was he conscious again…? Or had he even stopped being conscious that time…? Did he simply… not remember anymore…?

…Was this even real…?

Or was it a memory…?

It seemed like it should be… because how many times had he watched this scene now?

The scene of two pale forms, one strapped on its back and the other hovering over it, leaning in close so the one on bottom couldn't possibly look away from his dominator. The scene of two pale forms moving against one another, one struggling and the other repeating the same back and forth motion over and over and over and over…

"Oh, really, don't make such a—" Pant. "Fuss. I haven't even—" Pant. "Broken in yet…"

The boy just continued struggling, grinding his teeth to keep the sounds in his throat that made his slender Adam's Apple bob from bursting out of his mouth, to keep his panting under control.

He felt like… he had, indeed, seen this scene before… But it seemed like… the boy wasn't struggling as loudly as he remembered… Last time, he had been screaming.

Last time, the Quincy had screamed as he had struggled in vain, attempting to escape as the one on top as he ground their naked hips together.

This time, he remained silent, or as silent as he could…


Or was he getting tired…?

And then… when it was over…

"I swear to you… on the Pride of the Quincy… that I—"

A sharp slap. "Be silent, boy. Pride? What pride? Do you still hold onto that foolish ideal? That glimmer of hope that you will escape this? Do not be ridiculous. They are dead. Every last one of them. There is no one left to rescue you, no one left to pity you… Except maybe that one over there."

For some reason, he felt as though he was being gestured to.

"But he is a prime example of the condition of those who are left; silenced, immobile, unaware, broken. Powerless. Weak. Finished. Much like you would be, if I hadn't taken you… Don't threaten me with your empty pride; thank me. Because fate has dealt you a cruel hand… I am all you have left."

He would have frowned at the silence that followed if he were still able to control such fine movements…

…The boy used to scream in protest at that kind of logic… but now…


He watched dully as the two bodies moved against one another, the paler, submissive one actually almost darker than the dominant thanks to the flush its skin had taken.

How long had it been…?

How long had it taken… for the last struggling warrior who had survived the War… to break…?

Though the boy did display the occasional bout of rebelliousness, he was silent when the monster spoke of what he was going to do to him, how weak he was, how weak his friends had been…

The boy was silent when the monsterdid things to him…

The boy no longer held back when he panted, though he did force himself to choke down moans…

Though the boy tried not to respond in the positive, there were times when his control would… slip… When his glazed eyes would roll back into his head beneath broken glasses and he would arch his spine, toes and fingers curling as his hips rolled back into a thrust.

And when that happened, the monster would smirk down at him, pet his sweaty, flushed face, coo encouragement, reward him…

Train him

And when the monster spoke of the possibility of removing one or two restraints, the boy started responding a bit more often…

He watched it all happen silently from his upright position, strapped to the ever-cold table, in silence, unable to speak, unable to close his eyes, unable to even look away anymore…

If the monster was aware of his level of consciousness, he didn't care.

If the boy suspected that he might still be conscious, he must have stopped caring, as well…

Because it wasn't long after he started responding in the positive to the monster's molestations more often that he actually started to moan.

He watched, numb, as the boy wrapped his unbound legs around the monster's waist, his bony, emaciated ankles knocking against one another in a painfully loud, hollow noise as he struggled to pull the monster closer, deeper

But the monster just chuckled and continued controlling both of their movements, and when one long, slow movement proved to be enough to make the boy moan loudly, he felt something in his numb, limp body snap.

And, for the first time in a while, enough anger and energy flooded his body to make him twitch slightly.

Amber eyes flickered in his direction and a smirk twitched on the monster's lips.

"My, Quincy, it seems you and your delicious sounds have elicited a reaction from our previously silent friend… Shall we give him a show?"

Another moan echoed a bit too warmly in the cold, dry air of the room.

He felt even more anger surge through his body as one long, deceptively lean arm hooked under the leg of the malnourished body below it and hiked it up high into the air, angling the boy's body slightly so his thin, bony pelvis was facing him.

That son of a bitch

He twitched again when foggy, vacant blue eyes met his angry glare, the boy's chapped lips parting in another moan as the monster took advantage of the new angle…

"Do you like being watched?" The dominant one purred smoothly into the boy's ear, making the withered body underneath him shiver and groan, "Do you like knowing a third party's eyes are roaming your body, seeing what I am doing to you and how you are reacting? Tell me, dear boy; this is most interesting…"

He twitched yet again, anger building as the monster continued to coo, question, encourage, and thrust

And somehow… he was able to get over his pain enough to tap what little reiatsu he had left.

Amber eyes narrowed in his direction yet again, and he glared back.

Then, his energy depleted body pulled him back into darkness.

He could survive, he decided.

He could survive, overcome this pain, and do something

If he could still tap his reiatsu, then there was hope.

…Apparently the monster felt the same; amber eyes studied him closely for the first time in a while, a clipboard held in a gloved hand as the other tapped a pen against its papered surface.

Behind him, the boy whimpered and moaned pleadingly, unintelligibly, but the monster pretended he couldn't hear…

"Are you still in there, Himiwari, Ruan?" That silky voice addressed him.

He twitched. Was that his name…? He'd forgotten…

"A reaction… so, you have been conscious, haven't you? This whole time…" More pen tapping. "And your vitals seemed to have improved recently, as well… Namely, ever since—" A pause, then a chuckle, "Did seeing what I did to the Quincy boy anger you?"

He twitched back when the sharp tip of the pen jabbed his stomach.

"Is that what it was? Did watching me give you a new resolve? Have you regained a bit of your fighting spirit?"

He twitched.

The boy moaned, pleading, begging to be touched.

And the monster continued to ignore the boy, clearly more interested in the prone body before him as his amber eyes swept up and down it slowly.

His body, he realized disconnectedly with a shudder.

Those amber eyes looked his motionless body with the same calculating gaze he had when he looked at his paperwork… his test results… his serums and tinctures…

…When he had himself buried deep within the boy's rapidly diminishing body…

This was no different than an experiment… What he did with the boy was no different than an experiment…

…He had expected no less, but it still angered him enough to make him twitch yet again.

This final twitch proved too much for his nearly nonexistent stores of energy; he felt himself losing consciousness.

"It seems you may have outlived your usefulness, Himiwari, Ruan…" That slick, rich voice purred as he, once again, rode the sinking feeling down into the abyss.

And even in the darkness, he still heard the pleading moans.

When he woke again, he jolted to consciousness with a decided snap, his entire body jerking as he opened his eyes and lifted his head.

He felt revitalized.

He felt rejuvenated.

He could live through this.

And even if he could save no one else, he was going to save the Quincy boy!

Looking over to the boy's confinement table, he scowled when he saw the boy completely unshackled, pale skin colored pink as he held onto the monster's shoulders and rode him weakly, even more emaciated than before.

And when the monster glanced over and saw him struggling, he just smirked and laid one hand flat over the spiny ridges of the boy's spine, bucking up once and arching his own pale chest forward as he closed his eyes slightly and moaned in display.

On top of him, still riding, the boy's shoulders rolled back and he stared at the ceiling dazedly, heatedly, thin black strands of hair sticking to his forehead and temples and giving off an oily sheen in the dimmed fluorescent lights.

"You'd like to do something about this, wouldn't you?" The monster purred, smirking, "You'd like to stop me… But, wait, isn't this what the boy wants?"

When his dominator stopped responding, the boy keened and stared down at him, fingers scrambling weakly against his shoulders and fragile hips rocking pleadingly.

"Why, I believe it is…" When a pointed, sharp upward thrust made the boy arch up and cry out in ecstasy, the monster threw his head back and laughed.

He snarled angrily, struggling with strength he hadn't possessed in god knows how long…

"You aren't even thinking about questioning as to how you've suddenly regained your vigor, are you?"

He looked up and blinked, torn between curiosity at the question and anger as the boy was roughly flipped around and pressed down onto his stomach, his dominator crawling across his back and positioning himself before impaling him again.

"You've been given a high dosage of epinephrine, Himiwari, Ruan." The monster grunted, smirking, "And it's only temporary… I wanted to see how you would react to my actions towards the boy once you had some of your strength back. Was the anger you were feeling brought about by some latent need to protect the human? Or was it brought about by the frustration that you weren't able to wreck one of the last of the Quincy clan, yourself?"

That… son of a… bitch!

"Get… off of him…" Ruan Himiwari managed to growl threateningly, his voice thin from days, weeks, months (years?) of disuse.

At that, the monster, stopped his movements abruptly and stared at him, his amber gaze slowly flattening until his questioning humor was replaced with a look of sheer, utterly cold detachment.

"The former, then… How typical."

The Quincy boy let out a vague cry of protest as his dominator left him cold and alone on the table, the monster walking across the room and picking up a fat syringe full of a dark blue liquid.

Forcing himself to ignore what was coming, Ruan Himiwari looked back at the boy, glaring at him and willing him to look back at him, to acknowledge something, anything other than that creature.

And, lo, as the monster walked back towards him, those vacant blue eyes turned slowly to meet his glare, eyelids so thin the color of his irises were still evident behind them blinking once, slowly, as Ruan Himiwari growled.

"Where… is that Quincy Pride…?" He hissed as the needle slid under the skin of his arm and into the prominent, evident vein, a bit of his blood flooding the needle as the monster checked to make sure he had struck his mark before the cold liquid was slowly injected into his body.

A cold, sinking feeling, so much like slipping into unconsciousness or going to sleep, flooded his body. His pulse thumped rapidly, making the thick vein just below his jaw spasm slightly before his anxiety fled and a nameless, unquestionable feeling of calmness wiped all worry and anger from his mind.

And as his vision started to tunnel, his gaze still locked with the Quincy's, he vaguely noticed how the boy's blue eyes regained some of their defiant shine, his pupils narrowing and regaining substance as he stared at him in shock.

And it didn't fade.

Even as the Espada Szayel Aporro Grantz walked away from the shinigami Ruan Himiwari, leaving him to die alone as he crawled back on top of the Quincy Uryu Ishida, that defiant look, that shock, that awareness didn't fade.

It simply turned to anger.

This war isn't over yet… Ruan Himiwari thought with a final flicker of satisfaction before he slipped back into black one more time.

And this time, the abyss swallowed him completely.