He doesn’t even flinch. This is like the sixth or seventh time he’s needed limb reattachment anyway. “Show me. Does it kill anything?”

He doesn’t flinch or wince or pay any real mind to the re-attachment of his hand. It’s not the first time it’s been lopped off. “Any new projects?”

He quietly sits up, arm extended with the severed end of his wrist pointing towards the stumpy end of his arm. “They’re fun to play with. They think they’re so important… and I prove them wrong.”

He shakes his head. “Nah. ‘Sides more rejects to dispose of.”

He hesitates for a moment. “I mean… my hand ain’t on right…”

Pulls @luppiantenor.bsky.social into his arms and brushes their hair idly.

I’m so booooooored I wanna 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘭𝘭𝘭𝘭 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙞𝙞𝙞𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙣𝙣𝙜𝙜𝙜𝙜𝙜…….

Staring at him upside-down from atop one of his lab tables. “Why you mavin’ that face?”

He winces at the needles shoved into the end of his stumpy former hand. “If you think we feel things when they’re dismembered, we don’t.” So. 𝙊𝙬.

He frowns, shrugging one shoulder. “Ain’t a Hollow. It’s probably that.”

He sighs and nuzzles back, eyes fluttering closed as he practically curls into the Pantera’s lap. He’s spent all day in his tests with Aizen… And all he knows is that 𝙋𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖 will keep him safe.

Biting his shoulder back. “Pantera…”

He huffs. “No…” Which isn’t exactly true but the few liquors the Arrancar have are different for the Shinigami here.

Without a second’s hesitation he swings the blade down on his hand— —and the limb is hacked off with a sickening 𝙏𝙃𝙒𝙊𝙋!

He nods… then stops. “You’ll put it back on, yeah?”

“Mm.” His universal answer for things he doesn’t quite understand. “Well… stay.”

He tilts his head to the side. She won’t love the stronger one—the one more likely to live—more…? “… Why?”

“Equality doesn’t exist. There is always someone or something stronger.”

He nods once. He doesn’t despair her for her choice. In his eyes, she made the correct choice. She proved her worth to live by winning. “Mm. Will these two fight then?”

Oh. He blinks once. “I wanted to spare them. My sisters. They would not have survived their first Hollow. Better my blade than a mindless killer. But everyone calls me the mindless killer for doing it.”

He nods quietly. “I had little sisters. But I killed them.”

He shrugs. “What are they?”

He shrugs. His view of the world and how it turns is very different. “Give that hatchling a chance. Stay here.”

“Suffering builds strength. Strength is the only thing worth measuring in life. Separates the living from the dead.” He nods to the thing she has tucked in safe, kept warm. “Can’t prove your strength if you don’t live long enough to try.”

“Not even my home.” He shrugs. “They use that thing like shackles. They weaken me, then give me comfort for the suffering they caused. I’d rather suffer.”

He has no reason to kill either. But he prefers it. But needless suffering doesn’t allow for one to grow into the strong creature they need to be to thrive. “Mm.” He nods, sitting back against the wall to give her space.

He pulls back the shoji to reveal the heated table with the thick coverlet over the edges. The poisons that control him are worse in the winter months, so this helps. “Use it. I don’t need to.”

Making a trilling noise to get her attention. He has a kotatsu in his squad room. He jerks his head for her to follow.

Without hesitation he draws his blade and rests his hand on the white surface of his lab table. “Mm? Well that’s no fun. Wrist bone?”

“… Yeah. Shame.” Even more so that thinking of all the violence they 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 get into has him bleeding through his nose.

He takes the offered cloth with a little shrug. “It’s the only blood I get to taste any more.” He murmurs, and swallows most of the blood before wiping off his unnerving smile.

He snorts a soft little laugh. It’s nice of him to suggest it, but… “Nah, can’t do that neither. Even thinkin’ of murder makes my nose an’ teeth bleed.” He smiles a pinkish smile to prove his point.

He shrugs and grabs a couple of the peanut shells, chewing on the straw-like salty crunch. “I get pitied and mocked all day.”

He sighs and leans forward, head tilted for another peanut. “So I killed all the things I wanted… then Aizen lost.”

Head tilt again— this time on a different side, still at an unnatural angle. “Still feels like it was all their fault though. Wouldn’t have trusted Aizen if those higher-ups didn’t poison me.”

He shrugs. “I mean… I wasn’t in the Academy yet. So I guess it’s cuz’ I killed my clan so young.”

Kazuma snorts again. “‘Cause I killed all those people. Then the bosses lied to me ‘bout it an’ took my memory of doin’ it. Aizen told me the truth. So I joined him. And now I’m bein’ punished for that.”

He shrugs. “I can still take a punch. Just can’t punch back.”

He does take it because eating is one of the few things he’s ‘𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥’ to do. “Can’t. Count’a the thing they do to my head.” He taps his temple. “I so much as swing a punch I go flying and bleeding.”

Would cutting off my hand be fun?

Flops on @sextapantera.bsky.social

“I would if I could.” If he wasn’t locked away. If he could go back to Hueco Mundo for good…

Head… tilt. “I ain’t a Hollowed one. I jus’… like killin’. At least Aizen lemme kill.”

“But ye can still fight! Can still… take the edge off.” He growls, tugging at his hair. 𝘚𝘢𝘧𝘦𝘵𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴… ha. Pathetic. They just wanted to cage him.

He sneers. “It’s a joke. I can’t even kill one’a them!” He winces, the pain triggered at a violent thought lancing through his skull. “Or fight any’a them neither. Bastards…”

The way he wants to wring this grinning man’s skinny neck. “What a waste.” And here he can’t even swing a damned blade anymore…

His nose crinkles. And here he hoped that even though he’s essentially a captive back in the Soul Society… playing with the Hollowed ones would be fun. “It’s a waste on you.”

At least Ayasegawa has stopped forcing him to write things when he doesn’t want to. “Sounds boring. An’ yer one’a those Hollowed ones, right? You’d prefer killing I bet.”