Impressions

He'd gone too far. The scientist had miscalculated, absorbed as he'd been in provoking the Quinta Espada. Such an error was exceedingly rare, as he almost never let his guard down, but he had. And true to nature, his mistake went down with dramatic results. He could only form his lips into a silent oh as Nnoitra stood, his teeth exposed in a savage snarl, and hurled his poleaxe across the table. His fury was palpable in his heavy reiatsu, which was directed entirely towards him. Paralyzed by its weight and his own surprise, Szayel didn't move until the massive weapon reached him. And by then it was too late.

His hand fluttered down to the hilt of his zanpakuto as he moved to block the blow. In vain; Santa Teresa caught him across the left cheek before he could even draw his sword. There was a moment of resistance as the poleaxe's blade pressed against his glasses and held… then a crunch as the frames broke under the force and Szayel was thrown backwards. His chair splintered beneath him and his bones creaked audibly as he slammed into the floor. His skull cracked ominously against the tiles, but none of this registered with the scientist. His right eye, wide with shock, stared sightlessly into the distance; he was entirely preoccupied with the agony that flared through the left side of his head and filled his vision with jagged shards of light. The pain was so intense that he could not even scream. Only a muffled gasp crept past his lips before he crumpled, unconscious.

The others looked on in silence at the spectacle before them. Though their meetings occasionally became violent, such a circumstance was rare. Fights were generally kept private and personal rather than public. Violence was not disallowed, but it was an unspoken rule that a certain amount of discretion must be exercised for appearance's sake. Especially among the Espada. As the highest ranked Arrancar, they were burdened with more responsibility than others of their kind and represented, if not a paragon of virtue, then at least some semblance of order.

Nnoitra seemed to realize his faux pas as he retrieved his weapon, for his expression became a little guarded. However, after another moment he sneered and sat back in his chair, propping his feet up arrogantly on the table.

"Bitch was askin' for it," he drawled by way of explanation, narrow violet eyes darting around the table as he dared his compatriots to disagree with him.

"Kindly remove your feet from the table, Nnoitra," came Aizen's voice, velvet and cool. Nnoitra looked over at the Shinigami, edgy despite his careless façade. Aizen's face was placid, but Nnoitra wasn't fooled. There was a sinister chill in his words; the man was not pleased. Nnoitra lowered his legs.

"Learn to control your temper, or I will have to discipline you myself. I have been too lenient with you, I'll concede," the Shinigami warned as he watched his subordinate comply grudgingly. Nnoitra scowled.

"He fucking deserved what I gave 'im," the Quinta spat. His moment of rebellion ceased as a crushing wave of reiatsu bore down on him, as thick and dark as tar. He grit his teeth and pushed back with his own spiritual pressure to lessen the overwhelming weight on him. Aizen's eyes glittered threateningly, the beginnings of a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. The pressure on Nnoitra tripled, and he gave up his struggling, shoulders bowing under the oppressive weight of Aizen's power. It was difficult to breathe.

"Forgive me," he finally managed to choke, overcoming pride and paralysis. The pressure lessened, but his head remained bowed. He stared at the tabletop, shoulders trembling and cheeks burning with humiliation. He'd have screamed a death threat or declared vendetta on anyone else at that point to save face, but he couldn't. Not against this man. This was Aizen after all. This was God.

"Aizen-sama."

That was Hallibel. The taciturn female had spoken up, her voice even and unconcerned. Aizen glanced over at her, acknowledging her respectful interruption.

"What is it?" he asked, perfectly collected. As if a minute ago, he hadn't been publicly punishing a mutinous underling.

"It is Szayel Aporro-san. Something is happening."

They all turned to look at where Szayel lay in an awkward heap amid the wreckage of his chair. He was still unconscious, but something indeed was happening. Even as Espada and Shinigami looked on, a pink mist rose from his broken frames and swirled around his body. He began to shrink. The change started at his limbs as they grew shorter, then moved down his extremities to the rest of his body as the process accelerated. When the reishi mist had faded, a child lay where the Octava had been, dressed in oversized clothes.

Aizen's eyebrows lifted in mild surprise.

"My…" he murmered as he took in the sight of his former Espada.

"He's a fuckin' brat!" exclaimed Nnoitra, mouth agape. He laughed a second later as he experienced a wave of déjà vu. "Just like Nelliel," he crowed, gloating over the diminished form of his latest victim.

The little figure stirred, moaned, and pulled itself up into a sitting position. Opening his right eye, the child peered around the room at his audience. He blanched, one small, pale hand flying up to touch his left eye, and Nnoitra observed how he flinched upon probing the bloody region. A long, vertical gash marked over his forehead and cheek the place where Santa Teresa had bitten into the flesh. Slivers of bone showed through where the cut ran deep enough. Though Szayel's Hierro was weaker than that of most high level Arrancar, it had saved him from dying from the vicious blow; Nnoitra hadn't been playing when he'd struck him.

The child whimpered, adjusting the twisted remains of his Hollow mask. The left lens was smashed, presumably into his eye though it was hard to tell since it was swollen shut and completely obscured by blood, and the spectacles were now positioned slightly crookedly. They also, he noticed, hadn't shrunk with him, and so they were rather big on his face. They kept sliding down the bridge of his nose, prompting him to shove them back into place every so often.

Hallibel was the first to act. She stood, casting Nnoitra a silent glare as she strode over to the dazed child and knelt in front of him, tilting his head back to assess the damage to his eye. With a strip from his outsized uniform, she cleaned away the excess blood and fragments of broken glass. His eyelid was lacerated with a crisscrossing network of shallow slashes inflicted by the glass, and one deeper line running vertical from the poleaxe, which amazingly enough hadn't sliced through the skin. Almost as soon as she'd wiped the blood away, it welled up again. She cleaned it a second time, then pulled the eyelid up to examine the eye itself. It appeared to be free of glass, scratches, and puncture wounds. His Hierro had again spared him from critical damage, and his glasses had taken most of the blow.

"He'll probably keep the eye if it doesn't get infected," she announced quietly before returning to her spot, mission complete. It remained to be seen what would actually be done about him now. Aizen leaned forward, eyes fixed on the pink haired child, and resumed control.

"Boy, do you know who I am?" he asked non-threateningly.

"Aizen-sama," was his prompt reply. The Shinigami seemed amused.

"And do you know who you are?"

"Szayel Aporro Grantz," he replied just as swiftly, then frowned. It was an endearing expression on his youthful face; almost angelic. Frustration became him just as well. "But… I only remember my name. Nothing else. My name and you."

It was spoken with wide-eyed childish candor. Aizen smiled indulgently at his reply, pleased by his answer. Nnoitra wasn't nearly so taken by his words. His violet eyes narrowed even further till they were little more than slits. Yeah right. That answer was way too perfect. There's no way you're as ignorant as you pretend.

"Do not trouble yourself; you'll remember in due time. But you were my Octava Espada," said Aizen, his voice a purr. So, Nnoitra thought, he'd decided to make this into a game. Good thing for the brat he was so charming; Aizen did not keep useless toys around very long.

Szayel looked suitably impressed, his good eye widening even further with wonder. Magnified by the enormous glasses lens, it looked larger than usual, giving him a sweet, vulnerable look that screamed protect me. Oh, he was good.

"Wow…" he breathed ingenuously with just the right inflection of awe, "I was the Octava…"

"And you may be yet, but for the moment, you are powerless until your memories return. You were a brilliant scientist. You may be able to discover a way to reverse this, but until then… we shall have to place you with a temporary guardian," Aizen said soothingly.

"I would be so honored! I will do my best to remember quickly Aizen-sama and not disappoint you!" he piped up earnestly.

Nnoitra barely resisted the urge to laugh cynically, succeeding only because he knew if he ruined Aizen's good humor now, there would be hell to pay later. It was lucky enough that the Shinigami wasn't pissed with him at how things had turned out. Damn lucky! Guess the little bitch isn't so bad after all.

"I know you will," remarked Aizen, "So that's why I'm placing you with one of two possible candidates. You have a history with both of them, which may help you regain your memories. The familiarity will hopefully stir something. The first is your older brother Yylfordt-"

Grimmjow growled threateningly, casting a resentful look at the boy. He did not want his Fraccion and consequentially himself to be saddled with the duty of caring for Szayel. Nnoitra smirked at him, imagining the proud panther king carting around the pink haired child on his shoulders. Pink and blue, like cotton candy. They'll match. Won't that be a sweet sight? Haha. Poor bastard.

"-the second is Nnoitra," Aizen finished serenely. Nnoitra gaped at him, stunned. Grimmjow took the opportunity and flashed him a retaliatory smirk. The Quinta's open-mouthed stare became a snarl, and he slammed his fist into the table.

"History? What fucking history! The hell I'm looking after the little brat!" he yelled, standing up again. Aizen did not force him down this time, only graced him with a cold look.

"You will do as I order Nnoitra, and you will do it without complaint. In fact, you will do it with pleasure. Now sit down."

Nnoitra sat, seething, but he didn't dare disobey. Not after all that had happened that day. Aizen was not merciful, much as he liked to portray himself that way, and it did not take much to earn castigation from him. Nnoitra was teetering on that very fine brink.

"Good. You aren't completely stupid it would seem. Szayel, I will place you first with your brother Yylfordt given the familial connection. If that does not work or the setting does not agree with you, then you will be transferred to Nnoitra. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly, Aizen-sama," said Szayel with a beatific smile. Grimmjow groaned, but did not seem as antagonistic as earlier. The blue haired Arrancar's eyes found Nnoitra's and narrowed in challenge. Just you wait, he seemed to say. He'll end up with you. I'll make sure of it. Nnoitra returned the challenge with a cocky grin and flipped him off.

"Then everything is settled. Given the unexpected events of today, I adjourn this meeting. We will resume the issues we had been discussing at a later date. You are dismissed."

Aizen waved his hand to indicate that they should leave, and the gathered Espada dispersed, heading back to their own quarters. Nnoitra did not tarry in the meeting hall, but stalked out with a jaunty air at the first opportunity. Only Grimmjow stayed behind, irritation showing in the way he tapped his foot impatiently.

"Hurry up!" he growled hostilely. Szayel dragged himself to his feet, swaying for a moment as his legs shook under him, then trotted tentatively over to the Sexta.

"Sorry…" he murmured, his golden eye imploring sympathy. Grimmjow looked away, unimpressed.

"Keep up," was all he said as he turned his back on the child and sonidoed off.

Szayel's face pinched in frustration as he tried, and failed, to do just so.

Author's Comments:

Its obvious by now I don't own this series or its characters. This is ; no one on here owns these series, and I can't imagine an author submitting fanfiction to their own series. Thus, disclaimers are rather useless in my eyes.

Alright, I'm going to apologize very quickly to my readers. For those of you who read Fuchsia Phoenix, I am not dropping that series, only taking a break. Up until today, I've been studying for my AP US History exam, so that has occupied my time. I was also sick recently, so that has also sucked. It seems though that when I am sick and have too much time on my hands staring at the ceiling for hours on end trying to ignore the pain of an earache, I think up crack all too easily. This was born of that sick day, and I had to write down the first chapter at least so that I wouldn't put it off and forget about it.

So, this series will not be updated regularly; it will be updated whenever the hell I feel like updating it since I am going into it without a set idea. :3 Its sort of my quirky experimental series. Much lighter than anything else I've written. More cuteness, more humor, less serious romance. Er... it kind of has to be or else it would turn into a shota fic. Granted, I'm probably twisted enough to write one, but that's not my intent. (Not consciously anyways. Who knows what's floating around in my subconscious...) The pairing is Nnoitra/Szayel. Don't be fooled by this first chapter... things will change in the second. Though I'm tempted to write some Grimm/Szay in the future. (If the Grimm/Ulqui fans wouldn't eat me for blaspheming against their ship. D: Can't we all get along? I'm an openminded person.) I... don't think it really counts as yaoi. o.o There will be implied pairings throughout, but... eh. Whatever. No one who hates any sort of yaoi would be reading this anyways because of the pairing. So I don't care.

See you guys around in the next chapter. ^^ Remember, read and review. Though there isn't really much to review at this point. x3

~Tinari