Eyes upon the scale, you can never waver.
Lest you wish to be branded; a traitor.
***
Jugram Haschwalth stared upwards, watching the endless skies up above. Fascinating those blue heights were, but his appreciation for them long since vanished when he became diluted in the solvent known as time. Wavering, and wavering, he couldn't believe himself to have felt so, but his Balance had already been lost not too long ago, ever since his decision had been made. So with no other object to keep weight on the other side, the pan he stood on fell.
Unceremoniously, and perhaps even disgracefully. While laying on the cold pavement of Wahrwelt, the beginning of a new world never meant for him, he began to earnestly delve into his thoughts for the final time. Blood continued to trickle off of his body, staining his outfit's interior a sickening red. The once white cloth delicately intertwined together had been sullied, an unfitting image for the Sternritter Grandmaster.
...Not that it mattered anymore.
For millennia he had acted with certainty, and yet only a few minutes was all it took to leave him faltering in his steps, stumbling like a buffoon. There was only one word he could say with clarity, and that was regret. Yet, did he truly feel regret? After a long time passing, dedicating all his being toward another's goal, passing such judgement would be... wholly unfitting for himself. Regret... regret...
He didn't feel regret. There was no regret. He regretted nothing at all.
That was right. That should have been right. That was what he felt, truly...
...So when the last vestiges of life were drained from his body—his heart beating and pausing non-stop—why oh why... Why did his hand reach for the handle of his sword laid by his side? He knew it well, the weapon liberated from its scabbard, and the companion he had maintained even during a young age. Found under the pyre of a collapsed estate; it was an unblemished blade he found solace in.
Despite his gaze being unturned to the instrument of war, his fingers knew where to travel. Inching, closer and closer, toward the destined mark etched upon his life, a form of fealty he had once "sworn." With a single exertion of effort, his hand clasped the blade's arm, feeling the textured grip. Lacking any strength to keep himself firm, the Sternritter Grandmaster would find his fingers faltering and unfolding, however.
All tensity left his muscles, and his half-lidded eyes closed. The cold pavement of the ground invaded his body, all temperate heat leaving him from battle's drunkenness. It all intensified further, leaving a sickening chill to climb down his spine.
Was there a need for regret? He had seen his death, he had contemplated his death, and he was now facing his death. There was nobody to answer him, other than himself, for his life was not one where solace could be found. So therefore, upon the final hour of his life, he could say with certainty once more, that he regretted nothing.
He served his purpose.
He fulfilled his goal.
He paved the path for the Almighty to come into fruition.
In his final moments, his fingers touched one final part of his blade, an all too familiar crest carved into the handle.
Everything sunk.
Only one revealing thought came to him.
Friend.
...There he knew, at the last blinking moment, there was regret.
***
The whirr of machinery filled his ears incessantly. It irritated him, more so than he would ever admit under his unfeeling visage. But before frustration came confusion, one so intense it had left him momentarily torn away from the peace he once felt. His body still felt cold, and neither did his sense fare any better under the condition he was in. In fact, what was his condition?
A spike of uncertainty overcame him, while the technological sounds gathering together to form a grating symphony continued on. Still, Jugram couldn't move so much a millimeter or inch from his position. Left contemplating over what could have been to induce this strange phenomenon, he attempted to check over his body one more time.
His capabilities were crippled physically from the state he was in. He could hardly even breathe in the cold frigid air he was stuck in, frozen in time. Even with all of these factors acting on him, there was still the unmistakable fact that he felt the life's pulsating beat rhythmically tapping in his chest, just ever so faintly. If the fact his ears were receiving sound wasn't enough, then his slowly beating heart was the dealbreaker.
Unable to physically move or rely much on his five senses, Jugram hurriedly attempted to absorb any ambient Reishi on instinct, entering an autopilot mode meant for soldiering on rather than being lost in his own vices. The moment he attempted to do so, his heart skipped a beat, and the cold temperatures around him became ever colder.
There was no Reishi.
He couldn't absorb anything.
He couldn't activate his Quincy powers reliably.
He couldn't unfreeze himself from the clutches of this... machinery.
Calm... he needed to keep calm...
He still possessed Reiryoku, a great degree of Spiritual Pressure, even as a Quincy who relied on the intake of Reishi, and its concentration in the environment. Any competent Quincy knew they would have to face scenarios where the Reishi they had access to was insufficient, but from what Jugram Haschwalth was feeling right now... there was nothing. An impossible fact made true.
There, many theories sparked to him in his defenseless state, all the while the seemingly automated messages ringing from outside the machine continued to spew words he couldn't understand.
Something injected into his veins, he could feel the short sting of pain from the assumed needle. If he could frown right now, he would have definitely done so, but alas, his body movements were not responding to the pleas of his brain.
The first theory was that he had been captured by the Shinigamis, and was stuck in some sort of stasis chamber to be experimented on. That would explain why he couldn't sense any Reishi in the... coffin(?) he was stuck in, and it would also explain why he was stuck in such a restrictive area in the first place. It was all a viable thought, since even Auswählen was not always a guaranteed—or swift—kill. Therefore, that would grant the Shinigamis enough time to.
Another syringe, he assumed it to be a syringe, injected into his veins, feeling the short sting of pain from the needle. If he could frown right now, he would have definitely done so, but alas, his body movements were not responding to the pleas of his brain. Whatever had been injected into his systems he could find out later, but he was not satisfied with the progress of events in the slightest.
...Something was being lifted, and that something he had identified to be the lid of this strange machinery. All he saw was an ebony as dark as the night before, but now there was some sort of penetrating light bleeding through his closed lids. Utilizing the scant few Reiryoku inside of his body to enhance his sensory range, he felt there was movement outside all around him. So the Shinigamis hadn't utilized any devices to restrict his own Reiryoku despite creating a room removed from Reishi?
...Hold on, if there was movement around him, then why didn't they possess any detectable Reiatsu either? Did that mean they were robots—
—His eyes were blinded. There was something being said that he couldn't hear, frantic and desperate to a degree. A release from the bitter cold was felt. Even if it was by a wholly insignificant degree, any feeling of heat Jugram would gladly soak and become drenched in. For now, he couldn't focus on any contentment, for current circumstances did not allow for that kind of pleasantry.
He lifted his hand up, shakily. His somatic nervous system had been restored, but not to a degree he was satisfied with. Light, light... brighter than the blue heights hanging above the planets or even the Spiritual Worlds, continued to blind his closed eyes. Given time to adapt, it wouldn't be a problem, and given Reishi to manipulate, he could have enhanced his eyes with Blut Vene in order to reduce the annoyance's effect on him. Right now, he was helpless, only able to slothfully move his shaky limbs.
How he still had access to his abilities was a question that continued to strike his chords, making him feel uncomfortable with how it was betraying everything he knew at the moment.
"—tor!"
There was something being said. What was it?
"—octor!"
He could feel something move closer to him, quickly.
"...Doctor!"
A sense of foreboding overcame him when he heard the last words. That settled it, he was in a laboratory institution belonging to the Seireitei, otherwise known as the Soul Society. All that needed to be said was the word "doctor," and he had already delegated the identity of this "doctor" to be Mayuri Kurotsuchi, Captain of the Twelfth Division. Studying all the Shinigami Captains had done wonders for the Sternritters, and now—he would need to utilize this knowledge in order to escape. If he could.
"Take my hand!"
By no means could he do much without access to Reishi, a crucial component needed to complete the complex cog array that was the Quincy. Even when desiring to spring himself out of the casket he was laid inside, his hand was gently grasped by warm others. A confusing sensation, but he didn't care to pay it any thought.
"He's struggling to move, please, we need to act quick!" The voice of a female, quite young in age, sounded into Jugram's ears; and by extension, toward the entire room.
Act quickly? In order to sedate him? Questions, questions... he needed to abandon them, and cycle as much strength as he could via dampened Quincy techniques in order to break himself from this dilemma.
Fruitless, fruitless, it continued to be fruitless. When was the last time he had ever become this frustrated and backed into a corner? The former had been felt when facing off against Uryu Ishida in a clash of ideals and fortitude, but the latter was relatively new. With the many means at his disposal, such a fear hadn't come to strike ever since...
His mind came back to a pink-haired man, with blistering heat surrounding him.
...He needed to quash these thoughts, and curb them toward the back of his mind. Uncertainty would be his insidious killer at this rate, not Auswählen.
I mustn't bear any hesitance, Jugram thought, feeling his hearing start to fade. Inwardly, he attempted to keep himself as calm as possible, especially since the clutches of unconsciousness were starting to latch onto him. Pushing it away with difficulty, he barely kept himself awake in the state his body was in.
Frost, cold and unforgiving, clung onto his skin, twisting his bones around in chains. As a result, he couldn't command his body to do anything while he was carried out of the strange contraption he was once locked inside. His vision wasn't faring much better, flickering between a blurred realm and a pitch-black world.
...Now, where was he being brought to? He was fully expecting to see the sadistic facial expression of the Twelfth Division Captain, with his rambunctious outfits, and manicure of cruelty.
***
"How is the Doctor?" Amiya stared anxiously from her position, watching Medic run a few tests in order to see the Doctor's condition on a medical bed. "Will he be alright?" She tilted her body to the side in order to get a full view, something the other Operators behind her had also been guilty of doing.
Long flowy blonde hair silkily smooth and possessing similar textures at some parts, along with bangs of the same color hanging just over his face. A shadow was cast over it as his eyes continued to twitch while closed, nobody knowing whether he was attempting to consciously open them or not. In what magical ways his hair was in perfect condition despite his skin having become pale and being stuck in the Sarcophagus for a long time, was not something anybody wished to delve on for too long.
Suffice to say... he was gorgeous. How did nobody know he possessed luscious hair of considerable length? Even under the disguise he wore, something like that would have never escaped somebody's sight.
"His conditions are..." Medic said, "relatively fine, with a slower heart rate compared to normal, but they are stabilizing to homeostatic conditions rather... quickly?" A brow was raised, causing Amiya to become confused herself.
"Is that unexpected?" Admittedly losing patience due to excitement and fear, Amiya walked to the side of Medic, and received a better look at the Doctor.
"Most likely, an outlier..." She reasoned. "Also, the results indicate he's definitely the Doctor, all tests so far are pointing toward it, even if he's... wearing a different outfit than usual. Blonde and white, I would have never expected that."
"Mmh. I believe... he may have changed his attire before entering the Sarcophagus...?" Amiya nodded, looking at the blonde-haired man in a trance. She hadn't ever seen him without his mask or hidden outfit, or anything out of it, but there he was wearing something completely different from what anybody would have expected. "Doctor..." Her rabbit ears twitched, hand reaching out toward him.
"Ah, be careful, Amiya." Medic rushed her hand to place on Amiya's own. "I wouldn't suggest doing that right now, especially with..." She could feel the faint rumble of shuffling along with everybody else.
Heads were perked up at the small indication of movement, as the eyelids of the Doctor had finally fluttered open. The long white cloak draped around his body and left spread out in creases twitched, further opening up from the departed state it was already in. A misty air of condensation left his lips, eyes springing wide open with an intense light reflecting off of it, triggering a sense of danger from a few Operators.
"O-oh! He's awake, Amiya!" Medic turned toward the Cautus woman with a relieved look on her face.
"Doctor..." Amiya hushed, watching the blonde-haired expectedly, her heart racing at the signs of life finally coming out in full. "Doctor, are you okay...?" She moved closer to him, once more hovering her hands toward him, but refrained herself from reaching any further when remembering the warnings of Medic—
In an instant, a flash of white covered Amiya's vision, blitzing across her line of sight and disorienting her. A small "eep" left her lips when something wrapped around her neck, turning her over and keeping her restrained. She immediately recognized it to be the white-cladded arm of the Doctor, glistening with blue veins from underneath. Said blue veins were bright enough to bleed through the cloth, even if they were flickering.
Amiya assumed it was Arts, a shocking display given he had never shown such capabilities before.
"D-Doctor!" Medic called out, while the Operators observing tensed themselves, hands almost springing for their weapons.
Amiya, keeping the most calm out of them all in the midst of the escalating situation, yelled, "Everybody! Please, stay calm!" Her voice made the Operators pause even when she winced from the pressure applied around her neck. "Don't draw y-your weapons!"
A stagnant air overcame the room as multiple postures were kept, mainly ready to act on the offense. Medic stood at the forefront, nervously holding her medical supplies while her eyes twitched between the now awake Doctor, and the Cautus trapped in a deadlock grip. From underneath the blonde-haired man's locks of hair, even a fool could tell he was on a blade's sharpest edge.
"Doctor... Please, calm down. It's me, Amiya." She could feel the spiral of emotions. Namely, uncertainty, wariness, and danger which radiated forth from his mind. "We're here to rescue you, there's no need—"
"Where... am I...?" a demanding voice gasped, holding a tinge of authority in them, and ladened with an intense tiredness. "Who... are you...?"
"I-it's me, Amiya!" Amiya repeated, suddenly feeling as if cold water had been splashed over her. "Doctor, we've..."
"I do not... not recognize that name." His voice continued to cut her off. "Not Amiya... or your..." Her ears twitched, tapping him on the chin, making the blonde-haired man briefly pause. "...Appearance. Neither of you..."
"D-do you not remember?" The Cautus could feel her pupils quivering, her hands placed on his arms in order to find as much comfort as she could in spite of being restrained by the neck. "Doctor..." Her voice shook.
The Operators stared amongst each other, not knowing what to make of the situation.
"I..." The "Doctor" said, but immediately paused. His eyes seemed to have widened before he groaned in pain, losing grip over Amiya and falling to the side, gripping his face. The Cautus jolted in response, falling out of his arm before stabilizing herself.
Even when groaning, she could have sworn there was a "noble" feel to it, a form of etiquette formed over years of experience. Thinking fast, she turned around in order to gauge his condition, even when Medic was attempting to dissuade her from approaching any further. She wouldn't break away from the Doctor, especially not when he was troubled!
Even if it's amnesia... I will stand by your side, Doctor! Just one step at a time, just one step at a time... Amiya thought with conviction.
"Doctor... please..." She ignored the voices of the Operators and the footsteps, and attempted to place her hands on his while it was over his face. There was pain encompassing his entire body in a cloak of needles, pricking into his skin. "Let me... let me help you..." She didn't know why, but when she closed her eyes, she saw something staring back at her.
Two pairs of three irises colored red, bleeding its gaze deep into her soul
Blinking once, Amiya gasped and broke away, feeling the hands of Operators and Medic on her shoulders, slightly bringing her back to a safe distance from the Doctor. She could have sworn she saw red eyes on his own from the crevices of his parted fingers, but was met with the same blue he possessed before. Confused and bewildered, the Cautus was at a loss of words, even when he had snatched a syringe from the table not too far away.
"W-watch out!" An Operator called out and pulled Amiya away, and ducked along with everybody else when they had seen the action.
The weapon was shot forward, almost faster than a bullet when the blonde-haired man threw it. Slicing through the air, it missed everybody, but they had quickly come to realize it wasn't targeted to any of them. Why? Because from the back, from the door leading into the room, a flicker of a white-masked figure could be seen, dressed in a tactical vest and hooded jacket, and armed with a machete. Before anybody could react to their intrusive entrance, the syringe had already lodged itself lethally into their neck, causing a splodging stream of blood to fly out.
Unceremoniously, the white-masked fell to the ground, grabbing at their neck while the Operators, Amiya, and Medic had instantly recognized who they were. How the Doctor had detected them before anybody was aware and prematurely threw the syringe was beyond them, but that was the least of their concerns at the moment.
"R-Reunion...?" Medic whispered out, attempting to keep her gaze alternating between the soon-to-be-corpse and the Doctor. "Amiya..." She called out toward the Cautus, nervously tugging at the other's sleeve while staring at the still recovering figure of the blonde-haired man. "What do we do...?"
"...I'll try again." Amiya took a deep breath. "The Doctor... he's not in the best state of mind, please, let me try to talk to him again..." She made a mental note to address the intruder later, as two guard Operators had already begun to stand close to the door, while another pair had decided to keep a close eye on the Doctor in case of another sporadic episode.
"It's just... ugh..." Medic sighed. "Everything's happening so fast, especially with Reunion..." She placed a hand over her heart, halted her speech, and calmed down. When she did, she spoke with renewed clarity. "Please, Amiya, keep yourself safe." Right after, she side-eyed the Doctor who sat on the medical bed pressed against the wall, shoulder attempting to keep his body supported.
"I will," Amiya spoke resolutely, and then felt an Operator tap her on the shoulder. She turned to it, seeing who they were.
"I'll watch over you Amiya, go do what you need to do." A guard Operator chirped up. "We have a lot of problems to deal with right now, but getting the Doctor out of here is our top priority, isn't it?"
"Yes, thank you. Truly." The Cautus nodded in response, turning toward the Doctor who was... staring at her. Although she had been taken by surprise last time, she knew what to do now. "Doctor..." She attempted once more.
His mouth drew open, slowly, his blue eyes still bearing the emblem of wariness. "You keep calling me this Doctor, and yet..."
"We are referring to you." Amiya walked forward, slowly and carefully, as to not alert the blonde-haired man. "Doctor... do you... really not remember me?" Her hands were clasped together, brought close to her heart as her voice had nearly fallen to a whisper.
Silently, he stared at the Cautus, eyes seldom flickering toward the other occupants in the room. Perhaps he had felt the nervousness everybody also possessed, and the cluelessness present in them—some Operators scratching the back of their heads—along with Medic fiddling with her fingers. What he made of the sight escaped Amiya, but she knew, at the very least, his mental condition was acclimating to the metaphorical temperature.
"I told you before... I bear no recognition toward the name, Amiya." The blonde-haired man fixed the collar of his white cloak, a stark contrast toward all the Rhode Island members present. Even if hardly detectable under his cold mask, Amiya could see the thinly-veiled traces of trepidation in his eyes; confusion.
She felt the same way, if not worse. "B-but you're a member of Rhodes Island... you're my partner, and the most important person to me..." Amiya's steps came to a halt, attempting to reach into the Doctor's memories. "You... don't remember..." She could still see the same stoic expression he held up. Not only was his attitude foreign, but his attire too. Never had she seen any outfit like... what he was wearing.
"...If I am supposed to be aware of what you're attempting to vocalize, then I apologize... I do not."
Amiya felt her heart sinking deeper.