I could not bring myself to continue "Mommy" because it already had that finished feel to it and I could not bear to disrupt it. So I have conceded to write an extension of it. For Satscout, who mistakenly thought "Mommy" would be a multi chaptered story.
I know Il Forte (Yylfordt) is already dead. And so is Szayel. Please, don't judge me. And this is quite...out of story. So, bear with me here.
Enjoy!
Szayel, or, rather, Zaera Aporro Grantz, was born February 18, quite some time ago. We were in Hueco Mundo then. Come to think of it, I can't really remember a time when we were OUT of Hueco Mundo. He was born in a little shack in the middle of the desert, with that endless crescent moon peeking through the window at my mother. I sat outside. Because, you know, I'm not a huge fan of the blood and guts thing.
We didn't have a father. At least, not one that I could remember. So I thought to myself, "Maybe I could be Zaera's 'paternal' figure...ah, screw it. I'm his brother. That would be wrong...wrong to, like, the fifth degree."
Mind you, it wasn't pleasant, sitting outside a little rundown shack in the middle of a cold desert, the sand blowing in my eyes and getting grit in my hair, listening to my mother scream inside the godforsaken place. No. I wasn't happy. But come on. I was, what, thirteen at the time? Would YOU be happy if you'd been placed in an awkward situation such as that? No. I didn't think so. And if you answer yes, I must ask you: Are you a masochist or something? Or do you just have nothing better to do with your life?
After sixteen long and boring hours in which I gave up trying to wipe the sand out of my eyes, the screaming stopped. And then a second later, a new form started up. A baby's scream. Goddamnit, I thought. Does the screaming never end?
So I walked inside. The baby was there on the floor of the shack, covered in blood and screaming its lungs out. My mother, however, didn't look to be alive at this point. It was as though the pain had gone straight to her head and caused a stroke or something of the sort. I didn't care. When you're a Hollow, as we were, it didn't really matter who lived and who died. Besides, I was pretty self supporting at that point.
The baby, though...The baby. What to do with this mess? First of all, I didn't even deserve to be taking care of the damned brat in the first place. My mother was the one who got herself pregnant. Dear God. If I could reincarnate her, then I would have. Just so she could take care of that...that thing.
Second, I didn't know who the dad was. Heck, I didn't know who MY dad was. So therefore there would be no way for me to package up this little screaming thing and send it to the father with a three cent stamp and a postcard saying, "Dude. Look at WHAT THE FUCK you've done."
And third, I didn't know how to take care of a baby. I mean, what self respecting thirteen year old boy (and an only child, mind you) would know how to take care of a baby?
Anyway, things get a little fuzzy after that, but I vaguely remember picking him up, deciding to name him "Zaera Aporro", cleaning him, and wandering around Hueco Mundo looking for something to feed him so that he would stop the crying already.
I got tired after a while, and I guess Zaera did too, because he finally stopped crying. I sat down for a moment, and before I knew it, I'd fallen asleep. Before I did, though, I saw the vague outlines of three men. Then I blanked.
After I woke up, I was sleeping in a white bed in a castle. This castle was called Las Noches, according to a sign on the door of the room. At first, I freaked. Zaera wasn't with me. And alright. I'll admit it. I got attached to that pinkette after a few hours of wandering around the lonely desert. Some theories of where he could be ran through my head:
"Maybe he died because he was too hungry."
"Maybe he was superhuman and grew from a baby to an adult in the span of a few hours and wandered off."
"Maybe he decided, 'To shit with this.' And left."
Alright. And it turns out that neither of those things happened. Rather, he was lying in an incubator off to the side of my bed. And sleeping peacefully. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least he was alive. At least we were alive. And together. Now that I've managed to seem like a total sap in the course of three minutes, let's move on...
The three men were Aizen, Gin, and Tousen. They had come from Soul Society because they didn't like their ways or whatever and wanted to wage war with them. Okay, fine. I could handle that. I definitely knew what it was like to want to kill someone. In fact, a few minutes after he was born, I'd been wanting to kill Zaera for screaming too much.
They said they were building an army of Arrancars. I wanted to be part of that army. So Zaera and me (I'd refused to be parted from him) were put in this large white room (all the rooms were freaking white and grey. And I don't want to hear any shit about how, 'Oh, that wall was cream,' and 'This wall is off white, they're very different colors!' I don't care. White and grey. That's all it was. And the occasional black.) and there was this little machine thingy with an attachment at the end that looked like a hand. The hand moved forward, to my face first, and ripped off most of my Hollow mask. It didn't hurt, surprisingly. Well, not much. It felt as though someone had taken a scab off my face.
Zaera didn't cry when his mask was ripped off. For that I was glad. God knows it was hard enough appeasing him without him crying too. We were now part of the Arrancar army. At least, I was. Zaera wasn't old enough yet. So I was given the task of raising him. And I did just that. I taught him, trained him, played with him, for all of my life as an Arrancar and all the way through his infancy, childhood, adolescence, and partly through his adulthood.
This is the story of Zaera Aporro Grantz. The story that WASN'T told in the manga.
Because all unwritten stories need to find an outlet, don't they? What better way than this?
I don't really know how this is going to turn out. But, let's just say that I would like you to review nonetheless.
Buh-bye!
Skyskater