ILLUMINISMO [i]

The dungeon was dark, oh so dark, but after who-knows-how-long here, the onyx-haired Visored’s eyes had long since adjusted to it. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, the bars, the ceiling, the glassy slab of a bed, the large doors leading out into the main barracks of the castle; all of it was made of this strange crystal. It was like nothing he’d ever seen before, and though he had not cared enough to test it physically yet, he’d used his Onikamitomi a few nights ago… or maybe a few weeks ago… to check its composition, and it was… alive, to some extent. And strong. He wasn’t even entirely sure he could break it himself; though, he had a feeling this Queen was too proud to let a prisoner rot away in a cell, so he could always just make a break for it if necessary, but at the same time, he had a feeling it wouldn’t come to that. She didn’t seem as opposed to trusting others as she so adamantly claimed to be.

From the corner of his cell the music washed over him; not too loud, after all, people were trying to sleep ‘round here. An old record player sat in the corner; that was still odd. A record player in Hueco Mundo. A record player, of all things. One of the ‘twins’ as he’d come to know they were called, two of the Queen’s three attendants, had slipped it in for him to find some comfort in his cell after getting on their good side after a few conversations and games. He was almost certain their getting along was probably getting on Cybele’s nerves. He smiled. Some prisoner he was, befriending some of his captors, and getting a record player to make him more comfortable. If there was a ratings web site for prisons, he’d make sure to give this one five stars if he were ever to get in front of a computer again.

Suddenly, he felt a small Reiatsu stirring in the cell next to his. He shook off some tiredness, running his hand through his black hair that now reached down to his chest, unbound and messy and tangled, rubbing his chin coated in thin hairs. He was allowed a record player, but that didn’t mean they allowed him the luxury to get a haircut or shave. He slid himself over to the edge of his cell, leaning against the bars as he sat against the wall facing the other cell. They’d brought him down a few nights ago, or at least he was pretty sure; Hueco Mundo had no day, so the only lights to be had here were the almost non-existent moonlight diluted some hundred million times through the rest of the castle above them, and torchlight when one of Cybele’s attendants or subjects brought food or news. The twins had dragged the kid down here, unconscious, one of them holding a torch in their free hand; the kid was young, and didn’t only look young, but dressed like a high school kid from Karakura Town. In fact, that was as good a guess to what he was as any. But what was a kid like that doing here in Hueco Mundo?

Not that he hadn’t seen a human in Hueco Mundo before. But he’d also seen a human die in Hueco Mundo that same day.

Black Reiryoku floated over half of Hidane’s face as the left half of his mask formed, and he snapped his fingers, a black flame coming to life and floating over the tip of his pointer finger, illuminating his cell in a soft, purple light. He flicked the light out into the hall outside of their cells to illuminate some of the kid’s cell too.

“Hey, you alright over there, kid?”