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The Captain of the twelfth division is not a kind man. Nor is he a particularly ethical one. What he is, however, is an exceptional scientific mind. He’s a researcher first and foremost. Before he’s a captain, before he’s a shinigami or even a soul, he’s a researcher.
He calls Ashisogi Jizo forth and watches the winged creature materialise in front of him. He grabs it unceremoniously by the head, and heedless of if it’s trill of confusion and pain, throws it down on the examination table and straps it in using metal shackles. It throws it’s small body around in panic, wings flapping uselessly, still trilling at an annoyingly high volume and pitch.
Mayuri groans and slaps his hands over his ears, eyes moving heavenward in exasperation as it goes on and on and on.
“Nemu, the procedure!” He hisses. “Hurry up and stop it’s infernal crying. It’s going to give me a headache.”
“Yes master Mayuri.”
Nemu moves quickly to inject Ashisogi with the new poison and Mayuri watches dispassionately as the loud cries die off into small babyish whimpers of distress. It still struggles of course. It is animal instinct to fight. It is nothing that can be changed in a reactionary creature such as this, but it still disappoints him. This insubordination. In the end though, the creature knows it is beaten. Powerless to do anything but submit to it’s master’s will. It sags in it’s bonds.
Once it’s done Nemu steps back and Mayuri releases the shackles. Ashisogi Jizo curls in on itself, looking up at it’s master with sightless eyes, confused and pitiful as ever. Pathetic.
Mayuri sighs and calls it back, watching the zanpakuto disappear with a surprised trill. He sheathes the sword and goes back to his computer.
It’s a wonder they have to go through this every time.