Ienzo-san moved in the bed, pushed himself on his one arm, throwing himself to the side. He would need to learn to function minus a limb. It was not going to be easy.

How many times had Ulquiorra sat with him while Ienzo-san held a book in one hand, and turned pages with the other? Even things as simple as that were going to be more difficult now.

"Use your feet," Ulquiorra said, the words in Rozarrian. Ienzo-san had learned the language as a springboard for teaching himself Nabradian, a similar but different language. When Ulquiorra had been young, Old Rozarrian had been a secret language spoken between himself and his friends. Ulquiorra and Lawliet had spent evenings talking together, using only the dying language of their country, spoken aloud by almost no one any more. It had been something that had been just for them, something Ulquiorra shared only with the small handful of people he could claim as friends.

Using the language with Ienzo felt natural, as natural as it had once been with Lawliet, and Bonita, and Neron. They were gone now, but Ienzo-san was not, although it had been a close run thing today.

"Push with your arm and opposite leg," he explained. As if you don't wish to put down your book, he thought, but didn't say.