"The only way those of us that died even had a chance of making it out is because someone working for the organization running things had... bodies on hand. They're called gigai, blank slates essentially that adapt to fit the soul placed in them." He raises his hand, brushes his fingers along the scar carved into his cheek. "What you expect to see is what you get."

And as his hand falls away he adjusts his scarf a little, fluffing it just so even though he knows it's covering anything questionable.

"We owed them. For getting us bodies, for giving us a chance. We were never meant to exist in that world, either so we couldn't just go off and live on our own. The only way we might be able to go home is if we died. But even Ichigo couldn't guarantee that, all he could say for certain was that our souls no longer existed in that world. Some people chose to let their souls be released, I can only hope they went home." He sighs a little, tugs the baseball cap he's wearing off and holds it out to Ardyn, the Foundation logo embroidered on the front.

"So now we work for them... low ranking agents. Canon fodder, really. But maybe with time we can make a difference. It's all we can hope for. The only option was to make a deal with the devil or let a bunch of kids die for a principal. Some of them as young as eleven."