Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Lord Aizen has summoned you,” says the black-haired girl kneeling in the doorway.

You stand in your living room in front of the large floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the crescent moon of Hueco Mundo. Your thoughts are on a never-ending loop about the argument you had with Grimmjow. You couldn’t get over the way he reacted when he suspected your relationship with Aizen. 

The way he looked at you with such disgust, hatred, and pity, you would have rather seen him angry. You respect him; admire him even. A man of his caliber who believes in obtaining power regardless of obstacles, an attitude you strived towards, now, viewed you as nothing. The thought makes your chest hurt. The pain of rejection is familiar, but it didn't make its effect easier to deal with. You sigh as the sound of a throat clearing fills the room.

“Lord Aizen has summoned you,” the girl repeats, more loudly and aggressively. 

You don’t want to go. The urge to avoid Aizen, Grimmjow, and everyone else in Las Noches, is tightening, closing in around you, restricting you like a straight jacket. But, if you don’t go, that will cause more problems, and the last thing you want is to piss off someone who held your life in their hands. Taking one last look at the moon, you turn toward the girl, “Lead the way."

The girl stands up, dusting her knees and readjusting her skirt. Her violet eyes sweep over you, taking in your frame under critical scrutiny. Her gaze feel like a dagger scraping against your skin. To say you feel uncomfortable would be an understatement. She finally meets your gaze and if looks could kill, your life would be nulled.

What is her deal? 

“Are we going?” You ask curtly.

The girl answers with a dismissive grunt and turns on her heels heading in the direction of Aizen’s quarters. Ignoring the pangs of discomfort shooting through your chest, you quietly follow behind her — observing.

You do not share any similarities. She is slim in places you are curvy. Her arms are long enough to reach her knees which contradicts her short frame. She wears her black hair in pigtails with thin strains of hair framing her small, angular face. The remnants of her hollow mask have taken the place of her right eye, leaving a black hole in its place. She wears the standard white and black aarancar uniform which hangs scantily around her body, revealing everything except for the most intimate parts. You both walk in silence through the long, doorless, white hallway. 

As Espada, you weren’t the friendliest bunch, yet it always felt like you never belonged with the rest of the group. You are often isolated from the other which you believe is what Aizen wants. The only resemblance of friendship you had was with Grimmjow, and yet, even that relationship was no longer within your grasp. You have a sister, too. But since she disappeared, you have lived alone in these isolated quarters. 

You both turn a corner and approach two massive, exceedingly wide doors that reach from the ceiling to the floor and are made of the same speckled stone that adorns the inner walls of Las Noches. The girl knocks twice, and with a loud click, the large doors slowly open revealing two slim arrancars. The arrancars open the massive doors and then kneel. The space is wide enough to allow both of you to enter side by side.

This is not your first time here, yet you never learned the names of the aarancar doormen. Their hollow masks cover their entire face, not revealing a single discrepancy that would set them apart from each other. Their mask and their uniform are a perfect copy of each other, not allowing any originality or independence in their existence.

You suspect that they are Adjuchas. They do not have a high purpose other than to do what their master tells them; empty vessels of the main body. A rather bland, but standard fate for hollows. 

You and the girl approach the stairs that lead to Aizen’s ivory stone chair that sits on a large balcony overlooking the dark and desolate Hueco Mundo. Besides the chair, this section of Aizen’s quarters is empty. The same emptiness spreads throughout his living quarters and only holds the necessities. Other living quarters, like his bedroom and bathroom, are behind the single door parallel to the ivory stone chair.

Aizen stands near the balcony railing with his back to you. He doesn’t speak. Nor does he give off the impression that he knows you are in the room. He continues to look at the moon while standing at the balcony railings. Slightly to the left of Aizen is Gin Ichimaru, one of the Soul Reaper captains who sided with Aizen when he betrayed the Soul Society. His second in command. 

Gin stands facing both of you, wearing the same expression that always adorns his face— a cat-like grin and closed eyes that give the impression that he is up to no good and that he is not meant to be trusted.

At least, you didn’t trust him, and you knew Aizen didn’t trust him, either. Yet, he keeps him by his side for reasons you are unsure of. 

The girl kneels beside you, clearing her throat, “Lord Aizen, I have brought Lady Y/N, as you’ve requested.” You look at the girl kneeling, then turn your attention to Aizen, waiting for him to acknowledge your presence. 

“You’re dismissed, Loly,” he says without turning around. 

The young girl, Loly, did not move. Instead, you can see her back stiffen, clearly affected by Aizen’s blatant and unremarkable dismissal of her. 

She continues to kneel, but slowly raises her head, her violet gaze locking onto the back of Aizen’s head. As if sensing her gaze, Aizen speaks again.

“Were my directions unclear?” 

The girl is rigid as she spares a glance in your direction.

“Oh, dear. This is interesting,” says Gin, finally making his presence more pronounced. 

The room feels rigid and the tension is so thick you could cut it with your zanpakutō. You feel the anxiousness radiating from Loly’s body. Although a part of you want to ask her why she hasn't moved, the other part of you didn’t care enough to figure it out. You are more interested in the reason why Aizen summoned you. 

As you take a step forward, heading up the stone stairs to Aizen’s ivory tower, the girl speaks, “I don’t think it would be wise for me to leave you alone with this woman, Lord Aizen,” she blurts out, and you freeze mid-step as surprise washes over you by her sudden accusatory tone. 

What is with her distrust of me? We just met.

For the first time since you’ve walked into this room, Aizen turns towards you.

“What an amusing statement,” he says as he gazes down at the girl. “Why do you think we shouldn’t be alone? Do you have reasons to suspect Lady Y/N?” 

The girl breaks eye contact with Aizen, glances at you, then settles on gazing at the floor.

“I-I just don’t trust her, my Lord. You need protection and-“ 

An invisible, threatening presence envelopes the room, interrupting Loly. It is an immense pressure. One that feels so heavy and suffocating, like a cobra is slowly wrapping its body around you; cracking each of your bones, making it a struggle to breathe. The pressure feels as if it sucked all of the life out of the room, and with shallow breaths, you cling to your sheer will to stay above the inflexible presence. 

Your legs feel heavy as if bricks are strapped to your ankles and a boulder tossed on your shoulders. You can’t see the threat, yet you can feel its sinister intent to suffocate you and make you succumb to its owner. Craning your neck, you look at Aizen. His haughty gaze locked onto Loly, and you knew instantly that he was asserting his spiritual pressure. 

“Do you think I cannot protect myself, Loly?” Aizen asks. 

His voice is so calm. It doesn’t match the deadly energy that fills the rooms. You look at Loly, and it seems as if she’s stopped breathing. You knew that if you were having a hard time withstanding Aizen’s spiritual pressure, Loly would not be able to survive it. In itself, Aizen’s spiritual pressure is enough to kill someone with low spiritual pressure like her. 

Suddenly, the immense pressure ceases, and Loly collapses onto the floor panting with thick sweat droplets falling down her cheeks.

“Your concern is misplaced,” Aizen says.

Loly’s panting fills the quiet room as she lies on the ground, eyes trained on the floor, while Aizen scans her cooly, unfazed by her struggle to control her breathing. 

“I’m sure that whatever Lady Y/N intends to do to me— “ your gazes lock; his brown eyes holding a slight glimmer of mischievous, “I can subdue her.” You ignore the obvious jabs and break eye contact as Aizen turns away from the scene on the floor and makes his way to his balcony, “you’re dismissed".

Your attention is back on Loly, who is still on the ground. To have Aizen’s wrath directed towards you is an experience that not even the strongest Espada can withstand, she wouldn’t have had a chance if Aizen decided her existence was unnecessary. You couldn’t help it, even with all of her hostility towards you, you felt pity for her. Enough pity that you offer your hand.

“Do not fucking touch me you bitch,” she sneers, slapping your hand away. Her eyes bore into yours as the venom in her words coils around you like a snake. Her violet eyes, dark with what was once dislike, then anger, now exude pure hatred. 

She pushes herself off of the ground, struggling until she makes it onto her feet, and begins to stagger towards the large doors, and you watch as she exits the room. 

Chapter Text

The heavy, steel doors slam shut with a resounding click that rivaled a thunderclap. Even after Loly’s footsteps faded behind the closed doors, nobody made a sound--the thick silence stretches over you like a weighted blanket. You didn’t want to draw any attention to yourself, so you attempted to control your breathing. Yet, the weight of Loly's declaration and Aizen’s assault made it difficult, and your heart pounded in your chest like a jackhammer—your anxiety becoming the winner of this battle of wills. Absentmindedly, you caress the persistent stinging where Loly slapped you.

“That was rather amusing” Gin’s voice slices through the quiet like a butcher's knife. The sound of heavy-healed boots thudding against the tiled floor rattles your nerves. You turn away from the doors and instantly meet Aizen’s gaze. Standing outside the open archway of his room, where the balcony overlooked Hueco Mundo, Aizen leaned against the intricately carved stoned railings—exuding an air of nonchalance as he watched you. Loly’s presence became a mere memory as you find yourself entrapped in his deep, calculating brown eyes.

You felt exposed. He always made you feel like that whenever he stared at you for too long. You felt like an open book; he knew every single thought that crossed your mind and predicted future ones that haven’t graced your consciousness. It was unnerving, and one of the things that made him so frightening. 

And one of his many abilities you had to manipulate if you wanted to get out of Hueco Mundo with your life. Steeling your will, you break the trance only to find Gin standing off to the side watching both of you.

“Well, not as amusing as this,” his cheshire smile widens and you cringe. “Shouldn’t she be punished, Lord Aizen?”

For a moment, you aren’t sure if Gin is talking about you or Loly, and you eye him suspiciously. It wouldn’t be the first time he threatened your life; nor his first attempt to end it. You and Gin never tried to hide your distrust for each other, which is why you often kept your distance. You’d be damned if he was successful in his attempt to kill you before you accomplished your goal: to find your sister, escape Hueco Mundo— and, if it came down to it, kill Aizen.

Nevertheless, you fought against the urge to recoil under Gin’s stare. Your limbs grew heavy, bolting to the ground as the weight of animalistic instinct fought your logic. You decide to focus on the looming crescent moon nestled between the two men in the black sky to distract yourself from the urge to kill. 

“That won’t be necessary,” Aizen’s voice almost broke your concentration. Like melted honey, his voice coated your skin making you feel hot. 

“Such a pity,” Gin says, without an ounce of sympathy in his tone. 

He isn’t sorry. He is—

“Gin,” Aizen’s voice interrupts your thoughts. “You’re dismissed.”

For a moment Gin does not move and the tension billowed in the room like a miasma. You feel his gaze on you, whetting like an arrow launched from its dock aiming straight for its bullseye. You gripped the hilt of your zanpakutō. Your instincts yelling at you to prepare to defend yourself. 

Or run.

And it was what Gin wanted. He threatened you through sheer will as you kept your gaze forward and face void of expression. You attempt neutrality, even though you feel the least neutral. Your nerves are still on edge with the events that led up to you standing in this room, and you weren’t entirely sure why you were even here. Not provoking Gin was in your best interest.

Still, the urge to recoil grew to the point of unbearability and your carefully constructed mask of neutrality gave way to your stubbornness—snapping like a twig as you turned to face him.

“The staring is rather tactless, don’t you think?”

Instantly, you regret saying anything.

“Oh dear,” he clicks his tongue. “Lord Aizen, do consider getting a muzzle for your pet.”

“Pet?” you repeat, tasting the insult on your tongue. 

Pet? Heat coats your palm as a faint red glow bubbles to the surface of your skin— your cero grew as your anger festered. You imagined hauling the cero at him. His body disintegrates into threads of flesh and bone. His scream of agony graces your ears like an acclaimed symphony. The air coated in the metallic, nauseatingly sweet scent of fresh blood and burned flesh made the corners of your mouth turn up as a faint smile ghosts your lips. You relished in the imagery of Gin meeting his tragic end at your hands. 

“Gin,” Aizen repeats, his voice pulling you from your violent fantasy. 

“Right, right,” Gin says waving his hand in the air with a mocking chuckle. He turns his attention from you to Aizen, “I will take my leave, Lord Aizen. Do have fun.” Gin descends the massive stairs of Aizen’s throne, not sparing you a glance as he makes his way to the steel, alabaster doors. His departure was signaled by a decisive click that echoed in the room.

“Y/n,” Aizen’s voice cuts through the silence. His name on your lips felt like a caress as your heart thudded a bit harder in your chest. 

Your cero cooled, making your palms feel damped, as you meet his gaze— Aizen hadn’t moved from his spot on the balcony. A small grin adorns his face and amusement flickered in his brown iris as the moon casts a luminous light that surrounds him in a halo, making him appear as white in a pit of darkness. A saint over the sinners. 

A false prophecy.

His shadow seemingly stretches across the tiled floors coming to a stop at your booted feet. 

“Did you really think you could take him?”  

“I’ve been dying to,” you answer blandly. “He’d make a nice pile of ash.”

Aizen's smile widens, the action causing faint lines to appear around his eyes. Seeing him smile, you are reminded how handsome the Lord is. The softness of his eyes and the genuine crease at the corner of his mouth often took you by surprise whenever it appeared. It was an expression you didn’t often see, and you couldn’t help but catalog it to memory. 

“Why don’t you join me?” 

“Lord Aizen, is there a specific reason you summoned me?”

You didn’t move, and neither did he. The irritation of Gin’s inquisition conjured up annoyance that slithered across your skin like a snake. On top of that, you felt embarrassed for the intimate thoughts you had about the Lord. The same man who kept you under his thumb. His control.

You can’t allow yourself to be wrapped up in his charm. You have a goal to accomplish, and a dazzling smile or soft eyes will not deter you from your freedom. You made a vow to yourself. 

“Do I need to have a reason?” 

No, he doesn’t.

Still, you didn’t answer him.

The smile faded from his face, and his eyes hardened. Sighing, Aizen threads his finger through his wavy brown locks in stifled aggravation; a small piece escapes his prim hairstyle and flutters to the front of his face. “Your assignment, have you prepped for it?”

My assignment? Shit. 

It completely skipped your mind. The altercation you had with Grimm took precedence over the mission Aizen tasked you with a few days ago. 

“I’m set to leave in the morning,” you lie. You haven’t made any preparations to go to the world of living and find the Kurosaki kid and his friends— a group of mortals Aizen found interesting. Nevertheless, you were interested in going to the world of the living. Perhaps—

“Is that right?” He slips his hands into his pockets. “In that case that’s perfect. I’m sending Ulquiorra with you.” 

“What? Why?” You balk. “You don’t trust me?”

“No, I don’t.” 

You taunted him, knowing what his answer would be. Yet, it still stung hearing it. Aizen didn’t mince his words, it was one of the positive things you acknowledged about him. He didn’t trust you. He suspected your intent to leave him; to kill him if necessary. Yet he also knew the reason why you hung around. He wasn’t an idiot. The companion was insurance — on you and the Kurosaki kid. Ulquiorra was one of Aizen’s most faithful and loyal Espada, and his duty was to make sure you don’t disappear or attempt to aid the human in fulfilling your grand goal. 

“You’re displeased."

“I’m not.”

“The frown on your face and crease in your brow suggest otherwise,” he points out and you curse yourself. You wore your expression on your face and it took real work to hide them— Aizen was quick to call it out.

“Why keep me around when you don’t trust me?” You shift in your spot. “Having Ulquiorra tag along is a pain and unnecessary.”

As if your question was an invitation for him to be near you, Aizen begins to descend the stone stairs of his throne.

“You, my pawn, are always scheming and plotting in that pretty little head of yours,” each step he took was slow and deliberate. His eyes never wavered from yours. “I never know what you are thinking, but I do know your thoughts start and end with you taking my life,” he reaches the last step and pauses, slipping his hands back into his pockets.

“Since I am such a threat to your life, why do you keep me alive?"

Aizen closes the gap between you, stopping right in front of you. He’s silent for a while as he stares down at you — making you feel small under his large frame. The silence stretches between you, neither one of you backing down. Your heart pounded in your chest sending chills across your skin. 

Finally, he exhaled a long sigh that seemed to cool the charged air between you. “What’s the saying, ‘sleeping with the enemy?” He grins. “It’s simple really,” he leans forward, his face inches away from yours. “I look forward to the day you try to run a blade through my chest. It excites me,” he leans back and you stand there, surprised. 

And pissed. 

“You’re excited from the possibility of me killing you?”

“Trying to kill me,” he corrects, and your anger spills.  

“Your arrogance is astounding. What makes you think I won’t succeed in taking your life?” You challenge and he laughs.

“I guess we will have to see.”

He is so arrogant. You seethe. I am more than capable of killing him. He’s just a man.

“If you only called me here to check my assignment progress and insult my ability as an Espada, you've accomplished it. I believe we’re done here?” You didn’t wait for his response before turning around and heading towards the doors. 

“I didn’t give you permission to leave, Y/n.” You freeze just as your fingers brush the cool doors. “You’re too comfortable with defying me.” 

The air felt thick as Aizen’s voice grew near. 

“You seem to be in a prickly mood. More than usual. What’s bothering you?”

More than usual? He’s to blame for my ‘prickly mood.’

“Nothing, my Lord.” 

You could feel him at your back—the warmth of his body crept against your spine. You weren’t touching but having him so close affected you in a way you didn’t like to acknowledge. You kept your hand on the door, ready to bolt whenever the opportunity arose. 

“It’s something,’ Y/n,” Aizen’s breath caressed your ear like a whisper, the heat sending an involuntary chill through you. His fingers lightly touched the intricate lock of braids you wore your hair in, moving them to the side and exposing your neck. “Since you're being rather untruthful, how about I list the many offenses you believe I have made, and you tell me which one you’re the most troubled with.”

“I said I not mad.”

“And lying to me is such an infantile choice,” Aizen’s fingers caressed your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“Is it the assignment I’ve tasked you with?” He leans in and kisses the side of your head.

“Sending Ulquiorra with you to the world of the living?” His fingers slipped beneath the collar of your uniform, grazing your collarbone.

“Could it be calling out your inability to kill me?” He peppers the side of your head with soft kisses until he reaches your ear.

“Or, maybe, it’s your spat with Grimmjow?”

Grimmjow? Why is he—

Confusion clouds your mind and you step out of Aizen’s sensual assault and turn towards him.

“Grimmjow?” You repeat. “Why are you bringing him up?”

“Seems we have a winner,” he grimaced. “He is the cause of your foul mood, is he not? I know you two have a special relationship,” he says, disgusted. 

“Special Relationship?” You repeat, annoyance evident in your tone. “What do you mean by that?”

Aizen doesn’t answer, he only stares at you. His silence is nothing but an extension of his disdain as the heat in his stare makes you tremble. 

“What do you think I mean?” 

“For your sake, I hope it’s not what I think you’re implying,” anger outweighs your desire as you step towards him, chin up in defiance. “Because it sounds like you’re insinuating something vulgar.”

“You said it, not me.”

You lift your hand to slap him, and he catches it midair. “You should think twice before doing that.” You lift your other hand and he grabs that one too. In one swift movement, he twists you towards the door, pinning you against the steel door. Your head resting on the cool surface and your hands behind your back.

“It’s obvious you know nothing about me,” you seethe. “I would never do something like that with a friend.”

“Friend?” He scoffs.

“Yes, friend. Something you wouldn’t understand.” You shoot back, and Aizen tightens his grip and presses himself into you making it hard to breathe.

“You may be right about that. I do not need minuscule relationships like friendship. But how peculiar of you to ask me how I know about your friendship, Y/n,” he places his forehead against your head. “Do you really think that there’s no part of you I have not seen, touched, or tasted?  Every thought you have, how many breaths you take, your whereabouts--I know all of it. I own every fiber of your being, and you’d do best to remember that.”

You feel his grip loosen on your wrist, but relief is short-lived as his fingers wrap around your neck. Fear settles heavily in the pit of your stomach as the possibility of dying crosses your mind. You try to break the hold he has on your wrist, but his grip on your neck tightens, stifling any movement.

“Is this it?” You goad, attempting to move your hands. “You’re going to kill me?” 

A dangerously low laugh vibrates through his body, causing your back to heat up.

“I could kill you,” his grip on your neck tightens more “but that wouldn’t benefit me,” his fingertips press deep into your skin— the pressure becoming painful. “At least not right now.”

Suddenly, his grip loosens on your neck and you feel his fingers make their way into your braided hair, nails scraping your scalp before forcibly pulling your head to the side exposing your neck. 

You feel Aizen’s warm breath and lips on the base of your shoulder. You couldn’t move; trying to fight the pull of him proved futile as you felt your body start to betray you and your resolve crumble. Anger still rattles through you, but his touch made heat creep underneath your skin planting itself in the marrow of your bones, making you feel hot inside.

“Part of me wants to punish you for your defiant attitude and attempt to strike me out of anger,” Aizen says as his tongue slowly works its way up your neck, finding your ear. “But what really angers me is your protection of another man.” You feel the sharpness of his teeth sink into the tip of your ear, causing you to shudder. 

“Jealous are we?” You manage to sputter in place of the moan that threatened to escape you. His warm tongue replaces the sharp pain from his bite. 

“You can call it that,” he turns your head and his mouth is on yours. 

“You don’t fight fair,” you protest trying to fight the overwhelming pull of him.

A taunting chuckle vibrates in his chest. 

“I never said I would.”

His tongue invades your mouth, claiming all of the space inside. His mouth enclosed over yours preventing oxygen from getting in, and you found yourself feeling light-headed. Your knees buckled against the steel door, and at the moment you were thankful to be trapped against it. It was your only support from Aizen’s relentless onslaught. 

Your body melted against his as his tongue penetrated deeper, eliciting a small whimper from you. Warmness pooled between your thighs as a soft throbbing formed in your core.

He really doesn’t fight fair. 

A knock on the door startles you, but Aizen doesn’t release you from his grip. 

“Speak.” He commands as he kisses the corners of your mouth.

“Lord Aizen, everyone is gathered in the meeting room,” the voice says. Aizen keeps kissing you, ignoring the person on the other side of the door. 

“Remember this Y/n,” he finally says as his long fingers caress your neck—trailing down to your collarbone and lower, sinking underneath your shirt to the top of your breast. “I am a patient man, but my patience is not infinite. You’d do best to remember that your life is in the palm of my hands. I hope you make better decisions.”

He releases you, "five minutes." He fixes his clothes and runs his fingers through his hair as he heads towards the door. "That should be enough time to make it to the meeting room."

You stood there breathless, the feelings of shame creeping into your blood and making you feel cold as ice. You couldn’t believe you fell victim to him again; allowing him to do as he pleased without so much of a fight from you. How were you ever going to leave him? Leave this place? If you fall apart from a simple kiss.

Your hatred for him boiled, spilling over your faux composure. “I will kill you.” You watch as he turns to you. His gaze is unreadable, but his aura of superiority charges the air.“My Lord."

You don’t look away. You want him to read every bit of the threat and resolve in your eyes. 

“Careful now,” Aizen placed his hand on the door. “I just might take you seriously,” he says before exiting the room. 

Chapter Text

What an asshole.

You huffed as you stormed down the quiet halls. 

What was the point of summoning me? Was his intention just to ridicule me? You rounded a corner and saw a set of vast, colorless doors in front of you. It was the same as everything else: bland white walls, colorless doors, and floors. The harsh fluorescent lights blazed above, coating you in an unflattering hue that blanched your skin. Dreary, isolated, and volatile, Las Noches truly felt like a prison.

Why did he attack me? 

The memory of Aizen’s fingers on your skin made you warm as you continued down the narrow hallway. His harsh words, warm hands, menacing aura, soft lips. All of it pissed you off. You hated how much your body responded to him. How, with a simple touch or a simple kiss, he managed to disarm you. He managed to make you drop your guard simply because your heart beat a little faster, and your skin tingled whenever he touched you. 

You melted. 

Every. Damn. Time. 

And after, a surge of guilt slammed into you like a freight train because you’d remember your purpose; you’d remember what he took from you and how he continued to deny you what you really, truly, desired. 

It made you sick.

A rage of convoluted emotions stirred inside of you like a blender; crunching, grinding, and squeezing you until you felt like you wanted to jump out of your skin. I need to get out here. 

You reached the doors and placed your palms against it feeling the coolness seep into your scorched skin.

I will get out here. You press the doors open. I will get away from him. A blast of cool air slams into you as dimmed lights peek through the door cracks— a welcomed break from the harsh lights in the hall.

 I will find her… 

Hushed chatter filters towards you as you enter the meeting hall. Your thoughts trailed off once you noticed the unusually large crowd scattered throughout the room. The ivory table that usually sits in the center of the room wasn’t there. Instead, the space was open, filled with a few attendees. The main attraction was the stone throne that sat atop a cascade of stairs. It was a rare addition, usually reserved when Aizen wanted to hold a council rather than an intimate meeting between the higher-ranked hollow. You looked around the room. Candelabra’s rested in staff-like holders throughout the room, alighting the space in a golden hue. The walls were made out of rock that jutted out like bleachers, surrounding the room in a half-moon. The seats already housed different groups of hollows—mostly Espada and their servants. They sat along the elevated walls, watching everyone from above. As you quietly ventured further into the room, hoping to not attract any attention, a chill ran up your spine as you noticed a few stares from the other Espada.

“Well look who decided to join us.” 

A familiar voice filters over the chatter, piercing you like a needle. Nnoitra saunters over to you from a corner of the room. His tall, lanky frame emerged from a shadow. Hands-on the hilt of his oversized zanpakūto, he looked like a monster that climbed from the depths of hell. And, by the way, he lurked in the darkness and appeared when you least expected, Nnoitra lived up to his nickname the boogeyman. He stopped just to the right of you, hovering over your short stature. The sparse chatter in the room turned to whispers, as the guest took notice of both of you.

Great.

So much for sneaking in unnoticed. 

“Of course I’d be here,” you continued walking towards the open space. Weaving between the room littered with Espada and ordinary Aarancars. “Lord Aizen summoned everyone.” 

Nnoitra followed closely behind as you approached the large, ashen grey stoned steps leading up to Aizen's throne. “I guess you’re right,” he shifted in front of you cutting off your path. “But you pick and choose which meetings you attend, no?” 

You stared up at him. Nnoitra toward over you—which wasn’t something unusual since you were used to being the shortest person in a room; most of the Espada and hollows were tall. But Nnoitra seemed larger. Was it because he was slim and it seemed like his body stretched more than the average person? Or was it the way his large mouth, always spread into a wide, unnerving smile that promised torment--especially how it covered his entire face, exposing unnaturally huge teeth that seemed too big for his slim frame? Or, perhaps, it was his zanpakūto and how he always carried it around in its released form? 

It could be all of those things, but Nnoitra, just like Gin, always gave the impression of mistrust and deception. Your instincts always screamed at you to keep your distance when they were around. 

“I don’t have any say over what meetings I attend. Just as you don’t, Nnoitra.” You stepped around him but he managed to block you again. “Is there something else you want to pester me about?” 

The creepy, too-wide, and too-large smile seemed to grow larger—making his one good eye bead. Nnoitra leaned in, his long black hair brushing over his shoulders to curtain the sides of his face. You didn’t move. You continued to stare up at him. Nnoitra was the type that desired to intimidate others, especially women, but really, he came off like a child throwing a tantrum. 

He didn’t intimidate you.

Not one bit. 

And he knew that which was why he chose to pester you in the hopes of provoking you into a fight.

“But still,” his raspy voice felt like a thousand syringes pricking your skin at once. “Lord Aizen does seem pretty lenient with you.”

“You imagine things.” 

“Do I?” He stood to his full height and tightened his grip on his sword while bringing his other hand to his chin. He looked past you into the distance, as he pretended to ponder. “I just find it interesting how a being like you became an Espada.” His eyes slithered back to yours, his disdain reflected in the dim lighting —making his ebony eye harden. “I mean, not only are you a woman,” he says the word with so much venom that if words were lethal, you’d surely be dead by now. “You’re a—”

The doors to the meeting room slammed open, crashing into the wall and disrupting Nnoitra’s provocation. Everyone turned their attention to the sudden disturbance. 

“What the hell,” the new guest said. “The fucker’s not even here yet?” 

You turned away from Nnoitra to catch Grimmjow sauntering into the room. Everyone watched as he made his way to the open space.

You knew you’d see him. Aizen summoned everyone. Still, you couldn’t help the way your heart pounded in your chest seeing him in from of you. You wanted to talk to him. Be near him. Answer his question from earlier in the hopes of explaining your side of things. You wanted to clear the air. 

Your desire was so strong that your body acted on its own— moving before your mind had a chance to catch up. You took a step forward as Grimmjow neared you. You opened your mouth to speak, but he walked right past you, pushing through Nnoitra and not sparing you a glance. 

“He called us here, so where is he?” 

He stood in the open space, right in front of the stairs that led to the large throne at the top. One hand was in his pocket, while the other threaded into his blue hair, pushing it back as he looked around the room— consciously avoiding looking in your direction. 

He’s ignoring me. You seethe. 

“You should watch your mouth, Grimmjow,” said Aaroniero. “You wouldn’t want Lord Aizen to hear you bad-mouthing him in front of company.” They sat atop one of the jagged stone benches—one of the skull heads peered down at Grimmjow. 

“And if I said 'I don’t give a shit'? Then what? Are you going to make me stop?” 

Aaroniero didn’t say anything. The threat hung over the room as the door opened again and you watched as Stark lazily sauntered in with Lilynette, a child that seemed attached to the soft-spoken Espada.

“You shouldn’t chastise him so openly, Aaroniero,” Szayelaporro chimed in, cutting his eyes in Grimmjow’s direction. He stood on an elevated stone opposite Aaroniero, the dim light reflected in his light pink glasses obscuring his eyes. “A barbaric beast like him is always itching for a fight. No matter if it’s in Lord Aizen’s meeting chamber or in the middle of the Hueco Mundo desert—he simply lacks basic etiquette.”

Grimmjow wasn’t fazed. He seemed bored with the conversation. He ran a hand through his hair, the light blue strands sinking between his fingers. “Barbaric beast, huh?” He cracks a wide grin that exposes sharp, canine teeth. His head lolls back as a boisterous laugh erupts from him. “Yeah, I am a beast. Climbed from depths of hell to slaughter any weak sack of shit that dares to step in my way,” he lifted his head, a small strand of his hair falling to the front of his face, and faced Szayelaporro. “ No matter who they are.” He slips a hand back into his pocket and continues towards the stoned steps. “If you think chastising me is going to get under my skin, then you’re more of a bitch than I thought,” he turned away from Szayelaporo, but the animal-like grin still lingered on his face.

Szayelaporo pushed his slim frames up his nose and stared down at Grimmjow, “Be careful what you threaten Grimmjow.” A malicious grin stretched over Szayelaporro’s face. “I’d love to keep you in my lab for a few tests. A beast like you would make a fine specimen!” He clapped his hands in mock joy, “I would absolutely love to see how pests fester and evolve.”

Grimmjow paused as he neared the end of his ascent up the stairs and peaked over his shoulders at the pink-haired Espada. “A threat from the scientist,” he cupped his chin. “This is exciting. I’d clear my schedule just to kick your ass; just name the time and place, princess” he growled. 

“Bickering amongst yourselves, are we?” 

A disinterested voice interrupted the Espada’s spat. You glanced towards the throne at the top of the stairs and saw Aizen emerge from behind a wall, flanked by his entourage Gin Ichimaru and Kaname Tosen. The room fell silent, as everyone watched Aizen and his crew make their way across the stoned platform. The air in the room seemed to be snuffed out, as rising tension coated the open space in a bleak fog. “How tiresome.”

Your gaze tracked him— lingering on his tall frame, his sharp jawline, and his wavy hair. He looked like a painting; a beautiful intricate carving of oils placed on a canvas. A painter's muse to conjure a perfectly stunning vision of virility. It's an illusion, really. For his appearance only reflected his handsomeness. It didn't reveal the darkness inside of him; it only deceived others, hiding the cold and heatless man that he was.

Aizen was a terrifying man who commanded a room simply from his presence. He summoned a deep-seated fear that you could feel in the pit of your stomach to the marrow of your bones. It ignited your fight-or-fight response— often unable to do either if he decided to turn his wrath on to you. To make matters worse, his unpredictability instilled it; solidified the instinctual fear you felt whenever he was near. As you glanced around the room, you could see that every single being felt the same pull. They knew that their life was fleeting. If Aizen felt your life no longer mattered, he’d snuff it out as simply as fanning away a gnat.

The silence stretched as the thudding sound of boots reverberated like wavelengths throughout the room. Even with your superb hearing, it felt like every person held their breaths, waiting until Aizen decided it was time for them to breathe. 

He finally made it to his chair and placed his hand on the back of it; his slender fingers curved around the stone elegantly. He scanned the room. His brown eyes met yours briefly before taking in everyone else. Aizen sat, and everyone in the room took a collective breath of relief. 

Nnoitra turned on his heels and found a seat on the jagged wall near Szayelaporo. You slowly made your way to the stairs, taking two steps at a time until you reached the top and took your spot at the right of Aizen’s throne. Stark was on his left side with Lilynette, while Barragan sat slightly to your left flanked by his entourage. Gin and Tosen stood behind Aizen, flanking both his left and right sides. 

You never got used to standing at Aizen’s right. And by the way each pair of eyes stared at you, the rest of the Aarancars weren’t used to it either. You knew they speculated how you earned such a prolific spot. You were a fairly new hollow and an even newer Espada. Nobody knew who you were until Aizen decided to turn you into an Espada— claiming that you were one of his “perfect” creations. And, to be frank, you weren’t sure what that meant. 

“I’m glad you all could make it,” Aizen said as he leaned forward, propping his arms on top of his thighs and placing his head on top of his hands. “We have so much to discuss.”

---------———————

The council was uneventful. 

Aizen talked about assignments and plans for the Espada. He talked about rules and consequences, and when there was enough time to spare, he allowed hollows to make requests. Most of the requests were rejected, though. But Aizen listened to every single one. His patience sometimes surprised you. 

Still, it was a tiresome and boring summoning. 

“Well,” Aizen’s voice penetrated your fog of boredom. “That concludes the announcements I wanted to go over.” He leaned back in his throne, his eyes slowly scanning the room making sure to note every single hollow in attendance. The tension never abated as the council continued, but you were happy no tragedy occurred.

At least, this time.

Often, you weren’t sure what Aizen planned, or how he’d react to certain events. He portrayed a cool temperament, but every single person in this room knew that beneath the faux surface of collectedness, his anger fluctuated like oceanic waves. You were just happy his council was over— standing for the entire time was taxing. 

Aizen twined his fingers, “You all are—“

“Lord Aizen, sorry for the interruption." Gin’s voice pierced the silent, tension-soaked air of the room. “Aren't you forgetting something? Wasn’t there an example you wanted to demonstrate?”

You watched as Aizen’s gaze met Gin’s, and a silent conversation went on between them. Eventually, Aizen turned back to his audience, a slight pull at the corners of his lips unveiled a sinister smirk. 

“Ah yes. My example. Thank you for reminding me, Gin.” 

Please. He didn’t forget.  He never forgets anything. 

“Bring him in,” Aizen commanded, and the giant doors across the room opened as the crowd faced it, anticipating what was going to happen next.

As the doors opened, two Adjuchas sauntered in with a hollow between them. The hollow was of average height. A shade of pale purple coated his skin; his hollow mask was unbroken—indicating that he was a basic hollow. Its mask resembled a bird by how its strong, angular beak-like mouth jutted dangerously forward; it looked sharp. The holes in it mask where eyes should have been were impenetrably dark; as if it was a never-ending black hole. The hollow had a large, stocky build which meant that it spent a lot of time consuming the souls of the living. It walked in confidently as if it was unaware of the suffocating fear that hung over the room like a rain cloud. 

As the Adjuchas and the hollow made their way to the center of the room, nobody made a sound— silently and curiously watching them; wondering why they were here. They stopped a few feet from the stoned staircase, and the Adjuchas kneeled, making sure to keep their head low. The large hollow didn’t kneel but instead looked up at Aizen.

“Lord Aizen,” one of the Adjuachas spoke. “We have brought in the hollow from the human realm, Karakura town, as instructed.”

Karakura town? Why does that sound familiar?

“Excellent,” Aizen said. “You may step back.”

The Adjuchas fell back, leaving the giant hollow to face Aizen alone. You watched his confidence subtly shift to nervousness, as he absentmindedly scratched the back of his hand.

“I sent you to the world of the living to locate a special human,” Aizen began. “You were instructed to fight him and gather intel on his power and abilities.”

Nobody said a word. Aizen continued.

“Instead, you were in this town, stuffing your face and avoiding every opportunity to engage with this special human; continuously sending lesser hollows after him and his flanklings, and not gathering enough intel from them before they died, to send to me.”

It clicked for you. It was the Kurosaki kid. The same one you were supposed to gather intel on with Ulquiorra. You were surprised to hear Aizen assigned this task to someone of this hollow rank, ultimately having to send his Espada to do the work.

“What is your reasoning?” Aizen asked the hollow.

“My Lord,” the hollow began. His voice took you by surprise. It was high-pitched. It didn’t fit his appearance. “I planned to gather intel on the human through… through observation,” he stammered. Aizen stayed quiet. “I sent the other hollows before I confronted him because I wanted to know what I was dealing with.” The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “I was going to fight him eventually. And…And kill him too! I wanted to bring his head on a platter for you my…my Lord.”

This hollow. How old is he? With such ludicrous ideals and the lack of basic etiquette, he’d learn fast that—

“I don’t remember asking you to bring his head on a platter,” Aizen leaned forward, “what you so foolishly declared.” Aizen crossed one leg over the other without breaking eye contact with the hollow. You could see the hollow confidence slowly dissipate. “…Your role in all of this was to die.” 

You didn’t think the restlessness in the room could become denser, but suddenly you felt as if you couldn’t breathe. 

“My…my Lord,” the young, arrogant hollow stuttered, “I… I had a plan, I promise I did.”

“But your plan wasn’t the one I instructed you to carry out. Your job as hollow is to blindly, dumbly, follow my rule, and die when I say so. I didn’t allow you to keep your brain to think.”

Aizen turned to you and you saw a curious spark in his brown eyes. He was enjoying this. 

“With you standing in front of me, alive and well, you ignored my orders.”

You didn’t instruct him to die, and you know it. 

“But you can fulfill your duty, and die at my feet.”

“Sir—“ the hollow choked in surprise. “Please…please, I…I can go back and…and..”

“And?” Aizen cupped his chin as he gazed down at the hollow. “Die at the hands of a human, rather than have the honor to die at my whim? I’m hurt.” 

“No...no Sir. I…I don’t want either,” the hollow hung his head. “I want to live my Lord.”

“That was never an option for you,” Aizen turned to you once more. His deep brown iris latched on to you, and you knew exactly what he wanted before the dreadful words fell from his lips. “Y/n, dispose of this hollow.” 

The command was final. Quick. And even though you sensed that he was going to command the death of this hollow, you hadn’t expected it to be by your hands. To be frank, it startled you. He’s never instructed you to kill anyone. 

Usually, his henchman or one of the other hollows carried out his death wishes. But for him to command you to do it—to kill a hollow who evoked so much child-like naivety was cruel and calculated. 

And you hesitated. 

You didn’t want to kill him. He only made a mistake. One mistake. Yet, Aizen didn’t tolerate mistakes. You gathered yourself. If you refused, he’d kill you too. You started to descend the stairs, your palms warm with your cero cresting the surface of your skin.

“W…wait L..Lord Aizen,” the hollow cried as he moved away from you. “I…I won’t do it a…again,” he tripped over his feet and stumbled backward but he stayed standing. His large palms are in front of his body as he quickly scanned the room silently begging for help.

Everyone avoided his eyes. 

This was inevitable. Aizen wanted to make an example out of someone, and sadly, he was the demonstration. His one mistake will cost him his life. He will die by your hands at Aizen’s wish.

You neared him. His large frame towering over you. It didn’t faze you. Not one bit. The heat of your cero warmed the palms of your hand as the red flame grew brighter. You bring your hand in front of you, ready to haul the cero at him, and watch his body disintegrate into nothing.

“P..please!” He yelled as he turned on his heels and headed towards the large doors. “P..please, give m…me another chance,” he reached the doors and tried to push them open but they wouldn’t budge. He turned, pressing his back against the doors. His face was etched in undiluted fear. 

Your heart squeezed. The terror in his eyes reminded you of your family when they met their end. 

“I…I won’t do it again,” his voice cracked as a sob choked out of him. He looked around the room once more, hoping that his brethren would help save him.

No luck.

In a last-ditch effort to save his life, the hollow conjured up his cero to hurl at you. You dodge the attack easily. The heat of the cero brushed past you as you sidestepped out of its range. You heard the loud slap against the floor when the cero met it. A loud cracking sound echoed throughout the room from the force of energy. 

“Attah boy,” you hear Grimmjow whistle from somewhere in the distance. “Fight for your life.”

The rest of the crowd began to egg the hollow on. Approving in his futile attempt to escape his impending death. He hauled another cero, each attack becoming erratic and unfocused, as he ran in circles around the room. You sidestepped each attempt. Not even breaking a sweat. 

The hollow didn’t seem to have aimed at you to kill you. Each attack was a diversion because as soon as he hurled his cero, he took off running. Seeking space between you two. You glanced at Aizen sitting at the top of the staircase, and you knew he was becoming impatient. 

I have to wrap this up.

The hollow hurled another cero at you and you dodged, and as he turned on his heels and attempted to run, you appeared in front of him in the blink of an eye. You reached out and jammed your hand into his chest. Blood splattered onto your skin as you watched it trickle onto the floor in front of him. You wanted it to be quick and somewhat painless, but now you shoved your arm into his chest and created a gaping hole to immobilize him.

“I… won’t,” he dropped to his knees his head hung low and blood sprouted from his mouth. His already ebony eyes turned darker, and more cold. You remove your hand. Your entire arm was drenched in his blood. You probably could've removed his heart, if you thought about it sooner. But jamming your arm back inside his chest didn't appeal to you. You didn't want to get his blood on you in the first place -- which was why you chose to use your cero. Yet, here you were, covered in blood and the sound of the young hollow cries.

Even on the verge of death, he begged for his fleeting life on a continuous loop. You couldn’t take this anymore. 

I’ll make it quick. You raised your arm above your head, ready to haul the cero. Just at that moment, the young hollow looked up at you-- wetness spilled down his purple cheeks, “my brother,” he cried in between a cascade of sobs. “What about my brother?”

Hearing that made you falter. But feeling Aizen’s gaze on you, made you quickly recover. You wouldn’t let him see your weakness. Aizen hated weakness; only seeing it as a hindrance. He’d kill you if he felt you were a burden. 

And you weren’t ready for your life to be snuffed out yet. The irony of the situation pained you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered so low you weren’t sure if it was for your ears or his. The empty holes of his mask widened as if he heard you, but you didn’t give him another chance to beg as you hauled the cero at him and watched his body ignite in flames. The reddish glow of the cero licked his skin, weaved into his screams, and sizzled until his existence was no more. 

The sickly sweet smell of death wafted throughout the room as the flames died, leaving an outline of his body coated in black residue on the floor. The excited crowd became hushed as the hollow's life force ceased to exist. 

You kept your back to the crowd and Aizen. You had to collect yourself, because, in all honesty, this was one of the most cruel things you had to do. His blood cooled on your skin. Your skin no longer felt warm from the cero. You glance over your shoulder to find Aizen gazing at you. His expression was unreadable. 

Shit. 

Was all you could think as you stepped over the lifeless remnants of the hollow you murdered and walked toward the large doors. With two hard knocks, the door creaked open and you exited the room. 

Chapter Text

You stood in the bathroom, gripping the edge of the porcelain sink—watching as the clear water disappeared down the drain. You loosen your grip and submerge your blood-stained hands under the water, watching the remnants of the hollow's life tarnish the white bowl as it runs down the drain. 

Aizen made you kill a hollow in front of everyone to prove a point. A point you are unsure of. Was it a reminder to those attending that his orders are absolute? That, if disobeyed or unsatisfactory, your life was forfeit. It was not the first time he demonstrated his authority, and it will not be the last. But it was the first time he forced you to carry out his dirty work in front of an audience. 

Under Aizen's rule, taking a life was nothing to you. He has sent you on countless assignments to quietly handle any situations he deemed problematic. It was practically embedded into your DNA. 

Obey.

Play your role.

Be unnoticeable.

All of it was necessary so that you could get closer to him. So that you can gain what you desire the most: your sister.

The nightmares that plagued you, drew you back to the time hollows stormed your home—ripping your family apart, and leaving behind a hauntingly bloody aftermath. You can see it so vividly: images of bodies strewn around and deserted among the wastes of Hueco Mundo; how the blood of so many hollows soaked into the dry sand, nourishing it enough for decades. 

But even so, you never saw her body. And that was the source of your determination. It stirred a small glimmer of hope that she escaped. 

That she was alive.

And he knew where she was. 

Because of that, you never complained. At least not excessively, nor to his face when it was time to carry out an order. You rationalized the carnage as a means to an end— compartmentalizing each death so that you could snuff out their life without a second thought. All so that you could breathe a little easier. But this one…

This one bothered you. 

It didn’t fit into one of your carefully constructed compartments. This hollow's death hung over you like a raincloud, dampening every excuse you could muster to fit it in a neat space in your psyche where it couldn’t leak out and affect you too much.

Please, please give me another chance. The cries of the hollow echoed in your head. I don’t want to die. I won’t do it again. Please, my Lord. 

Pathetic. 

Why would a hollow beg for its life? You weren’t granted the luxury of craving— of wanting to live. A prolonged life was considered a rarity. Things like peace or sanctuary did not grow from darkness. And all hollows were darkness. 

Empty.

You stare down at your hands speckled in blood. You grip the sink so tightly that the brown tips of your fingers begin to turn white, and the veins below your knuckles protrude from your flesh. Your vision blurred with an unfamiliar wetness. The bathroom, coated in thick, dewy steam from the running hot water, made the walls feel like they were closing in around you; it made you feel small--trapped. Your lungs felt thick, unable to expand. Every time you attempted to take in a deep breath, a noticeable pain throbbed in your chest. With each swallow, you felt a sensation similar to a thousand needles scratching the walls of your throat. 

The sound of the running water ranged in your ears like one of those god-awful clock towers the humans loved to put in the center of their communities. The sound of splashing water hitting the base of the sink and the gurgling of the blood-stained water going down the drain pierced your ears like the irksome clock bells. It unnerved you. Your guilt was tangible— rancid. You can taste its tartness on your tongue. It made you want to scream. But you couldn’t. You were too aware of the assembly of hollows just down the hall. 

“He should’ve died with dignity,” you whisper. 

Would you? A silent, haunting voice says in your head. Accused of not producing results. His life was forfeited on a whim. Seems excessive for one mistake.

He knew the consequences. You argue.

He was young. A new hollow. The voice countered. 

A very ignorant, hollow. You whisper back, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. 

And you? The voice challenged. 

You knew what the cynical voice implied; yet, you didn’t want to acknowledge it. You didn’t want to give credence to the prickling truth lying dormant in your subconscious. 

You look up from your damp hands. The blood was now gone, but you can still feel its warmth on your skin. You can feel the way his skin parted, his bones cracked as your fingers sunk into his chest. The soft, rhythmic pounding of his wet and slippery heart as it sat in your small palms, fighting to keep beating. His eyes, wide as saucers and pupils dilated to an unnatural size, staring at you—silently pleading for you to spare him. 

But you didn't. 

You ripped your hand from his chest and watched as his giant body collapsed onto the cold, colorless ground with a sickly thud. You watched as the light drained from his eyes. His chest was frozen in a concave state. You remember dark red pooling around his lifeless body and how it slowly seeped into the imperfections of the tile floor. You can still smell and taste death in the air— a nauseating blend of sickly sweet and metallic. You couldn’t erase the memory of his body, lit up in a pinkish orange glow when you hauled a cero at him—disintegrating his existence into ash. 

You can still hear the cheers from the excited crowd. They loved watching his fall. Their excitement scratched at your ears like nails on a chalkboard. You can still feel the acute awareness of Aizen’s eyes on you— burning through your flesh like an ironed brand. 

Yea, you washed the blood off your hands. But no matter how clean the water is or how much you scrub, he is still there— etched into your skin like an ancestral memory. 

You look up from the past that played out in the bowl of the sink, and you focus on the misted mirror hanging above. Deep, brown eyes stare back at you, and for a moment, you don’t recognize them as yours. It’s been so long since you’ve acknowledged the woman in the mirror.

You catalog your features— the curve of your nose, the subtle plump of your lips, the way your brows furrow over your eyes. Your attention rested on the faint lines at the corner of your eyes that softly jut out like a spider's web. They were noticeable on the rare occasion when you smiled, but otherwise smooth. They were new, only appearing in the last year or so. 

You take in the deep, velvety irises again. Once filled with happiness and hope, now stare back at you dull and defeated with an underlying current of pain… and fear. 

You raise a damp hand and pat the lines on your face. Your fingers trail down, meeting the deeper, more defined mark underneath your right eye. A scar—etched into your deep brown skin; a crack in your armor that shows how fragile you really were. So many memories. So much regret and anxiety rested in that long scar that reached from the inner corner of your eye, spreading across your cheek, making the skin look tight, until it disappeared under your ear—

“A mark of strength.” A low, familiar voice shakes you from the edge of a dark memory. You were so deep in your guilt that you hadn’t realized someone had entered the bathroom. It took you off guard— making you realize how unaware you were of your surroundings when you were spiraling. 

You have to work on that. 

You quickly put your hands down, fumbling with the knob of the faucet, attempting to turn off the incessant water. “That scar of yours. It’s one of my favorite things,” Aizen says. 

“You gave me this scar.” You say, keeping your back to him but watching him closely as your gazes lock in the mirror.

“Details,” he dismisses as he leans against the archway of the bathroom, arms crossed over his chest, giving the appeal of ease when he was anything but. “Besides, it wasn’t on purpose. I have apologized many times.”

“And each time you apologize, I can tell that you don’t mean it.”

“You’re right.”

Your brow ticks up—surprised that he admitted it.

“I’m not sorry for the reasons you may think.” Aizen steps into the bathroom and a soft click echoes in the room as he closes the door behind him. “I’m sorry for scaring up your face. I’m sorry for almost taking out one of your eyes.” Aizen lifts a hand until his long finger rests against his mouth. “Two features that I deeply enjoy looking at, mind you.” The corner of his mouth ticks up; you roll your eyes. “But every time I see your scar, it makes me feel…” he pauses, finger lightly tapping his mouth as he stares at you “ownership.”

“Because you own my soul, correct?”

“And body, and mind,” he lists.

This will go on forever. You change the subject.

“Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be out there forcing your minions to kill innocent hollows?”

“‘Innocent hollows?’” He repeats the words slowly as if they were the first time he’s ever said them. “ I never would have thought I’d hear those two words in the same sentence,” he drops his hand and stands up straight. “What makes you think it was so innocent?”

It. 

You stay quiet. You aren’t sure how you could answer his question. You knew that vouching for a hollow’s innocence…a monster in every sense of the word, was ironic, to say the least. You didn’t consider anyone in Las Noches innocent. Not yourself, nor the man that stood a few feet away from you. Still…

There was something that gnawed at you— spurring you to speak out of.…out of something.

“He was young,” you say unconvincingly.

“Old enough to kill and eat humans.”

“It was for survival.”

“And so was his end.” 

Aizen starts to move further into the bathroom. Each step was slow, and calculated until he stood directly behind you. The heat from his body radiates through your uniform. The reflection of his tall and wide frame fills the space of the narrow rectangle mirror in front of you.

“He made one mistake and you killed him for it.” 

“His mistake was a vital one.” He leans in, and you can feel his warm breath on your neck. “Do you see the flaws in your logic? A weak argument riddled with holes.” He reached forward, his finger grazed your wrist, and lightly trailed up your forearm. “Your merit for valuing one life over the other is only based on a preconceived construct that plagues the Soul Reapers and…” his brown irises stare intently at you in the mirror, “the humans.” 

His long fingers reach your elbow, leaving tiny chill bumps on your skin. Slowly, he trails his fingers back down until he reaches your hand and laces his fingers with yours. 

“If it bothers you that much, clearly, your humanity is still present.” Aizen leans over your shoulder while he lifts your twined fingers to his mouth, placing a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “I’ll fix it.”

You keep your expression neutral, ignoring the small flutter in the pit of your stomach as you watch him in the mirror. His comment on your humanity left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“My humanity is long gone. You made sure of it.” You pull your hand down breaking Aizen’s hold. “Life… including mine, doesn’t hold any value, and I’m not bothered by taking a one.”

Aizen chuckles softly, “Good girl.” Then he leans in, eyes still on yours as you watch him through the mirror, his mouth so close to your ear. “But you’re such a bad liar.”

“I’m not ly--”

“You seem to deeply cherish your life and the lives of those around you. Those you love.”

“I don’t…” For a moment, you look down. Your fingers tighten on the porcelain bowl. You take a deep breath, ignoring the pain in your chest. “I don’t have anyone left to love.”

“Really?” Aizen cocks his head to the side. “Could’ve fooled me.”

What does that mean?

You decide to ignore his remark. He always tries to get a rise out of you. Besides, there was a bigger question lingering between you. “I want to ask you something.”

“Two.”

“Huh?”

“You’re…” he shifts his weight behind you, briefly staring down at the bowl before continuing. “…curious. If I’m not careful, you’ll get me to admit things I don’t want to admit. Not right now, at least. You can only ask me two questions. Make them count.”

You didn’t hesitate. “If my logic is so flawed, then what about yours?” You keep your back to him, even as he places both arms outside of yours, caging you in. He was so close, you could feel the faint warmth of his breath with each exhale. “You seem to act without any rhyme or reason.”

“My reasons are my own, and they are not meant for others to understand.” He answers coolly.

“That…doesn’t make sense.” He was spewing nonsense. “Since you call yourself a King, wouldn’t it be beneficial for those you rule over to understand what is expected from them?” 

Aizen doesn’t speak for several moments, but his gaze never wavered from yours. Neither does yours. You stand your ground, refusing to show any glimmer of uncertainty to him. 

Eventually, he concedes.

“I’m not a King,” he says, he places his thumb against your hand slowly rubbing small circles on the back of it. “I am a God, and a God doesn’t have to explain his intentions, reasonings, or merits to anyone.” He leans in, his lips brushing your temple. “I am a full, perfect being without the need for direction. I don’t have a fear of mortality, the nuisance of regret, or the need to be understood. The faster you recognize that the better off you’ll be.”

“Which is why life holds no meaning?”

“Exactly.”

“Not even yours?” You challenge, and you see the corner of Aizen’s mouth rise into a small smirk.

“My existence is complete and cannot be snuffed out.” He presses his lips to your temple. “No matter how hard someone may try. Though, I do enjoy watching those who think they’re different and believe that they will succeed in killing me, go at it.” He gives you a pointed look. 

You stay silent. He presses another kiss to your temple. The gesture surprisingly gentle. 

“That’s four by the way.”

“Four?” You repeat, confused.

“Questions.” Aizen lightly grips your hand. “I only allowed two.” 

Oh. You weren’t sure why he let you continue, but the flutter in your stomach changed to an uncomfortable tightening that spurred a sense of unease. 

“I—”

“And you used this time to ask me questions about my ideals. I know you don’t care about that,” Aizen rests his other hand on your waist. “All irrelevant questions, yet your curiosity got the better of you. It is so easy to distract you.”

Aizen’s fingers spread on your waist while his other hand continues to rub small circles on the back of your hand. He steps into you, pressing his weight against your back. Your heart pounded in your chest as your stomach did cartwheels, unsure if you were afraid or…something else you weren’t ready to admit. 

“What do you really want to ask me?” He hums.

“Are you giving me a second chance?” You ask sardonically. “I asked my questions. I don’t have any—”

Aizen lips brush the outside of your ear, his gaze holding steady with yours in the mirror. “Liar.” 

You were lying, and it bothered you how well he knows you.

“Turn around,” Aizen says, his lips hovering at your ear. “I’ll answer one more question, but you have to turn around.” 

You hesitate. 

Keeping your back to him was a small act of defiance. As if you were subtly telling him that he wasn’t going to get your full attention. As childish as it sounds, it made you feel…strong. But now, he challenged your defiance by bargaining with information, and your need to know gnawed at you. Slowly, you release the cool porcelain bowl and turn to face him. 

You ignore the slight increase of your pounding heart. You ignore the way your breath hitched in anticipation. You ignore the swoop of your belly when you finally face him, his brown eyes gazing intensely at you; a small flicker of heat reflected in them.

Instead, you focused on your slow-building anger from earlier— the anger that spurred from being used as a spectacle to prove whatever point Aizen felt he needed to make. You focus on your guilt. For the hollow? For your crumbling resolve? You weren’t sure.

Still.

You watch as Aizen leans into you, ready to claim your mouth, but your anxiety spills over. 

“My question," you place your hands on his chest, feeling his warmth beneath his white shirt; his heart beating steadily under your fingers briefly reminding you that he is living— he has a beating heart. He can bleed. 

He can die. 

You push him back until his eyes are level with yours. “Why’d you make me kill him?”

Aizen watches you for a moment before answering. “To prove a point.” 

“I know that. But why me specifically? You’ve never…” your voice trails off for a second. Your chest tightened as the memory of the hollow's death flashed in your mind. “You’ve never asked me to do that in front of people.”

Aizen lets out a long sigh as he releases your waist and places both hands on the porcelain sink, once again caging you in. He hangs his head, his brown hair tumbling to the front of his face. He peeks up at your through full lashes 

“Because…” he pauses for a moment. “It was a reminder of the hierarchy.” 

“Hierarchy?”

“Yes.” 

You don’t understand, so you press further. 

“You mean…to show how final your orders are? To show how I, and the others, are your weapons? To remind them how fragile their lives are under your reign?” You list, waiting for him to confirm what you’ve already suspected.

“Yes.” He places his forehead against yours; his soft hair tickling your skin. “But you’ve forgotten the most important reason…” quick and stealthy, Aizen grips the back of your nape. You didn’t see it when he moved, but the feel of his finger teasing the sensitive spot at the edge of your hair awakened a soft throbbing below. “I want everyone present to understand their place.” He strokes your skin and you suppress a shiver. “Their place under me and those I choose to have by my side.”

He pulls you into him. 

“Nine questions.” He murmurs, his lips a whisper away from yours. “You have no self-control.” He releases your nape and slowly curls his fingers around the front of your throat. You swallow thickly, and Aizen tracks the moment. His thumb, which rested in the column of your throat lightly traced the path of the saliva, resting at the hollow point where your throat was the softest. His eyes slowly meet yours. His usual carefully veiled need was now unmasked. You could see the darkness reflected in his stare. It made his brown eyes look lighter like they were burning. 

“My patience should be rewarded…” he presses his thumb into your neck. Your fingers curl against his chest—tight balls of fist as a barrier to keep him from coming closer. Your heart pounded, ringing in your ears as your body and mind fought for dominance.

You were tense. But you couldn’t ignore the warm curling in your belly. Your arms were stiff against him, stuck in an unmoving bend. It kept him from getting closer, but not far away to not affect you the way that he did. Your eyes burned as you kept your gaze forward and impassive in an attempt to ignore the way your chest tightened, but your face felt warm. You curled your hands into a tight fist in an attempt to stop yourself from slipping your finger between the open wing of his shirt— caressing the peek of pale skin that rest between the opening. You tried to ignore the fear and… excitement you felt when Aizen pressed his thumb into your throat causing a stark pain to vibrate through you. Your lips parted. Your tongue caressed your bottom lip, moistening the dry skin. 

Aizen tracked the movement with steely focus, “…Do you agree?”

For a second, you forgot what Aizen was referring to. You were too distracted. Obnoxiously hyperaware of his long fingers curling around your throat. 

“I…” your heart was racing, and sweat prickled at your hairline. Your body hummed with a soft, throbbing below that grew each time Aizen stroked your skin. You loathe how you responded to him. Your mind fought against this primal need to have him… You did not want him. You knew that. You despise him. 

His touch did nothing for you.

His words didn’t affect you.

His hold over you was due to his strength… and nothing else. 

Yet what came out of your mouth was none of that. “Uh… sure,” you say lamely.

Aizen steps closer to you, his lips hovering over yours but he doesn’t kiss you. Instead, he watches you. His fingers tighten around your throat, while his other hand idly explores your body. Brushing your sides as it trailers lower, gently caressing your waist, until it rests against the bare skin on your thigh—just beneath the hem of your skirt. His fingers rub circles on your skin as he cups your chin and lifts it until you're eye to eye; the tips of your braids brush the lower part of your back as your head tilts back. 

“I can see the the hatred in your eyes,” he says. “But at the same time, I can feel how you respond to me when I touch you.” He rubs a thumb across your lips. “Which is it, Y/N?” 

You don’t answer, glancing past him at the door of the bathroom. You notice that it is slightly ajar. 

I thought he locked it. 

A sudden wave of fear washes over you like an ice bath. Your mind reeled with the fact that someone possibly saw you with him…like this. And, if the door was open, who was watching you?

Aizen must’ve noticed the innate anxiety on your face because he looks over his shoulder at the open door.

A low laugh rumbles through him. “It looks like I’ve made my point,” he says.

You tear your gaze from the door and stare at him. “What point?” You asked confused.

Aizen straightens up, dropping his hands from your lips and stepping back, his warmth immediately replaced by a cold chill. You cross your arms over your chest to stifle a shudder.  

“As much as I want to claim that reward…” he fixes his hair and slips his hands into his pocket. “You’ll have to wait,” he gives you an arrogant smirk.

You ignore the wave of…of relief? Disappointment? That coursed through you as you stepped away from the sink. 

“Anyway, you do have a job to do, and I expect nothing but positive results,” Aizen walks towards the door. You stayed quiet. His unspoken threat hung over you.

Produce results or forfeit your life. Says the small voice in your head. 

Aizen pulls the door open, and you can hear the muffled chatter of hollows down the hall. He hesitates a moment before crossing the threshold. Without turning to face you, he says “I still expect an answer, Y/N. I’ll give you time.” 

Then he crosses the threshold and heads down the hall to the muffled noise, leaving you in the bathroom.

Chapter Text

It looks like I’ve made my point.

Aizen’s words rattled in your mind like a snake as you made your way down the hall back to your room. You couldn’t stop thinking about it—or him—or the whole situation in the bathroom, the council, all of it. So much had happened tonight, and you just felt wide awake but exhausted at the same time. 

What did he mean? You round a corner of stone columns, seeing the door to your room in the distance. Who was watching us? 

Both questions unsettled you. The fact that Aizen manipulated the situation earlier, and you were unaware. And, whatever his reasonings for doing so, he was successful—because whoever he wanted to catch you together--did. 

You clenched your fist and sped your pace as if trying to outrun the memory. Embarrassment made your chest tighten. Aizen was always, always one step ahead of you. He was constantly plotting, thinking, and creating opportunities that allowed him to succeed. Nobody knew what he was thinking until he was ready to tell you, and… that bothered you. 

You stopped in front of the double doors of your bedroom, hesitating to go in. You felt too many emotions, and they were everywhere. The thought of returning to your room felt stifling and unwelcoming—you didn’t want to sit alone and ruminate over the emotion you tried so hard to ignore: fear.

Fear of the future. Fear for…everything. Starting with your mission to the human world and Aizen’s expectations looming over you, the unspoken understanding that your life subsequently hung in limbo. You just needed a moment to breathe-- to think. 

You turn on your heels and head in the opposite direction, making a sharp turn at the first corner. You weren’t sure where you were going but kept moving forward. You needed to get away from here. You felt a breeze on your face; your legs burned. You hadn’t realized you were running. You were running away from the bright, sterile light, the alabaster walls, your emotions, and yourself. When you headed to your room, you felt the walls encroaching on you, and you weren’t sure if you could take another night in there — awake in the darkness,  reminiscing about everything that happened today. 

So you ran. 

And ran.

You ran until your legs shook, and you didn’t stop until your blood was pumping loudly in your ears. Until the empty vast of Hueco Mundo loomed in the distance. You stood at the edge of Las Noches, wondering if you should cross and try your luck out there. Your fingers twitched with indecision; your heart, mind, and instincts were at odds. But…

It wasn’t time. Not yet. 

Sighing, you stayed stuck for a while longer and watched the looming darkness in the distance. There was something calming about its vastness. You weren’t sure how long you stayed outside, but when your teeth began to chatter, and your lips chapped, you knew it was time to go back. You gave the vastness one more look of longing before receding the Las Noches threshold and returning to your living nightmare.

——————————

You weren’t sure what part of the massive building you ended up in; all you knew was that you were lost. 

“What is this place?” You huffed as you rounded yet another stoned statue of some humanoid creature. This area seemed to be a storage space that only housed statues. They were mix-matched, resembling both human and hollow. Shattered light peeked in from the hallway, making the statues look ominous in the darkened room. The beaded eyes of the creatures seemed to follow you throughout the room, and you couldn’t help but have your guard up, entirely on alert— expecting one of the freakish molds to come alive and attack you. You followed the shattered light until you could make your way into a hallway.

The halls weren’t as pristine as the rest of Las Noches. Tinges of brown stained the walls, and the floors were covered in a faint coat of sand from the outside. There was framed art on the walls, though cracked with peeled paint; rusted candelabras hung on the wall alight with a dim flame; it dawned on you that this was one of the older wings of Las Noches. It held the remnants of a time before Aizen claimed it as his. It was eerily quiet, as this wing didn’t garner a lot of foot traffic. It was forgotten, and for a brief moment, you wondered what happened to the Aarancars and Espadas who lived here before.

You kept walking, hoping to find something familiar, but the hall stretched until you reached a fork at the end. The left side was shrouded in darkness, but the right side had the same scattered lightning as the hall you were in, so you decided to go right. The deafening quiet followed you. Golden light from the candelabras on the wall flickered incessantly, and for a moment, you wondered who lit them— that nagging curiosity of life before came to the forefront of your mind.

Who lived in this wing to keep the light going? 

You kept walking until you saw that the hallway turned up ahead. As you approached the end, preparing to turn the corner, a voice startled you, making you slow your pace. 

“I knew you missed me.” 

A soft feminine voice sounded in the distance. It was the first noise you had heard since entering this forgotten wing. 

“Always playing hard to get, yet here you are calling me up again.” You slowed to a stop as you neared a corner. She was barely audible, but the recognition still dawned on you. She was one of the lower-ranked Aarrancars, closer to a servant than a ranked fighter. You didn't need to see her face; you knew who she was.

You were rooted in place, frozen, and unsure what to do. Embarrassment slowly crept over you as you realized you didn’t want to see what she was doing. Slowly, you stepped back, deciding to retreat and find another way out of this wing. But then you heard his voice.

“Don’t get full of yourself,” he grunts. “You were available.” 

You couldn’t believe it. It was Grimmjow. You’d recognize his voice from anywhere. Curiosity replaced your need to escape, and then you found yourself creeping down the hall towards the soft, muffled sounds. 

You crept to the end of the hall and rounded a corner. That’s when you saw them—tucked away in an alcove on the far left side of the short hall. They were shrouded in shadows, but the dim light illuminated them enough that you couldn’t mistake what you saw. She kneeled in front of Grimmjow, nestled between his thighs as he stood against the wall, his face tilted up, and eyes closed. Her long, wavy brown hair cascaded down her back, her standard white uniform iridescent in the dim light. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “You called me because I can make you cum.” You heard the sound of fabric rustling. “Now, let me hear you moan...”

You held your breath, listened closely, and watched. You felt as if you couldn’t move or look away—mesmerized by the scene before you. 

You watched as her head moved up and down, and her hands gripped his thighs, fingers sinking into the thick, muscled flesh. Light-sucking noises and her moans echoed around the quiet space. You slid your eyes up Grimmjow’s broad frame — taking in his muscles, the way his abs contracted every time his hips moved, his skin shiny with sweat, and the way his teeth sank into his bottom lip as his head tilted back, eyes closed, and fingers threaded into her wavy, thick hair. His large hands palmed the back of her head, guiding her up and down his cock. He groaned, and you couldn’t help but cross your legs as you watched him— ignoring the heat that flooded through you. It was… something, seeing him so unguarded, so… riddled with pleasure that he hadn’t noticed he was being watched. 

You watched as the muscles in his forearm flexed, his fingers tightened, and his hips thrust forward, burrowing his cock deep into her mouth. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him—especially his face. You watched as his body shook each time a deep moan rumbled through him. His hair had fallen forward, and now strands stuck to his forehead. His teeth released their hold on his plumped lip and parted slightly as he brought her head down on him again and again.

Your heart thudded faster, your breath came quickly, and you were…excited seeing him so vulnerable. You could tell that he liked it. He liked it very much; a slight pang of…something made your chest tight. The woman moaned again, drawing your attention from Grimmjow down to her as you watched her take his cock deeper. She was also enjoying it. 

Your gaze traveled back up Grimmjow’s body, back to his face, only to find him staring at you. His intense gaze pinned you in place, and you felt your body tense. You couldn’t look away, even as shame built inside of you. Grimmjow held your gaze as he pumped his hips faster. His fingers tightened in her hair, her moans grew louder and louder, and your breath quickened as you watched him fuck her. 

You couldn’t believe you were watching this. You couldn’t believe he was watching you. His blue eyes never wavered from yours— and every time he thrust his hips, you felt a soft throbbing below.

“Ah, fuck,” he groaned as he pumped his hips faster. You sunk your teeth into your lip and curled your hands into fists as you resisted the urge to touch yourself. What the hell am I doing? 

Hesitantly, you took a step back, a half-hearted attempt to leave, but hearing Grimmjow hiss as his breath quickened—his pants becoming more desperate and louder as he neared his release; you once again found yourself unable to move. 

You watched him cum. 

The forgotten woman’s moans, mingled with his heavy panting, made you shudder with…want.

“It’s rude to stare, ya’ know?” The corners of his mouth curl into a smile as you realize his eyes are still pinned on you. 

As if the spell was broken, you felt your limbs come alive like an electric shock coursed through them. You were free to move, and as if on cue, you turned around and started walking back the way you came. 

You moved quickly, not quite a run because you didn’t want Grimmjow to know how ashamed you felt, but you moved fast enough that the brown-tinged walls blurred around you.

Shit. 

You cursed yourself as you moved forward. You still didn’t know where you were going. What in the hell was I thinking?

You were about to turn another corner when a force pulled you back, stopping you mid-step. “Caught you.”

You turned around to see Grimmjow standing behind you. He had a wide grin on his face and disheveled hair. He rested a hand on your shoulder as he leaned forward, his face inches from yours. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“I was just heading back to my room,” you said, shaking his hand off of you. 

“Is that right?” He positioned himself in front of you, blocking your way. “Then you’re going the wrong way. Your place is on the other side of the building.” He leaned forward, strands of blue hair framed his angular face. You could see a light gleam of sweat on his forehead. “Don’t tell me you came all this way to find me?”

“No.” You pushed past him and continued forward. “I came here because I need a break. Running into you was purely coincidental.”

You hear him laugh as he falls into step beside you. “Mmm. So tell me, where are we going?”

“We aren’t going anywhere.” As you approached the end of the hall, you realized it was a dead end. 

“I guess you’re right. We aren’t going anywhere, considering this is a dead end.” You can feel his stare bore into the side of your face. Your face heats up as you try to fight off the embarrassment. Grimmjow reached forward and tugged on your hand, pulling you back towards the way you came. 

“Should’ve just said you needed help.” He released your hand, and you both started walking down the hall. You let him lead you—he obviously knew where he was going. Silence blanketed you both as you continued down the hall. You weren’t sure of what to say. It was odd walking with him after everything that happened. You two haven’t spoken in a while, he blatantly ignored you during the council, and you just caught him getting a blowjob in a random hallway. There was so much to process. 

Still, the silence felt stifling.

“So—”

“Did you enjoy it?”

His sudden question surprised you; you weren’t sure what he was talking about.

“Enjoy it?” You felt your nerves ignite inside of you. Grimmjow slowed to a stop, and you followed his lead. You both faced each other in the empty hall. He looked at you intently. His blue eyes roamed your face, lingering at your scar before settling on your eyes. The air felt charged—serious. 

“The show.”

“Huh?”

He cocked his head to the side, a slow grin breaking across his angular features. You can see a hint of his elongated canine in his grin.

“Did. You. Enjoy. The. Show?” He repeated slowly. “I mean, you watched the whole thing, yea? I’m sure you enjoyed it.” His voice dropped an octave. “Tell me… how wet did you get watching me fuck her?”

“W-what? I—“

“Hmm, I didn’t think you’d be into voyeurism. It’s a nice surprise,” he leaned in close. “If you wanted a taste, all you had to do was ask.”

Reality snapped into place around you, and before you realized what you were doing, you hooked your arm back and brought it forward—smacking him clear across the face. “Fuck you, Grimm.”

You pushed past him to continue down the hall. You could hear him laughing, the sound getting nearer until he appeared at your side again.

“It’s been a while since I’ve earned one of your slaps,” he gave you a lopsided grin, a hint of sharp teeth showing. “Did I offend your law-abiding sensibilities?” 

“Law-abiding?” You scoffed. You both turn another corner and finally make it out of the dingy hallway and into the pristine, remodeled Las Noches. It was still unfamiliar territory. Large columns adorned the long hall, and newer statues rested between them. Small alcoves with sitting areas appeared occasionally, hidden behind the column that didn’t have a statue resting next to it. Still, everything was white, sterile, and uncomfortable. “Hardly.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” You glanced at him and noticed that he stared straight ahead. His hands were in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, but his face was tense.

“What do you mean by that?” 

He peered at you but quickly shifted his gaze forward again. The air was suddenly tense and uncomfortable—even after the slap.

“Well… You’re a model Espada. The rule follower. The good girl,” he ran his fingers through his hair—which you noticed he did whenever he was uncomfortable. “It’s why you’re Aizen’s right hand. Why you’re always by his side. You’re loyal to him. You’re…good.”

“I’m not that loyal or good.” 

“Hm,” Grimmjow looked at you for a long moment before continuing. “You’re strong and thorough. You don’t make mistakes—“

“What’s with all of the compliments?” You teased, feeling uncomfortable hearing him talk about you like this.

“I’m being serious. No wonder he chose you. It makes sense,” he turned away from you, and you both walked in silence for a moment before Grimmjow spoke again.

“I would choose you too.”

You stayed quiet, unsure of what to say. You didn’t want to ruin this rare moment of vulnerability from him. He was always so arrogant, so sure of himself, and so ready to take on anything head-first. You didn’t know how to respond to his serious and calm nature, so you waited for him to continue. 

He didn’t.

“Since we’re being honest, why did you ignore me earlier?”  

Grimmjow stopped walking. He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, exhaling a long sigh. 

“The rumors.” 

“The.. rumors?” You repeated, confused. 

“Everything I said to you was the truth, but the rumors going around are…” he paused, staring at the bright light. You could see his jaw tic as if he was fighting against the urge to say what he wanted out loud or to keep it to himself. Grimmjow looked down and pinned you with an intense stare; his mouth parted, ready to tell you something, but the sound of voices filtered through the tense moment, breaking its spell and grabbing both of your attention. 

Grimmjow moved faster than you. He grabbed your arm and pulled you into one of the alcoves in the hallway.

“Hey—” you started to protest, but you couldn’t get anything out before Grimmjow had you pressed against the cool wall; one hand covered your mouth as he peeked around the corner. You reached up and grabbed his forearm to pull it away from your mouth, but he wouldn’t budge. Grimmjow turned back to you and leaned close—his lips hovered at your ear.

“I hear Gin.” 

The mention of that name ignited a rage inside of you that could rival an inferno. The intense dislike for him was deeply embedded into your core, and you itched for the opportunity to end his life. Grimmjow must’ve seen the disdain in your eyes because a cruel smile broke across his lips, and he leaned forward again. 

“That killer spark in your eyes is…something.” His warm breath brushed across your ear and made you shiver. You tightened your fingers on his arm and attempted to pull again. “I’m not letting you go.. so be a good girl for me. Stay still and listen.”

You didn’t want to. You wanted to go back into the hall and confront Gin. The anger from his words early lingered on your skin like a scab—but Grimmjow wouldn’t let you. 

“Y/n.” The way he said your name almost made your knees buckle. “Not right now.” He pulled back and stared at you. He lifted a finger and pursed his lips, telling you to stay quiet. 

Eventually, you conceded and gave him a nod. Grimmjow hesitated a moment before removing his hand from your mouth.

“Who would’ve thought I’d be the calm one?” He stayed pressed against you, his leg between your thighs, his arm pressed against the wall near your head, caging you in. But you tried not to think about how close he was. You tried to peer around the corner, but Grimmjow wouldn’t let you. 

Voices filtered toward you, and you held your breath as you listened to Gin. You couldn’t make out the other voice, though.

“His name is Urahara Kisuke, and he runs a shop in the human world. He was the creator of the Hōgyoku and he’s one of the only men who rivaled Lord Aizen in intelligence and skill. Needless to say, he is one of the major threats for his plans,” said Gin.

“I see. So you want me to go to the human world, find him, and eliminate him?” The other voice asked.

“You wouldn’t be able to eliminate him if you tried. I just want you to go to the world of the living and keep an eye on him. Send the reports to me.” 

“You, sir? Not Lord Aizen?” 

“I’m in charge of the recon,” Gin said, his voice tight. “Send everything to me and keep quiet about this mission. If there’s a leak, you can compensate with your life.” 

There was a long pause before the unknown voice spoke again, “Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’m glad we have an understanding,” Gin said in that condescendingly cheerful voice. “There is an intel mission tomorrow, you can leave shortly after them. We don’t need too many gates opening between the worlds. Lord Aizen monitors them.”

“Yes, sir.”

Silence again. You could hear your heart pounding and wondered if Grimmjow could, too. He was pressed so close to you that you could feel the slight rise and fall of his chest and his warm breath lightly grazing your forehead. The heat radiating from his body made you feel a comfort you hadn’t felt in a while… and it scared you. Before your mind could wander into dangerous territory that would cause you to question the feelings that stirred within you whenever Grimmjow was around, he moved back, uncaging you from the wall.

“They’re gone,” he said.

You stepped out of the alcove and peered down the hall. It was just you and Grimmjow once again. You turned to him.

“Why did we hide?” 

“I was curious about why he was in this wing.” Grimmjow started walking again, and you fell into step beside him. “Sounds like he has a bone to pick with someone in the human world.” 

He was right. It was odd that Gin was conducting his own mission without Aizen’s knowledge. This made you curious about the person who created the Hōgyoku, this Urahara, who was deemed a threat to Aizen. It made you even more curious as to why Gin wanted to keep an eye on him.

Of course, you didn’t share any of this with Grimmjow. So you only said, “You’re right,” as you both approached a set of doors. When Grimmjow opened then, you both entered into the east wing, the side where your room was. You both walked the remaining distance in silence—deep in thought. You hadn’t noticed you were at your door until Grimmjow announced it.

“You’re home,” he said as you both stood outside your door. You didn’t say anything; you just lingered a moment as the feeling of dread seeped into your bones again. But this time, you couldn’t run. You had to go inside and deal with all of your thoughts.

“Thanks,” was all you said as you twisted the knob and went inside, closing the door on Grimmjow. The room was shrouded in darkness, with a chill that made you uneasy. You walked to the expansive floor-to-ceiling window and peered at the crescent moon in the sky. Everything you tried to keep buried throughout the day came crashing down on you. Loneliness and fear settled in the pit of your stomach like a rock as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

You knew you weren’t going to get any sleep tonight. 

—————————

The large black portal opened before you, and you stepped through. Chill bumps coated your arms as you stood on a cloud of energy. Your hand rested on the hilt of your zanpakutō. Your emotions were locked away, and you had only one thing on your mind: results. 

You felt Ulquiorra appear beside you, and you turned to him. He wasn’t looking at you; he stared straight ahead as he spoke. “Are you clear on our target?” He asked, and you nodded. “Good. Let’s get started.”

He started forward, and you followed behind.

Your mission to the human world has begun.

Chapter Text

You never liked visiting the human world. 

It was loud, overcrowded, and had a mixture of weird, off-putting smells. It made you nauseous, and humans made you nervous. They were unpredictable-- emotional, small, and volatile. You didn’t feel any particular kinship to them nor a desire to kill or save them. They were just another facet of life, another notch on the chain of life and death. Still, you hated visiting the human world and having to make contact with them.You could feel the anxiety bubble inside of you as you made your way through the black portal with Ulqiourra—

“How much longer will it take!” Yammy’s boisterous voice broke through your internal thoughts like a crowbar. 

Right.

You were with Ulqiourra and Yammy. 

The burly Espada decided to join you both on your mission to the human world. Join was a kinder way of saying that he intruded on your mission, and Ulqiourra wasn’t happy about it. Neither were you. 

“Quiet, Yammy,” Ulqiourra said, not breaking his stride as he advanced towards nothingness; the blackness of the portal seemed to stretch on with only a slight hum over Yammy’s blabbering. You kept quiet and followed him, feeling Yammy’s large presence behind you. 

“But Ulqiourra, we’ve been walking for a long time—“

“Nobody asked you to come.” Ulqiourra interrupted. Yammy grunts, appearing beside you. You kept your gaze forward in an attempt to ignore him—which was impossible considering his immense frame and boisterous voice. 

“He’s always got a stick up his ass,” Yammy huffed. His large hand clamped your shoulder, and you stiffened. You didn’t like when people touched you without your consent, and Yammy had a habit of invading your personal space. The loud, noisy, and arrogant Hollow didn’t know how to read a room, as the humans say. And he often found himself on the biting end of Ulqiourra’s wrath. 

The two bickered, and you ignored them, your mind returning to the events of the night before: you and Grimmjow, Gin and the mysterious Hollow, the man known as “Urahara Kisuke,” the creator of the Hōgyoku, Gins’s interest in him. 

And why was he hiding it from Aizen. 

None of this involved you. You only wanted to find your sister and hopefully flee Las Noches with her, but something about this situation drew you in. It made you curious. Who is Urahara Kisuke? Is he really someone just as shrewd as Aizen? Was he someone Aizen felt threatened by? And, if he was, that… could work to your advantage. 

Suddenly, you weren’t too concerned with your mission. With Ulquiorra here, you knew he’d sniff out the Kurosaki kid with no issue. Honestly, you weren’t even sure why you were sent to the World of the Living after Aizen decided to send Ulquiorra with you. It seemed pointless. 

What drew your attention was finding Urahara. 

What made you hesitate was the potential consequences it would have on your life. 

“Finally!” Yammy’s boisterous voice pulled you from your thoughts. “I see light. Are we here, Ulqiourra?”

“Yes, Yammy. We have arrived.”

A small orb of light pierced the darkness ahead and grew larger and more blinding as you approached. The soft hum of the void began to dissipate, replaced by sounds of human life: the motor of metal contraptions, the shrill yells of children, the chirping of birds, and the rattling of insects. You could even smell the Earth as you approached the light— a warm, dewy scent. As you stepped out of the void, the sun sat high above, surrounded by a brilliant blue with thin whips of clouds scattered in the sky. That was the one thing you did like about the World of the Living. Their sky was bright—inviting. The humans weren’t shrouded in darkness at all times. You liked the feel of the sun on your skin. You liked the different weather. You liked the change from night to day. 

“Look at that,” Yammy said, drawing your attention to him. All three of you stood suspended in mid-air— using the combined energy of air particles and loose reaitsu that existed naturally— especially in a condensed space of beings with spiritual energy. Karakura town was known for its abnormal number of humans with spiritual energy, making it a hot spot for Hollows to go hunting. It also made it easier for Espada, and even high-ranking Soul Reapers, to exist comfortably without disrupting time and space for simply existing. Yammy stood a few feet from you, arms crossed over his broad chest, peering below with a disgusted frown, “So many ants.” 

You followed his gaze. The ants below were actually humans—dotting the green and brown ground. It looked like you were in the middle of a forest with an open field. Trees surrounded the perimeter, and humans congregated sporadically in the open space. Many were moving about, living their blissfully ignorant lives without the slightest clue that three dangerous monsters stood above them, watching.

“Hey Ulquiorra, is the guy we’re looking for down there?” 

Of course he’s not, idiot. 

If he were here, he’d have already attacked us. Still, you quickly scanned the ground for an orange-haired Soul Reaper with high spiritual energy. 

“No, Yammy,” Ulquiorra said exasperated. “Use your head, do you think he’d really be down there with us just standing here?”

For once, you and Ulquiorra agreed on something.

“We’ll have to force him out—make him come to us.” 

“Really?” A wide grin spreads across Yammy’s face as he glances between you and Ulquiorra. “You’re saying I can make a scene?” 

Ulquiorra pinched the bridge of his nose before answering, “That’s why you’re here, right?”

“I thought I wasn’t invited.”

“You weren’t. But since you are here, do what you do best,” Ulquiorra removed his hand from his nose and glanced at the humans below. “Make a scene.”

And just like a guard dog, Yammy descended the sky at a shocking speed. Sometimes, you forget how fast he was given his enormous size—nevertheless, he was an Espada, and what he lacked in brains, he surely made up for with brawn. Yammy landed on the Earth’s ground with a loud thud that kicked up so much dirt it blocked your view from above. No doubt his landing shook the Earth with its impact. You and Uquiorra stood above him, watching the spectacle.

“Should we join him?” You asked Ulquiorra, who stood a few paces in front of you. The copious amount of dust started to clear slowly, creating a sliver of space where you could see some of the damage Yammy had caused. A giant crater was in the middle of the field; his thunderous impact caused the Earth to cave in on itself. The dust dissipated a little more, revealing Yammy, who, even though several feet below you, still looked huge, nestled in the center of his crater. Humans were littered around him; some lay unmoving on the ground, probably hit by the brunt of his landing, while others surrounded him in a half-moon. You could feel their curiosity from where you stood above them; you could also feel their fear. Even though they couldn’t see Yammy, their instincts told them that danger was near. 

“What was that?” One of the humans asked.

“I don’t know, it felt like an explosion!”

“Maybe we should call the police? There could be a leak underground.”

Humans were interesting creatures. They always managed to morph an unexplainable phenomenon to match their reality. It was fascinating and naive, and a small part of you pitied them for not knowing their deaths were so close.

“Eh,” Yammy’s booming voice slithered up to you and Ulquiorra like a violent sound wave. “They keep staring at me, Ulquiorra,” he complained. Without saying a word, Ulquiorra descended towards the ground.

“So we are lending a hand,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. You were vexed, remembering that he had never responded to your question earlier, and he still hadn’t responded now. 

“You caused a giant explosion, Yammy. Exactly what I asked for. Of course they would stare.”

“It’s pissing me off,” Yammy said, agitation evident in his voice. “They’re all judging me. All of them. Look at their puny faces and beady eyes.”

“They can’t even see you,” you said, eyeing the humans below. “They’re just humans being curious. Nothing more.”

“‘Still don’t like it,” Yammy barked. “I’ll show them not to look down on me.” Before you could say anything else, Yammy puffed out his cheeks and began to suck the souls out of each human that came near his crater. Their bodies dropped like lumps of coal in the aftermath. It happened so fast that you knew the humans didn’t know what had hit them before they succumbed to death. In a matter of seconds, Yammy claimed sixty human lives. 

“Well, that’s one way to bring the Kurosaki kid to us—” A sudden shift in the air drew your attention. It was subtle, barely anything to pay attention to, yet you zeroed in on it. Glancing around, you didn’t see anything unusual but could feel a new presence nearby—one similar to yours, one that felt…familiar. 

“What’s the matter?” Ulquiorra asked. 

Huh? You glanced down at Ulquiorra, his gaze cutting up at you. Did he not notice that another like us was here? For the most part, his face was always impassive—nearly impossible to gauge what he was thinking—but this time, his gaze felt heavier, as if he watched you apprehensively. As if he…

“Nothing,” you faltered, unease coiling through you as you tried to place the source of your discomfort. “I…I just thought I felt something,” which wasn’t a complete lie. You left out the part where you recognized the spiritual energy belonging to the mysterious Hollow that was with Gin last night. He followed you to the World of the Living, and now that he was here, you could not contain your curiosity. You wanted to find him. You glanced at Ulquiorra, who was still watching you silently; that peculiar look still shone in his eyes. 

“I’m going to check it out,” you said, turning on your heels and preparing to take off toward the disturbance. 

“Y/N,” Ulquiorra’s voice sliced through you like a freshly sharpened Zanpakutō. “Don’t forget why we are here.” 

You glanced over your shoulder, looking down at him. He was fully facing you now, standing with his hands in his pockets, his gaze stone—not giving any indication of what he was thinking. Yet, what he said next made you think that he suspected you to be up to no good. “We have orders. Absolute orders,” he said, gracefully stepping out of Yammy’s uneven crater. The giant Hollow was quiet for once, gazing up at you with a grimace.

“I know that—” 

“If you know, then I’m sure you’re well aware that Lord Aizen wouldn’t take kindly to you abandoning his absolute orders.”

You bristled at Ulquiorra’s accusation. “I’m not abandoning them.”

“Then don’t change the plan.” 

“Does it matter?” You fixed your stare, turning to face both of them head-on. You’d be damned if they felt they could intimidate you. “The kid isn’t even here. Besides…” You lowered your voice an octave, hoping it held every bit of malice you felt. “I’d be careful with how you speak to me, Ulquiorra. As someone with a higher rank, I don’t have to answer to you.” 

You both stared at each other in silence—waiting for the other to make a move. Despite the warmth of the sun and the gentle breeze, a chill ran up your spine. It was as if everything had gone mute, and you were hyper-aware of your breathing and the loud pounding of your heart. Still, you were pretty sure Ulquiorra wouldn’t attack you without Aizen’s official order; he kept Yammy on a tight leash, so you felt the same applied to Yammy. The boorish beast wouldn’t lay a finger on you unless he said so. 

Now, disinterested in the conversation and to show that you weren’t affected by him, you turned on your heels, ready to take off after the Hollow. 

“Just remember,” Ulquiorra finally spoke, making you halter mid-step. “You may not have to answer to me, but you do have to answer to Lord Aizen.” 

Don’t remind me.

You peered at Ulquiorra. He hadn’t moved from his spot, but now he held a finger up, slightly tapping the corner of his eye. “And between you and me, whose word do you think holds more weight?” 

The one who is fucking him. You thought, but honestly, you weren’t sure if that was true. Considering that Aizen said, many times, that he didn’t trust you—not even in the slightest, and it wasn’t like you gave him room to trust you, you weren’t sure if your word held sway over him as much as Ulquiorra’s. Nevertheless, you were done with this conversation. 

So, once again, you turned, ignoring him, and used your sonído to disappear, heading toward the mysterious presence.

————————

It didn’t take long to find the portal or the Hollow. 

In fact, it was slopingly easy. 

You couldn’t believe that this was the one chosen to do an intel mission for Gin when he couldn’t even cover his tracks—even knowing that several high-ranking Espada were going to be near.

Amateur. 

One thing he did well was dull his presence enough that you couldn’t pinpoint his exact location—only the area. So when you got near the closed portal, you stood above a neighborhood, unsure where to go next. Opening your pesquisa, you decided to hyper-focus on pinpointing his exact location through his reaitsu, which proved tedious because you had to sift through all of the weaker spiritual energy. 

This guy was smart. He dulled his energy enough to match the humans around him. Still, it only took a few minutes before you latched onto his. It was stronger than the humans and unsteady, indicating he intentionally tried to manipulate it. But it disappeared before you could figure out where he was, blending in with the human energy around him.

You surveyed the area below. The humans carried on with their lives, unaware of you lurking from above. You focused on the miniature humans running around with tiny bags on their backs—their yells raising like smoke to you. Larger humans trailed behind them, slower, seemingly exhausted. A satisfying scent of salt from the nearby ocean capitivated you. You relished in the warmth of the blazing sun on your skin. And you didn’t know why, but the gentle breeze surrounding you made you feel calm as you stood suspended in the air. 

You tipped your head back, eyes closed, and let the elements consume you. You were… at peace. 

Maybe the human world isn’t so bad—

A faint hint of spiritual energy flared up, causing you to snap your eyes open and zero in on the ground below. At first, his energy kept flashing in and out of your radar like lightning strokes across the sky, which made it frustrating—but this one was different. It lingered—long enough for you to latch onto it. It was as if he had lost control of his focus, temporarily unable to mask his presence-- causing his energy to blaze brighter, more potent than the humans around him. 

You could feel him moving around; he wasn’t far from you. Using your sonído, you descended the sky in a flash, landing in the middle of bustling humans. You could still feel his energy, but it was dwindling like he was attempting to dull it again. 

“Too late,” you whispered. A smile crept across your face, and you could feel your canines graze your bottom lip as you zeroed in on the faint spiritual energy. You started to let your instincts take over; It was what you were good at—hunting things down. Except, it proved useless when you needed it for things that mattered—to you. Nevertheless, this was one of the reasons why Aizen kept you near. And at this moment, you were happy for your bestial inclination. Taking one last look around, you took a deep breath and held it until you could feel your heart pound in your ears. Releasing the breath you kept trapped in your lungs, you felt your focus increase, and everything slowed down around you. Sounds became muffled, smells heightened, and your instincts were flipped into overdrive. 

The hunt was on. 

Chapter Text

Your feet beat against the black pavement as you zipped between crowds of humans. Your instincts had taken over as you ran at a blurring speed through the downtown district, snaking between clusters of buildings. The city became smaller the further you ran; all you saw were residential homes. You cut between the uniformed homes, making sharp turns as you followed the faint spiritual pressure of the mysterious Hollow. 

Following him in the air would be easier, but you didn’t want him to spot you first. He had that advantage since you weren’t exactly sure who the hell you were looking for. Even as you run down the dark paved streets, you still don’t recognize the reiatsu belonging to someone you’ve met. You turned another corner, the bustle of humans thinning out as you neared trees scattered along the neighborhood’s perimeter. 

The area grew quiet as you ventured deep into the field. You cut across brush and wide tree trunks outlining the base of a tall hill. The spiritual energy of the Hollow was growing stronger as you pressed forward—you felt yourself practically buzzing with excitement as you dashed across the uneven terrain, dodging thin twigs and large rocks scattered on the ground.  You ascended a slight incline, legs stretching as you raced against time. You felt the Hollow pressure thin as if he was trying to conceal it— and you kicked into high gear, making sure your footsteps were light so as not to alert the Hollow that you were following him. Stealth came naturally to you.

“Where are you going,”you hummed, letting your instinct guide your actions.

The further you ran from civilization, the more curious you got. Anxiety tugged at the back of your mind, screaming at you to return to the task you came here for. But the urge to follow was strong. It was almost as if your instincts, or intuition, pulled you forward—it made your legs follow the unknown Hollow, and you had no way of stopping it. It really wasn’t any of your business what Gin ordered others to do. Whether he did it for his benefit or…the downfall of his Lord, it shouldn’t matter to you. But it did.

A nagging feeling deep within your core pushed you forward. It mattered to you, and you weren’t sure why. You sprinted, warm wind blasted across your face, and a cacophony of sounds whirred past your ears. Your heart pounded in your chest, and your lungs expanded as far as possible. You were careful to mask your spiritual energy before following him—but as you broke through the trees and entered another cluster of homes, you were careful to stick to the shadows.

The spiritual energy of the Hollow grew stronger, and you slowed into a walk as you crept between two houses. Sunlight danced behind the homes, but there was still enough coverage for you to hide in the shadows. Coming to a stop at the edge of one of the houses, right before entering the street, you pressed your back against the house, feeling a rough, grainy texture against your palms. You were right on top of him, so close that you could feel your body vibrate with anticipation. Pressing yourself closer to the wall, feeling the jutted rock press into your lower back, slowing your breathing, you closed your eyes. Opening your pesquisa, you focused on his spiritual energy to locate him.

I found you.

You smiled. He was on the other side of the wall, just a few feet away. Opening your eyes, you peered around the corner of the home you were fleshed against to check out your surroundings. You were so focused on finding the Hollow that you hadn’t noticed how odd the neighborhood was. There weren’t any humans around. At all.

No miniature humans were screaming; there weren’t any giant contraptions on the streets. This neighborhood was eerily quiet. Glancing at the homes, you noticed they weren’t quite dilapidated but were desolate. Shrubbery grew haphazardly, tall gras brushed front porches, and even some roofs were falling apart. The paint on the homes was either dried and cracked or peeling. Nature claimed some of the homes; animals claimed the rest. The streets were cracked, and chunks of rock rested in the center of sidewalks. The few motor contraptions you could spot were rusted, and their windows were so caked up with grime you couldn’t peer inside them. This neighborhood felt like another dimension-- one that was rejected and forgotten about, a place frozen in time. It was bizarre seeing so much abandonment so close to the bustling city.

Stepping into the street to get a better view but staying within the shadow, you noticed a small, neat shop nestled behind a half brick wall—which seemed out of place, surrounded by empty homes reclaimed by the Earth. The shop was a one-story building with a red roof, wood paneling, and a pristine, white sign with simple characters that read ‘Urahara’s Shop.’ 

The shop was dark and seemed to be empty inside.  As you stepped further onto the street, determined to get a closer look, rustling to the side of the building caught your attention, and you saw a shadow emerge from a thick brush near the home. Quickly, you stepped back into the shadow and watched the figure emerge.

He was of average height with a slim build. His arms were long, and his hands were unusually large—too large; they didn’t fit his frame. His chest was bare, but everything from his waist down was covered in grey fur. His legs weren’t like yours or like a human’s; they resembled more of a bird. Long and thin but muscular, they ended with claw-like feet that scrapped against the ground every time he walked. His Hollow mask was partially intact—the bottom of his mouth was exposed, showcasing two long tusks protruding from his wide-set mouth. The top of his face, from his nose to the top of his head, was covered in his mask. The nose was stout; only two holes sat in the center of his face—the only indication that it was his nose from the positioning. His eyes were glowing yellow, and his pupils were thin like a cat. He didn’t have any ears, at least from what you could see, but what drew your attention was the tall antler-like protrusions that jutted from the top of his head. The sun was high up, blazing down on his rich ebony skin. He was a mismatched of parts, both equally interesting and off-putting. You’ve never seen anything like him. Not in Las Noches nor the World of the Living; you would have remembered him.

What is he? You asked yourself while watching him in bewildered amazement. 

He stood as still as a statue. So still that, if you hadn’t seen him emerge from the trees, you would’ve thought he was some elaborate sculpture. He stood at the edge of the shop and stared at it. You held your breath as you watched him, mesmerized by his unique features—you wondered where in Hueco Mundo he was from, and how did Gin find him. Was there more like him? Or was he the last of his kind? And, just how big was Hueco Mundo?  The sun shone brightly in the sky, but it was cool under the shadows of the homes. The Earth seemed to freeze in time as you watched him. Was he waiting for someone? His stillness unnerved you. 

Your mind was reeling as you kept watch over the Hollow. You noticed time passing only when the blazing sun shifted in the sky, and its rays beat down on your back, making you feel unconformable, pushing you to dip further behind the wall to avoid being seen and to avoid the heat. You tiptoed deeper into the shadowed alleyway between the homes, moving backward until you reached the end of the alley, and peered around the corner, now watching the Hollow from behind. He continued to stand unmoving, and your unease grew. 

How could someone stand so still? Why was he even here? Was he waiting for—

Movement to your right drew your attention, and you shifted from your spot to scan the area the sound came from. You only saw trees and brush slightly rattling in the breeze. You didn’t see anything out of the ordinary and didn’t feel another living being approached; a group of crows shot towards the sky from the trees, scattering above and loudly cawing as they ascended the bright blue sky. They disappeared as quickly as they appeared, and you turned your attention back to the Hollow.

Who was now gone.

“What the—”

“It looks like you found me.” 

A guttural voice raked across your skin like gravel, making your heart piston in your chest as you slowly turned towards it and came face-to-face with the Hollow from before. He stood directly behind you, his wide mouth ticked upwards into a sinister grin, causing his tusk to look twice as deadly. “You, my friend, are one curious, curious, little cat,” he growled, and you gripped your Zanpakuto. 

“I guess I’ve been found out,” you said airily as you slowly began to unsheathed your sword. “You’re smarter than you look. I was sure after you tried, and failed, to cover your presence you were just a run of a mill Hollow—forced to do someone else’s bidding.” 

The Hollow barked out a full-body laugh; his head hung back as one arm wrapped around his torso as if you told one of the most hilarious jokes he’d ever heard. 

You weren’t that funny.

And his disregard unnerved you.

“Oh, yeah. About that…” he sobered up, wiping a lone tear from his yellow-rimmed eyes. “I am a ‘run of the mill’ Hollow, but get this, love, I always carry out my orders.” 

Orders? He only had the one… 

Yet, before you could ask him, the Hollow, thick-clawed feet crashed into your chest, catching you completely off guard. The impact knocked out all of the air in your lungs as you skidded across the ground, crashing into the low brick wall in front of Urahara’s shop. Your back collided with the wall, and searing pain shot through you like a lightning strike. 

“Woooow, you really are an Espada! You blocked the worst of that kick in the nick of time. Badass.” the Hollow said as he stalked across the open space. He didn’t have a Zanpukuto, but his fingers were adorned in black rings where spikes jutted. He flicked his wrist, and a large spike flew towards you. You shifted, managing to dodge the deadly point at the last second.

Standing on shaky legs, you dove to the right as an assault of sharp spikes flew towards you with lightning speed. He was right; you did manage to block that kick. But you were stunned, his brute strength took you completely off guard, and the onslaught of his wicked weapon didn’t give you time to recover. You shuffled onto your feet as he approached, dodging a particularly lethal punch from his meaty fist. His fist crashed into the wall, the impact crumbling the brick like it was styrofoam.

“Ah, man! You’re fast too!” He pulled his hand from the hole in the wall and turned, throwing his fists at you again, the sharp point coming dangerously close to your head as you ducked and kicked out your leg, connecting to his shin. The man grunted but didn’t stumble as he barreled toward you again. You managed to avoid most of his attacks, but the few that connected were powerful, slicing through your flesh like paper, eliciting a screech from you, and forcing you to lose your footing.

“Son of a bi—” you screamed as his fist connected with your shoulder, the spike puncturing you. You twisted, ripping yourself free from the spike, and spun out of the path of his fist, throwing a punch of your own that connected with his jaw—stunning him. You moved, not stopping a single second as you got behind the Hollow, the heat from your cero bubble in the palms of your hand and before he could turn, you shot it at him, watching as the scarlet ray of heat blasted in front of you. You stood there, panting heavily, ignoring the searing pain in your shoulder, as you watched the rays clear and the blue sky come into view.

“Whew, not bad Espada!” The Hollow said; his frame came into view as the smoke settled. 

“You’re kidding,” you said, surprised he was still standing. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m…” the Hollow began, raising his arms in the air, lacing his fingers, and casually placing them behind his head. “Everyone and no one. S’not really important who I am, what’s important is that I finish my orders.” 

“Orders?”  Orders, there it is again. What other order did he have? You took a step back, fixing your stance, waiting for him to make a move. “Why are you here?” 

The man laughed, a booming bellow that threatened to shatter your eardrums, but you resisted the urge to cover your ears. His carefree aura unnerved you, but underneath, you felt his deadly intent: the urge to kill. It was an instinct all hunters knew well and could recognize it, no matter how intense the urge was. He was an unknown, an enemy you couldn’t predict. He was strong—as strong as you; and he was manipulative.

“Sooooo nosy,” he said in between his laughter. Irritation seeped into your limbs as the Hollow continued to avoid your questions. You were fed up with him and ready to cut this confrontation short. He may be strong, but so were you. And you knew that if he could bleed, he could die. 

You’d just have to kill him.

In a flash, the Hollow wrist flicked from behind his head, and a blinding light slammed into the ground, splitting it open as the Earth shattered beneath your feet. Searing pain shot through you, causing you to stagger back, the threat of falling to your knees strong, but your stubbornness to not kneel was stronger. Your limbs felt constricted; your brain stuttered; you couldn’t think. Your teeth clenched as you tried to control the agony that shot through you relentlessly. The man continued to laugh as he flicked his wrist again; another flash stabbed the ground— rattled through you. He flicked his wrist again and again, and each time, a burst of agony surged through you. You couldn’t stop it. You didn’t even know how to stop it. Screams filled the air around you, and it took a while to realize they were yours. 

“That’s it! Scream,” flick. “Scream some more!” Flick. “I love this sound!” 

Hatred and anger vibrated through you, birthing from your agony as your murderous intent permeated the air. You gritted your teeth as another power surge of agony tore through you. Sweat beaded your brow, but it didn’t stop the animalistic roar that ripped through you. 

And you attacked.

Pure rage and fury colored your vision as you shot forward, moving through the paralyzing pain. Your fingers wrapped around the throat of the Hollow, your nails punctured his skin as he continued to laugh and flick his wrist—the shocking pain still shooting through you, but you ignored it because you were only focused on one thing.

Ripping his throat out.

Your screams turned into screeches as you dug your nails deeper into his flesh and conjured a cero in your free hand. The Hollow’s laughs turned gruff as you felt the flesh peel from him, and your fingers sank deeper into his neck. In a blinding rage, you stared down at the Hollow, his yellow eyes alight with humor and mischief. 

“Tell me one thing before I kill you,” you demand, tightening your grip. “Why are you here?”

“Oh you know, this and that.” You tightened your grip and felt bone begin to snap. The Hollow coughed up blood, and you watched as it trickled down his mouth, coating his long tusks in a viridescent hue. The Hollow managed to reach out to grab you, but you grabbed his arm with your hand that held your cero, effectively burning off the limb. The smell of burnt flesh and his agonized screams permeated the air. 

“Fine. Okay. Fine. Shit,” he said in a rush. “I’m here for two reason.”

You loosened your grip and watched as he hungrily sucked in oxygen. 

“I was ordered to keep watch on the human Urahara.” He wheezed. “And, to distract you.” 

“Distract me? From what—”

A loud explosion in the distance drew your attention. Turning to the left, you could see clouds of grey enveloping the sky, and a sudden constricting pressure encircled you, making you feel weak. 

“Ahh, looks like it started,” the Hollow said. You turned to him and were met with a wide grin. He looked as if he’d won--as if he had the last laugh.

“What is going on?” You demanded, but the Hollow only laughed.

“Distract me from what?”

More laughter.

“Answer me damnit.”

Your demands were met with more laughter, and you tightened your grip in a rage, feeling the crack of bone underneath your fingers as his laughter turned into a wet gurgle. You watched as fear seeped into his eyes, breaking through the mask of nonchalance. You watched as he realized his life was about to be snuffed out. You watched as the exact moment the Hollow realized his death was imminent seeped into his core and and became a reality.

You watched as pure, unbridled fear awakened. 

And you smiled. 

You leaned close to him, ensuring he could see every bit of rage and excitement in your eyes. “That’s it…” You squeezed tighter and watched as the light in his eyes began to dim. “I want my face to be the very last thing you see when you die.” 

And with that, you sunk your fingers deeper into his flesh, snapping the larynx and hyoid bones in his neck. You watched as the light left his eyes; his body went limp as you both crashed into the ground; you used his body as a cushion.

Standing, you removed your hands from the bloody mess, annoyance rattling through you. You got absolutely nothing from him, and it pissed you off. You leaned forward and wiped your bloodied hand on his grey fur. As you prepared to head towards the commotion from before, you stopped and stared at the lifeless Hollow on the ground.

“Before I forget….” The warmth of your cero ignited in your palm, and you hauled it at him and watched as the rays licked his lifeless body. You didn’t wait for the flames to die down. You took off in the direction of the explosion. The Hollow life’s a stained memory; a memory you’ll forget as soon as you head back to where you came from: back to Ulqiourra.

——————————

“Why do these bugs keep popping up?”

Yammy’s roar greeted you as soon as you neared them. Your limbs ached; the hole in your shoulder throbbed as your body worked hard to repair the injury. The pain was a searing reminder of the battle you had mere minutes before, but you gritted your teeth and ignored it as best as you could as you cut through the air. It didn’t take long to return, but when you stopped above the chaos below, you realized a lot had happened since you’d been gone. Namely, Yammy was missing an arm, and more humans were lying lifeless on the ground. But what caught your attention was the two that stood before him: a woman with purple hair and a man with blond hair. 

“These ants… I’ll destroy them all!” Yammy yelled as he swung his giant fist towards the two…humans? But in a flash, the woman appeared above Yammy, landing continuous blows on him and forcing him to his knees. For a moment, you were stunned, impressed, even. In a matter of seconds, she brought Yammy down to the ground and rendered him unconscious. As his giant body fell, the woman and man made their way to the scattered bodies on the ground, moving them out of harm’s way. Yammy groaned, but you ignored him. You watched as the woman cradled a young, orange-haired girl in her arms and gave her something to drink. Scanning the area, you saw Ulquiorra standing behind Yammy’s collapsed frame, but he did not move to help nor intervene in the assault. 

Figures. 

It was strange seeing the two who managed to immobilize Yammy turn their attention entirely onto the injured, ignoring you and Ulquiorra. But as you began to descend the sky, you noticed a slight shift in the air—a dark energy that reminded you of Hueco Mundo. It was overwhelming and potent. For the first time today, chill bumps peppered your skin, and you were frozen in mid-descent. You scanned the ground again and noticed the blond man was watching you out of the corner of his eye. 

But he wasn’t the one you felt the dark energy from. No. He was strong, no doubt about it. But he wasn’t that one that struck fear in the depths of your stomach. 

“Do you feel that, Y/N?” Ulquiorra’s voice broke through the opaque fog of fear, drawing your attention to him as he stood on the ground below you. “He’s a strange one, isn’t he?”

He? Who is he—

Your attention snagged on the body lying a few yards away from Yammy. 

Orange hair. Black shihakushō. Black Bankai. This is the kid. But why was he on the ground? Was he defeated? No.

“Is it him?” You asked Ulquiorra, and he gave an almost imperceptible nod. 

Although he wasn’t moving at the moment, the dark energy of the Kurosaki kid fluctuated. At one point, it rose so high that it activated your fight or flight response; your self-perseverance to stay alive and away urged you to flee. But at another point…

It was so low that it was almost undetectable. You had no clue what was going on. 

“Shit!” Yammy shouted. His booming voice startled you, but it brought you back to the present. “I’m going to kill you. I’m going to kill you. All of you!” Yammy shot to his feet, his hand outstretched, and a crimson ray bubbled up, coating his flesh. He launched his cero, covering the entire ground in a blinding red light. Yammy laughed maniacally, proud of his work, but it was short-lived when the red flame disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. 

Standing in front of Yammy was the blond man, Zanpakuto in his hand, pointing directly at him. 

“What? What happened to my cero?” Yammy asked.

“Oh, I stopped it,” the blond man said casually, as if stopping a cero at such a close range was child’s play to him.

“Stopped it? Impossible!”

“I beg to differ, it’s very possible. Would you like me to show you again?” 

“You annoying little ant—” 

Yammy launched towards the blond man, but Ulquiorra was in between them in a flash, halting Yammy’s attack. 

“Ulqiourra, I knew you care—” Ulquiorra whipped around and landed a blow so powerful in the center of Yammy’s stomach that the large Espada stumbled backward and fell to one knee. 

“Idiot,” Ulqiourra said, turning his attention back to the blond man. “Do you know who these two are? They are Urahara Kisuke and Yoruichi Shihouin. You wouldn’t have a chance in hell defeating both of them in the condition you’re in.”

Wait. That’s Urahara Kisuke? He was here the whole time? Then why...

“We’re leaving. We’ve gathered enough information,” Ulquiorra glanced at you before turning his back on the two Soul Reapers. Your head was spinning with the new information that crashed down on you. You hardly protested when it was time to leave. You were exhausted, and your limbs ached. Ulqiourra opened the Garganta, and the large black void ripped apart the blue sky, humming and waiting for you to enter.

“You’re just going to leave then?” The purple-haired woman, Yoruichi Shihouin, yelled.

“Don’t try to goad me into a battle,” Ulquiorra sighed. “We’ve finished what we came here for, and now it’s time to tell Lord Aizen that he doesn’t need to worry about anyone here—”

You watched as Yammy stepped into the Garganta, disappearing into the blackness. You were next with one foot already inside.

“—every one here is trash. And the substitute Soul Reaper Lord Aizen was so curious about is a non-threat. We’re done here,” Ulquiorra said as he followed you into the Garganta.

Before the portal closed, you stood watching the scene on the other side for a moment: the Soul Reapers and their human partners lay haphazardly on the dirt ground. But your eyes met brown ones and lingered. The orange-haired boy watched you with such intensity that you couldn’t help but stare back, curious about him and his fluctuating spiritual energy. Was he really trash, as Ulqiourra said? Or was there more to it? There’s a reason Aizen's interested in him. 

“You are certainly…interesting.” You mumbled as you turned on your heels and followed Ulquiorra into the familiar blackness of the void.

—————————

“Welcome back, Ulqiourra, Yammy, and Y/N.” Aizen’s honeyed voice penetrated the darkness as you emerged from the Garganta. “Please, show us everything that you’ve encountered on your mission to the World of the Living.”

The room was filled with all of the Espada and their subordinates. Aizen sat atop the stairs on his stone throne, with Gin and Tousen flanking him on either side. His head rested in his hand as his brown eyes briefly acknowledged Ulqiourra and Yammy before landing on you. He scanned you from head to toe before capturing your gaze, and a small, almost invisible smile ghosted his handsome face. 

You felt... exposed. 

You knew that you weren’t in the best shape. All you wanted was the comforts of the familiar. Your limbs screamed and begged to be cared for. You wanted to be off your feet. You wanted a shower. You wanted food. But all of that had to wait until Aizen got his full report. Gritting your teeth, you followed Ulqiourra and Yammy to the center of the floor, but you kept your gaze on Aizen, unable to look away.

And when he spoke his next words, they felt directed only to you.

“Show me everything. Don’t leave anything out.”

Chapter Text

“Yes, Sir.”

Ulqiourra reached up and dug his fingers into his right eye, effectively removing the organ, and held it in the palm of his hands. Without another word, he crushed the soft orb, and the mass turned into iridescent particles that floated around the room. You scanned the room, following the path of the particles as they landed on everyone, seeping into their skin the minute they connected. Every person closed their eyes and allowed the image to play behind their lids.

You found one trick Ulqiourra possessed fascinating—the ability to share his vision and feelings through his Solita Vista. Only those he chooses to share the power with can see everything he sees and feels. This ability made him an asset to Aizen; he was the perfect surveillance. 

The room was dead silent as each person watched the events of today. Only you, Ulqiourra, and Yammy were alert. Ulqiourra’s eye regenerated in its socket, and Yammy kneeled on the ground with his head bowed. You stood to Ulqiourra’s left, watching the others in the room. You spotted Grimmjow perched on one of the cliffs, legs dangling over the edge while he rested his elbows on his thighs and his head in his palms. His eyes were closed; his mouth slightly parted. You could see the slight twitch in his brow as they furrowed—clearly, he wasn’t happy about something.

You were curious about what they were seeing. Since you had left them, you were in the dark about the events that transpired from when you left until your return. But you’d never bring it up. It’s better that Aizen doesn’t know you left the scene to pursue something else and you still haven’t had the time to process the events of your encounter with the Hollow. There was so much you wanted to ask, and you felt you were further away from answers than before. But it wasn’t the time to dwell on it. You could do that later. 

“I see,” Aizen said, his voice drawing your attention. Each Hollow opened their eyes one by one, their focus laser pointed at the three of you in the center of the room. “So, you determined that the ryoka boy was a non-threat, is that right Ulqiourra?”

“Yes, Sir.” 

“And for that, you left him alive?”

“Yes, Sir,” Ulqiourra said. He stepped forward and kneeled on one knee. “I don’t think that he is a threat. Sure, he possesses immense spiritual energy; but it’s unstable. He was rendered immobile due to his inability to control it, which is how Yammy defeated him so easily.”

“Hey, Ulqiourra! I could defeat him even if he did have control of his spiritual energy—”

Aizen glanced at Yammy, his brown eyes narrowing in a silent threat. Yammy closed his mouth and bowed his head, ceasing his attempt to defend himself. Ulquiorra continued.

“Perhaps if he had a chance to utilize his spiritual energy, I would have deemed him worthy of eliminating. But he’s a pest. Trash, rather. It would have been pointless to squash an immobile bug.”

“That’s bullshit!” A familiar voice shouted from the distance. You immediately recognized it as Grimmjow before you turned to confirm it. He still sat perched on one of the higher stone points in the gathering room. He had one leg perched on the rock, an arm draped around his leg as he leaned forward to peer down at the small cluster you stood with. His blue eyes briefly met yours before turning his rage onto Ulqiourra.

“You’re telling me that you didn’t kill him because he was too weak, and it wouldn’t have made a difference because you don’t see him as a threat?” His large hands balled into fists as he slammed it on top of his thigh. “You should’ve killed him anyway! Completely eliminated the nuisance. Threat or not.”

“Yeah!” A Hollow shouted from the opposite side of the room.

“Why’d you leave him alive?” Another Hollow questioned.

“We should kill all threats!” A third Hollow barked.

The room became a cacophony of noise as Hollows shouted their grifes at Ulqiourra. Most were in agreement with Grimmjow, while others watched the spectacle. You glanced at Ulqiourra, his face unreadable as he stared at Grimmjow. 

“What will happen if the little bastard gains control of his spiritual energy—the same energy you claimed that it rivaled your own when it was at it highest. Then what? He’s a bigger fucking problem.”

He has a point. 

You were also curious as to why Ulqiourra didn’t kill the Kurosaki kid, but at the same time, you figured there had to be another motive to keep him alive. Aizen specifically kept tabs on the kid; he never instructed you nor Ulqiourra to kill him.  Ulqiourra was a stickler for following orders; he wouldn’t defy Aizen’s orders unless there were no other choice. 

“If that happens, I’ll kill him myself, Grimmjow.” The room went silent after Ulqiourra’s declaration. “The Soul Reaper has immense potential to turn into something…interesting. And I felt that keeping him alive and seeing what happens to him would be the most beneficial. Excuse me, Lord Aizen for my curiosity, but he is a unique case,” Ulqiourra said.

Aizen didn’t respond; he sat unmoving in his chair, watching the confrontation unfold. Ulqiuorra continued.

“Besides, if the kid doesn’t manage to control his spiritual energy, the spiritual energy will kill him anyway. He’d destroy himself, before he felt the honor of Lord Aizen’s blade slit his throat. But if he manages to gain control of his power, and decide to come after us, do you really think he has the power to destroy our Lord?” 

Nobody said a word as the assumption of the Kurosaki kid becoming strong enough to defeat Aizen blanketed the room. Grimmjow sat stock still, seething from his place above. You glanced at Aizen and noticed the slight upturn in his mouth. He was enjoying this conflict. 

“That is my decision,” Ulqiourra continued. “Rest assure, Grimmjow. The kid will not be a problem for us. Not now, nor in the future.”

“I see,” Aizen spoke, and everybody turned to him. “A very sound decision, Ulqiourra.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”

“Do you agree?”

For a moment, you were confused about who Aizen was talking to until you realized he looked right at you, and you felt the eyes of every Hollow in the room. Ulqiourra glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a slight frown adorning his face. For once, you were able to read his emotions. And he wasn’t happy.

“I…” you glanced around the room, and each Hollow gave you their undivided attention, curious as to what you were going to say regarding the decision of Ulqiourra. You agreed with both men. You understood Grimmjow’s frustration, but you also understood Ulqiourra’s decision. Your gaze landed on Grimmjow, and you could see the anger still lingering on his face, but at the same time, there was a softness to it as he gazed at you.

You wanted to support him. You were friends, and you had just made up for the miscommunication you had earlier. At least you were starting to fall back into your friendship pattern again. And it was one of the things you wanted most in the world. 

To keep him close. 

But you had your own agenda, a singular goal that propelled you forward and kept you going. You believed that the Kurosaki kid would be the key to exacting your revenge and finding your sister—that is if he managed to survive his own power. 

“I agree with Ulqiourra.” You didn’t look at Grimmjow as you answered Aizen. The cold mask you were so used to wearing whenever you had to make hard decisions or commit unfavorable acts slid into place. You didn’t want either man to read you. You weren’t ready to process the words coming out of your mouth or the consequences you’d have to deal with once they were spoken.

Instead, you focused on the object of your anger. And he smiled back at you.

Mischief sparkled in Aizen's eyes as he held your gaze. “The kid is a non-threat at the moment, and if he miraculously manages to control the power that rest inside of him, he’d make for an interesting opponent. But from what I saw, he’d be dead before he managed to gain full control. It makes killing him….,” You scanned the room, making eye contact with each Hollow, skipping over Grimmjow’s section until you locked eyes with Aizen again. “Lackluster.”

Aizen barked out a short laugh. White teeth dazzled above as he leaned forward, his arms resting on his spread thighs, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Lackluster you say? Well, aren’t you one for… entertainment.”

“You know better than most that I like a good time,” you answered dryly. 

“Hmm.” Was all Aizen said before he sat back in his chair. “You heard the Lady, she agrees with Ulqiourra’s decision, so we will leave it at that.” Aizen scanned the room, his brown eyes cut with an edge of sin, daring anyone to object. 

Nobody did. 

Grimmjow stood from his perch and leaped from the high distance, landing gracefully in the center of the room. He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the blue strands before slipping his hands into his pockets. 

“I’m outta here,” he announced, walking between you and Ulqiourra towards the exit. His blue eyes met yours, and he held your stare openly and unapologetically. And you felt all his rage— because it was directed toward you. 

“Grimmjow,” Aizen’s voice cut through the tension like a knife, but it didn’t make the Hollow tear his gaze from yours. He didn’t acknowledge Aizen at all, but you could feel the anger ripple off of him like a wave. “Be sure to not do anything reckless. I’d hate to see you in an unfortunate situation.”

Grimmjow didn’t answer Aizen. Instead, he broke the trance between you and strode forward. 

“And another thing,” Aizen said as Grimmjow made it to the large double doors. “Remember to not interfere with things..or people…that don’t concern you.”

Grimmjow threw open the large doors and entered the white hallway, and you watched him until the doors closed, obscuring your view of him. 

“He’s a rowdy one, isn’t he,” Gin said, seemingly amused with Grimmjow’s outburst. Aizen didn’t say anything. You kept your gaze on the closed doors; your heart felt heavy in your chest, almost outweighing the strain on your limbs. When you finally pulled your gaze from the closed doors, you met Aizen, who seemed… angry. 

Though he hadn’t shifted in his seat or changed his expression, you felt his anger roll off as if he was telepathically telling you he wasn’t happy. Aizen’s anger was never loud like Grimmjow’s; he was silent, overwhelming in how it weighed down on you like a boulder, and most people didn’t recognize his anger until it was too late.

Yet, you knew. 

And it was too late. 

“We’re done for now,” Aizen said. His brown eyes turned cold as he stood from his seat. “You’re dismissed.” 

Every Hollow slowly rose from their seat and began to exit the room. As you prepared to leave, you felt a hand on your shoulder and a familiar warmth at your back. 

“Five minutes.”

That was all Aizen said before he disappeared.

————————

“I’m coming in, My Lord.”

You pushed open the large, double doors as you entered Aizen’s suite. It felt like ages since you were last here when Loly escorted you and accused you of plotting Aizen’s demise. You were…, but she didn’t know that; she didn’t know you at all. 

And that was only yesterday.

Aizen stood on his balcony, gazing at the crescent moon, barely acknowledging you as you made your way to the center of his room.  All of it felt like deja vu. “You wanted to see me?”

“Join me, Y/N.”

You’d rather not, but he was already in a pissy mood, and you were too tired to fight with him. You made your way across the grand floor, ascended the stairs, and stood a few feet behind him. 

“You can’t stand beside me?”

“I’m fine here,” you said. Aizen glanced at you over his shoulder, his brown eyes unreadable. You felt a chill course through you, stiffening your spine and tightening your already sore limbs. Without saying another word, you moved closer until you stood beside him, resting your hand on the wrought iron railing. A feature you always liked because it stood out against the neverending stone that encased Las Noches.

“You wanted to se—” you stopped mid-sentence as Aizen placed both of his hands on either side of you, caging you in front of him.

“Was that so difficult?” He asked. Then before you could answer, “Look up at the sky, the moon is so bright.”

“It always looks like that,” you said. Ignoring how close he stood behind you. You could feel his body heat seep through his clothes and bathe your back—even though he wasn’t touching you. Your heart pounded as you stared at the bright crescent moon and black sky studded with stars.

Aizen leaned forward, his wavy brown hair fell forward, resting on his forehead. A few strands brushed against the side of your face.  “Now tell me, where did you disappear to while in the World of the Living?”

“W-What?” You stuttered. His question caught you off guard. You knew he’d find out eventually, but you didn’t think it would be so soon. Was this the reason why he was angry?  “I..”

One of Aizen’s hands left its perch on the railing, finding your thigh, and he gripped it. Your brows hiked up your head as your heart threatened to rip through your sternum. Your grip tightened on the rails as your breath quickened— you could feel every ragged breath that escaped your lips. Your core tightened, and wetness pooled at your center. 

“Don’t lie,” Aizen said, his voice thick. “I can always tell when you’re lying.”

There was no point in hiding it.

“I felt a shift in the atmosphere while on my mission. It felt like a Hollow, but their energy was… different. Unfamiliar.” Aizen’s fingers trailed up your thigh and disappeared beneath the hem of your skirt. “I disobeyed direct orders and followed the unfamiliar energy. I was curious to know who it was. What Hollow, with its unique spirt energy, appeared near a group of Espada.” 

Aizen fingers slipped behind the thin material, grazing your heat as you tried to recount today’s events. 

“I…I…,” you tried to remember what happened once you noticed the Hollow, but your memory was foggy. Pleasure blanketed your mind like a shield. 

“What did you do?”

“I.. p-pursued the unknown Hollow, and I e-ended up near Urahara’s s-shop.” Aizen slipped his fingers between your drenched lips, sinking deeper until he was past his knuckle. You bit your bottom lip to stifle the moan that vibrated in your throat. The coolness of the night air did nothing for your burning skin. You felt like an inferno: lit, raging, and unconfined as Aizen pumped his long finger in and out of you.

“You’ve stopped talking,” he said, his deep, honeyed voice right at your ear. “Finish telling me what happened.”

Impossible. He’s truly impossible.

“T-the shop was e-empty—” Aizen slipped in a second finger and a moan cut off your recount. You gripped the railing tighter as you resisted the urge to move your hips. 

“Empty, you say?” 

“Y-yes.”

“And what else happened?”

“I encountered the source of the unfamiliar reiatsu. He was a H-Hollow I have never seen before. He was…he was…” a moan slipped past your lips. “S-slim, and h-he had tall antlers protruding from his head—My Lord, please—”

“Hm, that’s not the end of it is it? Go on, tell me what else happened.” 

Aizen thrust his fingers; his thumb swiped across your sensitive nub as his other hand gripped your waist, pulling you against him. 

“His eyes were yellow and his skin was a dark as the night.” A shiver wracked through your body, making your knees feel weak. “I…I… confronted the Hollow, and w-we ended up in a battle which ended in his d-death.” 

“Oh? And did this Hollow mention why he was there?” Aizen withdrew his fingers briefly, collected your wetness, and swiped it across your clit before sinking three fingers inside of you. The stretch shocked you, and you whimpered, relishing in the pain that was smoothed by each long thrust of his fingers.

“No, My Lord—”

“Sōsuke.”

“Huh?”

“I let it go earlier, but you do remember what I told you before, don’t you?”

“I…”

“My name. I want you to say my name when we’re alone.” He gripped your other thigh, forcing your legs to spread wider as he sank his fingers deeper inside you. You rocked your hips against him; your core tightened as you felt your release build up. 

You were about to come--outside, exposed to the night as you told Aizen everything you saw while pursuing the Hollow.

“R-right, Sōsuke,” saying his name warmed your skin, and you refused to acknowledge the reason behind it. You pressed on, “As I was saying, no matter what I did to him, he wouldn’t tell me why he was there.”

“What a pity, then.” Aizen switched from deep to shallow thrust, reflecting his disappointment in your story. “You wasted your time.”

That’s one way to look at it. 

But you couldn’t think. He wasn’t giving you the friction that you wanted; his shallow thrust wasn’t hitting the spot within you to tip you over the edge—and he knew it.

“Sōsu—”

“Ah, right. You’re close aren’t you?” You can hear the amusement in his tone. “Well, you did tell the truth, I guess I should let you cum.” 

Yes. Please. 

His fingers traced your sensitive bud, collecting your wetness before plunging back inside of your heat in long, fast strokes. He didn’t let up. Aizen curled his fingers inside of you as his thumb worked your clit in agonizing, tight circles. Your hips bucked forward as a whimper escaped your lips, damning all efforts to keep quiet.

And all of your hard work.

You tried to deny how your body responded to him.

You tried not to let the pleasure he gave you consume every logical thought that scratched the surface of your mind.

But you weren’t perfect. 

And the man that you had sworn to kill was the same man who ignited a fire so deep within your being that you couldn’t ignore him or it. You were too aware of him. All the time. No matter what you told yourself.

Aizen embedded himself into your marrow like an imprint, and as your moans grew louder and louder with each thrust of his fingers, you didn’t give a damn about anything outside you, him, and reaching your release.

“Oh, right,” Aizen husky voice penetrated your lust-filled haze. “I have one more thing to ask you.”

He slowed his vicious onslaught, pumping his fingers at a leisurely pace. The switch was so jarring that it pissed you off. You were so, so close to reaching your end. 

“Grimmjow. What happened between you two?”

“Why are you bringing up Grimmjow right now,” you pout, but at the same time, your chest tightened with worry. Nothing happened between you two, yet you still felt like your friendship with him was breaking some unspoken rule.

Aizen was quiet for a moment. Then, “One more time, Y/N.” He curled his fingers inside you, slowly stroking your inner walls. “I’m giving you one more time to tell me the truth.”

“There’s nothing to tell. Nothing happened.”

You writhe, wanting him to move faster, to hit the spot deep inside of you to push you over the edge, but he purposely avoided it.

“I’ve been patient with you.” Aizen pumped his fingers slowly, his voice dropping dangerously low. “Letting you defy me, leaving you up to your own devices because I find it amusing to see what you get yourself into.” Aizen stopped pumping his fingers and removed them, leaving you at the tip of your release but not allowing you to crash. “And yet… you broke the one rule I did give you.” Aizen turned you to him. Your vision was blurry with unshed tears of frustration. You looked up at him as he stared down at you, a sinister smirk on his chiseled face. Brown eyes blazed with anger and desire; his hair disheveled, falling haphazardly in front of his face. “I don’t share.”

“But nothing hap—”

“Want to know how I can tell when you’re lying?” Aizen leaned in, long fingers cupping your chin as he tilted your face up. His thumb brushed your full lips, sending electricity straight to your core. “I can smell it on you.” He captured your mouth in an unforgiving kiss. “Your pulse quickens.” He forcefully pried your lips apart as his tongue laid claim to your mouth, asserting dominance. “And you bite your lip when you’re lying.” He said as he nipped your bottom lip before slipping his tongue back into your mouth. Your legs weakened, and you collapsed against him as you let him have his way with you.

There was nothing gentle nor kind about the way he claimed your mouth; or the way he claimed your pussy with his fingers mere moments ago. No. It was about dominance and sending a message, staking ownership over his property. Aizen’s large hands snaked up your back, finding their way into your braids that sat atop your head in a high ponytail. He pulled, forcing your head back and breaking the kiss. 

“I reward obedience,” his brown eyes flashed with ire. “And I punish liars.” 

Heat surged in your core as fear seeped into your marrow. There was nothing but darkness in those pools of brown when Aizen looked at you, and to be frank, you weren’t sure if or when your life would be forfeited whenever he felt like it. The ache in your bones from your battle earlier resurfaced, but the pressure of your unreleased orgasm screamed at you— outweighing your discomfort. There was an emptiness in you that needed to be filled right here and now, and you hoped that Aizen’s punishment resulted in your needs being met and not your life being snuffed out. As if sensing your fear, a slow, salaciously dark smile breached Aizen’s face. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you.” He pulled your hair harder, and you stumbled back from him, almost losing your balance. “No, I have another use for you. One that is for me, and me only.”

Aizen reached forward, and his long fingers wrapped around your neck. He pressed into the soft tissue at the base of your neck before trailing his hand down the center of your clavicle, between the valley of your breast and back up. You watched every single move: the way his jaw ticked, his brows furrowed, his eyes dark and hooded as they scanned you, until finally, he met your gaze. 

Aizen stepped into you, his eyes never wavering from yours. Every breath you took felt painful as your core throbbed— begged for relief. But a part of you, the instinctual part, or maybe the part that knew more about Aizen than he’d suspected, knew that relief wasn’t in sight.

As if deciding something, Aizen released your hair and stepped back.

“Kneel.”

Chapter Text

The command hung in the air as you watched him.  

You stood unmoving, your body throbbing, your mind reeling as you weighed your options. The logical voice in your mind begged you to listen, to heed Aizen’s command, and maybe he’d relinquish you from the torture of neglect. 

But the other, smaller and more defiant voice, laughed; it beckoned your emotions to supersede logic. This voice controlled you—making you more reactionary than you’d like. Naturally, you wanted to push his buttons and see how far you could go— you needed to disobey him out of spite. 

“Was I not clear?” Aizen asked, watching you from where he stood. His hands in his pockets, brown eyes hooded and unreadable, but his voice had taken on an edge. One that made you stand straighter, a chill slipped over your skin. The space felt suffocating as you both stood and watched each other. “Really, it’s such a simple command, yet you refuse to listen.” Aizen removed his hands from his pockets, raised them, and began to undo the cuff links on his right sleeve, then his left. “I could just force you.”

You swallowed, sobering a little. It’s as if you just realized that he really could force you. It was like a bucket of cold water was thrown on you as you remembered who stood before you. Lord Aizen was many things. A God. The ruler of your nightmares. Your enemy. Your lover. The person you have sworn to kill--to take back the person you love the most. Or avenge her. But, right now, he was the source of your overbearing need. Clenching your hands into fists to keep them from trembling, you challenged him, “But you won’t.”

Big mistake. 

Before you could take your next breath, a sudden pressure blanketed you and forced you to the ground. Your knees hit the smooth stone, breathing shallow. Constricted. It was as if a rope was wrapped around your neck, tightening with every breath you attempted. This was Aizen’s spiritual pressure. Your eyes watered from anger—at yourself, at him, at this whole situation. 

“Y/N,” Aizen drawled, his voice low and thick like smoke. “You push my buttons, I will push yours. Haven’t you learned that yet?”

His spiritual pressure still surrounded you, forcing you to kneel with your head bowed. Even though you couldn’t see him, you felt his anger—acute and palatable. You felt it in the way your limbs shook, even though they hung like lead at your sides. You felt it in the way your anger boiled within—making your skin feel fevered. You didn’t answer him. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to while fighting to stay upright under his spiritual pressure. You kept your eyes on the smooth stone ground, teeth sinking into your lower lip to stay calm.

The sound of shoes meeting stone resounded in your ears, and Aizen’s white shoes entered your vision. Slowly, he lifted his foot and notched it under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Clearly, you’ve forgotten your place,” Aizen released the force of his reiatsu, and the sudden lift of pressure caused you to slump forward, boneless. Aizen removed his foot from underneath your chin, replacing it with his long fingers when he leaned forward, holding your head up and ensuring your eyes stayed on him. “I allow you to throw your tantrums.” Aizen wrapped his fingers around your neck while his thumb rested on your bottom lip, “I allow you to plot and plan your schemes because I find it amusing.” He slipped his thumb between your lips, the pad resting against your tongue. “But don’t, even for a millisecond, think that you can defy me due to your own will.” He stroked your tongue, the slight rough patch of skin caused you to tremble, annoyingly making your stomach swoop. 

Aizen huffed in amusement as he watched you for a long moment. You started to squirm underneath his stare. It was a lot—having him loom over you, thrusting his thumb inside of your mouth, staring down at you with such a look of arrogance. You loathed how much your core tightened, how you wanted to bring his thumb deeper into your mouth, how… wet you were kneeling in front of him like this.

Get a grip. Your inner voice, the logical one, chastised, hoping that with enough guilt, you could stop your body’s thrumming with such an unquenchable need.  

Aizen sighed, pulling his thumb from your mouth and fingers slipping from your nape. You tried to ignore the stark emptiness you felt when a cool breeze rustled your braids. “You are so easy to read,” Aizen said in a voice so eerily soft that you couldn’t stop the tremble that coursed through you. “Did I stoke the flame from earlier?”

You don’t answer him. You shifted on your knees, clenching your thighs together to quell the insistent throbbing. 

“Forcing you to kneel in front of me,” Aizen continued. “Completely helpless and at my mercy, not sure what I intend to do. Not sure if I’d punish you,” he leaned in, his warm breath brushing against your ear. “Or fuck you.” 

You shuddered, nails digging into your thighs. “I-I’m not affected by you,” you lied. 

“Is that so?” Aizen pulled back, a small smile crested Aizen’s lips. “Then are you saying you don’t need me to take care of that little problem of yours?” He cocked his head and gazed down at your thighs, which were pressed tightly together. 

“No. I don’t.” Yes, I do. Your inner voice yelled. Why am I doing this? There was no way Aizen didn’t know how miserable you felt. Every time you moved, you felt how soaked you were. Your skin was fevered; the peeks of your breast already hard, tenting your top. 

“Then,” Aizen started, choosing to ignore your blatant lie. “I wouldn’t do either of those things I mentioned before. Since you’re so unaffected.” He placed a finger on his chin and glanced at the crescent moon.  “I will leave you here.” 

He stood, turned on his heels, and went to the living chamber beyond the archway.

“W-what?” You called out, incredulous. “You’re just going to leave me here? Like this?” 

“Yes.” 

“Lord Aizen, don’t—“

“Sōsuke.” 

You groan. “Sōsuke, don’t you think you’re being unfair?” 

“Y/n, you haven’t seen how unfair I can truly be.”  He crossed the threshold and entered the room. “Stay just like that. Until I say you can move.”

Time passed slowly. 

Seconds. Minutes. Hours. 

At least it felt like it.

The silence was deafening; it pressed against your ears, making you too aware of the lack of noise. Your heartbeat was too loud, and your blood pumped too fast. Your knees ached from kneeling on the ground. The weather was cooler, and chill bumps coated your skin every time the wind blew. You were finally able to gather yourself; your breathing slowed, but your heart still hammered in your chest—blood rushed to your ears. Even though chill bumps decorated your flesh, you still felt—hot. Uncomfortable. Irritated. Scared. 

You kept your eyes downcast, focusing on the tiny imperfections dotted along the stone balcony. You didn't like the quiet; the urge to look up was strong, but you were frozen in your spot. Rooted in place out of fear and… anticipation from Aizen’s words.

“Are you saying that you don’t need me to take care of that little problem of yours?”

Why did you say no? Why did you lie? And now, you sat here, in the quiet cold, dealing with your little problem—which felt like a big problem. Enormous. World ending, in fact.

You breathed in and out, clenching your thighs together to quell the pulsing. But you were so sensitive; every time you inhaled, your erect nipples rubbed against your uniform— the fabric sending tingles through you. You wanted to touch yourself.

You needed to. 

Without thinking, you cupped your breast, brushing against the sensitive mound, eliciting a shiver. You pressed your thighs together as your clit throbbed. You rested your other hand on your thigh, just below the hem of your skirt. Every fiber of your being beckoned you to caress the exposed skin—to trail your fingers up, up, up until you reached your damp panties. Your neediness tempted you to slip your fingers underneath the fabric, spread your swollen, drenched lips, and plunge a digit deep inside—to satiate the ache inside you.

You rub your thumb across your nipple while your other hand trails your thigh, slipping underneath the hem of your skirt. Your head lolled back, eyes closed. If he refuses to do it… then I’ll do it myse—

“Ha,” a voice startled you. Your hand stilled, your eyes popped open, and your vision filled with the blanket of night and stars studded it. “Unaffected, huh?”

You tear your gaze away; embarrassment, desire, and anger all consume you at once—like an Everything bagel made up of all your worst parts. You peered into the room, eyes adjusting to the darkness before landing on Aizen leaning against the wall in a corner. You couldn’t help but take him in; he stood there, shirt open, exposing his chest and stomach. Your eyes roamed over the exposed skin; He was all lean muscle that tapered off into a slim waist. Your eyes lingered on the faint smattering of rich brown hair that trailed from his belly button and disappeared beneath the band of his pants. 

Aizen started towards you, stepping over the threshold and entering the moonlight. His brown hair, usually primmed and slicked back, hung loosely in his face—damped; tiny droplets dripped onto his shirt and chest. 

Did he get out of the shower? The thought crossed your mind. He stopped in front of you, brown eyes alight with… humor? 

What was so amusing to him? 

He stood over you for a moment, eyes so intense it was like he held the tip of his Zanpakutō against your neck. Your breathing shallowed; your eyes felt like sand. You couldn’t tear your gaze from him. It was all too much, but the stubborn part of you, the one you constantly fought with—denying any part of wanting Aizen-- began to crumble against the weight of your desire. You couldn’t stand this anymore. 

If there was one thing he was good at, it was making you cum. 

“Lor—,” you stopped yourself, remembering that he didn’t like it when you used his title in private. “Sōsuke,” you breathed, his name tasting like lemon on your tongue—electrifying, tart, sweet, addictive. “I…I need…” You trailed off, and doubt crept in, settling in your marrow. Could you really, truly admit that you needed his help? Admit it to him? Would that make you look as pathetic as you felt? 

You didn’t know, and honestly, you couldn’t think about it for too long. With defiance set in your jaw, you tried again. “I need…”

You trailed off again. You couldn’t do it. 

“How amusing,” Aizen said, cutting you off. He broke the trance and walked towards a small sofa on the far side of his balcony. Sitting down, feet planted firmly into the ground, legs spread, with one arm draped behind the back of the couch; the other found its way into his hair, pushing the wet locks off his forehead. The moon shined brightly, casting Aizen in its pale hue, his brown eyes sparkling, the corners of his mouth pulled up. He was amused by your situation. “Is it so hard for you to ask for what you want? To ask me for what you need,” he laughed, though the sound was hollow. “Do you truly despise me?”

You don’t answer.

You can’t.

“Right,” Aizen sighed, rubbing his hand down his face as if washing away the glimmer of vulnerability that threatened to show. He pulled his hand away, his gaze locking onto you again; gone was the glint of humor. What stared back at you was his mask of indifference— cold and vacant. “Take care of it, then.” 

“What?” You asked, stupefied. Your fingers twitched, ready to do as he commanded, but the weight of his words slammed into you. 

“Were my instructions not clear?” Aizen asked, eyes roaming over you, lingering at the space between your thighs, then your breast before he met your gaze. “Take care of your problem,” he shifted forward, fingers steepled, arms resting on his thighs. “Make yourself cum in front of the man you hate.”

“That’s…you… I…” you stumbled over your words, your brain unable to form a coherent sentence. You bit your lower lip. Hard. Blood bubbled to the surface, and metallic coats the tip of your tongue. “I can’t do that, Sōsuke. Why are you making me—”

“Lift your skirt.”

The command was final. Your body trembled. Your hands moved before you could truly process what was happening. Hooking your digits beneath the hem, you slowly rose the material up. Cool air brushed your fevered flesh, and goosebumps peppered your thighs as they became exposed to the night. You kept your eyes on Aizen, defiance still embedded into your bones. You weren’t going to rush to give him what he wanted. He would wait. Maybe this could be your way of paying him back for tasking you with such an embarrassing thing. 

But as you continued to move your skirt up incrementally, nearing your waist and exposing your damp panties, Aizen didn’t react. His eyes stayed cold and vacant. 

Your heat met the coolness of the night when the hem of your skirt bunched up at your waist. You sat there, legs planted into the ground, skirt up, pussy facing the source of your irritation. “Now what?” 

“Where does it ache?”

“Ache?” You repeat, confused. 

“Yes. That throbbing inside of you. That tingling that makes you so sensitive. The same one begging to be touched. Where is it?”

You sat there, legs wanting to close, but you kept them open, your mind focused on the ache inside, wanting to satiate it. Your hand released your skirt and trailed up and down your thigh in an absentminded caress before meeting the hem of your panties. The contact was subtle, but it elicited a tremble from you. 

“Here,” you said, rubbing the damp spot of your panties again and again, relishing in the trembles that coursed through you. “The ache is here.”

“Yes.” Aizen said, leaning back against the couch. “It’s inside of you.”

You moaned when your finger brushed over a particular spot. Your mind going hazy. “I…” you pant. “I want…how…”

“Slip your finger underneath your panties.”

You do as Aizen says, hooking a digit beneath the seam.

“Do you feel it? Feel how wet you are?” 

Wetness coats your finger. You closed your eyes as your head lolled back, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. You rubbed back and forth against your intimate flesh. 

“Spread yourself apart,” Aizen’s voice wafts around you like a spell. “Sink your fingers inside, and tell me how you feel.”

You’re not sure when you became so docile, following every single instruction Aizen gave, but at this moment, you didn’t care. You slipped your fingers between your heated flesh, surprised by how pulsing and hot you were. You mewled, your other hand finding its way to your breast, squeezing and teasing your taut nipple.

“Y/N,” Aizen voice snaked around you like a blanket, making your fevered flesh hotter; your cunt tightened around your finger as you thrust in and out. “I didn’t say you could touch your breast.”

You pouted, hand stilling on the plumped flesh, but you kept your fingers moving inside you.

“How do you feel?”

“G-good,” you managed, rocking your hips forward as you inserted another digit. 

“Spread your legs wider. Show me everything.”

You did as instructed. Your thighs fell open, and you released your breast and pulled your panties to the side, baring yourself to the man you despised. His eyes never left yours, and with each thrust, you felt your body coil up, tightly wounded and ready to launch. 

You were so, so close. Your orgasm bubbled within you like soap meeting water. You chased it, plunging your digits deeper and faster as your gaze never left Aizen’s. You rocked your hips, begging for the relief to finally hit you, to finally feel free from the torture of neglect that Aizen ignited. But…

It wasn’t enough. Even when you kept thrusting and rocking, shifting positions, and coming up on your knees to reach deeper, you weren’t able to reach the peak you so desperately craved. Your ache was much deeper, and your fingers wouldn’t reach it.

“I…” you cried in frustration, slowing your hand as your grip lessened on the damp material. “I need…”

“Use your words,” Aizen said, unfazed. 

Embarrassment. Desperation. Irritation. All emotions that stirred within you scream at you for what you said next. “You. I need you.”

The corners of Aizen’s mouth lifted as he shifted in his seat. “Was that so hard?” He asked, running a hand through his hair. “Come here.”

You weren’t sure if your legs were steady enough to walk, so you crawled the short distance to where Aizen sat. Kneeling before him, you glanced up, waiting for his next command. 

“Up.” 

One word. Short and final. 

You placed your hands on his thigh, noting the strength beneath the soft pants he wore, and climbed up, straddling his waist but hovering above him. Aizen grabbed your waist, pulling you down until you were seated in his lap. Without giving you time to protest, he grabbed your nape, forcing you forward until he claimed your mouth. You shivered as his tongue brushed your lips, silently commanding you to open. You did, and when his tongue plunged into your mouth, you gripped his shoulders, thighs clenching around his waist as you opened wider, allowing him more access.

Your tongues glided together. Your fingers threaded in his hair. Your hips rocked, feeling something hard against your heat. Clearly, he wasn’t as unaffected as he appeared.

Aizen shifted beneath you, his engorged flesh pressed directly against your pussy. You moaned, an uncontrollable response to the sudden pressure. You needed him. You needed him inside, stretching you, taking care of the ache you couldn’t reach.

Aizen pulled back, breaking the kiss. Peering up at you, hair a disheveled mess because of your fingers, eyes intense, face flushed. He smiled, “Well?” 

“Well, what?” You asked, breathless.

“Aren’t you going to take care of your ache.” 

Confusion clouded your mind, but only for a moment. What he was hinting at dawned on you. Fine. You’d take what you want if he didn’t do anything about it. Releasing his hair, you trailed your fingers down his chest and his stomach, teasing the strip of hair that led below, disappearing behind the band of his pants. Reaching between you, you wrapped your fingers around Aizen’s length, hearing him inhale sharply. The sound sent a shiver through you, making you feel a sense of accomplishment. 

“Impatient as always,” Aizen said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your chin, then your jaw, leaving a trail down the side of your neck. “You said you need me,” he nipped at your shoulder as you clumsily undid the sash at his waist. “Show me.” He gripped your ass, squeezing so hard you were sure he’d left impressions on your skin. You slipped your fingers inside the wing of his pants, brushing the warmth of his cock. He was so thick you couldn’t wrap your fingers around him. Bringing your other hand down from his hair, you managed to free his heavy cock.

Feeling his wet tip notched at your entryway, you gasped when you slowly sank down. 

“Is it too much for you to do it on your own?” Aizen asked mockingly. 

You groaned, this time in frustration. Sinking down further, his head spread you apart, stretching you. The further you sanked down on him, the more you noticed hints of pain as you adjusted to his girth. It was almost too much. 

Almost.

“More,” Aizen demands, his voice tight and barely controlled. “You can do better than that. Show me how much you need me.”

“I’m…” you pant, rocking your hips to adjust to his thickness, taking more and more of him each time. “Trying.” 

Aizen kept a hand on your ass while the other slipped beneath your top. His fingers brushed the cage of bone that decorated your spine, a remnant of your hollow days. The bone was sensitive, and you shivered as he trailed his fingers up until the cage ended at the nape of your neck. Bringing his hand forward and cupping your breast, he teased the pebbled nipple. You gasped when he pinched it, rocking your hips and relishing in the feel of him sinking deeper.

“Always so angry. Always so distrusting,” Aizen released your ass, gripping your waist instead and pulling you forward. You couldn’t help the pleasure-filled yelp-moan that escaped you because of the sudden movement. It caused your hips to come down until you were fully seated on his lap. His cock was buried inside of you. 

You were so full. 

His cocked stretched you so deliciously wide that the hint of pain barely registered. 

“Are you going to pay me back?” Aizen released your breast and gripped your waist, lifting you a little until his cock was half out. “Get your revenge?” He slammed you down, and your head tipped back. “Take my life?” He lifted you and brought you back down on his cock. 

“Y-yes,” you melted, clutching his shoulders for support. Aizen pulled you forward until your chest rested firmly against him, leaving no space between you as he guided your hips up and down the length of his rod.

“Then you have a lot to show me, Y/N.” Thrust. “Show me how much you need me.” Thrust. “And how much you hate me.” 

Aizen released your waist, hands sliding down your backside until you felt a hard smack against your ass. “Faster.” 

You jolted but obeyed. You moved your hips faster, thighs clutching around Aizen’s waist as you rode him. Your skin was hot, and sweat beaded your forehead. Your braids swayed every time you rose and slammed down onto him. Aizen never took his gaze from you, watching as you took him over and over.

Aizen rubbed his palm over the tender skin of your ass before pulling back and smacking it again. “You can do better than that, Y/N.”

You gasped, clenching around him, nails digging into his shoulders as you rode him faster. Your thighs started to tremble; the strain crept in, but you ignored it. You were so close. You leaned your head back as you began to rub your clit. 

Aizen nipped at your throat, murmuring, “How does it feel?” 

“I.. I…” words were impossible to form as you climbed higher and higher. 

“Tell me,” Aizen nipped at your neck again. “How does is feel to be fucked by the man you hate?” He gripped your ass tighter. “To learn how much you love my cock inside of you?” 

“Oh god,” you whimpered, grinding desperately in his lap, even though your limbs ached and you trembled all over. “I’m going to come.” 

Aizen’s grip tightened, halting your movements. “Tell me how much you love my cock.” He thrust into you once, then stopped.

You grunted, frustrated. “No.”

Aizen pulled out, “You sure?” He slammed into you once more. You cried out. 

“S-stop this, and just…” 

Aizen slammed into you a third time, then stilled. “If you’re not honest, Y/N. I’ll pull out right now.” He thrusts again, a fourth time.

“Sōsuke,” you beg, legs trembling, hot tears gathered at the corner of your eyes. “I-I don’t,” tears spilled over. “I-I can’t.” 

“Can’t what?”

“Forgive myself.” 

Aizen leaned forward, placing his forehead against yours. “You don’t have to.” He slammed into you again, and this time, he didn’t stop. “Tell me. Be honest.”

Your core tightened every time he bottomed out and slammed into you. Your mind was a scrambled mess; incoherent sentences left you and were replaced by a succession of noises you didn’t know you could make. Hot tears streamed down your face, your limbs trembled from the pressure, but your orgasm pulled at you, ready to be released. 

“Y/n…” Aizen grunted, grinding his hips against you when you were seated in his lap. 

Frantic fingers reached forward, threading into Aizen’s hair. “S’feel g-good.” 

“What does?”

“You.” It was the last thing you managed to say before pulling his mouth to yours as your body stiffened and your orgasm exploded through you. He kissed you back hungrily, grunting into your mouth as he rocked his hips against you fucking you through your orgasm. 

His hips bucked once, twice, and on the third one, he came, squeezing you so hard against him that you couldn’t move, breathe, or think. You no longer had strength in your legs, collapsing forward onto Aizen, boneless. You lay against him, listening to his breathing as you tried to get a hold of your own.

Pleasure clouded your mind; the pull of sleep tempted you. Eventually, unconsciousness became the victor. 

You felt movement. 

Steady. Controlled. Almost like you were floating. Your limbs were heavy, eyes refusing to open. Darkness and warmth cradled you everywhere you turned. Awareness slowly seeped into you, and you noticed that you were leaning against something hard. A steady, muffled thud beats against your ear; the hard surface lifts and deflates rhythmically. You stirred, and the cage of warmth tightened.

“Are you awake?” A deep voice asked you, but you were unable to speak. Instead, a string of incoherent sounds escaped, and the deep voice chuckled. “Alright. Sleep, then.” 

As if the voice had a command over your circadian clock, you descended into nothingness once more.

Chapter Text

A bone-chilling cold blanketed the night before, seeping beneath the blankets you nestled under, forcing you to stir. Reaching across the mattress for warmth, you brushed a body next to you, and you shot up. 

You ignored the panic that sliced through you like a dull knife and the head-splitting ache that pierced your skull as you took in your surroundings. You were in a bedroom—a familiar one. Your throat was dry, and even in the cold, sweat beaded your forehead, causing you to shudder.

"What the hell," you whispered in the too-quiet room. Moonlight poured from the double doors of a balcony, spotlighting you in bed. You hadn't noticed that you fisted the cream silk sheet so tightly that your fingers ached when you released it—watching as the smooth fabric slipped between your fingers and pooled on the bed. 

Memories of last night felt unreachable, locked behind a door that your mind refused to open. It made you nervous. It made you feel guilty. You focused on the soft light flooding through the double doors, trying to calm your haggard breathing. 

Why can't I remember anything? 

Anxiety slid down your spine like a cold knife as you reached forward, grabbed the sheet of fabric to cover yourself, and nuzzled further into the bed. A steady soreness thrummed through you— it was almost as bad as spending an entire day in battle. Your thoughts were muddled, a calamity of memories you weren't sure you wanted to unlock, and when the pounding in the front of your head increased, you decided it was best to sleep it off. You pulled the sheet up to your chin and closed your eyes, trying to drift off into sleep--until a soft snoring pulled you back.

Your eyes flew open, you peered over your shoulder, and your breath stopped. 

Literally stopped.

You weren't sure how long you lay there, staring at the man sleeping beside you, but you didn't move. Not until your lungs screamed for you to breathe. That's when the door unlocked, and memories of last night slammed into you like waves crashing upon sand. Horror and rage seeped so deep into your marrow that you couldn't help the nausea that shuddered through you. 

No. No. No. 

You sat up, the blanket pooling at your waist as you stared down at Aizen's sleeping frame. He lay on his back, an arm draped over his face obscuring his eyes, as his light snoring filled the room. His hair fanned out around him, his chest bare. He looked so relaxed laying beside you— radiating so much domesticity that it made your skin crawl. Exhaustion fled your limbs like ants as you bolted from the bed, taking the sheet with you. 

You padded to the foot of the bed and stood, watching Aizen. He slept soundly—bare, except for the sheet that covered his tapered waist. His breathing was even, seemingly at peace. Even though up until a few moments ago, he shared a bed with you--a woman who wanted to end his life— 

Wait. 

End his life.

You scanned Aizen's sleeping frame. He looked so vulnerable, so easy to kill. You crept closer to the bed until you stood over him, your frame casting a shadow over his bare chest and arms. You looked around the room and spotted Aizen's zanpakuto in the corner near a nightstand by the bed. Two steps, and you could grab the blade. In three, you could end his life. 

Silence bared down, crushing you with temptation; it would be so easy to do it—to slash his throat and end your suffering. To watch the life seep from his body, his soul dissolve into nothing as you stood watch, revealing in every last breath he took. 

It would end your turmoil. 

It would stifle your guilt. 

It would end everything. 

But…

…you couldn't. Not yet.

Sighing, you pulled the sheet tighter around you, tucking a corning behind the fabric. Killing Aizen wouldn't bring you closer to finding your sister. 

No. 

You'd find her, then you'd end him. 

But until then…

You glanced at him once more, taking in his handsome face. His brown hair disheveled against the ivory pillow, his arm draped over his eyes—shielding his view of you. Full lips were slightly parted, and his chest slowly rose and deflated with every breath; he was a vision of contentment.

And you were a ballad of anger.

Even when your heart gave an unsteady thud as you watched him, even as goosebumps covered your skin when you stood near him, you were angry. Angry and--

You had to get out of there. 

You didn't know where you were going.

You didn't care.

You just started walking—going wherever your feet took you. Roaming semi-bare in Aizen's massive suite, you gripped the sheet that covered you as you stalked across the sandstone floors and ventured into a narrow hallway deep within the shadow embrace.  

You've never been to this wing of Aizen's suite, but as you kept walking, you determined there wasn't anything of note. The hall was empty; there were no windows nor doors, only an all-consuming darkness and an unrelenting cold. The further you went, the colder it became, and regret sat in your stomach like lead at your hasty retreat-- leaving Aizen's bedroom with nothing but a thin sheet to shield you wasn't the best idea. 

The silence was deafening. Your breathing felt like a knife upon a glass with every exhale. Life didn't exist in this wing, only shadow and despair—and you felt like an intruder. Still, you kept going. You had no desire to go back into that room. You had no desire to face the man who shattered your defenses. The man you clung to and confessed your guilt. The same man who taunted and tormented you. The man you hated. The man whose embrace you slept in and felt comfort. 

It was disgraceful and a testament to Aizen's manipulation because you would never find comfort in the arms of the man who destroyed your family. 

Never.

A sliver of light flashed at the end of the long, darkened hallway, bringing you to a halt. 

There wasn't a single presence of life in this hall, and its shadows were so dense there was no way light could penetrate. Even with your Hollow eyesight, you couldn't see past your fingers. You stood in place and waited. The light could have been a figment of your imagination—a phenomenon your mind conjured up because of your distress. But still, you waited and waited. You had to be sure.

You didn't know how much time had passed, but when your lungs started to strain, begging you to release the breath you didn't know you were holding, you decided that you imagined the light. 

"I'm going mad,"  you whispered in the nothingness. Relaxing your shoulders, you tightened your grip on the sheet wrapped around you and glanced over your shoulder. Nothing but velvet darkness greeted you.  The never-ending wing was disorientating, a manipulation of time in a void. You had no clue where you were and weren't entirely sure if you were still in Aizen's room. Las Noches was new, but Hueco Mundo was old. There have been kingdoms built upon these sands way before Aizen settled here, and standing in this void of darkness, you felt it—an ancient power surrounding you.

You moved forward, pushing the image of the flashing light, old kingdoms, and ancient walls to the back of your mind. This wasn't a time to hallucinate—

The flash appeared again. 

Then, it disappeared and reappeared once more, pulsing slowly like a beacon—as if it beckoned you. 

You didn't move from your spot as you watched it flicker on and off, on and off. Your instincts screamed at you to run; a predator turned prey who needed to escape the unknown, not follow the light. But a small, curious part of you wanted to see what it was and where it led. 

You conjured up your cero and held the flame in a half-released state, a skill that took immense concentration. Even with your cero, its warmth bathing your palms and warming you from the inside, you couldn't see more than a few feet ahead of you. You took one final look behind you, then prowled forward, one hand clutching the sheet around you, the other behind your back, nestling the small cero bud. "I needed the distraction," you whispered, and the light flashed again. "Let's find out what you are."

You stood before a dead end, and the light was nowhere to be found.

You followed it for a while. Watching as it flashed on and off, on and off, and moved further down the hall as you neared it. It was definitely guiding you. But as you stood at the end of the hall, surrounded by white walls and an overhead window with the moon sitting high up, spotlighting you in its silver light, you wondered what was the point. 

"That was underwhelming," you sighed, glancing around. A faint scent of stale sulfur invaded your nose, causing you to retch as you scanned the small alcove. This area was old. Really old and untouched. The walls weren't the sterile white you were used to seeing, but instead, coated in grime with cracks in the foundation that spiderwebbed all over, even reaching as high as the window in the ceiling. The floors were littered with dirt, and grains of sand embedded themselves into the soles of your feet as you shuffled closer to one of the walls, back into the shadow and away from the moonlight. Peaks of twig cracked through the floors, some growing along the walls like vines, while others stood firm and sharp like spikes, waiting for an unfortunate soul to step on it. You've encountered those twigs before; they were lethal. 

The feeling of primordial power still lingered, making goosebumps coat your skin and causing your senses to remain on high alert. The power wasn't suffocating like Aizen's. No. It felt solid in that it will always exist —from lifetime to lifetime; it felt calm and unmovable, expansive yet unfathomable. Even though your nerves were high, you didn't feel scared. You leaned against a wall in the alcove and continued to look around. Darkness still resided in the hallway, but the moonlight shone only here.

Gazing up at the crescent moon, you whispered, "What now?"  You weren't sure if the light that guided you here was sentient, and the longer you stood there alone, you began to question your sanity. "What was the point of bringing me here?" You asked anyway. 

No response.

Maybe you did conjure the light from your mind—a physical indication of your sanity cracking. You sank further into the wall, its coolness an anchor to the present. 

"Where is she?" You asked, barely above a whisper. A faint breeze tousled the sheet around you, brushing against your bare ankles. It was the only warning before the wall you leaned on gave way—a slight jolt that sent you stumbling backward. Quick as an arrow, you spun, cero ignited in your palm, and poised yourself to attack. 

But nothing was there. 

Except for the wall that wasn't a wall but a door — and the dark room beyond it.

Chapter Text

You stood underneath the moonlight, cero alight in one hand, the other clutched the thin bedsheet. You hadn't moved since discovering a hidden room behind an ancient wall. 

You glanced around— nobody was around. Slowly, you crept towards the door, a cold breeze greeted you as you neared the threshold and took in what was beyond. 

Stairs. 

Ancient stone stairs spiraled down and down, dipping into the impenetrable darkness that lived in this wing. Even as you held your cero out to alight the space, it only revealed a never-ending spiral of stairs. 

"This," you began, toeing the threshold, debating if you wanted to descend the abyss. "This is what the light wanted to show me."

Taking one last look around the hall and up at the moon, you stepped over the threshold, the stone stairs frigid against your bare feet, and descended. 

A damp mustiness invaded your nose, and you bit down on your lip to distract yourself from the scent. Just like the alcove upstairs, this area of Las Noches hadn't been touched in a long time—you could practically feel the dust and grime coating your skin. The flame of your cero cast your shadow along the stone wall. The silence was so piercing that you could hear the pounding in your ears. The darkness here felt different. Alive. The darkness watched you: every step, every breath, every glance, testing and seeing and waiting— and it only revealed a bit of its vastness once it felt satisfied with the conditions you unknowingly met. 

You felt unnerved, and it pricked your scalp. You fought through the urge to flee. 

From what you could see, you noticed how the walls were cracked, spiderwebbing up and up until they dipped into the void above. Even though you couldn't see, you felt a cold draft from above and knew there wasn't a ceiling overhead. This area was a tunnel, expanding toward the sky and down beneath the ground. 

You didn't think Aizen knew about this old part of his domain—and if he did, he didn't care enough to do anything about it. You continued to creep down the stairs, shivering as the coldness blanketed you. Your senses were on high alert, ears straining to catch any microcosm of sound; you tested the limits of your heightened eyesight—straining to see clearly in the dark. It proved useless. 

You continued descending, questioning why you were even here. What was the point of following the odd light that led you here? For all you knew, it could be a trap — another test of Aizen's to tease your curiosity. You wouldn't put it past him to do it. 

But, the further you ventured into the unknown depths, the less that idea held weight. Finally, the stairs ended, and you found yourself in front of a door. 

"The palace of doors," you sighed, frustrated. You pressed a hand on the cool stone, and the door moved slightly until you heard a clink, and the door stopped moving. You pushed again, but it wouldn't budge. "You've got to be kidding me."

Extinguishing your cero, you placed both hands on the dusty stone and pushed. The door wouldn't move. Feeling slighted at the effort, you dug your heels into the ground and pushed again. You could feel your muscles straining with the effort. The door started to move; it creaked open until it eventually swung, and you stumbled inside. 

And stepped on bone. 

Lots and lots of bone. 

Moonlight pistoned from above, thrusting you from the dense darkness of the hall to the white glow of light as you took in the labyrinth of catacombs splayed before you. For a moment, the world stopped. Stopped and then started as you stood rooted. White, brittle bone littered, littered, the ground. Hollow masks, once whole, now cracked and ruined, peaked beneath the rubble. You stepped forward; a loud crunch echoed off the stone walls and ricocheted throughout the spiral room.  Your chest tightened with each step, and each sound of a bone being decimated rang loud in your ears—but it couldn't be avoided. There was too many bones that, even if you tried, there would be no way you could avoid stepping on it. 

Even though you've taken lives, the bones that littered this labyrinth were ludicrous.

"What is this place?" You whispered, clouds of white pooled in front of your mouth, a reminder of the stifling cold that rattled you to your core. It was a dumb question; you knew what this place was. It was a graveyard. 

A graveyard of Hollows. 

You continued to move around the room, circling the edge of the space the moonlight spotlighted. The graveyard was old, ancient like this entire section of Las Noches, but not every corpse was ancient—you could tell by how easily the bone snapped beneath your feet. Some were paper thin, while others were rigid, dangerous, splintered, broken, and sharp; they could cause severe damage if you stepped on it wrong. 

You moved around the room, taking it in. What happened here? Who were these people? 

You wondered, but you knew the questions wouldn't be answered. Symbols were carved along the walls. You ran your fingers along the rough carvings, traced the imperfect indentures, and wished you could read it. Maybe it told a story. 

Maybe it told nothing.

Something glinted out of the corner of your eye, and you moved closer to it, drawn to the iridescent hue among the decrepit rubble, and as you neared the glow, you felt the need to stop. 

Stop moving towards it. 

Stop, stop, stop.

The feeling was so strong that it pulled at all of your instincts. But it didn't make sense; you've seen more morbid things than a deserted graveyard. You've done far more heinous things than you'd like to admit, but for some reason, this, this, made you want to run. Flee.

You fingered the sheet wrapped snuggly around you. You had almost forgotten it was there and pushed forward. There was no reason for you to feel rattled. This was what fear felt like; it was such a foreign sensation that you didn't know how to process it. There was nothing down here with you and the dead—nothing but darkness and the quiet. 

Except. 

You moved closer to the glinting object, determination pushing you forward. There was nothing anything could do down here. Nothing could hurt you down here. Not the darkness, not the quiet, not this object that beckoned to you like a siren song. Nothing.

Except, you were wrong. And in fact, an object could hurt or even destroy you. Because when you stood before the remnant of a Hollow hand, pale and white, it shined like stardust in the moonlight, and finally, finally saw the glinting object that dangled from a slender, bone finger, your breath fled your lungs.

Because the object that called to you, and begged you to ignore your instinct to run, was not just any object. It was a necklace. 

A delicately corded necklace made of vine and bone held a smooth moss green, oval pendant at its center. This necklace wasn't old like everything else down here. No. Even coated in dust, it still held a shine—still highlighted the delicate craftsmanship in the details.

Your chest tightened as you took the necklace off the boned finger. Water crested the rim of your eye, and you no longer could breathe—feeling as if you floated amongst the grave of Hollows: lost, broken, and wilted. All because of a simple truth that slammed into you, shattering your resolve into tiny minuscule pieces, like ice on concrete.

The necklace was familiar. 

The necklace belonged to your sister. 

You didn't remember how you made it upstairs and back into the long hallway above ground. You just walked until nothing was left around you except for the suffocating shadow and darkness that seemed to be alive—that seemed to watch you as you walked and walked. The moon even left you—winking out of existence as soon as you found what you were led to. 

Led to. 

Someone or something led you to the room — led you to find…

No. No.

There was no way it would be in a place like that—a place so devoid of warmth, riddled with death and heartbreak and rage. There was no way she was down there. The necklace being there had to be a coincidence. It was there, and she wasn't. 

She wasn't. She couldn't be because your sister was alive. She was alive. She was fighting. She was holding on. She was waiting for you.

So, you left the room and started walking and walking, clutching the necklace in your hand, feeling the grooves of the indentures in the bone, relishing in the familiar etched carvings, but feeling how rage bubbled inside of you. 

You didn't know where you were going. You had no plan.  You had no destination. Your feet moved, and you let them.

And your feet led you back to Aizen's bedroom.

You stood at the edge of the bed where he slept and stared down at him, fingering the pendant in your hand. You watched him. You rubbed the pendant. You watched him some more and rubbed the pendant. 

No, not the pendent. You rubbed your sister's pendant, which was so prominent and visceral in your youth that you'd recognized it from anywhere. She never took it off. It was a part of her, and you found it in a dilapidated basement underneath Aizen's room. 

His room. 

Anger radiated off of you in silent waves. Boiling you from the inside and spilled out in silent resolve as you watched him sleep. Everything felt tight—every breath you took filled your lungs with glass, scratching every soft tissue inside of you until you were raw, open, and bleeding. 

Your limbs hung at your sides. Your vision blurred, boarding on black, and all you could focus on was the pendant in your hands and the man in your bed. 

His bed. 

There was nothing between you. 

And there'd never be. 

Because he lied, and taunted, and manipulated you. He broke you and took everything from you. He claimed you, your life, your body, your he—

Stop. 

And it still wasn't enough because it will never be enough, not for him or you.

And that was what sealed your resolve as you padded to his Zanpakuto near the nightstand and grabbed it. The metal peaks behind the jade green ribbon were cool against your hot palm. You climbed onto the bed and held the sword above Aizen, his sleeping frame undisturbed by you. 

You breathed. In and out. In and out.

And you brought the sword down upon him.

Chapter Text

"I always knew you'd attempt to end my life while I slept." 

Aizen's sleep-riddled voice penetrated your fog of rage. You straddled him, poised above with his Zanpakuto hovering over his chest. But you couldn't move.  Frozen mid-attack because Aizen gripped the blade with his bare hands and stopped it mere inches from where it would pierce him. 

"Are you going to tell me why I awoke to a blade pointed at my heart? Or, are you content with savagely running me through?" He stared up at you, brown eyes unreadable, but they pinned you in place—made you hesitate, but only for a moment. You tightened your grip on the blade; your sister's necklace swayed, clinking against your hands, and the metal peaks on the Zanpakuto. 

He will not live, not after tonight.

"You are scum," you seethed, baring down on him, leaning your weight into the attack—pressing the sword closer to his chest. There was nothing left for you here. Absolutely nothing. So you pressed and pressed, your determination to end him welled inside of you like lava poised to erupt. You will kill him. Even if you lose your life, it would be a small price to pay to end his and drag him to the afterlife with you. "You are a liar."

The blade started to slip between Aizen's fingers, slicing his flesh as it inched closer to his chest. Vermillion dripped free, staining the blade, the pristine sheets, and his smooth skin painted white by the moonlight from the balcony door.

Good. His blood should stain more. The tiled floors. Your hands. Everything . 

"A liar?" Aizen repeated, his voice so calm, so unbothered by what was unfolding. "What exactly did I lie about?"

You wished he would stop talking. Stop living . Fueled by your rage, you tightened your grip on your sister's necklace and the hilt of the blade; you weren't about to let him go, not after discovering something your sister held dear in his possession.

All this time, he pretended not to know who your sister was. He pretended that he didn't know anything about her, and yet…

…yet he had something so dear to her in his possession, scattered and discarded among a grave of bone. Bone that could have belonged—

You screamed. A guttural yell that ripped from the pit of your stomach and clawed, clawed, clawed its way up to your chest, expanding your lungs until pain seared. Your agonized scream filtered up your throat until it peeled the inner lining raw. Regret crested the rim of your eyes and threatened to spill down your cheeks as heat filled you and your body contorted, preparing to shift. 

You pressed harder on the sword with one hand and conjured a cero in your other hand. There was a brief moment when Aizen's mask of control slipped, and you saw an unfiltered stunned gleam in his eyes. 

You hauled the cero at him. In such close proximity, there was no way you wouldn't burn from the blast as well. But it didn't matter; your life was mute; his death was a victory. 

The red orb of destruction shifted directions and crashed into the adjacent wall near the bed, blasting a hole through the plaster and causing rubble to crumble to the ground, and plumes of smoke covered the room. Of course, he avoided the attack. 

But that didn't stop you. You felt the cascade of bone that decorated your spine as it splintered and expanded, making room so the slits at your back split open, and you felt your wings peak through your skin. It's been a while since you've shifted into your true form, and there was a hint of pain as the gilded feathers broke through your flesh. 

Aizen shifted, moving so quickly he disarmed the Zanpakuto from your grasp, the clash of metal hitting the tiled floor loud in the room. He sat up, gripping your arm and pinning it behind your back in an attempt to flip you backward onto the bed. But he hadn't noticed your hands. Or, rather, your claws. Your long, deadly, poisonous claws. 

You managed to grip his neck as he slammed you back, the tips of your nails piercing the sides of his neck. Aizen hissed.

"You're beautiful."

"Fuck you," you spat as you tightened your grip and felt his skin split beneath your claws. 

"Hm. Bad timing," Aizen said smoothly. "But it's always a treat to see you shift without releasing your Zanpakuto. Even if it's only a partial shift." He sucked in a sharp breath when you bucked your hips to try and maneuver him off of you. "You still haven't explained what is going on."

"You are a liar. A damned liar."

"Yes, you've established that," he said, tightening his hold on your arm and gripping your waist with his free hand, stilling your movement. "But why am I a liar? You're angry. So dangerously angry, and you haven't told me a damn thing."

"Don't play dumb, Sosuke ," you sneered his name like it was bile and tried to twist your hips again, but you couldn't move an inch. Damn it, why was he so strong? He wasn't even trying to fight you; he didn't even use his spiritual pressure or any kido. He didn't use anything except for his brute strength against you and subdued you so easily. So, pathetically.

And that knowledge angered you—snapping the already paper-thin cord that held the nanoscopic bit of your sanity together. 

"I'm not one to play dumb—"

You turned your head and sunk your elongated canines into Aizen's forearm. You broke the skin and tasted the metallic blood on your tongue. 

"Childish," Aizen grunted but didn't release his hold.

"You knew her!" You shouted, feeling his blood run down the corner of your mouth. "You knew her and pretended that you didn't! You—"

" Who ?" Aizen shouted back, momentarily stunning you. He never shouted. Through the rage that filled your vision, you focused on him—his face, his eyes, and you saw it. The anger sitting there—honed, rich, and blazing. 

"My sister, you asshole."

"Your sister," he repeated slowly, unsure. Then, "Your sister?" 

"Yes, my sister!" You felt the warmth of your cero ignite in the palm of the hand pinned behind your back. "My sister. You—you took her from me, made me work for you, forced me to sleep with you under the promise of my freedom, for her freedom." The cero was hot, ready to erupt, and you could feel it sear your palm and warm the sheets beneath you. "I did everything you commanded because I—I—" you trailed off. Why did you stay instead of running? Was it all because you needed Aizen to find your sister? Were you using him? Was sleeping with him, sharing his bed, doing his bidding really just for the sake of finding your sister? Or was it something else--some other disastrous reason you stuck around? 

"I don't know your sister," Aizen said, voice low. "I didn't even know you had a sister."

The cero grew, and you felt heat lick your back, the flame rising, and smoke pillowed around you. "Liar."

You released the orb, content with setting the bed, the room, and both of you on fire. Red clouded your vision, smoke filled your nose, the hold Aizen had on you loosened, and you moved, shifting to your knees and—

You felt hands around your waist, and you swung, claws extended and pierced flesh. The sound of wall concaving filled the room; your cero missed its mark again. But you didn't stop; you scrambled to move away from the bed and onto the floor, but Aizen wouldn't let go. You kicked and punched; some of your attacks landed, but most didn't. You swung and swung until you tumbled to the ground, the cool floor meeting your cheek as you tried to scramble to your feet and find purchase. But as you moved, strong hands grabbed your arm and flipped you onto your back—your head crashed into the unforgiving ground with a noticeable thud.

"Let go of me," you yelled. You tried to move your wings, but they were bunched up beneath you. 

"No," Aizen said; he hovered above you on the ground, pinning your hands above your head, and pressed himself into you to stop you from moving. The smoke from your cero cleared, and you could see him above you. Wavy brown hair disheveled and hanging forward, framing his face. He flexed his jaw, and his eyes pierced yours with so much uncertainty that it voided your lungs of breath. 

Why did he look so, so unsure? So angry but confused? And why did your heart thud so loudly in your chest? Why did his expression pull you from your rage? Why did you care ?

"I didn't know you had a sister," he said, panting. "I wouldn't have held that over your head. I didn't—"he stopped talking, jaw working as he stared down at you. "Y/N," he breathed, his voice so low, so filled with… what? Remorse? He wasn't capable of it. Aizen was such a liar that even now, you felt it in every fiber of your being that he was manipulating you. 

Not because he needed or cared about you but because he could. This was all a game to him. All of it. You were nothing in the grand scheme of his plan, and that reality sat so heavy on your chest you felt as if you'd suffocate. 

So why did a quiet, solemn voice in your head whisper the opposite? 

"Call me whatever you want to call me," Aizen said, leaning so close to you that you shared breath. You saw the claw marks on his neck from where you dug in your lethal claws and pierced him; you saw the long, jagged, and uneven scratch marks on his chest from when you attacked moments before; soot stained his arms, your teethed marred his flesh, and still, still, he spoke so low, so gently to you, as if you'd break if he breathed wrong in your direction, it made you want to scream. 

"Scum, evil, no good asshole," his grip tightened on your wrist as you hurled insults at him. 

"But I didn't lie to you. Not once."

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" You growled, the anger building back up. "You are nothing but a manipulator. A greedy, lying manipulator who doesn't give a shit about anyone except yourself."

"I am," he admits. "But I never lied to you." 

"You're lying now," you shouted. And Aizen leaned forward, brushed his lips against your forehead, and you couldn't help the shiver that involuntarily coursed through you.

"Stop," you said, voice cracking.

"No," Aizen said, tracing featherlight kisses from your forehead down the side of your face and resting on your neck. 

"I said, stop." You repeated, desire mixed with the anger that coursed through you. "Don't touch me."

Aizen hesitated, tightening his grip on your wrist. He didn't kiss you again, only nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. 

"I'm everything you said I am," he whispered, pressing himself into you to the point that you could feel the full expanse of his body. "Every single vile thing, and I'm going to continue to be that person because I have a goal. A vision. One that I will reach regardless of who gets in my way." He pressed his lips to your neck again, and you sucked in a sharp breath, your protest died on your tongue. "I will destroy, manipulate, and break any and all who get in the way of my goal." He kissed your chin and the corner of your mouth and then peppered kisses further down, tracing your collarbone. "And there's no room to lie about something that wouldn't benefit me in the long run." Aizen nestled between your thighs as his warm, dangerously deceitful mouth trailed down your hot skin and between the valley of your breast. His tongue caressed the supple flesh, eliciting an unwilling moan from you. 

"There is only one thing I want in my life," he nipped your taut nipple, and you couldn't help the way your hips jerked forward, meeting his thick cock that pressed against you. Aizen moved further down your body, stopped to place a kiss on your stomach, and dipped his tongue inside your belly button. He moved further down and trailed kisses from one hip to the other. He gathered your wrist in one hand while the other lifted your thigh, placing it over his shoulder. 

"Actually," he said, hovering at your entrance, warmness pooling at your folds from the warmth of his breath. "There are two things I want in my life, and I wouldn't jeopardize them over a meaningless fable." 

His tongue slid up your dripping, treacherous folds before circling your clit with such firm pressure a choked moan escaped you. Your fingers curled into fists, and your belly swooped. This was so, so wrong. You were angry at him—absolutely devastated by what you found beneath his chambers. You shouldn't allow him to be this close to you—he shouldn't have his head between your legs and his tongue inside of you. 

But what if you're wrong? The small voice from earlier piqued as Aizen's tongue ran along your core and pushed inside, reaching the depths of you and drawing out slowly.

"I'm not wrong," you panted, answering the tiny voice of your subconscious. 

"Y/N," Aizen released your wrist and lifted both of your legs over his shoulder, and gave your pussy one long lick that made your toes curl, and your vision blacken briefly. "You're wrong this time." 

He dipped his tongue inside of you and thumbed your clit. You arched off the ground, grinding against his relentless tongue, feeling the pressure of your release building. Your thighs tightened around his head, and Aizen groaned. He pulled his tongue out and latched onto your sensitive bud while his long fingers dipped inside you. 

You sank your teeth into your bottom lip, stifling the whine that threatened to spill. Aizen alternated between long strokes of his fingers and flicks of his tongue as he worked you near the edge—devouring you like he was begging for forgiveness, and the only way to gain that was by making you cum. 

Aizen slipped his tongue back inside you while he rubbed your clit, and you groaned, tears crested your lids at the intensity of your ache. 

Anger.

Need.

Betrayal.

Lust.

Conflicting emotions mingled inside of you at this very moment, and you couldn't tell what was up from down. Your rage screamed at you, beckoned you to kill him because you knew, knew, he lied about knowing your sister. But another, more insane part of you believed what he said, that he didn't know. But right now, the only thing you did know for certain was that you were about to cum. Hard, fast, and messy—and all over the face of the man you hated and—-

Aizen latched onto your clit once more, sucking hard, and you dug your heels into his back as the rolling ecstasy coursed through you. You cried as stars danced around your vision, and your body convulsed in shock and pleasure. Your nails shifted between your true form claws and your humanoid form; the wings at your back went rigid, locked in spent space.  You helplessly jerked your hips against his mouth and heard him hum in approval. He didn't stop. Even when the sensations became too much, tears spilled down your face, your shifting form stuck in between time. He kept sucking, licking, and at one point he nipped at your most sensitive spot. Your orgasm felt endless. 

Finally, Aizen pulled back and placed kisses on your inner thigh, keeping you still as after-waves of pleasure rolled through you. 

"I loathe you," you heaved, vision blurry and chest tight.

"I know," he said, kissing your thigh. "You won't forever. One day," he trailed kisses down your leg, placing a kiss at the crux of your knee, then your calve, and your ankle. "Your opinion of me will change." 

"Not on your life," you gritted through bared teeth. 

"One day." He kissed the sole of your foot, then traced the same path of kisses on your other leg. "I am a patient man, I've told you that."

"Well, I should say "this is surprising," but you and I both know it is not," Gin said, following you down the sterile hallway. He intercepted you the moment you left Aizen's room, and the mere sight of him made you want to reach for the blade that rested at your hip—except it wasn't there. 

Damn it. 

You were still upset, and every time memories of last night surfaced, you couldn't help but feel rage and embarrassment ripple in you. 

"Gin," you said stiffly. "To what deity should I blame," you paused and coughed, feigning like you were clearing your throat. "I mean, thank, for gracing me with your presence?" You gave him a sickly saccharine smile. 

Gin didn't miss a beat. He tucked his arms inside the long sleeves of his jacket and threw you a sidelong glance. "Creepy," he said cocking his head. "I prefer you tightly wound with your fangs bared and ready to end my life. You're more exciting that way."

"I just woke up. Give me a few minutes, and I can grant your wish."

"Ah, there's that charm."

You rolled your eyes and continued down the hall, expecting Gin to leave, but he followed you. Agitated, you turned, stopping before him with your arms crossed in front of your chest. You didn't speak, only stared at him with one brow ticked up—waiting. 

Gin lifted his hands, palms facing you in a placating gesture. "Oh, fine, no need of being coy." He lowered his hands. "Especially with you."

Silence stretched between you, and you desperately wanted this to end so you could return to your chambers. You needed time to sit—to think. But nobody would leave you alone. Well, except Aizen. The man you tried and failed to kill last night. After he made you cum, more than once, at some point, you passed out, and when you awoke, he was gone. You immediately left his room, scrambling to go back to your chambers to sort out the mess of emotions jumbled inside of you. But then Gin showed up, and you didn't have time for his bullshit.

So, you stood and waited. The weight of your sister's necklace rested against the column of your neck. 

A wide Cheshire grin spread across Gin's face as he said, "So, did you have fun killing my friend in the World of the Living?"

Chapter Text

"Excuse me?"

"Oh? You don't remember? Are lives that meaningless to you?" Gin asked cocking his head. " Delightful ." 

This had to be a trap. There was no way Gin knew that you were the one to dispatch his minion in the World of the Living. He didn't even know that you and Grimmjow were in the hallway that day. If he did, he wouldn't have spoken so openly.

Unless… 

…It was a trap. You wouldn't doubt that Gin set you up so that you owed him something in return—he'd be yet another person who held power over your fate. "Refresh my memory," you said, crossing your arms and ignoring the sweat that beaded your forehead. "I've taken a lot of lives."

"Well, yes, you have," Gin waved his hand dismissively. "You are Lord Aizen's favorite murderer."

The lights beamed above, clashing with the pristine white walls, making you feel suffocated in the too-bright space. Your chest felt tight, but you stood there, masking the panic that crept through your limbs with the familiar mask of indifference you wore every time you were sent to do Aizen's bidding. What does he want?

"This friend," Gin continued. "Is.. well, was, rather unique. I've doubt you've seen many Mantrem in Karakura town, or ever, really."

Mantrem ? So, that's what he was. Images of his mismatched limbs, cruel voice, and sinister eyes flared in your memory, and you suppressed a chill. "Doesn't ring a bell."

"Of course," Gin smiled as he moved towards you, eyeing you up and down. "It doesn't matter if you remember him, really. That's not why I am here."

"Finally," you said, ignoring how all the saliva in your mouth dried up. "Are you going to tell me why you cornered me in the hallway?"

"Cornered? Dramatic aren't we?" He laughed. You didn't. "Fine, fine." He stepped back, sobering. "You saw it last night, didn't you? The light?"

The light?

Realization slammed into you as everything melted away: the sterile white hall, the coolness that lingered in the empty space. You were hyper-aware of your breathing, which felt as loud as the blood pounded in your ears and pulsed in your veins.

H e… "What?" 

"You're dense today, aren't you?" Gin said, cocking his head and hooking a long, boney finger beneath his chin. "The light from last night."

"I don—"

"No use in denying it. I know you followed it beneath Lord Aizen's bedroom," Gin said. "Tell me, did you find anything interesting?"

"Did I—?" You paused—your nerves like fire in your veins, scorching you from the inside and seeping into your lungs as you felt the porcelain white close in on you. " How did you know about last night?" You asked, menacingly. Why was he asking you about the light? Or the grave? Was Gin truly a catalyst in the discovery of your sister's pendant? Or did he plant it there? And if he did…

Did Aizen know?

Instinct gripped you, guiding your limbs like a marionette, as a bright red cero conjured in your palm. 

Anger. Pure, unadulterated anger coiled around your throat like a nose, and you were ready to strike. A cool hand gripped your shoulder and halted you in place. "Now, now, is that  anyway to treat someone who helped you?"

" Helped me? " You seethed. Your cero burned bright as you stood rooted in place. Gin dug his nails into your shoulder as he leaned in close; his warm breath brushed your ear, making your stomach twist in knots.

"Well, yes! I helped you. How else where you going to move along with this whole revenge plot?" 

Spots of black crept into your sight. It crowded the unbearable white hall from your sight. How did he know?  "I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Feigning ignorance is becoming tiresome, Y/N," Gin said smoothly, all traces of his faux teasing tone gone. He pulled back enough for you to see his smirk slither into your line of sight as he reached across your front with his free hand and wrapped his slim fingers around your wrist. "Let's just agree that I know everything about you." His cold fingers slid down your wrists, covered your palm, twined his fingers with yours, and extinguished your cero. "You have a goal. A surprisingly noble one for someone of your background," Gin yanked you forward, fleshing your body against his. The hand on your shoulder traveled behind the blade until it latched around the back of your neck like a vise; his lips returned to your ear. "You blame Lord Aizen for the decimation of your family, but are you sure he is the one who did it?" 

You felt heavy like stone manacles clasped your ankles and wrists and rooted you to the hellish hall of white. His words hung in the air, floating around you like smoke—seeping into your skin, pores, and nose, trying to choke you. 

"He did it," you murmured, your breath shallow. "She's gone because of him."

"And you still slept in his bed even though you believe he killed her?"

"I didn't say he killed her!"

"But you implied it," Gin cooed as he leaned in, his grip on your hand tightened. "That's so scandalous. Do you care about your master more than you do your sister?"

"I-I don't—"

"Oh I know! It's your masters cock you care about! Not him. Silly me," Gin laughed. You felt the heat of tears well in your eyes. They did not fall because none of this was true. You didn't choose him over your sister. You'd never do that. You—

But you failed to kill him. A small, cruel voice said. You failed to kill him when you had the chance, and instead, you let him have your body. 

"I didn't fail," you said, voice wavering. Gin's grin widened, and ice-blue eyes stared back at you. It was the first time you've seen his eyes; they were mesmerizing—and unnerving.

"Oh, but you did! But no need to fret. What if I told you that you weren't wrong? Hmm?" 

"What?"

"You weren't wrong in doubting Lord Aizen's involvement in killing your sister." Straight white teeth dazzled in the stark light as Gin's grip tightened around your hand. "In fact, you were spot on, it's almost creepy. " You felt bone snap, the sound loud in the empty hall. Gin pierced your skin with his nail, and you felt blood trickle down your neck. "No, not wrong at all, and it's because I was the one who killed your sister," he goaded.

Anger took your breath, guilt broke your heart, and pain shot through your arm. You were immobile as your inner world crashed down on you—instantly, cataclysmically, and finite. And you never felt so alone. No Gin, no light, no cold. Nothing. You were trapped in a shell, screaming for freedom but waiting to be filled with a purpose, wanting to be possessed to move.

But it never came.

"Well, I didn't kill her exactly." Gin trailed his finger through the blood that leaked down your neck. He released your mangled hand and, hooked a finger beneath your chin and turned your gaze on him, but you didn't see him. "I only killed what you remember of her. She's very much alive in a sapient sense," he paused momentarily. Then, "Well, sort of."

"What do you mean she's alive?" You asked, voice low. 

"Exactly as I said. She is alive, and I know where she is. Would you like to know as well?" 

You flicked your wrist, and pain shot through you, but you stifled the urge to yell. Your breath calmed as you stared into Gin's icy gaze. The urge to kill welled inside of you like a bomb on a timer—ready to detonate at any moment. But this feeling of tightly wounded anger was familiar to you. You welcomed it—relished in its security and reliability.

She's alive. You repeated in your head.

No thanks to you. The cruel voice taunted.

I still have a chance. You countered

And will you come through? Or will you fail her once more?

I will not fail her. I will never fail her again. You declared, and the cruel voice snickered.

We'll see.

"Tell me where she is," you demanded, staring daggers into Gin, wishing that you could kill with a look.  His grin grew, accepting your silent threat.

"I plan to," he pulled back and released you, wiping his bloodied finger on your uniform before he stuffed his hands into his large sleeves. "But you have to do something for me."

She's alive. She's alive. She's alive. You kept repeating his words in your head, beating it until it hardened like fine metal, honing it to a point—sharp and deadly. It was a seal stamped on your psyche. A crest embalmed on your flesh. A promise imprinted on your heart. She was alive, and you would bring her home.

You inhaled deeply, in and out, smelling the dry paint of the hall—something you've never noticed. You waited for your vision to clear, working to free yourself from the manacles that held you in despair. This was your opportunity, your chance to save her.

And you weren't going to give it up.

"Name it." You said without hesitation.

Gin clapped. Stone settled deep at the bottom of your stomach— this wasn't going to be easy, and you hoped that by the end of it, you'd be able to look at yourself in the mirror.

"Since you killed my employee," Gin said as he walked towards you. You held your ground and watched as he circled you. "I need you to collect information for me—information about the Hogyoku."

The Hogyoku. Lord Aizen's most prized possession. Why would Gin want information on it? What was he planning?

"The Hogyoku?" You repeated. Slowly, you wiggled your fingers and nothing but pain answered back. "Why do need information on the Hogyoku?"

"That is not your concern," Gin snapped, out of sight. "You only need to gather information on how it works. That's all. You do that, and I will tell you were your sister is."

That's all? Yeah, right. Everything inside of you screamed that it was a trap, but the small, hopeful, and guilty part begged you to listen—to take a chance. "And how am I supposed to get this information? " You asked, taunting him .

"I'm sure you can figure that out. You did manage to find my mole and eliminate him," he said, his voice so low it slid down your back, slick and smooth like a cobra, coiling and coiling, preparing to choke the life out of you.

"The human?" You asked; images of the blond man and purple-haired woman flashed in your mind like a film reel. "Is he my target?"

"Smart girl," Gin purred, and a chill coursed through you. If you did what Gin said, he'd tell you where your sister was. If you didn't, you be no further than you were now—lost and guilty. Steeling your resolve, you glanced behind you, only seeing the tip of Gin's chin.

"Gin," you said, feeling the heat of your cero ignite. "If you are lying to me, I will haunt you down and destroy you with my bare hands."

Gin laughed. "Of course you will. But my word is true." 

You could feel the heat at your back slowly fade away, and you knew he was retreating.

"Do we have a deal?" Gin asked, his voice a whisper.

"We have a deal," you turned and launched the cero forward, and it met nothing but white—crashing into a nearby wall, and you watched as it exploded. 

Gin was gone.

And you made a deal with the devil.

Chapter Text

It was a chore to summon the cleaning Hollows to take care of the debris in the hallway, but you did it without explaining what happened. No one needed to know about your encounter with Gin.  You haven't had time to process any of the events of last night or a few minutes ago, and the last thing you wanted to deal with was filling out an official report that would find its way to Aizen. A short Hollow with crimson eyes stood before you with a clipboard while a group of Hollows cleaned. "But, Lady Y/N," she begged, nerves rattled her limbs as she spoke, "we have to fill this out and—"

"Take care of it," you said, ignoring how she jumped at your harsh tone. It never escaped you how the other Hollows were afraid of you. Your name served you well in this world of monsters and dominance. You were feared and respected. However, you didn't feel as strong as your image after today and last night.

"Lady Y/n," the Hollow tried again, but you turned away from the nervous Hollow and fled the hall. You needed to get back to your room.

She's alive. 

Gin's words followed you as you rounded a corner. Your sister was alive, and Gin knew where she was. You still weren't sure how much Aizen was involved, but memories of his confused and guilt-ridden face flashed across your mind like a beacon—desperate and hopeful for rescue.  Your heart thudded. You didn't trust it. Gin and Aizen are great at manipulation, and you wouldn't allow them to have their way with you. So you decided to play Gin's game, and eventually, Aizen's true hand would show. 

And you wouldn't be surprised. 

Or hurt.

You exited the obnoxiously tall doors that lead to your wing in Las Noches. Quiet familiarity welcomed you, and you felt the corners of your lips pull up in a tiny smile. 

Finally . You were home. Fire danced in the wall candelabras, the lights not as bright as they were in the newer wings of Las Noches. Aizen wanted you to move from this section, but you refused. You liked that it was older. You appreciated the candlelight, the cracks in the wall, and the old paint. But what you loved most was that no one ever came to this wing except to light the candelabras and sweep the floors, but you never saw anyone—and you preferred it that way. As you rounded a corner, the last stretch to your bedroom, you almost crashed into Grimmjow.

"You know, there are better ways of getting my attention," Grimmjow said, leaning against the wall next to you. "I prefer the horizontal kind," he paused, then smiled. "And bare skin, too."

"Funny," you said sardonically. You tried to push past him but didn't get far because he had stepped into your path. "I'm not in the mood right now, Grimm."

"So, there's a chance for later?"

You ignored him and tried to walk past him again, but Grimmjow stuck out an arm, blocking your path. "What do you want?"

"I'm glad you asked," he said, placing a hand on your arm. "I need a favor."

You couldn't help how curiosity and the urge to flee clashed within you as you peered over Grimmjow's shoulder. You were a few feet from your room, and the door loomed in the distance. If you wanted to, you could avoid this entire conversation. But curiosity won. "Now?"

"Yes, now," he said, stepping closer until the familiar scent of cedar enveloped you. You liked his scent, which surprisingly made your nerves less erratic. You said nothing as you peered up, taking in his tall, intimidating frame silhouetted by the candlelight of the hall — making his scowl more prominent. 

"A favor," you repeated, breathing him in as your gaze traveled up and down the length of him. When you finally met his gaze, he wore a mischievous smile. 

"Yes, a favor." Grimmjow lowered his arm and slipped his hands in his pockets. "Come with me to the World of the Living. I think it is in need of a little… recon."

"Elaborate," you said. 

Grimmjow gave a full smile, revealing his sharp canines and a shiver coursed through you. "Ulquoirra did a half-assed job when he went to the World of the Living and left that human kid alive. There's a threat that needs to be handled."

"I still don't see the point in going with you," you drawled.

"Consider it making up for going against me during the Summons."

Oh. You had forgotten about the Summons--an event that seemed so long ago, yet it hasn't been more than twenty-four hours. The Summoning of Hollows and their subordinates to share information on the last mission to the World of the Living. The same mission where you saw the human kid, Ichigo Kurosaki, in action— the same mission where you met and killed Gin's subordinate. 

Today was a day of past guilts being revealed. 

And you were sick of it.

Agitation seeped into your bones, making you feel overstimulated. You weren't going to let Grimmjow guilt you into an outlandish mission. You had bigger monsters to appease. You hadn't realized that Grimmjow was still speaking, and when you finally focused on him, you noticed he watched you. Waiting.

"What?" You asked, not trying to hide that you weren't listening.

"What?" He repeated, clenching his jaw, a sign that he was stifling his irritation; he didn't like being ignored. "Weren't you listening?"

"No, I wasn't," you said. The shadows from the golden flames dance on the walls, making the hallway seem closer, more restricted than it actually was. You peered behind him again and wished you were on the other side of the door at the end of the hall.

"You're distracted. " Grimmjow said. It wasn't a question, so you stayed quiet. Then, "I saw you with Gin earlier."

The walls are thin, and there are eyes everywhere in Las Noches. A small voice chimed in the back of your mind. Of course, he saw you with him. 

"And you called me the stalker, " you said, avoiding answering his silent question. You weren't going to offer up any information. 

"But I'm better at it because I doubt you knew I was there, " Grimmjow said, his brow furrowed. "But he knew, " he admitted. "Why were you together because if I recall, yesterday we we're avoiding him, now you're meeting with him in empty hallways. " He ran a hand through his hair in annoyance—a small piece fell forward and rested on his forehead.

"That's none of your concern, " you said. You wouldn't tell him about the bargain you made with Gin. He wasn't part of it. You tried to move past Grimmjow, but he grabbed your shoulder. Typically, you would be able to shake him off, but the panic rising in you made your movement slow and stilted.

Something flashed in his eyes before a cocky grin spread across his face. Grimmjow removed his hands from his pockets and crossed them in front of his massive chest as he said, "Everything about you is my concern."He left his post and prowled towards you, like a cat on a hunt—and you were his prey. "How you're feeling. What you're doing. When you're sleeping. When you're eating." He stopped before you and peered down, a tower of muscle and intimidation—a presence that would scare anyone—except you. "Who you're talking to. Who you've killed," he continued. You stood your ground, refusing to waver beneath his stare, and Grimmjow leaned forward and placed a hand on the wall behind you. The movement caused you to shift, and your back met the cool stone wall. His warm breath brushed your neck; his soft hair tickled your skin, and you suppressed a shiver. "Even who you're fucking," he  turned his head, his lips a whisper from your ear. "Now tell me."

"What Gin wanted from me or who I'm fucking? " You asked sardonically.

Grimmjow laughed, and the sound reverberated through you like a drum. "There's so much I want to do with that smart ass mouth of yours. " He ran a hand through his hair, tousling the already messy waves again—a habit. "Just say the word, Y/N."

Your heart hammered in your chest, and you wondered if he could hear it. 

Grimmjow's fingertips brushed your neck. "You can pretend that you're unaffected by me, by I can hear it, you know, the way your breathing changes, the way your heart pounds. I can see how you look at me, so, so tempted to play with fire. I can smell it, too. That sweet, sweet scent of yours, " he gazed down, blue eyes heated. "Warm and waiting. All you need is a taste, right? And I'm willing to give you it. Just say the word."

He was right, but the last thing you needed was to drag him into your mess. So, you stayed silent.  Grimmjow sighed. "One day, Y/n, you're going to ask me, and I will be more than happy to obliged. Now tell me what did Gin want from you? " He paused, then added, "Unless he's the one you're fucking, and as your friend, I'm obligated to tell you that your taste is questionable. " He kept his heated gaze on you. "Unless it's me. Then your taste is magnificent. " He stepped closer until his leg brushed the outside of your thigh. "But, I already know who you're fucking, and you could do so much better. "

It was bait, and you weren't going to rise to it.

"A human, " you said, ignoring his jab at Aizen. "A human that has information I need. That's all you need to know."

You prepared to escape his embrace, but Grimmjow placed his other hand on the wall, caging you in.

"Good. Now answer this question: Am I right? " He asked, all teasing gone from his tone. His expression was now hooded, unreadable as he scanned your face. 

"About?"

"Doing better."

Silence stretched over you as you considered your answer. You took in his face, and your gaze traced the fine lines at the corner of his eye where blue paint decorated his skin. The way his brows furrowed gave him a seemingly permanent scowl. You trailed your gaze down, taking in the partial Hollow mask that covered his left cheek—a reminder of his life before Las Noches. "I'm doing what's necessary, " you said once your gaze met his again.

Grimmjow's didn't move. "Come with me, " he said. "You owe me that much at least."

" I don't owe you anything, " you snapped; your heart pounded so hard in your chest that you thought it would break your sternum. "Are we done?"

"Not even close, " Grimmjow said, his jaw working as he hung his head forward mere inches from yours. You could feel the anger radiating off of him. "And I call bullshit—doing what's necessary and me."

"Grimm, " you warned. You didn't want to fight with him.

"Y/n, " he snapped back. "You do everything under the sun for that bastard, but the moment I ask you for something, you blow it off. " Anger replaced the desire that simmered in his eyes. "You keep saying we're friends, " he spat. "Then friends help each other. " He flashed you a wicked grin. "Or does my friend need convincing? "  

Grimmjow's fingers brushed your neck again, but you couldn't suppress the shiver that coursed through you. His fingers trailed your neck and hooked under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. "Is my touch making you tremble? " He brushed a thumb over your bottom lip. "Is it fear? " He pressed closer to you, his scent so strong your defenses started to wane. "Or something else?"

This cannot happen.  

Anger gripped you like a leash, and you pushed Grimmjow back, forcing his hand to fall away. 

" Friends, " you taunted. "Are allowed to say no and tell each other when they are being dumbasses. Friends don't guilt each other into doing their bidding. I get enough of that with Sosuke."

"Sosuke? " Grimmjow repeated, Aizen's name rolling off his tongue like a tart from a lemon. "You call him Sosuke ."

He released you and took a step back, then another. "I guess that answers my question, " anger radiated off him like a furnace — permeating the air with palpable tension. "You are his whore."

The world fell away—silent, painful, and overwhelming. Your chest tightened so much you felt it would cave in, and your heart would spill onto the unsullied white beneath your feet. 

Whore. 

"I guess I am, " you said. When you walked past him this time, he didn't stop you. 

"It wasn't supposed to go like this, " Grimmjow called after you. "We just made up."

You were a few feet from your door, and all you wanted to do was hole up in your room and ignore everyone. "Haven't you heard, Grimmjow? A whore shouldn't be trusted. "  

You kept walking.

"Y/n, " he shouted. You reached your door.

“Y/n!” He yelled again. You turned the handle, and a familiar darkness welcomed you in. 

"I'll be in Malitz hall if you change your mind. I really do need your help, " he said, almost remorseful, and it almost made you turn around.

Almost. 

Whore. 

You entered your room and closed the door, leaving Grimmjow in the isolated hall. The clink of the lock sliding into place ranged throughout the room, and you leaned against the door.  The world crashed upon you as you slid to the ground. 

The tears came hot and fast, and only the moonlight from the large floor-to-ceiling window embraced them.

Chapter Text

You lay on the ground until your limbs ached.

Your tears had stopped a long time ago, and all that was left were dry and itchy eyes that stared into the darkness just beyond the ray of moonlight in your bed chamber. You knew you had to get up. You've been on the ground for what felt like days, but you couldn't muster enough strength to move. The familiar scent of flowers coated your nose, and you remembered the moonflowers you placed in a vase many nights ago — a souvenir from the World of the Living that you found fascinatingly beautiful.

It was a painful reminder of the bargain you made with Gin. Soon, you'd have to infiltrate the World of the Living to gather information for him—to do what with, you weren't sure. Yet, the promise of seeing your sister again was too strong to pass up. A flame blazed within you—curated by many nights of despair, stoked by your rage, and begging for release. But even with the urge to destroy, the guilt that festered in your heart held it at bay. The voice was right: you chose your captor over your sister, your entire reason for living, yet you wilted. 

Pathetic.

The tears came again—stinging and formidable. You shifted, moving your limbs away from the moon's gaze. You found solace in the dark and welcomed its embrace. It's where you belonged —hidden in the shadow of night, and you wished it would end you—you would welcome it. 

"You could just take me," you whispered in the empty room. You closed your eyes and waited, the tears hot on your cheek as you listened for a response that would never come.  You would live. Because death was a merciful ending—and you weren't deserving.  You had a job to do, a bargain to complete, and a score to settle. S lowly, you rose from the ground and wiped away the tears that lingered . There was a way to make this right. 

And he called you a whore.

Grimmjow's words swirled around your head like a boomerang—controlling your feelings as you shifted between anger and sadness and desired revenge but felt hopeless. And the worst part was that he wasn't wrong. 

Your arrangement with Aizen was a burden that weighed on your heart, sinking further into your soul, shredding your morals into tiny, finite pieces. When you see your sister again, what would she think? Would she judge you with malice like Grimmjow had? Everything with Aizen, accepting Gin's bargain, swallowing your pride, and finding Grimmjow—would she hate you, call you a whore, a trader, a murderer, and decide she couldn't forgive you, even after everything you've done to bring her back?

She could, and you wouldn't blame her because you were all those things, but none mattered as long as she was safe.  As your resolve grew, you glanced at the moonflowers again, taking in their iridescent white petals in full bloom. You wouldn't regret anything you did —even if she rejected you after bringing her home, you'd find solace in knowing she was alive, and that's all that mattered to you.

You climbed onto your knees, your limbs screaming in protest. Tonight, you are returning to the World of the Living. 

You planted your feet on the cool ground, finding purchase as you rose to your full height. You are going to find the human Kisuke Urahara — the creator of the Hogyoku.

You grabbed your zanpukto, its white hilt glowing just as bright as the moonflowers it rested near, and bolted from the room, ignoring the anxiousness in your chest. You ran down the long, isolated corridor, through the wide doors, and into the main building of Las Noches. And as you ran, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, even if you didn't see anyone around. 

You turned a corner and continued your trek, your feet beating steadily against the tiled floor. The swish of your braids was loud, your breath even, as you kept chanting the meet location in your head— Malitz . Malitz . Malitz .

You didn't care what Grimmjow wanted to accomplish in the World of the Living. You didn't care about Gin and his plans. You didn't care about Aizen or what he'd think if he found out—because this would surely be considered a betrayal. You only cared about getting to the World of the Living and finding the human Urahara Kisuke. 

You dashed past the damaged hall where you launched your cero after confronting Gin and startled a few of the Hollows cleaning the damage. You sighed in relief when they kept their heads down and avoided looking at you as you rounded another corner. You felt his spiritual pressure. It was faint, but it was still in Las Noches. He hadn't left yet. You pushed harder, moving as fast as you dared without causing a scene. Nothing happened here, and even though seeing an Espada run sporadically through the pristine halls of Las Noches wasn't much to impress the others if they saw who you were running towards, that'd be cause for suspicion.

And Hollows loved to gossip.

The walls are thin, and there are eyes everywhere in Las Noches. You slowed your pace, switching from a sprint to a walk, as you meandered through the halls, passing Hollows of all kinds, nearing the Malitz wing. 

Your sister's pendant hung heavily at your throat, a constant reminder of what you needed to do and atone for. You clutched it, the cool stone pressed into your palm like acid. With your free hand, you gripped the hilt of your Zanpakuto as if it were a reminder that you had it, and you would use it. You rounded another corner and found Grimmjow standing near a darkened alcove, his hands in his pocket and staring into the darkened entrance. He didn't turn when you neared him, but you knew he was aware of your presence. It was as if he expected you to show up.

"I—" you trailed off, not sure of what to say. "I thought you already left."

"Something told me to wait, and now I see why. " Grimmjow leaned against the wall and finally turned, his blue eyes severe. "Well? " He said after a long moment of silence.

"I'm going with you, " you said matter of factly.

"Why?"

The inquisition surprised you, but you answered truthfully. "I'm not interested in your mission or your purpose, but I have a score to settle, " you said vehemently. "And it would draw less attention if I left with you rather than leaving on my own. Multiple gates opening would cause alarm. "

" Does it have to be him? " He asked, barely above a whisper. Your heart thudded in your chest at his tone so unlike him. You stared at him, considering your answer. 

" Yes, it does, " you said, clutching the pendant at your throat. "Satisfied?"

"No, " Grimmjow said bluntly. "And that's a shitty thing to ask. " A shuffling of feet near you and Grimmjow appeared at your side. He raised his hand and conjured a gate to the World of the Living—the familiar cold of the static blackness beckoned you forward.

"But you're not going to give me more—information or time. " He stepped through the portal, and the space shifted; a solid blue light appeared at the bottom of his feet. "So do what you want, Y/N."

He didn't wait for you as he continued forward into the darkness. You glanced behind into the long hallway, steeling your resolve as you tightened your grip on the pendant.  There was no point in getting upset. All of this was necessary. A shadow wavered behind a corner in the hall, and a coldness washed over you. The shadow was a presence, but it was hiding its spiritual energy, so you couldn't tell who it was, but you knew it was Gin.  He came to watch. He wanted to make sure you kept your side of the bargain, and it was all you needed to push you through the gates. 

The void of darkness welcomed you with an icy embrace, and you stepped onto the blue trail Grimmjow laid before you. 

You were on a mission to find the human Urahara Kisuke. And once you found him, you would find your sister. It was the only thing that mattered.

Chapter Text

If there was one thing you've learned about the World of the Living, it always changed. Unlike Hueco Mundo, where the sky was always night, the moon high, its vast desolate sands, and Hollows lurked in the quiet corners, the World of the Living was much louder and more crowded. And so, so bright.

Every time you visited, the sounds and people shocked your system. You found the humans interesting but odd. A warm breeze tousled the braids hanging down your back as you stood suspended in the night sky dotted with starlight and basked in the moist air. It was going to rain soon. 

Grimmjow stood a few feet from you, body tight as a bowstring set to release, and stared out at the horizon. Ebony waves moved lazily across the expanse of white sand; stars from the night sky punctuated the waters, making it look like a wave of starlight. He hadn't spoken to you since you entered the void, and you ignored the pang in your chest. 

A piercing screech erupted from the metal boxes on wheels as they glided throughout the city. Humans moved from one place to another, in and out of buildings lit up with pale white light resembling the wave of starlight from the sea. The World of the Living was always moving, unaware of the Espada's that stood above them,  even ignoring the Espada's who invaded their world and caused massive damage only a day ago.  

Ignorance was bliss. "It must be nice," you sighed. "Mortality. Humans, with their limited life spans. Always moving, always changing, dealing with whatever life throws at them, never fully understanding the vastness of their world or the worlds outside of their realm." 

Grimmjow stayed silent, but you continued. "Would you chose to be human if given the chance?"

No answer. 

"I—" 

Another gate opened in the distance, cutting you off, and you felt an unfamiliar presence emerge. Hollows. Five of them appeared in the World of the Living.  "Were you expecting company?" You asked Grimmjow, but he still didn't answer you. 

Fine then. 

Using his sonido, Grimmjow stepped toward the gate and disappeared, leaving you alone. "Childish," you said, puffing out a long breath. You could follow him and see who he managed to corral into this mission, but you didn't really care. You were here for one reason: to find Urahara Kisuke.

Opening your pesquisa, you inhaled and felt the way your nerves moved in your body. They expanded outside of themselves, allowing you to feel the presence around you—searching for strong spiritual energy. Urahara Kisuke was the creator of the Hyogoku, the powerful mass of energy capable of the unfathomable ; he'd surely have strong reiatsu.

But he probably masked it, and standing here, suspended in the warm night sky, was probably useless. You've only seen the human once, and from his brief confrontation with Yammy, you could tell he'd be a pest. 

"What did I get myself into?" You said, opening your eyes and glancing at the world below. Maybe you'd come across him if you retraced your steps from the last time you were in the World of the Living. Or…

You slowly descended the sky and landed on a tall building. The sound of life was loud in your ears as you stepped towards the edge and peered below as you carefully considered what to do next. If you searched for the human with your pesquisa, there was a high chance you wouldn't find him. A strong human like him wouldn't be so easily detected… 

Wait. 

Shit.

He was not a human. The thought slammed into you. A man Aizen was wary of,  a man Gin sought out because of Aizen's wariness, was more than human. Unlike the Kurosaki kid, whose humanity you could sniff a mile away —even with the powers of a Soul Reaper and some other, darker entity that rivaled your own residing within him, you could still feel his temporality.  

No.

Urahara Kisuke had no such humanness within him. He felt older. He felt like strength incarnate, a power that he tried to conceal but even for the brief moment you glimpsed him, you felt his strength. He wasn't a human. He was a Soul Reaper—and a formidable one.

 And you couldn't believe the realization just dawned on you. He had to have years —no, centuries of knowledge and experience. And that possible fact made you feel dejected. What in the hell did you agree to do? 

You watched the humans below: a man walked a four-legged animal that wagged its tail enthusiastically. A woman dressed in a long red coat pushed a small bin on wheels that held a tiny human. Another one stood in the street, dressed in neon armor and held a red sign, pointing in a direction, and you watched as the rolling tins followed. Mundane, everyday things happened below as you pondered your next move. You were an excellent tracker, often finding enemies for Lord Aizen that evaded him for years. Urahara Kisuke was no different. Yes, he was power, but so were you—keen and gilded to a sharp point, always aimed and ready to take flight to catch your prey. And you never missed your mark. You'd find the Soul Reaper.

A thunderous sound sliced through the sky, bringing with it a massive amount of spiritual energy. It rose in the distance behind you, pulling your attention from the lives below. It wasn't familiar, but you were intrigued. Who could possess such strength that you felt it meters away? Another wave of reiatsu appeared in the distance, this time to your left. Then, another one to your right. One by one, massive explosions of spiritual pressure rose and flickered against the midnight sky like beacons, drawing anyone who dared near. It made you anxious… and excited. Closing your eyes, you let the mayhem blanket you— it throbbed, the tension tightened your skin like a rope constricting your limbs. You felt your heart pounding, and blood thrummed in your veins; it pumped erratically, urging you to move. Your breath was clipped, your senses heightened. Everything about what happened in the distance spurred your predatory inclination, sensing the events that took place with each explosion.  You felt them. Saw them wink into your consciousness like firelight. Your sense reverberated , each clash of power echoed into your skin, a counter-beat to your own heart. 

They were the same Hollows who'd appeared earlier. The band of minions Grimmjow summoned. And even though you didn't meet them, you recognized their energy. 

Another clash sounded off, and the energy rattled through you, causing the hair on your skin to stand at attention. Did they find who they were looking for? You opened your pesquisa again, but it wasn't necessary. The spiritual energy you felt was so potent and palpable that you could feel it in the depths of your cells, but none belonged to Urahara or Grimmjow. Regardless, it caught your attention, and an idea occurred to you.

You could cause a scene, one so massive it couldn't be ignored, and lure the Soul Reaper out. Memories of the blond man in the large field holding off Yammy as the Kurosaki boy kneeled behind him. Urahara protected the kid, and you latched onto the memory that flashed in your mind. If you found Ichigo Kurosaki and engaged him in combat, it may be the flint to the flame, drawing the moth to you.

It would be enough to bring Urahara Kisuke out.

You opened your eyes and smiled.

Warm winds howled in your ears as you sliced through the night sky, glimpsing the town below dotted in hues of pale yellows and reds and grey. Your body vibrated as you raced forward with a half-mapped-out plan of what you would do. You had to draw out the Soul Reaper; it was the only thing that made sense. But waging a battle on the kid that seemed to be sought after by powerful and vengeful men was a gamble. You weren't sure if the Soul Reaper would save him. If Urahara Kisuke was similar to Aizen, then there was always the chance that his saving Kurosaki and his friends was a one-off, a coincidence—and it wouldn't happen again. 

You didn't want to kill Ichigo Kurosaki. He was worth more alive than dead. But if he were poised to kill you, you'd have no other choice. Dread sluiced through you and curled deep in your core as you ran faster. If you killed the human kid, Aizen would be at your door, and that was another set of complications you didn't want to deal with.

Thunderous explosion encircled you: high, potent spiritual pressure racketed the sky, unleashed Hollow forms, and zanpakuto's battled for dominance, and your instincts screamed — begged to be part of it because deep down, you were a Hollow who lived by her instincts. Find the human; find the Soul Reaper. Keep them alive. You repeated the words over and over, turning it into a mantra. And fuck Gin ; you added--a period to your never-ending anxiety.

A loud horn blared in the distance; simultaneously, a blast of ice bitterly slashed through the night air, stealing the warmth and replacing it with a biting cold. You halted your sprint; gooseflesh peppered your skin as sweat from the once-warm air beaded your brow. You could smell the frost — a crisped, earthy scent that compelled you to move toward it. 

And you did; curiosity  guided your feet. You didn't recognize the wielder's reiatsu, so you assumed it was a Soul Reaper and not one of the Hollows who assisted Grimmjow. This Soul Reaper was strong, and you wondered if the power belonged to the Soul Reaper you searched for. 

You neared the ice, stopping a few feet from it as its biting cold caused your teeth to clatter. The ice was a delicate specter, arched in the air like an elegantly curved archer's bow shimmering in the night. Vapor radiated from it, remnants of the welder's power—a warning, a threat. You clutched the hilt of your Zanpakuto. 

A clash of metal sparked, drawing your attention behind the ice. You immediately identified the Hollow: his mask sat atop his head like a hat, the bib extending a few inches to the right. He was a tall, reedy man who stood with his back straight, and an undeniable haughtiness radiated from him. He wore the standard Arrancar uniform—indicating that he was more than a grunt, as he gripped his Zanpakuto in and pushed against the Soul Reaper that crowded him. Ice blasted from one of the swords, sending another burst of fridged air into the night. 

"Pathetic," the Arrancar said, unimpressed. The two broke apart, and you took in his opponent. He was of a smaller build, with white frosted hair that matched the ice he blasted. He wore a black Shihakusho and a white robe with the inscription of ten on the back—marking his status in the Soul Reaper rank. If your memory was correct, those who wore a white robe with a number on the back were of the Captain rank and were the strongest. 

The white-haired Captain, adorned with wings crafted of ice, vaulted another chilled blast towards the Hollow. Plumes of white covered them both, making it hard to see as you stood and watched the scene. The white-haired Captain emerged first, standing a few feet from the blast. He narrowed his eyes, which were of the lightest blue, just like the iridescent hues in the ice he wielded. You noticed a slice of flesh above his brow and a shimmer of red that stained his ivory skin trailing beneath his jaw as he watched the clouds dissipate, waiting to see if the Hollow was no longer standing.

He still hasn't noticed you.

A laugh echoed in the chilled night air, and the Soul Reaper stiffened—eyes widening slightly, his stance rigid as he turned to face the emerging Hollow. 

"Again, pathetic," the Hollow sneered. He held his zanpakuto above his head, poised to attack, but his arm was coated in thick ice. "Was that the best you could do?" With a flick of his finger, the ice shattered, and the Hollow brought the blade down, pointing it at the Soul Reaper. "I thought that since you are a Captain," his lip curled at the word, "you'd give me more of a fight. But all you've done so far was throw ice at me."

"I'm only warming up," the Soul Reaper said.

The Hollow tsked and gripped the hilt of his Zanpakuto, raising it before him. "I see. Well, since you're just warming up, it wouldn't be fair to destroy you so early . You are a Captain, and I will give you the honor of fighting me at my full strength." Yellow rays radiated off the Hollow, his reiatsu becoming stronger as a wicked smile crested his apathetic face. You glanced at the Captain, taking him in — his breath shallow, the deep gash above his brow, the petals that hung above his head slowly disintegrated, leaving three crystalized shells like a countdown. You weren't sure if this Soul Reaper would make it out alive. He was already at his limit. 

The Hollow reiatsu grew as he yelled, "Awaken snip, Tijereta!" A blast of yellow eroded the ice, bathing the midnight sky in a bright light. Clumps of bone covered the Hollow, extending into tails of lethal agility that sprawled in five sharp-taloned limbs. His bone covered his arms and chest, extending up his neck to connect to the partial Hollow mask that adorned his head. From the back, you saw a tail, lengthening to a sharp point as deadly as the spindles that rested on his hands.  

The Hollow sighed, and quick as lightning, he attacked the Captain, lashing five cuts along his body— blood splattered in the night air. You doubted the Soul Reaper saw it coming as he fell from the sky and crashed into the ground, his ice crumbling . 

"My name," the Hollow said, standing with predatory grace above the falling Soul Reaper. "Is Shawlong Koufang, and I'm Arrancar number eleven. You Soul Reapers are a pathetic bunch," Shawlong sighed. "To think, Lord Aizen found even one of you threatening. If you are easily defeated by me, a regular Hollow, you'd have no hope in defeating our brethren." He flicked a long, spindly finger, cleaning the blood from his talon. "Our Espada will decimate all of you, and unfortunately for you, two of them came with us tonight. Our guileful number six, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez." Shawlong glanced up, his deep brown eyes locked with yours, and he smiled. " And Lord Aizen's assassin in the flesh, number three, Lady Y/n L/n." He placed an arm over his heart and bowed in your direction.

You inclined your head in acknowledgment, then glanced below, no longer seeing the Soul Reaper. Find the human; find  the Soul Reaper. Keep them alive. Words wended into your thoughts, reminding you of why you came here. It wasn't to watch this battle, no. You had to find the Kurosaki kid—

As if sensing your purpose, you felt him. Grimmjow's massive spiritual energy rattled through you, starting from your spine , it forced you to stand straighter, to clutch your fist and grip the hilt of your blade tighter. His reiatsu called to you; it  pulled you like a puppet string. Grimmjow's feral and untamed energy danced in your veins, igniting you like a beacon of wrath.

And you were, especially with him. But that wasn't the only energy you felt. Ichigo was with him. His energy was ruinous and conflicted—no doubt a fight for dominance between his human self and the dark energy that resided in him. You felt their powers clash, and you felt the Earth rumble from the sheer force of two powerful , headstrong people coming to blows. 

The Earth quaked in their duel, and you took off towards them.

Chapter Text

Time slowed.

Achingly slow as you neared the clash of cataclysmic energy, you unsheathed your Zanpakuto and held the blade aloft in one hand. The moonlight glinted off the silver as you raced towards your target. 

Plumes of grey cascaded the air, and buildings shattered amongst impact as you descended the sky. Feet crunched black gravel, and you rounded a corner. At the same time, a whisk of onyx glinted in the moonlight and sliced the air, missing its mark as it landed on the ground, shards of concrete spraying the air. You heard his laugh before you saw him. 

"Not too bad, kid," Grimmjow said; the clouds of grey dissipated, showing him standing in the middle of the street behind the Kurosaki kid, with hands in his pocket and a mocking grin. Ichigo turned, fast as lightning, and dove at Grimmjow, sword raised, ready to strike. 

But Grimmjow, removing one hand from his pocket, caught the blow with his bare hand. A wild feline grin, showing all of his sharp canine teeth, spread across his face as the kid scowled. Grimmjow yanked the blade, pulled Ichigo along with it, and kicked out his leg. The blade landed in the center of Ichigo's gut and sent him sprawling down the street, crashing into a home. 

You felt the anger radiate from him, so palatable that you could taste the ire in the wind as you watched Grimmjow run a hand through his azure hair and dash toward Ichigo. 

Ichigo clambered to his feet just in time to block a lethal kick from Grimmjow. He pivoted, turning his blade upward and swinging it from below in an attempt to slice off Grimmjow's arm. Grimmjow countered with a full, windmill kick, sending Ichigo flying once more . 

Grimmjow threw his head back and released a loud, guttural growl in the night sky. A wide, animalistic smile adorned his face, and his blue eyes were alight with excitement . You stood watch and contemplated what to do. This wasn't the first time you'd seen Grimmjow in action. You knew that he was a formidable warrior—wild yet graceful, brute power yet calculated. A chill coursed through you as you watched him disappear and reappear in the sky just as Ichigo jumped. 

Grimmjow's fist was already meeting Ichigo's jaw, and the sound of bone snapping cracked through the air; as you dashed forward, panic chilled your core. Find the human; find the Soul Reaper. Keep them alive. Find the human; find the Soul Reaper. Keep them alive.

The mantra repeated over and over. Your Zanpakuto felt heavy in your hand as you neared the men. You didn't want Grimmjow involved, but you knew there was a high chance he'd beat you to Ichigo—it was the entire reason he came to the World of the Living. And now that he found him…

You glanced above and watched Ichigo plummet to Earth with Grimmjow trailing behind him, focus set — intent honed to kill. They crashed into the ground, and streetlights snapped in two at the impact of their massive bodies. A crater appeared beneath Ichigo. He stood unsteadily and watched as Grimmjow stalked towards him — a cat encircled its prey. You felt the fluctuation of his spiritual energy; high one moment, low the next, and Ichigo stood frozen, helpless. Grimmjow stood before him, reared his fist, and punched him over and over. 

Over and over and over.

Over and over and over.

The scent of blood coated the air in its sweetly metallic scent. You watched Ichigo's skin split open and tear on his face —near his eye, his mouth. You watched his head snap back, taking every powerful blow from Grimmjow's dangerous fists. You heard bone break and break, and you winced. You saw the skin split at Grimmjow's knuckle, red-coated his flesh as he laughed madly, sending blow after blow. 

He'd kill him. 

He'd kill him, and you wouldn't get what you needed. 

Grimmjow finished his onslaught with another kick that sent Ichigo flying once again. 

He'd kill him, and what would happen with your bargain with Gin? What will happen to your sister? You needed him alive. If he is alive, he will take you to Urahara Kisuke. 

"Getsuga Tenshou!" A blast of black and red, unadulterated power hurled at Grimmjow, and he took the hit. You watched as Ichigo panted heavily, watching the plume of black-coated Grimmjow, waiting to see if his attack did any damage. 

"Damn, what was that?" Grimmjow asked excitedly. "Ulquiorra didn't mention that in his report. You've been holding out on me, Soul Reaper?" The black mass cleared, revealing Grimmjow, who stood barely scathed. A long, red scar decorated his sculpted torso as he threw his head back and howled. 

"So maybe I won't be disappointing after all, Hollow," Ichigo panted. His Zanpakuto hung limply in his hand.

Grimmjow brought a hand to his chin, wiping the small scrape of blood that rested there. "Don't get so full of yourself, punk." He gripped the hilt of his Zanpakuto, unsheathing it from the scabbard. "You only have a good three to four more of those attacks left, so I'm going to do the honors and end you before you meet a sad pitiless demise." Grimmjow dashed forward, blade raised and poised to strike.

He'd kill him—

Metal clashed metal. 

And you stood before Grimmjow, gripping your Zanpakuto in one hand and the back of your blade with the other—stopping his blow. 

Grimmjow's eyes widened, then narrowed. Brows furrowed, and jaw tight, he asked, "What are you doing, Y/n?"

That was a good question. What were you doing? You didn't know. You didn't even remember moving. You saw the end of Ichigo's life flash before you, you saw his blood stain the ground, and you saw the triumph in Grimmjow's eyes as he removed his blade from the human chest. You saw all of it and… acted. 

You stood between Grimmjow and kill, your sword aimed at him, your sight set on his life. You couldn't let Ichigo die. Not until you fulfilled your bargain with Gin, not with your sister's life on the line. "Stand down, Grimmjow." You ordered.

"The hell I will," he shouted. "Why the hell are you even here?" 

You didn't answer him. 

You broke apart, but only briefly before your blades clashed against each other once more , sending a shock through your system. Grimmjow was undoubtedly strong. You gritted your teeth as your blades crossed again and again. 

"Get out of my damned way, Y/n."  He barked, pulling his blade back and swinging his leg. You dodged the attack and shoved your fist forward, connecting to his jaw and sending his head backward.

"Enough," you shouted, cocking your arm back for another blow. Grimmjow ducked and swung his blade down, aiming for your arm. You blocked the blow. Glancing back, you noted the Soul Reaper hadn't moved from the crater. Instead, he watched you with an expression of wary shock. 

You ducked behind Grimmjow just as he ignited his cero and shot it in Ichigo's direction. "Get down," you yelled at Ichigo, and surprisingly, he listened — managing enough to avoid the lethal blow. 

"I know you have your own plans, but getting in the way of my hunt is the dumbest shit you've ever done," Grimmjow said. A hand snaked behind you, and he grabbed you by your neck, pulling you into him—you felt the expanse of him against your back. You ignited your cero, palm facing behind you, and shot the mass of energy. Grimmjow twisted out of the blow's path, taking you with him as it crashed into a building, shattering the wall of concrete . "Now give me a reason why I shouldn't snap your damned neck," Grimmjow hissed in your ear. 

Your mind was empty. You didn't want to kill him . You couldn't. You just… You just...

You didn't know what you were supposed to do. 

You turned your head, but Grimmjow's grip tightened, restricting your airway. You had to think. You had to think of something to get you out of this. 

"I…" you wheezed, vision darkening from the lack of oxygen; you gripped your sword tightly. "I have my reasons, Grimmjow." And you slammed the hilt of your sword into his stomach, causing him to reel backward and release your neck. Air returned to your lungs, and you gulped it down greedily. 

Grimmjow bent forward and clutched his abdomen. "Bullshit," he wheezed. "You and I could've killed each other at any moment before, why are you here?"

"I…" you wanted to tell him, but you couldn't. You glanced at Ichigo, who kneeled a few feet behind you, black coated the white of his eyes, and you could feel that eerie, repugnant aura that surrounded him. He couldn't move. You had to keep Grimmjow distracted.  "I have my reasons," you repeated, jaw tight.

"Damn your reasons," Grimmjow spat, the anger radiated off him like a wave, and it blazed in his eyes as he scanned you from head to toe. "I promise you, y/n, if you don't back down right now, I will kill you were you stand." 

You felt the sharpness of his words slice your already ruined heart. But you squared your shoulders and looked him deep in his azure eyes. "Then it's a fight to the death."

"Getsuga Tenshou!" A blast of black shot towards you. Grimmjow dove forward and shoved you away from the attack. You landed behind a building, a safe distance from the Soul Reapers' blow, and watched as the cloud of black crashed into Grimmjow —consuming him entirely.

Grimmjow howled as he shot out the plume of black and toward Ichigo—

A black portal opened in the sky above, and standing in the void was Tosen, one of Aizen's henchmen.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

This can't happen. 

Tosen stepped from the void and grabbed Grimmjow's wrist, halting his attack. Shock and anger clouded Grimmjow's face as he faced his superior. "Tosen."

"Grimmjow," Tosen spat his name like he stepped on a bug. "Would you like to explain why you are in the World of the Living? Or perhaps, you'd like to explain why you assembled five Arrancars with you and lost them in battle?" Tosen's head cocked in your general direction, scanning.

Your blood ran cold; he didn't see you , but he knew you were here. You sheathed your sword, preparing to step out into the open. Grimmjow snatched his arm from Tosen. "I don't owe you shit. " He said, pushing past Tosen and entering the void. Tosen still stood, watching the ground below. You neared the corner of the building.

Tosen turned and entered the void with Grimmjow. "Let's see how Lord Aizen will punish you."

You paused. He didn't mention you. Grimmjow didn't mention you. As they stood in the void, you realized they were about to leave without you. 

"Is that it? " Ichigo shouted up at them. "You invade our world, engage us in combat, only to run back to your shithole?"

"Shut the hell up, " Grimmjow bit back; his blue eyes held nothing but malice as he glared at the human. "Time is up. I don't have time for you anymore. " Grimmjow glanced in your direction. "You only had another two or three more of those shots left in you , you wouldn't stand a chance against me in my released form. You're a waste of my time."

"Don't —"

"Again, shut the hell up. The next time we meet, human, I guarantee I will end your life. " Grimmjow held your stare. "I guarantee I will have the last laugh."

The black void closed, and Grimmjow and Tosen disappeared. The sky returned to its midnight blue, and the stars winked above.

Shocked rooted you in place. They left you. Grimmjow didn't mention your involvement. Tosen didn't beckon you, even though you were sure he knew you were here. 

They left. 

They left .

And you—

A sharp pain blasted behind your eyes, and you felt yourself fall to the ground, smacking against the concrete as darkness invaded your vision. 

"Well, this is an interesting turn of events," a taunting voice said. You could hear the click-clack of wood against concrete, and with the sliver of sight you had left, you saw a pair of feet clad in wooden sandals appear before you. 

"It looks like we have a guest. " The voice said, and you felt someone heave you up from the ground. "Put her in the cell below the shop. I have a lot of questions to ask her."

Then everything went black. 

The bright light of Las Noches greeted Grimmjow and Tosen as they made their way to the grand room where the Summoning and other gatherings were held. The massive room was empty, aside from the two Hollow guards who opened the enormous doors and Lord Aizen, who sat atop a cascade of stairs. The two men stood before Lord Aizen, who lazed unhurriedly in the large stone chair; his arms rested atop the armrest, and his hand held his chin. He watched with calculating eyes, scanning Tosen and Grimmjow as they stood and awaited his greeting.

"Welcome back, Grimmjow. "  

The sultry, low voice echoed throughout the grand room, causing Grimmjow to stand rigidly as he stared at Aizen. Neither man dared to move, the air thick with tension. 

Tosen stood casually, hands hanging a dangerous distance from his Zanpakuto—waiting to use it against Grimmjow if he suspected insubordination. But Grimmjow ignored him, keeping his attention on Aizen. Grimmjow was still angry — at the man in the chair who had a claim on Y/n that he couldn't understand; he was angry at Y/n, and how she stood in between him and his kill, the ire in her eyes, her sword pointed at him—her strength. He was angry with Tosen for appearing in the World of the Living and retrieving him. He was angry with himself for leaving her.

As if reading every thought that crossed his mind, Aizen's gaze shifted from indifference to ice, forcing Grimmjow to bow slightly, but he still held Lord Aizen's gaze. "My Lord, " he said stiffly.

Tosen bristled at the tone; Aizen chuckled. "Now tell me,Grimmjow, why is it that you went to the World of the Living? " Aizen leaned forward, steepling his fingers in front of his mouth, one elegant brow arched, his gaze piercing as he watched Grimmjow. "And tell me why Y/N is still there?"

Chapter Text

Aizen sat alone in his bed chambers, staring out into the vast horizon of sand in Hueco Mundo. Moonlight alighted him, pooling around his chair in a crown of white. Darkness stretched in every direction and reached every corner of his room, but the pool of white he sat in. Cold swept the vast, semi-barren chambers, rattling the wood beams on the ceiling. The bed was askew; he hadn’t laid in it since she was last here. Her scent lingered on the linen and the pillows— her memory tormented him through sheer stubbornness. 

She left. 

The realization rattled around in his mind, over and over, like a cyclone; it stirred up his dormant feelings and churned his stomach. She left. 

Aizen gripped the armrest, his fingers shattering bits of stone. He didn’t know how long he sat in his chambers; he didn’t know how long images of her flashed in his mind—taunted him, goaded him, laughed at him.

 He hadn’t slept. He hadn’t eaten. Nothing but pure, unadulterated anger curled low in his belly. 

She left.

His last memory of her was filled with her pain. Every time he closed his eyes, he only saw the anger and sadness on her face, the tears that ran down her cheeks as she screamed at him and attacked him in their bed. She blamed him for taking her sister. 

A sister he didn’t know existed. His chest ached. 

She left.

“I know you’re there, Gin.” Aizen said, not turning from the desolate landscape. “State your business.”

“My, my Lord Aizen, nothing gets past you.”

Aizen stayed quiet. Gin continued. “Sir, I know that you’re upset at Lady Y/n’s betrayal—”

“I’m not upset.”

Gin paused momentarily. “Right, well, I think I have a bit of news that may be of interest to you.” Aizen didn’t move from his seat. In fact, it was almost as if he didn’t hear Gin. Gin stood awkwardly in the shadow, observing. 

She left. He could hear her voice.

“Lord Aizen, did you hear me?” Gin asked.

She left . Aizen could still smell her sweet, addictive scent. 

The only answer was the crunch of sand moving below from a light breeze. Both men stood silently in the room. 

“Gin,” Aizen finally said, lowering his hand. “I need you to gather information on Y/n’s sister.” Gin stood rigidly, watching Lord Aizen. “If she’s alive, find her and bring her to me.”

“Why, sir?” Gin asked

She left. She left. She left. 

Aizen’s brown eyes slid to Gin in the shadows. “Because I’m going to bring Y/n home.”

End of Part One.

I will begin posting Part Two in the fall.

Thank you so much for reading <3