#cfyow fic

[diorsbrando]

I’D DIE FOR YOU (AND I HAVE). ( s.a. )

sousuke aizen & black!fem!reader.

cw ━━ ! minors, blank and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT. reader is portrayed as a black woman but you do not have to imagine her that way. using this map of the seireitei as a reference (i searched high and low for a consistent accurate one but it was hard). the first half is set pre-ryoka invasion / pre-soul society arc. the second half is aizen-centric (from his pov told from the 3rd person) and set post-tybw arc, years after he was sealed away in mugen, also including mention of events from vol. 1 of can't fear your own world (a light novel that's post-tybw & can be considered canonical); so all this being said: SPOILERS i guess???? of course you're welcome to read if you don't care about spoilers! somewhat based on 'die for you' by the weeknd & even more loosely based on 'dark red' by steve lacy. contains themes of heavy-ish angst, existential crises (?) & inner emotional turmoil within reader + aizen (separately). descriptions of character death, blood and violence. descriptions of manipulation/mind games. aizen is an unkind man. proofread (i did my best).

word count ━━ 11k

notes ━━ ! the way this fic was supposed to finished a month ago...but life once more gets in my way. and the way that it's this long....i anticipated the max being 10k but i greatly underestimated how long it would take to flesh out my idea. anywho i'm somewhat reentering my bleach era again. i’m not sure what it is but character analyses in the form of fanfiction is my jam rn like i really enjoyed writing this (i got tired of the length by like... 7k words lmao) but i like how this turned out. i've watched & read quite a bit of content that provide explanations as to why aizen is the way he is so i wanted to try my own portrayal of that in the context of canonical events. how i characterized him here is partially inspired by a fic i read about him last year so shout out to them for their support :D i hope i've depicted and humanized aizen well ♡. reblogs + commentary are heavily appreciated!!!!!

THE PAD OF YOUR THUMB SLOWLY glided against your bottom lip, the lingering aftertaste of jasmine tea still on its surface and on your breath. The absentminded motion of your thumb caressing your mouth, as if in deep contemplation, continued as you stared at the clock hanging on the wall above you.

It was past eleven, and the midnight hour only continued to draw near as time sustained its temporal march. And there you sat at your desk, floating in the limbo of your mind that was filled with hesitancy and admittedly, budding anticipation.

Your gaze lowered to the now empty porcelain cup, nothing remaining of its contents except the shriveled remnants of herbs and a few wayward drops of the brew.

Your senior comrade, captain Sōsuke Aizen, was correct in his prediction that you'd take a liking to its floral and delicate taste when he gifted you a jar full of the jasmine tea leaves as well as other ingredients.

The captain of Squad 5 seemed to be correct about a lot of things.

His intelligence and foresight, along with his kind and politely witty disposition, were qualities that you found somewhat charming, and gradually drew you closer to him.

Being the current third seat of the 9th company, your barracks and those of squad 5's were relatively close to each other's, so often you'd catch glimpses of and run into Captain Aizen on a pretty normal basis. Over the years, the conversations that bounced between the two of you expanded past the realm of formalities between a higher and lower ranking officer, and instead ranged in territories from literature, to art, to food & drink, and even to the politics of the government for which they were soldiers for.

Sometimes, you found it hard to believe that you managed to befriend a man like him. A man who seems to have mastered the balance between being a gentle soul, helpful to others, but also possessed enough refined power and skills to be named a captain within the Gotei 13.

Especially a man who wasn’t even of your own squad.

Despite the increasingly friendly relations and generally pleasant conversation, there were few moments where Aizen's words didn't feel quite. . . . real━ he didn't feel real. He spoke eloquently, often relying on figurative language to further illustrate his point and to breathe meaning into seemingly plain and meaningless words. But at times those words, his tone felt stained; stained with some substance or color you couldn't quite place. An enigmatic façade was painted over his speech, and it took too much mental capacity to try and find your own meaning in it.

So you'd often brush it off. Your over-reliance on your own reasoning that 'you weren’t able to come to a conclusion because there is no problem a conclusion could be generated from' successfully quieted your mind’s voice. You'd also frequently blame exhaustion, or your newfound hobby of watching human psychological crime shows during your off days for these subconscious ideas you had.

But you feared that the request Aizen made of you yesterday, the source of your current predicament, couldn't be blamed on any of those things. You looked at the clock again before returning to stare at your empty tea cup. For what reason could Sōsuke Aizen wish to meet you outside of the 1st division barracks? Specifically at this hour? You immediately thought of his question as uncharacteristic of him but prevented yourself from jumping to any further conclusions.

Aizen was a reasonable man, and you were sure there was a reasonable explanation.

With a final sigh of acquiescence, you stood up from your sitting position to retie your yukata before slipping a thicker, dark colored haori on top. You were unsure how cold it was this late at night or how long you'd be out, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

You paused for a moment, glancing longingly at your vanity mirror a few times, clearly torn between a decision, before giving in with a soft groan. Grabbing your favorite perfume, you quickly spritzed the spray onto both your inner wrists, either sides of your neck, and stray areas on your clothes. You’d proceed to make sure your hair was in order and your lips were as moisturized and glossy as a pair of tear-filled eyes before making your way to the door and slipping on your sandals.

Meeting with a captain— with Aizen of all people— in the dead of night resembled too closely to forbidden lovers rendezvousing under a fruit tree to fulfill their desires of embracing one another, with no one but the moon as their witness. The comparison alone caused the apples of your cheeks to burst aflame with embarrassment, and you lightly chastised yourself for even indulging in such an inappropriate train of thought. Such a scenario seemed far too deluded to even be considered ‘wishful thinking’.

But those delusions still seemed to make more sense than whatever other conclusion you have yet to reach.

Making your way out of your personal quarters, you activated your shunpo technique, stealthily hopping from one rooftop to the other in an effort to make it to Squad 1 barracks quicker.

After several minutes, your mind mostly engulfed with the 'what if's', the soles of your sandals finally touched ground, and you stood a few feet away from the massive walls and bridges that connected to and from the barracks. Even at night you were able to make out the bold-printed kanji for the number 1 that was painted on the building.

When you arrived, even from a nearby rooftop, you didn't see anyone around. Feelings of confusion and worry began to creep up and flicker to life in your mind.

But, as if your thoughts were as audible, you felt a light breeze of wind behind you, a familiar sound that indicated someone had made their presence known.

Startled, you reflexively reached for your zanpakuto, when you remembered that you hadn't even brought it with you. It still laid against the wall near your bed, just where you placed it earlier when you were relieved of your duties for the day.

You didn't think you needed it necessarily if you were just going to meet with Aizen, hence why taking it with you slipped your mind.

The flickers of concern were swiftly extinguished as your brain caught up with your body upon realizing who just appeared. A relieved sigh left your lips, a breath of air that seemed to release all the tension that had a grip on your heart and wound tight within your muscles. "Ah! Good evening Captain Aizen. You caught me off guard for a moment there."

"My apologies, that was not at all my intention." The Fifth Division Captain sported a dark colored scarf, his long captain's coat and the standard shihakushō all Gotei officers were supposed to wear. In the sash around his waist resided his own sheathed zanpakuto. His tawny hair maintained its usual part but looked slightly tousled, yet still remaining so in a meticulous fashion that made it look intentional.

The state of his hair alone, and his current facial expression made Aizen look more . . . approachable if that’s how you were to describe it. There was a glint in his eyes that you had seldom seen before.

"Thank you, for making your way down here to accommodate my rather. . . . atypical request. I again extend my apologies if I have inconvenienced you in any way."

You shook your head in reply, "It's alright, I wasn't doing anything too important anyway. Just having a cup of tea and delighting myself in a book before bed."

You glanced downwards at the foot or so of space that was wedged in between the two of you. You forced away the murmurs of your lingering thoughts that took note of how the moonlight and shadows danced across the surface of Aizen's face just right, and emphasized his decidedly handsome features.

"But having a complete and good night's rest is important to be fully functional in all areas of one's performance. Wouldn't you agree?"

You couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Yes, I do agree with that sentiment."

Aizen all but hummed in acknowledgement, letting a moment of silence fill the air before speaking again.

"Shall we be on our way?"

You nodded in agreement, following him as the both of you walked about the First Division grounds. From what you could tell based on your position, your aimless nightly stroll drew you closer to where Sokyoku Hill was located. The area became increasingly more grassy and contained less buildings.

Although Squad 1 grounds weren't terribly far from either of your barracks, you still weren't sure as to why Captain Aizen wished to meet out here. Initially you thought that perhaps he was just fond of this particular scenery, but really it could have been anything.

But still, you believed Aizen always had a purpose for everything he did.

After several moments, his warm voice replaced the evening silence, vocalizing your current thoughts. “I assume you are contemplating why it is I have asked you here, and I’m afraid the reason is quite benign. Truthfully, I just wished for your company. I often go on night walks to clear my head after a long day and thought I might invite you to join me this time, and have a conversation with each other."

Your brows shifted upwards, for that was not quite the answer you were expecting. It seemed too . . . simple. “Really? You just . . . wanted to talk with me? Plainly?”

The Squad 5 captain let out a short, soft laugh at the disbelief that was painted on your face. There was an expression of fondness present in his eyes and in the light smile he offered you. “Yes, exactly. I quite enjoy our discussions actually, they’re intellectually stimulating and relatively pleasant. You crossed my mind, and before yesterday, it has been quite some time since we’ve had the opportunity to unwind and talk.”

You hummed an mhmm in agreement, tearing your eyes away from Aizen’s side profile in favor of the hem of his captain’s haori, watching how it danced in the soft breeze. It seemed to be less distracting than the way Aizen peered down at you from time to time.

"I see. I am. . . . truly flattered by your words, Captain Aizen; you're too kind. Forgive me for asking but," you took longer strides so that you could fall into step next to him━ as if to speak to him more directly, "Why at this time? To talk with me, I mean. It couldn't wait until more . . . . . conventional hours?"

He chuckled again, and answered as smoothly as if he were awaiting you to ask him that. "Unfortunately, today's tasks ran a little long today, so I had to stay at my office later than usual." The spectacled man paused for a moment, before setting his soft gaze on you, "And besides, that completely defeats the purpose of inviting you on a night stroll, doesn't it?"

You ignored the heat flaring up in your cheeks again. Your mind refused to move past the fact that you had crossed Sōsuke Aizen's mind enough times━ or the times that he thought about you were significant enough━ and highly enough to invite you into his realm and indulge in these moments with him, when he very much could have done that alone.

A tender smile appeared on your lips, more towards yourself than the man next to you. "I. . . suppose it does."

The ashen-white moon only rose higher in the sky, providing an ambiance of tranquility as the both of you talked about whatever crossed the surface of your minds. Other times, the stillness of the night did the talking, and you'd listen to the leaves, and the wind, and the crickets sing together in harmony. Gradually as you walked and the beaten path grew more narrow, your figures drew closer together, until you could feel the long sleeves of his haori brush against your own.

You hadn't noticed that the two of you eventually stopped walking and paused under a tree until Aizen struck up conversation once more. When he called out your name in that gentle, velvety voice, you swore your heart was going to lurch out of your chest. The sound of your name rolled of his tongue so smoothly, the desire to hear it again grew within you.

"Uh━ yes, Captain Aizen?"

"Are you satisfied with way things are at the moment?"

You stood next to him, perplexed at his inquiry due to its vague nature. "Um, what. . . . things? I'm afraid I don't understand what you're asking."

The wind brushed Aizen's dark ochre tresses across his face as he took a step towards you, like the breeze itself was pushing him towards you. "Hm, perhaps I should be more clear then. Are you content with being a soul reaper? Are you satisfied with being a soldier for the Soul Society?"

With your brows slightly furrowed in thought, you remained silent for several seconds and overanalyzed his every word, trying to predict where he might be steering the conversation now. The longer you thought it over, the stronger that nagging feeling from within your soul became. The one that often told you what he was asking wasn't exactly . . . it didn't quite feel . . . . .

"This feels like a prelude to another insightful discussion on Shinigami━ and by extension━ Seiretei politics." Your words cut off your own thoughts, as if your mind was trying to sweep something under the proverbial rug.

Aizen huffed in amusement, before lightly shrugging, leaving your statement definitively unanswered.

You sighed as you seriously considered his question this time. "I mean sure, I guess. I'm somewhat satisfied with my job and all of . . . this," gesturing your hands in the air around you to emphasize your point. The 5th Division Captain made another humming noise, indicating that you still had his full attention. He inched a little closer into your personal space.

The mere action caused your next words to die in your throat and a quiet chuckle resounded from his, before your thoughts revived themselves again.

"Of course things could always be better but. . . . y'know. This is just how it is." You weren't quite sure if you should voice negative opinions about the Soul Society so plainly to a senior officer, even if he was the one who asked you in the first place, so you treaded lightly.

The same plainly relaxed smile from earlier remained painted across his lips, held in his chestnut irises was an emotion akin to affection. He seemed somewhat pleased that you were expressing your thoughts with him.

“And you? Are you satisfied, Captain Aizen?” You were unable to keep the teasing endearment out of your tone as you returned his gaze, casting aside the notions of Gotei officer seating and ranks for the moment. The air seemed like it shifted━ towards what, you weren't sure of━ but it kind of made you feel like you were adrift, floating in isolation from everything else around you.

It was still hard to process that you were alone with Captain Aizen right now. . . . at night.

A low hum reverberated within his chest, contemplative in nature as he replied, “Perhaps.”

The wind whistled lowly again, erecting goosebumps on whatever part of your skin happened to catch the midnight breeze. You fought the instinctual urge to twitch towards the nearest source of heat, which happened to be Aizen. Now that would be even more wholly inappropriate than the 'lovers meeting at midnight' scenario.

The silence between the both of you was brief, but comfortable nonetheless. Once more his mellifluous voice cut through the quiet, leveled and calm, like still ocean waters.

“Come. I want to show you something,” Aizen reached his arm out towards you, your spine as straight as if someone stuck a metal rod dipped in ice water down your robes.

The captain's movements seemed steady and slow━ it had felt like time itself had hesitated for several moments. You thought he was going to . . . . well you weren't sure what he was going to do, and that's what you made you nervous.

Was he going to touch you? Cradle your cheek? Remove a stray leaf that happened to land on your head? You were left somewhat dangling in anticipation, not daring to flinch backwards because you felt it would be disrespectful or offensive. You hadn't even blinked, subconsciously fearing that this was only a very vivid daydream.

But alas, when his arm drew near it extended past your head, slightly above you, and held a small branch in his palm it like a delicate flower. You released a breath you didn't know you were holding, but that breath drew short again when your gaze was eye level with his lower neck and chin.

He seemed . . . . closer.

“I think that regarding the condition of the Soul Society," Aizen began in a quiet voice, referencing his own reply to his earlier question, "and therefore my thoughts about it, is akin to this set of leaves on this branch."

Snapping out of whatever stupor you seemed to have slipped in, you exhaled softly before stepping back a bit to look at what he was talking about. In his palm he cradled a wayward branch that grew from one of the other sturdier branches of the tree. The green foliage of its arms had started to weaken and dull in color. The cold air due to the seasonal transition to autumn caused the leaves become brittle, nearing closer to the edge of death.

The sound of just how brittle they were resounded in the air when Aizen thumbed the leaves in between his fingertips, observing their texture with pity laced in his small movements.

"These leaves will fall off as it gets colder. And soon, the rest of this tree will be bare as well. When the time comes, when the right circumstances fall into place, the old die to make way and usher in the new; it's simply the way things are. I think of the Soul Society government is structured in a similar manner."

You hung onto his every word, like he were imparting crucial wisdom to you. Even though you were a bit confused on the last part, and on the connection between dying leaves and Soul Society, you still listened intently, waiting for him bridge the gap between the two.

"The Soul Society as it is now can be thought of as a season. And this particular season, this climate has remained so for several centuries. How can nature continue━ how can we continue to progress when the old have yet to be washed away by the currents of time? It defies that of nature, yes?" He directed this question at you specifically, in search of your agreement.

You nodded your head, tearing your gaze away from the branch and directed it at the grass beneath your feet. Your brows furrowed a little as you mused over Aizen's words. He gave a rather ambiguous answer before but now, his words sounded like vague displeasure and muted criticism. Everyone was entitled to their opinion, and on some fronts, you'd sometimes agreed with the 5th Division Captain. The Soul Society was far from perfect, too much emphasis on nobility and status, the government resembled too closely to an oligarchy . . . But you didn't━ wouldn't voice these thoughts, though.

Instead you hummed quietly under your breath. There was that tugging sensation again. This time it told you that there was something deeper to this conversation than meets the eye. But what could there be? Was there anything at all or were you just overthinking it?

The voice-like sensation in your soul was calling out to you, but you couldn't hear it that well or quite make out what it was saying. It's as if someone was calling out to you in a crowded room that had music playing on the speakers: you felt like if you listened hard enough you could make it out but ultimately, the result would fruitless.

"And when that happens," Aizen continued, "sometimes nature has to be gently nudged back on track to keep things moving smoothly. That may require . . . shaking the tree. Pulling a few harmful weeds from one's garden, so to speak."

"Weeds?" You echoed. You felt like you understood this analogy and therefore what he was trying to say, but at the same time you didn't. Or was it . . . . you didn't want to understand what he was implying?

Because if you were interpreting his words correctly, if he were inconspicuously comparing the higher-ups and the government itself to dying leaves and harmful plants that needed to be removed, then . . . .

"You, dear child, are a mere weed in this scenario."

Wait, what did he just━

Your thoughts were cut short when a gush of air that smelt strongly of Aizen━ warm oak, vanilla, and a kind of musk that you weren't sure how to describe but was still pleasant all the same━ brushed against your face and took you by surprise.

But there was another aroma that arose, steadily becoming more apparent alongside the increasingly painful throbbing feeling you felt in your abdomen.

It smelt metallic. And it was something that you've smelt all too many times before.

It was blood.

Your gaze that was initially narrowed in confusion lowered as it followed the source of this pain. Your eyes slowly widened in as you struggled to comprehend the blade that was currently ran through your torso.

Aizen's blade.

"Actually, instead of weeds, a more accurate and befitting analogy perhaps would be blades of grass. You unfortunately have to step on them in order to reach the weeds you want to remove."

You couldn't really focus on what the captain was saying, because your brain was still struggling to process what the hell just happened. Your hands slowly rose from their sides and shakily grazed the zanpakuto, wanting to believe that if you touched it, it would pass right through your fingers like mist. But no, the sensation of cold steel was as real as the robes you wore on your back. You only just now are processing the muffled squelching sound of his sword impaling your flesh.

You wanted to scream, to cry in pain, to vomit, to push him off━ something. But all you could do was stand there, stunned, words completely failing you. "Wh. . . . what? Why did . . . . you . . . . "

A cough replaced your attempt at a comprehensive sentence, and you tasted iron in your mouth.

Fuck....was this really happening?

"Please don't push yourself trying to talk," His voice was like an index finger to one's lips, similar to a parent's gentle caress to quiet and sooth their child, "You'll only hasten your death. And I'm sure you wish to know the reason for my killing you, yes? You'd have to be alive for that."

'Killing me?' 'My death?' The certainty that rang in his words chilled the blood in your veins, and they confirmed the one conclusion you hoped wouldn’t come true: that you were going to die.

The frigid embrace of fear and dread engulfed you from behind and you shivered, causing the blade snugly lodged in your organs to shift. The pain of that foreign object moving even a little bit shot through your entire body, causing a groan to emerge from your throat.

Desperate to conserve your energy and the oxygen that was becoming a little harder to take in, your breathing became uneven and a little wheezed. Even then, you couldn’t bring yourself to meet the gaze of Captain Aizen to confirm if this was really happening or just an extremely realistic and vivid nightmare. The sight you might be greeted with could be more frightening than the actual impaling of his sword.

As if his betrayal couldn’t actually or figuratively cut you any deeper, just then there was a noise that grew louder and louder within a matter of seconds until it was almost deafening. You’ve distinguished it to be the sound of glass crackling.

Your surroundings formed cracks everywhere on its surface, like it was just an oversized window. Even on the grass you stood on, or what you thought was grass, began to crumble away.

A dumbfounded but panicked look was plastered on your face when your world literally shattered around you, the only remnants of it being you and the Captain.

What was underneath the mirage━ or you should say, the fact that it was a mirage at all━ only disturbed you and increased your perplexity.

Slightly hunched over and breathing heavily, it took a minute to process where you were, but you noticed that now the two of you stood in a formal room that looked like it was used for important meetings. The lights in the room slowly started to brighten, most likely due to motion sensors. Even with Aizen's scent lingering in your nose, you could still pick out a rather stale aroma that hung in the air like dead fruit that hadn't fallen off the tree.

"Is . . . this Cen . . . tral━ "

"You are correct. Where we currently stand is the assembly hall for Central 46, the judicial power of the Soul Society. All judiciary as well as legislative trials and proceedings are held here."

All around the room were seats with partitions, the kanji for 1 through 46 printed on them. In the seat for the 19th member, your gaze caught onto something on the translucent barrier. It was a little farther up so you had to squint your already blurring vision to see it properly.

You saw, and your heart promptly sank as a result, eyes widening once more.

There were splatters of a dark colored substance on the partition━ undeniably blood. And the lithe, bony fingers of an older man laid lifeless, peeking out from the side of the screen like the appendages themselves were trying to escape from the body they were attached to.

That man . . . was dead. That stale aroma you smelt was the stench of death.

It was only after that unsettling epiphany did your eyes dart frantically around the room and realize that every member of Central 46 was dead.

The disturbed expression on your face only intensified as your stare was pulled back down to where Aizen's blade still resided in your body.

" Cap.....Aizen," you uttered, swift to correct yourself. All the moisture in your throat dried up like water underneath the unrelenting rays of the sun. You kept gulping your saliva in an attempt to assuage the sensation, but relief only last for a fleeting few seconds. "Did you ━ you killed them . . . didn't you?" Your question was laced with shaky hesitance and swelled with apprehension, fearing that you already knew his reply even before he answered.

There was a moment of silence and a hum before he replied. "Smart girl."

The muted mirthful tone in his voice sounded like sarcasm, and it was enough to finally draw your attention away from everything else and directly look at him. Almost instantly, you regretted it.

His umber tinted gaze was colder than you remembered. You couldn't find anything in his eyes that hinted that all of this was just a big misunderstanding, or a dream, or that Aizen had a secret sense dark and complex humor.

This was your first, and apparently your last time, that you have ever felt a fear such as this. Your mind was struggling to comprehend this was the same Aizen that spoke with you so gently, full of encouragement and wisdom. The same man that recommended you books to read and gifted you tea to drink and gazed upon you like . . .

Well, none of that mattered now. In this moment, Sōsuke Aizen wasn't the same man anymore. This Sōsuke Aizen was someone else, and it frightened you.

"When?" you croaked, your voice no longer sounding like your own. Nothing felt real anymore. "W-When did you . . . . . how? Why?"

Another noncommittal hum resounded from the spectacled man as he closed his eyes, feigning the action of thinking of an answer. When he reopened them, his narrow gaze returned to you.

"Everyone in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads was previously aware that the ability of my zanpakuto, Kyoka Suigetsu, allowed me to confuse the enemy using bodies of water, mist and even moisture in the air in order to attack. However, that is not my zanpakuto's actual power; there is more to it than just simple confusion. Kyoka Suigetsu's true power is Complete Hypnosis. Essentially, when someone looks at my blade, I am then able to take control of that person’s five senses, causing them to believe that something is real ━ or that something isn't real. In a way, once glancing at my unsheathed zanpakuto, that person forfeits their sense of existence to me. Kyoka Suigetsu is quite flawless in its deceptive abilities."

A heavy silence, aside from your uneven breaths, endured in the space between both of you. You didn't need him to spell out what he was trying to say.

It was all . . . . an illusion. A convoluted, premeditated illusion. And you walked right into it without even knowing or considering, that it was all fake.

The Fifth Division Captain inwardly smiled at the despair clearly written on your face as he watched you mentally put the pieces together. He took your lack of reply as a sign to continue. "The members of Central 46 have unfortunately been dead for quite some time now. And as for your question of why......"

The taller man stepped towards you which inadvertently (or purposely, you began to fear), drove his sword deeper into your abdomen without warning and slight force. You bit down on your bottom lip hard to stifle your exclamation of pain. In an attempt to somehow resist him, with the little strength you had left, your hands automatically took purchase in his oversized sleeves, but it did nothing. You found it ironic that you could feel how warm Aizen was underneath his robes, but his soul was anything but.

" . . . . I believe I already mentioned it earlier, yes? All flowers die eventually and the weeds......must be removed."

At that moment you remembered that tugging sensation that told you something felt off in some instances whenever you talked with Aizen. This must have been what it was. Damn it all. You still didn't understand exactly what bad things Central 46 and the Soul Society have done to cause his actions, but based on what you've been told and your current position, it must have been heinous. Again, you actively swallowed the urge to vomit.

"You . . . you lied. I can't believe━ how could it have all b-been a lie?" Another nasty cough rattled your body, followed by a shiver and a groan.

The brown-haired man slightly tilted his head, like he was truly confused. "Lied? Hmm, well. I suppose you could put it that way based on your limited knowledge of the circumstances, but I wouldn't put it that way. Besides, this isn't really about truth or lies. It is, and always has been, only about the reality of what is. And what is, is that you were unable to anticipate my deception. No one could, because it was outside the domain of your thoughts. What is, is that the current way the Soul Society operates is tainted, and I shall be the one to remedy it."

You drew another shuddering breath and looked down at the ground with a grim expression as your blood continued to pool at your feet. Briefly, you even considered unsheathing yourself from his blade and take the chance to make a run for it, but the chances of you making it to the outside world, let alone coming across someone before you bled out and died were slim. Besides, it was clear that you couldn't even trust your own senses anymore after Aizen demonstrated that he had complete control of your reality.

Which reminded you of something else.

" . . . when?" you asked the same question again, but much quieter than before, despair palpable in your voice. 'When and how did you subject me to your zanpakuto's Complete Hypnosis?', is what you were really asking. And being as intelligent as he was, the spectacled man understood.

Abruptly, with a large palm on the small of your back, Aizen used his gentle hold grip to pull you towards him in order to close the remaining distance, causing him to drive the remaining length of his zanpakuto all the way through until the tsuba of his blade rested against your stomach. You looked like a skewered piece of meat.

You didn't have the willpower to hold back the piercing shriek of agony and physical anguish as tears sprung forth from your eyes. You could no longer tell if your blurry vision was due to your tears obstructing your sight or if it was from being a step away from death's door.

"Do you remember . . . the first time we met?"

The hand that rested on your lower back slowly glided upwards until his fingers found your jaw. With a tenderness that reminded you of a time before his betrayal, he lifted your chin and guided your gaze to look at him directly. His thumb moved to graze your bottom lip just as you've done mere hours ago━ as if he knew that, as if he watched you do it. His thumb was dangerously close to slipping inside your mouth and that both excited and scared you. Your breasts against his, your breaths synchronized with his, your body and his were fully pressed against each other and it made focusing on his question more difficult.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The first time . . . we met? Sure, with a little bit of effort you could easily recall the first time you formally met Aizen. It was sometime in the spring, and you remembered him running through combat formations with his lieutenant and the rest of his squad. But why d━

A silent gasp left you. Another epiphany, another figurative blade piercing your heart.

Battle formations, and he . . . offered you to join them . . . his zanpakuto . . . . .

Confusion crumbled away, and was replaced with vacant horror and sadness. It seems you've already been defeated, for many, many years now.

Aizen seemed to murmur something under his breath, a pleased sound you couldn't quite decipher. His mouth brushed over yours, rendering you literally speechless, before he closed the distance and brought your lips together. You could barely process what was happening.

It was ironically tragic how soft and skillfully gentle his lips were against yours. The kiss felt longing, like a departure between two sweethearts and their last meeting together. It also felt heavy and final, making you want to cry.

And you did. Silent tears streamed from your eyes and rolled onto the fingers that still held your face so affectionately. The captain reacted by guiding your chin up a little further, dipping his head a little lower, so he could deepen the kiss. You weakly scorned yourself for thinking about how the two of you must really look like lovers now, sans the sword sticking out from your back.

Oh, how cruel this was; how cruel he was. It was cruel for him to kiss you like this, hand still splayed on your back like he needed to touch you stay sane. And how cruel it was that still managed to enjoy it, even as you stood there dying. Your lips moved together in tandem, slow and almost passionate, all while tears stained the apples of your cheeks, drying up the plush youth that once resided in them.

Aizen's tongue had slithered its way into your mouth, and you suddenly felt like crying harder. There was a tart, sweet flavor lingering on his tastebuds, and you absently wondered what is was. Perhaps hibiscus from tea, you surmised. And he too tasted the sweet jasmine and citrus that clung your tongue and lips. At this, he chuckled quietly into your mouth, humming before retracting from you by a few inches so he could speak.

"I knew you would like the tea. It's sweet and flavorful, isn't it?" You hated how low his voice was, how its timbre pleasurably vibrated and rumbled against your lips, and you hated that lidded stare he gave you. You again thought it unfair that you couldn't even revel in the rare sight of Aizen's lips slightly wet because your lips were intertwined with his.

"I have to thank you for humoring me and my recommendations. I really appreciated it. And I also," you winced loudly and cried out in affliction as Aizen finally began to withdraw the sword from your body, "must to bid you farewell now. It seems you don't have any more time left, and this has dragged on for longer than it needed. I'm not surprised you've held out for this long, as I already knew you possessed commendable strength. But alas it wasn't enough. I am sorry that you have to die; it's rather regrettable that you happened to be that blade of grass that ended up underneath my foot."

Another wail was yanked from your chest as he steadily removed his sword from your abdomen. The pain was becoming excruciating, you would have collapsed by now if the taller man weren't holding you.

You saw two things before the light in your eyes had all but faded away. The first were the colors of faux pity and apathy that swirled in Sōsuke Aizen's irises, spiraling like a storm that was certain to wreak havoc in its wake. His gaze was devoid of any regret or remorse; the final metaphorical nail on the coffin. The second was a small smile.

But this wasn't one of his smiles you were familiar with. No wait . . . . the one you knew was simply a veneer of what is.

This smile was slanted, the corners of his lips tilted upwards and was sharp. Sharp enough to cut open your already gaping wound further and completely tear you apart, spelling out your demise. It looked insidious as if it were hiding razor-edged fangs. This was what is; Aizen's real smile.

"I. . . I see. Aize. . . ." were the last words you were able to manage. You didn't have the strength to be upset or hurt any longer, so you gave in to the exhaustion.

Your body permanently relaxed, long lashes veiling your now empty eyes as your arms lifelessly dropped to your sides. The captain found a disturbing amount of pleasure in his name being the final word you attempted to speak before succumbing to the sleep of death.

And even after the fact, the facade of doomed, star-crossed lovers persisted as your body slumped backwards. Aizen's strong forearm wrapped tightly around your waist being the only reason you didn't fall to the ground in a puddle of your own blood.

That day was the last anyone saw of you, your zanpakuto still laid idly in your room, its spirit destined to forever wander in the afterlife between worlds alone, eventually fading from existence without ever feeling the presence of its master again.

They had declared you missing by the end of the next day. Lieutenant Hisagi was probably the most perturbed about your sudden disappearance. Days, weeks passed, and they never located you. The Gotei 13 was left unsettled by the lack of progress, but ultimately had to rule your case inconclusive. Some believed that you were simply killed by a stray hollow, or even ran away from your duties because of the stress.

The news of what happened spread like wildfire across all the squads, that a high-ranked officer just up and vanished without a trace. The spirits and morale of the thirteen companies dampened, sorrow and worry swelling like a festering boil.

And that boil burst when Ryoka infiltrated the Soul Society, and when it was revealed that all of it was carefully orchestrated by Sōsuke Aizen.

Like a blade of grass that somehow snuck into one's sandals or in between their toes, during his time in Hueco Mundo, images of you flashed in his head at unexpected times when his mind was quiet. He'd remove the grass, tossed you aside, and moved on with his day. There was no room for you in the grand scheme of things. Such reminisces were beneath someone like him.

And yet.

He'd always find another piece of grass from the greenery he stepped on whenever he advanced a step in his plans. There you were again.

It was common knowledge that if you kept repeating the same action over and over, it will eventually wear you down.

━━━━━━ 鏡  ━━━━━━━

It was dark, and there was nothing.

There had been nothing for quite a long time now. Utter darkness and the abyssal shade of black engulfed every inch of Aizen's body and surroundings.

He saw nothing, the seals over his eyes too opaque to let anything through. And even if they weren't obscuring his vision, he would barely be able to see three feet in front of him; there was seldom a few lanterns in his cell to begin with. He felt nothing but the bindings that kept him imprisoned in one of the deepest pits of the Seireitei. At times it felt like even his internal organs had stilled in their functions. He heard nothing but the unrelenting quiet of his cell within Mugen's maw. The only thing that served as proof that he hasn't spontaneously grown deaf yet was the occasional muffled noise that originated from outside of the entrance. And even then, he could hardly hear much of anything.

Such is an ironic fate for someone who, with a stray thought and a glint of his blade, could control someone's senses and take away their free will to experience those senses in their reality. And now, he was stripped away of all of his in nearly every capacity.

Sōsuke Aizen was rendered stationary and stagnant, qualities he detested and were the antithesis of his ambitions and plans, perhaps even his existence.

Aizen had always believed in being in control of your own destiny and making your own choices; if you had the opportunity and the power to change something━ especially if it was something that was wrong, unfair or immoral━ then one should be able to move towards that goal by making change, even if by force. The former captain had always been intentional about his actions and his desires right from the start.

And yet, here he ended up.

Spending years strapped to a chair in this dark, cloistered hole, Aizen had nothing but time to reflect the reason for his arrest: that orange haired Ryoka boy, Ichigo Kurosaki. He had nothing but time to admit to himself and settle on the conclusion that his last battle with the substitute Shinigami . . . did something to him.

Fighting the Ryoka boy ignited something inside him that he previously believed would forever lay dormant.

The thrill of a challenge.

Adrenaline was injected into his veins with each clash of their swords, spreading far and wide across every inch of his body. It no longer reacted in the measured, calculative manner he had programmed it to, but with unadulterated, pure instinct and raw power━ all in an effort to not only withstand such potent spirit energy from his opponent, but to come out on top and win.

It made him feel alive.

Aizen's desire to be the victor in battle and in his philosophy━ to prove himself right━ both fueled him and consumed him so thoroughly it led to his own downfall. That was a rather difficult fact to acknowledge; so much so his head started to pulsate intensely whenever it crossed his mind one time too often.

All of it unfolded right in front of his eyes and yet . . . he didn't really see it happen.

As time passed during his perpetual incarceration, with hooded eyes, the former captain spent an unfathomable amount of time tossing and turning every single event that led him to this underground prison, even pondering his temporary release by the Head Captain Kyōraku to fight in the war. Scenarios both minor and significant displayed itself in front of his mind's eye as if he were watching a film.

Every so often, a blurred visage of your image would make a brief appearance, like the flickering sparks of a match before they were able to come to light, fading away into the void and were overshadowed by his other thoughts. It was as if his own consciousness and intentionally muted any manifestations of your existence in his memories. As if he wasn't able to or allowed to see them━ to remember you for too long.

Mentally reliving moments from the last several months, years, decades, centuries━ trying to analyze each moment and decipher where it could have went wrong━ turned out to be quite an exhausting task. His mind and body would grow heavier with inertia, and eventually he would succumb to the alluring pull of slumber. After some time he would rouse from his sleep, and continued from where he left off.

These were his daily activities day in and day out (even though he had trouble distinguishing day and night in his chambers) for years. He saw a positive side to it though. He'd instead think of it has him getting stronger because he had spent so long . . . thinking. Ruminating. Contemplating every possibility in the past, present, and future. His mind would become as sharp as his zanpakuto.

Aizen had always been intentional about what he did, what he said, and how he conducted himself. He was sure in his abilities to orchestrate an image━ a belief for others to have faith in, and act on it in order to further his goals. He was always sure in that image, knowing who he was and what he stood for.

Or at least, that's what he thought.

Aizen wasn't consciously aware that his certainty in this crafted image had already begun to waver. He could not and was unable to anticipate how severe these small fractures had become until after a certain lieutenant paid him a visit outside his cell of confinement, right before he was scheduled to be thrown back into that dark hole of the Mugen.

Lieutenant Shuhei Hisagi was quite emotive when he burst through the doors. His expressions were contorted in volatile mixture of frustration, anger and sadness. His emotions were every which way, directed at everything that has happened so far, including himself. He was especially emotive at Aizen specifically for what he did to former captain Kaname Tosen and 'corrupting him with his twisted ideals.'

Aizen found amusement in that.

Before he was rolled away by the punishment force and therefore out of earshot, a particular set of Hisagi's words caused the small, content smile on his lips to uncurl ever so slightly. "Everything . . . and everyone that has ever gotten themselves involved with you has been trampled on by you and your ideals one way or another, and they all end up dead. If you think what you did to Captain Tosen was justified━ to call it mercy . . . . . then there is truly no justice in this world. You will . . . forever be the enemy in my eyes."

There was a trembling anger in his voice. Pain that wanted to cry out and be set free but, the thin lid of reason prevented it from doing so. And after a moment of silence, the corners of Aizen's lips curved upwards once more. A little bemused, a little more wolfish this time. He maliciously imagined Hisagi's reaction if he ever discovered the true reason for your disappearance.

But instead, all he said was. "What an interesting thing to say, Shuhei Hisagi. Your conviction is admirable." Any evidence of emotion that might have been reflected in his sepia irises was swallowed up and obscured by the darkness of the Mugen's jaw.

The cracks in Aizen's sense of self, in his beliefs, in the image he invented started to cave under the weight of Hisagi's words before he himself realized it was happening. They were like stains in the fabric of his mind that refused to come out.

What puzzled him more, was that with each attempt to figure out just why Hisagi's words echoed in his mind, they all lead back to you, the third seat of the 9th squad. Annoyingly so.

The tattooed lieutenant hadn’t said anything particularly profound ━ at least, Aizen didn't think so. Your name didn’t even fall from his lips. So why were memories of you and your likeness the only clear thoughts he could make of Hisagi's speech? Was it because he was aware of how close the two of you were? He doubted the reason were that trivial and insignificant.

His thoughts grew more discordant by the day, his soul a little more weighted than usual. Perhaps these new seals that Urahara had fashioned actually had an effect on him, Aizen thought. It made sense. His intellect, other than his own, were the only ones capable of creating such effective restraints.

After a while, he had a revelation. This was a different kind of weight.

This heaviness, the closest word he knew to describe it as . . . . was loneliness.

Time taunted him as it seemed to drag on━ Aizen grew even less sure of how much━ when he came to this realization. Hisagi's words were a clear mirror to the loneliness that echoed within him after what happened to you and to Tosen. It was so . . . potent, that it seemed to strike some chord in Aizen he had never heard before.

Such a chord, this sound of loneliness, it was strange and uncomfortable; he wasn't very fond of this sensation. He'd try to scrub it away, but it was all for naught.

His eyes had slid shut at some point, his ruminations leading to dead ends and wearing him down. And, almost as expected, there you were again, in all your translucent glory. The hem, the sleeves, and even the smell of your yukata slowly dragged across his dreams, haunting his thoughts like a lonely wraith.

And Aizen hardly dreamt of anything.

When he regained consciousness he was plagued with yet another epiphany. An additional reason behind this newfound depth.

Aizen's own loneliness. Guilt. Much to his own quiet horror.

How foreign and unusual a thing like guilt is. It was like looking into a mirror and not recognizing something you had never noticed before, but wondered if it had always been there.

But the thing Aizen did recognize, how lonely he actually felt, was something he had hoped would never resurface again. It was a notion he hadn't had the time or regard to consider━ 'loneliness'. Its only purpose, if any, was solely to serve as a motivator. At times though, it was more like a hindrance.

Something akin to nausea slowly started to bubble up in the pit of his stomach, but he suppressed the sensation before it became any more intense.

What of his previous actions did he need to feel guilty for? He hadn't felt it then, so why would he feel it now? Again he ruminated such a question endlessly into oblivion.

The former captain had no doubts that his plan to remove the Soul King, and therefore the Soul Society's sins, were necessary.

Nor did any hesitancy about removing the opposition or dead weight━ whether shinigami or arrancar━ existed.

He certainly had no reservations against killing Kaname Tosen, for he knew the man well enough to know that Tosen would have been so thoroughly appalled with what he had become, it would have drove him mad.

So what was it, then? Why were such useless emotions as guilt and loneliness being amplified n━

"Y....know, S....."

Even covered by the seals, Aizen's eyes widened and his brows were slightly furrowed in distress. Had his mind finally tipped the scales of sanity and madness, to the point where he was hearing things?

It was quiet for several moments longer, before his senses caught onto the sound of water dripping onto a hard surface.

One drop at a time.

Its cadence a little too rhythmic to be natural. And for a second time, he heard that soft, ominous sounding whisper. Its voice a little clearer this time.

"You...know.....Sōsuke."

In the second it took for his eyes to flutter shut behind its seals to blink, when he reopened them, he was no longer sealed to the walls and floors of the Mugen, nor was he surrounded by every shade of darkness imaginable. His limbs and senses were finally freed to breathe for the first time in what felt like ages.

That relief was short-lived when his senses absorbed the unending landscape of water underneath his feet, water lilies lifelessly floating on its surface, and the dim sky illuminated by a full pale moon.

Aizen was in his inner world, and now he was aware of how he got here, or rather who brought him here.

"You . . . already know the answer to that question, Sōsuke." The voice was even more clear, its sentences more comprehensible. And it sounded it eerily like you.

Why the voice was impersonating your likeness had caught him off guard for half a second, but he realized it was only the work of his zanpakuto, Kyoka Suigetsu.

An illusion it may be, there was an untouchable quality about your voice and how you spoke that even Kyoka Suigetsu couldn't replicate.

A few feet away from him, the water was disturbed by a being emerging from the depths. Ripples formed around a manifested version of his zanpakuto, who took the form of you, smiling ever so gently. The smile felt airy, and it didn't seem like the same one that haunted his dreams and every waking thought as of late. It felt....knowing.

Still, the former captain couldn't be bothered to maintain eye contact with his sword spirit, so he turned around and opted to keep his unreadable stare trained on the vast expanse of water and white lilies.

"It's been quite a while since I have stepped foot into this realm. There must be something you want . . . Kyoka."

The zanpakuto chuckled, it sounded like the way you would softly laugh at one of his clever quips. But this wasn't you.

He didn’t want to admit that something about that fact didn’t sit right with him.

"Judging from your tone, would I be correct in assuming you don't want to be here?"

Silence rang out within the soul scape, before Aizen interrupted it, his gentle voice colored a shade darker, and a little rigid. "And I fail to see the reason why you must take that form when you revealed yourself to me. Is your aim to get a reaction out of me? Or something along those lines?"

Your eyes━ the eyes of Kyoka Suigetsu━ narrowed at its master's back, as if they were trying to create concavities in his skull. But the expression was washed away the moment it appeared, the serene smile from before was back in place.

"You know . . . it's considered quite rude to not look at someone when you're addressing them. That, and when you deliberately ignore things they say. Your manners have been deteriorating, Sōsuke. Tsk, tsk."

Kyoka-dressed-as-you suddenly appeared before him, as if they had teleported. Even when they were in his peripheral vision, Aizen still maintained his stare off into the distant nothingness.

"Unless, you can't find it in yourself to look at me. . . that's correct, isn't it? It's because I look exactly like her, right?" The zanpakuto continued to provoke him, taking a step closer into his personal space.

With an exasperated sigh, his eyelids fell shut for a second, using that time to gather the strength he didn't know he needed, and directed his gaze to meet his spirit's. Aizen's face gave nothing away, but his heart lurched about his chest when his bronze eyes met with yours, or what was made to look like yours. The undesired affect it had on him was all the same.

"If you wish to chastise me about manners, I suggest you take your own advice. You didn't answer my first question, either: what is it you want? Why am I here?" Again the former captain chose to not address the other parts of Kyoka's statement. For the sake of his sanity and his thinning patience━ or was it to preserve his resolve?

Its smile widened a bit, moving another step closer to their master. God, Kyoka even smelled like you, mimicking your signature honeyed scent that Aizen didn't realize he found so intoxicating until this very moment.

"I called you here to save you from yourself."

Aizen remained silent, only narrowing his eyes in speculation. "Meaning?"

"Didn't I already say it earlier? I think you already know what I'm talking about, Sōsuke. You've always known."

Fate's pairing of Kyoka Suigetsu with Aizen was a match crafted from the spindles of heaven, but also a maddening curse pulled from the depths of hell, for they complimented each other a little too well. The zanpakuto was too perfect a reflection of Aizen and his soul, looking at it started to hurt his eyes.

His sword spirit insisted that he already knew the reason for his coming here, and perhaps he did have an inkling the moment the light of epiphany was shone on his profound loneliness and guilt. But that couldn't have been what it was referring to . . . . could it?

"You cannot feign ignorance here, my dear Sōsuke, however I do find it rather humorous you bother trying. If you'd like, I don't mind humoring you by spelling it out for you. I'd be glad to unearth the truth that you have buried in the most neglected corner of your heart."

"When you were . . . . subjecting yourself to such mental torment, it had an affect on this world as well. The ripples, the waves in this scape become quite . . . tumultuous." The nuances in your voice were perfected by his zanpakuto, but the way it talked sounded like a fog that was gradually closing in from over the horizon. The uneasy feeling that resided in his chest traveled down to his stomach, but Aizen's face remained steely, even when Kyoka Suigetsu took that final step to close the gap in between them. "And the reason for that, the reason why Hisagi's words rattled you so is because you regret killing that woman."

The creased line in Aizen's brow grew more prominent as he stared down his sentient sword spirit. With its breast pressed against his, they placed a hand on his clothed chest in a tantalizing manner, but he felt nothing. There was no warmth from its palm, much unlike when your hand touched him. There wasn't even a cool sensation either. Even minutes before your death, your touch brought a soothing heat that permeated through his shihakusho and penetrated his skin.

Kyoka's face grew nearer, their smile━ although still tender looking━ grew cold at its edges, nearly resembling that of a predator eager to see despair reflected in the eyes of its prey. It didn't fit the graceful allure of your face at all, and seeing this expression deeply unsettled the former captain more than he would like to admit.

"You regret . . . killing me."

A chill tore through Aizen's body, the weight of Kyoka's words adding onto the heaviness that still hasn't been alleviated from his heart; he was hardly able to suppress the involuntary shiver.

Without warning, Kyoka's mouth suddenly became dangerously close to their master's, its lips brushing against his in a provocative manner. Aizen's expression darkened when he realized that it was reenacting his last encounter with you when you were alive. His mouth started to grow uncomfortably dry, despite his soul scape being full of moisture, and there was a taste on the back of his tongue that's been lingering there since he arrived.

The lilt in Kyoka's tone continued to taunt him. "That is the reason for your guilt: regret. You have been in denial. And in the spirit of unearthing truths, I suppose I can admit that perhaps . . . . I've been . . . . encouraging said delusions, adding drops of fuel into the flames of your emotions and ambitions. But after all that's happened, when it comes down to it there's no point in continuing this hallucination any longer. I've grown tired of this game, so it's time to for you wake up now, Sōsuke. I've brought you here to release you from your own illusion, to completely shatter it."

Aizen's back was as stiff as a board, not moving a millimeter when Kyoka's lips grazed his again. They were breathing softly onto his mouth, but he hardly felt any puffs of air.

The former captain was having a rather difficult time processing the fact that his zanpakuto had its own agenda and had been manipulating his emotions without him noticing. Specifically the emotions he felt towards you.

He never truly believed that such a thing was possible, one's own blade having such a deep-rooted influence━ no, control over their master. Or would it be more accurate to say that he never expected himself to be controlled to such a degree? He that prided himself on being freed from the marionette strings of fate that were tied to his limbs and mind, he that relished being able to do what he wanted, think what he wanted, feel what he wanted━ or what he didn't want━ it was hard to believe that none of that mattered in the end.

Kyoka Suigetsu's deceptive abilities were indeed undeniably perfect. No one, not even Aizen himself could have anticipated that Kyoka's most absolute and complete hypnosis would be enacted on himself.

"Do you know now, Sōsuke? Do you understand?" Kyoka's voice was as soft as a whisper, but it couldn't hide the edges of its tone that were still sharpened from finding amusement of seeing the truth flash across its master's face. "You had destroyed the solution to your existential question of loneliness, before you could fully understand the question itself."

Yes . . . . . Aizen understood now.

He didn't bother acknowledging what Kyoka had said. His grim facial expression━ still, tinged with dolor, and paired with an indescribable, distant look his eyes━ said all that it needed to. His silence was as much as an admission as any.

Kyoka-dressed-as-you leaned forward again to fully close the gap between their lips and Aizen's. Tenderly, like the intentions of a lover, it spoke against his nearly closed mouth. "Have you figured it out yet?"

Nothing but quiet could be heard between them, as Kyoka's mouth moved about their master's face and placed something like kisses upon its surface, but not quite.

Aizen's cocoa-shaded eyes slide down to stare at his sword spirit pressed up against him. His gaze was hard, and yet something swam underneath its surface that his zanpakuto had never seen before. Melancholy, it guessed? They weren't quite sure.

Kyoka pressed on when Aizen remained quiet. "The taste in the back of your mouth. Have you figured out what it was? You know it quite well....."

Aizen's tongue grazed the roof of his mouth, sensing the rather unpleasant taste that has coated the inside of it. And within a moment, because he was faced with the current circumstances, Aizen had finally placed a name associated this particular taste. How unfortunate this was.

Upon his realization, Aizen's head lowered, and his brown tresses hung freely over his lashes. Perhaps it was so Kyoka couldn't properly see whatever remorseful expression painted their master's face, but it mattered not. Even from here, the sword spirit could already sense exactly what it was he was feeling.

And they loved it.

"It's a sweet and flavorful taste, isn't it? Quite lovely." Kyoka Suigetsu mimicked the exact words he uttered against your lips all those years ago when he tasted jasmine tea on your tongue, and sealed your death with a kiss. "It's too bad you don't seem to enjoy it anymore."

Aizen's chest continued to rise and fall calmly, and the hands of his sword spirit that rested there glided upwards to cup his strong jaw, caressing his skin with its thumb. Its phantasmic touch did nothing to stir their master.

"Sōsuke, do you know what the jasmine flower from that tea symbolizes?"

Aizen's lips were slightly parted, but again he didn't say anything. Instead, its corners twitched and lifted upwards by an inch, and he huffed softly.

Kyoka Suigetsu grinned in reply. "Good."

The next time Aizen blinked, he was plunged in darkness yet again. The restrictive feeling that swallowed his being whole had returned, and was an indicator that his zanpakuto had released him from his inner world. He was consciously back in the Mugen, back in this abyss they called a prison cell.

Kyoka was indeed as much as a formidable force in its own right, as much as, if not greater than Aizen himself.

The conversation he had with his sword spirit would be cemented in his head for all eternity. When he grew senile and began to physically wither away, the one thing that would remain vital like a young heart, was this epiphany that he had. This realization that he actually . . . .

As the chains of despair bound him tighter to the bottom of the metaphorical pit, regret and his loneliness corroding his flesh and spirit like metal exposed to moisture, a stray memory of his time in Hueco Mundo flashed in his mind. He recalled having tea prepared for meetings with his Espadas and he could not pinpoint when, but at some point, Aizen developed an aversion for jasmine flavored tea. For one reason or another, he no longer found its taste appealing; whenever he drank it, it always tasted bitter.

Now that reason had become painstakingly clear.

The binding on his mouth muffled a rueful chuckle at the though, and it trapped the flavor of jasmine on his lips.

(#) @soaringmirror @stygianoir @ryukenzz @blkjupiters @chrissie2003 @nymphoheretic @dejwrld @triangularz @souyaszn @kuujo @honeybleed @valentineluvu . let me know if you’d like to be apart of my tag list ♡♡.

[kingofanemptyworld]

hey you know what would be fun? a fic where the Royal Guard follows through with their plans to make Ichigo the new Soul King and Grimmjow promptly loses his shit because what the actual fuck Ichigo has already given these people literally everything, twice, and this is how they repay him? recruits Nel and Harribel and Urahara and Yoruichi (after Nel sits on him for a while because Jesus Christ Grimmjow you can’t storm Soul Society by yourself no matter how much you’ve powered up) and it’s the Ryoka Invasion all over again except with pissed off arrancar instead. I just think it would be neat

[zanguntsu]

i do have a handful of bleach ocs but my more recent one is very she is too normal she needs to have something wrong with her

[neo-zone]

Wait, I need to make sure of something :

Is Can't Fear Your Own World counted as canon canon, not canon, or the "lore is canon but story is not" type of semi-canon?

[junko222]

The newest chapter, chapter 4, is up.

The summary reads: After the attempted poisoning by Kyourku, Ichigo is restless. Having no better idea what to do with his time, he decides to head to Academy to try to catch at least one of the classes he was supposed to have attended. By chance, he runs into an old associate of one of Aizen's subordinates.

This is a continuation of a massive AiIchi fix-it fic that I started way, way back with "Forever With You Never Sounded so Stupid" (which starts with canon up to chapter 685, where it diverges profoundly. I do use bits and pieces of CFYOW, but not many.)

The story continues in "Academy Blues," where it mostly finishes the plot of the fix-it. We at least have a pair of Soul Kings.

We are now in post-plot territory, though there continues to be some intrigue as the Gotei 13, as you might imagine, is not terribly excited to have Aizen actually occupying the "Seat of Heaven" he once so covetously desired.

If you want to catch up to what I am calling a "Academy Blues Omake," you can start here: "The Soul King & I."

Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

//art by https://www.tumblr.com/aysmiro

[rayshippouuchiha]

Anon having a mental break over being forcefully dragged back to the Bleach fandom

Bleach: Can't Fear Your Own World by Ryoga Narita is a series of novels about the events post-TYBW arc, centred around Shuhei Hisagi. It was written with approval and inputs from Tite Kubo so it is considered canon by many especially as in the JET interview Kubo talked about Hisagi's rather protagonist like arc directly referring to CFYOW. Even if that's not enough for people to think its true canon, it is definitely considered canonish or canon-adjacent.

As for what the anon was talking about, CFYW reveals how Fullbringers aren't just babies of mother's who got attacked by hollows and to whom the residual hollow energy conferred powers. They are actually souls containing a piece of the Soul King and it is the presence of this piece in the fetus that attracted the Hollows to the mothers in the first place. The Hollow energy kickstarts their power so Fullbring still has a hollow tinge to its energy but it's not the true source of their power.

In the fic Warmth of a Torn Soul, this is why Muramasa senses similarities between Mikazuki and Zangetsu Ossan. Ichigo's Quincy powers come from Masaki, an echt Quincy, making Ichigo a gemischt Quincy. All Quincy have a piece of their progenitor's soul and their powers are sourced from there. Hence why Ossan, a pure manifestation of Ichigo's Quincy power, resembles Yhwach. Yhwach or Juha Bach is the son of the Soul King so it's stands to reason that Ossan would have something of the Soul King in him. Mikazuki as a fullbring arises from the piece of the Soul King. Ergo Muramasa sensed something similar about the both of them.

As for CFYOW, it's a worthy read and has potential as a movie or an OVA

PS: Ray, Ichigo having a piece of the Soul King and having the genetic makeup of all species, just like the Soul King himself... is interesting no?

Conclusion the Berry is God.

All hail the Berry

Not gonna lie I was pretty convinced for a good long while that Ichigo was gonna be crowned Soul King by the end of the manga.

[zabiume]

So, I noticed there aren’t many fics set in the little time period post-TYBW where Ichigo&co stay at the Shiba house, probably because normal fic writers are normal and do not obsess over that one tiny paragraph in CFYOW that talked about Ichigo and Orihime living together, but yeah. Set right after the war, and is canon until ch. 684 (until Yhwach’s ‘defeat’) after which it veers off course and into fluffy fanfic territory!

Written for @chickoochote, as a part of the IchiHime Fandom Exchange, and obviously thank you to @ichihimeisfuckingcanon for organizing! Hope you like it! :D

Read on AO3 | Read on ff.net

Death is everywhere.

Orihime feels the dull weight of it press onto her bones, draining the very life out of her. She’s bleeding in more places than one — after all, not even Rukia’s kido can work on wounds as fast-opening as hers— but she holds herself on her better ankle anyway. She feels it spiritually, rather than physically, the way her very energy is drawn in a dozen different directions at once, nowhere near enough to seep life back where it was lost.

And so there’s death. Opposite. Contrary.

The air twists. Suddenly, there’s a flash and Ichigo is there, right behind Renji and utterly battered. Orihime can’t remember what she says, whether the gust of relief she let out was an ‘Oh God’ or ‘you’re okay’ or even something coherent at all.

Thankfully, Rukia beats her to it.

“Ichigo,” she says, forthright and sharp, “Is he—”

“Yeah.” He sounds bone-tired and it hurts so much to see him standing there, tattered and exhausted. Somewhere along the horizon, the sun starts to dip and it turns his eyes to embers as they look past everything to meet hers. “I think we got him.”

Relief tastes bitter in the silence that follows.

…

Ichigo would say in earnest that they never tried to make a habit of it. It’s just something that happened. They’d been designated to the Shiba house at the time, a modest little place with narrow corridors that snaked up and down the house. The first night, it hadn’t even been intentional. It was just... something that happened. Forty-eight hours after fighting—and winning—a war, he could’ve honestly chalked it all up to a fever dream.

In the wake of the war, all the splintered parts of his life start to slowly piece themselves together. Him and Inoue are accounted for, and the last he heard, Uryu went back home with his dad.

“It’s the smarter thing to do,” Isshin says, when he senses Ichigo’s frustration at not being able to chew the nerd out for putting them through all that shit and then fucking off. “He’s safer in neutral territory, once they start combing out the grounds for survivors.”

Ichigo’s stomach twists enough to give him pause, and when he glances over his shoulder, it’s almost a relief to see Inoue wince too. Uryu’s done a lot of stupid shit, but they can always do the chewing out part of this later, he reckons. Inoue smiles like she agrees.

Rukia and Renji are okay, too, he learns. Chad manages to send a hell butterfly— “Ichigo, I’m okay” — and that’s about as much relief as he can expect from all camps there. Isshin pats both their heads goodnight and leaves, leaving him and Inoue in the hallway alone.

Inoue nudges past him to his own room.

“Inoue,” he calls out, “What—”

She turns, and his words die in his throat when she fixes him with a look that makes his skin warm and his spine shiver. She’s long changed out of her tattered clothes and into the cargo shorts she arrived in, but no amount of clothing can change the way blood dries at her forehead, hair matted with sweat, hands curled into fists at her side. Hands with jagged fingernails that were rough with dirt, rough with bruises from when she’d fallen to the ground and Yhwach had sneered like he knew.

“I’m going to heal you,” she says softly, but firmly.

A protest blooms at the tip of his tongue like a firecracker, almost in an instant. “You don’t have to—”

“Kurosaki-kun,” she interrupts, her eyes full of determination, but soft with understanding just the same. “I’m going to heal you.”

So he nods, rather numbly. Maybe he hadn’t realized it before but he realizes it now, how important it is for her to make sure he’s far behind the brink of death and not on the very edge of it, like he had once been. Like she had once seen him. She made a promise to herself — just as he did— and so it’s okay. He watches her nitpick around the room, fussing with the futon they laid out for him as he slings his zanpakuto over its shelf.

It probably should have occurred to him then that none of this domesticity was normal for them, that he should have done what was proper and seen her to her room at the first given opportunity, but he’d been so tired and she was there, dome full of warmth and security right above him, effectively blurring the rigid lines he’d unconsciously built for this situation in the first place.

“Thanks,” he mutters.

“There’s no need for that,” she replies sweetly, and a warm shudder ripples through her shield like she’s trying to pass on some of that comfort to him. His eyes flicker to where she's sitting, kneeling with her feet tucked under her thighs, and he feels the sudden urge to cry.

“Stop,” he rasps, almost halfway getting up, only to run into the obstruction of the shield. “Inoue—I can’t.”

Can’t breathe. Can’t think. The air is still so thick with Yhwach’s spiritual energy, and to think that there’s a future out there where they didn’t make it—where everything had crumbled to dust...it’s enough to make him want to throw up with reflux.

“Can’t what?” Inoue asks, confused. She tilts her head until they are eye to eye through the translucence of her shield. “Kurosaki-kun?”

“I can’t do this,” he says, wiping off the excess sweat from his mouth with his sleeve. He feels sick with dread, and the last thing she needed was to see him like this. “You—you should go. Get some rest.” He makes to get up again, but her shield is still intact. He doesn’t meet her eyes, but he grits out a soft, “Inoue.”

Her hand hesitantly swims through her shield and curls around his wrist, pushing it down gently to his side. It’s a ‘no,’ even though she didn’t say anything.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, but it isn’t and she must know that or she wouldn’t insist on staying. “Please. Just let me heal you, okay?”

He does. He watches from the corner of his eye, how her shoulders curled in on themselves, and the way her threadbare hoodie hugs her a size too small, like all the warmth in the world has composited itself in her. It’s a ridiculous amount for a single person to emit, and sometimes it used to hurt to look at her but it doesn’t anymore and he doesn’t know what that means except for that this is Inoue and, really, there has never been anyone as warm as Inoue. Eventually, she meets his eyes and smiles and he thinks, later, that that’s the last thing he sees before he drifts asleep right there—underneath her dome.

If that means anything at all.

The next time he wakes up, it takes a minute for him to realize where he is— to realize she’s fallen asleep too, her head curled into her body like a question mark beside his shoulder. Her shield has long dissipated back into her pins, leaving the room devoid of the thrumming that sent him to sleep in the first place. And Inoue — he gulps.

They aren’t touching — he realizes with immediate relief — but the whisper of heat from her body is close enough for him to realize this is far too inappropriate, and his heart thunders with a roar at the realization.

“Inoue,” he whispers, tactless, as he prods her shoulder sharply. “Wake up.”

She murmurs, rolling her shoulder away from his fingers. He prods again, his body slowly jolting alert when he realizes the predicament they’re in. The fact that his family is prone to pairing their wake-up calls with theatrics does not help and neither does the fact that his dad now shares a roof with his...Ganju.

The mental image is not satisfying.

“Inoue!”

“Wahh, Kurosaki-kun, I’m so tired,” she mumbles sleepily, swatting his prodding hand away with an aim that’s quite off its mark. His hand hangs suspended in its mission and his face softens. Well. There’s that, too. His face fills with heat, but it all shrinks into his cheeks when he notices the pale rings beneath her eyes, the tired way her hand loosely curls into the floorboard below. He shifts around and throws the comforter over her body until it covers her more than it does him.

Then, he rolls over and tries not to think about the warmth of her breath on the back of his neck.

…

(Inoue doesn’t wake up beside him in the morning and the only indication that it even happened at all is the faint blush on her cheeks when he smiles at her during breakfast).

…

They end up in his room again, somehow. He and Chad had eaten dinner here, and she’d stopped by to see them after a long day of helping the Fourth. This time, she’s wide awake but looks so tired that he doesn’t really say anything when Chad leaves but she stays behind. Doesn’t say anything when Kukaku blows out the lights outside and drowns them in a quiet darkness either. Her silhouette glows faintly against the moonlight that filters in and Ichigo isn’t surprised at all that there is not a single sharp edge in her body.

Still, even so. There are boundaries here and he respects her greatly, so when she begins to stretch and yawn like a cat before flopping right onto the floor beside him, his heart leaps to his throat.

“Inoue—” he begins, sweating nervously. “What are we doing?’

She rolls on her belly, resting her cheek flush against the floor. “We’re sleeping,” she says, matter-of-factly. “Is that okay, Kurosaki-kun?”

His chest heaves because yeah, it’s okay that they’re sleeping but they’re also sleeping together, which is not something he’s ever done with anyone before. Hell, even Rukia, during the old days, was stuffed into the closet and pretty much nonexistent until she decided to read her shoujo out loud at like, three in the morning. This—it’s different.

His eyes cross over to where she is, and to his surprise, her eyes are open. Tired as she is, it’s like she’s waiting for his green signal before deciding whether she wants to sleep here or not. This in itself does things to his stomach, the matter of being given a choice in things often quite foreign to him, but he doesn’t dwell on it too much. Just shifts in his futon until he’s at the very edge, leaving at least four feet of space beside him.

It is a large futon.

“Not gonna leave you on the floor,” he grumbles, because he knows she’s watching his back curiously, brows furrowed like she’s trying to figure him out. She’s probably not going to have a lot of luck; he doesn’t understand himself sometimes, right now being one of them.

She hesitates before she slides in and his heartbeat is a hummingbird’s wing against his chest, faint and fluttery.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, and his breath evens out despite itself.

Inoue makes sure to stick to her end, a vast gulf of space between them. Logically, they probably don’t have to spread this wide apart, but it brings comfort to his mind that he’s not going to do anything accidentally inappropriate if he’s this far away from her. He — there are boundaries here, even if they’re vastly disappearing between the susurrus of his sighs and hers.

“Kurosaki-kun,” she says softly, “I’m glad we’re okay.”

“Yeah.” He swallows. “Me too.”

“Do you...do you think he’ll be back?”

Ichigo doesn’t want to think, so he clenches his fist in the sheets. Somewhere behind him, he can feel her shifting and the movement itself is familiar, a whisper of a reminder that he isn't alone.

“If he does, we’ll be ready,” he says eventually, after a long beat of silence, surprised he means it. The ‘ready’ part, but also the ‘we’ part, if he’s being honest with himself.

“You’re right,” she says, and he can hear the smile in her voice. It’s taken a while for them to get here, to get to a point where he’s willing to swallow back his fear and take her with him where he goes. And he knows it makes her happy, even if he sometimes loses sleep over all the possibilities that would have panned out if either one of them hadn’t made it.

"Kurosaki-kun," she says again.

"Hmm?"

"What do you think would happen if the world ended right now? At this very moment?"

We'd be sleeping. Together, he thinks.

"We'd die," he says instead.

She huffs. "That's such a boring answer."

He grins. "Inoue."

"Hmm?"

"Go to sleep."

"Aye Aye, Captain Kurosaki!"

Ichigo snorts, and he can't see her but he hears the pillow ruffle and he knows she's saluting his back. The words leave his mouth before he can think them through. "Please. Call me Ichigo, Captain Kurosaki was my father."

She giggles, and it's the closest they come to admitting that they've been through a war together, but still cannot bring themselves to call the other's given name. He's used to it, is the thing—used to this place he's given himself behind boundaries. He doesn't know who he'd be without it. But here, where the walls come down and Orihime's honey-sweet scent wafts across the room, he wonders if that would really be a bad thing.

Eventually, Ichigo falls asleep, his dreams taking him back to destroyed columns of the Royal Realm. It's cold and there's the weight of everyone's hopes on his shoulders as he wades through the mist. He can feel Renji beside him, the decisive sounds of their footsteps echoing as they march forward. It's perpetual motion, this fight, and it keeps him moving and moving until there's an opening—some kind of loophole he can exploit so they can all go home.

"Ichigo," Renji is saying, but there's a low thrumming sound that starts to fill his ears and he has to strain to listen.

Ichigo, Ichigo, Ichigo.

His heart thunders, trying to claw its way out to whoever's calling his name. He grabs at nothing, tries to decipher who it is.

Ichigo, Ichigo, Ichigo— the staccato grows and it chants his name until the footsteps, their heavy breathing, the whistle of the wind, all turn to the repeated choruses of his name.

saveus, it howls. helphelphelp.

He snaps his eyes open sharply, unsurprised to find his cheeks warm and wet with tears. Inoue's hand is on his face, even though his back is to her, and if he was half-alright, he would have been embarrassed. Right now, however, her sloppy thumb rubbing his ear anchors him to the moment. Her hand drags down from his face to his neck before curling into a fist at his back — a slow chain reaction that blooms warmth under her clumsy touch and has him chanting the time's tables in his head.

This—this isn't something they do, and he's aware of that, but it distracts him enough from his nightmare, so he focuses on his 'eight times three equals twenty-four' and not how nice it feels to be burrowed by Inoue's soft body.

And, by virtue of thinking about something by trying hard not to think about it, he sometimes thinks about that too.

…

It doesn't happen every night — which is mostly how he justifies it to himself — and they almost never touch. Or at least, he never touches her. Inoue is an unconscious sleeper, and the times they do sleep together, he sometimes wakes up with her hair in his mouth or her hard head jabbing his kidneys. How she manages to get there is beyond him, but she does, and it sometimes wakes him up from whatever nightmare—memory—he's stuck in.

Once, he wakes up before she manages to slip out of his room, and he watches as her hair forms little whorls where they fan out, her pink mouth puffing deep breaths as she snores. He watches how her eyelashes feather the tops of her cheeks and how her small hands always form fists and wonders why his heart feel bruised and healed at the same time. There’s an answer there, somewhere, but he’s too tired and too burnt-out to go looking for it when he could stay right here and look at her instead.

And sneaking out—that has to be the worst part, because no one knows about this, and that alone makes it feel wrong in the morning when it had felt so right only the night before. Chad asks him one day, when they're out picking seeds for Ganju's boars, if anything has changed between him and Inoue.

"What do you mean?" Ichigo asks, ears pink and guilty.

"Just," Chad says vaguely, "if there's anything you want to talk about."

He thinks he wants to talk about how sometimes, he's so afraid that he wants to push her away, but sometimes he's so terrified that he wants to hold her closer, and neither of these feelings are comforting or disconcerting; they're just...there. He doesn't know what they mean or what to make of them.

But he never tells, and so Chad never asks again.

…

Eventually, he allows himself the acknowledgement that some nights, it brings him comfort. Most nights, if he’s being honest. All nights, if he admits to himself that he likes waking up to her—even if she’s never around when he really wakes up, or that they never really talk about it during the day. There’s something so comfortingly innocent about it, and he knows it’ll never stay that way if anyone else even catches a whisper of it. Inoue both blazes and soothes something inside of him, and he’s afraid of getting used to it — like the acknowledgement alone will snatch her away from him.

For now, he lets himself have this one thing without putting up a fight, and when he meets her at the branch of corridor between his room and hers that night, he braves himself to ask, “Ready for bed?”

She smiles.

Later, when he’s between the liminal brink of a dream and a nightmare, he feels her snake her arms around his abdomen, forehead pressed to the back of his neck, one small hand resting over his heart. He releases a contented sigh and shifts his own hand to keep it there.

It’s safe, he thinks.

He trusts her enough to protect it.

[bleachbleachbleach]

got any bleach fic recs? mayhaps ones that are shuhei focused? I'll read anything you guys recommend!!!

Tragically, it turns out that despite our mutual love of Hisagi, neither of us have read any Hisagi fanfic (unless it's in an "in which he fleetingly appears, similar to canon" sense)… I haven't even read CFYOW, unfortunately. I am overwhelmed by the amount of content Bleach fandom puts out, and I really haven't gone out searching beyond things that appear on my dash that are about like, my Top Blorbos. But everything I have chosen to read I have really enjoyed! Recently I've been reblogging/linking anything I've read under the bleach fanfic tag (which also has other random posts related to fanfic… but mostly recs of things I've read). Again, let me emphasize that I have not been a prolific reader, so this is not a massive rec list. But I *am* committed spending a lot of time with the things I do read!

What’s in that tag? I like reading things about Hitsugaya, Hinamori, Matsumoto, Byakuya, Rukia, and Renji. These things are generally in their standard combinations, but I wanted to highlight this fic about Byakuya and Hinamori, because any time characters interact well outside of their typical orbits is to be treasured. It’s set post-Soul Society arc and focuses on the ramifications of Aizen’s defection and Byakuya’s new orientation to absolute law: Firebird and Ashflower (Suite) by tsukara.

You will also find lots of What We Do with Our Hearts posts, which is a multi-chapter fic by polynya that includes all of the above characters in multiple combinations and Kuchiki galore. It will finish posting this week, so it’s a great time to get on that! (Hisagi is in chapters 4 and 12!)

—

I’m mostly just gonna echo what whipplefilter said above. Despite liking Bleach a whole ton, for some reason fanfic isn’t something that I go searching for. I’ll wholly recommend anything that’s in the bleach fanfic tag, and I’ve also super been enjoying What We Do with Our Hearts.

I’ll read just about anything that comes across my dash, but lol that’s a very small amount. That being said, for this ask I did specifically go looking for some Hisagi fic and uh… searching tags on AO3 was not as fruitful as I thought it would be, because Hisagi tends to show up a lot in fic, but he is not often depicted in the way that I like seeing. Even though I’ll read just about anything, I guess I tend to have fairly specific tastes when it comes to liking it.

However, in my search for fanfic, I did come across this piece, which I thought was a fun time! I really enjoyed the large ensemble cast and plays a lot with character interactions. In case you haven’t noticed, this is a genre we like very much over here at B3.

Lieutenant Exchange Day by chellerific

It’s an older fic, so I’m sure many of you have seen it before. But it was new to me, and Hisagi (as well as almost everyone else) is in it!

[misc-headcanons]

Working on a commission that largely involves fight scenes and I'm def excited to work on something so challenging. I don't write battle scenes very often, and trying to make things interesting while keeping the flow of the fight going has been fun; I keep having to stop and be like "Okay, so he's there and she's there, they're both moving like THIS...OK, how would it go from there"

I do that a lot with smut too, but fights feel different. They both have a little plot arc to them, but the climax of a lemon-y fic is a lot easier to pinpoint than the climax of a fight and there's a lot more you can do in terms of buildup.

I'm also reading the CFYOW light novels as inspiration since a) Ryohgo Narita is really good at fight scenes and that positioning I mentioned and b) Shuhei's a main character in that story AND this one 😚

[recurring-polynya]

About Madarame family again! Shino was angry that Ikkaku joined the gotei without telling her so she decided to join squad 11 too but failed, even after Ikkaku told her squad 11 is very tough for her, so she was sent to study at the Shin'ō academy and she hated that. That's all I have read about them in the novel if there's more I will tell you! :)

@njii-mood out here, doing the Good Work once more by supplying us with CFYOW: the Good Parts Edition. THANK YOOOOOUUUUU!!!!!

I know I have said this before, but hoooooowwwwww are there 0 Madarame Shino fanfics on AO3? This is amazing content, right here. (It is because you have to wade through 300 pages of Shuuhei thinking about tits to get to this? Perhaps)

I’ve actually being working on a Squad 11 fic lately, and literally just yesterday I was thinking about whether Ikkaku and Yumichika had gone to the Academy and I decided they didn’t. I’m sure Ikkaku would have done very poorly, but when you think about Yumichika and the level to which he utterly phones it in, I mean... what if he actually knew what he was doing? Surely this guy could do kidou, if he ever bothered to learn. Imagine it paired with his ridiculously overpowered shikai, sucking power out of people and then smashing someone else with some level 80 hadou. He’s only Fifth Seat because he “doesn’t like the character for 4″, this dude could definitely be a captain if he gave even a quarter of a shit. 

Do not mistake me, I absolutely respect Yumichika’s position on this. Nothing good happens to you when you are a shinigami captain. He completely runs Squad 11 from behind the scenes, does whatever he wants, and is unspeakably beautiful. Who wants to wear a tacky old haori anyway?

I wonder if Ikkaku feels a teensy bit bad about this, if it feeds into his decision to make Shino go to school, even a little. Imagine Shino coming over for dinner, all excited about some new shunpo theory thing she learned, and Yumichika is chatting with her about it like a smart person, and later, Ikkaku is like “I’m sorry you gave up the chance at an education to be with me” and Yumichika is like “darling, please, you know I hate work.”

Oh no oh no, I just imagined Shino asking Ikkaku for help with her homework and he’s like “okay, I’ll hook you up with my nerd friends” and then he sends her to Iba and Renji, and they’re all sitting there, trying to help her solve ghost calculus, I’m dying.

[byakkibreak]

I love that drawing with Byakuya and another noble. I'm not sure if you've ever read Spunky0ne's fanfics, but he so much reminds me of Orochi! You should totally draw MORE! ^_^ x_Aerynn_x

I’ve definitely heard the name Spunky0ne before but I don’t think I’ve ever read their fics - I’ll have to check them out at some point! Ye! The noble is Tokinada from Kubo’s short bleach spinoff CFYOW!!

[agallimaufryofoddments]

Update on Narita’s Health

I’m still not going to be able to do much tumblr related + fic related over the next several days but after the tweet I just saw from Narita I remembered I never posted an update here about his November 25 PSA tweet about his health. And...I thought I should at least take seven minutes right now to hurriedly update you guys on the status of his health, and then I’ll share the tweet I saw just minutes ago today:

November 25 Tweet

So, from what I understand (thanks to @toushindai for double-checking the tweet), the PET scan Narita got a while back revealed lymph nodes for which he needed surgery, and for a while he was seriously worried about lymphoma. I’m pleased to report that not only was the surgery successful, it confirmed that the tumor(s) were benign, and not malignant.

After explaining all that, Narita apologized because the recovery will slow down his writing process for the next few months.

Today’s Tweet (December 01, 2017)

Remember how Baccano! wasn’t the only Narita novel postponed? His anticipated Bleach novel was also delayed due to the health problems at the time... In the tweet linked above, Narita seems to be announcing that Volume II of his Bleach series “Can’t Fear Your Own World” is now releasing digitally as of Dec 1, followed by what I think is another explanation-apology about how the serious writing delay was the result of the poor health + hospital + surgery. 

(I’m very tentative about this next bit, but I...think he is also “very sorry” for the word count at present being less than the previous [novel]?)

The tweet is a follow-up of a retweet of the publisher’s promotional tweet for CFYOW II finally starting up again. I looked the publisher’s page and I think the novel will be released in installments bi-weekly on Fridays. 

So what does that mean for Baccano!’s 1935-E? I wonder. I guess it depends on how much work Narita will have to do re: CFYOW II as it releases. I’m not actually sure if this means he a) finished it in advance, b) written enough of a stockpile that he’ll have a buffer for the next few chapter releases, or c) he’ll be writing each new installment as he goes along. If I actually knew Japanese, I might have been able to pick up on more clues... 

(The reason I wonder if he’s writing it as it goes along is because he says 今の所 of the word count, and yomichan tells me this can mean something like “at the present time/currently/so far/for now/for the time being”). To me, that might imply that the “current installments” released so far aren’t as long as their Vol I counterparts...buuutt he hasn’t written all of it and the word count ‘could’ end up being longer.  

Since I, again, don’t actually know Japanese, someone else who does should/will need to get back to me on that. I’m probably not getting any of the nuance. 

Still, the fact that his new Bleach novel is finally publishing must mean that we’re inching closer to 1935-E...yeah? CFYOW II and Baccano! Vol 23 were basically his two really big on-the-horizon publications that were postponed. Fingers crossed he’ll tweet about Baccano! in the near future with info.

[misc-headcanons]

Hey, Misc! What about 26, 28, & 31 for the ask game? Hope you’re taking care of yourself!! ❤️

(Ty gerth! I'm doing well and I hope you are too 😘)

26. What’s your biggest distraction when writing?

Me wanting to check social media or watch/read something, the sound of people around me or talking to me I guess. My biggest distraction is probably myself most of the time lol. I'll want to watch a YouTube video, or check Tumblr or another site, watch something, etc.

28. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)?

I used to try and upload one to three requests a week, but it burned me out pretty quickly so I don't put any quotas on myself anymore. I just write when I feel like it, and I haven't gotten any complaints about my current level of posting so that's nice. I'm also pretty soft about deadlines and I don't pressure myself to update a fic. If it's a multichapter work, I can only really work on it if I feel like so a regular update schedule just wouldn't work with me. I also don't get many negative comments, and of the two or so asks they're both pretty tame. I try not to take myself too seriously and I'm just not that sensitive when it comes to people saying shit to/about me online 😅

31. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

FUCK THERE'S A LOT TO CHOOSE FROM, OKOKOK

So I mainly get requests for BNHA and OP, and my favorites from those groups are probably: Tomura, Hawks, Twice, Spinner, Bakugo, Compress, and Momo...Katakuri, Zoro, Robin, Bonney, Doflamingo, and Kid. Killer definitely grew on me; I started out with a bunch of requests about him and I was like "...oh, the guy with the mask in Kid's crew? OK, surprised he has this many fans" but over time I started to enjoy writing him more.

I've also enjoyed everything I've done for Bleach, and (hint hint) I wish more requests would involve some of those characters, among some other series I've only done a handful of requests for. Maybe it's because I just finished CFYOW but I just rediscovered my love for this Bleach and its characters all over again.

Also I don't take DRRR requests but I've written so much about Shizuo, I just love him so much lol

[zanguntsu]

hm do i read cfyow to write a fic.