Author's note: Dear Reader, as I'm writing, only chapter 592 has been published in Japan. I've waited a lot before starting to seriously write and publish my fics, hoping that Mayuri would get killed quickly, so I could write (and draw) all the fanwork I wanted without straying too much from the Canon. But no, the series is going slower than ever and I'm tired of waiting.
So here we are.
If you feel like, come and visit my DA profile page for the illustrations that I'll be uploading for this fic and for the other ones that will come.
PS: I'm not English mother tongue. I'm Italian and my language has a sentence structure much heavier than English. Moreover I feel I'm a bit rusty with phrases, punctuation, particles and collocations. So if you could be so kind to point out my mistakes, I'd be really thankful.
Foreword: End of the Thousand Years Bloody War.
Somehow our despicable scientist and captain survived. He should have been killed, but he's still alive. After the War, the remaining Shinigami decide to punish Kurotsuchi for his past deeds (especially the little "cleaning" in Rukongai in order to keep the world from not falling apart). He should be executed, but our great hero Ichigo Kurosaki decides, we don't know why, to spare Mayuri's life and throw him in jail for the rest of eternity.
I'm hinting that Mayuri has been twice guilty of Masaki's death (in the living world and in the Spirit world, in the XII division labs) and Ichigo is holding an unimaginable rancour towards the captain. But our hero is able to overcome, or better, rationally exploit his darker side(s) and give Mayuri a punishment which looks much humane from an external p.o.v., but is the worst sentence ever in the captain's eyes.
Character: Mayuri centric ficlet. Only one character
Pairings: No pairings.
Rating: Rated T for a jailed killer brooding about his past.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.
Enjoy.
Bluepoisonlily
Jailed
After all those years, there he was: back in jail. Stripped of everything he had, everything he was. Back where he had started. A different prison, yet the same.
The room was bigger. It had a proper bath with a decent toilet (at least he could sit down and not crouch like an animal) and a shower. There was a proper bed, or at least, a mattress and some blankets thrown over his usual bench (which was still bigger, though).
No chain on his ankle. No inmate uniform. Because he was the only one there.
His life had been spared. He should have been executed once the war had ended, not before a good torture session, he was sure. Yet he was still there, alive. But with nothing left, except his wicked life and his wild mind. After all, even though the others had seen this as a sign of mercy, it had been a merciless punishment.
The other time was really different. He was nothing, he had nothing, he had no future before him. Nothing to regret, nothing to hope, nothing to dream. But now… The difference between his first imprisonment and this one wasn't what lay before him, but what he had left behind him. A shining past lay behind his shoulders and restlessly taunted and tormented him. It never stopped. Not while he was awake, for his mind kept wandering back to his century of power and light. Not while he was trying to sleep, as nightmares of past deeds, voices, bodies, smells, sounds and feelings never left him, not once.
Locked away from anyone else. With nothing but a deteriorating mind. Forgotten by everyone, while the Other had all the glory, even the one HE rightfully deserved.
There was eternity before him. An eternity of nothing.
And then, in that lonelyness and nothingness, regret struck him.
He regretted not killing his Master whenever he had the chance. He regretted not having acted even more selfishly, ensuring his survival… in a better way. He regretted growing up his adoptive son, making him just second to himself and paving his way to captaincy. He regretted letting his heart soften a bit towards some people who had crossed his path. He regretted playing like a cat with his preys (and not killing them when he had the chance).
And then, his regret changed its shape and direction. He realized he had been a fool. A fool that modified his body in order to live and be young forever. He had the arrogance to think that he could foresee how things would have developed. He would have been immortal and young until someone (and he was sure that someone had Quincy blood) would put an end to his existence. He was sure that his life would end during the final part of the war, that "The Honour of the Quincies" would be the cause of his death. And yet he was wrong. An honourable and heroic mongrel spared his life, even though he had sworn "I'll never forgive nor forget". And then he was thrown there, for eternity.
Slowly, he could feel something that had not happened before.
He felt himself slipping away.
Yes, back then he had lost his sanity, but it wasn't like this. He was losing his very self. And he was scared. But not only scared. For the very first time of his life, that horrible feeling he had always encountered during his sleep and quickly pushed back into oblivion whenever he woke up, that terrible, crushing, oppressive, unbearable, feeling came to him in full force, grasped him in his claws and clamped down on him with no intention of letting go.
Desperation. That was its name.
And with desperation, the moment he acknowledged its presence, he knew he had crossed the line of no return.
Final AN:
I do hope that with this fic even some M-bashers might be happy.
Btw, if you haven't recognized them:
The Other : Urahara Kisuke
The adoptive son: Akon
From the Author, to you:
I want to congratulate you for enduring till the end of the fic, dear Reader. Thank you for your time.
If you feel like, please leave me a review, but I beg you, don't flame. Flames hurt.
Bluepoisonlily