(This, my first Bleach fic, involves a couple of wild theories that I came up with after staying up waaay too late watching Bleach Beat Collection vids. And it's all the fault of the marvelous lj roleplayers who drew me into the fandom. -grins-)
A Matter of Corroboration
"Did you ever wonder," sneered the traitor, "how I knew so much about the human world?"
Skidding backwards through the air, Ichigo Kurosaki gritted his teeth and somehow managed not to fall over. He had no idea how long they'd been fighting this time -- everything had gotten fuzzy somehow, and it was maddening that Aizen, a figure blurred as if shielded by a deepening haze, seemed as cruel and collected as ever.
He forced himself to focus. "I have better things to do," he shot back, "than to wonder about you." And certainly no time to indulge the universal imperative that drives villains to gloat.
Aizen's smile widened: the smile that had lulled the entire Soul Society into a deadly illusion of peace.
"Your mother," he commented, "was a beautiful woman."
Ichigo forgot to breathe.
"So beautiful -- and yet her kindness surpassed her beauty. Everything she touched burst into bloom." Aizen took a step forward, his head tilted as though to gauge the effect of his words. "You never knew, of course; she died before you could be told. Yes, Ichigo. She was a shinigami, like you and like me."
The foggy curtain thickened. It was impossible -- unreal -- maybe a hallucination? Blood loss? He couldn't really be standing here and listening to the Soul Society's worst enemy randomly start praising his mother--
"Oh yes," chuckled Aizen. "Did you never wonder where you got it? How she knew what kind of danger you were in when you scampered off after the lure of the Grand Fisher? When I think how she fell into the human world, whom she took up with, what she left behind..."
Ichigo hardly realized he was moving. His hands felt dull and powerless, his sandals slipping against thin air, but somehow his sword was in Aizen's face, scarcely blocked by the other man's blade.
"You," he growled. "Shut up about my parents! I bet she would have known what kind of monster you were. In fact, if she ever was in Seireitei, that's probably why she left!"
"Oh," crooned Aizen, "but I have as much right to talk about dear Masaki as you have. After all, I knew her long before you were born."
"Don't call her that," snarled Ichigo.
"It shouldn't be such a surprise. There are even some physical similarities --the eyes, the hair -- don't tell me you never even wondered! Perhaps you are as dense as they say, but then, you take after your father, so..."
"Shut up--"
"..Still, it doesn't matter. She lives in you -- her spirit, her determination. And you know in your heart that our fates are intertwined." He leaned in close. "You, Ichigo--" his expression twisted in a ghastly parody of affection -- "are my sister's son."
"Noooooo!" A couple of polka-dotted starfish floated by, spinning gently as they drifted, but Ichigo had no attention to spare for them now. His mother, his gentle, beautiful mother, and -- no way--
"Yes!" crowed Aizen, his voice breaking on a maniacal cackle. "And I did it all for you -- the conquering, the destruction -- so that someday you and I can rule all these worlds side by side!"
Speechless with horror, Ichigo staggered backward, collided against something solid, and, gasping in shock, looked wildly up into the dark implacable face of the spirit of Zangetsu... who pinned him with a steady stare and then delivered a powerful backhanded slap that knocked him into next week.
And then he woke up.
(o.O)
Later, after he'd finished cursing and put on a band-aid where he'd scraped his knee falling out of bed, he had to admit that he wasn't particularly surprised. He really should have known better; but then, it wouldn't be the last time that the old man saved his life.
--
