"Hiyori!" That word echoed through his throat a thousand times. A myriad of emotions struck him all at once- grief, rage, desperation- and everything seemed to slow down. His mind was racing, trying to think of any way to stop the bleeding, to stop her from dying, and somewhere, behind all the chaos, was a little voice telling him he should have done away with that fox-faced brat the minute he joined the Gotei 13.

"Hacchi!" Shinji's head whipped toward his fellow vizard. If anyone could heal her, it would be him. All he was met with, though, was a regretful and rather dreadful look from the large kido expert. His right hand, which he had sealed onto Barrigan in their fight, was gone. He was, in every sense of the word, useless to the situation.

"That girl..." Shinji's teeth grit at the reminder of another, skilled healer. Orihime. But... "If only Orihime were here...she could heal you!" He wasn't sure who he was really talking to, since he doubted Hiyori was focusing on his words any longer.

"Ichigo!" Brown eyes turned up to the skies, though they saw no hero arriving to save the day. Not like he always did. "Can't you...can't you make it back, yet?" he shouted at the sky. When it gave no response, the desperation set in fully. "ICHIGO!"

The wind shifted just slightly, warning Shinji to a new presence. Golden blonde hair swayed loosely as he craned his neck to look behind him. The confident smile of a traitor flashed casually before everything went black.

"Ohhh. Fuck." Another low groan emitted itself from Shinji's throat before his eyes finally cracked open to pure, dull white. He was laying on something a lot softer than the ground he'd expected, and the first thing he noticed was that his hat was missing. "We were...where were we? Fighting...Aizen... Hiyori got mad, and then..." All of a sudden, Shinji's eyes snapped open fully and he sat straight up. "Hiyori!"

"Keep it down, ya dumbass!"

Slowly, wide-eyed, Shinji turned to see the small blonde leaning against a wall of the room he had been placed in. "Hiyori," he murmured lowly, "you're..." She was alright, but...how? The last he remembered, she was bleeding to death in his arms. Had it all been a dream? Even though the lavish furnishings around him told him there was no way he was in his own room.

That didn't really matter, though. Whatever had happened after he lost consciousness must have been a good thing. Ichigo must have made it in time. He must have brought Orihime. Aizen must be dead. They must have won.

"I'm fine," she filled in for him, sneering a little. "What the hell's wrong with you, Shinji? Ya thought I'd go down that easily?"

Relief quickly turned to frustration as the vizard leader narrowed his eyes in the younger one's direction. "It was your fault in the first place for letting him get to you!"

Hiyori's eye twitched slightly and she straightened up, pointing accusingly at Shinji. "It's your fault for setting a sentimental mood like that!"

"Sentimental? Who the hell would be sentimental in the middle of a fight, idiot?"

"You were!"

"You're just a hot-headed, snot-nosed punk that can't keep her cool for five seconds!"

"You're no better!"

"Oh, yeah?" Shinji challenged, pushing the covers aside and jumping from the (rather comfortable) bed. "Just watch me!" He turned on his heel and immediately headed toward the door. Though, a few steps and his progress halted as he finally took in his full surroundings.

The walls were white, but a sort of shade that held no light or pureness to it. The room itself was almost dim, despite the wide window off to the side; of course, that could have been just because it was nighttime outside. Turning back to Hiyori's small figure, Shinji frowned. "Where exactly are we?"

"Eh?" The girl wrinkled her nose before rolling her eyes in the other's direction. "We're home, idiot."

"Home..." That word sounded foreign enough. When had they really ever had a home in the past hundred years? An abandoned warehouse didn't normally qualify as a house. Then again, the vizard weren't exactly a standard family.

"Just go see for yourself," Hiyori told him, giving a yawn and jumping into the bed to claim it as her own.

"Hey!" Shinji went to object, but let it drop rather painlessly. He was still relieved beyond words that she wasn't dead.

Deciding to take her advice, he exited the room and found himself in a hall that could only be described as long and winding. In either direction there was nothing but white upon white and no indication of which way would take him to... wherever he was heading. He supposed that with no destination in mind, exploring his 'home' without direction would suffice.

"Jeez, at least I finally found another door." Not only were the halls long and monotonous, but there were a hell of a lot of them. How big was this place, anyway?

The set of double doors in front of him did little to settle his nerves, though. They looked foreboding, despite the light colors and intricate details. As if stepping through them would pass him through a gate he couldn't return past. Hesitantly, he placed his hands on the curved doorknobs and pushed the doors open to face whatever lay on the other side.

"So, you've finally come." That voice. That voice... "Welcome to Las Noches."

Aizen. Every inch of Shinji's body tensed, as if it were on fire, and his eyes widened to impossible proportions. Why was he here? Why was he on a fucking throne?

"Bastard," Shinji growled. All common sense thrown from his mind, he raced toward his former lieutenant, hand grasping at his zanpakuto's hilt. When his fingers reached nothing but air, his progress halted and his attention snapped to his side. Not only was his sword missing, but he realized, for the first time, that his clothes were not the ones he had been wearing before. A white hakama, white jacket with black trim, and matching sleeveless shirt underneath adorned his frame.

That's when everything clicked. The dull white of Las Noches' walls, the eternal night outside the window, and even his missing hat. Then, a sinking feeling filled his entire body, and the smirk on Aizen's face confirmed it. Ichigo hadn't made it on time. Aizen wasn't dead. They didn't win. Hiyori was gone, the image he had been arguing with earlier only placed there by Aizen's will and his zanpakuto's abilities.

Sinking slowly to his knees, head bowed in utter and hopeless defeat, Shinji's eyes glazed over with disappointment. In himself, his friends, his temporary comrades in the Gotei- whatever it was, he felt it undeniably and fully. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. This wasn't the ending he had imagined.

"Because it ain't a story," he told himself. "This is life, an' it ain't gonna change if I just wait around and hope and wish for it. Probably won't change, even if I try an' do somethin' about it." Feeling an imposing presence draw closer, Shinji raised his head to look up at Aizen. "Why?" he half-murmured, half-growled. "Why the hell did ya bring me here? Why ain't I dead?"

Calmly, assuredly, Aizen reached down and cupped Shinji's cheek lightly, their skin barely grazing. "I have other plans for you, Captain Hirako."

Take that whatever way you want. Enjoy those fantasies~