Disclaimer: You know the drill - I don't own Bleach.
A/N: I wrote this not long after Christmas, and it's kind of rushed, but I think it's still decent enough to post up. This whole situation has probably been written to death already but here you go.. My quick fic on the subject. xD; Enjoy!
Snake
"I'm a snake. With cold skin, no emotions, that slithers around searching for prey with its tongue, swallowing down whatever looks tasty."
A snake.
Yes, he was a snake.
Cold-blooded and sinuate extreme, winding through life with a very presence that made grown men shiver. Piercing and serpentine in disposition, chilled rancour, and treachery dripping off a forked tongue that strangled with words alone.
He even had the poison, could spot an opportunity from a mile away and wait.. wait for the exact moment to strike; patience... then straight for the jugular.
Quick and fast.
..But it hadn't worked.
It hadn't worked.
He was a snake, but snakes kept their fangs sunken into their prey, even as the poison did its work and every cell was being destroyed..
Snakes made sure their prey was dead.
It should've been over.
Snakes didn't leave openings.
He was a snake, but something so cold-blooded wasn't prone to bouts of pity (cut in two, but he could've aimed for her head). Or annoyance (he knew she was easily scared, but why should she accept her execution when there were far better ways to die?). Or confusion. Snakes didn't get surprised, or sad either.
They certainly didn't have a heart. A snake would have swallowed theirs (if it had ever existed in the first place), while he had instead given his to the woman who was busy breaking it.
A terrible scream.
The pain.
The tears, drip drip dripping like acid to his soul.
Then again, he'd done his fair share of shattering in return. I'm sorry, Rangiku. Again. But at least he'd got to say it once.
It marked another difference between him and a real snake.
..Though what did it matter?
The truth was (blunt and jagged and far more piercing than he'd found any lie to be), he really was a snake, of sorts. He was meant to be. Everything cast aside, everything pushed away. Blood chilled as best he could, a smile pasted on to disturb everyone first. Intimidation was the best defence, no matter if you could barely look at the world for fear of what you might see. Become as a snake. Show no weaknesses (perfection wasn't necessary, if you kept up the façade).
Whatever necessity demanded, he had sacrificed.
But it hadn't been enough.
He was a snake.
Yes, he had been a snake.
But perhaps Aizen had been too big and fat a prey for Ichimaru Gin to swallow?
..It wasn't important now. He might as well just face the facts – snake or no.
He had failed. And failure meant death.
End of story.
