A/N: Okay. Guys. I'm back. After a zillion-month long hiatus that I didn't even warn you about. I AM SO SORRY. CAN YOU EVER FORGIVE ME. I had a really crappy time of it, too. But I'm out of that now, and I should be updating a lot more now. I AM SORRY I LIED AND TOLD YOU I WOULD UPDATE A LOT. But I am back. Really. Swear.

Because! The amazing AppleDoodle allowed me to adopt her fabulously amazing story! THANK HER VORACIOUSLY.

And here it is! The first chapter of Chaos Within, written by her, for your viewing pleasure!

Chapter 1

Wherever there is light, there is shadow

Darkness dwells in everything; every living soul

But as sure as the day turns to night

It is the darkness within the light that makes us human

Aizen sat up high on his chalky-white throne, looking down upon the trembling form before him. He was in a bad mood, and did not want to be disappointed.

"Your report?" he requested, referring to the highly important mission on which he had previously sent this quivering arrancar. He was a low level arrancar, with abilities far below that of an Espada, or even a Fraccion. Aizen couldn't even remember his name.

"Y-yes, Aizen-sama. I am sorry to inform you that we lost three men. We were ambushed, and highly outnumbered. I was the only survivor."

Aizen sighed. "And what of the artifact I requested you recover?"

The arrancar held out an ornate wooden box, decorated in strange, beautiful symbols.

"I was unable to check the contents, as the box is bound in an exceptionally strong kidou, specifically designed so that it can only be broken by a captain-level shinigami."

Aizen smiled. With a spell like that binding it, this was sure to be the thing he'd been searching for. He took the box from the arrancar, before placing it on the floor before Ichimaru Gin, signalling for the subordinate to do the honours. Gin happily obliged, drawing his zanpakutou and slicing down at the box, causing a flurry of golden sparks to cascade across the room as his blade met the invisible kidou shield.

There was a loud crack, followed by a sound like that of fragments of glass tinkling to the floor, echoed throughout the otherwise silent hall. The protective shield had been destroyed, and Aizen was now free to retrieve the box's contents.

He carefully lifted the lid and peered inside.

The box was empty except for a small vial, about the size of Aizen's thumb, filled with an inky black liquid.

"Excellent," he said. "Now we may begin an important phase of my plan."

Soul Society was in a state of temporary peace. Temporary, because the traitor Aizen was still very much at large, far away in Hueco Mundo, but his absence left a mild peace none the less. It was during that false peace, in the shade of an old sakura tree, that Captain Kyouraku sat lost in his thoughts. He stared up at the tree, watching intently as the final blossom fell gently to the ground, fluttering in both graceful peace and beauty. The season for cherry blossoms was long over, and now even that one small flower, just now clinging so desperately to existence, had fallen to join its comrades down below.

Everything falls.

Everything dies.

He sighed, and turned his attention to the clear blue sky above. Spring would come again. Spring always came again.

Hitsugaya Toushiro was a tidy person by nature. He liked order. It helped him gather his thoughts and organise for the future. This did not, however, mean that he enjoyed cleaning up after other peoples' mess. The person in question who was most likely to leave a trail of untidiness and disorder before him was of course his own fukutaicho, Matsumoto Rangiku.

It had become a routine of sorts for the two of them, that Hitsugaya would arrive in the office perfectly on time, if not a few minutes earlier, and neatly begin to complete that day's paperwork on his own in silence. Matsumoto would then break the silence by stumbling in to work at least two hours late, bottle of sake already in hand, gushing about how 'wasted' she'd gotten the night before. Her captain would promptly yell at her for being so late, and she would reply with asking him to be quieter, as her head hurt due to the killer hangover she had.

Yes, this was a vaguely peaceful time, as far as wars go, but death-threats could often be heard spewing from the tenth-division headquarters, as conversations such as this occurred:

"Get off your lazy butt and do some paperwork right this instant, or I'll bankai your ass!"

"Aw, taicho, 'bankai' isn't a verb. It's a noun. Honestly, I would have thought doing all that paperwork every day would have improved your grammar."

"Matsumoto!"

These days, life was peaceful. Arguing was just how the tenth squad spent their time.

But hidden behind this peaceful façade, chaos was lurking in the shadows.

A/N: Review this, then thank her. THANK HER HARD