Disclaimer: I am not Kubo Tite, if that wasn't clear enough.

AN: For Miwa03 :)

one/une/ichii

::

"Here you are, down on your knees again/Trying to find air to breathe again"

All Around Me; Flyleaf

::

So this was how it was.

"Aizen-sama sees potential in you," the blank-faced man had said, handing her a business card. "If you wish Inoue-chan, Aizen-sama may also arrange for you to come into the country to start your…" he paused, silently trying to remember what it was that yet another one of these girls had "potential" in.

Starry-eyed, Orihime Inoue had snatched the card from his hand. "Singing!" She turned her innocent gaze on him. "Aizen-sama said he could get me a record deal! Isn't that great- Mr. Schiffer was it?" She trailed off, tapping her chin absentmindedly.

Ulquoirra Schiffer looked down at her, blinking slowly. Once upon a time, the naivety of these girls had filled him with guilt. Now, he could look at them with an empty heart. "Yes. Great."

There hadn't been anything great about it. A promise for fame and fortune filled Inoue's head as she sat on the plane, watching the green pastures of her rural home pass her by. She didn't say anything when she'd been promised entry to Japan without a passport, she put all her faith in this "Aizen-sama" the one who could "work wonders".

And then she'd ended up there: in that dark room, alone.

"You see, it is not that easy," Aizen-sama had explained to the row of idealistic girls lined up in his office. One by one, like dominoes, their bright smiles faded into oblivion. "It takes money for me to bring all of you here," he paused in front of one of the girls, cupping her chin in his hand, leering like a predator. "And before any of you can go anywhere, you're going to have to start making money for me."

"Money for you?" The girl next to Inoue asked nervously. "Doing what?"

Aizen's smile held innocence, but the glint in his eyes said otherwise. "Depending on the individual customer-" he paused, letting his 'subtle' choice of words sink in. "Not much."

Every once in a while, 'special' women got Aizen-sama's 'special' attention. As the doors to her room slid open slowly, Inoue realized with fear that her time had come.

"'Ay," the man who'd come to fetch her – must've been someone new, his spiked white hair and pale skin stood out in comparison to the rest of Aizen's men. "'Boss'" – his tone was derisive – "wants ya."

The man must have sensed her discomfort. Putting a hand on her back like he was helping her out of her isolation chamber, he muttered, "Don't worry about it, I've got this." A small smirk formed on his face, but disappeared just as quickly as it had come. She wondered for a moment if she had imagined it, but there was no time to ask about it, they reached the door to Aizen's office too soon.

Winking at her and putting a hand in his pocket, the man knocked on the door. Inoue stood quietly, looking down at her bare feet, trying to force herself to stay calm. Her throat was bone dry, and her eyes were stinging with the tears inevitably on their way.

"Come in." Aizen's disturbingly paternal voice floated from inside the office. It was plain and square and almost everything inside was white. The blinds were shut, a tiny bit of light shining through like stripes. He looked up from the papers he'd been shuffling, a calm smile spreading on his face. "Shiro, you may leave. I'll call you if I need anything." The brown-haired man's movements were fluid as he got up from behind his desk, taking his glasses off and pushing his hair out of his face.

Inoue let her eyes wander up from her feet, daring to look around. Aizen was smiling that fatherly smile, but the gleam in his eyes gave another impression. Trying to avoid his gaze, she turned away to look at Shiro, who was still hovering by her side. He brushed past her, closing the door without leaving the office.

Aizen's jaw tightened. "I said you may leave."

Shiro threw his head back and laughed, making Inoue jump. She turned to stare at him with wide eyes, wondering what was wrong with him. His laugh was high-pitched and loud, and practically cut through the air like a knife.

"Is there something funny-?" Aizen barely managed to finish his sentence before Shiro took his hand out of his pocket, holding out a pistol. Before the man even had time to react, He pulled the trigger, shooting Aizen in the torso.

Inoue screamed in panic as Aizen doubled over, collapsing to his knees. His dark eyes went wide. Blood seeped through his white button-down shirt, staining the blue of his blazer. His breathing went ragged as he struggled to look up, sending a murderous glare in Shiro's direction. "D-damn you!" His voice was a dark growl as he made a pathetic attempt to grab his own gun.

"Tch!" Shiro was over in moments, slamming his foot into Aizen's gut before he had the chance to even aim the pistol. "Where the fuck is it?" He spat, kicking Aizen once more. He took the sunglasses off, dropping them on the floor so that Aizen would be forced to look him in the eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Aizen gritted his teeth, holding on to his wound. The smirk on Shiro's face melted away, replaced by a shadowy scowl. He brought his foot back down on Aizen, stomping into his body like he was stomping out a cigarette. The injured man coughed out blood, staining the white carpet with sin. Another kick sent the pistol flying out of his shaking hands, skittering across the floor.

On an impulse, Inoue took a step forwards from the corner she'd been cowering in, grabbing the gun quickly.

Both men looked at her, distracted. Aizen lifted his head. "Kill him!" He yelled; his voice gruff and weak. Blood was now pouring from his mouth like water from a faucet.

"You're not dead yet?" Shiro growled, but stopped when Inoue raised the gun, putting a finger on the trigger.

"Do it! Now!"

Inoue squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop her hands from shaking. Her eyes stung with the tears she'd been holding back. The gun was small, but it felt like it weighed a ton as she tried to keep her aim steady.

"You can't do it," Shiro said, his voice soft for a moment. Inoue let her eyes meet his, and her breath caught in his throat. His eyes were strange to say the least, bright yellow irises and black where white should've been. It was like they stared through her soul, sensing her weakness. "Put it down," he smirked, taking a step forwards. "Woman-"

Inoue shook her head as fast as she could, like she could shield herself from the truth. Holding her breath, she pulled the trigger.

Aizen didn't even have the chance to shout – the bullet went right through his forehead, killing him instantly. He crumpled to the ground in a heap, eyes wide open. Inoue's body wracked as she choked out a sob, wondering how she could've brought herself to do it. But before she could move to try and kill Shiro to, he ran towards her, grabbing her wrists and pinning her against the door to the office.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?" He hissed, tightening his grip on her.

Before she could even try to get free, there was noise on the other side of the door. "Aizen-sama? It's Tousen." Shiro froze, dark eyes sliding towards the tinted window on the door. "Aizen-sama, we heard gunshots I called the po-"

"Shit!" Shiro let go of Inoue, moving over to Aizen's body. Tousen started jiggling the knob, still calling for Aizen, asking if everything was under control. "What're you doing over there? You killed him." He grabbed Aizen's arms, dragging him towards the window. Inoue, still shaken, walked over and grabbed his legs, Shiro's words buzzing around in her head.

You killed him.

Shiro opened the window wider, stepping out onto the fire escape. Inoue followed his every move, more focused on trying to breathe again. She didn't think she'd remember how. In one day, she'd gone from caged bird to murderer.