Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.
Dancing With Strangers
It's a simple enough observation, attributed to her person based solely upon who she is and how she behaves. She's a healer, therefore she must be gentle and merciful on all fronts. He'd thought the same, having been just as easily blinded by a shell, a seamless mask. He hadn't been the only fool in this. The rest of them had bought right into yet another hapless stereotype as well.
The discovery, that of another half, had been a mistake. And, as the rule of sin goes, it's very much impossible to back away on one's own. And sins like this, as he knew, didn't just happen on their own. A shame, and again not, that he can't be the exception to that universal principle.
A shame that, even with a witness, no one will believe that it's just a front.
If the whole picture were laid out for them, explained in it's simplest terms, maybe they could. But he's not sure he wants them to understand, to believe. They don't see the way she fights him, let alone what she leaves behind. If they could, it would be passed off as another one of his experiments, which is true enough. He does use her for that purpose, as another testament of will. One that, despite being the driving force behind it, he fails.
Really, she shouldn't hold any interest for him. She's just another incredibly well-rounded being with an impossible amount of tolerance. It bothers him, not understanding exactly what she is and why. He doesn't know what it is that draws him in, how it came to be something more than a game. He can't explain it.
But words, his insightful explanations, mean nothing anymore.
She's burned them all with fire.