Well, this is a story concept that I've been throwing around for a while, so tell me what you think.

Chapter One

The festivities outside were getting louder. You could hear the young ones celebrating from the other side of the wall, even if they had lost sight of why it was they were celebrating. Nowadays, people just put on fake hollow masks and ran around while fireworks went off on "Hollow Day." Flirting teenage boys would get bolder now than on any other day (personally, he thought it was because of the masks), and many of them woke the next morning to find that they were men. Fortunately, dead people can't have babies, so pregnancy never has been and never will be a problem.

The cheers increased as the fireworks reached their climax, and the oohs and ahhs were so loud they felt almost palpable. Sake was passed around as older, more experienced shinigami showed the trainees from the academy Hollow battle scars and listened to warriors like Kenpachi, Shunsui, and even Jushiro brag of monstrous battles where escaping was impossible and survival had been a fools dream.

The excitement was high in several areas, as nearly every division held an exhibition tournament, which raked in funds every year on gambling. Fifth seats and above were not allowed to participate, and in the lower ranks there began to be a blurring of skills, so it was not uncommon to have an upset such as a 20th seat beating a 6th seat, though the most impressive so far was having unseated shinigami Rukia Kuchiki beat 8th seat Nouta Bokame. The tournaments actually had a deep root in history, because on this day it was decided by the victor who was the most useful in a fight. Now it had degraded into a simple tournament to show off new moves that one had learned.

Yamamoto scoffed behind his glass window as he looked at the deplorable scene below him. They do not even remember the reason for the celebration anymore, let alone the hollow masks. They do not remember the honored shinigami who fought for their lives on the endless plain of desolation that was and is called Hueco Mundo. Not many lived through that battle, and the fifteen who did are now dead. The only one who remembers them and their brave stand now, is Yamamoto. But he dare not tell anyone. The panic would be horrible, uncontrollable. And there was always the chance of spies. Always.

The power was growing. He could feel it deep within himself, in the sixth sense of his sixth sense. It warned him by the tightening in his chest, by the shortness in his breath, by the twisting in his gut. These signs told him 'Look out, it's coming. Trust no one. You are by yourself in this battle. Stop it, before all is consumed.' He simply couldn't let that happen. He would resist it any and every chance he got.

But the way things were going, the chances were rapidly vanishing. It all started when the Central 46 began to lean towards corruption. Suddenly he found himself unable to leave the Seireitei for fear of them seizing control in his absence. Then came the spies.

The first spy was very skilled, although she hid her abilities wisely, in order to not give away her position. Still, she couldn't help but appear a little strong, and had attained a 3rd rank seat by the time he noticed her. Still, her presence was not completely unprofitable, as it had made him find a single ally throughout this mess, someone on which he could fully rely.

He discovered this man as an ally shortly after the death of the spy, Miyako, and her husband, Kaien Shiba. While investigating the cause of Kaien's death, Yamamoto found where that hollow came from, or rather, who sent it. More importantly, Yamamoto had discovered why it had been sent. Kaien's death, it turns out, had been an unfortunate accident, one that made the hollow's creator very sad. He had liked Shiba.

Speaking of which, he was now seated behind Yamamoto, looking mournfully at an old picture of Shiba. "Why did that happen, Yamamoto?" the man asked, as though the near-omnipotent general of Soul Society actually knew the answer to that question. Regardless, Yamamoto responded.

"A necessary evil, I must say. Incredibly unfortunate, he was a genius. Would have made a teriffic captain, maybe even taken my job one day. No point in mourning now, we have no choice but to move foreward." Yamamoto turned from looking out the window at a drunk (as usual) Shunsui to face his last ally in the entire Soul Society. The old man smiled sadly at him, then adopted the stone-like face that he always had. "But we must move quickly. It is gaining on us, rapidly growing deep below were he was locked away. You have your orders. Carry them out as fully as you can."

The other man just stared at the ground. "What if that's not enough, old friend," he said softly, "what if my strength is not enough? I was not able to save one man who trusted me completely. I should have-"

"It's in the past now," said Yamamoto sharply. "You cannot change the past, no matter how you try. If anyone could, it'd be Kisuke, and we know he can't, otherwise, he'd change that."

"I've never had the chance to ask him, how exactly does he know?"

"Same as us, his master was one of the fifteen. Trouble is, he went crazy halfway though the training, so now Urahara-san is just a little bit crazy himself. Though it may just be how he is, no blame cast to anyone. No denying the facts though. None are crazy enough to sleep with a killer minx like Shihouin except for him."

The man smiled from his position in the shadows. It was refreshing to learn that one's master had a sense of humor. It made him seem more human. "And besides, you are without a doubt the strongest warrior in the entire court guard," Yamamoto continued. "Complete mastery in every area is no mean feat! You are the best man for this job."

The man rose from his seat and shuffled to the door. As he put his hand on the door to open it, he tensed his fingers against the smooth paper. "There is one thing I wished to ask you sir, if I may."

"Of course," said Yamamoto, already back to watching the (surprisingly) drunk Jushiro perform a drunk dance with a (also surprisingly) blushing Retsu Unohana.

"May I take some companions with me?" the man questioned, also not bothering to turn around. "I have two men that I trust completely, if you could allow them to accompany me, I believe it will go smoother."

"Just don't tell them the whole story if you can't help it. It doesn't matter who you're taking, I don't trust them. I will handle any problems, just follow the plan"

"Thank you sir," said the man, "and good luck." The light flashed on his glasses as he turned to bow before he left.

"And good luck to you as well, Aizen." muttered Yamamoto. "Kami knows you'll need it."