No, I don't own bleach or its characters. This is counted as 'Drabble' in my book, but I might change it into a multichapter fic...


There wasn't always another path.

There wasn't always a choice.

There wasn't always a chance to keep a secret a secret.

Now was one of those times.

He's once said that he'd rather died than showing people his true colours. But this was more important than his pride, more important, even than his position in his division.

If they lost this battle, there would be no more divisions.

Yumichika tightened his hold on his partially released Zanpakuto, battle raging around him. Two out of three of the traitorous ex-captains fighting, the third looking on, amused, as if they were children on his playground.

Gin Ichimaru had proclaimed his loyalty to Aizen in the middle of the fight: Matsumoto Rangiku would be the only one to ever hold his heart in her hands. There was unmistakable beauty in there, of the love only rarely seen.

Kaname Tousen fought, a blind man, though it could not be seen in his flawless technique against three captains. There was beauty there too, in the crimson dye covering his fatigued colleagues, the fire of war burning brightly in their determined gazes.

Ichigo Kurosaki, for all his power and skill, had long since been knocked out by Aizen, like a predator swatting away its prey. There was beauty in the natural order – yet it wasn't only pity he felt towards the teen. A protectiveness he couldn't place, the eyes like a raging inferno, to protect, to keep them from breaking, extinguishing.

Arrancar fought Shinigami, Shinigami fought Arrancar, the rhythm unbroken, save for the cries of the dying. Beautiful. But no beauty can last forever.

He refocuses his attention on the mastermind, the puppeteer playing all of them behind the scenes. There's no doubt in Yumichika's mind that this former man, this creature, Aizen Sousuke, has planned all of this long before it even happened. Maybe even before he joined his Captain, who was panting and laughing, blood flowing freely across the scars and fresh wounds adorning his ragged body as he slayed his enemies.

Yumichika's gaze saddens for a second. His proud, strong captain, might not make it to the end. Ikkaku had the chance of death too, perhaps even more. He could only hope for their wellbeing in this bloody, sickening symphony.

How he wished, prayed, pleaded the gods for another way.

How he hated the monster that threw them all into this ugly mess.

How the mighty have fallen. Yamamoto would have been able to aid them, if not lead them, against the threat. Too bad he left them not long ago, poisoned in his sleep. A sigh, the man did so much, yet so little, about Aizen until it was too late to avoid all-out brawling.

A war cry behind him, he turned swiftly, running the surprised Arrancar through with his newly-sealed blade. Without as much as blinking, his Zanpakuto slays its opponent.

Brown eyes lock with his, dark amusement and superiority mixed with slight confusion swirling inside them. Yumichika looks at him, seeking further. Ah. Wariness. He does not know his full capabilities, then. A small smile graces the fifth seats' face as he aligns his Zanpakuto with his body, long, bloodstained fingers tracing down the metal, as if caressing the blade, a single command on his pale lips:

"Split and Deviate, Ruri'iro Kujaku."


That's it for now. If I write more, I'll have to include a long A.N... I hate long A.N's...