TO BE A TRAITOR

A Bleach Romance Fan-Fiction

A/N: Sorry to all those reading this, I love making characters for Kenpachi to get together with and I just hope you can forgive me for making another one. This one just really stuck in my head, and yes its a Romance one again. But this time I'm focusing on an evil character's point of view - though its your choice as a reader whether she really is evil or not. :D

Prologue: Dreams Are Wishes & Heart-Aches

"I don't want to fight you again... But I will have to if you try and stop me!" I knew you'd felt my presence behind you, and at first it was not Who you were that was bothering me. I knew the sweet woman that had shown me the joys outside of battle, but now I smelt and saw the beast that had slaughtered a third squad captain. I saw the corpse pinned to a tree, split partially in half and left with a look of horror and agony on its face. Had you been a hollow, or even another Soul Reaper I would not have looked at you twice to make a killing. But to see your soft hands dripping with still fresh blood, to see the drying black flakes upon your jaw, and the look of burning hatred in your eyes - I did not know what you were.

"Why did you kill him? Makoto, we can sort this out if you just come back with me... I didn't want to scar you!" Your voice had been filled with sadness about facing me again, and verily I did not want to hurt you again. I knew I could talk to you; find out what had happened to make you kill someone. I knew you had no trouble punishing those deserving it, and if anyone ever tried to bother you, I know you would not hesitate to fight them. But you could have told me anything, if the captain had done something then you know I would have confronted him. I was angry at you, yes, that's why when I caught you before I had let myself hurt you... But I had regretted it!

"But you still did... You're not the only one to scar me, but yours hurts the worse. Now... Let me escape and I'll leave the Soul Society in peace." There was venom on your tongue now, and you rich red hair that had always been bound in a plait rolled in a biting wind - wild and unruly. I had to admit there was an irresistible attractiveness to it, but I could not understand why you were being so cruel. I would have loved to let you escape, but I could see your hands gripping your sword as I knew you would not hesitate to attack this time. I'm sorry I hurt you, I'm sorry I still had to hurt you.

"I can't do that..." You turned around finally, you faced me head on and I saw where tears had dried up and where blood dripped from holes in your lips. I saw that you'd sharpened your teeth to points in that cell, that you'd enjoyed doing terrible things to that captain before you'd finally been kind enough to end it without much pain. But I could see that the mercy remained in your eyes, though hardened. You were not going to come back with me, but you were not going to fight me...

"When did you ever care for this place? You hate it here more then I do!" I was scared of you then! The look of hatred in your eyes made me almost die. What was I to do? You knew me… But I thought I knew you too…

"It's my duty to hand you in..." I choked on those words; I might as well have pretended to be a Kuchiki or Ukitake with that kind of phrase. But you saw through it, you knew I was trying to help you – trying to fix the problem between us.

"Duty? When did you ever care for duty?" You never believed that I really cared, did you? So… I guess you never cared either or you would have nodded then and not turned back away from me.

"Don't do this Makoto... Please just come back with -" Your sword went through the top of my chest and for a second I thought you had destroyed my heart. It would have been an appropriate gesture as you'd already betrayed it by using me as an alibi. Because of you, I've never been able to show myself ever again - nothing matters but blood and battle. I've closed off my mind and ripped out my own heart - because for some reason you missed it...

Kenpachi woke up with a start, sweat streaming of his head as it spun in circles. He had never forgotten that memory, but he had never replayed it in his mind - watching when he should have been acting it out. Maybe there was some reason he had wanted to remember it all the fuller. Or perhaps he needed to ask Unohana to repress it again.

The gentle sound of breathing beside him made him turn in terror. Was he back in that memory...? The earlier when the dagger of betrayal had been given?

No... Yachiru was curled up on top of his pillows looking as comfortable as a kitten, and Kenpachi thanked... well he thanked someone that she was there. If one person had been quick to understand and never speak of it again, it had been the strange little girl that had been the voice of so much reasoning. Sometimes he wondered why he'd stuck his neck out for her when they had been wandering, but each time he spotted that serene and innocent smile on her sleeping face he pushed the thoughts away.

A cool breeze filtered through the thin walls and rattled the vanity table, making the bells jingle somewhat ominously. Kenpachi instinctively sniffed the breeze. Maybe he was still reeling from the dream as he could smell fresh blood and that strange rose perfume that Makoto had always worn. An image flashed in his mind, the strange scar he'd given her with a mix of spiritual pressure and his zanpaktou. It had made a number like a five on the left side of her face, and with her eye ripped so the lower eyelid never moved and hung there, something about it looked like the number fifty. Kenpachi grabbed his head again, a fresher sweat dribbling against his long fingers as he gripped the ebony locks to try and punish his mind for memories. Something kept hitting him about that scar, about that number.

Fifty - 50 - Five and Zero - What did it mean?

Somewhere a cockerel cried out for the dawn and a weird awakening made Goosebumps stream up Kenpachi's body. His breathing quickened and he fought to control the pounding of his terrified heart. Why was he scared? Someone whispered in his head that fifty years had passed exactly since that night... Someone told him that revenge was patience... Something made him look toward the object of death and war that had refused to talk to him.

Death was calling him...