I don't own Bleach or its characters. I don't know if you follow any of my other stories, but after a long hiatus, yes, I am back! I have previously thanked my loyal readers and believe me, my thanks now is just as deep to those of you who continue to like and support what I do. So please enjoy, and be patient with me. I may not crank these out weekly but I'm dedicated as ever to making sure I find time in my busy life to write!

Chapter 2

A brutal personality and lethally short temper contributed to my rise within the ranks of Espada. However, an utter lack of respect for authority halted me at rank 6. Thus, I became the Sexta Espada and was branded on the lower right side of my back. At the time, I couldn't have been more fucking proud of myself for rising out of the dirt to become part of something. I was brain washed into power and addicted to the thrill of the fight. It was all I lived for, to bust someone up, to feel the race of adrenaline in my bloodstream as it thrummed through my veins. I liked being able to decide just how fucked up I left someone if the orders were to leave them alive. I never thought twice about killing and was disappointed when the game was over, my victim's life-force drained out and their eyes lay open and unseeing.

Can I say I bought into Aizen's plans for world domination? Not really. I'm more intelligent than people credit me for. But I wasn't stupid enough to pass on the power he held and the power he granted me. After all, I did hold a sense of duty to him from pulling me from the miserable existence I had been in despite the monster he helped shape me into. I was going to ride the wave to the brink of crashing into the jagged shoreline and then abandon ship before Aizen fell on his own sword. Often I think about if I could go back and change my life, stop myself from joining Espada and meeting the piece of shit that was Sosuke Aizen, would I?

Not in a million lifetimes.

The first time I laid eyes on Kurosaki, I hated his fucking guts. There wasn't a shred of anything even remotely close to romantic or even kind feelings toward him. I wanted him dead and by my own hand. I knew before I even met him that he was more than what anyone thought of him. Nobody would listen, not Aizen, or his lap dog, cock gobbling 4th rank, Cifer. They thought Kurosaki could be easily disposed of if he proved to be a problem. After knowing me, you'd think they'd learn a thing a two about misjudging people with an exceptional hair color. We were born that way for a reason, made to stand out all the way down to our genetic construction.

Our paths eventually crossed. Kurosaki at that time was young, with grand ideas of justice and a world that was purely black and white when it came to wrong and right, good versus evil. He had taken up sword against the Espada when I stepped into his hometown. Now, I had deliberately done so without permission from Aizen, but felt at the time I was the only one seeing sense in getting rid of this punk. He was accompanied by a small, black haired girl. She was easy to dispose of. I did so without batting an eyelash.

Anger is not often an emotion that is associated with beauty. The rage that transformed Kurosaki the moment his friend fell is something I'll never forget. Anger darkens his eyes, sets his jaw, and tenses all his muscles. He becomes this weapon for justice. He's quite like Steve Rogers in this way. And I'm crazy enough to find it attractive. I must admit I was a bit sad at the thought of wasting him before getting him under me in the sheets…but battle was even more important to me than sex.

Our first battle was rather boring, until Kurosaki surprised me at the end. During our whole scrimmage, he was unsuccessful at landing a blow on me. My life in Espada had made me agile and catlike with reflexes. However, he eventually delivered a good slash across my torso. It had left a scar when it healed. Often, Kurosaki's fingers delicately trace this scar and his eyes grow soft with apologies that I never let him speak. It's kills me to know they are there, that he feels any regret for cutting the asshat I was back then.

We crossed paths a few more times after that while I was still under Aizen's thumb. Each time was more intense than the last as we ripped each other apart. There were times when I had to taste the blood to tell whether it was mine or his I was covered in. I nearly had his life once, when I was double crossed by one of my own. That's when Kurosaki did something that surprised me, which at this point in life was extremely hard to do. He defended me, as beat to hell as he was by my hands.

Aizen escaped. I was taken prisoner.

I was to stand trial for my crimes against Seireitei and its soldiers. The few of us caught alive were to shoulder all the blame for Aizen's wrongdoings and be made an example of. The fact that we were even given a "trial" was just to uphold the honor those uppity, rich old bastards thought they had. If your name was ever associated with Hueco Mundo, you were worthless trash and nothing else. We were to be disposed of.

I can't say I was afraid of dying. If I'm being dead honest, I was more disappointed I hadn't gotten to kill more of soldiers sent to Hueco Mundo. My mind was trained to be a murder machine and nothing more. But it seemed trouble was brewing elsewhere for Seireitei during the long, drawn out process of my trial. Sitting locked away in solitary, cold metal against the skin of my wrists and ankles, I was unknowing of what was going on in high court.

Days later, I was being instructed I was now nothing more than property of Seireitei by a few guys who looked tough on the outside. Under their body armor and pounds of stacked muscles, I could smell their fear of even being in the same room as me. I was having fun watching the minuscule flinches they'd make every time I'd shift in my seat; albeit I was shackled to it and it was bolted to the floor. I was trained to notice things like that, and months in solitude did nothing to encumber my skills. I took great pleasure in the anxiety I was building that surely made them shit their brains out later that day.

My fun was spoiled when in walked none other than Kurosaki. He was making a regular habit out of becoming a source of surprise for me. He'd testified for me multiple times of the course of my solitary confinement. There was one thing Kurosaki was not, and that was stupid. I may or may not have told him he was many times; that was only to get his goat. He recognized the power I possessed and spent a lot of his free time convincing shriveled up old men that I was useful. He'd gotten me a gig which was the reason I was still alive. I was to help him and the other soldiers of Seireitei fight against the new threat.

Naturally, I agreed, because in my mind this meant I got another chance to cut that Strawberry down from the vine and splatter his juices under my boot in the most violent ways I could think of. I've been told I'm surprisingly creative when I put my mind to it. He told me what he saw in my eyes that day was akin to what he saw the first time I laid eyes on him. He's never named that emotion and to this day he just smirks his smart-ass smirk if I try to get the information out of him.

If you'd have told me then that Kurosaki would someday become the sun that I revolved around, I'd have laughed manically and then ripped your fucking throat out with my bare hands and shoved it up your ass and then delivered your still bleeding carcass to your mother's doorstep. I had no clue what this war was going to do me, or to him. It literally was the turning point of our lives.

Sometimes, when PTSD keeps me awake at night, I imagine I am a boulder in the forest. Immovable; I'm so still I am barely breathing. During this time, I watch Kurosaki sleep next to me. He's the serene, beautiful water of the river that flows around me, the boulder. I wait to break my facade only when I've finally reached the cusp of sleep, my eyes too heavy to gaze at the perfection I don't deserve lying next to me.

I become me again just long enough to whisper, "Du bist mein Engel."

End Chapter. I hope you enjoyed! Reviews and comments are always welcomed and appreciated! 3