As Mizuki strolled home she thought of nothing.

Having submitted her application for the thirteenth division did soothe her fretting. Her uncle wanted her to join the first division, but Mizuki had no intention of listening to her dictatorial uncle's orders both at work and in her private life. He was still pressuring her to stop seeing Ikkaku. And if that was her great granduncle's stance, her favorite 'uncle' Komamura-taicho would be hounding (no pun intended) her about it as well. Shunsui-taicho would be a good choice, but he tended to over-protect her. So it was Juushiro-taicho, since he wouldn't have time to be interfering with her private life and he usually stayed away from her private affairs, giving advice only when necessary.

Hopefully she would be able to get her way. Now that she was back in Soul Society she felt stifled, and she had no control over her life. Or unlife, whatever you call it.

And now this.

"The sun sets and he appears." She turned around and saw his tall form step out from the alley. "Kuchiki-taicho."

"Kai-san." He had a cloak on, unusual for him. "I have been waiting at your place for hours."

"Don't you have work to do?" snapped Mizuki. "You don't even have your lieutenant with you to assist in day-to-day administration."

"Can we please talk somewhere else?"

"No." She had to be firm on this. She had promised them she would not lapse. Not again.

Kuchiki Byakuya merely thinned his lips. "I wanted to pass you this."

"What is it?" A black box, about a hand's width and length. She did not take it from him.

"Just a gift." He did not look at her. "To wish you well with Madarame-san."

She took it, wanting to be gracious. It was an elegant silver comb, with tiny sakura blossoms etched into the metal. Mizuki swallowed, her throat unaccountably dry. "Thank you, sir," she managed at last. "It is really very kind of you. This... is a work of art."

Kuchiki acknowledged the sentiment behind the overly courteous words. "I have to go. Take care of yourself, Kai-san."

She smiled lopsidedly. "Do I have to?"

--------Eighty years ago---------

She looked up at Aizen. He always seemed more intimidating without his glasses, as if the lenses added a veneer of gentleness to his character. But then, how many people have seen him sithout those spectacles?

"Do I have to, senpai?"

"Don't you trust me?" His eyes sparkled in the candlelight. "I heard it enhances the loving experience... which is something I want you to feel."

"But...but I like looking at you when... when we..." Mizuki turned red again. He could always understand what she left unsaid. Her voice grew smaller. "And... and I always feel great when... when you...get...get me to...to... you know."

"Baby, come here." As Mizuki obediently snuggled into his arms, Aizen nuzzled her hair and kissed her forehead. "I like looking at you looking at me too. And I know I can make you 'you know' anytime. But I want you to try this, at least once. Do it for me, baby?"

As his hands moved under the covers. Mizuki knew she would give in again.

"That's my girl," he whispered as she pulled the blindfold over her eyes.

-------Eighty years later-------

She opened her eyes, hoping she had been dreaming.

She had.

Her skin was damp with sweat. Trying to contain the nausea, Mizuki struggled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, where she threw up.

As she splashed her face with ice-cold water, Kai Mizuki looked at herself in the mirror, and realized she saw the twelfth seat of the Fifth Division.

No. I've grown. I'm different. I'm over him, and over the whole thing. He no longer affects me. He's not even here. He's left. He's gone. I am not under his control anymore.

Who the fuck do I think I'm kidding?

Mizuki lowered her gaze from the mirror and started to weep.

-----

"You look terrible."

Mizuki barely summoned enough energy to look at Ukitake Juushiro. He was sitting up in bed, devouring what appeared to be a week's worth of breakfasts. "I had a bad night, taicho."

"And it's your first day too. Tsk tsk." There was a warm smile on his wan face though. Mizuki now understood what Shunsui-taicho had meant. Ukitake had an illness that paralyzed him from daily work; his immense power hindered by his own body. But he was always smiling, always striving to make the day better for others.

Aizen Sousuke wears a mask under his skin. That's why you don't recognize it.

She shook her head mentally. It was not what she wanted to remember.

She blamed the comb.

Kind of ironic that it was her second lover who ignited the memories of her first.

-----------Eighty years ago---------

He ran his long fingers through her hair.

"I like your hair long, dearest," he whispered into the nape of her neck, and kissed her hungrily.

She smiled as she filled in status reports on the patients, and said, "Senpai, Unohana-taicho wants these by tomorrow morning. Can I please work on these first?"

"I'll let you work after I brush your hair." Aizen reached for the wooden hairbrush in the drawer. "Then you'll come kiss me goodnight before finishing your work. Got that, baby?"

As he slowly ran the brush through her silky locks Mizuki closed her eyes. It was almost sensual, the rounded points of the bristles stroking her scalp, the feel of his fingers taking up locks of raven hair, the masculine scent of his body enveloping her.

"Senpai," she murmured as he put the brush away, "why did you choose me?"

"Because of love," Aizen replied equally softly. "Love is what drives you."

She melted into his embrace, the paperwork forgotten.

-------Sixty years ago---------

She tried to frame the words, but she had no voice.

She loved him. He knew that.

But this was not what she wanted.

But she loved him. He knew that.

She did. From the moment he admitted of his interest, to the first time they kissed on the bridge, to the first hollow she killed by his side, to the first time they made love in her bedroom, to the first family dinner she invited him to. She loved him.

For the past forty years she had been devoted to him like no other. She honored and obeyed, and gave everything for him. Because she loved him.

Love is what drives you.

But this was not right.

Wearing only a robe, Gin Ichimaru lounged in the chair, his arms resting along the arms. "So, Mizuki-chan, persuade me."

-----

"You wish to stop."

Mizuki nodded. She had to. She couldn't handle it. She was weak; She didn't deserve him.

"Baby, are you still upset about offering to help me?"

Mizuki stifled the tears threatening to overwhelm her. She nodded again, just once.

"I'm proud of you, baby." She looked into his eyes. Warm eyes behind the glasses. The same eyes that had pleaded for her to persuade Ichimaru Gin to join the fifth division. He had to be an asset, hadn't he? Aizen senpai had wanted to work with the silver-haired shinigami so badly.

He took her hands in his, stilled the trembling. "It takes courage to tell me that you don't want to do this for me. You know that. It takes courage to resist a lover's desperate plea."

She swallowed. She wanted to speak but there were no words that expressed her inner turmoil. She wanted to help, she could help, but at the same time she felt degraded, dirty, used. She was useless. He was so kind, just holding her hands, soothing her, and she had let him down.

They were in her garden, beneath the gnarled old tree by the little pond. She sniffed as he tucked her head beneath his chin and his hands slipped about her waist.

"I'm sorry, senpai. I just can't do it. Not again."

"Of course you can't." His voice was suddenly cold, and strange. She tried to pull back to look at him, but his arms pinned her against his broad chest. "You can't, because your love is weak. You're weak. If you loved me enough, you would be able to continue."

She froze. This was not happening. Before she could respond he hugged her tighter. She felt something crack and smothered a cry. "You've been obedient and loyal, I thought you could actually be of some help. It's not even much, just a few nights when I'm too busy to watch you. But you can't."

Now he had her crushed against him, and she screamed for real as the crack speared pain through her torso. "You're screaming? You don't get to scream until I let you scream, you know that." She struggled weakly against the vice-like grip, the slowly tightening hold. He laughed mildly.

"You want to resist? You haven't resisted in decades, baby. And you will resist only when I tell you to resist-"

"That's enough!" Someone huge crashed into them, uprooting the tree. The wooden floor from the corridor was in splinters.

Aizen released his prey and swung his sheathed zanpakuto into the intruder's face, shattering the bamboo helmet.

Komamura roared as he cradled the shinigami's whimpering form in one large arm. She clung to his robes, gasping with pain and hurt. "How dare you hurt her!"

The fifth division captain smiled at the large, furred form of the seventh division captain. "So that's your true face, Komamura-taicho. How interesting."

Baring his teeth, Komamura snarled, "Touch one of Yamamoto's kin again and I will kill you."

"General threats don't work that well, Komamura-taicho." Aizen retied his sword to his belt.

"I'll crush your skull between my teeth!"

Aizen's smile grew wider. "Now that is a fine threat. But you can't protect her from me, Komamura-taicho. She's my girl. You can't change that."

"Perhaps I can." The calm, feminine voice from the corridor interrupted the two captains. Unohana stood, severely disapproving. Her eyes were cool and calculating as she surveyed the scene. "I came to collect some papers from my subordinate. I suggest you leave now, Aizen-taicho, and we will not report this incident to the soutaicho."

"What?" Komamura growled. "After he almost-"

"Don't," whispered Mizuki hoarsely. She gasped again as her ribs shot pain through her. "Let senpai... let Aizen senpai go." Seeing the mutinous look in the captain's face, Mizuki added, "Please. Just, just let...let it be."

The fifth division captain sauntered out of the Kai family grounds.