Chapter Seven

Sunshine on the Past

Aizen watched as everything fell into place. He caressed the insignia on his chest, the starburst design for the fifth division with five points on it. He stared at the text message he'd just gotten and sighed. He'd hoped to keep them in the dark a little longer, but it seemed that it was time to move. He wondered how many undercovers Starrk had inside Yahweh's organization yet. He did wish he could find out, but that was impossible. There was a system in place to prevent anyone who wasn't in need of knowing something to know it. It was supposed to protect everyone involved. Even though Starrk was technically under him, his section was separate from the public face of organized crime to make sure no one knew too much.

He stood up and sighed. He never would have made this deal with Yahweh if it didn't give him what he wanted; and that was revenge.

He turned to face the window, a frown creasing his lips. It had been almost fifteen years ago when thing started falling apart. Kisuke had been his closest friend, a fellow scientist but lacked the business sense that Aizen had. And Aizen had a lot of penchant for being an opportunist. He'd always had a finger in a lot of pies, and some illegal. Kisuke had found out that he was trafficking new synthetic drugs and broke away, taking with him the formula for an incredibly powerful drug he'd dubbed hogyuku. It was potent, and blurred that line between life and death that no other drug could do. Of course, it had a high mortality. Nearly half his test subjects had died within two weeks of using the drug, but those that lived, they gained increased stamina, strength, and speed, at least until the drug wore off. The higher the dose, the stronger the effect, and the more the risk. It would have single handedly set him up for life. But no, his friend decided it was far too dangerous. Well, he would have it back.

It wasn't like Aizen had known that it was his old partner's nephew at first. Nephew was a misnomer, as Ichigo wasn't blood related to Kisuke at all. More like his stepchild than nephew even if he insisted on calling him that. Of course, Ichigo didn't know why his father and Kisuke were so very close. It was only after he saw the reports that he realized that the boy that Yahweh had snagged was Ichigo Kurosaki. He smiled to himself. It was the perfect opportunity to get what he wanted. He wondered how far he would have to take things to get what he wanted? He wouldn't kill him, of course, he couldn't because Yahweh wouldn't let him. He might be able to torture the boy again and that made him smile. He smiled at the thought of running his own hands over him, and sending it to his father to watch this time. He would break Isshin Kurosaki and Kisuke Urahara. Urahara could pretend to be a psychiatrist all he wanted. Of course, Urahara had been careful not to be seen when he visited the office. The chance had been too attractive to see to his "nephew".

Yes, oh the sweet revenge that would come of that. And Kisuke would crumble, and he would have the drug formula. And then, he would kill all three of them.

-oooooo-OOOOOO-oooooo-

"Grimmjow, I need to use the bathroom, please," came the quiet request from the floor behind him. "And I seem to be a little dizzy still."

Grimmjow smiled and helped the boy up, supporting him as they walked toward the bathroom. He sighed, helping him as he let him lean against him while he took care of his business. If the mirror had been in a better position, he might have seen the person in the bathroom, the flash of silver at the corner of his eye was all he saw as a crushing pain exploded in his head and the floor became much more desirable.

His eyes blinked slowly and he heard voices and pushed someone away that was shining a light in his eye. "Fuck off," he muttered.

"Well, he's fine," came a muttered reply. Not really muttered just far away.

He groaned and cracked both eyes open and found himself on the couch in the conference room and his head was going to explode. The last he remembered he was in the bathroom helping…

"Ichigo!" he said, sitting so fast that his head swam violently and he had to lie back down.

He felt a secure hand on him and looked up to see Renji. "Whoa there, partner. Gotta calm down or we can't help him at all."

"Fuck!" he said loudly, pounding a fist into the couch. "Did anyone see anything?"

Rukia came over. "We found out what sunshine means."

Grimmjow sat up slowly as Rukia handed her a badge. It was a division five badge. When he opened it, it read Sōsuke Aizen. He looked up slowly. "No. He was one of them?"

"Video caught him leaving the precinct with a wrapped bundle over his shoulder. We expect it was Ichigo."

"So we're back at the beginning?" Grimmjow sighed. "Why? Why would Sōsuke turn on the Shinigami?"

There was a gentle knock and they looked up to see the psychiatrist, Kisuke Urahara, a woman in a business suit with purple hair and dark skin, and Ichigo's father. Kisuke smiled, removing his striped hat. "I'm afraid I haven't been entirely truthful, and what I feared has come to pass. It seems that an old rivalry from my younger days has brought about some difficulties today."

The woman stepped forward and put a hand out to Grimmjow. "Agent Jaegerjaquez, I'm Agent Yoruichi Shihōin, FBI. It seems that you have had the opportunity to stumble right in the middle of an old case, including my former partner, Isshin."

Grimmjow blinked. FBI? He sighed. "Yeah, so it would be, come this way and you can fill us in."

They were led into the conference room and Isshin was sat down at the head of the table beside the blond in the striped hat. The woman with the deep purple hair leaned back in her chair beside Isshin. In the span of a few minutes, they'd detailed the second kidnapping and assault and the one that had occurred this day. Isshin was tired looking. The man beside him put a hand on his shoulder. Grimmjow thought oddly that the touch was a little friendly for brothers.

"Well," Isshin said softly. "I suppose you should be filled in if we're going to get my son back. The FBI has already put my daughters in protective custody so I don't have to have what happened last time occur."

Urahara nodded. "I'm Kisuke Urahara, known to Ichigo as his 'uncle', of course we're not blood related. I became involved with Isshin after his wife was murdered," the blond man said looking around, gauging reactions. "For all intents and purposes, Ichigo was never privy to the intimate nature of our relationship, and neither were others. I was simply the eccentric uncle in his life."

"The truth is he's a bloody genius," Isshin supplied, looking at the other man fondly. "He's an expert in chemistry as well as the brain. His credentials for psychiatry aren't fake. Which is where I found him, in the employ of a drug lord, an underling of Yahweh, manufacturing drugs. It was a raid on one of the meth laboratories, and I found this idiot hiding in a storage closet. We took him in, and he offered to help us stop the operation. He'd never been willing to start with, Yahweh having captured him and forced him to work on new synthetics. He was on a list of missing chemists we had been working on at the time, which is what led us across state lines. The rest had all been found dead, and we were sure that there was no way he'd be alive still."

Urahara nodded. "They wanted results, and while the others were good, I watched them all die because they weren't 'creative' enough. The result from my tinkering was a terrible drug. I'm afraid that the opportunity of unrestricted experimentation did get to me, actually, but most of what I did was try to put them off. The results were terrible. The mortality of the smallest dose was fifty percent, and even then, the results were minimal unless the dosage was ramped up to insane amounts where mortality went to around seventy percent. But the results were godly," Urahara said, thinking back. "Seriously godly. Those that lived were enhanced in all ways, speed, dexterity, heightened awareness, reflexes, and put in a state of euphoria and high suggestibility."

It didn't take long for the group around them to catch on. "A super soldier drug? That made the user unable to disobey?" Rukia said, leaning forward.

Urahara nodded. "Yeah, exactly. It was formulated into these small black pills, so I named it the hogyuku, because it shattered all bonds of reality. I never wrote the formula, not once. I had notes, but it was incomplete. I have photographic memory when it comes to formula, so it was not necessary. Everything I handed to Yahweh was incomplete. When I was found by the FBI, I took the formula with me. Unfortunately, with photographic memory, I can't ever forget it, no matter how hard I try."

"So, what does Aizen have to do with this?" Grimmjow said frowning, not liking where things were going. "Aizen is one of ours. At least, he's supposed to be."

"Sōsuke Aizen, like me, is research hungry, and once I was working with law enforcement, I was moved to a black location. I started working for the government with the hogyuku. Aizen was my partner. He started becoming suspicious, and I found out he was working out ways to use the partial formula to make new synthetic drugs. I left then and there. I know him; he still holds a grudge against me for leaving the work. There was nothing I could do, he was involved in the very law enforcement agency that was protecting me, so I wasn't protected. I ran from Shinigami protection and hid."

Grimmjow nodded. "So, what does he want? The formula?"

"And revenge," Isshin said with a sigh. "Fifteen years, yes. But then I was married to my beautiful Masaki, who had just given birth to our twin girls. And once we had gotten our hands on Urahara, we went forward with our attempts to prosecute the drug ring that Yahweh was running. We ended up putting a huge dent in his operation, and in the process, one of the chemists, a woman named Momo Hinamori was killed in the crossfire. Turned out she was Aizen's daughter. A couple years later, Ichigo was nine; my wife was murdered, leaving me to care for the three by myself. I had my suspicions, of course, that it was a hit. However, it was listed as a mugging gone wrong. Kisuke here helped me through it and became the crazy 'uncle' that the kids came to depend on in place of their mother."

Urahara nodded. "I was hiding under an assumed name until recently, and he left the FBI and picked up his medical career again. I set up a small psych practice. It has been that long, and to have this come up here is a surprise. We thought we'd left this behind. But it seems he's been following leads to get the formula back from me all along if he's found his way here. My guess is there's another leak."

Yoruichi snorted. "And when I find whoever else is in on this, I'm going to kill them."

"We don't know who else is compromised if Aizen was," Rukia said with a sigh as she looked up to see Ukitake coming into the room. "If he's always been on the other side, we had no idea."

Ukitake sighed as he sat down. "From now on, information in this room goes no further."

Grimmjow swallowed. "What about Ichigo? He's not in any condition to fend for himself, he almost drowned himself this morning, for fuck's sake!"

He caught the flinch of the men at the end of the table but didn't care. "Grimmjow, we can't do anything until we track the bastard down."

The blue haired agent didn't like it. But if there was another leak, the last thing they could do was involve more officers. He nodded. "Nel and I will start searching the area, then. Maybe we can find some clues."

-oooooo-OOOOOO-oooooo-

"Are we set up?" the voice asked, it was cold and cruel and there was dripping malice and excitement lacing every word.

"Shall I stay, sir?" another voice, cold but with something underlying cool timbre of it.

"No, I want privacy for this. You can enjoy the resulting recording once I'm done here. Did you set out the tray of instruments?" the cold voice asked again.

"Of course, just as you requested."

"No, I'll take him to the brink. Before you leave, give me the syringe, and turn the camera on."

The sound of a door closing reverberated through his body from knee to head. He shivered and eyes opened slowly, sluggishly. Something was wrong with his muscles. He yanked and found his arms bound by some shackles out to either side, and he was on his knees, feeling the muscle ache that came from being held up by his shoulders. He released a groan and blinked against the harsh lights.

"Ah, sweet prince, you're awake," the cold voice said in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

"Who…where…" he slurred, trying to look around.

There was a soft chuckle. "Here, say hello to the camera, prince," the breath on his neck sent prickles through his skin.

"Camera?" he asked and looked up and found he was staring into the lens of a large, professional looking camera. Feeling was beginning to come back to him and he yanked against the restraints.

"Um, yes, say, 'hi there daddy and uncle Kisuke'," he purred into his ear.

Ichigo's vision was clearing and he was in a perfectly white room. And was staring at the brown-haired man he remembered blearily from before. He was dressed in white, from head to toe, as well. Why was everything so white, he thought, staring around him. He felt the anger bubbling as Shiro was trying to force his way to the surface, the fighting instincts kicking in.

"Ha, not this time," the brunette said, and a needle was jabbed into his thigh mercilessly, getting a shout. "I refuse to be a victim of a little adrenaline-fueled boy with dissociative personality disorder. That violent personality is nasty and doesn't hold back. I'm surprised you didn't kill the man of Yahweh's last night. But this will quell any fight you have in you."

A heady rush had filled him as his arms began to shake. He was wide awake, perfectly alert now, and the world was vibrantly clear around him, so clear that the white made his eyes hurt. But his muscles weren't listening to his commands. Everything was too bright, too loud. He stared frantically at the man standing beside him, fiddling with things on a tray table he couldn't see. Something about this man was familiar, but his mind was fighting him on trying to remember what it was. Why was he familiar?

"There, my prince, isn't that a nice feeling?" he asked softly, leaning down and running a thin knife along the side of his face, making him freeze even in shaking. "I love drugs, you know, every aspect of them. Controlling the mind, the body, everything. They can make you feel good, and tear you apart, such a fine line. They can take you to heaven or throw you to the pits of hell to try and crawl your way out of. And all because I do it. Now what I gave you, oh it will make this nice and fun. You won't pass out, you can't, at least until blood loss causes it, but you'll be able to scream, and you'll feel every…little…touch." With each word of the last he sliced through the t-shirt Grimmjow had put on him.

"Stop!" he said, meaning to sound loud and in charge. It came out in a squeak.

But stopping was not on this man's mind as he worked the knife down the shirt exposing skin as he went. Then he started playing and flicking the blade leaving cuts no bigger than paper cuts with the razor sharp knife. He smiled and moved around behind, cutting across the shoulders until the remnants of the shirt slid off. His back was soon receiving the same treatment. Ichigo was desperately trying to call up his defenses but whatever was in the drug had him locked in place, even the insanity of the other personalities wasn't able to help him. Then, he was licking and sucking at the bloody cuts, causing the boy to try and struggle and then stare at his betraying arms which would not move. A low whine escaped his nearly frozen lips.

"Ah, we're just getting started, little prince."

He heard the clink of metal on metal and the knife was gone, but now something thick and smooth was tracing it's way over his back. There was a sharp smack and he jumped as burning heat flowed across his body. It was followed in quick succession by five more sharp, stinging slaps, and then he was in front of him with a long handled object with a flat piece at the end. He lifted it up and traced the flat of it against his chin.

"I've always loved riding crops. Something about the sound…" he muttered slapping his chest several times leaving him breathless.

There was a thunk and now hands slid the sweat pants downward to his knees. He tried to struggle against it, but he couldn't even protest as a second later his legs were pulled out and he was stripped of the last of his clothes. He whimpered, and he hated it. Then the crop was back, tracing along his thighs where he was pulled into a kneeling position again, his face dropped as far as he could. Then to his shock, he took the crop and painted a series of welting stripes along his inner thighs.

He bit back the yelps of pain. He was going to refuse to give him the pleasure. But it didn't deter him as he felt hands on one of his arms. He was humming now as he made his way down to where his hand emerged from the metal cuff. He looked down and smiled, and Ichigo was horrified to see him take his index finger and begin to twist it painfully. The pop and crack was enough to make his scream now. His breath was heavy and he thought surely that was all, but those merciless fingers curled around his middle finger.

"No!" he screamed, as he through his head back as the same crunching pop left him panting again. Years passed until each one of his fingers on his right hand had been reduced to a useless bunch of throbbing pain. He moved to the other side, and he desperately didn't want to have the same treatment applied to that hand.

This time, though he reached down and caressed the hand, kissing each joint of his fingers in turn. Ichigo was confused. He reached behind him, and came back with one of those long lighters for a fire place, and Ichigo's eyes went wide. Even under the drug he struggled to pull back the left hand, hearing the metallic click. The world burned as he felt the searing flesh of each of his fingers and his hand. He wanted to pass out, but the drug was keeping him well and awake. The smell, he couldn't handle the smell of his own flesh burning.

When he was done, finishing with the lighter clicking off, he was panting and covered in sweat. He looked up with wide eyes, wondering what this sadistic man was going to do now. He felt like he'd been here forever.

"Hmm, maybe I'll enjoy your flesh again," he whispered in his ear and now Ichigo knew him.

"Sunshine!" he barked out, only to be slapped hard.

"Perhaps…" he whispered, and all Ichigo could see was he man in the room, he one with the sunburst insignia on his chest… Sunshine. He was the sunshine.

His hand shut off the camera then, picking up and leaving. Into the night, only soft sobs could be heard until the awful drug wore off, and a sleep born of exhaustion, both physical and mental overtook Ichigo. Even then, in his sleep, though, hands pulled at the restraints that held him to the floor.

-oooooo-OOOOOO-oooooo-

Uryū was sure that he was going to go out of his mind in the small confines of the cell. He'd slept two times when the door opened and he stood up hopefully.

"Who's there?" He called.

"Shut up, idiot," came a feminine sounding voice and Uryū saw a short girl with blonde hair sneak up to the bars. She had a paper cup in one hand and a sandwich in the other. "Here, quickly now, before I'm caught," she hissed.

Uryū took the food and devoured it as fast as he could, sucking down the water in the cup without question. For all he knew, she could be poisoning him, but he didn't care right then. He'd been in here long enough to be starving and he could have drunk a gallon of water, he figured. He handed the paper cup back to her and she took it, shoving it into the pocket of her tracksuit pants.

"Just hold onto yourself, glasses. One of their agents just came in with Yahweh's prize, so things will be moving soon. There's a bunch of us in here that work for the other side, so just be patient," she said and disappeared outside the door again.

-oooooo-OOOOOO-oooooo-

Grimmjow grumbled as he wandered around the conference room, packing up the photos from the initial crime scenes. He still hated to look at them, considering that it was his own building in the background. It was really sick, though that he kid was going to be put under even more stress. He'd already hit his breaking point, and technically he was afflicted with a pretty heavy mental illness now. He didn't see the eyes following him at first. Then he glanced down and met a set of eyes. They quickly moved away from him, and he felt a tickle of memory. Those eyes had been awfully interested in him lately. He made a mental note to ask the captain. He was busy and heard a knock at the door behind him. He looked up to see one of the girls from the front desk downstairs.

"Agent Jaegerjaquez?" she asked. "There was a delivery for you."

He looked up and frowned, taking the small package. There was no return address, and the only thing on the front of the brown bubble wrap mailer was his own name. He turned it over and found it blank on the back.

"Who delivered this?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. "I don't know sir, I was on the phone, and when I turned around I found it on my desk."

He waved her off and looked it over. He'd wait until he hit the safe house before he even considered it. He shoved it into his coat and went about his work. They were supposed to meet at noon and he would show them what he'd gotten then. It took a bit, but finally he was headed over there and parked a block away. He slung the low backpack over his shoulder and walked up to the door of the apartment building, ringing the bell for the 13th floor. It popped open and he headed down the stairs into the basement. Technically, there was no 13th floor, but it was a signal for them to know that one of them was there.

He went down the stairs and found his way into a large basement with a huge table in the center. He looked up to find Isshin and Urahara musing over some paperwork and he shook his head to see how close they were sitting to each other. Every once in a while the dark haired man would reach up and try, with frustration, to push the blond's hair out of his face. Then scowl as it fell right back. He huffed and began to unpack the last of the stuff. He felt something sharp and pulled out the package.

Urahara's head shot up. "What's that?"

Grimmjow shrugged. "Dunno, while I was packing up, girl from the front brought it, saying it showed up on her desk, addressed to me. Haven't opened it…"

A silence settled. "What?"

"Sorry, I should have told you about this, you and Renji were gone when we were talking about this possibility…" Rukia said, taking the package and opening it carefully. Inside was a plain CD in a clear case.

Her hands shook a bit as she went to the computer and turned on the screen behind them. Grimmjow frowned and saw the abject terror on the face of the two older men as a figure filled the screen. It was Ichigo, arms splayed out, hanging by his wrists and completely unconscious. There was a voice in the background.

"King Kurosaki, and his consort Urahara, now is time to play. He's chosen the consort to the kingdom, now we must trade. One consort for another, right? I've got a plaything…" his voice was high as he made his way in front of the camera, kneeling in front of the boy in a white suit.

"See, you're out of luck right now. I've used this to make my move. You should know that if I'm showing my face, and giving you blatant evidence that I'm not afraid anymore of silly things like Shinigami or FBI. I'm beyond your reach. But your little boy, isn't, Isshin. And you know, there is some part of me very glad you have such a pretty little boy, because I can easily replace my lovely little Momo."

He walked around, and lifted Ichigo's head. "You know, he's completely insane, are you sure you want him back, Isshin? He's a little deranged at the moment, but I guess having several guys go at him did that. Don't worry, though, they can't touch your little boy anymore. No, they can't touch him," he said, dropping the boy's head. "Your opposing king has prohibited it, and King Yahweh is everything." There was a moment when Aizen stared at the screen and his eyes clouded before he continued.

"No, please, enjoy the show. And remember, for every day you delay…I'll send you another recording of our…adventures, King Kurosaki!"

The video blanked, shut off for a moment, then resumed with Aizen standing behind Ichigo's head. He slowly yanked his arms and his head lolled to the size slowly, eyes flickering. He groaned in the video, obviously coming to wakefulness out of whatever he'd had that put him under.

Aizen was behind him and spoke directly in his ear now, "Ah, sweet prince, you're awake."

"Who…where…" the voice said, thick and slurring.

Behind him, Aizen gave a wide grin and pushed his head upward to look directly into the camera. "Here, say hello to the camera, prince."

Ichigo's face scrunched up and he focused in front of him. "Camera?" As he said it he started pulling at the shackles that held his wrists.

"Um, yes, say, 'hi there daddy and uncle Kisuke'," Aizen said smirking behind his ear.

They watched as he blinked and Grimmjow held a grin, he knew that look, when someone else was going to take over, as he glanced around the white room.

But then, Aizen reached behind him and picked up a syringe and said smiling, "Ha, not this time." He jabbed the syringe into his leg, causing him to yell in surprise. "I refuse to be a victim of a little adrenaline fueled boy with dissociative personality disorder. That violent personality is nasty and doesn't hold back. I'm surprised you didn't kill the man last night. But this will quell any fight you have in you."

They watched as his head shot up and his whole body began to shake, his eyes wide and franticly looking around the room.

"There, my prince, isn't that a nice feeling?" Aizen said and was running a sharp, thin knife along his face. "I love drugs, you know, every aspect of them. Controlling the mind, the body, everything. They can make you feel good, and tear you apart, such a fine line. They can take you to heaven or throw you to the pits of hell to try and crawl your way out of. And all because I do it. Now what I gave you, oh it will make this nice and fun. You won't pass out, you can't, at least until blood loss causes it, but you'll be able to scream, and you'll feel every…little…touch."

They watched in complete horror as he proceeded to use the sharp knife to make bloody cuts up and down his front and back, until the floor was a dripping puddle. Ichigo protested, but it seemed to not do any good as he flicked his knife expertly. Then he stopped and began to lick the blood off his body, slowly and he was already whining at it.

"Ah, we're just getting started, little prince."

Everyone was frozen in place as Aizen proceeded to abuse him with a riding crop it seemed, muttering about how he loved the sound of them. Then, he yanked away the rest of the boy's clothes, and proceeded to leave bright red welts across the inside of his thighs. He was panting and trying very hard to quiet the yelps that were escaping him. Then he stopped and moved to his hand and everyone winced as he started to break his fingers. Rukia's hand went to her mouth, and she looked like she was going to be sick by the he was done, and then really did run from the room when he started burning the flesh on his other hand. When he was done, Ichigo was panting, wide eyed and covered with dripping sweat and blood. Rukia had come back and was standing in the doorway, watching with that same look on her face as Aizen turned to him and moved behind him.

He turned the camera off and it fizzed, coming to life again, showing his face in an office of some sort.

"The choice is yours. Receive daily…updates…or give me Isshin Kurosaki and Kisuke Urahara. How long can you tolerate the treatment I'm giving him? And yes, while the torture was excruciating it will only get worse. You know what I'm capable of, don't you Kisuke? I haven't even gotten out most of my tools. And yes, before you ask, while his hands were a fun pastime for me, it was critical. It is harder to fight when you can't use your hands. And I'll deal with his lower extremities in my next communique. Because, broken limbs are harder to run with. Not that he could find a way out of here," he said, and turned off the camera again.

There was a long silence that no one wanted to break. Everyone was far too horrified by what they'd seen.