Summary- "A flowers true perfume can only be found when it is crushed; and what a pretty flower we have found this time, Gin." ~ AU! Highschool. In a town where perverted or bloodthirsty predators loom around every corner, and the streets are filled with gang warfare, Shiro has one weakness- his brother Ichigo. YAOI, ShiroIchi- Incest, UKE! Ichigo.

Disclaimer- I do not own bleach.

Warnings- Lime & Lemon. Violence. Character death. Coarse language. Disturbing and Mature Themes. Read at your own discretion.

A/N- Thanks so much to all my anonymous reviewers! Silverflower, queen, , Luna Takamarie and tazbird ! Sorry I haven't got around to thanking you yet, but here I am! So thanks so much.

This chapter's a lot longer than all the rest, but I felt like I needed to make it up to you for the long wait, and all the flashbacks in this (flashbacks are in italics) It's hasn't been beta-ed so sorry for the messiness.

I probably overdid it, but I hope you enjoy it still. :P


Ichigo's resistance was fraying as he was forcefully seated on a hard, wooden chair, in his nightmare's version of room 101. He had held out bravely all throughout the terrifying ordeal of being forcefully bundled into an expensive car, gagged, blindfolded and tied up like a piece of cargo.
He had struggled against the burley men, harder than ever before in his life. He had screamed, clawed, bit and thrashed his body around in a panicked attempt to escape the confines, but the men apparently had no qualms against violently putting him down, although not before copping a feel of everything the lithe orangette had to offer.

"What a pretty little thing the boss is bringin' in this time, eh Zommari?" Slurred a gruff, raspy voice leering down at him, as the person's large hands grasped and groped his hips and chest. Ichigo struggled, wiggling around and screaming into his gag, but soon froze up as he discovered what an effect his fighting had on the lap he was strewn over.

Something large, blunt and hard was poking him in the gut, and he wasn't so naïve anymore to be ignorant of what it meant.

"Keep your hand off that, Nnoitra, it belongs to Aizen-sama." Spat a cold voice from the drivers seat. The statement saw Ichigo's fight intensify, despite the perverted hands that stilled him.

So many things were running through his mind, on top of the heart-wrenching panic and deafening beat of his heart in his ears.

'Aizen Sosuke! No I can't let them take me, I don't belong to him!' He yelled inwardly, 'Nnoitra? Nnoitra Gilga? Nel's childhood friend, why is he doing this!'

"Naw, such a shame. Aizen always get's the best toys…" Nnoitra chuckled to himself, before Ichigo managed to knee him in the balls and elbow him in the gut, despite his bound legs and arms.

"Oi ya little shit!" Nnoitra spluttered, "Stop fuckin' moving!" He tried to hold the teen down again, but his patience was running thin. A harsh fist in the stomach, and side of the head had pain exploding from Ichigo's skull, before he lost consciousness after the abuse was repeated, again and again.

When he awoke, Ichigo was shocked into compliance by the steel nozzle of a gun pressing into his back. His legs shook as he was pushed and herded through a series of twists and turns, dragging his feet in defiance, before his escort's patience snapped and the man swung him over a broad shoulder like a sack of potato's.

He had struggled again, and beat at the person's back, screaming into his gag and kicking his legs out, but more physical abuse had him whimpering in pain and fright.

The blindfold was finally removed before a menacing steel door. Ichigo was terrified beyond belief as his kidnappers bundled him into a concrete, grey room and handcuffed him to the lone chair in the centre.

It was like something from a thriller movie, only being the one in the victim's position was not thrilling in the slightest. It was mortifying.

Ichigo's chest rose and fell as his breathing became short and laboured, sweat dripped from his forehead in waves, despite the freezing weather, and his gut twisted around like a vice, stringing him tighter and tighter, before he felt like he would explode.

The silence was stifling; the biting air had every inch of him shivering as he sweated with nerves, and if Ichigo hadn't been claustrophobic before, he certainly was now. It felt like the walls were slowly closing in on him, crushing him from every side.

He didn't know how long he sat there, cuffed to the chair and shivering. There was no clock, or even a window to count the time as it passed, and Ichigo was too dazed to do so anyway. He didn't know what Aizen wanted from him, he didn't know why he was here, or where here was. All he could do was wait and think about all the horrible possibilities that awaited him.

And of course, think about Shiro; wonder and hope to high-heaven that his twin was okay. He hoped and prayed, harder than ever before, that Shiro hadn't been brought to this same drab place after he was called away from class.

Just the thought of burley men whisking Shiro off his feet and into a car was almost comical; his twin wouldn't be taken down so easily. There was no way Shiro would fall for such a stupid ploy. So why did Ichigo's stomach still churn with worry, even as he fought to assure himself that Shiro was okay?

"Who's the strongest guy you know?" The albino asked firmly, the serious look in his golden eyes stopping Ichigo in his tracks.

"Y-You…" he stuttered.
"Who has never, and never will, lose in a fight?" Shiro asked.

"You…" Ichigo sighed, knowing where this was going.

"Exactly, so there's nothing to worry about, right." Shiro said, not even asking a question, as there was only one answer he would accept.

"Right, Fine, I'm not worried about you, because you'll be fine." Ichigo smiled, tugging on his sleeve.

He was brought out of his troubled thoughts, when his solace was interrupted. A man, about 6'1", strode into the concrete room like he owned the place, brown eyes sharp and menacing as he surveyed the teen like one would trash on the street. The aura this man exuded was enough to have Ichigo cowering; he inspired an absolute dominance over everything in sight. His countenance, as he held himself high and mighty, circling the teen like a hawk with eyes to match, and his motions, as he smoothed elegant fingers through his slicked back, brunette hair and clasped his hands behind his back, were nothing short of aristocratic.

The suit he wore was immaculate, his shoes shined to perfection, and not a single hair out of place on his pristine head.

"Ichigo Kurosaki, the thorn to my rose, how should I go about removing you?" Aizen muttered to himself, coming to a stop before the wide-eyed teen.

"I could always take 'im off yer hands…" Slurred a familiar voice from the doorway. Ichigo's head whipped round to find Gin, leaning against the frame of his only escape route. The teen's mind was bombarded with Starks voice;

"Gin? Well, he had this beautiful girl; he always used to gush about her, bragging and showing her off. He was absolutely smitten. We were never close; that guy scared the shit out of me. He always had that mocking smile on his face; it was really creepy, and I've never seen him open his eyes… Anyway, he was going to propose to this girl, right before she was murdered. I never pegged him as stupid, or blindly loyal. He always seemed really intelligent; like a conniving little snake…" Stark trailed off lazily. "But oh well, if he wants to stay loyal to Aizen I guess he has his own reasons. It seemed to me though, that Aizen killed her to stop Gin from leaving; as Gin was his right hand man, and was planning to run off and get married and all that; Aizen wouldn't allow it. So he probably has something to hang over Gins head and keep him from leaving."

A wave of pity was all Ichigo felt as his eyes locked on the silver haired fox.

"This one's much too pretty to be wasted on the likes of you, Gin." Aizen said, propping his chin in his hands thoughtfully, "Besides, he is already promised to another…" The brunette smirked.

Ichigo's wide eyes only grew as the two men's leering continued; their gazes burning into him like lasers. His heart was thumping like a hammer and his sweating hadn't ceased.
"Wh-What do you W-Want W-With me?" He managed to stutter, despite the frog that had imbedded itself in his throat.

The brunette extended one elegant hand to grasp the teen's jaw, and twist it to the side. The touch alone sent uncomfortable prickling over Ichigo's skin, and he wanted nothing more than to swat the hand away and run. Aizen smirked at Ichigo's flinch, and the shivers that overcame the lithe body beneath him, at only a touch.

"I don't want anything with you, dear." Aizen smiled, forcing the teen's face back so doe-brown eyes met his own. " You are but a cog in the great scheme of things; a pathetic civilian, with no major role, no choice but to play your part. Your pretty face will not get you anywhere with me, because what I want is so much more valuable. What I want, is your brother." Aizen's smile was sickly sweet, and his eyes shone with cold delight and stale affection. It took a moment for his words to register in the orangette's mind.

"Shiro!-? You leave him alone!" sudden anger overcame the meek teen's countenance, as he steeled himself to defend his brother, at all costs. If it was for Shiro he could do it; he could take anything, do anything, be anything, because he loved Shiro with all his heart. There was no way he would allow this man to get his hands on Shiro. With a determined fire lit behind his eyes, Ichigo braced himself for a hit that never came.

"It seems you don't understand; the blinding power of love." Aizen chuckled, berating Ichigo as if he were a child. "You're brother has deep feeling for you it seems, and these feeling will be his downfall. It will inevitably be the link you share with him that forces him to submit to my will."

Ichigo's eyes widened in realisation, a flashback of Shiro kneeling before Gin playing through his mind, the things his brother did in exchange for Ichigo's safety. It made him shiver, to think that he could cause his brother more suffering yet, simply by being so weak and stupid. Simply by existing.

"H-He won't do it." Ichigo tried to say, but his voice was already breaking.

"Of course he will; love is the most powerful emotion of all. Once he discovers your whereabouts, what do you think he will do? He will play straight into my hands-"

None of Aizen's words registered in Ichigo's mind, besides the word love. It struck him them, that Shiro had never actually said he loved him. Despite all they'd done, Shiro had never said it. It was shocking to discover this, and Ichigo didn't know whether his heart was breaking or blooming. It seemed to him that it was simply splitting in two.

He laughed, a croaky, hysterical sound that cut through Aizen's lecture, even as tears spilled from his eyes.

"H-He doesn't love me." Ichigo sobbed, "Shiro hates me, he's always hated me, I only drag him down and get in his way; I'm no good at anything. Shiro only pretends to love me, because of something our mom said before she died. He pretends, because it's easier that way."

That was the way things had always been between them; Shiro had always hated him, that couldn't have changed so soon after their mother died. Therefore Ichigo concluded it must have been what their mother said to him, as she was dying that made him change; he knew she had left shiro with something, a bond of sorts, but Shiro refused to share it with anyone. It was just like Shiro to keep something as important as their mother's last words, all to himself; Shiro had always been like that.

The albino had changed after that; started caring, and for a long time Ichigo thought it was sincere, but he saw now, that it was all a big act. Shiro hadn't truly loved him; he only wanted to get laid.

Tears flowed from his eyes at the thought, and his heart constricted painfully in his chest.

On the bright side, this also meant Shiro would have no reason to come for him; a joyous thought. Because even despite it all, the teen still loved his brother with all his heart, and always had. At least while he was in here, at the hands and mercy of gang bosses, Shiro was safe and free to live his life.

It made Ichigo howl with triumphant laughter and sob violently, as tears fell from his eyes to dampen the floor beneath him.

He knew, somewhere, that he was loosing it; much like Shiro had done on the night they first met Gin and Tousen. Ichigo was crumbling under the pressure of the situation, and his own thoughts. The walls were closing in on him; for real now. Hell's gates were opening up all around him, to consume his body and damn him for all of eternity. Horrible flesh eating monsters were stirring in the shadows, chattering and snapping their teeth to snatch a piece of him as he was torn apart. Yet all Ichigo could do was laugh in their blackened faces and revel in the comforting bliss that Shiro was free and living.

Aizen was frowning deeply, watching the teen go mad, convulsing in his chair and laughing nervously.

"Perhaps ya gave 'im a bit too much, neh, Aizen-sama?" Gin chuckled quietly from the doorway, shifting on his feet as Aizen's frown deepened, he turned and swept out of the room dramatically, leaving Gin to lock the teen behind closed doors and scurry after his boss.


An eerie, western styled bedroom, dominated by an elegant, oversized canopy bed, an abundance of polished, hardwood surfaces, Turkish rugs, Indian lamps and luxuries from all over the world decorated the lavish surroundings Shiro found himself in when he awoke. The scent of tea and exotic spices vaguely filled the air, clinging to every surface and making him feel woozy, but relaxed.

Where was he? It took a moment to remember exactly what had happened, and to his dismay, the teen couldn't remember anything beyond Starks appearance.

If his kidnapper was trying to drown him in luxury, then expect the next person to walk through that door not to emerge mauled; whoever that may be was in for a surprise. Sure, it wasn't the worst position to wake up in; at least he wasn't shackled, chained or strung up on a hook- it could be worse. But the fact remained that he was here against his will, and didn't intend to stay.

Where was Ichigo? Remembering that his brother had also been kidnapped, dredged worry back to the surface of his mind. Was Ichigo okay? Was he being treated the same as Shiro was at this moment? And most of all, where was he?

The clicking of the locked door had Shiro's head whipping round to eye it.

The knob moved, and in a flash Shiro was off the bed and braced in an offensive stance to the side of it. As soon as it creaked open, and a sliver of human flesh emerged from the other side, Shiro pounced, grabbing the outstretched arm and tugging the person off their feet.

She yelped as she was hauled into the room and smashed against the wall, hot tea crashed from the tray in her hands, scalding his arms as he chocked her. Shiro quickly took in her appearance; she was a maid, the whole outfit completed down to the T, and currently she was wheezing and clawing at the hands around her windpipe like a panicked animal.

She sucked in ravished breaths and dropped to her knees on the floor as he released her, then he slipped out the open door and hurried down the hallway, not caring in the slightest what answers she might have to his questions. All he cared about was finding Ichigo. He swung the door to every room he came across open and peered inside, but no one was in sight, least of all his beloved brother.

"Where d'ya think your goin', Shiro-kun?" sounded a painfully familiar, annoying voice from his left, just as he rounded the maze of halls into a common room, of sorts.

"Home." He answered bitterly, without turning around or stopping, until a firm, threatening hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Tha's a pity, Aizen-sama thought ya'd at leas' stay ta hear wha' he has ta say." Gin chuckled. Shiro shrugged the hand off, and continued on his way until Gin's next words stopped him in his tracks.

"Don't 'cha wanna know where yer brother is?" The fox inquired, and in an instant Shiro was on him, tackling the man to the ground, almost tearing his arms from his sockets as he pinned them, and sneered into the man's face.

"Where is he!-?" he asked with rage burning in his eyes. "What have you done with my Ichigo?"

"Protectiv' as ever, I see." Gin chuckled nervously, and the fear behind his closed eyes became evident to Shiro. He drove his fist into Gins face, cracking bones and smashing the fox's porcelain skin into the flooring. He grinned at the rush of joy and adrenaline that jumped through his system, revelling in how good it felt to finally lay one on the fox-faced bastard who's dick he'd been forced to suck.

"Where's that big, black friend of yours? He dead or something?" Shiro asked smugly.

"Tousen-san's right as rain! Nice o' ya ta ask." Gin simply smiled back, and that made the albino angrier. He punched the man again, drawing a pained gasp.

"Where is Ichigo?" He snarled again, but Gin's smile didn't falter.

"You'll have ta ask Aizen-sama; he's comin' ta talk to ya soon, better get back ta yer room or he'll be angry." Gin replied. Shiro lifted his arm to hit the man again, but his raised arm was grasped by a dark figure that hovered behind him. In an instant he was pulled off Gin and into a firm chest. Dark arms wrapped his hands to his sides, and held him in place as he struggled. He gasped as the figure threw him against a wall, and he was slightly stunned as his head was knocked against a piece of furniture.

Low growling entered his ears, as he backed up, dazed against the wall, trying to catch his breath before he made another move.

Glittering, seething pink eyes surrounded by a huge mop of bright, blonde, straggly hair hovered directly in front of him, and it took a moment to deduce the creature was a dog, as it's mass of golden locks hid it's actual figure. Slobbery, doggie drool dripped from the pearly fangs that protruded from it's mouth, a sparkly crown shaped collar wrapped around it's huge neck, and pink eyes shone with rage as it stared Shiro down, huge paws ready to pounce.

Then Shiro's eyes landed on the figure behind the dog; long, dark dreadlocks, perpetual frown, and firm, smooth muscles were exactly as he remembered them. The only difference was the orange visor now covering Tousen's eye sockets.

"Stand down, Wonderweiss." He muttered, closing in on the albino and standing over him menacingly. Abruptly, Shiro was hauled to his feet, displaying that none of Tousan's strength had deteriorated after loosing his sight. He squeezed the teen's shirt tightly between one hand, the other rising up to run across Shiro's face. His hands rested over golden eyes, and a snarl ripped through dark features.

"Justice will come for you, boy." He muttered, "Do you have any idea what you have taken from me? I promise you, that your sins will catch up to you very soon, and you shall feel suffering like never before." The fingers pressed threateningly into the teen's eye sockets, and Shiro pinched them shut, hands clawing at Tousen's chest and arms.

"Now, now, Aizen-sama won' like it if ya take away them pretty golden eye's o' his, they're almos' as pretty as your's used ta be, Tousen-san." Gin placed a hand on the black man's shoulder, and pulled him from the gasping teen. "Let's take dear Shiro-kun back ta his room, neh? An' make sure he stay's still till boss arrives."

The albino stumbled to his feet, and darted off in the direction of the closest door, but the damn dog was immediately on to him, teeth ripping into his pant leg and sending him crashing to the ground. In another second, Gin was on him too, pinning his hands behind his back and cuffing them together, as Tousen held his kicking legs down. Together the two men hauled his frantically thrashing, screaming body back to his room. This time leaving him no leeway as they attached his cuffs to a wire strung across the headboard of the bed, and did the same to his legs. Tousen ripped of his dirty school shirt, and ruined pants, leaving him in only a pair of black boxers, while Gin had fun laughing and cooing at him, attempting to force-feed the snarling teenager a cup of drugged tea before they gave up and left.

Shiro was too busy fuming, struggling and rubbing his cuffed wrists and ankles red-raw to tell how much time passed after the retainer's departure. He was desperate to escape, hungry, angry, and worried. When finally, he managed to contain his burning anger enough to think through the situation, nothing promising came to light. He couldn't see, nor find, any plausible escape routes, and even if he did escape, he had no idea where the gang-boss was keeping his brother. So, grudgingly, he resolved to wait for Aizen to finally appear, and finally find out what on earth the man could possibly want from him. He had thought through all the possibilities, the most likely of course, was sex. But as much as he thought about it, the albino could not fathom why someone of Aizen's status would want to have sex with him; he was a freak! Especially when they could have Ichigo's gorgeous earthly appearance. His berry had always needed protecting from predators just like Aizen, Tousen and Gin. The thought of what those men could possibly be doing to his brother now, sent pangs of pain and panic through his heart. He just couldn't take it; the not knowing, the mystery, the imagination.

Surely Aizen was doing this on purpose? Trying to drive him insane, leaving him to wonder in the dark, as his mind conjured up every, grotesque, disturbing image imaginable. And just as he thought he was finally going to break, just as he thought his mouth would tumble open so the pent up screams of frustration and anger could come gushing out, and tears would possibly leak from his eyes, the door opened.

The man from the principal's office stood in the doorway, appearing with no shred of the previous welcoming, calm aura that he had displayed. This man looked exactly the same, but was a completely different person nonetheless. Menacing, dictating, cruel, smug and handsome. At this moment in time, framed by the light seeping in behind him through the doorframe, Aizen Sosuke appeared like something more than human in the dim light; everything, down to the arrogant, smirking expression on his face, was just as Shiro had imagined the 'Master of Illusions.'

"Where's Ichigo?" he immediately growled.

"Safe, secure, and unharmed, depending on your actions." Aizen quickly replied, dispelling a little of his former tension and worry. "It's a shame you had to cause such trouble for my men; you are supposed to be treated with the utmost care and eloquence. You are a guest in my mansion, after all, and I had intended to make you feel most welcome. " Aizen mused, oozing confidence, as he strolled into the room, flicking on lights as he went.

"Do you chain all your guests to your bed, Aizen? What a lovely welcoming." Shiro spat. When Aizen simply ignored him, he began struggling again, snarling and fighting. The architect of all his suffering was standing only feet away, yet he couldn't dive up and choke the life out of the smug bastard. He couldn't wrap his hands around the brunette's neck, or slice a knife through his jugular, or put a bullet straight through Aizen's forehead, like he wanted to so badly. The restraints were practically a torture all by themselves; He could barely take simply watching his enemy stroll around before him. Tempting him like a piece of meat to a starving man.

"Now that you are here, I will go about making the situation perfectly clear to you." Aizen approached him; mindless of Shiro's snarl, and placed one elegant hand over the teen's chest; right where his heart was.

The touch was scalding; like a hot iron branding his skin. Yet it was so cold at the same time; a painful freezing block of ice burning away his flesh. He shivered, and writhed, struggling to get the man's touch off his body, but Aizen's frightening brown eyes held him mostly in place.

"You are mine, Shiro Kurosaki. Every part of your body belongs to me now." His tone was scarily calm as he moved his hand across the teen's chest; down his navel to rest again at the waistband of black boxers. "Every part of you is mine, do you understand?" Aizen could have been smiling, and his words would have been enough to make any grown man soil their pants.

Shiro could suddenly understand what Stark had been trying to get across, all those weeks ago, when he'd first talked about the 'Master of Illusions.'

"Sosuke Aizen is his name. He is a terrifying man; the master of Karakura's underworld. Aizen controls everything that happens in this town, and everyone in it. Like I said; I don't know why he'd be interested in you, but his favourite pastime just happens to be messing with people's heads and lives, so it's not very surprising. He's a pretty is scary guy, even without his insane power, just the sound of his voice instils fear in people. He knows everything, and has the sharpest mind I've ever seen. In fact he's probably the cruellest, most conniving, cunning bastard to exist. His intelligence and knowledge are unrivalled. He could probably be one of the most lethal people in existence. But unfortunately for the sake of the world, he definitely has a few screws loose in his head; the man's insane. He love to mess with the lives and minds of civilians, but he also messes with his subordinates; he murdered the girlfriend and wife of two of his most loyal subordinates, and I don't even think they know… They still follow him blindly."

That had been Stark's explanation; the first he'd ever heard of the man, beyond whispering's of a 'boss' here and there on the streets and during fights. The situation wasn't looking very hopeful. Not a shred of a chance leaked through.

He wondered now, as Aizen loomed over him, the pressure and intense, dominating persona of the real Master of Illusions, in the flesh, almost enough to make him submit. He wondered if there had ever really been any chance that they could win this fight.

Thinking back, Stark obviously never seemed to think so.

"It's such a shame; you're too young to be dragged into this world…. All you can really do is fend them off; He might get bored of messing with you after a while. " Stark suggested hopefully.

"Tch, well aren't you optimistic, thanks so much for all your help." Shiro muttered sarcastically.

"Where's Stark? What did you do to him?" Shiro growled, his thoughts had reminded him of the drunken, goateed teacher, and he suddenly had a lot of questions, revolving around his last memories of the man knocking him out. It appeared to him now, that the man approaching him could not have been Stark at all; the Master of Illusions would certainly have ways to live up to his name.

"I assure you I haven't wronged Coyote Stark in any way, shape or form." Aizen smiled slyly.

"Leave him out of this! If you do anything to him or his daughter I swear I'll gut you." Shiro growled, low and insidious, yet Aizen didn't even flinch.

"My dear boy, you seem to be delusional. What reason could I possibly have for harming my most loyal, obedient and competent pawn?" The brunette chuckled, yet there wasn't a trace of crafty deceit in the man's words, only honest amusement.

Shiro could have sworn he felt a jagged crack dance through his glass soul. In the split second that the words registered a stinging fracture spread like a spider's web through his gut. But of course, Aizen was lying. No word from the brunette's mouth could be trusted, and no chip in Shiro's heart meant anything. Just the thought of what Aizen was implying could have made him laugh.

"Stark's not you're pawn. He stopped working for you ages ago." Shiro replied, yet his voice came out quivering, and he couldn't bring himself to meet Aizen's confident gaze.

"Is that what he told you? You poor boy." Aizen mused. "His job may have changed slightly over the years, the tasks he is assigned less strenuous, but Coyote Stark has never left my payroll in all these years. "

"Y-You're lying." Shiro stuttered, as Aizen drove another wedge in the fragmented fissure, like a hammer on a nail.

"Being mendacious is for commoners, I have no need for such things as lies. After all, it is of no consequence to me how you interpret the truth, but rest assured I shall not soil myself by telling underhanded lies. I am above such things." The brunette scoffed, and just like that added a third wedge in the split, and another nail in the coffin. "Would you like to speak with him as confirmation? " the brunette inquired.

Speak with Stark? Was this all some giant ploy to turn him against Stark? Would the person he spoke with really be Stark? Needless to say he was sceptical. He didn't believe a single word that spilled from the brunette's mouth. But having those hawk eyes boring into him was driving him insane; Aizen's presence in general was driving him insane. The bloodlust was thrumming in his veins and he just wanted to kill, and kill, and kill. This was so fucking confusing.

"Un-cuff me and I'll consider what you say." He finally said. It hurt to even think something like that; something along the lines of civilized to this monster, which deserved death. But the restraints were even more infuriating. He was sick of being restrained and held down, sick of being overpowered, again, and again. He wasn't weak, so why couldn't he bust out of this place? Why did he continually fail at saving his brother from heartache?

"As you wish." Aizen's smile was unnerving, and with a click of his aristocratic fingers, Gin came bumbling into the room. The fox-faced bastard took off his cuffs, but one single ankle remained firmly attached to the foot of the bed by a strong chain. He could roll across the bed, jump on it, dangle his feet from one edge, but his captor's pretty throat remained just out of reach.

"Send in the Primera." Aizen ordered, with a wave of his hand Gin had fled the room. Not long after an intense staring match between the two, there was a knock at the door.

Stark dragged his feet into the room, hands in his pockets and gaze trained to the floor, every step taken smashed through the fissure Aizen had wedged in him. Aizen's words had been splintering, but seeing it with his own eyes was shattering. He felt like something had finally broken inside him. His heart perhaps?

"So it's true then?" was all Shiro could finally utter. No matter how hard he looked, no matter how hard he thought, the man before him was definitely Coyote Stark. Said man nodded slowly and sadly, refusing to meet the albino's gaze.

"Do you believe me now, Shiro-kun? There's nothing you can do to escape your fate. No one you can turn to. The life you knew is a lie-" As Aizen continued, stalking across the room and ranting like a college professor, Shiro managed to catch a glimpse into one of Stark slate grey eyes. There was nothing in them he hadn't been expecting. Steely wolf eyes were filled to the brim with sorrow and pity.

Shiro turned away and snarled in disgust, clenching his fists at his sides. Looking at the pitiful, begging hound-dog Stark had become filled him with absolute revulsion and anger. He wanted to kill something so bad. His situation was pathetic; Aizen was insane if he thought he could capture something as wild as a blizzard in a jar and keep it for himself, yet the man had managed to do just that.

"Aizen- sama, can I request a few minutes alone with the boy?" Stark suddenly piped up, his shoulders squared firmly as he looked at Aizen's shoes. The sight was almost enough to have Shiro retching; watching someone as strong as Stark bow down to a monster like Aizen. Stark was the strongest man Shiro had ever come across, the first person he ever really respected, and to have his teacher- hell, he'd even go as far as to say Stark was his mentor- broken so completely, right before his eyes, really was making him sick to the stomach.

He always knew Stark was never going to stand up against Aizen on his own, but blamed that on the man's laziness, not fear. Yet fear was the only accounting factor as Stark dared to ask such a bold request of his master, as he bowed down and whimpered like a fucking canine.

Aizen was frowning, as he reached one hand out to pet Stark's hair in thought. Watching a grown man pet another grown man over the head like a child was not something Shiro wished he had seen. Especially not when said child was Stark.

"You've done a marvellous job, Primera. I dare say, the only one who followed my orders correctly, so I suppose, just this once, you can have a reward. On top of the one I have already promised you." Aizen turned to sweep out of the room, waving his hand behind him like he was royalty. "Just remember, all you see is mine, and I don't like to see my property soiled, no marks, as I will be back later to claim what is mine." Then the door swung shut firmly, locking in place of it's own accord.

Shiro was so fucking angry he couldn't look at Stark without fearing his hands would rip through themselves, and his teeth would grind right through his bottom jaw like a chainsaw. It was bubbling in his gut like burning acid, and his muscles were all strung taut, shivering with the effort of holding himself back. He'd look like a total idiot if he flung himself off the bed, only to crash and fall because of the shackles.

Stark was standing before him, just out of reach, with his head down and his shoulders slumped. A pang of emotion assaulted Shiro's overworked mind as he couldn't help but mourn the English teacher he's spent so much time with recently. He'd only known Stark for a brief period in his life, but the man had been there during some of his hardest challenges thus far. He had taught Shiro things he'd never dreamed he could learn. But most of all he had cared. Or at least pretended to care.

Stark's fingers fumbled with a cigarette and lighter, he brought the death-stick up to his lips and ignited a flame at the tip, taking a long drag of smoke, holding it in, before letting the smoke come tumbling out of his lips and nostrils.

"Mrs Fukishima is on maternity leave for the next 9 months so I'd like to introduce your new English teacher. Please welcome Coyote Stark with all the respect he is due."

A tall man with shoulder length brown hair and a goatee came into the room. He stared at the class dispassionately before his eyes rested on Ichigo and his lips twitched upwards.

He was probably no older than 25, fresh out of college. A rookie, Shiro mused. Rookie teachers always had it the worst and this guy looked exceptionally exploitable.

He almost felt like laughing as he thought back on his first thoughts of Stark. To think he'd thought the man exploitable? What a joke. Shiro had been the one exploited in the end.

"Just what do you think you were doing, coming on to a little boy like that! You pedophile!" Shiro growled. Stark had the decency to look sheepish as he raised his hands in defense.
"Technically, he's not a little boy, he's 17, that's legally old enough to engage in 'activities'"

"Shiro! Mr Stark! What's going on? What are you talking about!" Ichigo had appeared between them, shooting questioning glances back and forth.

"He wanted to have sex with you!" Shiro accused.

"Still want to have sex with you." Stark corrected.

Ichigo just blinked in confusion.

Good times those… in fact Shiro kind of missed the perverted Stark he'd first gotten to know. The one that ground his gears and challenged his dominancy, the insufferable, lazy sleazebag who wouldn't cease hitting on his brother.

He wondered now, with said sleazebag standing before him, if he ever really knew Coyote Stark? Was the whole incompetent teacher persona simply an act? Did he ever really care or was he just following orders?

"Just one little fight and I'll never ask again." Zaraki was excited now; the bloodlust was thick in the air.

"Fine, but I wont be held responsible for any respect you lose from your students." Stark took off his overcoat, leaving him in a white dress shirt and slacks, before he made his way to the mat.

"Is that a threat?" Zaraki called, as they stood opposite each other on the mat.

"No it's a warning. Are you ready?" Stark still had his hands in his pockets as he eyed the big man through one eye. Zaraki raised his fists and charged in response.

It was over in an instant, Shiro might have been the only person in the class who caught what really happened. One second Zaraki was pummeling towards the English teacher, the next he was sprawled on the floor.

Stark really had been the strongest man he'd ever met. Nobody else could move like he did. Nobody he'd ever fought could utterly destroy Zaraki the way he had. But now, the thought of his strength was only serving to feed Shiro's bloodlust. He'd sworn he would defeat Stark, multiple times, so after he'd done that, was ripping his still beating heart from his chest really such a big step to take? Murder was only one step further than beating a man to the ends of his life.

"So this is the price you're asking for your assistance? This is the price of strength?" He snarled, breathing heavily as he was forced further back, until Stark leant over him, with one leg between his own, And their breaths mingled. The man's smoky, musky, lips were right next to his own, only an inch from taking them.

"Your just as hot as your brother you know, if not more." He mused, trailing a finger down the albino's snow-white neck. "Just a little feisty. Loose some of that headstrong pride, and violent tendencies and I'd fuck you into oblivion. " Stark chuckled. Suddenly, he pulled away; leaving the panting teen sprawled backwards over the desk.

"Your gorgeous, but not really my type. Too intimidating and intense." He muttered, running a hand through his hair. " I don't think you could pull off a halfway good uke impression."

Shiro shot bolt upright, glaring for all he was worth at his teacher. "Damn I fucking hate you!" he growled.

The teacher only chuckled at his student's disheveled hair and shirt.

"Aw, did I get you all hot and bothered?" he mocked.

An odd memory to mourn the Stark he knew over, and one he'd rather forget entirely, but it was there nonetheless, and only fuelled his raging inferno of anger.

"I'll train you to take on these guys. Keep in mind that I wouldn't mind some compensation for my efforts, and there will be a condition. "

"What's the condition?" Shiro gulped.
"Don't smoke anymore, stay in school, and pass your tests." Then Stark abruptly turned and walked out of the room.

Another odd memory of the moment Stark had chosen to train him. The man used very… unconventional training methods, but in the long run it had worked out okay, and he had proved himself a good teacher.

"You're too sloppy! Be more graceful!" Stark yelled, from where he was slouched over the gymnasiums grandstand, bottle in one hand and cigarettes in the other.

"Why am I even doing this!-?" Shiro screeched back, "This is the stupidest form of training I've ever seen! And you're the worst teacher I've ever seen!"

He ducked just in time to avoid being hit in the forehead by M&M's before carefully dodging most of the next batch, which sailed past him in a brilliant rainbow of colors.

"This is training! I've told you, when you can dodge these M&M's as fast as I'm throwing them, then we'll move on to something different." Stark retorted, shoving the next handful of chocolate into his mouth. "Besides, " he continued, mouth full of chocolate. "It's not my fault I don't have the energy to do anything like that! Its yours!"

"How the hell's that!-?" the albino yelled back, as he jumped frantically side to side, attempting to dodge the chocolates.

"Ever since you told me about your special relationship with Ichigo, my sleeping pattern is all fucked up! I have these dreams about you two getting it on, and then I have to wake up and relieve myself! I wake up like five times a night because of you! Why did you have to tell me you two were intimate! You've ruined my life!" Stark yelled, shoving more chocolate into his mouth as he shed crocodile tears.

"I DIDN'T WANT TO KNOW THAT YOU STUPID PERVERT TEACHER!"

Very odd training methods indeed….

"Oh boys… stop that…" Stark giggled, curling into the taxi's seat, before giggling again and rolling towards Shiro, his arms reaching out to grab him, while his lips stretched out as if to place a kiss. The teen almost retched in disgust as he desperately warded the groping hands away, his annoyance levels shooting through the roof as veins popped all over his forehead.

"Oh, Shiroooo, Ichiiii… we're in school! You cant touch me there!" he wheezed, now leaning fully over the struggling teen, salivating on his shoulder and hands groping muscled chest and thigh, before Shiro's patience hit rock bottom. With both his feet he sent the man crashing into the other side of the cab, where his head impacted with the glass and he slumped against the door.

"Its not what you think!" Shiro frantically excused. "He's just drunk."

Was it really possible the Stark he knew was a lie? That everything they went through together was an act?

Shiro kicked the teacher out of the car, dragging him by the ear toward the front door of the house. He rang the doorbell, tapping his foot as he waited. Soon enough the door swung open violently, revealing a short, angry preteen with light green hair, arranged in a very basic manner, and pink eyes. She answered the door in her underwear, apparently not phased by cold weather in the slightest.

"What!-?" She growled, glaring at him with her hands on her hips.

"Your old man." He yanked the man forward, handing him to his daughter by the scruff of his collar.

"Who are you!-?" she asked, and he stopped to regard her again before answering.

"Shiro Kurosaki." He said.

"Why were you with my old man?" She cocked her hip to the side.

"None of your business, ask him when he wakes up." He turned a cold shoulder on the inappropriately dressed girl.

'So he's a terrible teacher, a terrible father, a pervert, an alcoholic and a smoker.' He mused in annoyance, 'Why do I have to be trained by such a troublesome guy?'

Would the man really lie about his own daughter? Really fake all his flaws? Of which there were many.

Suddenly the most painful of his memories chose to rear its ugly head. They say the plainest and smallest snakes are the ones with the most venom, and the simplest of injuries can cause the most pain.

They say 'sticks and stones can break your bones but words can never hurt you.' -Well that was a complete lie. Words could sting more than any physical wound ever could. Shiro never thought himself a sensitive, emotional or sappy person, but some words could wedge themselves into even the coldest of hearts. How many injuries had he sustained, living up to his mothers promise? Every wound he'd taken for Ichigo had been thanks to those simple words she'd spoken all those years ago. If she'd never said them, if her throat had been too congested with blood to speak, or she'd died a little bit sooner, would he still even be who he was today?

He'd be a selfish asshole, living alone, hating himself and the world.

Of course, he still hated himself, if not more so than he ever had before those words. But he found there were some beautiful things in the world too. Meeting Grimmjow, Neliel and Tia in middle school… Fighting… Sex… and of course, Ichigo.

The promise he'd made to protect Ichigo, had long since become his own. It wasn't about fulfilling some stupid pledge to a woman long dead anymore. It never had been. She'd never even fucking know if he had kept it or not because she was fucking dead. He'd accepted it on a whim, and kept it for his own personal goals…. It had started of as curiosity, and then grew to including something like love, and gradually, without even realising it, he had let people into his heart.

"How's your training with Stark-sensei going?" Ichigo asked, making casual conversation as they walked to school.
"It's been a week, and I've gotten heaps stronger, so it's going okay…" He muttered back.

"So you like Stark-sensei now?" His brother replied.

"No, why would you think that!-?" He barked.

Ichigo chuckled, looking him over knowingly. "You don't say bad stuff about him all the time now, I can tell you like him."

Shiro growled, diverting his eyes, "He's still a pervert…" he muttered.

It wasn't an astounding memory filled with heartfelt revelations. But it was a defining moment in time; the moment he had finally let stark into his heart. Dared to consider the man a comrade, dared to trust him, and dared to think of him as a… friend.

But that didn't matter now because Stark was just like all the rest of them; lying, traitorous scum. In a fit of anger that he'd been stoking with memories, Shiro lunged off the bed just enough to grab Starks dress shirt and yank him towards the feather mattress. His teacher would have been proud by how fast he moved, how precise and accurate his attack was and how quickly he had Stark pinned beneath him on the mattress.

But his teacher was dead, so it didn't matter.

"WHY!-?" he growled, straddling the mans chest in his underwear and snarling like a threatened cat right in the brunette's face, gripping the collar of his shirt with clenched fists. "Why go to such fucking efforts to deceive? You fucking traitor! I fucking trusted you, and ONLY you! I thought you fucking loved Ichigo, so why would you sell him out like that!-? Why did you fucking lie to me!" Shiro yelled, his words all strung together with rage and despair. His hands shook in Stark's shirt material, but even he didn't know if they were itching to hit him or to cry.

Tears were gathering in his eyes, his whole body convulsed and shivered, and his eyes shone like magma and twinkled like gold. Stark could have moved, he could have moved his hands and thrown Shiro to the side, or punched the teen. Even without his hands the man could have used his body weight to tip the other over and pin him to the bed. But he didn't.

The intense sorrow in the teacher's eyes had only grown stronger, and he winced with every stabbing word that lunged from Shiro's mouth.

Even his hastily flung words weren't enough to capture his rage. The albino could see how they hurt Stark, and he revelled in it. Seeing Stark wince and tremble beneath him was joyous, an all he wanted was to cause more pain.

"FUCKING ANSWER ME!" Shiro screamed, and when Stark didn't make a single move to reply, he let his shaking fists whirl. It was so satisfying, to hear the crack of Starks jaw, and the pained gasp that spilled from the man's lips; lips he'd almost kissed.

"Don't you have anything to fucking say?" Shiro growled, disgusted. His eyes narrowed at the pitiful look in cloudy grey eyes. Golden eyes narrowed as he noticed the difference between Stark's piercing steel gaze, filled with determination, and the cloudy grey storm that brewed in his orbs now. So much pain and suffering was buried in them now, dredged to the surface by harsh stabs. But Shiro couldn't bring himself to feel a shred of pity.

Stark had fucking lied. Betrayed him and Ichigo. Sold them out. He was a dead man.

Shiro found two guns in Stark's holsters, beautiful antiques, with intricate designs of silver lilies embellishing the sides. The name of his daughter was carved in cursive script across the barrel.

Another, painful wave of déjà vu assaulted him as he admired them.

"All gangsters handle guns." Stark drawled lazily, "especially Aizen's top dogs; so if you don't want to get shot again, your going to learn a bit about them." Stark's smirk could only be described as sadistic; and it sent a shiver of fear down Shiro's spine. The twin pistols he picked seemed to look so perfect in his teachers grip.

He'd seen stark holding these guns before; the ones that looked as if they were a part of his soul. He wondered, with sadistic humour of his own, how Stark felt about being shot by his own guns. The guns he'd named after his daughter. Killed by a part of his own soul.

He cocked them both in his two hands, just like Stark had taught him, and pressed one, loaded and ready, to his teacher's temple. The other he dug between the man's legs to threaten the appendage he'd sucked on before.

The fear that convulsed in Starks eyes was delicious, like a whimpering puppy begging for it's life, Starks lips began to move, but no sound came out. His eyes were wide and pleading. Shiro licked his lips and smiled wickedly at the man he'd once admired.

"Say your last words, sensei"


A/N- that's like… 9000 fucking words, longest chapter yet. So, thoughts? Do you think Stark deserves to die just yet? ;)

I was really tempted to give Tousen a dog named justice, so he could say, 'Justice, retreat.' 'halt, justice.' 'sick 'em, justice' and basically use a whole bunch of commands. 'JUSTICE SQUAD! ATTACK!' but anyway, wonderweiss should make a cute dog. ;)

Thanks for your time! Please leave a review! :D