Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
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11.
Aizen watched from the door as Gin held Rukia close in the cold darkness of his throne room, her eyes wide with devotion and love as he kissed her with more than just familial warmth.
His attack on Soul Society was almost ready. He had every Menos prepared for battle, every Espada had a job to do. He himself would wait until the time was right to attack, and then unleash all of his power.
And who better to lead the assault than his innocent, battle-ready children?
He knew they would follow his every command. They had been under his spell for years, the hypnosis convincing them that they were sleeping in lavish chambers, when in reality they were sleeping in cold, dank cells with enough food to keep them alive and healthy, though they were hardly having daily feasts.
When they played—especially in Ichigo's case—it was in the catacombs of Las Noches, spy cameras surveying their every move. Aizen had been kind and had even built them a playroom: a large white room with a couch on one end, where Aizen and Gin would sit in amusement, and a toy box filled with white blocks, cardboard tubes, and several sheets of cloth. It was amazing how detailed the hypnosis was. The children didn't suspect a thing. Their mind and bodies were telling them they lived in the lap of luxury, no matter how ragged their clothes became or how many dark stares they received.
Aizen had vowed to give them real luxury when he became King. He would dress them in the finest kimonos he could buy, feed them on only the best food, the creamiest milk, the sweetest cake. The entire Soul Society would be their playground, and they would be eternally grateful to their beloved Papa and Uncles.
And eventually, if Ichigo and Uryuu died—as they obviously would, they were only human—Aizen decided they would die in his loving arms. Then Rukia and Renji would shed tears for their "brothers" but in the end overcome their grief, and love their little family even more.
Gin smirked and began to carry Rukia to his bedroom, winking at Aizen as Rukia clung to him, burrowing her head in his shoulder. Normally Aizen would have said it was far to early for that sort of thing, but today Aizen simply smiled. His little daughter needed an embrace from her Uncle Gin, to make it all better…
But he worried—the boys were such impressionable little things at this stage. The last thing Aizen wanted was to become a grandfather at this critical time.
Ichigo tugged at his sleeve, his expression curious. "Papa, where'd Rukia go?" he asked innocently.
Aizen smiled and scooped him up, placing him on his shoulders. "Uncle Gin wanted to comfort her. Why don't I play with you for awhile, since Uncle Gin's busy?"
Ichigo grinned. "Sure! You can be the Soul Reaper we have to defeat to save Rukia, okay?"
Aizen nodded, and Ichigo whooped with delight. He looked rather odd with a lanky teen giggling like a child on his shoulders, his expression carefree. Aizen couldn't believe this was the boy who had given him so much trouble in the past.
"Papa?" Ichigo asked suddenly in a soft voice.
Aizen gazed up at him. "Yes, son?"
"You'll always be with us, right?"
Aizen ruffled the boy's orange hair playfully, his expression serene. "Of course, son."
