I knew it was a mistake the second the words left my mouth.
Aizen-sama had merely glanced at me dispassionately, then turned to Tousen-fukutaichou. "Who is this?"
"This is Ichimaru Gin, taichou," said the vice-captain. "He's the one Matsumoto Rangiku recommended for the second internship position."
"Is that so? I suppose I will have to re-evaluate later."
"I... I apologize for barging in, sirs," I had stammered and tried to back out of the office. "I didn't know-"
"Take him to the lockdown area downstairs," Aizen-sama had said coolly. He hadn't looked at me as Tousen grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the office. "I will deal with him when I'm done processing the paperwork."
The vice-captain followed orders to the letter. I sat in the cell, trying to figure out what insanity had possessed me to dash into his office in the day without even checking to see if he was alone. And to actually demand that he explain himself...
"I must have gone out of my mind," I groaned into my hands. What happened last night must have had screwed up my mental capabilities.
The faint but steady tread of feet stirred me to the here and now.
I saw Tousen first, who led me out of my cell but bound my wrists with kido. Then I saw him, implacable, stern, wearing the mask of a righteous man. "Aizen-taichou, I apologize, I-"
"Take him there, Tousen. You know the place."
"Yes taichou."
Soon we were in the backyard of Aizen's captain quarters. A rack had been set up there and grimly I understood I was to be punished.
No matter. I can take pain.
When the fifth division captain reappeared before my eyes I was already manacled to the metal structure. He sat on a sturdy chair before me, and the reflection of light from his glasses obscured his eyes.
"You are Ichimaru Gin?"
"Yes, Aizen-taichou."
He rested his arms on the arms of the chair. "Tousen, remove his top. I don't want him to have to deal with a bloodied kimono after the disciplining."
Blood? That would mean wounds... But I can take wounds. No problem.
The vice-captain inclined his head. "How many?"
"Five for trespassing division property. Just for starters."
I braced myself. The first stinging blow came from a lash as thick as Aizen's thumb, and I knew I hissed with every strike.
He then leaned back. There was no expression on his coldly calculating face. "Ten for bypassing proper interview channels."
Tousen was not merciful; every lash felt as if it had struck clear to the bone. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. I gulped back the burning stings.
"Ten for barging into my office while I was in a conference."
"Taichou-" Tousen began, but stopped. He took a deep breath – and swung his arm down.
I stopped myself from crying out by biting into my lower lip. By the eighth lash I could taste a lot of blood in my mouth.
Aizen-sama pushed up the bridge of his glasses. "Five for impertinence."
I shut off my breathing. I knew that tears had gathered behind my eyes, and I knew of the blood that traced down my body and my back.
I also knew he had no intention of stopping the lashing until he was satisfied.
"And now, for actually having the audacity to demand classified information from me..." Aizen-sama folded his hands together, like the gentleman he was, "lash him. Ten times."
I could feel every lash even though there was probably no undamaged nerve left on my back to feel with. How was it possible to feel through the haze of dizziness and numbness?
"Again."
Ehhgh. Not gonna scream. Never gonna scream.
"Again."
Uhhngh. Not gonna cry. Never gonna cry.
"Again."
Nnghagh. Not gonna scream. Never gonna scream.
"Again.
I might have fainted; next thing I knew my arm was draped across his broad shoulders and he was heading for the bedroom.
When he tossed me onto the bed it felt as if my back was set on fire. I wanted to sit up, to lift the pressure off my back, but he held me down. Nevertheless, I had to know.
"Ai-aizen-sama...You... you haven't a-answered me. Why... why did you interview Ran?"
He ignored my question, as he had done earlier. "And you haven't learned your lesson."
What lesson am I supposed to learn now?
He ripped off the rest of my clothes. Each tug, each pull tore my wounds open just that little bit further. Yet I held on to the present; I didn't wish to sink into unconsciousness. I still had that small part of clarity in me to realize he had stripped himself as well – probably to avoid getting blood on his clothes.
Gods, the stinging numbness of my back... I tried to turn on my side but he clipped me across the jaw. It didn't hurt much, but I understood and swallowed the pain.
"I fear you might have received the wrong impression from me, Gin." He placed his fingertips together, looking thoughtful. He still had his glasses on. "I think you believe our relationship is something other than what it is. And to help you remember what our relationship really is about..."
He reached under the bed.
No. No, no no no... not the box. I knew the contents well; I had tested them out last week.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
All of them, even the little vial. And Aizen-sama had restricted the use of the vial's contents. "No more than one drop, Gin," he had said seriously. "I don't want to try explaining why I have a cold burn on the inside of my thigh to Unohana."
"Is it that strong?" I had asked. Cautiously I tipped the vial until one glistening drop coalesced on the tip, and I watched with bated breath as it fell. Aizen-sama had shivered – the unflappable, fearless Aizen-sama, shivering from one single drop – as the drop seared white into his skin, and he had actually blanched with pain as the drop rolled down his inner thigh. By the time the drop was absorbed into the bedsheet, Aizen-sama had been drenched with sweat and panting like he'd just completed a marathon.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
He rummaged in it a little, playing out the line. I hoped he'd choose the matches. Or the candles.
Not that I liked it hot any more than cold, but if even Aizen-sama had that sort of reaction... "Aizen-sama..."
"Uh-uh-uh. I did not ask you to speak. Let's see... what do we have here? The four basic groups…" he said. I remembered the lesson: hot, cold, sharp, blunt. Four basic classes of torture implements.
He'll pick the one that hurts most. I knew my face paled.
He picked out the matches.
Starter course.
"Describe our relationship, Gin. What sort of relationship do you think we have?"
We are lovers. "We... you are my leader and I am your follower."
He knew I was lying and lit a match. The little flame blazed and died on my skin. He flicked a glance at it before asking again, "So, Gin, what sort of relationship do you think we have? Who am I to you?"
"You're my t-teacher." My breath caught; the slow burn of my raw back was turning into a raging inferno with every minute.
"Nice try." He dropped two more matches on two of my most sensitive spots. I yelped. He hissed softly, "That is the last scream you make, until I say otherwise. Or I will personally add thirty lashes per scream you make. Is that clear?"
No more lashes. I don't even have a back left. I nodded to show compliance. Perhaps I should tell the truth.
"Now, tell the truth, Gin. Who am I to you, really?"
The truth. "... my lover. We... we are lovers."
"Smart boy." He took my weak hand. I closed my eyes and breathed as steadily as I could. This was gonna hurt like hell. "But that means..."
I knew it was coming, but the shock of agony that darted through my veins sent my other fingers convulsing and my eyes rolling back in my head. I screamed when he broke another finger.
"If you think of me as your lover, that would mean we are equals. Which... is patently wrong." He left his hand that had just caressed me over my heart.
I could feel it hammering against my ribs. Before I could force myself to calm down searing hot reiatsu skewered my limbs to the bed. I didn't scream – because I couldn't. I knew I had spittle spraying from me as I cried out silently.
And the most intense pain came from the hand pinning my chest to the bed – he had spiked fiery reiatsu through my torso. My head was spinning, I was feeling nauseous... I knew this feeling.
I know this feeling.
He pulled me away from the bed with my hair. I tried to focus; my vision swam. I could feel the tear of muscle in my arms and legs.
He was there, but he was a blur. He said something... what did he say? He sounded muffled. I wanted to hear better. What did he say? "Please...please."
Was that from me?
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
"Please. Please, let me through. My mum's in there."
There were too many of them. I swallowed, trying not to let my nervousness show. I just wanted my mum and I to leave. But where was she?
I pushed my way through the thick crowd until I saw her kneeling before a large, bald man. He had a fearsome scar across one eye and a crooked nose. For an instant I shrank back, but when he slapped my mother I darted forward.
No one hurts my mum.
I didn't bargain for another man to grab me and lift me off the ground. I flailed about helplessly, screaming, "Mum! Let go of me! MUM!!"
"Who's this now?" the large man asked. He stank. I could smell his stink from where I was. He peered closely at me. "Who's this pretty little boy now?"
"He's... he's my son." My mother shot one quick look at me, then returned to tugging on the large man's sleeve. "Please. Please, just one more shot. One more. You won't even miss it."
The large man nodded and I was set on the ground. Terrified I ran to my mother and clung to her skinny frame. The large man grinned, showing three gold teeth. I buried my face in my mother's silver hair.
"He's prettier than you, bitch."
I knew that was not a good word. "How can he say that about you, mum?" I whispered fiercely into her ear.
"Hush," she silenced me. Her eyes were large and haunted, the dark circles more prominent than ever. "Boss is a very, very... very kind man. He's very nice."
"Yes I am," the large man – Boss – agreed.
I still refused to let go of my mother, but she pushed me aside. Stroking my hair, she wasn't looking at me as she said, "Be quiet now."
I bit my lower lip. Maybe this Boss person was nice, like my mum said he was.
"A week's supply, in exchange." He leaned back in the seat.
I looked at Mum. She was twisting her thin hands together, the knuckles white. She was still shaking, as she had been doing since last morning.
Boss looked at me again.
I didn't like him looking at me. It made me feel like I had worms under my skin, and I felt like scrubbing myself clean in the river.
My mother reached for my hands and she climbed shakily to her feet. Slowly we made our way out of the crowd.
I thought it'd be nice to go to the market to see if we could get some fruit, and I was saying so when Boss called out, "Two weeks' supply."
Mum stopped walking. I tugged on her hand; I wanted out of this strange, smoky place, with so many big men looking, all the time. She let her silver hair fall in front of her face when she looked at me.
"Gin-chan," she said, caressing my cheeks. "Gin-chan, be good now. Will you be good for mummy?"
"Of course," I nodded fiercely.
"Good boy." She looked at Boss and nodded slowly. One of the big men gave her a large package, then held out a hand to me. Mum put my hand in the big man's. I drew my hand away. She said again, "Be good now. You're a big boy already."
"Mum?" I didn't know what was going on; the big man grabbed my left wrist hard enough to hurt. "Mum? Mummy? Where are you going? What's going on?"
"Gin-chan, darling, mummy's gonna... Mummy's gonna get some food for us, okay?" she said. Her eyes were looking everywhere else but at me. "Boss is gonna... he's gonna look after you while I'm g-gone. Be good, Gin-chan. Be good."
"Mum?!" I shrieked as she ascended the steps. Something was desperately wrong.
She stopped at the top of the steps. I struggled to free myself from the big man holding me now. She turned back, crying, panting. "Goodbye, Gin-chan. Be a good boy for mummy." Then she turned and ran out of the den.
"Mummy? MUMMY?!"
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
Hands. Too many hands. Then came the hurt. A lot of hurt. Then the pain; red hot pokers; the choking, the screaming. And there were others...
My eyes fluttered open.
A gloved hand. A glittering vial.
Pretty... pretty colors.
I hurt.
I want out. I want out of here. I want to find my mother, to get out of this place where I can smell blood, and smoke, to return to her. Even if we have to go hungry for the rest of my life... I want out. Now.
Someone was holding me down. I twisted, I thrashed about, I fought desperately; I wanted out.
Someone let me up. Someone cradled me against warm, soft skin; someone embraced me and stroked my hair; someone removed the cloth stuck to my back... why did my back hurt?
I blinked. There were tears; my mouth was dry from heavy breathing. I tried not to gag. He was looking at me. Dark brown eyes, compassionate, gentle, loving eyes, behind black-framed glasses. He looked concerned.
Who is this man?
Where am I?
"I hope you've learned your lesson, Gin."
What lesson? What's going on?
I breathed in shakily and shut my eyes. I felt his tender lips on my forehead, pressing a kiss on me.
Aizen-sama. This is Aizen-sama. He'll make things right. I'm with Aizen-sama. Oh gods...
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I'm sorry." I murmured against his warm, welcoming skin. I didn't know what I was sorry for, but there was overwhelming guilt that surfaced from the base of my stomach to my trembling lips. "I-I'm sorry, sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."
I was safe. He was here.
I tried not to tremble with relief, but was failing miserably.
He was here. I was safe.
My arms looped about his waist, and suddenly tears rolled out of my eyes.
I had not cried since the day my mother left me for dead.
He soothed me, his fingers stroking my damp skin.
He was here.
I was here.
He would keep me safe.
I would be safe. I had to be.
Then a scream ripped my throat raw when liquid fire exploded over my back.