Chapter Sixty:

The moon was eternally high in the Hueco Mundo sky, yet it was edging closer to a full moon with each twenty four hour period. A few scattering stars twinkled amidst the inky canopy, and almost entirely translucent clouds subtly obscured the pale white light for a spattering of seconds before it cascaded down through the open balcony windows again, falling upon exposed planes of cream skin and snowy hair.

Shiro was sound asleep, sprawled amidst the high quality sheets and plump pillows of the imperial sized bed in the King's Suite. There were faint bruises blossoming across his hips and throat, but they had already been diminished by his high speed regeneration. By morning they'd be little more that smudge marks against his skin.

Sat up, back resting against the headboard, Aizen was flicking through some paperwork. It was aimless, fitful, he couldn't concentrate. Before long the bundle of paper was set aside, and a long sigh escaped the brunet's lips. Dark chocolate eyes slowly moved from where his hands rested on his lap, to the sleeping Cero Espada beside him.

He winced, visibly. Not an action he was used to making, and yet it slipped free regardless. He found his mind wandering, trailing back several hours. Recounting their evening meal, their conversation, their passion afterwards. He wasn't entirely prepared for the sinking feeling in his gut when he considered the words spoken between them in the aftermath of orgasm.

It had been an indulgence, a... A reckless slip. To actually speak the words, to give life to Shiro's hopes and dreams. To confirm that what lingered between them was more than simple lust. He had not intended to do so, he had never intended to say it. He wasn't even sure it was true.

Did he share the feelings of the Cero Espada? He had never thought himself capable of something as... Dangerous as love. It was folly, a weakness, an exploitable vulnerable spot for his enemies to make good use of. He had severed all such feelings long ago, during his childhood. He had felt no love for his parents, his family, his peers. He had strived for perfection, for academic acceleration, for success.

He had used people, manipulated them, broken them to achieve his goals. He'd felt no shame, no regret. It was simple business. A transaction. Sex had always been a transaction. A stress relief, a means of control, a means of bringing to a knee those who might have otherwise been troublesome. Indeed, it had even been that way with Ichigo. He'd never met anyone capable of withstanding his... Aggression, who seemed to revel in it, seemed to gain some genuine form of enjoyment from it. On his side of things, Ichigo had been the perfect person to be by his side. He was powerful, beautiful, intelligent, willing to act, willing to kill, willing to be whatever he wanted.

Who knows when the infatuation had begun, the need to see him, touch him, have him. Byakuya... Had called it love, but surely it had never been that. Love wasn't cruel, was it? Love was kind and warm... A comfort to crawl home to. No. He was a monster, incapable of such things. It was infatuation at best. Obsession.

That was what he'd believed, what he'd truly and honestly thought. Until... More recently.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Aizen slowly pushed the sheets back and got up, pulling on a loose robe as he wandered into the main room of the Suite. He sat at his desk, drumming his fingers across the wood.

Things had changed. He could still recall the deep set horror of seeing Ulquiorra trying to murder Ichigo, the blood splattering the sand, the sight of a broken body. The immense, thick reiatsu of Shiro breaking forward, surging, carrying, lifting. The Hollow had risen, halted death, saved the day. And yes, at first, he had been disappointed. The sight of the albino, that wild cardinal smile, glinting eyes that held promise and danger, wild and rabid and free. He had wanted the more restrained, controlled, ice cold malice of Ichigo, the violence and murder, the wilful deception... Yes, he had been disappointed.

And yet, somehow... This feral white beast had burrowed into his skull, his chest. Strong, beautiful, wild, unhinged and yet lucid. This creature was of his own creation, a monster born of his desire for an equal, his desire to... His desire to shake off the bonds of loneliness. Someone as strong as him, that was what he'd longed for.

A shaky breath broke free and Aizen gulped it back, teeth clenching as he flexed his fingers.

Disappointment had faded, replaced by a contentment to see how Shiro did. To see how he blended among the Espada. He had watched, through the cameras, the feeds, through Gin and Tōsen, he had learned. Shiro had tried to temper himself, tried to lessen his wild side, tried to fit in, to prove he could lead. He had tried so hard and yet the Espada were closed books. False smiles and fake gestures of kindness, a rebuttal against Shiro's madness. They would never openly accept him as one of their own.

Upon realising that he had been... Sad. Another emotion most foreign to him, and yet it washed over him like a tidal surge. He'd watched as Shiro would return to his room, sink into the sofa and sit. The glum expression on his face, the downturned lips, the dullness in his eyes.

He recognised that loneliness.

And yet, Shiro persisted, kept trying. Kept throwing himself into his duties. Never wavering. And through that resilient determination, Aizen saw him for what he was. Real, powerful, elegant... Perfect.

More than that, though, wasn't it?

There was a subtle creek near the double doors at the entrance to the King's Suite, brown eyes narrowed immediately to peer at the darkened shadows lingering there.

"What do you want Gin?" His voice was rough, not entirely crafted like he'd usually like.

"Ne, Aizen Taichou, how do ya always know?" Gin's scoff was teasing, drawn out as he stepped out of the shadows and slowly crossed the room, perching on the edge of the desk like it was his right.

Aizen stared at the silver haired fox. His co-conspirator, his former protégé, the thorn in his side. He'd watched Gin grow up, just like he'd watched Ichigo grow up. And yet while Ichigo had become someone he'd enjoyed the company of... Gin remained a serpent, untrustworthy and almost as manipulative as he was himself. He did not trust Gin. He never had. But he had his uses.

"You give yourself away too easily." The brunet muttered as he stood up, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked towards the nearby window and peered out, "What do you want?"

"Heh, wanted to confirm our trip to find Espada replacements. Ya got everything ready?" The silver haired Shinigami hummed.

"Yes, everything is ready. We leave next week. Although..." Dark eyes flicked to the open bedroom doors, he could still see Shiro's pearlescent skin, "I may invite Shiro to join us."

"Eh?" Head cocking to one side, Gin opened his eyes a fraction, "Don't ya need him runnin' things here while we're gone? Is it... Wise to take him too?"

"I am sure Barragan can manage things for a week, it won't inflate his ego too much." A shrug, "Besides, it would be good for him to be part of the recruiting process. A learning curve."

"Well... Far be it from me to question ya, Aizen Taichou... But ain't he just as likely to kill the recruits as actually help them?"

The former Division Five Taichou chuckled, an amused smile curving at the corners of his lips, "You are quite right. He is. But he deserves some entertainment once in a while. I can't blame him for his instincts."

Gin's eyebrows quirked in surprise, "Ne... That's not an expression I expected to see from ya..."

Clearing his throat, Aizen glared at his lieutenant, "I fail to see how it is your business."

"Ya don't wanna leave him do ya?" The other man smirked suddenly, "Has he got under ya skin? Ya feeling protective? Don't wanna leave him with the mean Espada?"

A low growl escaped the back of his throat, but he merely closed his eyes and turned his back on the fox, flexing his fingers again as he considered whether to even respond or not. He was silent for almost an entire five minutes before he looked around at Gin, expression like stone.

"Things... Are different now." He said simply, turning so he could stride up to his second in command, allowing his reiatsu to flick out like a wicked tongue, a warning, "Shiro... Is different now. I am different now. That is all you need to be aware of."

Pale blue eyes opened fully, seemingly assessing how much he could get away with, Gin tilted his head, scanning the imposing form in front of him, "I understand, Aizen Taichou."

"I am glad to hear it." Aizen drew his reiatsu away, sucking in a small breath before he returned to his desk, "But... You may be right, the Espada have been on edge as of late. Shiro should remain here, maintain order. I can at least trust him to keep things running properly. Pity..."

His eyes were drawn towards the bedroom again, fingers tapping resonantly against the chair arm, he longed to return to bed. To slip an arm around the sleeping albino, to pull him close. He could indulge in that now. There were, almost, no secrets between them anymore.

Shiro was the equal he had created, so perhaps it made sense that he could trust him. He could... It was still too hard to think the word, let alone say it. For now, he simply hoped the albino would be sated by knowing his feelings were returned. Not ignored. Not unfounded.

He found himself envying Byakuya, just a little. As stoic and silent and subtle as the Kuchiki heir was, he had not hesitated to open his heart to Ichigo, even after the pain of losing his wife, he had been almost eager to bare his Soul again, to someone far more dangerous and wildly than Hisana had ever been. What was it that gave the nobleman such strength? What gave him such courage?

Was it courage? It couldn't be, for Aizen was no coward. Was it strength? It couldn't be, for Aizen was stronger than all.

"What would ya be willing' to do for him, Aizen Taichou?" Gin asked, arms folded as he leaned on the desk, peering into the bedroom as well.

His first instinct was to berate his subordinate, to order him to leave so he no longer had to deal with his probing, but he held his tongue and instead... Instead he took a risk.

"At this moment in time? I believe I would consider doing almost anything for him." He held his head high, despite the momentary churning in his gut, "I have waited a long time for someone like him, and while for a time I believed Ichigo was suitable... I was wrong."

"A rare occurrence for ya." The silver haired fox murmured.

"Yes. And yet not the first where he is concerned." A small shrugging motion followed the statement, "Ichigo held many traits and abilities which would have served us well, had he reached here and become the Cero Espada as intended, however, I have since learned that we would also have missed out on a great deal. Indeed, Shiro holds many of the same traits and abilities, as well as many more besides."

"But it's not just about their talents anymore, huh?"

"You're observant, as ever." He muttered, closing his eyes, "No, it is not just about that. It is... How would you say it... Personal."

"I see." The response was incredibly simple, and yet somehow Gin's tone held no judgement within it's carefully structured depths, "It's strange, and yet I actually believe ya."

"Yes, it is strange." The brunet chuckled softly under his breath, "You may go Gin. We shall proceed as planned in the coming week. Shiro will remain here to run Las Noches in my absence. Relay that to Tōsen."

"Yes, sir." Gin offered a small, rare bow before he left the room and Aizen found himself wondering if his subordinate would view him differently.

He didn't care.

Sucking in another breath, he slowly rose from his seat and made the short journey across the room, lingering in the bedroom doorway, he leaned against the frame and watched Shiro. The albino was so peaceful when asleep, losing all of the turmoil and tremulous expectation, finding release from the heavy burden of insanity. He felt tingles of regret, on occasion, wondering if Shiro's madness came from the emotional effects of the first order he had received.

Surely, murdering his hosts family would have left a scar, a deep scar upon his mentality. Had it broken him? Was this shattered amalgamation of crazy and frivolity the result of having pieced himself back together?

Or, was his insanity a symptom of being created, and left unnamed? It was something they had discussed briefly in the past, Shiro being forced to name himself, a hint of resentment at not being given what he deserved at 'birth'. Aizen regretted it, he did. He should have taken the time to at least help the Hollow learn who he was. What would he have called him though? Without an understanding of his personality, his motivations, his very being... What would he have called him?

He felt his throat tighten momentarily, watching as the pure white creature in his bed rolled over onto his back, lingering only for a fleeting second before he curled up onto his side, arms pulling a pillow into his chest to cradle. Long hair pooled around the Cero's face, almost masking his deep sleep smile entirely.

"You're falling."

Aizen tensed, jaw clenching as Kyoka Suigetsu's subtle soprano trailed fingers through his skull. There was no accusation or disapproval. Just simple observation.

"It may be a little more than that." He responded quietly, biting down on his tongue until he tasted iron.

"More than the strawberry?"

He sighed, glancing towards the open balcony doors again, the idea; the memory of sun-kissed skin, vibrant sunset coloured hair and chestnut eyes was a pleasant one. It was warm, all encompassing, suffocating. He would always miss it, at least a little.

But. And it was a big but, the sight and sensations of creamy alabaster, long and luscious moonlight hair, glittering treasure trove eyes that held so much promise, so much depth, so much emotion and danger... It made his heart race in a way nothing else ever had. Nothing else ever would.

When had he fallen so far? So hard? When had it struck him so utterly and completely? How had this pure white beast broken through every wall, every barrier, every defence he had placed around himself?

"Yes. More than the strawberry." He lowered his gaze to the floor, a small, fleeting smile tugging at his lips.

So many people looked at him and saw the former Division Five Taichou, former servant of the Soul King, now Lord of Las Noches, leader of the Arrancar army, traitor, liar, murderer, unbelievably powerful, threat to all three worlds. But not Shiro. Never Shiro. Shiro saw him. Shiro saw Sōsuke Aizen. That was a gift.

In his eyes at least, Shiro was a flower. Opening a little, day by day, just as the many petals of a lotus might open slowly over time as the sunlight coaxed it to awaken. Hidden layers, hidden depths, beautiful and fragrant and pure. Making no apologies to anyone for being himself.

A sudden gasp escaped Aizen before he could stop it, a recognition, a resolution swept contentment through him without permission, and he suddenly knew... He suddenly had his answer.

"Ren." He whispered, "I would have called you Ren, my lotus."

Moving slowly towards the bed, the brunet allowed himself to perch in the nook of the albino's crooked knees, reaching over and brushing some pale hair aside so he could see his expression better. As he did so, he found himself thinking Gin's question over again.

"What would I be willing to do for you?" He said aloud, the question troubled him, it made him ache somewhere in his chest, somewhere unfamiliar.

He knew the answer, and somehow it hurt. He'd always considered himself to be somewhat selfish, disinterested in the cares of those around him, willing to hold onto what belonged to him in a stranglehold so tight everything would eventually wither and die. But... Maybe he was right. Maybe he had changed, at least a little.

Because he knew for sure that he didn't want to see Shiro hurt. He didn't want to see him in pain, or suffering. He didn't want to see him choke for air and struggle to be free again. This stunning creature had been through that once before, struggling to find a place in the world while Ichigo held his chains. He'd seen what it had done to him to be so... Kept. And he didn't want to see it happen again.

So... Really, the answer was painfully simple.

"To save you... I would let you go."