Chapter 10 – Crumbling

"A decoy."

"All of it."

Captain Kyoraku Shunsui sighed. "He played us." he looked older than he usually was, frown lines and tired eyes marred his usually carefree expression.

"Played us? He made us dance around his dick like a bunch of cheap whores!" Kurosaki Ichigo slammed his hands on the Captain-Commander's table violently.

It was the aftermath of their so-called 'battle' with Aizen and his Arrancar cronies. All the captains were assembled in the Captain-Commander's office despite the owner's absence, when Kurosaki Ichigo showed up out of nowhere and started demanding explanations.

Ukitake Jushiro tried to calm the hotheaded young man down, "now now, Kurosaki, there's no need for such vulgar—"

But Ichigo wouldn't be having any of it. He slammed his hands on the poor table once more, glaring at every single officer standing in the room lividly.

"Why the fuck did you let all the lieutenants and captains fight out there?! If Renji is such an important asset, you should know fucking better!" he shouted, his tone taunting shameful expressions to come out of the officers.

He succeeded in some. Jushiro looked positively guilty, thinking that he also played a part in it when he easily thought that Aizen wouldn't be coming for the redhead who was now gone. Some of the other captains looked disgruntled at Ichigo's accusing tone, but couldn't say anything back for they knew he was right.

Unohana Retsu decided to intercept the substitute shinigami's nonchalant display of disrespect before he went any further. "Kurosaki Ichigo!" she admonished sharply.

Ichigo sneered at her, no hint of his usual respectful tone whenever he spoke to her was evident, "there's no time for formality, Unohana-san."

She couldn't help but stifle a sharp intake of breath at his tone.

"And you," the orange-haired terror pointed his finger to one of the only two captains in the room that so far had shown no reaction whatsoever.

"You said it yourself, didn't you?"

"You'll die to protect him," he said in a deceptively calm voice.

Byakuya went rigid.

"And I will do so," he whispered. He left the room as swiftly as the wind.

"Kuchiki Byakuya!" the other captains called his name, but he was gone as if he was never there.

A pair of cold, amber eyes of one Kurosaki Ichigo watched the spot where the noble captain used to be.

His stride was swift and long, his black as night hair whipping through the wind in his haste. His lips curled and taut, his jaw clenched to the point of breaking.

Wrong decision after wrong decision.

He tightened his fist, his unusually gnarly nails stabbing into his skin and drawing lines of blood to the surface.

And now Renji is gone.

His frame trembled in rage barely contained in his warrior body, waiting to burst and lash out to the world.

Aizen took him.

In a slip of control, he slammed his taut fist to the wall next to him. It cracked.

I let him—

He waited for the blood to trickle down his skin. Waited for the sting that would surely come. To hurt him.

.

.

It didn't.

He looked at his hand in horror.

...

"Where's Renji?" Kurosaki Ichigo demanded, his glare sharp enough to pierce through bones.

Byakuya held his ground. "He's safe."

Besides him, Kuchiki Rukia took a step back in horror, her small hands covering her mouth in horrifying realization.

"No. No, Inoue is not who he was looking for. It's a decoy, Aizen—"

"No, Rukia," Byakuya stopped her before she went into a panicked state. To assure her or himself, he wasn't quite sure.

"We have to go back, nii-sama!" she clutched her brother's uniform, searching his eyes desperately.

He wouldn't let himself believe her words.

He couldn't.

...

"Scour the entire Soul Society!" the Captain-Commander shouted harshly at his subordinates. "Leave no buildings unchecked, no rocks unturned! FIND HIM!"

"Kuchiki, you come with me."

He turned swiftly and motioned for Byakuya to follow him with his crazed glare and a quick jerk of his head. His demeanor was a 180-degree change from his usually composed behavior even under great stress. He looked barbaric. It showed how dire the situation was for him. But Byakuya refused to acknowledge any of that. He was simply hunting Aizen who managed to escape, was all.

Renji was safe.

And so he followed the old commander as a silent shadow, his expression blank.

His sister just had to appear at that moment, as if reminding him that it was not just his imagination. "Nii-sama I—"

"Not now Rukia," he ordered her. He didn't want her to say anything, anymore. At least for now. He didn't need her to say anything which confirmed that one fact.

He left her standing, a shocked expression in her face. Tears running down her cheeks. Why was she crying? It wasn't as if anything happened to her. Was he too harsh? She had experienced many of his worse rages, surely she was not as weak as he thought. She was his sister, after all. Even Hisana was strong, despite her sickly body. He refused to go down that path of wallowing, however, he didn't need the sadness that comes whenever the thoughts of his late wife crossed his mind, not now.

He followed Yamamoto to the Muken. Were they visiting Renji? He didn't like to visit Renji when there was another person with him. It was less... personal. He was never there to do anything, so it wasn't as if the presence of the captain-Commander would do anything. But he liked to think that he was special. That the old commander's history with his lieutenant was not real. He wouldn't suspect that the two even hold any hint of romantic interest in their past. It would be too disturbing, he decided. Renji was a beautiful thing, a gem, while the Captain-Commander was... well, he wasn't sure how he had looked like in his youth. A sight to see, he assumed, but not in the way that would be too pleasant on the eyes, he dared to think.

All these distracting thoughts muddled his mind, he kept his gaze upfront, not daring to look to his sides as he followed the Captain-Commander into the lowest level of Central Great Underground Prison—the Muken.

The Captain-Commander had a grim expression on his face, Byakuya noted. He opened the gate that separated Muken from the world, deep underground, and stepped in.

A single torch was flickering, illuminating the dark.

The blood that streaked the surface, nor the smell of death surrounding him didn't compute to his senses, at that moment.

Nor was the fact that those bodies belonged to the guards that were supposed to watch over Byakuya's lieutenant.

But he did notice something, at last.

There was no second source of light that he had gotten used to. The gleaming, gentle light emitted by a source far more saintly than the tattered torch.

And neither of the two reasons that he made up in his mind was good enough for him.

One. Renji stopped emitting his light, which could only mean—death. He refused to choose that option.

Two. He was not there. Taken. By Aizen. Or maybe he escaped—

"How did this happen," Yamamoto's weak voice cut through his denials.

It was as if cold ice rained down his entire body, frigid surfaces that scraped through his skin, making the hairs on his skin stood on ends.

The cell was open. Renji's zanpakuto was left behind. It could only mean one thing.

"I do not know, Captain-Commander," he whispered, voice barely audible. Afraid that any louder he would get himself a heart attack. Bile seemed to rise up his throat. The smell of blood and decaying bodies suddenly hit him full force.

His reiatsu exploded. The entire space trembled from the force, the cell door slammed closed, the bodies moved violently on the ground, splattering about like fish.

Yamamoto was in his own world. His body swayed and trembled, but his eyes were glazed.

"The keys," the Captain-Commander mumbled, his hands trembling as he reached for the keys into Muken that never left his person, "it never left me..." his voice quivered, his fingers clutching on the box of keys so hard, that the wooden box almost cracked from the force.

Yet Aizen still managed to—

"Aizen took him."

That was the final nail in the coffin.

...

Aizen took Renji.

He stood still as a rock, as a statue of black and white. His eyes stared into the distance, watching nothing and everything. The scampering officers who jumped away from his vicinity, the birds who ceased to chirp in the cusp of twilight. Highly unusual. If only he took a moment's glance, he would find that his burst of reiatsu managed to stun those poor feathered creatures to fall from the high places they were perched at, down to the cold ground they went. And that the shinigami who scampered away were actually blasted off by the burst of his unadulterated energy. That, too, he didn't notice.

He didn't know what happened to him. It felt as if all the rage in the world, all the anger, the red hot fury decided to reside within him. His saw red, his veins pulsating madly. His thoughts as if a drugged man—delirious, dangerous. Poisonous.

But his eyes weren't blank. They were sharp, slate grey shone more brightly than ever. But his pupils were dilated. His mind unfocused.

A sudden calm struck him like lightning. As if an epiphany dawned its full brutal force on him. His thoughts receded; all the distractions, the unnecessary musings faded, and narrowed down into one single, ultimatum.

I must save Renji.

"Byakuya."

Kurosaki Ichigo. A nuisance.

"I'm coming with you," the nuisance stated, leaving no room for argument. As if he knew what Byakuya was planning to do—something that he only thought of mere seconds before the substitute shinigami's arrival.

Ichigo noticed the blast of reiatsu that exploded off the Kuchiki. He knew something happened to the man. Not simply his emotionally compromised mind, having to lose his precious lieutenant, but something else. He had a feeling, but he wouldn't bet on it just yet. That was why he remained quiet about what he just saw, his mind acknowledging something far more important at the moment.

"You will hinder me."

Ichigo bristled in indignation. How dare he thought of Ichigo as a hindrance? "You brought all this upon yourself," he attacked viciously, satisfaction evident in his eyes when he watched the raven's jaws clenched impossibly hard. "I'm just making sure you're not messing up again."

He sure knew how to hit where it hurt most. But as everything was with Kuchiki Byakuya, what hurt most didn't topple him down from his high pedestal. What hurt him most made him slam the other person to the wall with another burst of his lethal reiatsu—as Ichigo would find, and thanked heavens his shinigami body was more durable than most—and pinned him there without even touching him.

"Do not test me," the Sixth Division's captain growled, his voice different, dripping with dark promises and Ichigo's senses screamed 'danger' in his ears, wanting him to act, to protect himself from the monster in front of him.

"I can destroy you where you stand." And for a split second, Ichigo believed that.

This was not the Kuchiki Byakuya he knew.

This was not Kuchiki Byakuya.

The substitute shinigami choked where he was pinned, a feral grin grew on his face, his eyes flashed into black. "All the better."

A rough slap echoed in the vast chamber. Its white walls and dull lighting turned the area grey and grim, despite its majestic structures.

Aizen Sousuke touched his barely stinging cheek, his smile ever-present and dominating.

"What do you want from me?" Renji glared viciously, trying to get loose from the Arrancars holding him steady, but without his strength and Zabimaru, he was as good as a human.

"It has been a long time, Abarai-kun," Aizen said sweetly, as if the slap from the redhead didn't happen, " I missed seeing your flaming hair," he cooed, drawing closer and touching a strand of wild red hair and patting it in place.

Renji jerked away, body reacting impulsively in revulsion. "Don't touch me."

Azizen showed mercy and pulled away. He gave the redhead a calculating gaze before smirking.

"I have to say," he drawled, eyeing the peeking collarbones from the redhead's loose white garment, the almost sickly pale skin and lanky figure, "imprisonment suits you well."

Renji snarled at that and with renewed vigor, struggled against the Arrancars. He remembered, and he noticed all the times that Byakuya looked at him in longing, the same hungry looks he gave Renji whenever he thought the redhead was sleeping in his cell. He never once felt revulsion and disgust. He was, to some extent, happy. but when Aizen did it, like he was doing right now, Renji had to stop himself from cowering away from the man. As if he was a piece of meat. A prey.

Something more than just a means to Aizen's ultimate goal.

Aizen turned to his followers. "Leave us."

And they all shuffled away from the chamber, including the ones holding Renji in a tight grip. He noticed Ichimaru Gin throwing him a mocking sympathetic glance and a cheery wave before the doors leading to the room slammed shut.

Renji jumped away to the farthest side of the room, taking a fighting stance. So what if he didn't have his zanpakuto with him? He could fight with his bare hands, and he could use kido, if he needed to.

Point being, he was not giving up on escaping. No matter how bleak the outcome would be.

"Don't be afraid, Abarai-kun," Aizen consoled the redhead, stepping closer while his lips were balancing a binding spell in case the redhead went wild. He was like a moody tiger, after all. Who knew what silly stunt he might pull? He might hurt himself, Aizen wouldn't have that.

"Who's afraid, you bastard?" Renji shouted in irritation. He had enough of the brunette mocking his masculinity as if he was nothing more than a damsel in distress—helpless.

He charged head-on, a war cry tore through his throat as he raised his fist that was aimed to nail the brunet's solar plexus.

Aizen sighed, turning just a slight and taking hold of Renji's arms in one movement as the redhead tried to punch the brunet.

"Such crass attitude," he tutted, his tone was that of a disappointed parent, yet his eyes were smiling in cruel amusement. You will never outmaneuver me, they said. Why did you even try?

"Let's be honest, you're not here to judge my manners," Renji spat, jerking his arms from Aizen's tightening grip, "let me go."

"You're free to leave," Aizen loosened his hands, "but."

He jerked the redhead closer, looking at him in the eyes.

Aizen whispered, deep baritone rumbled out of his body—not unlike a lion's growl. "After I am done with you."

And then he composed himself, an easy smile taking place once again on his face. As if one moment ago, the disguised beast in humanoid form was never there. "Now, let's get you somewhere... safe."

The Captain-Commander was different.

Since their return from their deceitful battle with Aizen, since his return from the Muken with Kuchiki Byakuya in tow, he was different. A shell. He had a far off look in his eyes when he emerged from the prison. His old body, usually ever vigil, slumped with burdens invisible to the naked eyes. He noticed his students there—the three of them. The worried look both Retsu and Jushiro gave him as he walked past them, the unusually calculative gaze Shunsui threw at him. He brushed them aside.

He didn't attend the emergency meeting in which Kurosaki Ichigo made a spectacle out of. Instead, he enclosed himself in his captain's quarters ever since. None of the other captains and officers, even his most trusted scouts and personal guards were allowed entry. Not by the way his Ryujin Jakka guarded the entrance, his fire bursting and exploding this way and that the moment anyone got close to the vicinity. His fiery eyes glaring off any wandering little birds from straying anywhere near, dangerous, pulsating reiatsu kept every single living being away.

It had been three days since his self-induced exile into his personal quarters, and he had not yet come out of it. Not even his oldest students could coax him out to lead them in these dark times. He fell into depression.

He failed.

Yamamoto watched as water dripped down his face, into the water basin waiting below. He observed the weary old man staring back at him in the mirror. The ugly lines marring his ancient skin, the white hair that replaced what was once intimidating black mane. The haunting, empty eyes.

He knew he should probably get out. He should plan a rescue for Abarai Renji. He was, after all, the Seika. He was certain that Aizen would use the holy blessing for his own gains, in any way he could. He should also probably tell his students that he was alright.

He sunk his hands into the water basin, waiting, watching as the water softened his skin and turned them wrinkly as a prune. And he brought them back up to his face. He went for a cloth to dry his skin, but his hand trembled inexplicably. He gasped and in a moment's panic, grabbed purchase on the unassuming basin for balance, yet he fell, taking the basin and its content down with him. The water got everywhere. Seeping into his clothes and the carpeting of his quarters.

But he could only watch as the water traveled further, spreading out until it spread itself thin and seeped into the carpets and wooden floor. He tried to get up, but his limbs were weak. He fell, yet again.

He should have been doing something. He should be planning a rescue. Planning a counter-attack.

But he didn't.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to no one. Hoping that the one it was meant for would understand. Would forgive him for it.

For the second time.

"I'm sorry."

A loud sound was heard from inside the Captain-Commander's quarters.

Ukitake Jushiro stood clear out of Ryujin Jakka's attacking range. But he heard the sound just fine.

"Yamamoto-dono..."

"Let's leave him be, for now," Shunsui patted him on his shoulder, tugging him away from the vicinity.

It was like the last war, all over again, Jushiro thought in concern.

It was as if a portal was opened to another world.

Inside was dark, but as he begrudgingly followed Aizen into the opening, he found that he could see everything clearly.

And then the pitch black was replaced, faded away into nothingness as a beautiful picture of a forest meadow took place. Renji almost jumped as he felt wisps of grass tickled his legs as he looked around in surprise. Was it all real?

"Where are we?"

Aizen smiled at the redhead's barely concealed wonder. "Curious, little songbird?"

Renji turned to glare at the tall brunet. "Stop calling me that you sick freak," he growled.

His eyes were distracted soon after, when a twinkling dandelion floated near his vision. All around him he observed as the plain meadow grew more and more real, tufts of dandelions and fragrant flowers sprouted from the grass, and as he looked up, the sky settled to a peaceful shade of baby blue, fluffy white clouds like cotton candy.

"My, must we work on that language first, perhaps?" he heard the former captain said in a teasing manner, something which disturbed Renji to great extent. He acted as if he didn't just abduct Renji for the sake of destroying the very fabric of Soul Society.

But Renji, dulled by his senses bombarded by amazement and wonder that grew all around him, simply snorted. "Stop talking like I'm a damn brat," he glowered, "just answer the question."

Aizen hummed in amusement at the redhead's continued blatant act of disregard for his situation. "I see that the awakening of your dormant consciousness dulled your sense of fear, Abarai."

As if a wakeup call, Renji paused his observation of the world continued to be built around him. He couldn't believe the enemy had to remind him that he was in actual danger, just being in the same space as the former captain. Just because the brunet acted without malice, so far, didn't mean he would simply cast aside his main objective—to use Renji. A sinking feeling grew in his chest. The realization that he was extremely unguarded simply due to the other's lack of a physical threat at that moment gutted him. Where did all those shinigami trainings go? To constantly be on alert, even more so in the presence of an enemy? And boy was Aizen the biggest enemy that Renji had ever faced.

"We are in one of the pocket dimension within the Hogyōku," Aizen explained, noting that the redheaded lieutenant finally sobered from his distraction, however rightfully justified—it was indeed an incredible view, "in which time and space become irrelevant." And reality warped, it would seem, Renji added mentally, now gazing disinterestedly—warily—at his surroundings.

Aizen continued, much to Renji's expectation—the man used to be such a mentor figure, after all—old habits, he guessed. "I have done my share of... practice, with the orb. You can say that only I have the mastery of its abilities, and to manipulate the flow of time in this place. Even its very fabric of reality."

"That's very humble of you," the redhead said, sarcasm dripping in his voice.

Aizen had the cajoling smile on his face again, "I don't like to mask the truth," he added, "as ironic as it sounds."

Out of nowhere, the beautiful meadow turned bleak. Baby blue sky turned grey as the temperature dropped to an uncomfortable degree. The trees rot away into tall, sharp structures, their dark points gleaming in the dull light. The flowers wilted away and the grass turned sharp.

Renji gasped as the spikes broke into the skin of his legs, piercing his flesh. A nerve must have been damaged, for his legs gave and he would have fallen to his death to those spikes if Aizen didn't catch his fall when he did.

Strange, he thought in the midst of pain, feeling thick wetness trickling down the skin of his legs, knowing it was his very own blood. He noticed that he found safety being near the brunet—the sharp spikes could not reach him, he realized. He tried to steady himself on his own feet, and finding him unable to do so—yet could not find it within him to panic or be horrified of the fact. A strange calm waved through his consciousness. Were they laced with poison? he absently thought as he observed the steadily dribbling blood pouring out of his legs, red soaking his white garment, tainting it.

Aizen's honeyed voice reached him, heated breaths tickled the shell of his ear as the brunet whispered to him. "Know that only I can get you in and out of this dimension, Abarai-kun. I can make you wait... and wait so long—seconds would feel like years," he stroked the pliant redhead's cheek, "hours feel like centuries," and ran his thumb over the pink, dry lips, "your very perception deceiving you," finding his fingers on Renji's chin, tugging, "until you're losing your mind and begging for me to save you. To get you out."

"That you will do anything," he whispered close, his lips a hairbreadth away from the stunned lieutenant's, "for me to do so."

"You're sick," Renji breathed out in turn, his voice lax despite the hate-ridden words, and his eyes glazed. He was struggling to keep himself awake, aware. Did he use a relaxant? he mentally wondered, a tinge of worry in his muddled mind. A drug on top of his rapid blood loss would be dangerous, indeed.

"Not if you give me what I want," Aizen remarked offhandedly, casting a healing spell that let the redhead's blood clot faster. He couldn't have his prized possession standing in front of death's door that soon.

"Your blessing."

Renji blinked hazily, yet his voice couldn't hide his incredulous tone. "Are you daft?" he wondered aloud, eyes narrowed despite his weak psyche at that moment. "I can't do that."

Aizen's eyes grew cold. He clenched his fingers tighter on the redhead's jaws. "And why," he murmured lowly, "is that?"

Renji finally found himself smirking in victory. "You will have to be worthy of it," of me, he thought.

Aizen let him go. The dangerous surrounding dispersed into pitch black once again. He fell to the ground due to his wounded legs. He feared that they would be permanent. That he would not be able to walk, to escape—

"We have got time," Aizen stated, his voice hard as a rock. He turned on his heels and exited through the portal the led them both into the dimension—the portal that seemed to appear out of nowhere from the darkness.

And left Renji alone in the other dimension.

It was dark.

- to be continued -