Chapter 11 – Stockholm

It must have been months.

Renji blinked lazily into the dark. He felt like his eyes should have adjusted by now, but all he could see was black. At one point he thought that maybe he had gotten blind. At one point he panicked to the point of hyperventilating, his heart constricting as his lungs struggled to regulate his breathing. At one point, he screamed. And screamed for what must have been hours. But all he could hear was his voice echoing back to him.

At least that meant he wasn't deaf. Because after that, after he stopped screaming with his hoarse voice, his throat felt like it was torn, and his breathing finally calmed. All he could hear was silence. And it stretched. It stretched so long, he thought he was dead and it was death itself whispering back at him.

In that long silence and darkness, his mind was slowly losing its grip. He tried to think of memories, he tried to talk to himself, to remind him that he was alive and there were people that knew him. People that cared for him. People to return to. But it was hard. It was hard when he waited and waited for them to come—to get him back because he couldn't do it. Yet they didn't.

His friends. Rukia. Ichigo.

Captain Kuchiki.

His captain had been ever so obsessive about his well-being. His eyes when he first visited Renji in the Muken, the silent promise. The silent oath he took when he gripped Renji hands in his. His determination.

And for what?

Renji knew he was being vindictive. Somewhere inside his mind, he knew that it was probably Aizen's plan, to make him felt that way. To divide and conquer. He knew that, as Aizen had so graciously explained, this dimension was meant to tear his perceptions and senses to pieces. Deep in his mind, he knew all of those things to be true.

But it was shrouded and covered by a thick, thick layer of hazy blankness.

And now all he could feel was the sting of feeling abandoned. And the dull ache on his legs. It felt like time had passed him by for a long time, yet those wounds still hadn't fully closed. He absently thought if they had become infected. That they would have to be amputated. The rush of dread and horror at the thought that should have been there, they never came. He just accepted it. Take it, he thought dazedly, take my legs as everything else you took from me. For whom that thought was supposed to be, he didn't know.

He just knew that they were listening.

A dark man clenched his fists tight. "He is crumbling," he whispered brokenly, watching the pitiful scene before him.

Another shifted uncomfortably, his eyes dark with unimaginable emotion.

"He is... enduring." He knew it was to convince himself more than anything.

The light speared through his eyes, making him groan in pain.

Renji shielded his sensitive eyes with his hands, to no avail. It seemed to tear through the layers of skin, flesh, and bones and seeped like a burning liquor into his irises.

"Where am I...?" he tried to feel around the space he was in, searching for support as he struggled to get up, his legs catching sheets of what felt like linens.

His legs! They were healed, a dull ache remained—but nothing he couldn't handle.

"Feeling better, little bird?"

At the sound of the dreaded voice, Renji paused his fumbling.

"Aizen," he stated quietly, more to himself than anyone else.

It wasn't a dream, after all...

His eyes slowly adjusted to the light that was taken from him for so long, and for the first time in what felt like hundreds of days, he took in his surroundings.

He was on a bed, western-made it would seem. It was overly large and lavishly decorated. Fluffy white linens lined the bed, and that would be the recurring theme in the room—white. White walls, white floors, white curtains, white everything.

It seemed like he was back in Hueco Mundo, if the white sands peeking from the curtains were of any indication. A gentle breeze blew the soft white curtains, and he relished in the feeling if for just a second before he finally settled his eyes on the elephant in the room.

He cautiously narrowed his eyes at the brunet who was silently observing him the whole time, instinct told him to shift away to the farthest corner of the room, and out of that man's range, but he held his ground. He won't attack if the other guy didn't do anything to warrant that. Yet.

"If you think by being nice to me would change anything, you're wrong."

Aizen simply offered Renji a crooked smirk, "I wouldn't expect you to be so easily swayed either, Renji."

The redhead glared at how the other man addressed him as if they were 'friends'. "Don't call me that."

He tried to stand up, but as the covers slipped past his body, only then did he notice the state of his clothing—or lack thereof.

"What happened to my—"

"I took the liberty of changing your... soiled robes," Aizen started easily, eyeing how Renji seemed so suddenly shy, the silken white robe he put on the previously slumbering redhead slipped tighter around his body as he pulled it to cover any skin that showed through. He watched in almost disappointment when the last of the still so sickly pale skin was covered entirely in the garment.

"Don't be so alarmed, Abarai," the brunet reassured, "I didn't steal your virtue." not yet, he dared to think. After all, they had all the time in the world.

Quite literally. Since they were still in the Hogyōku's inner dimension.

But Renji didn't need to know that.

All Renji needed to know was that he would feel disgusted by the dirty meaning behind Aizen's loose words, and he voiced it outright.

"I never said that you did, you sick perverted asshole," the redhead in question glowered. If he was not still feeling so lethargic, he would be swinging about zabi—

Zabimaru.

He didn't have Zabimaru with him. Aizen purposefully left it behind when he took Renji. He was virtually both vulnerable and lack any means of offense. He was in a worse circumstance than he was before.

At Aizen's absolute mercy.

At least the one thing that the traitor wanted from him couldn't be gained by simply subjugating him physically. This, he could work with. He would need to play his cards carefully. He would need to keep his mental health strong, he would not fall into Aizen's manipulation. He would need to buy some time for the others to come.

A dark thought crept into his mind.

If they come.

"Language, Abarai-kun," Aizen's amused chiding torn him out of his thoughts, "I thought I beat it out of you when you were my subordinate."

Renji bristled at the mention of his past as the other's subordinate. How revolting it felt that he once served under that sick traitor. The same man who managed to break his friend until she couldn't function properly without him there. Like a broken doll longing for her master, the master who broke her in the first place. That was all the three traitors of Soul Society left, broken subordinates who they manipulated and twisted in such ways that they wouldn't be the same ever again. Wouldn't trust the same way again after being betrayed in the cruelest fashion.

"Don't ever bring that up," not my past with you, asshole. Not the one that Renji was never sure if he ever did any of Aizen's biding that ultimately made him able to reach his goals. Any of his missions and errands that involved dodgy requests that he never questioned out loud. How many of those, he sometimes wondered, that helped Aizen in the long run to fulfill his objectives?

And how many more would he do, now that he was subjected to the man's whims once again?

"It's only been one day," the subject of Renji's silent musing spoke, "I thought you might ask."

Renji looked up at that. He was visibly bewildered.

"I told you, time would work differently in the other dimension." What felt like months was actually just been one day in the real world.

When the light of understanding was visible in the redhead's eyes, Aizen finally took his leave.

"Rest easy, Abarai," he called from next to the only door that led to the room.

"You will be needing it."

Not that you'll know any differently, Aizen mused to himself.

He fought the brunet every time he came.

Yes, he was let out of that blasted dimension. And yes, he was steadily recovering from the menace's care. But that didn't make him any less of an evil man that needed to be brought down—especially now that his strength was recovering. He would wait for the others to come and fight together, but he wasn't a helpless damsel either. Instead of loitering around the closed-off room, waiting to be rescued—of all things!—he tried to fight his way out of it.

But then he was still not free. He could not get out of the room. Whatever few destructive kido spells that he knew—with the #33 being his favorite since he practiced with it most—could not seem to leave any visible damage on the door. And the curtains that were open before, was now closed. All things within the room seemed to be magically reinforced. It didn't surprise Renji, since Aizen was a master combatant and a genius to boot, no matter how Renji refused to admit it.

And since he refused to admit the other's superiority in physical condition and overall strength, he fought.

Aizen didn't show mercy when he fought Renji. Well, 'fought' seemed like a strong word to use. With the redhead only having his weakening fists and kicks, useless kido spells that seemed to do nothing to the other man, Renji was outrageously outmatched. Aizen didn't even need to raise his hands. The force of his reiatsu alone could knock the redhead off his feet. But he was a gracious fighter and he wouldn't want to humiliate Renji by not even trying. So he fought.

And Renji usually ended up lying down on the floor, bruising all over—with the occasional broken bones and internal bleeding.

Aizen patched him up good, every time.

What threw Renji off the most was one thing. There were no signs of Aizen's followers since the first time he was brought there.

"Where are all your little cronies?" Renji once asked as he let Aizen wrapped his wrists with bandages, the bones just recently mended from their previous 'encounter', "hiding in their little caves?" he taunted.

It was surreal, he marveled to himself, how he would let the man who broke his body to even be anywhere near him, let alone to fix his bones. Maybe I'm going mad, he thought hysterically, ripping his still raw wrists from Aizen's healing hands, almost satisfied that he could get such a delightfully startled reaction out of the man. But disappointed at how fast the expression was replaced with amusement.

"They are free to do what they want in their free time," Aizen explained lightly, once again reaching for Renji's hands to inspect if the bandages were damaged from the sudden action the redhead did.

Renji moved out of the bed he was sitting on altogether, walking backward as he monitored Aizen's reaction to his aversion of the other's touch. He didn't know why he was doing this. He shouldn't piss the lion off when he was still bleeding from its previous assault on his person. But it was all he could do. Some semblance of fight left within him, that he could actually enact. A petty rebellion against his captor.

Just to show that he could.

To reassure himself that he was still... fighting.

How childish.

"I thought you want to achieve your goal as soon as possible."

"I told you," Aizen sighed, striding to where the redhead was perched and coaxed him back to the bed, "we have got time," he finished vaguely. And he proceeded to heal the redhead once again. Who was, this time, quiet.

Renji fought the brunet every time he came.

And like any other time, he ended up lying on the floor, bruising all over.

But little by little, the wounds he would get started to be less fatal than the previous fights. Was it because of his recovering strength? Or Aizen taking mercy on him? Pity?

Was it because he gave in faster?

Gave in for less?

For days, weeks, months that felt like forever. He fought.

Why wasn't anyone searching for me?

Until he stopped.

Since then, moments that showed even a fraction of domesticity between them increased. Renji became more 'agreeable'. Aizen, in kind, became more attentive and less threatening. Glimpses of his past as a kind shinigami captain showed in their everyday occurrence, which grew increasingly often as he spent more and more time tending to Renji in his humongous room.

He would appear more mellow, he would share his thoughts on the most mundane matters, and he would bring his books with him to read while Renji would begrudgingly listen. He would bring his favorite chess set, which Renji would mock him for being interested in the game that was not traditionally Japanese.

"I appreciate the craftsmanship of the pieces," the brunet would smile fondly as he stroked a white queen piece. And he would offer to teach the redhead, which would then be blatantly refused.

Secretly, Renji would watch on as the brunet played the game for himself.

"I want to show you something," Aizen said on a quiet night, he was perched on a chaise where he was reading a book—Renji suspected it was a romance novel—when he abruptly stood up and gestured Renji to follow him.

The redhead, guarded and confused, tentatively followed the other as he was led outside of the room.

For the first time in months.

"What...?" he trailed off as the brunet took his hands and guided him to a large window. The windows in his room were always closed off since his first awakening in the room, and the only light was from the artificial lighting placed. It was the first time he had the chance to look outside.

A chance to escape.

"Look, little bird," Aizen pointed at the view before them, "isn't it beautiful?" his eyes were expectant as he watched Renji peered out of the open window, to the endless white sand and cloudless night sky.

A chance he didn't take.

"I thought there's no moon in Hueco Mundo," he muttered instead, dazedly watching the full moon glimmering bright as the sole light in the dark of the outside.

"It's an artificial ceiling," the brunet besides him explained, his hand not-so-subtly trailing down the redhead's loose mane, and found its way to curl around the other's body as if it belonged there. He felt the redhead stiffened under his touch, but didn't give it much thought.

Aizen dared to stroke his thumb on the soft fabric that covered the other's skin as he continued, "it can even turn to daylight if I so wish it."

And of course he could. He could manipulate everything they could see and feel in that dimension.

"Like your little 'dimension'."

The thumb that was mindlessly stroking Renji's clothed hip paused its movements.

"Indeed," Aizen murmured after a brief moment. And another moment later found his hand slack by his side again.

And then Renji was allowed out of the room more and more often. He wandered the halls of Las Noches, hoping to find at least one other person besides Aizen there. It was usually empty. But sometimes he would see glimpses of Ichimaru Gin turning around a corner or others from Aizen's little army. They would usually be gone by the time he rounded the corner to catch them.

Sometimes Aizen would accompany him, not that he didn't know the brunet would secretly follow Renji whenever he wandered around by himself. He wouldn't let Renji out of his sight, after all. Renji knew that.

Sometimes he would longingly stare at the open windows. Aizen saw this. So one day, a small feathered Hollow would 'accidentally' fly towards the windows, only to be blocked by an invisible barrier. Aizen would let out a sigh and lightly complain about a flock of Hollow 'birds' that would try to sneak into the castle, so he had to enforce the open windows with barriers.

And Renji would shift his eyes away.

He knew what Aizen was meant to say.

"You've got a kitchen in here?!" Renji exclaimed, excited eyes roaming across the huge area. Aizen smiled as he followed the redhead into the room. He expected it would be the redhead's reaction.

"I thought you're all monsters who eat other hollows," he commented in a teasing tone—a surprise, even to himself—as he inspected the immaculate kitchen filled with brand-new looking equipment and tools. They didn't look used at all, he thought as he inspected a metal pot and moved away to look at a beautiful set of knives. He dismissed the thought that, perhaps, Aizen built the kitchen for him.

"We're not all barbarians, Abarai," Aizen remarked in amusement, "at least I could say so for myself," he added.

"But it is mostly unused space," the brunet continued, not mentioning the fact that the area was only 'built' a mere moment ago after he saw the sullen look Renji sported ever since the window 'incident'.

Renji hummed distractedly at Aizen's admission, it came to no surprise since the 'food'—if he could call it that—that had been given to him so far had always tasted bland. To his consolation, Aizen would eat the same food with him, as he would spend most of his time with Renji. He even suspected that the brunet was the one who attempted those dishes, with the lack of his helpers around.

"I see your passion for the kitchen remains the same," Aizen would comment, watching Renji rummaging through the ingredients stocked in the cupboards and even refrigerating blocks filled with exotic looking meats and vegetables, certainly 'Hueco Mundo delicacies'—if there ever were such things. While the Hollows may not eat normal food, the shinigami who took residence in Hueco Mundo certainly still needed their sustenance. A funny thought entered Renji's mind that they actually had to sneak foodstuff from other realms just to get by.

"It's not like I got anything to do," the redhead grumbled, "with you 'cooking' up your plans in that gnarly head of yours," he pointedly looked at the brunet. It was also an excuse to escape having to taste another one of that bland food ever again.

"Then you're free to use it however you like."

It was another one of those nights. When Aizen would take Renji out of his room and both would sit by an open window to gaze upon the artificial night sky. The cool breeze was real enough, and Aizen would often time offer Renji his white hakama, which the latter would refuse. The sense of longing that Renji had whenever he looked outside was not there anymore. He had given up hope to escape months ago. Instead, now he would fill his heads on ways to occupy himself within the vast halls of Las Noches.

"Aizen," Renji called the brunet, his eyes staring off into the dark night and white sand just out of reach. The thought of anybody from the outside coming for him was pushed at the back of his mind. He wouldn't dare to hope. If they were coming for him he would now it a long time ago. Sometimes he wondered if Inoue really was that much more important than himself.

Aizen hummed in distraction, he couldn't seem to take off his eyes from the breath-taking view that was Abarai Renji. Sure, the moonlight was imitation at best, but it still helped to bring out the ethereal glow from the redhead's vermillion tresses and the still ever so pale skin due to the lack of sunlight. He admitted that he missed the tanned, healthier coloring the redhead used to have, but then again now the pale contrasted starkly against the black ink covering his body. And it was a sight to see. The contrast of black and white against deep crimson was hypnotic.

"Why are you doing this?" the redhead wondered aloud. At first, Aizen couldn't understand what the other meant by his question, too deep into his appreciation of the sight before him. But after noticing the lack of response, Renji turned to look at the brunet.

"What do you really hope to gain from this?"

Oh.

Perhaps it was the time they spent together, and the sense of closeness that grew between them despite one being a prisoner while the other a mass murderer keen on destroying Soul Society. But little by little, the redhead grew bolder and started asking him the more difficult questions. This would be one of them.

"Call me Sousuke, little bird," he started. He had asked that of Renji numerous times before, some in jest and some in actual seriousness. Time and time again the redhead would refuse to even acknowledge he said anything, afraid of eliminating all barriers between them, perhaps. That was the one constant in their... companionship, he decided. He would give and offer the redhead something that he never even think of giving to anyone else, and the other would be quick to refuse and turn his head away.

But now the redhead let out a loud snort. "Then stop calling me 'little bird', it's creepy," he huffed, and sarcastically added, "I'm not 'little' or a 'bird'." Which were both true, if they were being honest. He was looking rather thin—his usually sculpted muscles disguising his 'bird bones' from others were gone, and all that—but he was in no way 'small'.

Aizen couldn't help but give him a crooked smile. "Of course, Renji." It was a start. He didn't outright reject the notion of calling Aizen by his given name.

But then hearing the brunet called him by his given name was not something that he expected, either. Somehow he felt his skin heating up, he hoped it was because of the blood warming him from the cold night, and nothing else. He was too grown to be blushing like a schoolgirl. And especially not for having his name called by Soul Society's ultimate enemy, at that.

Sousuke, he tested in his head, not daring to say the name out loud. It sounded so casual. Too intimate. It felt like he was cheating. Cheating on... who?

He was forced to pull himself together when the man beside him cleared his throat, his expression solemn. He looked unsure, as if contemplating whether to divulge his long-time secrets to another person.

"I want to," he hesitated, "I want to change the system."

Now that's different.

Where was all the destructive, evil plan go? All the thousands he killed?

"You must have noticed by now," Aizen started, "how corrupt Soul Society really is. The fate of a soul determined by a bunch of old men who would rather fill their pockets and care of nothing but their own self-interests," he glowered in suppressed anger, disgust evident in his voice that Renji couldn't help but agree, "and the source of it all sitting in another world, comfortable in its crowning glory as it watches everything fall apart."

"If anyone is a monster," the brunet muttered darkly, "it is."

Renji was quiet the whole time. He was earnest, that, Renji could see. And as much as he hated to say it, what the man said was nothing but true—at least from what he had been shown in his life as a shinigami. Sure, Rukia's execution was orchestrated by Aizen himself, but had he not witnessed many more of the same, grueling verdicts thrown about by the people he called the 'authorities'? They who would judge what transpired around them by merits that they themselves could reap, rather than what would benefit the society? They, who feared for their lives yet would proudly cower behind the backs of shinigami as they ordered the soldiers to protect them in the name of—

"You mean the Soul King, don't you?" Renji guessed. He had not personally seen how the Soul King looked like, the rumor said that he wasn't even a living being, but he knew enough that the Soul King's existence was pertinent to the balance of all existing realms. That without him all souls would be thrown into chaos.

"He keeps the flow of souls—"

"Whatever textbook definition they taught every single one of us is inconsequential," Aizen snapped unexpectedly.

"Then you want to," Renji paused, gulping, "you want to destroy him?"

"I want to overthrow it," Aizen corrected, "it doesn't deserve its place as a king. It's merely a doll with purpose, a tool. What Soul Society needs is a King that would rule it fair and just."

Out of all the things Aizen had said, the fact that he kept mentioning the Soul King as an 'it' bothered Renji to no end.

He didn't know what Aizen knew, after all. He didn't see what Aizen had managed to take a glimpse at. The sheer repulsiveness of the thing that was being kept in that higher dimension, a centerpiece, more than anything. And having to deem it 'worthy' of its title. As a ruler of his world. He wouldn't accept it.

"And you think you can do it?" the redhead asked again, his tone holding no hint of condescension, "replacing him, I mean?"

Aizen smiled at that. "I am simply a spark in the revolution, Renji," he explained, now holding a serene tone, replacing the grim and dark one he used before.

"I don't need that power. But if no one else would," he took a moment to breathe in sharply, as if preparing himself for his imminent future, his destiny, "then I will."

"Is that what the Hogyōku is for?" the thousands of souls and human lives you took, to create the innocent orb that held such monstrosity within?

"It is simply a means," Aizen admitted, knowing what Renji was implying, "a tool that makes it possible to reach the Soul King Palace."

Renji didn't know what to make of that.

Those souls... as a mere tool, huh?

Later on that night, Aizen held Renji in his arms, both seeking warmth from each other's body heat in the cold night. The redhead didn't seem to mind, his head too distracted with the information the brunet had given him. To say the least, the other shinigami had told Renji his real objective, not the evil narrative he spread for the world to see. He didn't know why the brunet would make such an image of himself, to be hated by the very people he wished to 'safe' if that ever was justified. Then again, Renji only had his words to go by, he wouldn't know if Aizen was lying, or it was all a part of his manipulation.

What he knew was that he now understood Aizen a little better.

And that thought scared him to bits.

On the other hand, Aizen was also silent. He stroked the redhead's hair as he stared at the artificial full moon. It was always his favorite, rather than the bright sunny sky. It defined beauty and serenity.

He didn't know what possessed him to tell Renji of his inner thoughts, something that even his right-hand man, Ichimaru Gin, never had the grace to hear. His intentions were less than noble, his selfishness urged him to take matters into his own hands, destroying things left and right for the goal he saw up ahead, regardless of what he broke on his way. While what he told Renji was what he wanted for Soul Society, he knew that the means that he took would never justify the end—his sins would never be forgiven. He was not stupid enough to not see that.

That he was a murderer.

But somewhere deep inside, he knew he wasn't always in the right state of mind. Somewhere deep inside, he knew he found joy in taking those lives. Watching the blood and carnage that he knew was all his doing. Seeing the horror in Hinamori's eyes as she watched his bloody body hanging on a building, and to traumatize her once and for all by betraying Soul Society and everything he ever taught her before her very eyes. Breaking her mind and heart in the process.

He knew he found joy in what sins he did, and never once did he regret them.

That was why he found solace in the redhead, now pliant in his arms. His mind would clear and all thoughts of carnage left him. All that left was peaceful surrender to the holy. His reverent fingers caressing the quiet Seika as if asking for forgiveness of his sins. The holy being's body a shrine. An asylum from his psychotic thoughts.

Which was also the reason why he couldn't tell Renji that they were still in the Hogyōku's dimension.

He didn't want to.

He trapped the bird in the gilded cage, yet finding himself comfortable within that cage too. Finding peace in the sweet prison.

He held the dozing redhead tighter.

He was letting this illusion become his reality.

- to be continued -