Chapter 12 – Unholy

Aizen Sousuke nearly stumbled as he stepped through a dark portal that seemed to open out of nothing, a swirling mass of black and remains of what used to be a picturesque looking fortress warping out of focus as they blitzed out to nothing.

"Ah, Aizen-san," Ichimaru Gin dully acknowledged, a lazy smirk on his foxy face as he waved the brunet to where he was slouching, "you're back."

Aizen looked up to the other man's direction, seemingly only noticing the other's presence in the vicinity. The twitch on his brow suggested that he was mildly taken aback by the appearance of the fox, but nothing else. At least it wasn't the rest of his Espada. But he recognized his lack of concentration by how he opened the portal without sensing out the reiatsu of his followers within his vicinity.

"How many...?"

"About an hour," Ichimaru hummed, mockingly counting on his fingers as he turned his face up in an exaggerated display of 'thinking'. Despite his well-known position being beneath that of one Aizen Sousuke—as was every one of his followers—the foxy man never failed to irritate Aizen every chance he had.

However, the man's admission did cause Aizen to actually stumble on his steps. Only one hour...?

"What is it, Aizen-san?" the white-haired shinigami asked, a sliver of actual concern in his voice as he watched his leader frown, his pallid skin was ashen, "you managed to break him just yet?"

Aizen almost flinched at the undignified words. While he may have spent his life breaking bones and tearing limbs and flesh, destroying minds and lives with his powers, it was the first time in months that he thought about breaking someone.

Months?

No. He just broke Hitsugaya Toshiro's scant a few days ago, when he made him hurt the one person the child prodigy ever care for—sweet little Hinamori. Just got back from her wandering mind after left to fend for herself by him, only to be torn apart by her own family—at least, that was what she told Aizen; only her, 'Shiro-kun' and granny. That was enough for her. Until Aizen came into the picture.

No. It had only been a few days before that he broke bones and flesh, tear minds apart. But it seemed like it had been months. And he felt revulsion knowing that Ichimaru implied that he broke the person he had been caring for in those 'seemed-like-months' period of his life. The person that brought him peace, even temporarily—an hour. An hour that stretched.

Ichimaru narrowed his eyes at the brunet's lack of response, "Aizen-san?"

"It is stronger than I expected," the brunet muttered under his breath. He looked for a place to rest his tired limbs and found solace in a little nook by the open window overlooking Hueco Mundo's moonless sky—he comforted in the fact that it was, since he wouldn't be able to tell realities apart if it didn't. Then again, the very sight of endless white sand and the familiar arch of the open window reminiscent of his time with the vermillion haired deity now residing within his treasured orb. It was like having a genie in a lamp. The thought of owning the redhead trapped inside the orb sent shivers down his spine.

Mine.

Forever mine.

"The Seika?" Ichimaru's continued inquiries irritated him, but at least it snapped him out of his deranged possessive thoughts. He was never so obsessive over something—other than the orb he had been struggling to complete. But it was to gain something even more precious—a glorious revolution. But Renji...

His very existence ripped apart Aizen's state of mind, replacing it with something that he found was him, but not what he was portraying himself to be—what he wanted the world to see him as—a man. A simple, ordinary man with simple, ordinary wants. A man who enjoyed the smallest pleasures in life, and found comfort in the warm embrace of a lover. A man that would do anything to make said lover smile, to see that twinkle of mirth as he tried to make the other laugh with whatever means—even something as embarrassing as attempting to cook and fail miserably, painting his face with black ink because he found it was funny that we can taint papers with the dark ink but seldom our own face. To be flawed because it was charming.

To be kissing his lover's forehead reverently, tucking the vermillion strands behind his slumbering treasure's ears as he watched the other drifted to sleep in his arms. Marveling at the other's illusory beauty as the fluttering lashes would touch the other's cheeks, warm breaths puffing on his neck and the most innocent act of curling into his arms that made him whimper in adoration.

Oh, how the happiest moments of his life were spent on an hour inside a world that could never be his reality. How potent it was, the toxin that tasted like the elixir of life, the forbidden fruit that showed him what his reality could be, but never would. A reality where his lover understood what he was—who he was. To his core, left bare and vulnerable.

"The Hogyōku's illusions," Aizen finally breathed, life sucked out of him—a life that was never his. While Renji seemed to be neutral in his stance now that he knew what Aizen was aiming, he wondered if that was only the redhead's way to keep the illusion of their peaceful days alive.

He wondered if the holy being knew of his illusions, but chose to ignore it in favor of being with Aizen. He would like to think that way. He need not any other possibility—especially ones where Renji truly and completely succumbed to his illusions and found that his feelings were not real, after all. He was not sure he could take it. Yes, he was being selfish. He was cruel. He wanted everything yet unwilling to take real action for it, instead choosing to keep in within his closed-off dimension of dream-like reality, selfishly wishing to never leave yet wanting his... less virtuous ambitions to be fruitful meanwhile. To have it both ways. To have his cake and eat it.

He was a coward. A dirty, greedy, vile coward.

When he tried to speak again, barely a syllable left his mouth before he felt the oppressing power that made him tremble to his core. He closed his eyes, knowing what it meant, fearing that he wasn't ready—I still haven't heard those three words, I still haven't tasted that sweet essence, to kneel and worship my go—

A chunk of Las Noches giant walls was destroyed before his very eyes, the structure not able to withhold the tremendous amount of reiatsu that seemed to oppress everything into the ground.

Besides him, Ichimaru Gin grunted as he grabbed on to the cold white stone wall for support, his already pale skin made as white as his robe, cold sweat drenched his garments as he sent his reiatsu out to monitor the area surrounding the fortress. Some of the Espada seemed to be on the move—albeit struggling, sensing whatever dangerous reiatsu that suddenly showed out of nowhere.

"They're back?" the fox-faced man's voice sounded weak even to his own ears, the words mushed together as he struggled to stay upright with the gravity that seemed to pull him to the ground and drilled him meters below it. Even Aizen seemed to be breathless.

The fact that it was a very familiar reiatsu shook Ichimaru—glimpses of a thousand white petals that swirled in a deathly dance flashed through his mind. Whatever happened to the owner of said reiatsu, it would not mean any good news for them.

"I must go in again," the Espada leader rumbled lowly, his voice dangerous but his eyes were filled with anxious excitement. It was now or never.

"Aizen-san, it will take a toll out of your reiatsu," Ichimaru insisted even as he struggled to remain conscious, and he thought that he didn't want to be left alone to face the deathly rampage a certain raven-haired noble would bring to Hueco Mundo—after all of the Espada could safely be said out of commission, he knew they wouldn't be able to take even the initial brunt of the first attack. The fact that a certain irritating substitute's reiatsu lingered and mixed along with the larger than life monstrosity of deathly aura didn't ease his mind.

"How long have you stretch the time in there? A month?" he continued, watching as Aizen readied another portal to be opened. A glance to his left found Tosen Kaname struggling to approach the duo. He wouldn't have time to appease the blind man.

"Seven," was the simple answer that the white-haired shinigami got before Aizen stepped into the other dimension, once again.

Kurosaki Ichigo struggled to keep up with Kuchiki Byakuya as he created a pathway using his tightly controlled reiatsu piercing across the dark surrounding they were in.

"Are you sure we shouldn't tell the others about this?" he shouted at the man running a bit farther in front of him, an odd sight to see one Kuchiki Byakuya actually running instead of using flash steps to get from one point to another.

"I have notified the other captains of my absence," the Kuchiki noble simply said, his voice not at all indicating that he was out of breath—which he wasn't.

Truly, something must have gotten into the Kuchiki, Ichigo couldn't help but wonder.

His violent outbursts and disregard of public safety mere hours ago was proof that something was going on that Ichigo didn't understand. Ichigo couldn't help but question whether the Kuchiki was in a sound state of mind. And his fluctuating, borderline dangerous reiatsu explosions didn't seem like it was a normal occurrence, either.

Sure, Ichigo knew how short-tempered and easily challenged the Kuchiki captain actually was behind his stone-cold mask, but try as he might, he couldn't stop comparing the Kuchiki's powers to his own. He was not blind to see that his shinigami prowess was far above that of a normal captain, he knew that he could take on much more than a normal shinigami would. And he was often comforted by the fact that Kuchiki Byakuya, despite his scary demeanor, was never an actual concern to him since their first fight. One, because they were reluctant allies. And two? Two, because he knew, ever so slightly, that he held an edge over the Kuchiki ever since.

But now?

The white reiatsu aura that Byakuya was emitting was stronger than ever, that Ichigo had to actually keep his distance if he didn't want to be subdued by the sheer pressure, and that was already painfully suppressed by the Kuchiki himself after Ichigo notified him of that fact.

He couldn't help but feel miffed.

It was petty, not to mention childish—Renji's rescue should be at the forefront of his mind. But he disdainfully hoped that there would be a tangible explanation of how the situation could be.

Because honestly, Ichigo never liked to play side-kick.

"I didn't know you have it in you, Byakuya," the orange-haired substitute finally shouted back, trying to get a rise out of the tightly-reigned Kuchiki.

"Do not get in my way," was the answer that he got, a growl, "Aizen is mine."

Ichigo huffed. "Get in line, asshole," he grumbled.

A bright dot was visible in front of them and was getting bigger and bigger until they were forced to jump out of the dark space and into another realm—Hueco Mundo.

"We are here," Byakuya announced, immediately spanning his reiatsu across the visible realm, a crumbling mess of Las Noches not far ahead—searching for Renji's own.

His nose flared when all he could feel were the blasted Hollows and Aizen's little followers—the indication of Aizen's flittering reiatsu was still lost on him right now.

He couldn't feel Renji's reiatsu.

He exploded.

"Oh shit!" Ichigo cursed as he flash-stepped to a reasonable distance but still got caught up in the massive outburst, only to be sent flying a hundred meters away.

"Aizen? Is that you?"

Renji snorted at his silly question. "Well of course it's you, it's not like there's anyone else in this giant fortress," he smiled as he approached the haggard-looking man walking to his side. He was sitting on a high-backed chair, reading whatever book Aizen left around, one of his hands loosely clutching a white king piece from Aizen's favorite chess set.

"Renji," Aizen sighed. "What did I tell you?" he smirked that lopsided smirk Renji adored, tucking a loose strand of red hair behind the other's ear. It was long, before, but now... now it reached just under the red-hair's bottom.

And he loved that Renji never seemed to use the blasted elastics or hairbands and tie his hair up so high that they resembled a pineapple top, anymore. Then again, Sousuke remembered that Renji used to have such coarse hair—maybe his time in the Sixth as Byakuya's lieutenant this good to educate the man on proper hair care. He loved playing with the fine tresses, running his fingers through them, or simply tucking them behind the other's ear seemed so intimate. More than any cold embrace from a paid worker ever could—this, he knew very well.

"Okay, okay," Renji laughed in surrender, Sousuke's fingers tickling his ear as they trailed down to his collarbone, "Sousuke." The brunet shivered.

So unassuming. Innocent.

Deceivable.

"What is it?" Renji asked, a hint of worry in his tone as he ushered the other to sit on the bed. It had only been an hour since the brunet left—he said something about a meeting with his followers, something that Renji never questioned anymore—yet he looked as if he ran a marathon twice.

"Remember what I told you," Sousuke gulped, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to ask of the redhead after so long, "about starting a revolution?"

Renji frowned, the topic was never discussed after the first time Sousuke bared his thoughts on it. It was never something that appealed Renji. Sure, he more or less accepted it as Sousuke's main goal, but he never explicitly said that he would support it. His actions were still unforgivable by the law, and his goal was a crime in itself, no matter how justified it seemed when the words tumbled out of the brunet's honest mouth that night. So the only thing he could do what to let out a non-committal hum as he stroked the other's back in a semblance of comfort—he seemed to need it, more than anything else. He looked worn.

What did he do at the so-called 'meeting', anyway?

"I am starting it now," the words slipped out of Sousuke's mouth before he could think about it.

Renji paused his soothing ministration at Sousuke's words. His frown grew deeper. "Now?"

Why now? Why so sudden? Why—

"I need you, Renji," the brunet's large hands seemed to cover Renji's long, slender ones—they were quite filled and meaty, once, and he wondered where did all the food he went through in his time with Sousuke go. He didn't seem to gain any of his previous 'meat' and muscles. Then again, he never bothered to exercise to develop those unnecessary burdens on his body, anymore.

He couldn't care less of what Zaraki Kenpachi would think if he saw Renji later, not that he thought he ever will. Renji was staying there forever, after all. With Sousuke. He didn't know why he was thinking all these unrelated, ridiculous notions when Sousuke just revealed something big. Maybe he just didn't want to think about it. Maybe he just wished that Sousuke wouldn't ask him of—

"I need your blessing."

"Sousuke..." Renji exhaled weakly. All energy left him as he tried and failed to look at Sousuke in the eyes. He didn't notice the brunet's trembling frame until he slipped from the bed, and dropping to the ground.

"Sousuke!" the red-hair exclaimed in worry, he scrambled to pick the heavy body up from the ground. "What's wrong?" Stupid question.

The brunet's laugh was shaky at best. He put a clammy hand on top of Renji's supporting ones, "it's not—" he winced and grabbed at his chest. His ashen fingers gripped at the material as if trying to pull whatever harmful object was lodged in his chest, hurting him.

It seemed to him that his reiatsu was running on its last legs, taking his life-sustaining energy to boost its power to maintain the 'reality'. He wouldn't be able to maintain the illusion anymore if it kept going. The Hogyōku was a destructive mass of energy now swirling in his body, unaccepting that its host was weakening before its very presence. He would be forced on relying on the orb sooner than he expected.

He didn't want Renji to see it, more than anything else.

Renji was about to try to pull Sousuke off the ground once again, and to the bed, when the unthinkable happened before his very eyes.

"What is this," he voiced, barely a whisper—or maybe he simply couldn't make it any louder, his air supply cut from his lungs as he watched his surroundings twisted and morphed. The simple yet beautiful room melted away and liquid darkness seeped into the picture.

"No," he whimpered, his eyes impossibly wide in horror, his hands still hadn't left Sousuke's body as he whipped his head around him, willing it not to be true. "No." Sousuke flinched on his crumpled state at the distraught tone, Renji finally took his hands, and his everything away from the brunet now lying on a pitch-black surface.

The Hogyōku seemed to calm somewhat, now that Sousuke released all the intricate illusions he maintained within its dimension, some of the reiatsu he used to manifest matter into the dimension returning to him.

He picked himself up slowly, not taking chances. He called to the redhead, who seemed to be curling into himself. He could see his shoulders shook erratically, which he stilled with his hands in an act of assurance.

"You," the redhead suddenly spoke, his voice eerily calm, gripping the hands on his shoulders in an unusually tight grip, "this whole time."

"You must understand, Renji," Sousuke started, his voice calm despite his internal conflict. How would he remedy this?

"It was all necessary. Remember what I told you, little bird? We needed this dimension so that I can—"

"Manipulate me."

"Make me feel things I wouldn't have," Renji continued viciously, striking the nerves, Sousuke's fear that the redhead's feelings were all a product of his imagination. A product of his illusion.

"No," he denied vehemently, "no, Renji, please."

He refused to acknowledge that. What he felt was genuine. What Renji was to him, in that tiny dimension that he weaved like an intricate web of deception was nothing but real. He couldn't, he knew, he couldn't manipulate feelings. He couldn't simply change one's emotions, so it had to be real. It had to be.

Renji loves me.

The fact that disillusioned perceptions could alter one's thoughts and sentiments overtime was far removed from his cognitive thoughts. It was not important. Because what Renji felt was real.

"It's not just you," he admitted softly, searching for the other's eyes. He was baring his soul, his everything to the redhead. He would make sure the other knew that he was not disingenuous. He even had a few glistening beads of tears threatening to fall off his eyes. Were they real tears?

Of course they are.

I love Renji.

"I need you."

I need you, Renji. I need your powers.

Powers?

.

.

.

No. I love Renji.

"Your blessing," he tried again, reaching for the redhead who moved away, "to start a spark in this revolution."

I need you by my side, Renji.

I love you.

Your powers.

Aizen shook his head harshly, surprising Renji. No!

"We haven't much time, little bird," he pressed out in frustration, running his fingers through his hair harshly, a few strands of hair fell off due to the force. His eyes were manic but he didn't notice how the redhead was flinching away from his advances.

Renji was growing more and more worried over his well-being in the compressed space he was in, knowing that he was alone with a man slowly descending into madness who was also his only means of escape.

Renji loves me.

"Why?" the redhead finally whispered.

Renji loves me...?

"You can stretch the time for as long as you want, can't you?"

Renji, what are you saying?

"No," Renji shook his head, an ugly sneer twisted darkly on the beloved face of Aizen's dearest.

Renji why do you look like that?

You are supposed to be holy. My god. My savior.

Mine.

"The Hogyōku demands much from you, doesn't it? And now," the redhead stutteringly breathed, "you need me to give you my blessing because you're running out. And someone is coming for you, aren't they?" If not, why are you in such hurry, Sousuke?

Aizen staggered back. He was horrified at what his little bird was saying. Lies and deception unworthy of such a holy mouth.

Renji, stop this.

"Who?" the Seika pressed.

"Renji we don't have time for this," Aizen's voice trembled.

"It's my captain, isn't it?" the redhead's voice, no matter how much Aizen wanted to deny it, held a glimmer of hopefulness that should only be there when he was talking to Aizen about their next meal together forever in their little paradise.

Oh.

Aizen's eyes went blank for a moment. That man.

Kuchiki Byakuya.

'My captain', is it?

Is that so, Renji?

"I can't give you my blessing, Sousuke," Renji stated in his cold, cruel voice, "not as long as you are clouded with the Hogyōku's cursed powers," the redhead shook his head once again, spouting lies that Aizen wouldn't want to hear from the deity's mouth.

Is that what it is?

Green, ugly spikes of jealousy stabbed him. How dare he thought of that man when Aizen was there with him? When Aizen was there to care for him and love him and gave him everything he could ever wish for.

You are not my god. My savior.

"Not as long as you wished to use it to kill those who are dear to me," the redhaired demon continued on mercilessly, ignoring Aizen's stilling figure for a continuous onslaught of sharp words that tore apart his trust.

You don't love me.

Who gave you my life force, who comforted you, who knew you better than even him, who loved you.

You love him?

"Am I not dear to you, Renji?"

Aizen smiled. He looked at the red hair standing before him with newfound awe.

"You are just like everybody else, aren't you?" he commented offhandedly, whatever was holding him still before had let him go, "I was prepared to give you everything... and it's not enough for you," he marveled, his pupils dilating as his smiles grew wider and wider. He was used to people letting him down. He didn't in his life expected the same treatment from such a holy entity, but it was fine. It was fine.

Fine.

There was nothing left for him there. He supposed it was time that he moved on with his plans. The Seika proved to be useless to him, after all. If the wretched, so-called 'holy' being wouldn't help him accomplish his noble goal, then he was the enemy of Aizen's justice.

And all of Aizen's enemies must be crushed.

He held his arms wide and felt the wisps of dark power coursing through his entire being, pulsating from his chest and slithering through his veins.

Renji's eyes grew in horror at the state of the man in front of him.

It was not Aizen Sousuke, anymore.

Dark tendrils sprouted from where a gaping hole was found in the creature's chest, the hole caving wider and wider, a dark, gaping maw. And from within, a slick, black orb gleaming from the liquid darkness.

The creature spoke, as it was transforming, it's voice reverberating throughout the dark space they were in. It's reiatsu violent and dark and evil.

"So be it."

I did this, Renji thought torturously.

I loved you, Renji.

- to be continued -