The Uninvited (a Bleach Fanfiction) by Seth's Kiss:
A/N: Heyo, ya'll! Tis I, KiSS-san, more commonly known in fanfic world as Seth's Kiss, ayup!
So, I wanted to do something different, and decided I wanted to write fics for my closest friends, and thus was born, the Gift Series! Woo! The fandoms will be super different from one another, but this will be the second out of...um, seven, I think? Anyways, hope you'll enjoy! Bella Ciao!
Disclaimer: So, I do NOT own Bleach or any of its characters, I am not Tite Kubo after all. I do own everything else however (plot and ideas); it all stemmed from an idea, suggestions, and an eccentric imagination. I would also like to apologize beforehand if any of the characters are O.O.C, so let me know when you believe they are. I mean, I try as hard as I can to keep them in character, but I tend to allow my writing take over my imagination at times (true story T_T).
Warnings: Like most of my fics, this will be Rated M, mostly due to the fact that is the common rating of all my fics (I do write dark). A lil' warning for mild, very mild, Psychological Horror.
Any advice within your reviews is, as always, warmly welcomed. However, if this story isn't in any way to your liking or if you sense something off, or if these themes or literally anything else here doesn't appeal to you, either because it offends you or you are still underage, please, please, DON'T read. Kindly go back and browse for other fics. There are plenty of them, I assure you. Bella Ciao :3
Note: If this fic comes across as confusing to you, dear reader, worry not – it's meant to be X3
Summary: Canon-Divergent. After the War, Aizen Sosuke has been condemned to be in Muken for the rest of his days, bound, blind and silenced. But he is not deaf to the world around him. Nor the voices that have started to rise, dead set on tormenting him. Well, not voices, per se - just the one voice. Mild Horror. Full Warnings inside. Gift Fic Series. Gift Fic for Shirenui.
Quiet. The cold, desolate prison which was his whole world now, was deathly quiet. Dead silent. No sound. No movement. No light. No life. A place no different than an austere, forsaken tomb.
It also wasn't so different from his once throne room back in the Hueco Mundo, if Aizen Sosuke was being entirely honest. When it would be devoid of the unruly creations he had to discipline, and subordinates he was destined to command. When it was entirely empty. When he was alone.
He let out a soft sigh, shifting ever so slightly in discomfort within the tightness of his bindings. He had been rendered immobile, blind, mute and, worst of all, completely and utterly powerless. Laughable, really. The only few times the restraints fastened over his mouth were ever removed, was when he was fed, typically by one of the guards.
Aizen, out of boredom, had had made several - many - attempts in riling up each and every one of them, if only for some semblance of entertainment. All in sheer vain. None of them would ever even dignify him with a single response, leaving him monologuing more often than not. And while a nice ol' monologue he did enjoy, if it didn't elicit any reaction, what was the point?
Aizen sighed again. Nevermind. It didn't matter anyway. Nothing no longer did. Nothing at all. At least, not in this moment.
With all his grandiose and meticulous plans foiled, and all his attempts at grandeur failed, what he had left now was to await the eventual end of his very long time, sentenced within this cage. And, meanwhile, all he could do now, in this moment, was scheme. Plot. Machinate. Conspire. Aizen had all the time in the world after all, didn't he.
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It wasn't quiet anymore. It hadn't been for quite some time now, though Aizen couldn't for the life of him remember when it had ceased to be as such. Because, now, he was hearing voices. Well, not voices per se. Not in the plural sense, really. It was just one. One very familiar voice.
"Saaayyyyy, C'ptain~ Feelin' comfy?"
Aizen would never, in the entirety of his lifetime, ever admit it out loud, but an uncomfortable set of icy shivers had run down his spine then.
That reaction hadn't been anything related to fear - he could ascertain that much. It wasn't that. Whatever it had been, it had been real, raw, something somewhat rattling.
Once the initial shock had subsided, he very quickly opted to fully ignore what he had heard. He shifted in his seat, straining against the stifling discomfort of his bounds, itching to remedy and rid himself of this terribly irritating, out of the blue nuisance. But he was rational enough to summarize it as simple fatigue, or overstimulation, due to most of his senses being hindered.
"I know what ya thinkin' right now, C'ptain. Naaah, this ain't actually real. Not even happenin'. Just hallucinatin' is all. Ain't it right? That's definitely what's runnin' up yer pretty lil' brain."
Well, yes. That was the exact conclusion that he had just come to. Pretty redundant of his own hallucination to point that out, yet again. Were his thoughts turning into a broken record now? It did not matter though. This was temporary. It would pass. Aizen was merely hearing things.
"Are ya really though?"
The voice hissed, low and sibilant, right besides Aizen's ear, but the latter didn't bother to react. Or even respond. Well, it wasn't like he could say a thing back anyways, due to being silenced, with a gag made of black leather and reiatsu restraining energy, keeping his mouth fully sealed.
Yet again however, he wasn't going to entertain what was clearly not there. He wouldn't bother.
All of a sudden, the heavy sound of loud clanking rang in the emptiness of Aizen's prison cell, signalling the arrival of the guards – it had to be meal time, surely.
"Oooooh, looks like ya got some comp'ny now then, C'ptain. So that'll be my cue. Ta for now."
And then the voice was gone.
Hence, Aizen, though intensely baffled by it all, found it somewhat reasonable to assume that, whatever this occurrence had been, he wasn't going to be experiencing any of it anytime soon. Albeit ever again.
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Wrong.
Oh, how so very wrong Aizen had been. The voice didn't leave. It was, apparently, here to stay.
The voice's manifestation was very sporadic. Inconsistent, but persistent. And prattling on and on, hardly ever allowing Aizen to his own thoughts. And it was beginning to grate on his nerves. Seriously so.
He had no concrete way to determine this, but had this vague, yet clearly distorted, impression that the voice was sentient, pacing and prowling about, circling where he had been made to sit. However, he downright refused to admit, to believe, this voice belonged to who it belonged to. There was simply no WAY in hell, heaven or earth, this could be possible...
"Ya know, C'ptain, I was wonderin'~"
Jaw clenching, Aizen made a point to not reveal his frame fully tense up upon being addressed. Yet again. When was this voice going to finally leave him alone? Why was it even there at all?
"Feelin' guilty yet?"
Aizen did feel himself frown at that, unable to overlook the voice saying those words. ...Guilt? He didn't do guilt. Nor remorse. Guilt was not built into one's DNA, for it only served to harm, to hurt one's soul, one's mind. A parasitic pestilence, experienced by the most weak and feeble. Aizen was above and beyond such crude, inane sentiment. His life was his own, and he would live it as he pleased, regardless of consequence, or outcome. He had nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all.
"Ah, really? For real? Not even killin' me, is it? Aw, come on, no guilt whatsoever on yer end? Not even a teensy, tiny, lil' bit?"
This had to be taking place in his mind. That had to be the sole and only reasonable, and rational explanation. It couldn't be anything else. How else could the voice go on and anticipate, yet alone respond, to all these inner musings that Aizen was prevented from verbalizing out loud?
Isolation could have a terrifying control over the perception of reality, twisting and warping it to unrecognizable, unfathomable degrees, conjuring up the most insane, outlandish scenarios. And what should make sense, simply no longer did.
To sum it up, Aizen Sosuke, by far, preferred to reluctantly admit that he was slowly going mad than accept the possibility of there being someone, or something, else with them in this prison.
"Oh? Ya'd rather be a lil' crazy, than admit I'm here? Still think I ain't real, doncha, C'ptain?"
There was an ice-cold breath against Aizen's ear then. And lips ghosting the skin of his earlobe. And a hand, firmly gripping his shoulder in a cruelly tight grasp.
"Am I still not real enough for ya?"
An uncomfortable series of shivers ran down the length of his spine, and yet he remained rigid, showing nothing. Or at least, he would genuinely hope that he didn't.
Because, inwardly? He was just about certain something cracked. Ever so little, ever so slightly, before he reigned it all in.
No. It simply couldn't...be. Impossible. Him? Here? Alive? Since when? By what vile miracle?
There was absolutely no way that for...Heaven knows how long now - had it been days, months? - that there had been someone else with him here. No. It didn't make sense. Had there actually been a person in this prison cell, even hidden, they would've been found, sensed by the guards. Heck, Aizen himself would have sensed another's presence - even bound and limited as he was, being aware of someone else's spiritual pressure in his vicinity was something he could still do. Consequently, there wasn't anyone besides himself, confined here, albeit the entirety of Muken.
And yet...
Aizen Sosuke absolutely had no logical, concrete way, to refute the hand gripping his shoulder.
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When the stifling moment of being downright unnerved by this insane newfound reality of his, Aizen once again, made a firm point - more like a conscious effort, rather - to ignore the voice- Well, the presence. But that was understandably difficult to do, with a presence who would just, not, stop, TALKING.
It was truly nonstop chatter. Which would make sense considering who the voice belonged to. He had always been a talkative chap - his silver tongue had always been his strength, to be fair. But right now, it was nettling Aizen every nerve, invading almost every waking moment of his, to the point he could no longer hear his own thoughts.
"Do be quiet," gritted out Aizen eventually, one day, finally giving in, and addressing the voice.
"Fucking EXCUSE me?!"
Aizen blinked in the darkness. That in no way sounded like the voice. ...Another one? Oh? Oh. Right. He had completely forgotten that he was being visited at the moment. Not by the voice. No, it was someone else. A real person. From the Gotei 13 above. Shuuhei Hisagi, of all people.
In hindsight, him being down here in Muken to see him should not be that much of a surprise. Because, although the 9th Division was mainly known for specializing in being on standby for combat as one of the main security forces of the Gotei 13, it also traditionally oversaw arts and culture. And for this reason, the division was made in charge of the Seireitei's News Magazine. Thus, he could only, correctly, assume the 9th Division's Lieutenant was here to interview him.
"Not you," intoned Aizen with a shake of his head, earning audible surprise on the other's part.
"...Who ELSE would you be even talking to?" muttered Hisagi quietly, his frustration palpable "Listen. I'm in no mood for your manipulations, Aizen. Just answer these questions I have here, so I can leave, and finish the damn article for our magazine. Please, and thank you very much."
Mildly amused, Aizen parted his lips to utter something - probably something vile and mordant. But immediately clamped his mouth tight shut, when that voice abruptly ghosted his ear again.
"Careful, C'ptain," whispered the voice "Ya might start comin' across to 'em as ravin' MAD."
A sentiment akin to dread crawled under his skin, but once again, Aizen did not show a thing. However, he had to admit that he no longer knew how to process his absurdly bizarre situation. It all came down to a very pertinent question in the end really. Was the voice a figment, or real? A voice that could read his mind, and could come in contact with him, but no one could see. Because, unless the Gotei 13 collectively opted to severely mess with him, Aizen was pretty sure someone would have pointed out by now this presence hovering around him. Obstinately.
Initially, Aizen opted against asking aloud the question that had been taunting him for so long, choosing to focus on this exchange instead, diligently answering the Lieutenant's questions - and occasionally sinking in a derisive, biting jab or two, for his own personal, cruel amusement.
But when their talk came to an end, and Hisagi got up to leave, Aizen decided why the hell not. It wouldn't hurt to be sure, would it?
"Hisagi-kun," called out Aizen evenly, leading the aforementioned to halt in his retreating steps "I have a question, if I may."
There was a pause, of contemplation, for a moment, before Aizen heard the younger man sigh: "Yeah, I guess? What is it?"
Mulling over how to phrase his query for a moment or two, Aizen eventually posed his inquiry: "Has Inoue Orihime healed, or maybe even saved, the life of Ichimaru Gin at any given point?"
Silence, was the only response he got. At least, for a good moment or so, nothing but still quiet. But the slow growing ire from the Lieutenant was very much palpable to Aizen, near physical, like an incoming, violent punch was on its way. Oh, dear. Had he struck a nerve?
"Ichimaru Gin is gone - by your own hand, might I add," gritted out Hisagi, in icy, cold rage "And now, because of you, Matsumoto-!"
As the Lieutenant cut himself off, his tone becoming thick with emotion, Aizen rolled his eyes. It always came down to her, didn't it? Matsumoto Rangiku. ...Tch.
Be it Hisagi Shuuhei or that pure, white snake, how much they valued and cherished this single woman, was ridiculous. Surely, just like it had been for Ichimaru Gin, she would be the death of this fool too, eventually. It was but a matter of time. And of course, she wouldn't be to blame. No, never. Women who had people wrapped round their fingers, were never guilty of anything. This, was one of the reasons Aizen, on top of not trusting people in general, trusted women less – after all, he and them, were too awfully alike for him to ever think about trusting them.
"Kindly show some respect, Aizen - if you're even capable of it," intoned Hisagi sharply then, cutting through Aizen's musings like a knife would butter, before speaking to the guards present "I'm done here. Shut him up."
And with that, Aizen was silenced once again, to be left in the surrounding darkness and silence, completely and utterly alone. Well, no. Not alone. Aizen, unfortunately, wasn't alone anymore.
"Come now, C'ptain. You should know better than to speak of the dead. They could haunt ya."
And would probably never be alone again.
The End.
A/N: And here we go! Shire-san, my dear friend, wishing you a wonderful and lovely Birthday! May all your dreams, resolutions and more come true! I sincerely hope you'll enjoy this lil' fic, I really had such a blast writing it X3 I honestly wish it was more Gin-centric for ya than it is, but I don't control my muse, sadly T-T I hope it was a nice read, regardless? Maybe? Hopefully?
Also, if this is confusing for anyone, woo! That means my job is done, tee hee XD No, for real, I wanted it to remain ambiguous as to what Gin is in this fic. Is he real? Is he not? Up to you :3Anyways, thank ya'll SO much for giving this fic a moment of your time, hope you enjoyed it! Until next time, take care and be safe! Bella Ciao!