The Fallen Series: Part II - Dignity Falls

by Seth's Kiss

AU: The Other War was won by Aizen, with the Seireitei conquered, the losing side powerless and all enslaved. Taken away to the Human World, Ichigo, Grimmjow and Byakuya are subjected to the most demeaning of indignities. Will they put aside their differences and stand together as one? Or will they lose themselves and drift apart? DARK fic. Rated M. Same warnings as in Part I.

4. Part Two: Chapter 2 P2

The Fallen Series (a Bleach Fanfiction) by Seth's Kiss:

A/N: Hello, ladies, gents and everyone else! So, as stated in the previous update, this is the rest of Chapter 2! And I don't need to add anything to that, I think. Please enjoy!

Rating for this chapter: Exactly the same as the former one, since this is still the 2nd chapter.

P.S: You'll find that the poll for this fic is still open if you're willing to vote. You only need to check my profile and place a vote. I'll keep it open until Chapter 3 (next chapter), so please feel free to pick what could eventually be, somewhere, at some point, within the flow of this fic. If there is something else that you'd like to add that isn't featured in the poll, please send me a PM or leave a review.

Poll: What will you be willing to read in the upcoming chapters?

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Part Two: Dignity Falls:

Chapter 2: Under the Twilights (Part 2):

After leaving the basement behind like a bad nightmare, true to her word, the girl pulled the blue-haired male away from any likely patrons, as well as the events going down in the halls.

Making their way back through the main hall, she went straight over for the large entrance doors - passing by the front desk where Millie and Tora both stood instead of Leona - whereas Grimmjow had, carefully, glanced across the crowd, hoping to pick up on either of the other two, but it was in vain. The kid and the noble were nowhere in sight.

What he did get to observe however, was that as they went by the crowd of people, those who noticed the magenta-haired girl, instantly dipped their heads towards her in elegant reverence. She would respond with a polite nod of her own, but kept her features entirely expressionless, not a smile to her lips, not a single blink of her large eyes. She truly did uphold her namesake.

As they both stepped out into the cool, thinly fogged air of the night and descended the front stairs, she then sat down on the very last step and closed her eyes, breathing in and out deeply.

Slowly sitting down also, the former Espada glanced at the quiet girl, her features blank and giving nothing away, before then looking out at the calm scenery in front of him, mind reeling due to recent events and so many questions - and one of them was sitting right next to him.

Besides what he had already perceived in regards to her mysterious and mystifying attributes, it was truly amazing how this girl could flit so quickly and easily between two very different faces. Truth to be told, it was as if she made it so that everyone and all saw only two sides to her. An incredibly sweet and endearing side, filled with courteous civility - depending on the person. And an impassive apathy, with a chilling detachment and deadly insensitivity to her demeanour - again, depending on the person. She'd even resort to flitting between both sides on some occasions - yet again, depending on the person.

She acted like she had nothing else but those two. And the former Arrancar couldn't quite tell which one really reflected who - or what - she was, even though he definitely had a feeling that the first one was the faked behaviour. He might be entirely wrong, but he'd undeniably be thinking that. At least, for now...

Because in all honesty, what Grimmjow really needed to focus on, was how to get out of here-

"Don't bother," cautioned the magenta-haired girl casually, her eyes closed shut as she rubbed her fingers to her temples in slow circles "Once a person - turned into a doll - sets foot on these grounds, they can't ever leave. Trust me, don't try. You'll regret it."

"...Are you a fuckin' mind reader?"

The ghost of an amused smile touched her lips: "Nope. Very little of that for me, thanks. I'm just that good at telling what a person's thinking about."

Indeed, the former Espada had been glancing over the grounds before staring at the gates ahead, trying to figure a way out. And now, he felt quite deterred.

Not because of the warning in itself, but how she had said it. With no infliction in her tone, no emotions to her features, uttering her words like stating an irrefutable fact: 'it was impossible.'

Well, damn. There goes that.

"Could you please open this for me?" she asked all of a sudden, handing out a large bottle of liquor to him, a distant expression to her features "I don't even have quarter of the strength you surely have."

In addition to the bottle, the girl was also loosely holding, in her other hand, two wine glasses.

Grimmjow merely stared, eyes wide with disbelief. ...She did not have all that minutes before.

Did she just conjure them out of thin air? ...Was she a witch?

"Where the fuck did you get that?" he asked, his tone just as surprised as his expression, yet reaching out all the same to open it for her, the cap coming off with a pop after a blunt twist.

"On our way out," she replied smoothly with a pleasant smile "One of the patrons gave it to me. Some of them can be generous like that. Well, less times than most."

"...The hell?! You didn't fuckin' have anything when we stepped out here," argued the former Arrancar, quite positive that - as sharp-eyed as he was - he would have noticed something like that taking place. No one had approached them or given her anything.

"Oh really?" she blinked, before she giggled musically, childishly, all while lightly chiding him "You mustn't have been paying attention then. Silly Pantera."

Vivid blue eyes narrowed guardedly.

There she was, doing it again. Acting as if he was totally out of it. It was quite convincing, giving that she seemed so much like a child. Innocent.

And so, he'd almost believe her...If he wasn't completely stubborn and confident of what he saw - or rather, in this case, didn't see.

"Cut the bullshit, girlie. I'm not fuckin' buying it."

At that, her mask of sugariness swiftly vanished to leave room for her mask of indifference, a single eyebrow raising upwards as she regarded him: "...Are you calling me a liar, Pantera?"

"The bloody hell if I know. As far as I'm aware, everyone fuckin' lies when it's convenient for them," stated Grimmjow knowingly, as he hurriedly handed the bottle back to her, eyes averted as a slight chill ran through him.

...Shoot. She was not someone to mess with.

"Unless it's fuckin' something that they inherently can't do. Like, they can't bloody lie even if they wanted to. ...Or something."

Doll's eyes widened faintly. She knew exactly who he was talking about. But she was really stunned that he knew this about Sosuke, and she had to wonder why and how the feline knew.

The inability to lie was indeed an inherent trait, one exclusively all the Children of Lust - the Aizen - were cursed to endure. Well, there was also allegedly another inability...one that irked her to no end.

"Huh," uttered the girl after a moment, an enigmatic shine in her eyes, before it was gone the next second as she then politely held out the second glass towards him "Want some?"

"No, thanks," declined the feline, to which she merely nodded, right before placing the bottle and the other glass down between them, in case he changed his mind.

After having poured some for herself, she quietly began savouring her drink with measured sips, before abruptly letting out a heavy sigh.

"I need a break," she voiced tiredly, as she closed her eyes yet again "I desperately need one."

The feline wordlessly raised his eyebrows at that. Was she going to start a therapy session, with him as an improv-shrink?

Noting that the girl had purposely and smoothly changed the conversation but deciding not to mention it, the blue-haired male suggested nonchalantly: "Why not take one then?"

"It's not that easy," pouted Doll complainingly, as she promptly dropped her forehead to her knees, hair trailing along, while perfectly holding out her glass in front of her with both hands.

"Not if you're the one making it fuckin' complicated," he mentioned offhandedly, causing her giggle lightly in a soft pitch that held no mirth.

"Oh, I wish it were that simple," she uttered without intonation, as she languorously sat back up and daintily set her chin upon a propped up hand, her nebulous gaze completely elsewhere.

They both simply remained like that for a moment in silence, lost in their respective thoughts, before she spoke up again: "Well, a promise is a promise. Since you did help me out, what can I do for you? Don't push it and ask for the impossible though."

If his ears weren't playing tricks on him, he would've sworn he heard a stutter in her caution, somewhere along one of the letter 'p's she had uttered, dragging them out a little longer.

He hadn't really been paying close attention, but Grimmjow did suppose that the petite doll-like girl was at her sixth glass by now. Or was it the seventh? Probably even more than that. He wasn't too sure. ...Nor could he tell with the bottle still, bizarrely enough, looking rather full.

But, that was beside the point.

Right now, Grimmjow could definitely seize this as a golden opportunity to seek the answers he and the other two desperately and badly needed to get through with Débauche's intricacies. And by playing it smooth and subtle, he'd probably even be able to fish out any details that might be helpful, in time, should they try to recover their freedom. However, before that could happen, knowing about this place in every single aspect of it - since, allegedly there was no way to leave, there had to be another way out - was definitely a must.

There was a slight problem, however. Given what he had seen and heard so far in regards to this girl, led to assume that she was possibly devoted and dedicated to Aizen, like everyone else within Débauche's walls. So, would she actually answer if he asked? Well, it was worth a try.

"Answer a few questions of mine. Mostly about this fuckin' place," he disclosed, deciding to be halfway honest for now, before he sceptically raised eyebrow at her "Can you do that?"

"I guess I can try," drawled out Doll leisurely, the alcohol finally numbing at a certain part of her she desperately needed gone - one which wasn't her lucidity.

She then uttered knowingly, an eyebrow arched up high in private amusement: "The other dolls giving you the cold shoulder, aren't they?"

"Unlike someone," noted the feline, before sneering mordantly "What fuckin' gave it away?"

"They're often like that. I'm not. Not all the time anyhow," shared the girl with an odd glimmer in her large doll-like eyes, before shrugging dismissively "Don't mind them."

"Have no fuckin' intention to," scoffed the former Espada, before he inquired upon one of the first things that he had yet to figure out "What the fuck's a fuckin' Mingle Night?"

At that, Doll honestly couldn't hold back the genuinely amused look that crossed her features. She might be getting drunker than she had intended. Oh, what the hell.

"That's your first question? Wait, isn't that tonight?" she asked lightly, forcing herself to not laugh, while he nodded "Well, each day of the month here is different. In aspect mostly, because in depth, it's all the same really."

"No fuckin' kidding."

Inwardly entertained by the other's cynicism, Doll then pursed her lips thoughtfully, trying to find a simple and clear-cut way to answer the feline's question: "On Mingle Nights, all you have to do truly is walk around, looking pretty. And when you catch someone's eye - and fit their fancy, fantasy or whatever after a nice talk - you go off with them to one of those rooms - you know, the ones from the halls. You'll get a key from our dear Leona - or whoever else is at the front desk - and then give them the time - night - of their lives. It is important to know though that these are one of the only nights where you can refuse someone. It is best not to. But if they put you off with their demands or quirks, you're allowed to say no."

Letting what he had just been told sink in, the blue-haired male remained composed but - on the inside - perked up at that last bit, instantly viewing it as an advantage for the other two: "You don't fuckin say? Huh."

"You don't look too hyped by this. Don't you care?" she inquired upon seeing the other's utter passivity on this matter. She wasn't really expecting for him to jump with joy, but still...

"I'll take things as they are. And really, I just don't give a fuck. At least, not when it comes to me," he expressed unfeelingly, but with absolute honesty, shrugging yet again.

'He and you have quite a lot in common,' had shared Sosuke when he had told her about the three new additions to his dollhouse, detailing each one of them for her so she'd know what to expect 'Indifference is one of them'.

Seemingly so. His impassiveness was indeed something she could relate to and understand. But it remained rather distinct from her own. There was something there, unknown, unseen, but capable of saving him. She, on the other hand, was too far gone to be saved...

"Apparently, you don't," she observed, sharply casting away her dark and negative thinking, before she then raised an eyebrow at him inquisitively "But, why are you asking then?"

"For reasons," uttered Grimmjow plainly, before glancing at her with stern tenacity when she stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

When he didn't, she smiled wide with that artificial amiability of hers, nodding approvingly: "You're distrustful. That's certainly a great trait to have here in Débauche."

Despite downing down glass after glass, the girl did sound quite lucid, but with erratic stutters in her more outspoken speech, and a dark flush to her much more expressive features, it was quite easy to point out to her current state.

And the former Espada would have normally felt a little guilty for taking advantage of a drunk, but he wasn't sure if he could see this girl as an ally or not. Therefore, until he could determine that, he'll drown down his culpability for now.

"What else can you tell me? About this fuckin' shithole of a place?"

Grimmjow wasn't too sure, but he thought he caught her eyes flash briefly in what looked like displeasure, most likely at something he had said. ...What had he said? That this place was a- Well, yeah, it was. Why would that bother her?

"Well, the first you should know, is that nothing is for free," she cited casually as she glanced away, grimacing due to herself quoting Sosuke - which she blamed entirely on the alcohol, by the way - before she twirled a hand idly through the length of her pigtailed hair "If you want to know more, you'll have to do things for me. Do this, do that, you know. Stuff like that. ...So?"

As she eyed him patiently, expectantly, the blue-haired male merely frowned, rather cautious.

He wasn't overly fond of another having a hold, an advantage over him, no matter the reason. And yet, this was a too good an opportunity to pass. He'd just have to tread VERY prudently.

"Whatever," Grimmjow nodded slowly, attempting to appear nonchalant about it, before he was swift to add consistently "But if it's too fuckin' weird, I reserve the right to refuse."

"Fair enough," conceded Doll quite easily, surprising the other "I'll do you a favour then. For every time you give me a hand, I'll tell you one thing about the patrons and one thing about Débauche in itself. How's that?"

'But fuckin' nothing about the dolls, or you, or 'Suzuki-sama', right?' observed the former Arrancar shrewdly, but acquiesced to her bargain anyways. Anything was better than nothing.

"So, you want to know the dark and murky details of this forsaken hellhole?" she hiccupped, quickly apologizing for it, before she then giggled drunkenly "You're in for a hell of a ride."

As she began her narrating, unreserved drunkenness letting her tongue run loose, the feline frankly wished he could have taken his question back.

Since it was too late, and he was in urgent need for answers - and this, not just for himself as he wasn't alone in this affair - he decided to bear it, eventually holding out the glass she had offered him earlier.

But, unlike her gradual inebriated state, no matter how many drinks he downed, not one single drop was making him tipsy - in hopes of making what he was hearing easier... And heavens knew he drank, the bottle of liquor filling back up every time it was empty.

In Naruki City, the Asano flat.

It was quiet. Very quiet. Peacefully quiet even. And yet, it was not truly a comfortable silence.

In the living room, Keigo was so concentrated on valiantly battling with his homework, that he was oblivious to the tension hanging in the air between his sister - who was tidying around - and their guests - Hallibel and three others, silently seated around him, lost in their thoughts.

The four, though mostly pensive, were also attempting to erase themselves from Mizuho's attention, but she was still glaring at them all the same, evidently irritated with their presence.

Keigo had pleaded with her to let them stay and, despite being very against it, she eventually relented, letting her little brother take care of these strangers from a totally different universe.

Mizuho had to wonder, by following the aforementioned definition, if that made them aliens. The whole concept she had been presented with - as they had considerately explained to her who, if not what, they were - would be slightly more acceptable to her if that were the case.

Pushing away the loopy thought, she carried on to dust her way around the furniture whilst keeping a sharp, vigilant eye on their 'guests' - harbouring those distant, drained and defeated looks ever since they had set foot there - and she found herself recalling how it had all started.

Home early after a long day, Mizuho was happily relaxing and watching TV, when there was a sudden series of frantic knocking on the front door, startling her and instantly making her angry as she usually tended to be for absolutely everything.

Who dared disturb her at this time? And here she was hooked onto a real good movie, damn!

Charging like a bull for the door, she pried it upon with vehement violence, ready to bite the head off of whoever stood there at the entrance, no matter their excuse.

Upon seeing her brother, her senseless ill-temper only just escalated, not yet registering the oddity of Keigo knocking when he could have simply used his own set of keys.

"KEI-GO! WHAT THE HELL IS ALL THE FREAKING RACKET FOR-?!"

She then cut herself on her own upon fully taking in the scene unfolding right on the doorstep.

Along with an atypically serious expression to his strained, agitated features, her younger brother stood there, out in the cold, inimical air of the dying day, and he was not alone.

Surrounded by three women, Keigo was hunched over from trying, with great difficulty, to keep upright an apparently unconscious male, from toppling down to a heap on the ground.

With their eyes lowered, the three women beside her brother - one of them with the burden of helping the other two to hold up - were all very different from one another, but they all shared two common traits. One, they were all badly battered and terrible shape, as though they had just ran away from a fierce warzone. Two, they were barely dressed, clad in nothing but long, tattered t-shirts.

After staring blankly at the bizarre picture painted out before her, Mizuho then drawled out the first thing that popped up into her mind, in a complete deadpan tone: "I'll have you know, Asano Keigo, that you're still a couple years too young to go out clubbing. No matter how old your drinking buddies might be."

Frantically shaking his head at his sister's absurd assumption, the teenager exclaimed vividly: "You got it all wrong! Please, sis, he - they - need help!"

Urgency in his voice prompting her to react before she could think any further, Mizuho swiftly swooped in to give her sibling a hand, before ushering the girls to follow and get in.

Closing the door behind them, she and her brother both carried the passed out male all the way in and laid him out on the sofa, the others following closely behind.

As the three females carefully lowered themselves to sit on the ground, the brown-haired teen dashed off to get some gauze, disinfectant and other medical-related supplies.

Rushing back, Keigo swiftly began tending to the quartet's wounds, whereas Mizuho sternly demanded to know exactly what was going.

Barely aware to meet the elder Asano's demands, they all left it up to one amongst them - a tall tanned blonde named Hallibel Tia - to explain their situation to Mizuho as best as she could.

And what the sister was told, was not at all, what she would have ever imagined or expected...

"So, wait, wait. Let me see if I get all this," voiced the eldest Asano in slow motion, frowning with a flustered expression as she struggled to make sense of what she had just heard "In a world parallel to ours, you - along with 'shinigami' - exist. And by definition, they're the good guys and you the bad. But hello, face-heel-turn! A shinigami decided on breaking the habit and becoming a baddie, recruiting you along the way through manipulations. But then, there was an immense war between the two parties - one of them wanting to destroy Karakura and the other wanting to protect it. The latter won, with the big bad boss going to jail and his lackeys either dead or roaming free. Only no happy ending, because a third party interferes, screwing the whole thing up and reversing the situation in such a revolutionary manner, that the bad guys are now in full control. And you, who in the meantime had sided with the good guys to get revenge for what Mr. Bad Boss did to you - and to the 'Feline King' especially - ended up receiving one hell of a punishment for your actions. ...That it?"

As everyone just blinked, the tanned blonde remained mute for a moment, which extended itself as if she was processing the other's words, before she acquiesced: "That's...one way to put it."

"Huh," uttered Keigo's sister numbly, unable to formulate anything else or think straight at the moment, whereas Keigo, all the while, had carefully did the best he could to patch up the wounded - which they courteously expressed their gratitude for.

Having eventually pulled away as they let the 'beings' rest a little, the siblings watched the four of them from a distance, with Mizuho frowning warily, uncertainly, before she shifted her focus onto her brother, her brow knitting further: "So? Anything you want to tell me?"

"Sure," accepted Keigo effortlessly, before he began pointing "Ok, um... That one over there is Hallibel-san. That one is Appacci and the other girl is Cirucci. And the guy's called Ggio."

"I didn't ask you for their names, Keigo," she sighed, rolling her eyes before she narrowed them, curious and cautious, and very much concerned "How did you even meet these guys?"

"Oh, right. To make it simple, they're friends of a friend of mine. And they...came to me for help. So, I helped them."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," nodded the auburn-haired teenager, before he bit his lip hesitantly, fidgeting "So, um... Can they stay?"

"Keigo."

"Seriously, please," implored the younger sibling, knowing exactly why she was reacting so negatively, but really not wanting her to, not this one time at least "Look, I'd never ask you something like this, but- They really have nowhere else to go."

"I don't know," muttered Mizuho with a deep, disgruntled frown, gaze straying off to the side.

"Come on, sis. Let's be nice for a change. We can't just keep shutting out the world forever. Please. Pretty please?"

Shoulders about to slump in defeat when he saw his sister remain firm, the younger Asano swiftly perked up when she then let out a jaded sigh, eventually surrendering: "...Ok, fine."

"Thanks! I owe you," stated Keigo, smiling gratefully at his sister, using that childlike, boyish grin of his, making Mizuho inwardly melt, but she simply rolled her eyes at him and snorted...

Such is how the small Asano family of two now had to deal these four freeloading lodgers. On the bright side, they were not a hassle, nor were they any trouble. They kept to themselves, helped with what they could and weren't that talkative or prying. Real wonders... Anyone else would have been a grateful host to such individuals.

But not Mizuho. She just didn't want them here. And her reason for wanting this, was not because they were complete strangers, or because they were, allegedly, 'not human'.

Like most of their classmates' non-existent, near-never-present or very useless parents, Keigo and Mizuho's parents were usually miles away on business, which lasted long periods of time. So the elder sister had started, quite early, to take the role of a surrogate adult all on her own, downright refusing anyone - relative, neighbour or other - who'd try to lend the siblings a hand. She didn't need any help, she had told them. Everything was fine, she would say.

In young Mizuho's head, if it helped that avoiding people would allow her to not waste her time and feelings getting attached to someone - only for them to leave in the end - then it was all perfectly fine. It was narrow-minded and idiotic in general of her, but she just couldn't help it.

Glancing over again to where everyone was quietly sitting, she wondered when these strange beings had the intention of leaving...and just how her brother would react to their departure.

Scratching at his head in frustration, Keigo glared daggers at the sheet of paper in front of him, mentally cursing whoever it was that had been horribly bored enough to have invented maths. Seriously, apart from the most basic form of calculations, what use were they?

Did one truly need to know to the most complex of equations to buy groceries? Or to know about vectors and who-knows-the-heck-else to find one's way around the house or down the street? How about the Pythagorean Theorem? And trigonometry? Unless teachers were trying to make EVERY single student an architect, an engineer or some high degree drama like that, what the hell did anyone else in life need those for?

All of a sudden, quite abruptly, the brown-haired teen felt a cold, ominous sensation fall over him, sending unpleasant, chilling shivers down his spine and drawing sweat from his brow.

As the pen fell straight out of Keigo's hand with a thud, no one truly paid any mind as the teenager slowly, uneasily shifted his full attention away from his mathematics homework.

No one noticed...until he spoke up.

"Uh, guys?" called out the younger Asano sibling suddenly in a hushed, faltering tone, with his wide eyes riveted ahead, a twinge of escalating fear in them "C- Can bats be that b-big?"

The five other occupants in the room all turned to catch a glimpse of what had made Keigo react in such a manner, and, instantly, four of them went stiff while the fifth gasped in horror.

Beyond the window, a figure enshrouded in shadows had just touched down onto the balcony, with rather large, wide devil-like wings extending grandly from its indistinct form.

Eyes narrowing, Hallibel and the other three stood up without delay, hands already upon their zanpaktou, while Keigo remained utterly petrified and Mizuho dropped the duster, her voice trembling greatly.

"Wha- What kind of monster is that? A d-demon?"

"The Cuatro Espada," articulated Appacci edgily, correcting the other's statement despite it clarifying absolutely nothing for the terrified young woman.

A few tense seconds passed in complete stillness, before Hallibel then turned to lock serious, concerned eyes with their two hosts, her tone gentle but stern: "Asano junior and senior. Go by the door. If anything goes wrong, run. Run and don't look back."

Upon hearing those words, Keigo snapped out of his scared stiff trance, going into full alarm instead as he stared wide-eyed at the blonde, speaking in an apprehensive rush: "B-But-! You can't fight that - I know you can't tell anymore, so I'm telling you - it's too strong! And-!"

Abruptly cutting himself off, the brown-haired teen bit his lip and lowered his eyes, features tight and wistful: "And you'll die."

Touched by his concern, the former Tercero Espada reached out to place her steady hands on the teenager's shaking shoulders, wordlessly locking eyes with him.

Under her gentle, yet determined touch, Keigo felt safe, knew he would be safe, but he sensed also that that safeness wouldn't be extended to anyone in this room beyond him and his sister.

Sacrifice...

As the brown-haired boy's lower lip trembled, Hallibel gave him a soft smile, before her firm expression returned to her features as she quietly addressed Keigo's sister: "Do as we say. Please promise us that."

Sensing the gravity of whatever this situation was, Mizuho nodded quickly, before grabbing her brother and, despite his protests, dragging him over to stand back by the front door.

Keeping a steady hold on him, she glanced at Hallibel and the others from over her shoulder, mind racing and still undecided whether opening her door to them had been a good thing or not.

Once the siblings were distanced far enough from the looming threat, the four then clustered together, standing close and strong as a protective barrier between the window and the door, before they held up their weapons at the ready.

...However, after a beat of nail-biting tension, the standstill had yet to go anywhere, nobody moving a single muscle, apart from their hearts that were thudding agitatedly in their chests.

Among Aizen's former soldiers, Ggio was the most anxious. What made him this in particular was the fact that none of them had sensed the Espada. At all.

Given recent circumstances, their spiritual awareness became near equivalent to naught, and if Keigo hadn't said anything, they probably would've never known. The worst thing in all this was that a human currently had more spiritual awareness than them. Frightening...

"Well?" hissed Cirucci under her breath as she started to get impatient, the suffocating wait making her restless.

Totally misunderstanding the female's question, Ggio let out an uneasy, shuddering breath: "We'll never survive against him, especially not if he's in his Resurreción form."

"That's obvious," snorted Appacci scathingly, her tone derisive yet without a trace of humour "What's not obvious, is why is he here? Aizen said if we disappeared, he'd let us be, right?"

Pretty eyes narrowing with blistering, unreserved loathing upon hearing the immortal's name, Cirucci's lips twisted into an ugly sneer: "Apparently, we haven't disappeared far enough."

"Something's odd though," intervened Hallibel suddenly, speaking softly as she scrupulously scrutinized the unmoving figure ahead, immobile since it had set foot down.

This caught the other three's attention, with Appacci inquiring: "Hallibel-sama?"

Emerald green eyes gliding over to those standing at her side, she slowly uttered her internal question for them to hear, leading them to also pause and consider: "Why isn't he attacking?"

"Maybe he's here for a reason other than killing us," suggested Ggio, frowning in thought, before he chuckled nervously and shook his head "But that's me being way too optimistic."

Rather than reprimand him with an annoyed glare like Cirucci and Appacci, the blonde female actually seemed to contemplate this as a possibility, before she began to vigilantly make her way forward: "Let's find out."

Although Ggio and the two females appeared intensely against whatever idea had currently formed itself inside the tall, tanned female's head, they didn't stop her, warily watching as she staunchly walked over to the window, the dark figure behind it still there and motionless.

"Please be careful," whispered Keigo worriedly, quietly, but Hallibel didn't hear him, as she stepped out onto the balcony after prying the window open, before shutting it behind her.

Studying the darkened figure ahead - from which she could feel nothing, apart from a faint intimidating aura, only now - the blonde female knew, without doubt, that this was definitely the Cuatro Espada. But she couldn't find any explanation as to why he had yet to make a move.

Unwilling to take any risks, Hallibel swiftly raised her sword and, without hesitance, whipped the blade forwards, leaving it but a breadth away from what should be the Espada's neck.

Again, after a long moment, nothing happened, before the dark-haired bat's vacant, impassive voice rose, finally addressing her: "Please tell me you aren't serious, Tia Hallibel."

"I am, Schiffer," she confirmed steadfastly in turn, maintaining her stance just as threatening.

"Be reasonable," admonished Ulquiorra evenly, placing his fingers lightly against her blade "You cannot possibly fight in your condition."

"Yet I will gladly sacrifice myself to protect the ones standing behind me," Hallibel resolutely declared, struggling to keep her weapon in place underneath the pressure applied by the other.

Due to their actual significant difference in strength, her hold didn't last and, in the very next seconds, her zanpaktou flew out of her hands and onto the floor, leaving her wide open.

After a daunting pause in time, the Cuatro merely took a single step forward - coming forth into the dim light - and spoke up again, a faint hint of wonder to his tone: "Although you are now more human than ever, your aspect of death remains with you. Truly remarkable."

As Ulquiorra stepped out into the light, the first thing that caught the female's attention was that Ggio's apprehension was confirmed. The Espada was definitely in Resurreción form.

However, though utterly unchanged since she last saw him, the dark-haired Espada presently had his eyes blindfolded, leaving him utterly sightless to his surroundings and hence relying on his every other sense instead. All while leaving Hallibel profoundly confounded...

"Remember that my eyes serve Aizen-sama," pointed out the Cuatro effortlessly, easily sensing the other's bewilderment "If I can't see, then neither can he."

"Why would you do such a thing?" asked the tanned female, her blonde eyebrows raised high whilst fully lowering her guard, more out of incredulity than trust.

"Because he doesn't know that I am here," he confided, taking the other even further aback with his furtive insubordination, him of all the Espada "I came here on Grimmjow's behalf to see how you fared. In addition to you, I've also checked on Kurosaki Ichigo's family and friends from a distance - this too, at Grimmjow's request."

"Jeagerjaques lives?" enunciated the blonde female, sincerely stunned to hear this, before she then let out a soft sigh of relief when he nodded in confirmation "That's good to know. We were all under the impression Aizen had the intention of ending his life."

"He did at some point. However, Aizen-sama seems to have found another purpose for him."

At that, a wistful smile touched her lips, feeling a sense of contrition for the feline, despite the two of them often being at odds: "Fortunately or unfortunately enough, who can tell?"

"This boy," enunciated Ulquiorra, abruptly changing the subject, gesturing beyond where the female stood with a faint movement of his chin "He is a friend of Kurosaki Ichigo, isn't he?"

Shifting her attention behind over to those anxiously waiting inside, she paused for a second before she then signalled reassuringly at Appacci and the other two, watching as the tension noticeably evaporated from their frames, despite now harbouring perplexed expressions.

"I haven't told him," whispered Hallibel tightly, as she focused back on the Espada, before her features looked somewhat remorseful "He has asked about the Shinigami Substitute, but I didn't have the heart to tell him. I merely shared that I wasn't aware of where he was."

It wasn't a complete lie, to be honest.

Right after the Other War, she and all the other dissenter - and former - Arrancars had been separated from Grimmjow and everyone else, Ichigo included (1). So she was not lying when she said that she didn't know what happened - or was happening - to the orange-haired teen.

"That is not why I asked. Do not justify yourself if you believe that you did the right thing."

As the blonde frowned in silence, not convinced but considering his words, he spoke up yet again and steadily drew their conversation back to a prior point: "You have yet to answer me, Hallibel. How are you faring?"

Despite knowing that the other had no real common awareness of emotions, she could only retort unthinkingly, cynically: "How do you think?"

"You are less in number than you used to be," observed the dark-haired male via his senses, before he attempted a careful guess, while trying to be courteous as he mistook her tone for angered grief "I conclude that you've had losses. Should I offer my condolences?"

"They're not dead," contradicted Hallibel, but her tone very much lacked conviction as she once again glanced over her shoulder to where everyone - even the Asano siblings - was now seated, nervously waiting "But, to some here, they might just as well be."

"I don't understand," said the dark-haired Espada, a slight tilt of his head the only visible sign of his puzzlement.

"Alright, I will tell you what happened to us, Schiffer," allowed the blonde female eventually, before she named a condition, a cautioning tone to her voice "One thing, however. Do not burden Jeagerjaques more with whatever he already has. We can take care of ourselves."

At that, he could only acquiesce, respectfully conforming to her request: "You have my word."

And so she spoke.

After the events of the recent war - the Other War - which had wrecked the Seireitei from the inside out, Hallibel and the other former Arrancars in allegiance to Grimmjow were forced into captivity back in the Hueco Mundo.

There, Aizen had found time to munificently strip them of all their powers, rendering some of them as simple as mere, plain humans, with nothing but a little enhanced strength as a gift.

The others amongst them, even less fortunate, had their energy harnessed and transformed into blades with an eternal lifespan, out to live their immortality under the guise of a weapon.

Hence, Appacci found herself with Illfort as her weapon. Ggio was bound to Mila Rose as his blade. And Hallibel received Findor as her zanpaktou.

And, the cruellest of all, Cirucci's twin swords were none other than her little brother, Luppi, and her beloved lover, Abirama. The two dearest beings to her, so close, yet so out of reach.

Ulquiorra could only listen in silence as Tia Hallibel recounted the details of their experience.

There had been rumours amidst the current and new Espada concerning their former comrades being forced back to their most humanlike origins, as a punishment for rebelliously absconding from the immortal, but none of those rumours depicted the truth as what he knew now.

Death, indeed, would have been a far kinder fate.

Awhile back, long ago, he would have been oblivious as to how pained a situation like this could lead a person to be. Having gained a little insight on such things, Ulquiorra could find it in himself to at least show some form of support - was that the right word? ...Probably not - by using a couple of comforting words.

Only, he knew none.

Hence, he wisely chose to make use a tactic he had seen in play, which - although it wasn't quite the most efficient way - tended to allow a mind to remain occupied, by subtly smoothing the conversation onwards.

By now, the two of them were seated upon the floor, backs rested against the windowpanes, with Hallibel gazing absently ahead at the sky.

"Does it hurt?" he then inquired prudently, whilst also being slightly curious upon the matter at hand "What has been done to you?"

"No. Not for me, anyways," she replied, before considering how she truly felt about her current condition "It's simply strange to feel so...corporeal? If I can put it that way. Powerless, frail and so full of emotion. As Hollows, we become hollow, devoid of humanity, or at least lacking a big part of it. To suddenly have most of what made us once human back again, however, is certainly a lot to take in."

"And what of Nelliel? And your third Fracción? I also do not see nor sense Stark, Lilynette or even Eduardo here. What has happened to them?"

"I don't know," sighed the female heavily, not daring to think about it despite the thought of it plaguing her mind for a few days now "I don't know if they're dead, alive and like us, or just alive somewhere... And then, after thinking about, I'd rather not know. Anything that may not or may have happened to them...they've never deserved. Especially not Nelliel."

"None of you deserved this. This is cruel beyond measure," stated Ulquiorra abruptly, his tone holding firm finality to it "How unspeakably horrid of him."

This left Hallibel stunned speechless, and it took a while before she was able to talk again, her tone easily betraying her amazement: "I don't believe I've ever heard you speak ill of Aizen."

"I cannot deny that his actions are causing far too much harm."

Uncertainty settled on her tanned features, as she raised an eyebrow, trying to find logic in the other's words: "And yet you still side with him and serve him. Why?"

"You know very well why," replied the Espada, weightiness to his tone, which led to Hallibel eventually nodding after a moment, as she understood what he was saying.

"Out of us all, you and Rialgo Yammy were the only ones that were not coerced or compelled to serve Aizen. Nor were you influenced or intimidated into doing so. You chose to, out of your own will," she said softly, reciting what had been common knowledge amongst them in the past, before she then ventured with a hypothesis "But now, Schiffer, you regret it, don't you?"

"I regret nothing. I am loyal to Aizen-sama," asserted Ulquiorra steadily, but then, right after that, solidly countered that statement all the same "But I am not loyal to his ideals, and I never will be. Those I will find a way to oppose, in each and every possible way I can."

"You've changed, Schiffer," remarked Hallibel in awe, totally incredulous and wondering when such a feat happened to the very one Espada the least probable to change.

The dark-haired Espada didn't say anything in response, leaving the blonde female to ponder over the matter at hand hereby presented, before she came up with suggestion: "If this can be done with discretion, you would be a great ally to those in need."

"And that will not be you," stated the Cuatro, noting the way the former Arrancar had spoken.

"We can no longer be part of this conflict. We are significantly weaker than ever," shared Hallibel ruefully, before she vaguely gestured behind her "Had it not been for that boy, we had not even sensed your presence. In fact, even at this moment, I can't barely pick up anything and I'm this close to you. As of now and forth, we are utterly useless."

"No one is useless. Everyone has a purpose, as long as they're still living," said Ulquiorra, placing a gentle hand upon her shoulder before he stood, leaving her gobsmacked once again.

Hallibel could only stare. ...Was she dreaming? Ulquiorra of all people? Saying such things? Acting in this way? Why would he-?

Ah. All of a sudden, Hallibel believed that she could somewhat probably guess the reason. She might be completely off, but it was not totally absurd either.

By the time she recovered, the Espada was standing upon the balcony's ledge, ready to leave, so she promptly asked him: "What will you do now?"

"See if I can be an ally to those in need," declared Ulquiorra, gesturing majestically to the side which she swiftly followed, arching an eyebrow before a small smile flitted across her lips. He was pointing towards Karakura.

"Take care of her," drawled out the tanned female softly, before she then added jokingly "And let her rub off on you some more, will you?"

"I will," promised Ulquiorra sincerely, before nodding at his former comrade and taking his leave, as he spread his wings wide and flew away.

Although, Hallibel, bemused and faintly amused as she stared at the retreating shadow soaring under the moonlit sky, found herself realizing that he hadn't denied her jest in the slightest...

Back in Karigura Town.

"My, my. What a lovely sight," drawled out Aizen with an amused smirk to his lips, his dark eyes raptly gazing at two out of his three captives. Only, neither could hear him. Nor see him for that matter, despite being coerced to face and kneel down in front of the immortal.

Collared, hands bound behind their back within leather cuffs, blindfolded with black silk, bit gags wedged painfully between their teeth, and earmuffs over their ears, Ichigo and Byakuya were almost completely and utterly sensory deprived - their sense of touch still theirs if not restricted - not all in tune with their surroundings. Completely unaware of what was going on, the two bound males - barefoot and clad in nothing but their tight-fitted leather trousers - were awfully tense, nervous, their frames stiff and rigid, their breathing uneven and strained, warily oblivious, and very much expecting the worst.

After attending to certain affairs, Aizen had rendezvoused with Jugo again at a later hour - also asking for the latter to bring the pair now present - back in the same room as before, his 'office', in order to discuss his captives' fate further. Hence, here they were.

And the blonde Twilight truly had an excellent flair for the dramatic. Thus his presentation of the teenager and the noble to the dark brown-haired male, and the latter had to admit that it was rather fetching, and also quite inviting.

Moving away from his desk, the immortal leisurely made his way over, steps holding weight and reverberation as he moved, cruelly increasing the tension for the pair, feeling footsteps but unable to know who was approaching them, before the noble made a startled sound when a hand suddenly wrapped around his throat, Aizen's hold careful but unforgivingly firm.

Byakuya was about to violently pull away, but he instantly froze in the very next seconds, as he felt an unwelcoming familiarity in how his neck was being held, his entire frame tensing up in absolute alarm. ...That one, small gesture was so commanding and imposing, in so many very unpleasant ways.

Smirking broadly upon seeing the effortless power he now had over the dark-haired male, the child of chaos then allowed his other hand to slowly, freely venture upwards, heading for the other's jailed mouth.

Slipping his fingers past the Kuchiki's pried open lips, Aizen munificently coated his digits within the other's saliva, before dragging the wetness down the noble's chin, under the guise of drool. And, while Jugo smirked deridingly at the sight and the immortal's eyes darkened sinfully, the 6th Division's captain could only flush in horrified humiliation and indignant ire, his inability to speak up against this mortifying him even more.

But Byakuya did not dare pull away.

Chuckling in morbid amusement, Aizen ruthlessly let the torment persist - tracing a wet path over Byakuya's taut skin in meticulous detail, from his bound face to his exposed chest and abdomen, with his poor victim flinching or shuddering every now and then - before eventually withdrawing fully, much to the noble's deep relief, a significant change in his breathing a tell-tale to that.

Aware that it wasn't any of his business, Jugo couldn't help but blink curiously as he saw his master stride away, without submitting the younger male to a similar treatment. The blonde male was partly aware of his master's designs - as the latter had shared a few of them with the Twilights - and he knew the basics of what was in store for the dark-haired male. But the immortal didn't mention anything crucial or pertinent about the younger male - with the exception of requesting lenience on the Twilights' part - leading him to wonder. Why was Hero-chii even here at all? ...He'll probably ask Suzuki-sama about this at a later time.

"Tell me, how is it going, Jugo dear?" inquired the child of chaos smoothly, as he went back to leaning against the desk, locking his dark brown eyes with the other's stony green ones.

"Wonderfully," smirked Jugo sadistically, respectfully standing straight and placing his hands behind his back, like a good soldier "We Twilights haven't had this much fun in ages."

"That's indeed wonderful to hear," conceded Aizen lightly with a condescending smile, before he lowered his gaze back onto the bound pair at the blonde's feet "What else can you tell me?"

Pursing his lips as he meticulously considered his master's question, Jugo, blonde eyelashes fluttering, tilted his head to the side, as he slowly, diligently constructed his reply: "The boy-"

"Shujinkou."

"Ah, yes. Forgive me, Suzuki-sama. I'm having a real hard time calling him that," smiled the blonde Twilight ruefully as the other corrected him "I've been using Hero-chii instead though."

The child of chaos smirked at this. It was indeed just as fitting, if not more endearing, but the tag chosen was meant to shame - the teen's reaction to it only serving as emphasis. And he was not going to change it. That will be what the patrons were going to address the Shinigami Substitute as. ...Aizen supposed however that the other dolls could also have their part of fun.

"Go on," ushered the immortal, nodding in encouragement for the blonde to continue talking.

"Hero-chii is - was - a blank page, making his training easier. He is very reticent and jittery, but rather docile and selfless," stated the blonde - as he leisurely reached out to thread his fingers through the teen's hair. True to Jugo's words, Ichigo first reacted by recoiling, startled out of his skin, before he then remained entirely still, his breathing erratic, uneasy, his head lowered a little in stiffened submission.

"One can tell he is unwilling, but he tries his best to hold it all in and take what he is given. He is also a very quick leaner," informed the blonde male, gently praising the teenager as he carried on petting the latter, before he then withdrew his hand and narrowed his stony green eyes pensively, reckoning "He should be able to perform in...three days, tops."

"Fascinating. Then again, this dear boy has always had the knack of taking others aback," commented the child of chaos with a smirk, before his dark brown eyes shifted their attention towards his other captive, an eyebrow arched with curiosity "What of Zakura?"

"How subjective can I be, Suzuki-sama?" drawled out the Twilight slowly with thinned lips, sleekly displeased as he now glared in Byakuya's direction with sheer venom.

This made the child of chaos chuckle, intensely entertained: "Be subjective later."

"Yes, Suzuki-sama. Zakura is...strongly against what's happening to him, clearly," disclosed Jugo, struggling with his words as to not give his personal opinion on the matter at hand "Defiant and violent, he rejects - or rather, delays as long as he can - the possibility of what could happen to him. He doesn't surrender easily, not without a fight. And even when beaten, he still tries to resist. He seems to digest pain better than pleasure. Point in fact, he downright refuses to give into pleasure, at least not unless fully coerced to, with no other way out."

"Which I have seen. I thought he'd rebel, but I didn't think he still had that much fight left in him," uttered Aizen - having seen an audio-less recording of the Twilights 'fun' with the pair, and thoroughly enjoying every bit of it, of course, notably upon seeing the three try something a bit 'adventurous', sticking to his orders and yet finding a loophole - before a knowing gleam shone in his dark brown eyes "But you did push him to react, didn't you?"

"Yes," answered the blonde male blatantly, before frowning slightly, a tad puzzled "Isn't that what you asked for, Suzuki-sama?"

"Indeed I did. I had to know what it took to put dear Zakura in his worst of moods," voiced the child of chaos, somehow able to be cryptic yet telling at the very same time, before deep curiosity lit his features "So tell me. What exactly did you say to set him off like he did?"

Therefore, Jugo, smug, relayed precisely what he had said to push the Kuchiki over the edge. At first, the immortal's features were near unreadable - only a faint and fleeting trace visible of what the blonde assumed to be...anger? - before Aizen ended up chuckling scathingly, his tone a little hardened: "Oh my. How crude. And whose idea was it to say such a thing?"

"Who do you think, Suzuki-sama?" asked Jugo, a thin eyebrow arched up as he smiled, whilst inwardly willing his fitfully beating heart to calm down - the other's apparent yet brief and baffling ire making him feel rather skittish. ...Both in a bad and good way.

The blonde male's words took the immortal aback, grasping but not at all expecting that Doll would voluntarily give a hand so soon. She tended to give him an exceptionally cold shoulder - in addition to a very hard and harsh time - when she was quite upset and infuriated with him.

However, if she chose such a brazen and blunt attack right from the start, even though she was acting from the shadows... It meant that she wanted to get this over with, as quick as possible.

A good insight.

"I see," drawled out Aizen pensively, promptly keeping this in mind and filing it for later use, before returning to the conversation at hand "And, on your more...subjective opinion?"

"I outright despise him," sneered the blonde flatly, saying so categorically and without regret.

Feigning incredulity to conceal his crude amusement, the child of chaos raised his eyebrows: "And why's that, my dear?"

Jugo was particularly talented at masking what he felt in front of people he did not wish to share anything with, just as he was skilled at feigning another emotion rather than the one that was eating him up.

Of course, he wasn't completely perfect. He had moments where one or two emotions slipped.

However, in front of Suzuki-sama, he made it to hide nothing at all - apart from his deferential dread towards the other. In front of the man that created who he was today, Jugo had nothing to hide.

"Zakura has latent potential, as loathe as I am to admit it. How can we Twilights guarantee the spotlight - which belongs to us alone - if he exists? He's a threat to me," declared the blonde male ruthlessly, radically, whilst the other listened patiently "We struggled up to be where we are now, to be the best - your best. And I, will give it up to no one."

"Do be careful, Jugo," scolded the immortal gently, his tone understanding but still rather firm "You know how I feel about ambition."

"My apologies, Suzuki-sama," said the Twilight, immediately repentant - and quick to catch the other's insinuation - yet Jugo resolutely maintained his opinion all the same "Only, with all due respect, you cannot truly deny that what I'm saying is true."

The relationship that Aizen had with the majority of the dolls was one of pure and plain profit, and it was no different in the Twilights' case. Brainwashing them or restraining them wasn't a requirement, as loyalty, obedience and commitment were all unconditionally imposed - since, unless he decided it, there was no way out for any of them and they were well aware of that. In addition, though most would not admit it, the dolls each sort of owed him a favour... All in all, they wouldn't exist without him and he could effortlessly pull the plug whenever he desired to.

Accordingly, the immortal allowed each and every one them to have, without any concern, an independence and a consciousness, leaving them free to act and express themselves how they wished to - as long as they kept to Débauche's grounds and to the regulations set by the Code.

Which was why Jugo contradicted the immortal as he did now. He wasn't doing so in an act of defiance, but was merely affirming his point of view, which wasn't that off the beam anyways.

Aizen knew where the other stood. And understood perfectly well why Jugo was saying this...

"No, I can't," conceded the child of chaos with a measured nod, considering the other's words whilst elaborating on his own end "But the fact remains that it will never happen. I simply wouldn't allow it. Know and rest entirely reassured that Zakura is here for one reason only - which you are already well aware of. With that done, I'll have no more use for him. Matter of fact, he'll be useless to everyone after this."

The blonde male considered the immortal, his cold green eyes widened faintly, an air of intrigue and fascination in them as tentative realization dawned upon his features: "...You hate him."

"Hate is such a strong word," mused the child of chaos, not denying nor confirming anything after a silent moment had briefly instilled itself "I'd rather leave any hatred I could hold for those who burden me more. Yet I can support that what I harbour for Zakura is similar, true."

"Then I am relieved," uttered the blonde male with a gentle, grateful bow of his head "I have nothing to fear, if Suzuki-sama truly holds no affection for him."

This, however, Aizen promptly confirmed with a cruel, curt smirk: "Not even a drop of it."

Jugo and the other Twilights were not hopelessly ignorant and they had been swift to pick up on the animosity - and a strangely similar level of absurd fascination, nay addiction - Suzuki-sama had for the dark-haired male, Zakura. But none of them had yet been able to fully grasp it. Then again, perhaps it was best not to.

"So, tell me, Jugo," spoke up the immortal, smoothly redirecting the conversation again "With them actually - well, mostly - doing what they're being told, what do you intend to do now?"

"Well," considered the blonde male pragmatically "They've sort of learnt the basics, but both require a little more depth in those. What's left after that is the interaction with patrons. That, and how to perform in the plays."

"Excellent," praised the immortal, pleased with the other's clear-cut insights which caused the latter to glow gently with pride, before a dangerous thought occurred to the dark brown-haired male "Why not parade them tonight?"

Not that startled but still a little taken aback, Jugo raised his eyebrows up high, lips parting: "I was thinking of that, actually. Didn't think you'd approve. It is their first time here after all."

"Being as it may, today's just a Mingle Day. Let the patrons have a little preview. Same for these two," stated Aizen, all while appreciating the fact that the Twilights never did anything without his consent or approval "Personally, I believe it will calm down Zakura a little."

Jugo reverently nodded, bowing low to hide the ugly shimmer of sadistic glee that pervaded his expression: "As you command, Suzuki-sama."

"Do have fun," urged the child of chaos with a low, sinister chuckle as he waved a hand at the Twilight, which was a mannerly signal for the latter to leave.

"Oh, I will," assured the blonde elatedly, a wicked glint in his green eyes as he moved over to the bound pair, curling two gloved fingers per collar and tugging lightly but firmly, indicating for both of them to stand.

They reluctantly but hurriedly did so, silent and stiff, sore and slow, before aversely following the pull that directed them along to...wherever the heck they were going presently.

The troupe had just about reached the exit when the child of chaos then called out smoothly: "One more thing, Jugo, before I forget."

The blonde Twilight blinked at that.

How unlikely. Suzuki-sama never forgot anything. He had a terrifyingly impeccable memory.

Deferentially, Jugo instantly halted in his step and spun over to lock eyes with his creator's, the latter who then closely regarded the dark-haired captive with a brooding, calculating air.

"Know that you have my permission - for you, Twilights - to do anything you see fit when it comes to Zakura," commanded Aizen imposingly, much to Jugo's absolute relish "Bend him, break him, do what you will. In all honesty, better you after all, than Mr Wile."

...Mr Wile?!

It was truly startling what hearing a single name could do to a person...if one knew in depth who or what the name stood for.

It was so sudden and fleeting, but it had still struck Jugo hard, sadistic joy evaporating entirely.

The blonde male's mouth went dry, a clutching, daunting fear icing his already cold interior... Conceal as he may, the blonde Twilight could not hide it as his face turned pallid, blown eyes staring ahead but not seeing, a subtle, but violent shuddering tremble seizing his whole body - both Ichigo and Byakuya felt it, but neither were unable to comprehend what was going on.

It took almost half a dozen minutes for Jugo to calm down. There were three things left in his life which he feared unreservedly, and Suzuki-sama was none of them. ...But Mr Wile was.

Composing himself, long blonde eyelashes fluttered to close widened eyes, before opening them again an indecipherable green gaze flickered over to where the dark-haired male stood.

It wasn't that the blonde was feeling in any way sorry for Zakura. Not only he didn't care at all, he also couldn't afford to think like that.

No. It was more of, seeing the other in a new light. ...A potential victim for Mr Wile, in an 'if-ever' scenario.

Jugo had once met this man - though he wasn't too sure if the term 'man' really applied - and well before that one boding evil encounter, he had basically assumed that Doll's rather loud and pure fixated resentment for the other to be an utter exaggeration.

It really wasn't. And he truly wished he could have it somewhere in him to resent Mr Wile also, if he didn't downright and unconditionally fear every fibre of that man's existence.

What he faced in regards to Suzuki-sama - mostly admiration and awe - was nothing to what Mr Wile was able to lure out from him. And every other doll here at Débauche for that matter.

Saying but the name 'Mr Wile', and they'll all be an uncontrollable hysteric and chaotic mess.

Jugo honestly wouldn't wish anyone to be in the hands of that man, not even his worst enemy. But, better anyone else than himself, right?

Shivering, Jugo didn't dare query his master's words. Resorting to Mr Wile out of all people...

'You don't just want to break him, do you, Suzuki-sama? You want to destroy him,' concluded the blonde male privately, steeling his expression and fully returning to control, realizing that this was indeed beyond his comprehension. He'd have to let Bazz and Kandu in on this. Fast.

"By your command, Suzuki-sama," uttered the Twilight softly, bowing low once more, before hastily making his leave - with the captive pair - under his master's watchful, knowing eyes.

Aizen was all aware that Jugo had just politely bolted...which he truly couldn't blame him for.

Ah. Dear, dear Mr Wile. Not his most favourite person in the world, but a rather formidable one nonetheless. An exceptionally formidable nemesis it was best never to have.

If Doll heard him consider talking to the one she considered a beast, she would not be likely to accept this. At all. She'd rather he had nothing to do with that man. And frankly, he agreed.

But, he meant it. If his plans for Kuchiki Byakuya did not play out as he intended - for Manter once again strongly mentioned that someone or something had the full intention of thwarting his intentions by causing his own demise - additional assistance would definitely be requisite.

Unwilling to think about any of this at the moment, Aizen, sighing, pivoted slightly where he stood, looking over a few documents upon the desk - he had been absent for a while, so there were quite a few things that required his attention - when a very sudden, languid movement, dyed mostly in black, over at the still open door caught his eye.

"Did you forget something, Ju-?" began the immortal as he unhurriedly lifted his gaze, before he then cut himself off, not at all expecting to see who actually stood there at the door "Doll?"

Effectively, leaned up casually and quite comfortably against the doorframe, there she was, the very haunting foundation of the greater part of his thoughts and troubles, Doll - who, as always, maintained her permanent childlike appearance, complete with her long cute pigtails.

He never questioned it, this dire need of hers to be so cosily joint to a juvenile facet. Everyone had their fair share of idiosyncrasies, him included. ...Not that he'd share them all out loud.

As he stared at her in disbelief, having not sensed her presence in the least, she simply smiled sweetly, head tilted endearingly to the side: "The one and only."

Aizen almost laughed in reminisce. Funnily enough, her words were actually pretty on point...

Recalling how their recent encounter had ended however - with acid ache and anger on both sides - the child of chaos sobered.

With no desire to get into another argument with Doll if he could help it, Aizen regarded the magenta-haired girl as he treaded cautiously, his tone courteous while his features were drawn into a straight, composed expression: "What can I do for you, love?"

"What can you do for me? Hmm, let's see," drawled out Doll, as she hummed thoughtfully, entering with dawdling steps and closing the door behind her, before tactfully locking it shut.

She then slowly, silently ambled towards the child of chaos, tiptoeing with deadly grace - like that of a coryphée - before halting abruptly right in front of him, looking up deep into his eyes.

Her intense stare was making Aizen profoundly intrigued, because, rather than it being blank or veiled as usual, there was actually an animated, rippling glow in those large, magenta orbs. Only, given how much she generally hid, from everyone, he couldn't quite recall what this specific expressive patina in her eyes stood for, one he currently couldn't clearly read anyways. A deep magenta gaze which seemed to be swirling blearily with a whirlpool of hectic emotions, some easy to catch onto, others not so much. And he truly wondered what-

"Sosuke," she called out melodiously, softly, earning his full and undivided attention as she leisurely pressed herself against him, her body moulding perfectly into his frame as she gently set her palms to his chest, before tentatively giving a light push.

Despite his puzzlement to this strange and unexplained moment, it was clear to him what she was aiming for, so he indulged her, allowing her push him until he was seated upon the edge of the desk.

Openly conveying his curiosity and confusion via his dark, searing gaze as he watched her, the child of chaos stiffened slightly as she gripped at his strong shoulders and swiftly hoisted herself onto his lap, with him quickly catching her hip with a hand as to steady her when she somewhat lost her balance.

Under his quizzical eyes, her every gesture, her every word seemed to be somewhat stuck in slow-motion, as she looked up at him through half-lidded eyes and parted her lips to whisper: "I'm burning, Sosuke. ...Undress me."

The immortal froze, thunderstruck. That little statement of hers was wrong on so many levels.

"...What?" he blurted out aloud, his tone caught somewhere between incredulity and hysteria, as he gaped down at Doll with wide, shocked brown eyes.

"I didn't peg you for the slow type, Sosuke," she chided with a tut, condescendingly rolling her eyes at the other, before she drawled out lazily, tilting herself off to the side, a bit of her smooth, pale shoulder revealing itself provocatively "Un. Dress. Me."

Oh, yes, something was definitely off here.

She was hardly wearing anything - with her skimpy-hemmed, long-sleeved black nightie over her full-length red stockings, in addition to her dark gloves, but that was a detail - and yet she sought to be undressed? She'd be nearly bare if he dared to do that.

Not that he was actually thinking about doing it. No. Actually, he was. ...Holy bloody hell.

Were this to have come up a long time ago, he would have complied without any hesitation. But given how strained their relationship had become over the years - although he genuinely tried his best to make it right again - this was utterly absurd. Especially, since it was coming from her, she who attempted to harm him, as a personal retribution, at every occasion she got. ...Was this a hoax of hers too? Was this to test his boundaries and, should he give in, she'd lash out at him?

...Well, his boundaries, alas, were currently nowhere near to being kept in check.

Underneath the intense, unrelenting look she was giving him, Aizen eventually gave in with a soft sigh, warily conceding to her inane request - command, more accurately - and hoping that he wouldn't regret it.

Just as he tentatively reached out with his free hand, delicately setting it on her lap and slowly inching over to take a vigilant hold of the hem to her dress - in order pull it over and off her body, from the bottom up - Doll let out a quiet snicker, before clapping a hand to her mouth.

As he promptly locked careful but baffled eyes with hers, checking to see if she hadn't gone mad, she leisurely withdrew her hand, a wide, mischievous smile to her lips as she uttered softly, using a slow sing-song tone of voice: "Be careful, Sosuke, I have no underwear on~."

Flabbergasted, Aizen could have sworn that he had swiftly been hit hard with a burning fever, his heart fluttering out of control.

Oh, the devilish little minx and the mess she made of him.

Speedily stifling a groan, the immortal's hands instantly flew up and off her, in the semblance of surrender, before he threw her an aggravated look, a faint colour to his cheeks ruining the severity of his frown. ...Only she could throw reason and self-control straight out the window. Any flawless management he'd have over his emotions failed entirely, when around this girl.

In response, Doll simply giggled it off giddily, her laughter tinkling melodiously, before she shifted - nearly losing her balance again due to lack of support - and snuggled further into his broad frame, pressing herself close, her burning cheek touching the cool skin of his collarbone.

Far too stunned to prevent her, Aizen, stock still, brow furrowed, hands still up in surrender, blinked down in disbelief, catching her sigh contently and nestle up into his neck, her breath warm like the rest of her body was, too feverish...as if she was actually suffering from a fever.

"You feel so fuckin' good, Sosuke. You're cooling that rotten heat down. ...Like an iceberg."

And possible - or genuine - delirium.

Baffled, the child of chaos was utterly and totally floored. What on earth had gotten into her? And why did this situation remind him so of something Aizen was unable to put his finger on?

Needless to say, things did not get any better.

As he tried to figure out what was going on with her, she suddenly rocked up right against him, accidently - purposely? - brushing their already narrowly correlated intimacy together.

Tittering at the edge of the desk and his composure, Aizen almost lost it.

And, when she carried on instead of stopping, he had to hurriedly bite back down whatever noise had nearly escaped his lips, wrapping his strong arms securely around her - his one and only uncontrolled and unruly weakness - and breathing her in as a distraction, taking in deeply that intoxicating scent particular only to Doll. A discreet but incredibly consuming aroma of faded, burning roses(2).

"D- Doll?" gasped out the immortal breathily, restraint waning fast as she continued to move teasingly - steadily but excruciatingly slow regardless of his hold - with Doll's soft, soothing fragrance being the only thing reigning him in right now "What the hell are you doing?"

"Turning you on," she purred dizzily, grinning triumphantly wide at the success in her torture, before she nibbled affectionately at his jawline "And it's working, So-su-ke~."

Hell. If she was sincere, then this was serious, because he was fairly positive that she had no idea what she was doing. If she was messing with him, she was doing a marvellous job at it.

"Doll," protested Aizen, jaw and eyes clenched tight shut, resisting the need to give in as she raked her teeth down the long of his jugular, before travelling all the way back up by tongue.

He shivered at the pleasurable sensations she was providing him, whereas he was half-caught between wanting to shove her off him and violently capitulating to this lust-induced quandary.

Although blood pounded loudly in his ears, too loudly, a faint voice of caution reached him 'don't do it. You'll hurt her again', while another hissed 'go ahead. She's offering, isn't she?'

Oh, the painful inward struggle. Vices and morals. Since when had he ever cared for the latter anyway?

'You do when it comes to her'.

Knowing that his eyes by now were glowing an ethereal dark blue, with as much control as he could muster despite being hopelessly responsive to her touch, the immortal caught her by the shoulders and gently pushed her away, putting a breathing distance between them, before he peered at her carefully, panting softly as he studied her with crucial detail.

Bright blush to her cheeks and dark flush to her skin, uninhibited actions and speech, unshielded gaze which yet revealed nothing too clear about herself, lethargic and at ease, effusive and-

And then it clicked, Aizen's glowing eyes going wide as he paled a little, breath hitching: "You're...drunk."

It wasn't a question - it was obvious, now - but the sheer shock in his tone and face was tangible.

Doll paused and frowned deep, seemingly displeased both by the reality of her condition and being seen like this by the other, but that brief moment of self-awareness faded fast, and she then shrugged uncaringly, an eyebrow arching up haughtily: "I am. Your point, Sosuke?"

The dark blue glow died immediately, startled eyes now dark brown again.

Good heavens. How could he have not realised her state sooner? If he hadn't held back- No, no, no. He'd rather not think about that.

Falling back into the haze of drunkenness, she began her ministrations anew, leading the child of chaos to stress out urgently, reproachfully: "Doll!"

When she even didn't bother acknowledging him this time, turning slightly aggressive and more determined, he then tentatively made use of another name, one only he had for her, smoothly whispering it within her ear, where no one else could ever hear: "Naruka(3), please."

That three-syllabled name, acting like a magic spell, stopped her completely, her whole body stilling as she peered up at Aizen from under her long, dark eyelashes, waiting for the rest of whatever was hanging at the immortal's lips now that he had her full attention.

"Stop."

Magenta eyes going wide, she recoiled - nearly falling again - as if she had just been slapped, before she lowered her gaze, biting her lip as she whispered bleakly: "Don't you want me?"

"That is not what I'm saying, Naruka. I'll always want you. Always, do you hear?" he declared unswervingly, urgency heavily clouding his typically logical thought process "It's just, right now, at this very moment, you need to stop."

Registering to a certain extent what he had just openly stated, she blushed prettily, biting her lip, before her mood then did a 360 degree turn and she moped bitterly: "I don't want to stop."

"Come on, dear. You have to. You do not know what you're doing. Now, get up."

Only, the more he made to try and pry her off of him, the tighter she'd latched onto him, like a leech, preying off his senses, his mind, his reason.

"Don't wanna," she uttered doggedly, brushing her lips against his face, narrowly missing his mouth, and Aizen felt himself react again, quaint sensations fluttering around inside of him.

Her voice. Her embrace. Her touch. It had been so long. Too long. And he yearned for it more than ever- ...Wasn't he the one supposed to incarnate Lust?

Try to tell you no

But my body keeps on telling you yes

Try to tell you stop

But your lipstick got me so out of breath

(One More Night, by Maroon 5)

Leave it to dear Doll to throw off everything that made sense to him. And so, here he was. Great Child of Lust, a conqueror and a slayer, molested silly and at the mercy of a girl drunken and unaware out of her mind. ...Rather laughable, really.

Notably since his actual dither of resistance and resolve weren't because he had been deprived of sexual contact or the like - he had had Grimmjow and a few others for that specific craving.

No. Aizen hungered for her. And, in addition to this being normally impossible for the two for them, this was also maddening, because, what was happening right now, wasn't real. Not with her so inebriated she had totally forgotten about her grudge against him. Not with the two of them not meant to be in the first place.

One would say that he was crazy, foolish to forgo an opportunity like this, one that he wanted, vigorously casting aside the one he was so painfully and incomprehensibly besotted with.

However, were he any viler than he already was, only then, would he have not made her stop.

Aizen had no values for such an irrelevant triviality as morality. It was beneath him as a Child of Chaos. Always has been, always will be.

But, when chaos came under the form of a being, what other way to deal with it but with a sliver of decency, lest one wished to be rendered to naught?

Ah. He was losing track again, spouting nonsense. Oh, the irrationality she drew out of him...

"And what, do you want, Naruka?" demanded the immortal with an exasperated sigh as he once again tried to keep her away, but his push this time had been a little too forceful, and so she stumbled butt first onto the ground right at his feet.

Horrified, Aizen swiftly dropped down to her side, but froze midway when the very next word she uttered made what could be considered as his heart come to a screeching halt: "You."

Unlike him with his inability to lie, Doll had no qualms at all when it came to fibbing freely. There were only two very rare instances where she would be entirely truthful. When she was drunk - which he had the utter misfortunate of experiencing twice, this time being the second - or when she was crying - though he had only seen her crying but once, and never again since. She wasn't this honest when angered. Or rather, she was far more prone to lying when angry...

Mouth going dry due to the total sincerity within Doll's expressive features and her piercing gaze, Aizen gathered what remained of his nous, closing his eyes and exhaling shakily: "I told you this before, Naruka. I will not - never - touch or take advantage of you when you're dr- when you're like this. If anything, I'd really rather you be willing and lucid, dear."

Magenta eyes went wide, uncertain awe within them: "Oh? Would you, really, pass up such an occasion, Child of Lust?"

Yes. Yes, he would. It was totally worth it. And, when she sobered, she'd most surely agree...

"You're clearly not thinking straight," he murmured with a faint frown, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, before caressing her cheek, with her swift to lean into his touch "Come, love. I'll put you to bed."

"I'm not a child, Sosuke," she grumbled, and yet extended her arms towards him with a pout, causing the immortal to chuckle quietly.

"At times, I truly beg to differ."

Large magenta eyes twinkled with jest: "Then that would make you a fuckin' paedophile."

"That's awfully rude," chided the immortal lightly, smoothly gathering Doll in his arms and holding her close, before easily getting to his feet.

"I'm never polite when it comes to you," she admitted in a murmur, immediately seeking the coolness of his body, nuzzling her still burning warm cheek against the exposed part of him - his shirt being halfway buttoned - as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Sighing, she relaxed in his hold, before she muttered, voice laced with a streak of hostile ire: "And only I fuckin' get to be as such with Sosuke. No one else can fuckin' insult him and dream of getting away with it."

The child of chaos raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her drowsily pronounced words. It almost sounded like she was asserting this, as if holding an unfinished discussion with somebody else.

As sweet sleep began to claim her, Aizen, with no desire to disturb her, had begun walking for the door, with the benevolent intention of taking her to her room, when her grip on the back of his shirt abruptly tightened: "Don't."

Instantly worried, the immortal halted in his step, eyes darting over to her as he uttered gently: "Naruka?"

Shaking a little, she pressed her face further into his chest and urgently let out a near inaudible whisper, sounding like a small, terrified child: "Not my room. I- Can't be alone. Not tonight."

"...Of course," Aizen conceded easily, concern inching a notch higher as he carried on talking, outwardly showing nothing as he teased lightly "I'll let you stay here if you wish. Should you promise to behave, that is."

That last part was definitely meant as a joke.

But the tone of docility in her response was totally unexpected, seeming ready to do anything as to not be left alone.

"I promise, Sosuke. I promise, so please..."

Aizen's eyes widened with apprehensive realization. Her seeking him made sense now. She had wanted- no, needed company, but had not dared to ask directly. ...Something had happened, and she didn't want to be alone. Or she'd be left to remember.

Mind spinning in alarm, the immortal tried to recall what was capable of putting Doll in such a condition, the scarce things that managed to break past her detachment, but shook her badly.

'Let's see,' pondered Aizen carefully, as he directed himself over to a comfy couch to the side, upon which he gently lied her down, before tenderly running his hand soothingly across her hair - whilst Doll curled up adorably on herself, gradually relaxing again under his touch.

As the child of chaos mentally ticked off what could have possibly bothered Doll, he suddenly remembered that she had a different method for dealing with each difficulty that troubled her.

So then, in that case, to name a few, there was aloofness, resentful anger, a speck of violence and, indeed, drunkenness, which, if he wasn't wrong, was specifically for-

"Did anyone die today?" ventured the immortal tentatively, vigilant not to distress her further.

With her eyes closed, she remained still, silent.

Just when he thought that he had either gotten it wrong or that she had probably fallen asleep, Doll opened her eyes and looked up at him, her tired gaze drowning brightly with grim guilt: "What gave it away?"

"How drunk you are. How much did you even drink, Naruka?"

"Can't recall," she mumbled, frowning crossly before closing her eyes again, her mouth tense.

Aizen knew that expression of hers in particular all too well. Agitated and stressed out of her mind, she was strenuously trying keep herself together...and failing.

"Do you wish to talk about it?" he asked softly, not once stopping his gentle, calming caresses.

Again, Doll didn't respond right away. But when she did, fulminating loathing and rage came to harden her every word: "The fuckin' beast sent baka-Majima and Fukaku. Again."

Stiffening, Aizen felt himself grow cold.

...Mr Wile. Oh, this was going to be bad. ...Very bad, if Doll's state was any indication.

"He should know better than to seek me when I'm not available to receive him - or his men," he stated, frowning with faint disquiet and frustration - both which were caused by Mr Wile in person - before the immortal gently fretted over his distraught Doll "What happened, love?"

"They're no more. Fukaku and baka-Majima, I mean."

"That's it?" uttered Aizen, surprised and relieved, but quite confused because it didn't explain at all Doll's slow downward spiral "It's alright, dear. You know that Mr Wile has no fondness for those who work for him. He can always recruit to fill in the gaps. No need to feel so-"

"I also had the 'things' the beast sent killed by one of the guards," cut the magenta-haired girl curtly, quickly, not needing to open her eyes to guess that Aizen had gone pale.

And indeed he had. The immortal almost stopped breathing.

Scratch whatever he had said before. It was so much worse than 'bad'.

Halfway between horrified and scandalized, the immortal slowly choked out with shock: "You did what?!"

In no way was he faulting her - well, perhaps a little - but he couldn't help the slight spike of fright seizing him. He could effortlessly deal with the Shinigami, the Hollows and anyone else he had an enemy, all lunging at him right now, rather than face an angry Mr Wile.

Notably not with the price to pay that would surely be set forth by that man.

"They. Are. Kids," she seethed coolly, large, fervent eyes snapping open whilst her jaw was set firmly, stubbornly, before her resolute demeanour swiftly shrivelled up as guilt and gloom ate at her again "Well, were anyways."

The immortal stared at her, speechless, disbelieving. As decent her done deed had been, Doll knew of Mr Wile as much as he did, and she knew that he was not a person to provoke.

Couldn't she for once in her life not act so haphazardly?

...No. She wouldn't be herself if she did so.

At least now he understood the reason - the culprit - behind dear Doll's inebriety.

Poor precious thing, holding a heart she resented having. ...Just like him.

Feeling a burst of a headache coming along, Aizen shook his head and sighed, tone of voice quiet as he genuinely wondered how to skid away from this fresh mess unscathed: "Now that, my dear, might be a problem."

And by 'might', the child of chaos meant 'most definitely'.

Not only lying was not a possibility, but it was largely known that no guard here in Débauche took any initiative on their own, blindly following the orders of only three individuals without asking: the immortal himself, Manter and Doll.

And given that neither of the former two would actually do such a rash thing... Well, needless to say, Mr Wile was not a fool.

Aizen resisted the urge to groan. This was one ascending conflict he did not look forward to.

Vividly aware of the immortal's patent predicament and rather rueful for being the cause of it, Doll curled up even further on herself, eyes downcast, her tone gentle and genuinely apologetic: "I didn't mean to. I- I just...got so mad. They were already dead. There was no life in them. No future for them, here or out there. And there was no sense in setting them free. Or letting them go back to the beast for it to do even worse to them. They were no longer free anyways, captives to being lifeless. I couldn't- I just-"

'I saw myself in them.'

Magenta eyes wide and haunted, adrift and obscuring, her voice was cracking up, breaking...

"It's alright, Naruka, calm down," he uttered soothingly, promptly worried all over again as he gathered her quivering form gently in his strong arms once more, holding her tight against him "You're here. Here, safe with me...as much as you dislike it - (she let out a curt laugh at that). Besides, were my priorities any different, I would've most likely done the same as you did. Don't worry, my love. I'll try and figure something."

With an agonizing and stressful emphasis on 'try'.

And here Aizen was just recalling earlier how unpleasant it was to have Mr Wile as an enemy.

A powerful monster, one which was best not to offend, Mr Wile took immense pride in what he did, in what he designed...in what he damaged. And anyone destroying his 'beautiful' work - his 'masterpieces', in which he put so much time and pleasure - other than himself or doing so without consulting him first, was close to committing a massive offence - one very close to blasphemous, according to Mr Wile.

Now, Aizen had to find a quick and efficient way to settle any hostilities before they began. As though the immortal didn't have enough concerns as it was...

On top of that, and it was probably the most worrying part in all this, Doll had a terrible knack - or extreme bad luck - of easily getting on that man's bad side. She had already 'disagreed' and 'argued' with Mr Wile on a past issue, and it had almost ended in utter and total chaos.

True, the man was horrendously appalling, worse than most, and Doll's rampant resentment for the other was comprehensible, but she was blatantly putting herself in danger. All over again...

"Sosuke?" she gingerly uttered all of a sudden, her tremulously soft spoken voice a ghosting breath to his ear, whispers of something very painful to hear within her next words.

"Yes, my dear?" he asked tentatively, worriedly, but not at all ready for what she was going to say, despite recognizing the bleeding agony in her tone.

"I- I want to die. Let me die," pleaded Doll, her fractured voice charged with deep emotion, making Aizen fall in petrified silence "I want to forget. Forget it all. But I- I can't. I just can't forgive myself. For everything. All I've ever done, Sosuke. I just can't. I've done too much. So, please. I'm b- begging you. Don't hold me back anymore. And please, please, let me go."

And in that very instant, nothing else, within the entire universe, mattered more than the grief-stricken, crumbling girl in front of him. Whatever had transpired moments ago in front of her eyes, had such a damaging impact on her that she was amalgamating it somehow to her past...

Another thing Doll would only dare speak of when inebriated. She refuted it completely when she was lucid and teetotal...only to wake up screaming in the middle of the night.

Entirely hidden from the world under tight protective layers of clothes, her soft skin, her lithe body was flawless. Perfect. Beautiful. But she, could only see horror, blood and death in them.

She saw herself as cursed, as vile, as sick, as someone who didn't deserve to live. Lies carved within her flesh and etched into her mind from the moment she could walk and talk. And kill.

So much blood, too much blood on her hands that she didn't care to live, and wanted to die. Badly. Desperately. So much, it was painful. Painful to her. And painful to Aizen himself.

Hence stood their diverging point, the chasm in their relationship, the variance, the betrayal... He didn't let her die - couldn't - prevented it by keeping her safe within a body that could heal and live on endlessly. And she never forgave him for that.

Yet, how cruel of her to beg him - he who treasured her, but dared not admit it - to let her die.

In the end, Aizen never gave her a reply to her distressed pleas, letting her hold onto him like a lifeline instead, as he gently whispered honeyed words and sweet nothings into her ear, while her entire body shook with tremors of trauma, not one tear falling from her eyes despite her anguished howls of pain and self-loathing.

For anyone who would hear, they'd believe that an animal's cub was lost, and crying for help.

How can I take the pain away?

How can I save...?

A fallen angel, in the dark

Never thought you'd fall so far

Fallen angel, close your eyes

I won't let you fall tonight

Fallen angel, just let go

You don't have to be alone

Fallen angel, close your eyes

I won't let you fall tonight, fallen angel

(Fallen Angel, by Three Days Grace)

The Next Morning.

Dark brown eyes gently fluttered open, before they swiftly and immediately squinted as Aizen hissed, sunlight assaulting him, disorienting him. ...It was day already? But how-? When-? He didn't recall falling asleep. Nor could he truly believe that he'd really slept through the night.

The immortal was about to shift and stand, when he took in the position he was currently in. The child of chaos was laid out comfortably upon the sofa within his office and, with a warm blanket draped over the two of them, cradled in his arms was Doll, all curled up against him - with her hands fisting his shirt in a clutched hold, her long lashes fluttering faintly every now and then as she, maybe, dreamt, her figure lightly rising and falling with a steady calm breath.

Amazingly, she was in a deep, serene slumber, something he wasn't used to seeing - given all the nightmares that'd plagued her - but found himself instantaneously fond of. Aizen's breath was caught in his throat, unable to look away. She seemed so...at peace.

Normally, Doll would be far too agitated in her sleep to lie still throughout the entire night, or she'd simply awake well before him. And he was a rather early-riser himself. A quick glance at the clock up upon the wall confirmed that. It was six o'clock sharp.

The immortal briefly considered whether he should get up and go about his business, but he then chose against it, wanting to indulge in this rare moment a bit more. Besides, him leaving might wake her. And then he'd have to face a hangover-ed Doll. ...He'll just stay put for now.

Rolling his eyes at himself with a quiet chuckle, the child of chaos tightened his hold faintly as he cast a gentle gaze over her face, absorbing her features devoid of all ferocities and hassles.

His gaze then spied the necklace - which he hadn't noticed last night - he had brought back for her, peeping out from the wide collar of her nightie, and a soft smile found its way to his lips.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one subject to denial when it came to their unruly relationship.

Despite the periodic bouts of anger she'd deliberately draw from him and the hurt she'd cause him - which he could never blame her for - his constant infatuation for her was startling, along with all the lengths he'd instinctively go through for her, without thought or trouble.

He'd fight, and even kill for her. Anything she wanted, he would be more than willing to give.

But Doll wanted nothing of all that. She wanted only two small, little things, the very things he couldn't bring himself to bestow upon her. Love or Death. One or the other. A choice. Only, the child of chaos could sincerely - and selfishly - give her neither.

She had no idea what she was asking of him. Or perhaps she did, which was why she asked...

Nevertheless, Doll would only have to settle for the sole thing he could offer her without any toll or toil - safety - no matter how much it would undeniably hurt the two of them in the end.

Out of all those he could have come to yearn so passionately for, Aizen had to pick a stoned, suicidal and seething soul. A girl in a constant state of crisis.

He smiled softly. If he had to it over again, he wouldn't alter a thing. ...Other than hurting her.

Aizen wasn't one for regret. The Witch of Lust had raised him to act out his desires without apology, simply because he could. Because it was his right. Because he was a Child of Chaos.

Only, this dear little precious nightmare of his had this uncanny ability to bring it out of him, in spades. And it was...aggravating as hell.

For Doll however- For Naruka, sweet, pretty, unique little Naruka, he truly wished he had had the strength to put her desires before his own. But he hadn't been able to...And still couldn't.

He had barely closed his eyes again, when a voice called out to him urgently: "Aizen-sama."

Dark brown eyes flew open to meet mismatched blue eyes, one of them considerably darker than the other, before the immortal spoke up in a hushed voice: "You seem worried, Manter."

Before him stood the Witch of Lust - present out of thin air - truthfully enough appearing to be somewhat overwrought as she murmured just as quietly: "When am I not, Aizen-sama?"

"So?" inquired Aizen with a soft sigh, knowing that his surrogate mother was concerned ever since she had taken a peek into his own future. And had inadvertently seen his alleged demise, with nothing else to clarify further on that hindrance.

Her actual worries however didn't involve that part: "I have received word from your father."

"And?"

"Still no sign of Kurosaki Isshin."

Ah. Manter's uneasiness made sense now.

"What? And where the hell is he?" wondered the immortal, mystified, whilst mindful to keep his voice from waking Doll, before his brow then furrowed "How odd that he'd disappear like this. Especially with his son here. With me, of all people. I know that he has always left his son's dilemmas for the latter to deal with on his own, but given how dire Ichigo's situation is, I would've expected him to - despite really not looking forward to it - interfere. ...I can't even begin to make sense of this."

"There is more," stated the witch slowly after a moment of watching the child of chaos frown, utterly confounded and unable to fathom a reason "Your father has appointed Hinamori-sama to rule over the Hueco Mundo, given that Las Noches was totally unsupervised."

"I don't mind," brushed off Aizen distractedly, not really listening for he was still focused on his analysis of Isshin's absence "That's in fact a very good idea. It'll keep Hinamori busy-"

Pausing instantly as he finally caught what Manter had said, the immortal blinked in disbelief: "What do you mean 'totally unsupervised'?"

"Since bringing your captives here, Schiffer-sama has yet to return to the Hueco Mundo."

Oh, how utterly lovely. And bad incidents abruptly decided to pile up over each other in heaps.

Bewildered, brown eyes went wide: "Ulquiorra? ...Missing? Hasn't anyone looked into this?"

"Luisebarne-sama is on the matter as we speak."

Ah, yes. Veneno, the new Segundo Espada, younger brother of the late Barragen Luisenbarne.

"That's very strange."

Indeed it was. Ulquiorra never failed anything Aizen has ever asked of him. And to disappear...

"It is," agreed the witch daintily, before she thought back to the discreet and curious exchange she had witnessed between the Cuatro and former Sexta beforehand "But I believe that your once-Espada might know about this."

"Grimmjow? I'll ask him," asserted Aizen, considering this newer angle, but he promptly broke it off when he saw where the witch's mismatched eyes were staring, with wide, wary vigilance.

There was no lost love between Manter and Doll. The Witch of Lust was afraid of Naruka, of what she was, what she could do, and saw the magenta-haired girl time and again as a threat. A threat to the immortal himself, no matter what he said or how he attempted to convince her otherwise, that in fact he was a danger to her. The fact that the witch also knew of his intricate feelings for his little Doll, did very little to help ease those concerns.

And then there was Naruka, who hated Manter. To be fair, there were very little people that Naruka liked at all. Nonetheless, she genuinely loathed the Witch of Lust as much as Mr Wile. Actually, anyone remotely linked or likely to remind Doll of her past, was instinctively flung into her hate zone. Without fail or thought.

"Back together again, I see," observed Manter, smiling small and attempting to sound delighted for him, but the apprehension in her mismatched eyes was far too obvious.

"Not quite," denied Aizen with a shake of his head, frowning as concern came creeping back "She...had a bad night."

He then related had ensued last night...whilst subtly omitting what wouldn't matter to Manter.

"Luckily, Mr Wile has no ill intentions for you," muttered the Witch of Lust, quite aghast by what she had just been told "I sincerely fear what her recklessness may someday cause you."

'You have no idea,' thought the child of chaos, with light amusement he knew he shouldn't be feeling given the dire upcoming advents, before he spoke up to the witch, a faraway mien to his features "It wouldn't be Doll otherwise, Manter. You know that's how she is."

After a moment, she then nodded reluctantly, prior to asking tentatively: "Have you told her?"

A brown eyebrow arched up: "About what exactly? You know I don't have secrets with her."

"You are well aware of what, Aizen-sama."

"I told her that you've foreseen my death," whispered the other with a sigh, still not buying it "She doesn't believe it, Manter. Neither do I still."

"I was not talking about that," stated the mismatch-eyed witch exasperatedly, with an indistinct artful air that Aizen knew too well. Manter looked at him like that when hinting to his sex life.

"Doll knows that I mix and blend with both genders. ...That wasn't it either? Then what-?"

The faint smile to his lips abruptly faded, wishing she hadn't brought up that precise subject, now knowing exactly what the brown-haired witch was asking.

"Not yet," whispered the immortal tautly, before narrowing his eyes at the look of reprimand currently shining within hers "Don't give me that look. I haven't had the time."

"Are you not merely delaying it?" deadpanned the dark brown-haired witch, an eyebrow high.

"I will tell her, Manter. Just...Now isn't a good time."

"More like you have no idea as to how to present the issue to her," she chided with deferential admonishment, before adding knowingly "Without hurting her."

With all the respect and esteem he owed the witch, Aizen did not appreciate it one bit when Manter would try and rebuke him when it came to Naruka.

Hence, dark brown eyes narrowed indignantly, warningly: "Well, since you've visibly figured it out, why not leave, and let me come up with a solution, hm?"

Sighing softly, the witch spoke to him with gentle yet inflexible chastising, trying to make him see that he had more important matters to deal with than mere 'matters of the heart': "Aizen-sama, you cannot risk your life for hers, no matter how deeply you are involved with her. You are putting everything, even yourself on the line, and yet, you are utterly incapable of telling Doll what she should hear. All this could have been avoided if you simply did just that. It is true that you will be at risk from then on out, but at least you will be setting yourself - and her - free. You will no longer have to deal with the all the burdens you yourself have placed upon your shoulders in her regard. Just have her forgive you, both walk away and never look back."

His features only darkened further, not appreciating being seen through in such a sharp manner. And also not at all liking what he had just heard.

Yes, his true intentions were not quite what they seemed to be, at least not from anyone else's perspective but his own.

Yes, nearly everything he had done until now was not all part of his plan alone, and he was merely carrying out the will of many in their stead, until they could all call it quits.

Yes, the Kuchiki were an embellished excuse, but remained a crucial and rather relevant one, one that he wasn't anywhere short of letting slip through his fingers.

Yes, he was at risk now and will be at risk later, if the wrong ones found out or figured out what he was - and had been - hiding so carefully, right under their noses, for so long.

Yes, it would be so, so much easier if he just catered to the witch's advice and let this all go...

Would he do it? No.

Would he stop? Never.

Would he let anyone else know? Not as long he breathed.

"This truth you want me to tell her isn't the one she'll wish to hear, XxxX," drawled out the immortal slowly, dangerously, using the witch's real name sharply which was like an unkind slap to Manter's face, her mismatched eyes wide with horror "And nor do I for that matter."

Enraged, Aizen turned his head away from Manter, briskly ending the discussion, leaving the Witch of Lust to depart in a rattled rush, rueful for riling the other over such a touchy subject.

Racing out as hurriedly as she could to evade the immortal's escalating anger, she was quick to close the door behind her as she berated herself, admonished herself.

What a fool, she was.

She should have known better after all. She was all too well aware that the immortal had this brazenly unwise judgement when it came to Doll. And Manter knew that Aizen would always put Doll before anything and anyone else. Hence, where his plans where were heading. A man was undeniably lethal when guided by whatever feelings truly motivated and ruled over him.

Manter shivered as she quickly sauntered down the hall she had aimlessly taken, the sound of her name still scorching her skin.

For a Witch, the use of their real name was a threat to them, but a power to those they served. Whether to point out to the Witch that she was out of line or going overboard, it could be used for other various reasons when spoken. And it could also be used for the Witch's death sentence, for only a Child of Chaos could kill a Witch without dying in turn, when using the right words...

Composing herself, the mismatched-eyed witch wisely chose to never utter such facts again. A danger Doll might be, but Manter couldn't quite believe that the magenta-haired would be the one behind that unnerving demise Aizen had waiting him ahead. ...At least, she hoped not.

Halting in her strides, the Witch of Lust frowned cautiously, thoughtful. She was well aware that Aizen had once prevented Doll from dying. And will most likely do so again, given how beguiled he was with her. Then...would the latter's death be the immortal's own downfall?

'So, for Aizen-sama's sake, I am to find a way to keep Doll alive,' decided Manter resolutely, with a nod for good measure, before proceeding to walk again, staunch confidence in her step 'No matter the sin, no matter the sacrifice, our gods, the Children of Chaos, must never die.'

Three nights later.

Every day, I get a little closer

And everything I'm made of, starts to melt to away

I see the signs, but I can't quite make the words out

All I want is to be near you

(The Part that Hurts the Most, by Thousand Foot Krutch)

It was late, almost near dawn, the Open Hours had finally come to a most welcome end, and yet Grimmjow tossed and turned repetitively around in the sheets, unable to sleep a wink. Although drained beyond measure with his new nocturnal schedule and experiences that he never knew to be real, his concern was at its highest peak - higher than usual anyways.

The former Arrancar, huffing irately, shifted one more time, finally settling to lie on his back before staring blankly at the ceiling, mind reeling.

It had been more than three nights now and still not a glimpse of either Ichigo or the other yet. The blue-haired feline had no idea where they were nor what was happening to them, despite him asking - near begging - to know if he could at least see them, even if it wasn't for long. He had been denied that, of course, making him even further on edge with every turndown given.

To make matters worse, it was like everyone had somehow agreed on keeping him in the dark - the other dolls still committed on brushing him off at every occasion and the men in suits not bothering to acknowledge him unless it was to convey orders - except for a sole, stray rumour from one of the patrons he had been lucky enough to overhear.

On the second night, the patron in question had excitedly gossiped with another about being a witness to 'a parade of a black-haired beauty and a yummy young hottie'. Her words, not his.

Nonetheless, she was probably, hopefully, talking about the Kuchiki and the kid. The rest of her words however made no sense to him. What on earth was a parade?

Not knowing what it had meant, the feline went to find Doll - or Gamine, or whatever the hell her name was - to ask her about it, as per their agreement. It was not easy task though - finding her that is - between the dolls being disinclined to speak to him, and Débauche being a labyrinth.

However, no sooner had he finished helping her out afterwards - she seemed to be quite fond of having him act as a bodyguard, this time getting him to watch over one doll in particular as she performed a dance routine, and prevent anyone from trying to get their paws on her as she was just a dancer and nothing else - he had instantly regretted seeking her in the first place, hating and unable to bear what he had been told.

Apparently, a 'Parade' was term used for when new dolls were dragged around the mansion, leash, bound and gagged, for each and every patron to catch a glimpse, to know what was being offered. A simple truth, but a very distressing one...as it would undeniably draw all sorts of unwanted attention.

As such, to say he was simply anxious was an understatement. He was worried beyond belief.

If this was part of the punishment Aizen had in store, then Grimmjow was definitely feeling it...

To make things worse, the feline's attempts to see the other two had the immortal interested. Again.

And the former Arrancar, in turn, again, had to find a way to negate Aizen's assumptions, not because they were true, but because of what the child of chaos might do with this knowledge.

Previously, the former Espada - upon being confronted by the child of chaos with this matter the first time, back in Las Noches - had managed to 'convince' his former master that what he felt in regards for the young Shinigami Substitute were limited to 'caring out of mere loyalty' - in addition to upholding a few promises made.

For this time also, the blue-haired male made use of this argument yet again, even adding and admitting to the intrigue that had stemmed from an initial form of obsession towards the teen, something the immortal himself had formerly pointed out...which was quite absurdly accurate.

But, just like before, even the blue-haired himself wasn't that won over by his own reasoning.

Grimmjow cared far too much for Ichigo, and that was a firm truth he couldn't rid himself of, nor find the exact words to explain.

Leaving it all at that as he did not wish to make things more complicated, the former Arrancar forced his mind to wander, taking a darker path, in hopes of overlooking those odd sensations he had no clarification for, whenever his thoughts decided to spontaneously focus upon Ichigo.

In retrospect however, out of everything he could have turned his attentionto instead, thinking about Débauche and these last nights was probably his worst decision yet.

Oddly enough, some of the many patrons that came over the days were surprisingly tolerable, either seeking swift release, or comfort and company. And, under different circumstances, the feline would have maybe found their encounters 'nice', their presence not that straining.

The others however, alas, not so rare in number, were not so agreeable. Truth in fact, they were seriously deranged and vile, with the most sinful of desires and the sickest of demands.

Despite having met but a few of the like during these nights, Grimmjow had never thought that there'd ever be anyone just as bad as Aizen when it came to the domain of vilified sex.

In the space of nearly four nights - whether on the scene or behind closed doors - the former Arrancar had been forced to endure multiple forms of sadism, triolism (with dolls and patrons alike), fetishes, and, worst of all - at least for the blue-haired - acting out upon demand certain fantasies - roleplay, or so they called it - for the patrons to watch and get off on what they saw.

Whatever the theme performed for the audience, the more believable it was, the better. And in all honesty, Grimmjow had been through too much already to feel any adulteration from this. But it was and stayed revolting all the same.

In addition to that, he had also unwillingly witnessed other dolls going through situations - affectionately baptized 'games' by the patrons - that were just as horrific.

One example, was having to see a couple of them being force-fed opulent quantities of cum through tubes shoved down their throats. And, after that part done, then being coerced to keep it down, until they threw it back up. The first one to give in to their gag reflex or disgust, lost the 'game', and was then to be mercilessly gangbanged by the other 'players' as a 'penalty'...

...Depraved. ...Perverse. ...Twisted.

He just couldn't figure out exactly how their foul minds came up with these despicable ideas...

Humans, huh? They sickened him.

Hollows, as such, could be seen as saints then. ...With some very significant exceptions, aka Nnoitra. And the Luisebarne brothers. ...And quite a few others really. It was all grey, perhaps, in the end.

'However, however,' the blue-haired feline's thoughts ventured even further along on their own 'Not all humans are that bad.'

And he'd know. Ichigo Kurosaki and his entourage were a tad of them. ...And there Grimmjow was, thinking about the teenager yet again. How obsessive of him. ...Damn, Aizen was right.

But back to his current train of thought, Ichigo and Co. were all somewhat decent in their own way, caring and self-sacrificing to a fault.

However the most surprising out of them all, at least in Grimmjow's opinion, to fit into this particular category, had been the young male's father, acting more foolishly human than the ex-shinigami he actually was. The former Arrancar had only actually spoken to Isshin Kurosaki once, when they were alone and out of hearing range, and the discussion had been...rather deep.

"So, you're friends with Ichigo now?"

Idly lost in his thoughts, Grimmjow was sitting alone late at night on the couch that was in the Kurosaki's lounge, when Ichigo's father decided to talk to him head-to-head for the first time.

As Kurosaki Isshin casually sat down next to the former Arrancar, two cups of warm coffee in each hand - of one which he offered to the blue-haired male - Grimmjow stiffened nervously, unsure how to proceed with the ex-shinigami. Especially given how the conversation started off, treading upon territory the feline saw as thinly fragile. For, though the Kurosaki father seemed to be - or just was - an idiot most of the time, he sure was protective of his young.

"I wouldn't say that kind of sh-" began Grimmjow, before frowning, diplomatically accepting the mug whilst trying to keep his loose tongue in check "That's what the kid says, anyways."

"Is he right in saying so?"

The blue-haired male's brow furrowed further: "I don't know. Honestly, I don't think he is."

"Why not?"

"Why?" echoed the former Arrancar in disbelief, double-checking to see if the ex-shinigami was actually serious, and the latter was "Hell, I was his enemy. And, if that's not reason enough, when under Aizen's control, I nearly killed him three times. Didn't even hold back."

Rather than seem distressed by this admission laced with a thin yet heavy trace of guilt, Ichigo's dad watched the other closely, carefully taking in the other's every expression, every reaction: "But not because you wanted to, right?"

"Kurosaki shouldn't trust me," muttered the feline inflexibly, forgetting his self-made promise to remain polite "And that's fuckin' final."

"Yet he really does trust you," pointed out Isshin easily, whilst nodding smugly to himself, apparently seeing something in Grimmjow but the latter had no clue what, before the kid's old man shrugged "And if he does, that's good enough for me."

"So, just like that, you're going to let your son be friends with a fuckin' Hollow?" uttered the feline with pure incredulity, before he laughed out loud, the sound of it harsh and empty, blue eyes narrowed jeeringly "Are the Kurosaki always so naïve and trusting? Or is it just you and your son that ain't fuckin' right in the head?"

"Meh, I'm often told that mine isn't screwed on properly," noted Isshin abstractedly, making the other hide an amused grin, totally unsure whether to be amazed or appalled, while the ex-shinigami continued on nonchalantly "Besides, Ichigo has all sorts of friends that wouldn't be 'of the norm', according to most. You do know that Ishida Uryuu is a Quincy, yeah?"

Sobering, the blue-haired male nodded. It had occurred to him as quite strange for a Quincy and a Shinigami to be working, talking and walking together, but he had never asked about it.

"It's real primitive to think that people can't change," pointed out Ichigo's father sagely, before he then locked a solemn stare with Grimmjow's "But in all seriousness, I mean it when I say that you're the best choice to be by Ichigo's side. At least, from here on out."

This brought the feline to full attention, catching a hint of something resigned in the other's eyes, and it confused him, in addition to the man's words in themselves: "What do you mean?"

"You know Aizen Sosuke well enough, Jeagerjaques," indicated the ex-shinigami openly, but with careful consideration to his tone and words "You should know where things are going."

"Yeah. He'll be out and free," whispered the blue-haired male, aggravated to admit this but unable to deny the inevitable "It's only a matter of time now."

"Exactly. Aizen Sosuke's constantly one step ahead. We will most likely not be ready. There will surely be many losses - on all sides - and, if his kind hasn't changed their ways, possible enslavement," uttered Isshin gravely, his expression dimming dark as he aversely envisaged the possibility of what would happen.

"Hiskind?" realized Grimmjow abruptly, startled with his widened eyes staring at the man next to him "How do you-? Do you know what Aizen really is?"

At that, Ichigo's father grimaced, before directing an apologetic half-smile towards the feline, and then carried on talking, as if the former Arrancar had never asked him anything, causing the latter to frown faintly, but then chose to respect the other's silence. Everyone had secrets.

"According to Urahara though, I can't afford to get involved or be caught, to which, in regards to our plan, I can only reluctantly agree. ...Although I really do wish there was alternative."

"You have a plan?" inquired the feline slowly, surprise and scepticism lacing his voice whilst still looking at the ex-shinigami with vigilant intrigue "To do...what exactly? Fight Aizen?"

"Counterattack him. When the time is right. When he'll let his guard down."

"Don't lie yourselves," whispered the former Espada, eyes lowered wearily "None of you can defeat Aizen. And the only one amongst you who could, no longer can."

Timeworn brown eyes shone with mystery: "Oh, but you're wrong. On both points actually."

"So, what are you saying exactly? That Aizen can be defeated? And that the kid will be getting his powers back?" countered Grimmjow cynically, before he snorted sceptically, shaking his head "Not to burst your fuckin' bubble, but I don't see either happening. No offence."

Isshin steadily raised an eyebrow, slight mirth in his eyes: "Not very optimistic, are you?"

"Bite me," muttered the former Arrancar lightly, making the other grin a little, before the feline then asked tentatively "So, what are you asking of me exactly?"

With sagging shoulders that suddenly appeared to be holding the weight of an entire world and, at his next words, they seemed to droop even lower "Watch over my son. Please, I beg you."

Of all the things Grimmjow had been expecting to be requested, this wasn't one of them. And the blue-haired male didn't even bother to hide his aghast horror. ...Why the hell did everyone believe that Ichigo was safer with him of all people? How did they come to that conclusion?

"You're his father. You should be taking him with you - if you're disappearing. Aizen Sosuke doesn't care that Kurosaki's a kid. He. Will. Hurt. Him," asserted the feline tellingly, unable to repress a shudder, before he stated bitterly "And there's very little I can do to change that."

Isshin's features were now strained, if not slightly pained: "I know that. But Ichigo and I- We- Other than our father-son relationship not really being ideal, it's difficult for him to accept help from me. Ichigo doesn't like to trouble others with what plagues or worries him. Even less so those he cares about. You can tell him that you'll always be there for him, and he'd still never openly settle for your help. To Ichigo, it's his duty to protect, to save, not the other way round..."

Grimmjow blinked. Well, the two elder Kurosaki members might not get along, but the father certainly knew his son.

It was true. Ichigo would rather help than be helped, save than be saved. It was in his nature.

But letting Aizen get a hold on Ichigo wasn't the best idea, even if the father hoped Grimmjow would somehow serve as some sort of protection. ...The former Espada wasn't convinced any longer that the ex-shinigami knew what the immortal was truly capable of. And he wasn't sure if he should tell Isshin. Probably not.

Closing his eyes, the blue-haired male let out a low, quiet sigh, before eventually nodding stiffly: "I already made that promise twice. And I'll repeat what I told those I promised it to. I'll do what I can, but I sincerely can't do more than that."

Those words were not lies, yet he meant every word. Grimmjow could only do what he could.

The former Arrancar watched as the kid's old man flashed a small but grateful smile, one the feline did not - and, much later, would still not - feel worthy of: "Thank you, Jeagerjaques."

A sudden, curt knock at the door had the feline growling low in his throat, eyes flashing lethally.

Grimmjow genuinely didn't want anyone from this place talking to him. Not now, not ever.

Not because he was acting all arrogant or the like, but because he had come to realization that nobody here in Débauche could be trusted.

The definite feeling hanging in the air amidst them all reminded him of the unvoiced essential the Espada - and essentially those from his herd - had decreed back then in the Hueco Mundo days, before and within Aizen's reign over them. Everyone for themselves.

Not only did they view anyone else as a threat to their existence, most of the dolls appeared to be entirely submissive to their maker's every word. And that, never was a great helper, so...

The former Arrancar then backtracked as he unwittingly went and considered the Substitute Shinigami once again - only, this time, he didn't realize it, so he couldn't berate himself for it.

Maybe the teenwould have a different, if not, better effect on the other dolls? Ichigo tended to charm people without even trying or wanting to, naively so.

This small truth had the feline smiling softly - and sincerely - for the first time in days. And heck, he'll at least admit this one bit to himself. Grimmjow missed the kid. He really, truly did.

Whoever was at the door knocked again, with more insistence this time, irritating the feline. Concluding that they wouldn't leave until he manifested, Grimmjow swiftly threw himself off the bed, sheets falling in a rumpled mess to the floor, before he marched straight for the door.

Prying it open brusquely and ready to irately bark off at whoever, the blue-haired male halted dead in his tracks, his widening eyes quick to fall upon the odd picture painted before him.

Held firmly by the scruff of the collars at their necks by that blonde Twilight, were two other males, one with shoulder length, black glossy hair, and the other with short unruly spiked hair.

Despite their heads being lowered, which hid part of their faces from the feline, Grimmjow instantly identified the first to be the shinigami noble, but sincerely had to pause at the second male. He automatically had the feeling that it was the Kurosaki kid, but there was something totally off. Where there was once vivid familiar orange hair was now hair of a warm reddish brown dye...

"Sure took your time," snorted the blonde male abruptly, fraudulent annoyance to his features, before he smirked with sinister amusement, tone contemptuous "And me who had brought you your dear roommates."

And before the worried feline could say anything or react, Jugo tactlessly shoved the two right in - all while fluidly unfastening the collars so they stayed in his hands - with the young male falling to his knees, hissing in pain, whereas the noble dropped straight to the ground, totally inert and silent, like a deadweight.

Grimmjow didn't waste a second to hurriedly dive down to their side, no longer bothering to conceal his worry, already reaching out to comfort and check on them. But he sharply made himself halt inches away from coming in contact with them, hands stilling midway, freezing.

Given what he was witnessing, the former Arrancar didn't think it wise to touch them. Not without knowing what the two had been through these past days. And by the looks of it, they hadn't been doused with mercy or kindness.

Although outwardly seeming to be in one piece upon first glance, the two looked entirely and utterly defeated, crushed, with their heads still hung low, their upper features hooded by their bangs, figures stiff, shoulders drooped and enclosed around themselves, a fragile-made shell.

Not at all a good sign.

Relief had flooded within him in an immediate rush as he finally got to see the pair for the first time in days, something he had been desperate to see happen. However, that sweet feeling was now far gone, replaced with a growing level of stifling anxiety.

The feline's trepidation was especially high when he tentatively neared the teen - like drawing close to a wounded deer - as he carefully checked the other over whilst seeking the latter's gaze, his quiet voice coming out forcibly strong to mask his increasing panic: "You ok, kid?"

After jumping slightly at being addressed, as if not expecting to hear Grimmjow, the young male remained still and silent, but then their eyes met, brusquely, and the former Arrancar had to do what he could to hold back whatever emotion had threatened to flicker across his features.

Right now, as widened blue eyes locked with familiar - and yet not so familiar - brown ones, the feline wasn't sure what to feel anyway.

"I'm trying to be," whispered Ichigo in turn after a moment with a small smile, appearing to be somewhat relieved to see the blue-haired male again. But the latter didn't notice the smile.

The former Espada was too focused, too fixated, too fearful over what he was seeing in the Shinigami Substitute's eyes.

Though no longer shining brightly, the flame in those young, warm brown eyes of his was firmly, miraculously still there. But it was fairly hardened, a tad darkened.

And Grimmjow found himself caught somewhere between reassured and terribly concerned, wondering what the other could have possibly gone through for his eyes to look like that.

For the flame to still be alive meant that the fight and resolve specific to the teen were not gone, but the faint swirl of darkness currently present, now that, Grimmjow did not like...It had to go. Fast.

"And him?" asked the blue-haired feline worriedly, finding his voice again as he nodded in the noble's direction, the latter still in a motionless heap on the floor ever since he had been pushed in by the blonde.

A poignant pain flashed across the teenager's features, but just before he could say anything, Jugo's conceited voice, spiteful and mocking, cut him to it: "Not to worry. Candy boy's just breaking down. Hard."

As Ichigo shuddered before scowling at the blonde and Grimmjow growled low in his throat, the Kuchiki noble's voice rose, his incensed tone of lethal ice as he shifted up, with difficulty: "I am not. I do not have the luxury for a breakdown."

Both the teen and the feline stared at the dark-haired male with a rushed mixture of emotions, whilst the shinigami glared at the Twilight from underneath a curtain of darkness, dimming his already deadly, black look filled with an incredible, bottomless loathing.

Only, the blonde male didn't appear to be intimidated in the least, smirking down snidely at the noble, cruel, sarcastic scorn to his words: "Smart way of going about it, I'd say. You'll have all the time in the world for a breakdown afterwards, candy boy. I mean, you didn't even get fucked properly(4). Yet."

While the Shinigami Substitute tensed nervously, the former Espada felt worried all over again. What on earth did the Twilight mean by that? What the hell had they done to them?

Livid grey eyes narrowed as the 6th Division's captain seethed quietly, refusing to respond the cutthroat tongue that purposefully provoked, which led Jugo to chuckle condescendingly as he made to leave, throwing out one last taunt before he shut the door: "Tomorrow will be your first night in front of the patrons, Zakura, Hero-chi. Do try to be in shape."

With the Twilight gone, an eerily, uneasy and tense silence instilled itself between them three.

None of them moved from where they were, still upon the floor, not too far from the entrance.

Grimmjow had no clue what they had been through - well, he did have, unfortunately, a few rather obvious and obscure ideas - and honestly didn't wish to make things worse for them. And so far, even though brown and grey eyes were averted, it was palpable that the feline's state of dress was slightly bothering them - the former Espada was only wearing a pair of light trousers.

Licking his lips nervously, the blue-haired male hence pragmatically chose to keep his distance, giving them some space as he carefully stood up and moved to sit on the edge of the large bed.

No one dared to utter a single word at first, until the quiet became to unbearable and stifling to bear anymore, notably in the Kuchiki noble's case, as he wished - badly needed - to be alone.

"Is- Is there...a bath in here?" asked Byakuya in a whisper, evidently addressing Grimmjow.

"That door," answered the feline, pointing over at a single door in the back, before witnessing the dark-haired promptly get up and make a beeline for it, curtly slamming the door behind him.

"Pretty boy's definitely not well," remarked the former Arrancar, mostly speaking to himself.

The young male however had heard him. And he wholeheartedly agreed. Byakuya was not ok. "No. No, he's not," whispered the teenager, locking weary eyes with blue ones.

With what happened, the opposite would have been terrifyingly unnatural. But still, seeing the great Gotei 13 captain, as well as Kuchiki Clan's leader, in such a state was unspeakably horrid. Especially, as the dark-haired male's mistreatment had been far more oppressive and cruel than his own. The bias was totally unfair and uncalled for.

And Ichigo hated it. Really hated it. Hated more that he was incapable of changing the noble's situation. ...Or couldn't he?

Inside, after locking himself in with shaky hands, the dark-haired noble had taken a moment to breathe, before numbly, tiredly directing himself over to the sink, inadvertently glancing up at his reflection in the mirror in front of him. And then froze, when he saw the shadow of a ghost staring right back at him.

The mirror image before him was not Kuchiki Byakuya. He...didn't know who it was.

Ashen, sallow near lucent skin, dimmed and dark-rimmed drained eyes, the faded - and fading - Kuchiki noble was downright sickened by what he saw. And couldn't look away from.

A haggard face on the verge of embracing defeat with open arms. ...He was breaking down, self-made promises to not lose himself and unravel were slowly, but steadily, crumbling to dust.

Without another thought, Byakuya, breath and calm leaving him, dashed over to the lavatory and, bending over, hurled out his bleeding soul, heaving and desperate to purge himself from the inside out. Rickety legs unable to keep him upright after a moment, he gradually sank to his knees, his sides eventually aching from trying to further retch up what his stomach no longer contained.

He felt filthy. No. More than that. Was there any worse than feeling this dirty, disgraceful and despicable? ...Rotten?

Demoralized, the noble wanted to shake his head at himself. He was so distraught and shaken that he was running out of vocabulary words. However, 'rotten' felt perfect right now.

Actually, no. He felt...vivisected. There we go, that's the one. It was as though someone - some ones - had cut him open via scalpel, digging into his flesh, uninvited, with the pain only coming alive as the blade dug in deeper and deeper, reaching for his core and ruining it black with filth, by forcing him to endure revolting sensations he did not want, and could do very well without.

Wiping at his mouth with back of a trembling hand, the dark-haired male unsteadily got to his feet, flushing the toilet without paying any attention to what he was doing.

Byakuya was now on autopilot, barely aware, and before he could actually think things through, he was already standing in the running shower, having stripped himself with such ease, that made him sick all over again - but he was quick to reel it in, the aching having yet to subside.

As tepid water touched his cold skin but didn't warm him, Byakuya numbly reached down to pick up the first bar of soap in front of him, but before he got to touch it, he caught sight of a plastic label stapled upon the compartment which contained the cleanser. It spelled 'Pantera'.

Recoiling as if he had been burned, widened grey eyes took in only now that there were three small compartments, stacked on top of each other and each with a label holding the tags that had been so lovingly bestowed upon them. There was 'Pantera', 'Shujinkou' and Zakura'.

Ah. There he was. Lower than low.

Numb all over again whilst bending over to pick up the soap and shampoo designated for him as a doll, the Kuchiki noble then froze for the second time since he had entered the bath.

The fragrance - for both of what was labelled to him - was lavender.

The scent that Aizen had decided would be Byakuya's ever since the latter and the other two had first set a foot here in Débauche. The noble had once enjoyed the sweet scent. Not anymore.

...Could the noble truly no longer make any choices that were his own? Were there no limits to how much control was swiftly slipping through his fingers?

If this hell were to carry on, he'd no longer be a person. No longer a name. No longer...anyone.

As he washed himself off, Byakuya was silent, trying not to drop down again and crack under the weight of the heavy humiliation and denigration he had endured ever since the Other War.

And crueller still, within these past four nights.

As the Twilights had finally let him and the other step away from where they had been kept, the 6th Division's captain had decided to forget, to block it all out, to find a way to move on...

But. Byakuya could still hear their slanders ringing in hot, resenting breaths against his ears, whispering words he couldn't get out of his head.

He could still feel their sickly sweet touch sadistically pervading him every inch of him, skin and soul, violating him in ways he'd never imagined possible.

And yet, holding back just enough...so the patrons could later in time do even worse.

If this was how he felt with but four nights, lost in a haze of sore pleasure and pain, what would a longer length of time here ensure to him? Make him entirely dead and hollow inside? When he was already this uncomfortably numb?

The Kuchiki noble knew where he stood, and was well aware what had led him to be here. But, as loathe as he was to admit it, he needed more than that knowledge. It wasn't enough, not when he had surrendered and was sacrificing so much. He needed solace, something. Desperately.

When still hidden in plain sight as a mentor to the Seireitei, Aizen Sosuke had once said that it was better to die on the battlefield than be taken a captive by an enemy. And Byakuya hadn't thought much about those words then. Only now, they made perfect sense, if this, this hell, this nightmare, this torment, this suffering, this torture, this shame were all to be a captive's life...

Such thoughts accidently reminded him of a conversation he had had with the child of chaos, his accursed captor - and now abhorred owner - who taken him aside on the second night here.

The child of chaos was chuckling, relishing in the absolute horror painted across the Kuchiki's features. He had just shown the noble a rather distressing footage and he knew, without a doubt that the 6th Division's captain would never ever dare set a foot outside of Débauche's grounds. And that, as long as the silver bracelet remained enclosed around the Kuchiki noble's wrist...

"That aside, my dear Byakuya. Are the Twilights treating you well? Do tell."

Mentioning his current tormentors seemed to snap the dark-haired male out of his stupor: "Shouldn't you be asking instead if they're torturing me well, Aizen-sama?"

Aizen smirked at this, knowing that the retort was a meaningless attempt to aggravate him. Only, he'd have to admit that the Kuchiki's response was rather adequate. Byakuya knew that the immortal was already aware of what the Twilights were doing. And understandably so, since Aizen was the one who ordered for the 'training' to take place.

"That would be more accurate indeed. Your wellbeing is the least of everyone's concern here, the Twilights' especially," stated the child of chaos loftily, his next words scornfully cruel and meant to lash out at the other's diminishing dignity "I hear that they are rather thrilled to play with you. They love how you writhe in horrified discomfort and distressed humiliation. A true sight to behold, I'm sure."

"Am I simply here for you to twist the knife deeper?" whispered the dark-haired shinigami emptily, drained eyes closing in indignant mortification, while the other's smirk just widened.

"Always," drawled out Aizen darkly, beyond amused "True, however. You are here before me for another reason, my dear."

With growing nervousness, the 6th Division's captain kept his eyes tight shut, his voice unable to mask his wearing dread by using his previous show of indifference: "...Which is?"

Only, the Kuchiki was not looking forward to know. The child of chaos had once told him that the latter would have to, at some point, satisfy Aizen's own depraved desires.

...Was that going to happen now? If it was, the 6th Division's captain was not ready. Not at all.

With closed eyes, the noble completely missed the immortal's sadistic expression: "I have but a simple question for you, my dear Byakuya. Would you like your suffering to come to an end?"

Here, Byakuya's eyes snapped open again, instantaneously narrowed with seething scepticism at the smirking immortal: "In exchange for what? To suffer by your hand as an alternative? I'm afraid I'm not that kind of fool. Aizen-sama."

Rather than be affronted, Aizen simply chuckled mysteriously, dark brown eyes glittering with a sinister shine: "I have told you already, dear Byakuya, you'll derive far more pleasure than pain if you simply. Give in. To me. Give all of yourself to me. Entirely. And you'll no longer have to go through all of what you endure anymore. You'll be...free."

Expression unreadable Byakuya remained silent, as he cast a glance at the monster that had once hid in plain sight within the Seireitei, the noble's grey eyes evaluating, warily reflective.

It had stated more times than he could count, but apparently, Aizen could not lie. Nevertheless, the immortal's astute ability to play around with words and twist them to his advantage was something to fear and never take for granted.

'Give in and be free.'

Though rather unsure as to what the other was truly asking for, he had considered it before. What a sweet relief it would be to just stop struggling. All the Kuchiki had to do was succumb to the immortal and whatever the latter's designs were, for the rest of the noble's existence.

To give in, and never once look back. Ever again.

But, to fully stop struggling meant discarding his free will. It was the only thing that kept him unbroken, kept him sane... The only thing that still belonged to him, that Byakuya had left, for Aizen had truly taken everything else. And he had not given all what he held dear for whatever the immortal had in mind for him now. The Kuchiki briefly remembered Grimmjow telling him something like that, where the child of chaos would make it so that Byakuya would lose it all, would lose everything. Therefore, the shinigami captain needed to at least, for his own good, cling onto his free will, his willpower. And the noble could only fiercely agree.

Determination flaring, he decided that he would never ever lose his own will. Even if he had surrendered and submitted his body, he would not give up himself, nor his mind, nor his soul.

The Kuchiki noble would protect his soul to the very end... No matter how demanding or how painful and demeaning it was going to be.

Closing his eyes once more as he took a deep breath, Byakuya then locked austere eyes with the immortal, tone strong and firm, adamant on not betraying the wreck of emotions he was: "I refuse."

For a moment, the Kuchiki was expecting the other to be taken aback, which would have been an instant of short but significant triumph for the noble. Only, for some terrifying reason, it appeared that Aizen had been expecting that very answer.

"Oh?" uttered the child of chaos blithely, slickly feigning surprise, when that ominous glitter sinisterly shone even brighter than before "Could it be that you actually enjoy the disgrace and dishonour of the humiliation you're being put through? My, my. Are you a masochist, Zakura?"

"Please do not distort my words, Aizen-sama," said the captive noble through clenched teeth, coercing himself to remain calm, both from bursting out and crashing down "I have merely stated my refusal to abide by your...proposition. And nothing but."

For a moment, Aizen didn't say a thing, dark brown eyes on Byakuya, judging him, dissecting him, and the noble, standing still and stiff, felt as though he was an open book to the immortal yet again, from whom he could hide absolutely nothing. The other could alas read him too well.

The child of chaos eventually freed the other from the grasp of his penetrating, piercing gaze as he lowered them to whatever documents rested before him upon the desk he sat behind, his voice light, eerily betraying nothing: "Well, if that's what you wish for, how could I deny it?"

Unsettling, oppressive silence rose, and the Kuchiki noble wanted to get out of there. Quickly.

"If I may take my leave, Aizen-sama..."

"By all means, my dear."

By now, Byakuya had sunk down in the tub, head rested on the tiles - a few damp, dark locks plastered upon them - as he stared up absently at the ceiling, the water still running and long forgotten.

As admirable as his resolve had been then when facing to Aizen that one time, it had took but two more nights for the shinigami captain to have lost sight of that particular moment. What would more nights in this forsaken place do to him? How long would it take for him to lose it completely? ...How much time did he have left to be himself?

Blinking as he glanced down and finally noticed that the once limpid water was tinged with red, he came to see that he had been unconsciously scratching at his skin with his own nails, as if to scrub it off, scrap it clean of the vilification and start anew, all fresh with a new skin wrapper.

Nauseated, Byakuya shuddered at how horrific and depressed his thoughts were progressively becoming. Hadn't he already lost himself?

And yet. And yet. This deliciously desperate pain was his own infliction. Despite the cage of a body he wore which healed with each wound, this bleeding pain was his doing. No one else's. It was something that he could start and stop. A sliver of control, a brief moment of deliverance, in a swirling haze of constraints. It was...liberating. If only but a little.

Because, in all honesty, his original coping method - the blanking - was not helping him. Not here. Not now.

And probably never again.

As he eyed the blood seeping from his self-inflicted injuries, this was how, in the end, that the Kuchiki decided that he would rather gladly deal with his pain than their pleasure. At least pain allowed him, aided him, to remember where he essentially stemmed from, to keep in mind that he had control over his own life, to recall the wrongness in this unfortunate set of circumstances within this shameless lust-imbued and defiling prison, where pleasure was utterly unforgivable.

Byakuya refused to enjoy anything that was happening or being done to him. He categorically refused it. He needed not pleasure if it only served to cloud his reason and senses.

...Pleasure. The sheer horror of enduring it when against one's will, in far too deep to pull away. It only enforced the depravity of it.

Hands languidly tracked along his bare skin, slick with a sheen of sweat, touching down over undisclosed areas and within hidden corners that drew intense, pleasurable shivers from him.

'Don't touch me.'

A precise silicone copy of a male's anatomy - a dildo, he learned it was called - smoothly thrust in and out of him with a slow, steady pace, stimulating him from within, and working in tandem with a firm friction of an expert touch to his aroused length, his body arching back in response.

'Make it stop.'

He cried out softly, brought to his peak, blown away and soaring high to graze a heavenly bliss he never knew of. And, in awareness of the aftermath, wished he never had been made to feel.

'Kill me now.'

Glazed eyes wide and breath erratic, the dark-haired male's empty stomach lurched violently, so he hurriedly stifled the ascending nausea, gritting his teeth as he lowered his head, dripping damp hair smoothly following the curt movement. ...He really didn't need to recall any of that. But then again, since he was on said subject...

How could he have even felt pleasure with what was being done to him, against his will? How could he have attained a climax, time and time again?

Good God. ...Was he actually becoming a-? NO. No. No, he wasn't one. ...He wouldn't be.

Eyes clenched closed, Byakuya bit his lip, hard, drawing blood, drawing more blood as he dug his nails in his arm again, drawing himself away, far away from the sense of shame and self-loathing.

He was stronger than this, so he would NOT break. He would not break. ...He would not break.

The noble shuddered for the umpteenth time. Apart from his own resolute and reprimanding voice ringing in his head, he had absolutely no warranty to what he was convincing himself of.

To think of all the nights I've had

I shut tightly, I shut down

Won't be that much longer now

In the quiet, in the dark

All my ideals fall apart

(Think I'm Sick, by Icon for Hire)

000000000000000000000000000000000000

Back within the room, Ichigo, having inadvertently heard Byakuya's little expelling session, was forcing himself to remain where he was, rather than rush off to go join the Kuchiki noble.

Though terribly worried, the young male was neither ignorant nor meddlesome. He knew that Byakuya required a moment of privacy. And trespassing upon it would not be welcomed, even if it was with benevolent intentions, such as comfort and/or support - which, in all honesty, were very much needed by the three of them right now, regardless of them saying otherwise...

So, the teenager would simply have to check on the other later, that's all. Whenever the noble was ready. If he'd ever be ready at all for the prospect of opening up. Not that the Shinigami Substitute would fault him if he didn't. Ichigo was no better when it came to that either. Figures.

He and Grimmjow glanced at each other when they heard the water running, but stayed silent.

Needing to distract himself also from worrying about the shinigami captain, the feline focused on the teen and watched in silence as the other slowly began looking around at his surroundings.

The ample room in itself wasn't too eccentric or extravagant, but it wasn't bare or plain either. Furnished just right, on one side was a sizable couch of beige leather with white and maroon cushions, a couple of bookshelves and cabinets, a TV set and some other stuff, all laid out upon woven multi-coloured tapestries and flocculent carpets. On the other side, under a decorated lamp, was a large, lush bed - apparently intended for more than two people - with bedside tables and three individual dressers on a side. It was cosy enough - with an overall air which Ichigo could only describe, and would later mention, to likely, and vaguely, be inspired by an Oriental dye and design.

Concern making a little room for confusion, Ichigo's brow furrowed. Why did the room look too good to be true? ...Was it fake?

Recalling the immortal's ability, the teenager, standing and carefully walking around, couldn't help but tentatively poke and prod around him...testing to see that he wasn't stuck in an illusion.

In a way, the former Arrancar could understand the young male's disbelief, having reacted in a similar manner when he was first brought to this room.

Given that Aizen generally acted superior and averse towards Mankind, the room was bizarrely conventional, too suspiciously in association with humanity - as if it'd all vanish if anyone dared to blink too long, before then turning into an empty, white room they were so well accustomed to, like those of Las Noches. For here too, the walls, though holding but a few paintings, had no windows. Just another prison. A truth no amount of décor could change...

"Pantera?"

Grimmjow almost didn't respond. It was so strange to hear the teenager call him by his 'tag'.

The blue-haired inwardly cringed, deciding that he did not like that name on Ichigo's lips.

Mind wandering distractedly, the blue-haired male suddenly found himself recalling their time back in Las Noches, when the former Espada had to stop the teenager every time from saying his name aloud, as they unwillingly but slowly f-

HOLD IT, hold it, hold it. What the freaking hell was he thinking?!

Grimmjow was so grateful that the other wasn't facing him just yet, because he was pretty damn sure that his face was drenched green with horror. ...What the bloody hell was wrong with him?

Why was he remembering this specifically?! At this time?! In this place?! Holy hell, he should NOT be thinking about this(5)! AT ALL!

"Hello? ...Grimmjow?"

'Fuck, fuck, FUCK. Curse and fuckin' damnyou Aizen!' swore the feline interiorly, features now burning bright red with indignation and embarrassment as he tried to regain his composure "Hm?"

Turning towards the other to give him his attention, the blue-haired male saw the teen staring at him as though Grimmjow looked like he had gone crazy. ...He probably most certainly had.

Bewildered brown eyes blinked, concern now within them: "...Are you alright, Grimmjow?"

'Nope. I'm crazy, remember?' thought the former Espada, berating himself, before he addressed the other, tone now regulated: "I'm fine. I really am, kid. Just a little fuckin' bushed, that's all."

Swift to divert the conversation away from himself, both out of discomfort and at the occasion to check on the other, the feline then raised an eyebrow as he eyed the teenager, voice careful: "But really, kid, that should be my fuckin' line to you, don't you think?"

Eerily enough, Ichigo's usually expressive features went downright deadpan, showing nothing: "I'm not the one who was on their own."

"I'm used to it."

The young male didn't say anything at first, before he then nodded soberly: "I guess you are."

A thin blue eyebrow rose slowly: "Not what I meant, kid. I'm not the one to be worried about."

"Me neither, Grimmjow," drawled out Ichigo offhandedly, shrugging calmly, way too calmly for the former Arrancar's comfort, immediately suspicious.

"Kurosaki."

The look of pure scepticism upon the other's fretful features blatantly told Ichigo that the feline wasn't buying what he was so firmly telling. He was faintly annoyed that Grimmjow was seeing through the tough shell he was hiding behind, but he wasn't going to admit to what the other wanted him to say. ...Because if he admitted it to the other, than he'd be admitting it to himself.

The young male was used to resolving most of his problems - his anger, his anguish, his alarm - with finality, either via a beat down or by simply shying away from that which endorsed the issue in itself. Not being able to, was a severe and real handicap for him...

The Shinigami Substitute honestly didn't mind the other's company or his concern - which was quite touching and heartily welcome - but he really couldn't allow himself to be mollycoddled.

Grimmjow had lost everything, just to stand by his side. And Byakuya was steadily drowning. ...No pun intended.

Inwardly nodding to himself, Ichigo decided not be a burden for the other two - they had enough on their minds. Worrying them further would be unfair. He'd be strong. The teen just had to be.

"I'm fine," insisted Ichigo, using a smile that was too painfully ersatz to witness "I really am."

Closing his eyes, Grimmjow, brow furrowed as if suffering from a headache, sighed heavily. The former Arrancar wasn't asking directly if the teen was alright, because he knew that Ichigo was far from it. One, because the feline was, alas, well aware of the immortal's ways. Two, having been a close witness to the teenager feeling low before, the blue-haired male now could relatively tell when the other wasn't well. Which was currently the case.

Regardless of what Isshin Kurosaki had told him about his son, the Shinigami Substitute wasn't really the type of individual to openly tell others how he felt in certain situations. Although kind-hearted to a fault and more than ready to listen, Ichigo will be willing to offer comfort but not ask for comfort, despite not downright refusing it when it magnanimously came along.

But right now, alarmingly enough, the teenager wasn't letting him. And this, even though Ichigo himself had requested Grimmjow to be there for him through these...excruciating endeavours.

Ichigo was sixteen, damn it. Mature in so many ways, yeah. But. Not. For. This.

Hence, brushing off an issue - this issue - that mattered, was not going to work with the feline.

"And I'm not a fuckin' idiot, kid. You can't be fine."

"Can't I?" countered the young male defiantly, scowling hard, his frame rigid.

Irritated, Grimmjow snapped back just as firmly: "No, you can't, Kurosaki. No fuckin' way."

Features harshening further, the young male, needing an outlet, needing to lash out, was about to throw another comeback, but the former Espada carried on talking: "I wasn't. ...I'm still not."

The hard tautness in Ichigo's expression eased up a bit, letting surprise escape from it: "No?"

A wry smile then touched the other's lips: "What the fuck do you think? That I'm unbreakable?"

Ichigo was about say that was exactly what he believed - at least, when compared to himself - when he all of a sudden found familiarity in their conversation, bringing back a certain memory.

"How did you not break?" had once asked the orange-haired teen with concern, as he tried to imagine how suffering of such an existence would take toll on his friends, his family...himself...

"Who says I'm not broken?" had responded the other softly, shaking his head when Ichigo had stared at him wide-eyed "I've learnt how to pretend...not fuckin' necessarily how to cope." (6)

The teenager bit his lip sheepishly, blushing faintly, embarrassed. He had nearly forgotten about that discussion, and everything that it had entailed it.

Clearly, Grimmjow hadn't. He was currently keeping his end of the deal. Watching over Ichigo.

"Believe me, I'm not," confessed the feline quietly, feeling suddenly very disconnected, drained as he idly ran his hand through his hair and left his fingers tangled in there "No one is."

A beat of silence fell, the levied quiet by disrupted only by running water and steady breathing.

"No one," said Ichigo, echoing the other's words, before his tone tensed "...Not even Aizen?"

A faint trace of despair poisoned the teenager's voice, and Grimmjow just thoughtlessly wanted to reach out and squander all of Ichigo's worries to dust and naught. ...If only it were that easy.

Too many were expecting him to be the kid's shield, his pillar, his protector...but he didn't have that kind of power...not with the immortal tightly holding their strings from behind the scenes.

"I fuckin' hope not," muttered the former Espada, in an attempt to sound partial but not dismal.

"It sure looks like he's invincible though," whispered the young male, shivering, before he tilted his head, gaze narrowing with a reflective air to them "Doesn't he even have any weaknesses?"

The former Espada honestly, really didn't like that look now in the Shinigami Substitute's eye. Frighteningly, Grimmjow had a hunch as to why this query was suddenly on the teen's mind.

Ichigo was, somehow, faulting himself for what was happening to him, to them...to everyone. And he was hoping to redeem himself, if he could defeat the child of chaos. Just one more time.

The feline frowned, wary, worried. Regardless of the fact that the other shouldn't be filling his head with altruistic hero-martyr gobbledygook, the young male should not be blaming himself. If anything, that was something the shinigami should be feeling, for not foreseeing where Aizen stood before he could go and make a stand that led to them all to this mess.

Nevertheless, the kid really needed to stop shouldering everything. He was not Gaia, damn it.

"I truly don't know. Nor do I fuckin' care, Kurosaki. I'm worried about you," declared the blue-haired male loud and clear, expression set and sincere, making Ichigo's eyes widen, lips parted in shock "Don't. Fuckin'. Lie. To Me. When it's all over your face. You ain't fuckin' alright. Not you, not pretty boy. Cut the bullshit."

There. Now the feline had given a clear-cut fact on the matter at hand. ...Would that help any?

Too taken aback and affected, the young male couldn't utter a word at first. However, when he managed to gather his bearings, defiance had left him, and, for a moment, so did his shields.

Wrapping his arms defensively around himself, the teenager glanced away, features distraught, his brittle voice a near inaudible murmur: "I don't want to talk about it, Grimmjow. ...Please."

Freezing, the feline's aghast heart wrenched itself out of its spot and violently plummeted down.

...Ouch. The former Arrancar had been apprehensive to hear the Shinigami Substitute say that. It meant that it was actually worse than he had imagined it. And he didn't dare imagine more.

A burning, seething fire surged within Grimmjow, now sporting a level of loathing for Aizen - and all those associated to him in any way - he had never experienced before... Screw them all.

"Now, that's a fuckin' answer," uttered the feline with an aggrieved air, dragging a hand over his face, before he took in a deep breath, locking eyes with the other from through his fingers "You'll remember that I'm here, right? Whenever, I'll listen, kid. I promised to."

Genuinely soothed and relieved, the teen hadn't realized that it had mattered to him so much to hear such words, his features softening as his struggle and strain faded from them just a little. But it was enough to briefly let go of that consuming belligerent guilt eating at him from within.

"I won't forget," whispered Ichigo warmly, grateful and meaning every word "Thank you."

"Sure," murmured the former Espada, before he ruefully looked away, a sudden sense of deeper depression washing over him 'I'm fuckin' sorry that that's all I can do for you right now, kid.'

Bothered by the obvious pressure the other was under over him, Ichigo quietly contemplated the feline, before slowly directing himself over to sit upon the bed - not too far from Grimmjow - wishing to comfort the blue-haired male somehow but not entirely sure how to proceed.

Baring in mind all their interactions until now and recalling that the feline wasn't at all adverse to touch like the noble was, the Shinigami Substitute very tentatively, gingerly reached out, his hand travelling slow across the sheets, until his knuckles brushed lightly against the other's leg.

When he saw that the former Arrancar didn't react negatively to the contact - simply locking curious eyes with the teenager's - Ichigo took it upon himself to pat gently at the other's knee, with a small reassuring smile. ...At least, he hoped that's what it looked like. It felt a tad wobbly.

Grimmjow blinked. ...Shouldn't this moment be in reverse? Wasn't he supposed to be calming the teen? Not that he didn't appreciate the gesture though, which he conveyed to the other with a dip of his head, making the teen's smile widen a bit.

The two of them then lapsed into a faintly more comfortable silence, mind wandering, escaping, fleeing, the teenager's hand staying on the feline's lap, the latter not once making it vamoose.

However, neither had the courage to ask one another what they had to go through, despite truly wishing to know if they were all still somewhat salvageable from being permanently damaged.

Hence, the feline judiciously, considerately skirted around that discerned yet rather delicate topic, opting for a safer route to converse upon. Small talk.

"So," began the feline lightly, faint curiosity to his features as he gestured to the teenager's dye with his chin "What's with the colour?"

The former Arrancar immediately knew that that had been a wrong thing to ask, when Ichigo's shoulders sagged, his expression turning sour.

The blue-haired male grimaced. It didn't take a genius to figure who had done this to the teen.

"I hate it," confided the young male in a strained whisper, breathing all of a sudden strenuous whilst he clutched his eyes closed "It's not me. None of this is me. There are too many changes, Grimmjow, I- I can't keep up. ...I'm losing track."

Silent, the former Espada's heart clenched painfully at the sight of the other on the very verge of hyperventilating, no longer able to keep up that brave façade and claim that he was alright. Ichigo was far from alright. All three of them were.

Brown eyes snapped open wide as warmth suddenly touched his skin, and, glancing down, he saw that the other's strong, calloused hand was now gently holding his own - the one set upon Grimmjow's lap - rubbing his thumb smoothly over the teenager's knuckles.

The young male regarded the blue-haired male questioningly but the latter didn't say anything, merely keeping his gaze fixated on their joint hands, not once stopping his soothing gesture.

At first, the Shinigami Substitute was too stunned for words, yet, after a moment, he felt himself relax in the other's reassuring touch, not once thinking of retrieving his hand from the contact.

"I'll be honest, Kurosaki," started off the feline carefully once the other seemed lulled enough, his tone solemn and blunt, but entirely sincere "I'm not sure that we can get out of here. At least, not any time soon. So, for now, enduring and learning - surviving - this fuckin' shithole is a priority. A must. For all three of us. Before I tell you anything else, do you agree to that?"

Ichigo almost smiled. The blue-haired male was all about survival, wasn't he? Well, obviously. Grimmjow was still breathing after all this time, despite all the dangers flung along his path.

The young male supposed it was in the former Arrancar's instincts or something. But rather than ask about it, the teen wordlessly nodded instead, readily waiting for the other to continue...

000000000000000000000000000000000000

Aizen stood quietly by the window, staring out at the grounds of his acreage, mind preoccupied.

It had been approximately three days since the incident that had occurred down in the basement - or what was affectionately called by the dolls as Doll's Graveyard, which was quite accurately fitting - and they were still no repercussions from Mr Wile.

The immortal had thought long and hard about the convoluted issue at hand and, quite honestly, didn't know how to solve this unpleasant issue, without some sort of costly compromise, one which would be more than costly enough to appease the other's most likely indignant ire.

Knowing Mr Wile, the latter would want to see some punishment take place. But Aizen simply couldn't let the other make Doll pay, which was undoubtedly what the man would want anyway.

Sighing heavily and closing his eyes, the concerned child of chaos smiled wistfully to himself.

Ah. Sweet, sweet Naruka, and the trouble she'd always get herself in. And drag him along into.

Not too long after his little 'argument' with Manter, Aizen had carefully pulled away from the still sleeping Doll, before heading over to the desk to occupy himself. He needed to calm down.

Barely minutes after his departure however, the magenta-haired girl stirred, rubbing her eyes cutely before glancing around, blinking confusedly, when magenta eyes then locked with brown.

Doll stared and stared, and then, flashes of memories, of what happened, came flooding back. Blushing crimson red, colouring her features between fluster and fury, she wished she could just crawl in a hole and die...whilst also wanting to commit bloody murder, and bury the body. Either way, digging at the earth was going to be undoubtedly involved.

She cringed. Her mind relentlessly hurtled at her random rambles during her oh-so lovely hangover. Murder was still appealing, though. And the very first person she had considered murdering would have been Sosuke, if not for what actually occurred last night.

She'd been all over and upon him. Him, a Child of Lust. Yet, he didn't take advantage of her.

Her flush darkened, this time tinged with warmth and appreciation, anger still there but lulled. How dare he make her hate him even less? If Sosuke stayed longer, only to carry on behaving this way...there'll be no part of him left to hate. ...He. Had. To. Leave. Effective immediately.

The world was still and quiet as neither looked away from each other or blinked, her magenta eyes accusing and annoyed at him, but his dark brown eyes anxious and affectionate over her.

...Affection?

Cautiously peeking out a little more from the covers now shielding her dimming mortification, she regarded the other blankly, soft tone light with incredulity: "You stayed...with me."

"You asked me to," he answered gently, soothingly, yet remained seated where he was, politely giving her the space she evidently needed at the moment.

Doll's brow furrowed. Had she? ...She didn't remember that. Then again, she had been so out of it, she could have said anything. ...Another thing she didn't need to consider at the moment.

"Would you have left if I hadn't asked?"

His dark brown eyes lightened, turning softer as he uttered: "No. I would have stayed anyway."

"Because I was drunk?" she drawled out, the accusing air returning as her eyes narrowed, but this time it was not so aggressive, more like self-conscious.

'Did you pity me, Sosuke?'

"Because you were hurt," corrected Aizen smoothly, regarding her knowingly with his features kept, careful to show only concern and gentleness, but not pity.

'You loathe being felt sorry for, Naruka.'

"But you fuckin' hurt me too, love," whispered Doll heatedly, before she bit her tongue hard when she saw the other's expression fall, turning to stone.

She quickly looked away before he managed to steel the lapse in his features, berating herself.

They were both equally aware as to where they currently stood, so she really didn't constantly have to remind him.

But she couldn't help it. It was at times like this that she hated herself more than she hated him.

"Then I'll leave," he offered quietly, already heading for the door "There's water there by your side and some pills in case-"

Magenta eyes screamed with silent angst as Doll called out hurriedly: "Don't. Stay, Sosuke."

Stilling, Aizen blinked, before raising his eyebrows, head tilted with a teasing lilt to his tone: "Don't stay, Sosuke?"

"No, I mean- You fuckin' know what I mean. Stay."

"Alright, alright. Am I a dog to you now? Should I bark?"

Needless to say, with her furious blush retuning tenfold, she did not at all appreciate the joke.

"Fuck off."

Relieved to see her steadily getting herself beck together, the immortal chuckled at her hostility, knowing full well she didn't mean them, not at the moment at least: "So good to have you back."

Doll eyed him blankly for a moment, wearing that inconveniently indecipherable expression of hers, before she glanced away, uttering distantly: "I still hate you, Sosuke."

'Little liar,' voiced Aizen's mind reprovingly, prior to immediately countering that allegation with vehemence 'Oh, do be quiet. You're in no way better, by not admitting what you feel.'

Smiling delicately, the child of chaos dryly conceded to her lie: "Of course you do, Naruka."

Aizen reopened his eyes, sighing deeply. He was incapable of uttering aloud what he assuredly felt for her - it resembled love too much, and that could cost him dearly to admit, to give into - but he could easily declare this. Losing her, would be losing the greatest, the best part of himself.

With that, the child of chaos had finally mustered up enough daring to confront that man, in an attempt to protect Doll from the other's rancorous wrath, moving to the desk to call the man up.

The wait during dial had been nerve-racking, the ringing like an echo of impending doom. The immortal inhaled sharply, forcing himself to calm down his nerves, just as the telephone on the other side picked up.

Aizen stilled as, at first, nothing could be heard but a strident, sizzling sound of static...but then he realized that it was actually the sound of raspy, wheezy breathing that sounded like static...

"Yes?"

Composing himself, the immortal got ready to begin the parley, his voice smoothing itself with pleasantness and playfulness: "Good morning, Mr Wile."

"Well, well. Dear Sosuke. What a true pleasure."

000000000000000000000000000000000000

As Grimmjow recounted, Ichigo definitely learned a few things. And he was sincerely surprised by them, though he did have to wonder how knowing about them would help them in any way.

One of them was that the former Espada found out that the bracelets locked around their left wrists - the ones holding their 'tags' - also served to point out in which area they'd be used.

...Used sexually, of course.

It wasn't visible to them, but apparently the patrons, when approaching the dolls, had a digital-like card, which was swiped over the bracelet, revealing all the necessary details concerning a doll. That way, the patrons would stumble upon what fit their tastes and fantasies. Effortlessly.

In the blue-haired male's case, for instance, he was exclusively a seme when with the patrons and could be used to top both genders. With the dolls however, fucking became very volatile...

...It sincerely bothered the teenager how casual and at ease the feline was with such vocabulary. What bothered him more, was the fact that other people were going to lay their hands on them.

"In that moment, as odd and spontaneous as it was, the teenager had decided there and then that he'd never feel comfortable under anyone's touch...other than Grimmjow's or Byakuya's."

The teen found himself recalling that one stray thought and decided to cling on it like a lifeline. Even if there wasn't much he could do to prevent it all, he sure as hell wouldn't let it last long.

"What I don't get, is why haven't we tried escaping yet?" spoke up the Shinigami Substitute, waiting before interrupting the other, all while brown eyes distractedly glanced at his own bracelet, nervous about what he would be "I mean, we've been left on our own more than once, no? ...Like now. The door isn't even locked, right?"

Before Grimmjow could even reply, another voice cut him to it: "It's rather obvious, isn't it?"

Faintly startled, the teenager and the feline both glanced over to see Byakuya, arms crossed and clad lightly in a white bathrobe, standing by the bathroom's entrance, his stance unforthcoming.

They both stared at him wide-eyed, like he was some sort of apparition. They hadn't heard him come in, and apparently the dark-haired male had actually been here for a while. The carpet at the shinigami captain's feet was rather damp, with the extra water dripping from his pale skin.

The Kuchiki was scrutinizing them, his expression closed, his eyes, of a colder silver grey than ever, slowly dropping down to where the teen and the feline were now loosely holding hands.

For some reason that prompted Ichigo to retrieve it immediately and back away a little - during their chat, the teenager had also unconsciously inched a tad closer to Grimmow, leaning in, in order to catch every word as well as, for some reason, feeling rather comfortable when close to the other - under the impression he had done something offensive. At least, that was what the noble's eyes appeared to be conveying.

The teen had been so distracted by their talk that he had forgotten about Byakuya. Completely.

True, he and Grimmjow had given the other some space, but now, Ichigo felt rather horrible for it. Because the noble seemed to be in an even worse state than what he'd seen these past nights.

"No need to lock us in when they know we cannot leave. And besides, even we did eventually - by some miracle - manage to flee, how would it benefit us? We are helpless with these shackles to our wrist - ones which we cannot take off ourselves - making us easy targets," highlighted the 6th Division's captain with seething calm, before pointing indignantly at his own silver bracelet and the imprisonment it represented "This things will not let us leave these grounds. I know. Aizen has proven it. Don't ask me how. It is not a pleasant memory. Not only that, but we are largely, if not immensely, overpowered and outnumbered, notably without the Seireitei's aid. You really should at least think a little before spouting absolute nonsense, Kurosaki Ichigo."

"I don't like how you're implying that I'm an idiot," said the young male calmly with a scowl, not blaming the dark-haired male's rage and distress, but sincerely not wanting to be an outlet.

"I'm not implying it. I'm stating it. Nuance."

Brow furrowed, Grimmjow stared, at loss for words. The tension between the other two males was vivid, he could practically feel it prickling across his skin.

Ok. Fine, they weren't the closest of individuals, but this was a whole other level of distancing. The Kuchiki noble honestly seemed to want nothing to want to do either of them, if his stance and set space was any indication. And yet, whereas Ichigo had previously been defensive, Byakuya was completely on the offensive, even more enraged and on edge than ever. It didn't take a genius to see it. Despite the eerie dead calm the noble was displaying...he was very upset.

The Shingami Substitute had been looking for a reason to explode, but the shinigami captain had already exploded. It was like, the dark-haired male wanted to burn the whole world down. And the teen was somewhere between pacifying and firm, as if determined to prove the other that he had no reason to be burned along too.

"Fine, Byakuya. I'm an idiot. A guileless, naïve idiot. Happy?" conceded the young male with a sigh, not wanting to start a fight with the other, and yet unthinkingly muttered under his breath "If I was any different, Rukia would be long dead by now."

Only, unfortunately, the 6th Division's captain heard him.

If the Kuchiki noble had been angry afore, at the teenager's words, he became downright livid, his features growing dimmer, his lips thinning and his narrowed eyes glaring with a lethal blaze.

"Don't. You. Dare," seethed Byakuya quietly in a low, lethal hiss "You should've never gotten yourself involved with us Shinigami in the first place, do you hear, Kurosaki Ichigo? NEVER."

Ichigo's breath hitched aloud, the protective walls hoisted around himself cracking and giving away a little.

...Ouch. Now that stung.

Especially since, Byakuya had told him to stay away, Orihime had tried to keep him away, Grimmjow had pleaded with him to not get involved... Yeah, he really didn't need a reminder.

Despite the young male being hasty to school his expression again, Grimmjow had not missed the flash of hurt and guilt crossing the teen's features, so the feline decided to step in, his tone commanding, inflexible as he spoke to the noble: "Enough. That has bloody nothing to do with this. Stop taking out your fuckin' frustrations on Kurosaki. Now. I fuckin' mean it, pretty boy."

Without looking in Grimmjow's direction, a perfect dark eyebrow arched defiantly, showing he had heard every word, as he countered cuttingly, coldly: "Do I look frustrated? Belay that, I. Am. Livid. And I- Did you just threaten me?"

Upon realizing that bit, the 6th Division's captain was thrown off for a moment, eyes widened. Stiffening, aghast trepidation crossed his features, scarring memories flashing forward, before the noble hastily pushed them away, resentful and restless anger once again returning to him.

"And if I don't stop, you'll do what, exactly? What could you possibly do to me? Surely nothing worse than what you've already d-" Byakuya abruptly trailed off, his voice failing him for a moment, grey eyes widening as he realized what he had been about to thoughtlessly utter. The noble couldn't say that. He had hated that time in Las Noches, but he couldn't accuse the feline.

Silver grey agitatedly darted over to tamed, tranquil blue ones, and then vehemence came back tenfold to Byakuya, his emotions an uncontrollable wreck, a mess: "Do you not realize what Aizen Sosuke is making us to be?! Making me to be?! You don't even realize what it is like-"

Grimmjow swiftly got up and walked over to the noble with such speed, that in but a few strides, he had reached Byakuya, and the latter, startled by the suddenness of it, backed away in alarm, but his back collided fast with the wall behind him, the feline now looming grandly over him.

"Grimmjow!" yelled Ichigo as he shot up in panic, worried that the former Arrancar had lost his cool and was about to hit the 6th Division's captain or something.

The dark-haired male manifestly seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because he was stiff and on his guard, with his face pale as a sheet, his breath erratic, shaky. No matter how much he rationalized it, Byakuya hadn't gotten over what had happened back in Las Noches.

But, the feline didn't lay a finger on the noble. He too, however, had lost his calm, eyes flaring.

"You know nothing, noble blood. Nothing," snarled the blue-haired male, thrusting his face into the petrified Kuchiki's personal breathing space "You think you fuckin' know it all, simply because you were fuckin' used to a life where everyone was beneath you. And now that you're beneath others, you can't fuckin' stand it - despite this just being the fuckin' beginning for you. Think of what others have to fuckin' say after enduring something like this for a lifetime or longer. It's not just about you, pretty boy. Stop fuckin' acting like the only victim in the room."

A silence imposed itself, blue eyes never leaving grey, the former Espada let those words sink in, with the Kuchiki stunned still by the blow they caused. Even the teen was affected by them.

With his point made, the feline pulled away, throwing an apologetic glance at the shaken noble, before his eyes hardened in cautionary warning: "Now, fuckin' leave the kid alone. Nothing happening to us is his fuckin' fault."

Regardless of the fact that he had just been chastised in such a manner, Byakuya was speechless. But for something quite different. He had noticed that the former Arrancar valued the Shinigami Substitute, but this, this right now, was a lot more than that. And the noble fleetingly, curiously wondered if the feline himself realized this. ...How truly odd for a being that was once Hollow.

Nevertheless, there was not a flaw in the blue-haired male's words. He was right. Terribly right.

Feeling a whole other version of shame than the one he had been coerced to endure, the Kuchiki lowered his head, just as reproachful towards himself as the feline had been, if not a tad more.

Byakuya felt stifled, oppressed, his heart, mind and soul - predominantly fuelled by anger, fear and loathing, both at others and himself - were all warring a violent but futile battle he couldn't escape from, clawing at him from the inside, ripping him to shreds, shards he was having trouble holding on to.

He just couldn't get any of the vivid, fresh images of these passed nights' events out of his head no matter how he tried, the Twilights' touches - whether mockingly gentle or purposely cruel - stapling horrific moments deep within his mind, overlapping and intertwining with other vile, abusive memories he had been through before and since the immortal broke free from Muken (7).

Unable to help it, Byakuya was losing it, losing every bit of himself. ...He was losing himself. At times, he could barely remember why he was here in the first place, in between forgetting and forsaking bits and pieces of who he once was. At times, he couldn't even admit that he was the Kuchiki Clan's leader. ...A Clan's leader? ...Of the great, grand Kuchiki name? Reduced to this? A world, a nightmare of pain, pathos and pressured pleasure? And probably even worse yet? Unthinkable. Impossible. ...Unforgivable.

Aizen - and now the Twilights - had a way of acting on his nerves, making a total disarray of him. His emotions were on edge, his usual impeccable control over them slipping. Dangerously.

Grimmjow was correct, however. It wasn't an enough excuse. It wasn't Ichigo's fault. At all.

"No. No, it isn't," whispered Byakuya aloud, quietly agreeing with the feline, before tentatively looking over at the other two males, gaze penitent "My apologies, Kurosaki Ichigo. And to you, Arra- No. Jeagerjaques."

They both nodded but before either could speak, the Kuchiki hastily added, directly addressing the teenager, his dimmed, drained grey eyes so expressive, almost pleading: "It's just... I hate that - really hate - you had to see me...that anyone had to me like that..."

The noble's hectic, overwrought mind hissed at him, vindictively filling in the rest of sentence: 'Pathetic. Powerless.'

But Byakuya didn't dare utter those two words aloud.

"I'd never think badly of you, Kuchiki-taichou."

Byakuya stiffened, staring at the half-smiling teenager with wide stunned eyes. Ichigo had but once called him by his family name. Even less by his title within the Gotei 13. Meaning never.

Staggered, the 6th Division's captain inquired slowly, softly: "Why are you always like this? Always so...forgiving? So unselfish?"

"Because I care," declared the teenager easily with startling honesty...that made the noble want to groan, but he managed to hold it back at the last minute, settling for a roll of his eyes instead.

Once again, he was in the midst of a situation where he felt like a total stranger, like an alien. Byakuya was used to admiration from others, but affection from them, from outsiders, was odd.

The noble knew well that the teen cared. He simply never considered that he cared this much...

"But why? We were never...close," trailed off the dark-haired male with a frown, the unfamiliar words heavy on his tongue and leaving a stinging feeling on his lips. But not an unpleasant one.

"But we are now. And will be, from here on out," pointed out Ichigo, brown eyes faintly forlorn as he looked away "We - You guys are all I have. And I don't want to lose either of you too."

"I- Kurosaki Ichigo, I- I am flattered, truly."

"I don't think I've ever fuckin' heard you stutter, pretty boy."

"Do be quiet," muttered the faintly embarrassed dark-haired male, glaring at the smirking feline, before his smirk broadened further upon seeing that the noble's glare was merely half-hearted.

A couple of moments later, the three of them were all seated on the couch together, exchanging back and forth between what they had learnt and should do from here on out, though the former Arrancar did most of the talking, both in explaining and in advising. The other were not totally comfortable with certain aspects of the discussion, but they did set aside that unease to focus on the matter at hand.

Grimmjow recalled that, just a while ago, the mere mention of sexual endeavours made the two squirmy and skittish. The teenager and the noble had changed, and the blue-haired feline wasn't too sure if that was a good or bad thing...or maybe a bit of both.

"Listen, I do understand that Aizen Sosuke holds us each in resentment of some sort, but is this truly necessary? Doing this to us? Out of all the possible torments he could have unleashed?"

Though, the Kuchiki honestly seemed to be more outraged than rattled by what was happening.

"To be honest, there isn't fuckin' worse," stated the former Espada bitterly, shaking his head, his eyes gleaming hatefully "Aizen always uses manipulation to meet his ends. When that fails, extortion and violation follow closely behind. Keep in mind that he's a Child of bloody Chaos. What else is there to fuckin' expect?"

At that, the noble raised a dark eyebrow incredulously: "Is that supposed to justify his deeds? Simply because he is chaos in name, means that chaos he can freely inflict? As simple as that?"

"If you fuckin' knew what that title actually meant, you wouldn't be asking, Kuchiki," retorted Grimmjow wearily, before he stilled, just realizing the other really didn't know what it meant.

Faint curiosity, as well as frustration, lit the shinigami captain's eyes: "Then explain. Since you seemingly know so much."

The former Espada grimaced. Damn it. This was not going to be simple.

"I...can't."

Silver grey eyes widened a fraction at first, before they narrowed menacingly: "Why ever not?"

"He- Aizen found out that I had told everyone else back when we were all held fuckin' captive in the Seireitei after the Other War. Everyone now knows what I know, all of them expect you and the other Kuchiki locked with you," related the feline, eyes dimming as he seemed to be far away, recalling something "Aizen...went livid, for lack of another word. And then, did this."

As the blue-haired male then opened his mouth wide and smoothly stuck out his tongue, both Byakuya and Ichigo stared with a faint amount of increasing horror.

There was a dark mark etched upon the feline's appendage. At first glance, the tongue looked burnt black, in an odd manner. But then, the two males could make out what appeared to be an upside-down letter 'A' ensnared in the thorny vines of a single rose...a symbol which looked exactly like the ethereal birthmark Hinamori Aizen had showed off to everyone back during the Other War(8). A mark shaped threateningly and standing exclusively for the Children of Lust.

"The Aizens' seal," uttered Grimjow darkly, distantly, after he had drawn his tongue back in, his words confirming what the other two had unfortunately guessed "It can have...many knacks. In my case though, it fuckin' prevents me from ever revealing any of his secrets, ever again."

While Byakuya was outright horrified, Ichigo shuddered, aghast.

...Chilling. No one could get more possessive and tyrannical than that.

"How dreadfully convenient," muttered the Kuchiki noble bitterly, before he raised an eyebrow "Is there any way to counter it? Could you not write it down?"

"Nothing will work. Just thinking about it is giving me a real fuckin' headache. If I try to talk about it, no words will come out. Try to write it out, I'll be fuckin' paralyzed, 'til I give it up."

Now, Byakuya was utterly speechless, whereas Ichigo froze. He had once jokingly said that the immortal was a control freak. He had no clue as to how accurate that blithe-made statement was.

"Why go so far?"

"Don't you get it?" snapped the former Espada, throwing the Shinigami Substitute a subtle, yet significant look while jabbing his thumb in the Kuchiki noble's direction "Aizen doesn't bloody want him to fuckin' figure things out."

"...Such is my misfortune. Recurrently being kept in the dark," sighed the 6th Division's captain drearily, a hand to his forehead while sounding dreadfully dramatic...without meaning to. Much.

Catching the former Arrancar's hint, the teenager hesitated a moment, thinking it through, before somewhat agreeing with the other, so Ichigo spoke up flippantly: "Isn't, just sometimes, ignorance supposed to be bliss?"

Annoyed grey eyes slowly flickered towards the young male, the noble's tone firm, chastising: "This no laughable matter."

"...I was just trying to lighten the mood, jeez," muttered the teen with a scowl, glancing away, with the shinigami captain raising his eyebrows faintly, whereas the feline, however, felt a tad relieved. As well as a little guilty. But this was a truth that would not do the noble any good...yet would be an extreme advantage for the immortal's benefit. ...A cruel if not necessary sacrifice.

Hence, in truth, lightening the mood wasn't the only thing the young male was trying to do. Ichigo was one of those present when Grimmjow had revealed what the Children of Chaos stood for, and though the teenager was still unclear on the matter, he honestly didn't know how to breach the news for Byakuya. It was just way too...delicate a matter to breach upon.

Besides, given how shocked Yoruichi had been(9), the teen was pretty sure the Kuchiki would be just as horrified, if not more. Would the noble even believe it, accept it? Most certainly not.

The Shinigami Substitute didn't get to dwell longer on the matter, for the former Arrancar spoke up again, tone inquiring, cautious: "So, where have you two been these past nights? I tried to get to you, but nobody would fuckin' let me. Nor tell me anything."

Grimmjow knew he shouldn't ask. But he had to know. Had to ease that terrible, terrible feeling which was gnawing at him, from somewhere deep within him, driving him wild with worry.

The other two males' very first reaction was to still completely, their eyes wide as they glanced hesitantly, anxiously at each other, neither Ichigo nor Byakuya willing to share their nightmare.

Fair enough. Grimmjow was hiding things too, after all.

The feline was about to courteously let it go, the Kuchiki noble spoke up, his words very vague.

"We were with- with the Twilights. On Aizen's orders," said the 6th Division's captain, unable to keep his speech fluent despite his calm tone, which entirely betrayed the way he actually felt "They...'taught' us how to...how to conduct ourselves. For later on. ...When with the patrons."

The former Arrancar blinked. That could literally mean anything.

...How entirely reassuring. He probably was better off not knowing. Curse him and his curiosity.

"Which I still don't get, by the way," mumbled the young male, trying to look blasé about the matter at hand, but the feline didn't miss the tremor in the teenager's hands "You know about this...stuff, Grimmjow, right? Why not have you teach us?"

The former Espada froze, unsure how to feel about that question. On one hand, he was definitely disturbed by the idea of others touching either of the two males seated beside him. Yet on the other hand, if he'd been the one to do the 'training', it may have eventually gotten too emotional. Dangerous.

Rather than answer, the former Espada obstinately held onto the subject that troubled him more, but the noble was swift cut him off before he could ask again, seeing right through the feline and understanding the worry, but utterly unable to bear the thought of reliving these past nights.

The scarring, dark memories of them etched deep within, were more than enough to deal with.

"I beg you, don't," whispered the Kuchiki urgently, in a shaky voice that was half-commanding, half-beseeching, his eyes drowning in shame "Don't ask what they did to us. ...Please, don't."

Mutely adjudging at first, the feline eventually nodded, much the dark-haired male's relief. But in Grimmjow's case, he now felt worse than before, swiftly glancing away, eyes narrowed, a glint of fury and vengeance instilling themselves within the burning blue.

...He'd have to do something about this, find a way to get back at them - Aizen and Twilights - for, though doing it on the immortal's orders, harming Ichigo and Byakuya so badly that neither were capable of talking about it.

As the feline plotted and the teenager himself furrowed his brow over his own reflections, the noble's thoughts too were silently along a dark path.

Byakuya had just made a miserable attempt at cleaning off the feel of vilifying humiliation. He genuinely didn't want to remember. But his mind wasn't listening to him. It was slowly letting those dark, horrid memories seep back forward, devastating and sullying him all over again. However, he didn't dare give in, desperately holding himself together. Because he wasn't alone. Under no circumstances whatsoever, would he crack down in front of them. That'd destroy him.

So, instead, the noble delicately hid his face within his hands, letting out a soft, strained sigh: "This can't be real. This has to be a nightmare."

Upon witnessing the dark-haired male steadily becoming one with depression, the young male felt like he had to say something, so he tentatively raised his voice, just a tad above a whisper: "It could be worse, you know."

Lowering his hands brusquely, the Kuchiki honestly couldn't stop the glare flaring up his eyes: "Worse than this? Define it then."

"O-Oh. ...Ok. Well, first, if you had just conformed to what the Twilights wanted right from the start, they wouldn't have done worse to you. Second-"

"Excuse me? How can you put it in such a manner? As if what happened is somehow my fault?!"

"That's not what I said," placated Ichigo patiently, gently eyeing the other with consideration "I'm saying that you - and I, and even Grimmjow, I'm guessing - swore oaths to Aizen. We swore that we'd give ourselves up to him. So, we have to give ourselves up. Completely."

"I'd rather hold on to whatever ounce of dignity I have left," stated the Kuchiki noble rigidly, grasping the lucidness and logic in the teenager's words, but failing to accept them. He simply couldn't bring himself to do exactly as Aizen Sosuke pleased. No way he could. His pride and ego had been bruised enough, and he genuinely didn't think he could handle more than that.

"There's nothing bloody dignified about being fucked. Just fuckin' saying," uttered Grimmjow blandly with a shrug, his cutting, blunt truth causing Byakuya's jaw to drop with aghast horror.

"Don't you dare-"

"Second, it might have not been any of us," spoke up the Shinigami Substitute gravely, carrying on from where he had been cut off, his words obtaining the Kuchiki's entire attention "When we swore those oaths, it was with the intention to protect, wasn't it? What we're going through, it's... It's horrifying, terrifying, hateful, tortuous, anything and everything you want to name it. But we can't turn back now, can we?"

...Since when had the young male become a voice of reason? Had he always been this mature?

"No, we can't. Better us than them, indeed," stated Byakuya, this time fully agreeing with the teen, despite the nagging concern at the back of his mind which he then found himself voicing "Only, does that truly mean we are to lie down and let them all have their way with us? Waste away here and become unreservedly rotted? You do understand what is coming, don't you? How this will carry on for us in time, if nothing's done?"

"I know, but it doesn't matter," stated Ichigo with a shake of his head, before he asserted sturdily "Because we're getting out of here."

To say the other two were stunned was an understatement. They were completely blown away, flabbergasted and staring at the third male as though he had lost his mind, the noble more so then the feline though.

"How?" they both asked simultaneously, their disbelief and shock making the teen smile a bit.

"I don't know," replied the teenager with that genuine and alarming honesty of his, yet quite steadfast and resolute about his declaration "But we will. I'll figure something out, I promise."

Staring at the teen, Byakuya blinked mutely, incredulous.

But, oddly enough, he believed him. The young male had made the impossible happen before. A boy of miracles, an actual feat he and many others have been a witness to, but would keep from admitting aloud. It wouldn't hurt to believe in him for this too...right? Or was it too much to put all their hopes in a child?

Sighing quietly, the shinigami captain closed his eyes, for once purposefully immersing himself in the darkness that was steadily becoming his life...and Byakuya knew, he wouldn't be able to keep it up forever.

Therefore, it was pretty clear to him that, between this pathological pornographic prison and a possibility at strenuous freedom, no matter how thin or risky, he'd take that gamble.

Grey eyes opened again and flickered over to the determination alit within those brown eyes...

"I'll hold you onto that promise, Kurosaki Ichigo. Get us out of here," declared the noble firmly, to which the teen solemnly nodded, whereas Byakuya's mind unhelpfully hissed again curtly 'Before we become too far gone to leave.'

I won't take this world's abuse

I won't give up, I refuse

This is how it feels when you're bent and broken

This is how it feels when your dignity's stolen

When everything you love is leaving

You hold on to what you believe in

(Not Gonna Die, by Skillet)

To be continued...

Next Update: Immoral and Amoral (Chapter 3)

---

(1) See Part 1 of the Fallen Series, Chapter 8: Fate for Spoils.

(2) Yep, so metaphor here. The scent of burning roses means something. Care to figure it out?

(3) Ok, so 'Naruka' is Aizen's affectionate pet name for Doll. And 'Gamine' (which is French for 'Girlie' or 'Little Girl') is how anyone else, that isn't a member of Débauche, addresses her as. But neither are her real name. Still not revealing who Doll really is yet. If, however, you've guessed it by now, that's really great! I only ask that you don't accidently reveal it to those who don't know yet. Suspense...

(4) As in neither Ichigo nor Byakuya have endured sexual intercourse under either of the three Twilights for those four nights, given that they used sex toys for any moments of penetration.

(5) See Part 1 of the Fallen Series, Chapter 9: Taking It In, Scene 1.

(6) See Part 1 of the Fallen Series, Chapter 5: Unexpected Treachery Amidst (Part 1), Scene 2.

(7) See Part 1 of the Fallen Series, Chapter 5: Unexpected Treachery Amidst (Part 2), Scene 6.

(8) See Part 1 of the Fallen Series, Chapter 5: Countdown to Chaos (Part 2), Scene 9 (Six).

(9) See Part 1 of the Fallen Series, Chapter 7: And They Fall, Scene 5.

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A/N: Whoa, that was unbelievably long... Believe me, this chapter was extremely hard to write. Ok, ladies, gents and everyone else, so the following update will be on January 1st, give or take. I will update earlier than that if next chapter's finished earlier than planned. I'm going to try to go back to how I used to update before, one or two updates every two months. Please do wish me luck on that, everyone.

Also, I'll reply to all and any reviews and PMs you may have up until then, so don't be shy.

Anyways, thank so much for reading the madness I write. See you next update! Bye for now!