A/N : -Does one of those dumb girly claps and squeals involuntarily- Kyliwolf WINS! You are my hero ;-D (I can't even spell it. . .)

Several other people got it too XD. . .you know who you are lol.

Ilea Dreike guessed Ichimaru Gin and I laughed because I wish it could have been him that would have been really fun to write, but that is like someone else's story (Smoke and Flowers? Omg I had a nightmare about Gin after I read that. . .no joke. . .) and he is no longer captain in my story, which isn't important, I think.

WARNING: THIS IS THE CHAPTER THAT NEARLY PROMPTED ME TO CALL THIS STORY "CRACK IS PINK" or "PINK HEROIN." (I wasn't being serious, but this chapter does stretch things a little. . .)

And, consequently, this was the hardest chapter to write. That is why it took me longer than my unofficial deadline. . .which was at least five days ago. . .

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, because if I did, certain perpetual problems (aka people wasting away by themselves in corridors while significant others are off doing other things—cough damn you Ichigo cough) would not be perpetual.

And I do not own "Gone With the Wind," as told to me by some very kind person (ha), so that line down there someplace isn't mine either.

This is dedicated to Kyliwolf,
who guessed the captain first,
and to the three teenagers from my high school
who have died in the past two years
from cancer and meningitis.

Chapter 3:

Oh Captain, My Captain and the Taste of Amaranth

The first few training sessions had been both manageable and promising.

He had been nice, uncommonly so, and her barriers had dropped slightly.

He took advantage of her sudden, foolish weakness and pounced. His praise had been welcome, if unexpected, and it recklessly raised her self-esteem a few notches.

"Well done, Ise-san!" he exclaimed, rubbing his hands together happily. "The kidō you have produced is fantastic! I'm sure you are beginning to get the hang of it now."

"Thank you, sir," she murmured, pushing up her glasses, almost embarrassed.

"Ise-fukutaichō, if you could run over to the barracks and gather the Fourth Seat's reports from his group, I would greatly appreciate it."

"Of course, sir."

Yes, Kurotsuchi Mayuri had seemed like a good man, one who gave her the creeps, but a good man all the same.

How she wished that had been true.

She had forgotten the rumors on purpose, not wanting to believe ill of a man she did not know. And so had the instruction gone, but every training session he reduced the amount of praise and increased the amount of jobs.

By now, bone weariness had settled in and she knew she was being overworked. And by overworked she meant being pushed beyond the limits of her and probably any other's—except possibly Hitsugaya-taichō's—capabilities and having to endure "training sessions" as well.

She still went back to eighth squad twice a week, but Kurotsuchi had not bothered to hide his anger at this and she felt that her visits would soon become limited. She usually spent her time in eighth squad resting with the few friends she had had there, organizing Shunsui's paperwork (he actually seemed to be doing some of it. . .), or trying to ignore the chaos that now reigned supreme in her absence (she had thought this would happen, she just hadn't wanted to admit it to herself). On top of that, she had been studiously avoiding Shunsui in hopes that someday they would be able to speak normally to each other. Whenever she saw him, the pain would start again and even the numbness couldn't dampen it. He always put on a good face, but she realized that he did miss her. Very much so.

Maybe she had been listening to Ukitake-taichō too much, but she was beginning to doubt what she had thought about Kyōraku-taichō previously.

Maybe she had made a grievous mistake.

But, of course, it was too late now. Kurotsuchi had her in his grasp, and, for one of the first times in her long life, she was at a loss for words or actions.

She remembered the first time Kurotsuchi had seemed a bit "off" to her. . .

Oh, the lights, they were so bright—what am I doing here? I belong in cool darkness with Kyōraku-taichō by my side—she had thought wildly as his test room surrounded her in its bleak harshness.

She had already been there many times, but this time it was different. Kurotsuchi was in an odd mood, and it was causing her to be deeply uneasy. He seemed excited, but darkly so. Nanao blamed her over active imagination and briskly inserted the metal probe that picked up on one of Kurotsuchi's machines into her arm, ignoring the pinch as it entered her blood stream. Setting herself, she relaxed in preparation for the stimulation.

It was indeed different, radically so. Normally, Kurotsuchi had thrown various obstacles and simulations at her to force her to produce kidō.

This time he sent odd light patterns, various sounds, changing temperatures, and even shocks to overwhelm her.

By the end, she was lying on the floor, gasping. How was she supposed to know he was going to go into the unexpected bombardment?!

A kick to the stomach and a slash across the back. His doing. Her first downfall.

He gave her a smile both twisted and falsely comforting. "Pay more attention, Ise-san. We don't want any. . .accidents, do we?"

She looked up at him, confused, and finally it came back in full.

The fear.

After that she lived in slight apprehension that grew worse every time he subtly antagonized her: a brief touch, an accidental pinch, knocking things into her, drawing blood "by mistake."

Then came the actual threat. . .the one training session she could only remember pieces of. . .

The fingers trailed disturbingly soft over her skin, while the nails left faint pink marks in their wake—

There was blood, she knew she was loosing blood, and then she was suddenly whole but feeling as though she had been dismembered, and then grafted together again; thoroughly violated—

The bruise blossomed like a flower in the spring, and she knew that it had been as deliberate as the last, forcing her to work harder, or to drive her fear deeper—

It was her new captain, he had tricked her and was now using some sort of mind technique, something completely foreign, and she was being tortured. . .tortured

Blood and bruises, some real, some fake; swords and kidō, some of it cut and scalded, some of it whistled past. . .she was breaking under the pressure, the torment—

Then his face, his leering, multicolored face— "Ah, now we see how it is, don't we Ise Nanao?" he laughed. "Yes, and we'd never want my fingers to slip—" Spirits and gods, his hand was on her neck, and she couldn't breath, suddenly his fingers were stroking her cheek, making her draw back in shock— "Ah, ah, none of that, Nanao-chan," he purred. "I always get what I want and this time I want two things, quite different, and yet so attainable—"

Her world went dark, but she could still feel his touch on her face, caressing her stinging flesh—

She couldn't understand it. What had she ever done to him?! But he achieved his goal.

She worked harder, and she feared him a little more.

She was going to give out any day now, and she dreaded to think what Kurotsuchi would do if that happened.

This was folly. And so had said—

"Nanao! Ise Nanao! Stop for just a minute!" exclaimed Matsumoto, finally catching up to the Tenth Company vice captain. She bent over, gasping, and tried to look at her impossible friend. "This is ridiculous! You have to listen to me and—and your heart! Leaving now. . .Nanao, you can't! It's folly!"

"Rangiku," Nanao said sternly. "If you are winded after just that, then you are definitely out of shape."

"I've been following you forever!" She straightened and began to walk with Nanao to fourth squad. "Really, Nanao, why didn't you tell me there was a possibility that you could be working with Kurotsuchi?!"

"I was hoping it wasn't true," Nanao mumbled, her shoulders drooping slightly.

"Well, it's happened, hasn't it?" Matsumoto said worriedly.

"Indeed it has. . ."

"If you tell Shunsui to complain. . ."

"I've already decided that it's best that I leave. I'm having problems. . .dealing with Kyōraku-taichō all of a sudden and it would probably help him if I were gone too. Not to mention that the only way I can make him happy is to heal Ukitake. That is something I can do."

"Something you can—Ise Nanao, have you—"

"Please don't say it out loud," sighed Nanao, suddenly collapsing against a building and bringing her hands to her face.

"No, really, did you—did you fall for Shunsui?!"

"Don't sound so surprised," she said faintly, shifting so that her wound wasn't against the wall. "You always told me it was bound to happen. . ."

"Oh, but Nanao! This is wonderful! If you and Shunsui were together, than even that creep Kurotsuchi can't harm you! Maybe even the General—"

"No, Matsumoto," she told her friend tiredly. "It's already been decided. And there isn't any 'me and Shunsui'—" Matsumoto couldn't remember the last time Nanao had said his name and the way she said it was both bitter and revering, so complex— "and there never can be a 'me and Shunsui' because he doesn't lo—" she bit her lip. "It's just not like that."

"Oh, Nanao," she breathed, "don't say that, it's—"

Nanao got herself up and began to walk away. "Impossibilities never made for good wishes."

"—not true," Matsumoto whispered after her fellow vice captain. "Nanao! Nanao!" she called out, chasing after her again. "Nanao, you're wrong, he's—"

"Flighty? Insincere?" Nanao snapped.

"No! No, he isn't You once told me you admired his loyalty! He's a great man, if you'd only give him a chance!"

"I know he's great man," she said stiffly.

"Well, Kurotsuchi isn't! You've heard about him, I know you have! He's heartless, cruel, inhumane, a project—"

"I know," Nanao cut her off. "Believe me, I know. But he was relatively nice to me. And he's the only one who will be able to figure out my kidō. I have no—"

"You have a choice! I've told you, you think your heart is breaking?! What do you think will happen to Shunsui?!"

"When I leave, his world will keep on turning. Please, do not make me feel any more insignificant then I already am."

"Nanao, you are—"

"Stubborn? Only if I know I'm right."

They were at the doors of the main fourth squad infirmary. "Nanao," Matsumoto said seriously, "please think about what I said. And what ever choice you make has to be the one that you feel is right, so I guess if you go to Kurotsuchi. . .I'll still be here, Nanao. If you ever need me, tell me. You know—"

"I can count on you. Thanks, Rangiku," Nanao smiled weakly, and she gave her a quick, uncharacteristic hug.

"Alright, well, I have to go see to Taichō before he stabs himself with a pen, but feel better, Nanao-san!"

"Matsumoto?"

She paused. "Yes?"

"If it seems like something is wrong, talk to me or Shunsui. I don't know if I'll be able to do anything about it. . ."

The forlorn note in the strong woman's voice sent a chill up Matsumoto's spine. "Don't worry," she said quietly. "I will."

Matsumoto had been right. Kurotsuchi was cruel and heartless and inhumane and countless other things.

She had had ever right to be scared.

And Shunsui. . .he was a memory now, a memory that was too good to be true, from a time when her world was both light and dark in her happiness and annoyance, when her days had been filled with wholesome banter and a manageable amount of paperwork, when she had still been able to feel the world around her and understand it.

Oh, how she missed him. . .

"Ise-san. . ." No! her mind screamed, jerking out of its endless spin of mistakes. Please, please, please do not come over here right now, I am at my wit's end. . .

She sat very straight in her chair at one of the desks in the open area that was Kurotsuchi's work space. Maybe today he'd leave her alone. But that hope spluttered and died as soon as it surfaced. She knew she was exhausted; she was an easier target when she was this tired. He had to know that. She carefully completed a signature on one of the papers in front of her and said calmly, "Yes, Kurotsuchi-taichō."

"I was wondering if your work was done yet," he said in quite the same tone, but there was an undercurrent of something stronger and boastful in his voice, and the fingers that ran over her back were strong and searching. "I have a few things to discuss with you."

"I'm nearly done," she murmured, trying vainly to quell her fear and to stop the goose bumps that broke out along her skin at his touch.

"Mmmm," he murmured, and Nanao realized that the timbre of his voice had shifted. The tone was less mechanical, and more. . .well, human, really. His hands were tugging through her hair now, unraveling the tightly pinned strands, and she couldn't bear it. She began to shake, but continued to write the papers.

She knew that if she protested, he could crush her. No one would know. She was sick of thinking it, but she had no choice. She could die, or, worse, Kurotsuchi would kill innocents just to stay her hand and her mouth. He had once hinted as such, and she couldn't bear the thought of powerless people from Rukongai being tortured and "tested" only because she had slipped up. . .

"Why don't you ever wear your hair down, Ise-san?" he asked. "I'm sure it would look beautiful."

"Thank you, but I prefer to have it out of my way," Nanao gritted out as he suddenly freed her hair clip and tossed it aside.

Her mind blocked natural fighting reflexes and panicked screams as he began to lightly kiss her neck, much like Shunsui had once done. . .

Shunsui. . .

His hands wrapped tightly into her hair and he suddenly bit down, hard, into her shoulder. She muffled a scream, and jumped up from her chair to run away, fight-or-flight instincts winning over her previously superior calm.

He caught her, of course, but it had been worth the try.

"Why?!" she cried, spinning to face him, her composure in shards with her hair clip on the ground.

But any more of her questions were blown from her mind at the sight in front of her, and she gasped sharply.

A tall, broad-shouldered man in Mayuri's captain's robes, complete with distinctive purple collar and hanging Ashisogi Jizō, was standing before her. But he looked completely human, albeit with strange coloring: dark bluish hair and golden, now-enchanting eyes. Was this. . .was this what he really looked like? He was actually—he was actually handsome! "You—" she stuttered.

His smile grew wider and he was, beyond a doubt, Kurotsuchi Mayuri. "Relax, Nanao. Soon you won't have to worry about me hurting you anymore—if you cooperate."

Despair blossomed, dark and creeping, in her heart, and her awareness of where she was became detached. Her serene mind registered the whining of several machines to her left, the bubbling of a vat to her right, the humming of the computer, the clanging and banging of an experiment behind her, even the buzzing of a fly above her head and the rapid beating of her own heart.

In her new, resigned state, all her senses were sharper, even as she knew her body was a wreck.

A brief scent wafted through the normal acrid and sterile ones in the office to reach her nostrils and they flared, recognizing this odd smell.

Amaranth.

A spice, flower, or plant that was of use in healing and baking with a pungent and refreshing smell. She had had sprigs of it in her room in eighth squad, a tradition carried over from her hazy days on earth.

It was ironic really. . .

He pulled her to him and she forced herself to relax. "What have you done?" she asked forcefully.

"Someone told me that I wasn't living my life the right way," he told her as a hand moved restlessly through her hair. "That experimentation can't give you everything. They were right. There are some human instincts that can't—can't—be ignored. So I renewed my body." His lips were merely inches above her own, and she was drowning in auriferous pools of molten metal. And I didn't want to be used, she thought somewhat ruefully as despair continued to gnaw at her. I never would have thought this of Kurotsuchi Mayuri!

"Everything can be ignored, sir." She told him emotionlessly. This Kurotsuchi was just as frightening, surprisingly, but a thousand times more desirable. . .which might have made him worse, really.

"So I thought," he murmured, his thumbs tracing her cheeks and lips. "But I was wrong. I came to find that I did, in fact, want someone for this purpose, and I obviously couldn't use Nemu."

"I fail to see the point, sir," she said, wondering why on earth she had been picked above any others.

"Well, I decided on you, Ise Nanao, and your kidō, with a little encouragement, achieved my goal."

"You did this to my kidō?!" she snarled, rage burning to push away her despair and serenity for a moment.

"Not quite. It was already remarkable, it just needed a little coaxing."

"You have ruined my life!" Nanao growled. "How can you live with that?!"

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. And you'll soon see that I've done nothing of that sort. Your potential is just beginning to show."

"Why me?" she asked helplessly as his tantalizingly odd blue locks brushed her upturned face.

"Your beauty and strong will drew me, of course. Kyōraku Shunsui does not deserve something so exquisite lying within his reach and your ineffable captain needed to be taught a lesson," his voice was low and smooth, trailing caressingly off into nothingness.

Her world became this startling new Kurotsuchi Mayuri when his hard mouth enclosed hers and plundered it with his sharp tongue. She tried to push away, but he was too strong. Her skin smarted where his fingers dug into her back.

He broke away, breathing heavily, eyes alight with triumph. A hand traced the curve of her hip idly, and he said, "That such a marvelous prize could be snatched from the hands of Captain Eight is such a wonder to me. I will appreciate you far more than that drunk baboon."

"Sir, don't, please—"

She couldn't get away from his restless hands and strong arms. His hot, heady kisses overpowered her and she was vaguely aware of being forcibly moved against something cold and hard. The smell of amaranth suddenly assaulted her in full force and she drank the fumes of it in hungrily, wishing it could fill her mouth against the bitter-sweet taste of this captain.

What would Shunsui have tasted like? Sake and spices, maybe even amaranth, something good.

Something she would never know.

She felt straps closing around her wrists, and she thrashed, violently.

Kurotsuchi drew back, glaring, when she got the nerve to bite him. She blinked and found herself fastened to a large metal plate on the furthest back wall of the lab, practically obscured from view from the entrance rooms. "What are you doing?" she gasped out, her body still shaking with fear and exhaustion.

"Well, Nanao," Kurotsuchi declared, wiping blood off his lips. "I was going to explain this to you in detail, but seeing as you are being so uncooperative, I shall merely tell you this. I am going to drain your body of kidō potential and from now on you will have to return to me each day to obtain your daily dosage or you will die.

Your kidō will not run out in its storage, but multiply and become an unendingly valuable source of wealth for the both of us. The only drawback is that you will have to depend on me for the rest of your life. . .which isn't a drawback for me, only you, and possibly Nemu. But I believe she is comfortable at the thirteenth division, so it is only a drawback for you, really. . ."

"You're a monster," Nanao spat angrily as he snapped her kicking legs to the plate and strode over to what appeared to be the controls to this contraption.

"The kidō will go into the room behind this one, completely locked and secure, accessible only to me. If you calmed down, Nanao, this wouldn't be painful."

The plate began to rise, and blaring lights turned on. Her whole body was suddenly tingling, and her eyelids began to get heavy, "What did Shunsui ever do to you?" she managed to get out. That had to be it. Her captain had to have done something to slight Kurotsuchi.

He laughed humorlessly, manipulating a few controls so that metal clamps inserted probes attached to wires and tubes into her. "Plenty," he said, "but I will have my revenge now."

"Will I die?" she asked, fully expecting him not to care as her brain fogged with heat and the overpowering need to sleep. Oh, Matsumoto, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you, she thought sadly. And Shunsui, I probably should have trusted you, and you will never know how deeply sorry and regretful I am. . .

"The possibility is there since this equipment has never been tested, but it is highly unlikely. I fully intend to put you to good use, Ise Nanao. . ."

"The amaranth," she gasped dizzily, the drugs now in her blood stream making her practically incoherent. But she wanted know, she needed to know; if she died she would die not knowing this seemingly unimportant fact. . .

"The amaranth is in the chains for healing and control. Reminds you of your captain?"

She nodded defiantly with the last bit of her strength.

"Ah, Nanao, your Kyōraku Shunsui will pay. . ."

If there was a reason after this threat, she couldn't hear it through the roaring in her ears.

And again, as the darkness finally claimed her, she thought, How ironic.

This type of amaranth was called Love-Lies-Bleeding.

And amaranth was also a shade of pink.

- - -

Someone jerked up from an unaccustomed afternoon nap and stared blankly in the direction of twelfth squad, wondering if something was wrong and if there was something she should do. . .

- - -

A/N: I rushed the end a bit, I apologize.

I AM SO SORRY IF I BOTHERED ANYONE WITH KUROWHATSISNAME AND NANAO. It worked into the plotline, and I didn't like it any more than you did.

I promise there will be a major Shunsui v. Mayuri battle in the next one XD

Am I allowed to blow Mayuri up? Can I? Reviewers?

Speaking of which, I expect more than 13 because that's how many subscribers I have. . .

UPDATE OR MATSUMOTO WILL SMOTHER YOU TO DEATH :-D

P.S. and yes I broke a few rules with Mayuri and kidō. . .please give me a break. . .