At least two people encouraged me to continue, thinking that this story was not a one shot. Well, I'll give it another shot. I have no idea how I'm going to pull this together. Plots work best for me when I string them together as I work. But if you guys have any plot ideas, send them to me in a PM and I will consider them.

I got great reviews! Ten for a one shot in such a short amount of time! The Romance of a Withered Flower is even in a C2! YEAH. Do you know how exhilarating that was for me?? Very…very very very very!

Thanks so much to my awesome reviewers: happygirl24,Nakebenihime, ValykirieRevolution, vfergus, Anicka, CP, TideDrop, Angelusfaith, Midnight Lost, shAyy (YAAA TRIK YAAA!! :P)

Chapter Two

Hearken Unto Me

Men are but children of a larger growth:

Our appetites are as apt to change as theirs.

And full as cravings too, and full as vain.

--John Dryden, All for Love

Here is the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. –Shakespeare, Macbeth

The room was dark, because it was dark outside. The only visible object in the sky was a single thin clipping of a white crescent moon. You'd think, that with all the smothering black sky, the moon would struggle to spread its light through her window. But incredulously it didn't. It shone brighter in resistance. Eerie, and silent.

And here she was again and her arm was dangling off of the sofa, maneuvering like a single silver ball on a broken, emptied abacus. The other silver balls were gone, she imagined. Their strings had all been snapped from the wooden bar that handled them. And the less balls there were, the more room she had to push on the other balls, making their motions heavier…

"You belong to me, Orihime. You belong to Las Noches."

What am I?

Is her life that much of a questionable value? She has struggled, time and time again, to find the entire purpose of hanging on any longer. It seemed as if everyone she dare grazed became cursed, and the price that she paid to dabble in affection was expensive. It was unreal. She could not flee her emotions. She could not flee Aizen she could not flee the events that lead up to the current hour. She could not flee Orihime, the girl that had trifled, in the beginning, with forces that were far too occult for her tender composure. Maybe it would've been better if her brother had swallowed her.

What am I saying? Maybe it would have? No…Of course it would have…!

The puffy sleeves. The long skirt that was draped nearly to her ankles. She felt like a costumed mockery; it was indeed, a quiet symbolism of Aizen's grip. It was almost as if Aizen had carefully suited her in 

order to smother her identity. Almost as if it was to mock her; he taking more pleasure in the fact that she had no idea what was so amusing. No…that was the case. To smother her identity, and to craft the gentle wave of playful, almost doll-like influence that he had over her. His pleasures were simple; child-like. But then again, a man such as himself, with power and intelligence and influence and talent and frighteningly calm confidence…a man who possessed the grip to be able to get what he wanted with ease...it would not take a lot of material to please such a man, when he nearly owned everything that he'd ever wanted.

But all of this was old, old news…news that had crusted over her heart, and fossilizing to contort the heartbeat.

She placed her hand over her chest.

She wondered…

…could it possibly be an illusion?

For some reason, her heart beat seemed more muffled than ever. Not that it was puzzling of course. It was only a little startling. It was just that her heart had become larger; obese with the spilled blood of her fallen fellows. Oh…how selfishly her heart had drunk their deaths.

An infinite, excruciating, crushing sadness…she was far too sad to fathom its depth. Far too…gone…

Ichigo, Ishida, Chad, Rukia…

They were all gone. She could not decide which was destroying her the most…the truth of their falls…or…the knowledge that it was all her fault. No…it was more than that, she had many, many more bleeding scabs to pick at…

One being, for instance, that she had never told Kurosaki Ichigo that she had loved him.

She wanted to scream, but a great choke in her throat kept her from doing so. Tears wrestled from the ducts in her eyes…her eyes burned...every noise became intensely squelched by the pressure she was exerting over her skull…she had pressed both palms to the side of her head, simultaneously curling up into a quivering white ball. She had to vomit. Her head was going to explode.

VOICES VOICES VOICES ALL SHE COULD HEAR WAS THEIR VOICES AND THEY WERE SMILING AND TELLING HER THAT IT WAS GOING TO BE ALRIGHT AND THEY WERE AT SCHOOL AGAIN AND THEY WERE ALL HAPPY LAUGHING TOGETHER AND SHE WAS NOT ALONE BUT THEIR EYES WERE LOOKING AT HER WITH NAÏVE CONCERN AND THEY DIDN'T UNDERSTAND THEY WOULD NEVER UNDERSTAND WHY IT WAS ALL HER FAULT--

Tears were streaming down her pale, sagging eyes. Exhaustion. Pure, Exhaustion. And she was sobbing, gagging, wailing, trembling, gasping, dying—

"Orihime."



She was gibbering incessantly now, rocking back in forth in her curled position. Aizen raised a brow. So indulged was she in her misery that she hadn't noticed his arrival. It was quite…interesting…

He closed the door behind him politely, standing as a gray silhouette in the shadows. "Orihime." His voice was no more firm than it had been before, but something about it caused her to tantrum to cease. She opened her crinkled, gray eyes. Their gazes met vibrantly, and she stiffened, scrambling upright, her shivering hands clasped in her lap.

"Ai-Ai-zen…sama…" She looked down. Her expression became quite pained. "I'm…sorry, I didn't think I was keeping so much noise." Correction…she hadn't cared. "I won't do it anymore…"

Intriguing. He placed a suave smile on his lips, stepping forward. Orihime did not move. Rather…she seemed to become less static, become less alive than ever. And her pretty pale face became as blank as ever, securing the red emotion that had been there just milliseconds ago.

"So ka." He answered slowly. "It is quite alright."

He advanced upon her until he was directly before her sitting figure. So close was he that his robes pressed against her knees. His shadow, carved by the pungent moon, hung lazily over her bowing head.

Her apathy was passionate. Well played and equally impressive; hours and hours of darkness and self reflection and luxurious worry and fear and guilt could often force one into a pronounced defensive system…or rather, drive them into one hell of a war against insanity. One in which the white flag could not be so easily obtained.

"I would like for you to heal someone for me."

The girl looked startled…and for a second, her brilliant mask was punctured and carelessly swiped by doubt. A millisecond later, her disturbance was wiped clean, and her features were constructed into artfully mastered numbness.

"I will not."

Aizen's features knit together sharply, and she became drenched in fear. His expression was not one of anger, but the reaction was just as startling as it would be if he were to strike her.

"Indeed, you will not." He said gently, his face softening back into its youth. "For the person that I desired for you to heal has passed."

It occurred to her that his face had changed so quickly not because he was angry, but because he sensed the falter of someone's dying reiatsu.

"It would have interested you to know who the person was."

The tension passed her body like a wave; first freezing her legs, traveling her hips, quivering her breast, and finally shook her closed lips into loose, pink hinges.



"Na-nani…? What have you…what have you done?"

"Why, Orihime…do you not think your accusation is unjust? If you'd only agreed quickly enough, said person may still be alive."

"What have you done? Who is it?"

Aizen's smile became silkily pronounced, and something contrastingly wicked flashed in his eyes. "It turns out that Kurosaki Ichigo was unable die at his designated time. I've done nothing. Was it so wrong for me to attempt to save him?"

"Stop it…" Orihime said faintly, her entire body quivering. "You are lying…you are lying…you told me that he was dead…I couldn't feel his reiatsu, so you are lying, you have to be!"

"Oh…?" Aizen's brow piqued. "Which are you truly refusing to believe, Orihime? That I am lying to you, or that you yourself could have saved him on time?"

Aizen watched as Orihime began to breathe in heavy, frightening strains. "Aizen-sama…there is nothing that you can do to hurt me anymore…"

There is nothing that you can do to hurt me anymore…

How wrong you are, onna. How so utterly wrong you are...

What was he doing, but slowly massaging stone into her soul? So deeply that it could not be pricked and pulled by ordinary fingers? The ability for a single being to make change was utterly incredible. A credible value. He was entranced by her humanity…

Yet, he did not lust after her. At least…not yet. It was undeniable that he craved affinities other than tea… However, he wanted her…he wanted to own her emotion, her flesh. He wanted to feel her; he wanted to breathe her without actually doing so. He wanted the blueprint of every single cell of her body and mind to be embedded within the deepening canyon of his intellect. Knowledge. It was as infectious as sex.

"Is that truly what you think…Orihime?" His eyes seemed to brighten, despite their calmness. "You have forgotten to whom you are bound. You have forgotten who you are."

"I—"

Aizen gracefully lengthened his reach so that his fingertips lightly grazed the underside of her chin.

She shivered as if she'd been plunged into ice water. It caused him to feel…something faintly equivalent to desire. That he could illicit such an extreme behavior in the opposite sex was most pleasing. It was a rather innate gift of his. The fright in her eyes, however, dampened it almost immediately.

"Now…" He said expectantly, weightlessly placing his palm over the soft skin of her cheek. "Tell me what I want to hear."



"I…" His eyes strayed from her gray irises, wandering down to the soft rounding of her lips. Funny…he craved another taste. He felt almost deprived of their sweetness. "I belong to you, Aizen-sama…"

Delightful. He smiled soothingly, resisting the barbaric temptation to unsubtly bury his mouth over hers. "…and do you know why?"

Orihime shook with chill. His voice…it was, unusually soft. Frighteningly so. But she did not respond to this. She could not. For at that very moment, Aizen's expression was different. He was like a ghost as he leaned into her. He was kneeling now, and his hands had moved like liquid; so fluent and gentle they were as they felt her body in the dark, seeking her small waist, that she was not startled. His lips did not touch hers…they moved past hers, past her cheek…their cheeks now brushed lightly together, and she felt the flesh of his lips, surprisingly soft yet full, touch her earlobe. He was breathing calmly…and she could smell his warm breath…like tea…and she was feeling heavy, and numb, and disoriented…but she did not move. She refused.

"I will ask you again." He said quietly. If there were other people in the room, only she would have heard. "Do you know why? No…? You belong to me, Inoue Orihime, because I am god…and I enjoy my job…"

"You are an evil man…" She responded heavily, surprised at the weakness of her own voice.

"Incorrect…" He'd moved his lips, they were smoothing against her cheek, drawing ever closer to her mouth. "Good and evil are inexistent. There are only the strong and the weak. There are only servants, and those that are meant to be served."

"You are a monster!" Her voice carried more strength now. It was a bit…arousing…

"No…" He said gently, kissing the corner of her mouth. "I will allow you to see what is monstrous…"

And with that he drew her lips into a sensual dance with his own, and she did not resist…and her warmth was tempestuous. He opened his eyes to see that her cheeks were pleasantly flushed…beautiful…he drew back just to see…just to see…and predictably, he felt her small fingers touch both his cheeks and pull his lips back into her mercy, and she was kissing him now, her sweltering passion thrice that of what he had given her.

He broke the kiss suddenly, ears sharpening at the parting suction of their moist lips.

"What is monstrous…" He said in a continuing fashion, staring calmly into her eyes. But she looked away, blushing deeply and breathing with heated shame. "…is forgetting Kurosaki Ichigo so easily."

She would have slapped him. But he caught her wrist like an opposing magnet and clasped it tightly. "Pity. He will never have had you as I."

A/N:

Aishiteru Aizen: That's it fo' chapter two ya'll. It took me fo'eva to write. In fortunately...I don't have internet right now, so my posts will probably once a week, or once every two weeks, or virtually...when I feel like coming to the library.

Aizen: Interesting. What inspires you to write?

Aishiteru Aizen: Yo momma. Excuse me, asshole, this is my section of the story and you've had your part. So get the hell outta here. I've nearly burned a hole in my brain trying to narrate you. I think I need time alone! Manipulative bastard.

Aizen: Considering the time I've taken out of my schedule as god to visit you, you should be more appreciative, don't you think?

Aishiteru Aizen: Kiss my ass, I just converted to atheist.

Aizen: ...is that so?

Aishiteru Aizen: YAAHH TRIK YAAAH!! I hate that song, by the way.

Aizen: Then why does your penname still say, "I love you Aizen?"

Aishiteru Aizen: Um…Because…

Aizen: ??

Aishiteru Aizen: HAHAHAHA!! Well, whaddya know I just ran out of typing space better wrap it up. READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!! I'm outtie! –disappears in magical poof-

Aizen: Yes. Read and review. You have forgotten who you are. She is the writer, and you are the reader. You will review. There are only three types of people in this world…writers, readers, and lurkers, and you must maintain your station as it befits you. The lurkers usually die in a spasm of flames conjured by the gods of hell because they do not review. If you choose that low, degrading path, it is not of my concern…however, more and more people go to hell everyday because they choose to lurk around stories and not review them--

Aishiteru Aizen: Erm, what the hell…-appears and snatches Aizen out of A/N corner- Sorry about that…R&R!