Prompt: 006. Soft

"Sing me something soft; sad and delicate, or loud and out of key. Sing me anything."

Existentialism on Prom Night- Straylight Run

Soft was not something associated with Shinji. He was not delicate or gentle or even really that graceful. He was not beautiful or elegant or defenseless. He was, really and truthfully, kind of brutal and harsh. His body was always tensed at the shoulders and his expressions were sharp and severe, whether he was laughing or scowling. He was, in a word, discord to the harmony all around him.

But oh, when he sang; that was a different story. Aizen never let on that he heard the other mumbling the lyrics of some stupid song he picked up on his latest trip to the transient world. He never said anything because he knew Shinji would stop as soon as he did and, really, he never wanted him to stop. It was one of the only times he saw anything really good about the other man. He was almost jealous, if he thought about it, because as well-spoken and articulate as he was, Aizen couldn't really sing well. He could carry a melody, perhaps, but there was something missing. Something subtle and suggestive that Shinji somehow possessed.

Something soft and, ultimately, his.


Prompt: 007. Hold

"Hold on, if you feel like letting go; hold on, it gets better than you know."

Hold On by Good Charlotte

Despair. Frustration. Hatred. So many things were coursing through Shinji's veins and the man in front of him was the cause of it all. Aizen Sousuke. Just thinking about the name caused his teeth to grit against each other. He hated this m an. He wanted to destroy this man. But what could he do like this? On the ground, half of his sight obstructed by the monstrous experiment he had become a part of. He was helpless.

For now.

He let Aizen talk, heard his words, but his brain was processing nothing but thoughts of revenge. For himself, for his friends; hell, just because. Because Aizen deserved it. Aizen deserved to die and he deserved to suffer. Shinji would make sure that it happened, even if it seemed like it never would at the present time. So, as he was watching his death near closer and closer and as Aizen bid him farewell to this world, Shinji didn't dwell on anything. His life didn't flash before his eyes and no parting thoughts were sent to anyone.

All he needed to do was hold on.


Prompt: 008. Shackles

"Surrealism is destructive, but it destroys only what it considers to be shackles limiting our vision."

Salvador Dali

Sometimes, Aizen amused himself with reflecting on his old life back in Soul Society. Generally, these times were when he had felt extremely accomplished, and he allowed himself a bit of a joke as a reward for whatever great thing he had done that day, like creating an Arrancar.

Usually he thought about more recent events, like wondering if Ukitake took his words to heart or if Hinamori was still in intensive care for the damage he'd done to her. But every so often, and it couldn't be helped, his mind strayed just a bit further down the path of history and brought him to musings of his old captain. Shinji had always intrigued him, to an extent, and Aizen thought it a shame that he hadn't been able to bring the other man along with him.

Of course, Shinji would never have it, but Aizen really wondered why that was. An offer to live in Hueco Mundo with him was, essentially, an offer to survive. But more than that, and what he had perhaps wanted to offer Shinji more than anything, was freedom. From the restrictions and complications that Soul Society presented him with. Aizen didn't appreciate birds being kept in cages; wild things should be allowed to roam free across their lands and Shinji was most definitely a wild thing just itching to burst free of his confinement. He would have never accepted Aizen's offer to betray Soul Society. Aizen knew that, so he did the next best thing.

Since he could not hand Shinji the key to his shackles, he instead cut them loose.


Prompt: 009. Broken

"The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head. I tried my best to be guarded. I'm an open book instead."

Broken- Lifehouse

Shinji realized it far too late. After the masks had formed over his friends' faces. After Urahara saved them from their certain death. Even after they escaped Soul Society and regained their sanity and gained control of their new power. It wasn't really until Hiyori had demanded, not as seriously as Shinji took it, why he hadn't just killed Aizen when he started getting really suspicious.

That night, Shinji tried to define a point when he could have pinned Aizen as too suspicious to be allowed to roam free. He thought back to the first day he saw the guy; yes, he definitely had his suspicions then. But as far a distance as he kept Aizen at, and as much as he told the creep to his face that he didn't trust him and he was sure he was up to something weird, Shinji began to filter through his memories and reached one, dreadful conclusion that knotted his stomach and made bile rise up into his throat. The more he said he didn't trust Aizen- to himself, to Aizen, to everyone else- the more he began to let his guard down.

Mistrust, as he learned, was not nearly enough.


Prompt: 010. Precious

"Hey, Sousuke! Give it back!" Of all the times for his lieutenant to finally act playful, did it have to be during such an important part of Shinji's day?

"It was only in defense, Captain Hirako," the mild-mannered man insisted, studying the angered man from his position atop the office's roof. "I needed a bargaining tool."

"There's no way it's an equal value!" Shinji shouted up to his subordinate, eyes narrowed. Between his fingers, Aizen's glasses were delicately clutched; Aizen's own digits, in exchange, were holding onto a very well-loved hairbrush.

"I assure you," Aizen spoke with a smile, "that they are equally precious."

"S'that so?" Shinji wondered, looking down to the object in his hand. "In that case, give it back."

A wary look was sent and a moment later, Aizen joined Shinji on the ground, relinquishing his prize. As expected, his hand stayed outstretched, waiting for his glasses to be returned to him. Instead, he was met with the unmistakable sound of crunching glass and stared, wide-eyed as the frames were crumpled in his captain's hand.

"Bullshit," Shinji informed him, disgruntled. "Ya can see perfectly well without those things. My hair'd be a mess if I didn't have this."

With that, Shinji marched back into his office, leaving Aizen to his own devices in ways of mending his 'precious' thing.

I've decided to take a different approach with these prompts, as the typical way, I've realized, is completely overdone and too hideous to continue on for 100 prompts. The rest will definitely reflect the writing style of the last.