Chapter 3

White

Ichigo's eyes flew open, sweat glistening on his brow and hands fisting the sheets roughly as he breathed in several times, attempting to calm himself. The images he'd dreamt of were still imprinted on his retinas, dancing before his eyes in a flurry of colors as he tried to reconnect with reality. He'd half-expected to see the familiar landscape of his room, full of painfully bittersweet memories, but was greeted by neverending white. The ceiling, furniture, door, window frames and carpets were all the purest, untainted white. For a moment, he almost panicked, unsure of his location, wondering if he'd been imprisoned, and then he remembered: he was in Las Noches. With Aizen. He still couldn't believe he'd decided to strike a bargain with the man, but he had to admit the traitor wasn't all that bad once he set aside the whole 'I'm a God and you must bow down to me, for I am holier than thou' attitude, and had revealed a propensity for sarcasm and irony and a standable character. Still, Ichigo was somewhat wary of Aizen: if he'd managed to fool the whole Seireitei, hoodwinking a partially human teenager must be a piece of cake. All of the man's words could be lies for all he knew, and considering the small amount of knowledge he had, they probably were.

But there was that part of him that wanted to trust the traitor, the side of him that wanted to bare all his darkest secrets to the older man or anybody else and be comforted and reassured. After his friends' murders he'd become so wary and untrusting of anyone in general, one time making even Tatsuki cry as he'd refused to tell her what was wrong for days on end before the murder scene was found by the police. He'd isolated himself from everyone, hiding beneath a false front, and was now desperate for somebody to notice and pull him out of his despair.

Turning his mind away from disturbing and melancholy thoughts, he proceeded to don his clothes. Aizen had insisted that he should wear white, like all the others in Las Noches. Surprisingly, the enormous palace hadn't been entirely destroyed by the shinigami, and though the arrancar population was depleted, it wasn't completely annihilated. Some of the Espada were alive as well, like Grimmjow (who had tried to kill Ichigo upon sight), Nel, who had returned to her place as Tercera after training for a while, and Ulquiorra. Ichigo had stared at the pale man in surprise for what had felt like hours before he finally asked him how he was alive, and had been told that the fragments of his destoyed body, after fluctuating about Hueco Mundo for some time, had managed to regroup, making his body and soul whole again. And then the Espada had started rambling on about the physical and technical aspects of the soul and Ichigo had promptly blocked Ulquiorra's voice out, adding a few noncomittal grunts, 'hm's,'yes's and 'sure's here and there while trying to think about the most nonsensical things as the pale man deviated into an animated (for him at least) monologue on the heart and feelings. He'd hastily excused himself shortly after, as it reminded him too much of Orihime, but had been treated civilly from the arrancar during dinner, while Grimmjow seemed to make Ichigo's death his priority. As he couldn't kill him, he resolved to sneer, threaten and insult him repeatedly during the meal, but Ichigo simply ignored him or talked back to the blue-haired hooligan.

Finally knotting his obi, which was red instead of the standard black (something that should have disturbed him more than it did, as it was Aizen's color), he grabbed Zangetsu and walked towards the room the older man had pointed out to him as he told Ichigo to join him for breakfast. He felt uneasy knowing he'd be sharing breakfast with Aizen of all people, who could kill him without even blinking, but was more perplexed about the reason he'd been invited, and he had a somewhat bad feeling in his gut. And usually his gut was right.

XxX

Despite knowing where the breakfast room was, Ichigo couldn't help getting lost in Las Noches' whiteness. The place was slightly overwhelming, with its high-vaulted ceilings and gigantic corridors that seemed to stretch for miles, neverending. He had no idea how much time had passed, the minutes seemed to fade into hours as time dilated, or the exact opposite would happen when seconds turned to a fraction of a heartbeat as time seemed to shorten. Within five minutes of leaving his room (or what seemed like five minutes) he'd lost all sense of time, and when he passed the occasional window the scenery outside didn't help at all, whether it faced the inside or the outside of the dome. He had to try his hardest to not lose his sense of direction as well. Luckily, he'd left about almost an hour earlier, so hopefully he'd be able to meet Aizen in time.

Ichigo turned to the left, and finally spotted the door the man had pointed out to him the night before. As he grasped the handle and opened the door, a rich scent invaded his nostrils: he could discern the sweet fragrance of English tea, the one of some kind of baked goods, some flowery smell and strangely cinnamon and cloves. He opened his eyes and saw a small round table, white of course, with two small teacups set on it with their respective saucers. The room seemed to differ greatly from most of Las Noches' modern architecture: it had a neoclassical style about it. There were several columns, white with black bases, and the floor was a mosaic of the two colors, the smooth tiles creating geometric patterns on the borders and complicated figures of what seemed to be Greek and Ancient Roman divinities in the centre. A large bouquet of many types of flowers sat on a small table to the side, and an elegant black and white trolley was laden with all sorts of pastries, scones, petit fours and a cake, a teapot, milk and cream jugs and a sugarbowl. Aizen was sitting calmly on one of the pure-white rococò style armchairs, sipping tea from his cup, his lips curved in his infamous smirk which was so often set on his features. He put his teacup down on the saucer he was holding and opened his mouth to speak.

"Ah, just in time, Ichigo-kun. I was starting to think you would be tardy.". The man's voice seemed to be smooth as silk as it caressed the air around it, as if complementing the odours wafting from the tea trolley.

"Yeah… I'm not familiar with Las Noches. It's a bit confusing." As Ichigo spoke, the words already seemed pathetic. It was as if his voice couldn't express what was on his mind.

"Have a seat, Ichigo-kun. We have important matters of which we have to discuss of."

Ichigo sat down on the couch opposite Aizen, and as if on cue, an arrancar maid came in through an unnoticeable door, which seemed to meld into the wall. The servant poured him some tea – probably Earl Grey – and after asking demurely how much sugar he'd like, the maid set the teacup and saucer down on a small coffee table between the two men.

The traitor took a sip of his tea, and the arrancar padded away noiselessly to the door, closing it with hardly any sound. Aizen put his teacup once more on the saucer and set the latter on the table.

"As I've told you before leaving Soul Society, my objective is to become Spirit King. Defeating the lesser shinigami will be an easy task, but we'll need to keep most of the captains alive to create the O-ken. Your will have to fight with me as some arrancar set up the equipment for the creation of the key, and before the souls are condensed, we will move to outside the area." Aizen sipped his tea again. "But that is not was concerns me. You will need to train to hone your skills further, as your instruction in the shingami arts is fragmented and incomplete. I'm aware that you've been training for the past months with Urahara Kisuke, but you've been practicing mostly zanjutsu. While we wait for Soul Society to make its move and as we replenish the arrancar army, I will train you in the various shinigami arts, and I'll arrange for some Espada to spar with you occasionally. I will expect serious improvements during the first week of training in all the disciplines I or others will instruct you in."

Ichigo stared at him dumbfounded for an instant, and then exploded, banging his hands on the table and standing up in a bout of dramatics.

"You're insane! You really can't expect me to improve in all the things you'll teach me in a week?"

Aizen's face remained calm, schooled in an expression of amusement as always, not even fazed by the boy's reaction, but his eyes had a malicious glint. "Why, I believe I can, Ichigo-kun. As you achieved Bankai in three days, I cannot see why you shouldn't be able to increase your proficiency in Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Kido, Hoho and some basic strategy notions in a week. Though you haven't practiced some of these arts ever before, I'm sure you'll be able to learn quickly."

That condescending smile again. Ichigo was so mad he'd like to wipe it off Aizen instantly, but instead sat back down and calmed himself.

"Fine."

The immortal's lips turned upwards in a smirk once more.

XxX

Ichigo panted as he skidded across the training grounds. Aizen could almost feel that chest heaving with exertion, could hear the strained breaths emitted by the teen. He twisted his foot slightly to the right and shunpoed towards Ichigo, attacking him from behind. His punch was stopped in mid-air as the boy grabbed his fist and attempted to turn him over, but the traitor shinigami had already moved away to the strawberry's side, managing to land a kick as Ichigo was still frozen in mid-turn. The teen distanced himself, clutching his painful side. Aizen could almost feel the other's muscles contracting and distending beneath his touch as he observed the portion of his bare chest exposed by his gi. He briefly wondered if he'd agreed to help the boy only because of his attraction, but he abandoned his reflections to shunpo once more towards the teen, this time attacking him from the front. Ichigo, not expecting the man's movement, had turned in the opposite direction, but managed to return to face him speedily. He aimed a punch at the traitor's face, who lazily moved his head to right a little, and tried to land a kick on the man, but was outspeeded as Aizen shunpoed away again, though not too far from the exerted teen. The boy moved forward to attack in a flurry of movement, but each strike was blocked except a punch to his ribs, fracturing them. The traitor barely had time to feel the bones breaking before high-speed regeneration kicked in.

At least, Ichigo was improving: his strikes had augmented in strenght and his defence was being perfectioned with each of Aizen's blows. The immortal had always seen great potential in the boy, and was happy to see the teen's progression went according to his plans. And he was never wrong. Well, never except for the small miscalculation with the Hogyoku's self-destruction device, but he'd already 'learned his lesson' and moved on. He'd managed to control the gem of distruction again, and now he fully understood it. He would reach perfection with his greater power, which he'd regained in prison. Despite being aquitted with all the Hogyoku's secrets, Urahara's binding had succeeded in blocking all his attempts of escape. And so, he'd waited for the boy who was, at the moment, giving him a powerful roundhouse kick followed by a shower of punches.

Once again, the brown-haired man avoided them all with small movements of his bust, face, or entire body to the side. While moving, he'd aim various punches or kicks to Ichigo or some minor kido spells, most of which the boy managed to avoid, but he'd occasionally get hit by a few of them. Aizen could see the boy moving as if he was performing a beautiful but deadly dance: he'd dodge left and right, sometimes turning around and shifting his weight while preparing an attack or getting ready to defend himself from an upcoming threat.

And once again, he could see each of the boy's muscles tensing and moving with every shift of his stance, and would mentally follow the sweat droplets' course on the strawberry's skin, wondering what the rest of the boy's body would like. As far as he'd seen, Ichigo wasn't quite as muscled as before, but had more of a lithe look about him. He interrupted his fantasies once more at the sight of one of the many arrancar maids, who'd come to summon them for dinner. The arrancar waited patiently near the training grounds' entrance, unmoving even when sand sprayed on her face.

Having waited enough for Ichigo to notice the maid, he shunpoed behind him to whisper in his ear.

"Ichigo-kun." He saw the vaizard's neck stiffen and break out in gooseskin. "Dinner is served." Shunpoing back in front of the boy, he continued, switching to a normal tone of voice.

"Please go bathe and, at six o'clock, meet me in the Espada's room. We will dine after the meeting. Do you know it's location or would you prefer to be accompanied?"

He kept his tone warm and inviting, trying to convey only pleasantry, but knew the poison would always creep under whatever words he'd utter. He knew Ichigo would feel a subtle threat hiding under the cover of civil conversation, but who wouldn't with Aizen? And most likely he wouldn't be able to identify the danger anyways.

He saw the teen's brow contracting a bit more in thought for a mere instant before he responded.

"No… it'd be ok if someone came to pick me up though…"

"Excellent. I'll see you at dinner after the meeting then, Ichigo-kun."

And with one last sweeping gaze, Aizen turned tail and left.

XxX

Ichigo submerged his head in the bubble filled bath water just enough to keep his nose above the soap suds. It was as if every muscle of his body was loosening and being recreated anew. After the decision of this morning to partake in these training sessions of sorts, which all ended up in sparring except for sometimes strategy, he hadn't had any resting moment, as Aizen had expected him to be attentive and with easy reflexes for the whole day.

But now, soaking in the bathtub, he could finally relax. The large tub was right next to a gigantic window overlooking the white desert. As he couldn't see the rest of Las Noches, his room was probably at one of the extremes of the enourmous palace, or at the very top of it. The thing that had surprised him the most was the silence, eerie and constant, despite the multitude of arrancar inhabiting Las Noches.

Afraid of being late and not wanting to indulge in the thoughts that usually occupied his mind, he rose from the water and stepped out, reaching for the towel (white of course) that was on a small stool next to the bathtub, and then dried himself. He slipped on a pristine uniform an arrancar had left on his bed and, finally slipping his shoes on, exited the bathroom and his annexed bedroom. The corridor was , if possible, quieter than his quarters with the exception of his and the arrancar maid's resounding footsteps. It stretched on for what seemed like miles, and after walking for a while he finally spotted the door he was looking for.

In the meeting room, all the remaining Espada were sitting at the long white table. A new member had joined them: some pink-haired freak with glasses and a slightly insane air about him.

"Welcome, Ichigo-kun. We were about to begin without you. Please sit here." He gestured to the seat on his immediate right and the substitute shinigami plopped down onto the high-backed chair.

"Now that we are all here, let me revise my plans. Firstly, we will need to replenish the arrancar army, and later we will do some shinigamification. I have managed to find the method recreate the previous Espadas while strenghtening them at the same time so they will have greater reiatsu and another energy release, somewhat like Bankai, but it will require some time, two months at the most. I expect all of you to hone your abilities during this period."

Aizen took a sip of his tea, and continued.

"Then, we will invade Soul Society to create the O-ken. I will require your help to distract the Gotei 13 and to force them to activate their Bankai while some other arrancar help me prepare the equipment to create the O-ken. Under any circumstance are you to kill Captains or their lieutenants as they are the primary reiatsu source there. You are allowed to eliminate anybody else you wish."

The pink-haired guy pushed up his glasses, painfully reminding Ichigo of Ishida with the gesture.

"Aizen-sama, I find it hard to obey ot your order."

The traitor shinigami's reiatsu raised to what was obviously untolerable to most of the room's occupants. "Why would that be so, Szayel?"

The pink-haired guy, or Szayel, gulped visibly before answering. " B-because it's dificult to restrain myself while fighting such weaklings, Aizen-sama…". The Espada was about to pass out, but Aizen lowered his reiatsu emission abruptly.

"Very well, Szayel. I think there's nothing else to talk about. Of course, all Espada will be coming into the Spirit King's realm. Now, please follow me.".

Ichigo had always been amazed at how the man talked: he could voice out a request while making it seem like an order, or could threaten someone while speaking in a calm voice, making it appear as idle chat.

The Espada all rose, Grimmjow with a scowl and the rest with looks of plain indifference or disinterest, and followed Aizen to an adjacent room, shrouded in darkness. In the center of it, on what resembled a platform, was a half-formed arrancar, seemingly the first Espada, Stark, at least according to what Ichigo had heard from the captains.

"Have a seat." And with this, Las Noches' overlord jestured again towards a row of white chairs to the side.

Aizen opened his gi, the Hogyoku glinting briefly on the man's flat abdomen before sending out an enormous amount of reiatsu, followed by a blast of blinding light that illuminated the whole room.

XxX

Finally at home. He was a patient man, but waiting in the dank prison in Seiretei for a year had been tiring.

And now, he'd returned to the pure whiteness. The halls that stretched on for miles and the flat white desert that extended for many more, the entire scenery basking under the light of the moon.

Upon returning, he'd ordered a maid to prepare him a pot of his specially blended tea, he'd sat down and enjoyed the drink and the view outside his room, and then read a few books. But then, he'd gotten bored. There were no subordinates to toy with and no Gin to constantly meddle, yet never failing to amuse him in some way. So he decided to honour his dead comrade, even if a traitor, by dedicating himself to his lieutenant's favorite activity: spying the castle's inhabitants in the monitor room.

Most arrancar were rather uninteresting subjects, and the Espada soon bored him. And then, Aizen spotted the monitor to Ichigo's bathroom – with the boy undressing to get into a bubble-filled tub. He'd always found the boy attractive in some way, but his opinion could only be enforced as he observed his naked form, which he'd only fantasised about during training: he was lean and not too bulky, well proportioned and slightly feminine with his lithe body, his ass forming a perfect curve. The boy lowered himself into the bathtub, moaning in delight as the hot water lapped at his skin. For a while, he simply soaked in the porcelain tub and contemplated the stretch of the desert outside the window, but then he grabbed a sponge and began to scrub himself. Though it wasn't intended as sensual, the way in which Ichigo's hands guided the sponge over his skin was positively arousing, and Aizen felt his hakama get a bit too constricting. After washing himself, he returned to observing the scenery outside. After a while, he seemed to remember there was the Espada meeting and their dinner appointment, and got out of the bathtub. Aizen was even more turned on as the strawberry started drying himself and he could see his entire body. The boy's flaccid cock sat nestled in orange curls, and as he bent over he committed to memory every contour of his ass. Ichigo dressed (too quickly for Aizen's liking) and exited his chambers.

Las Noches' overlord really needed a shower before the Espada meeting.