Title: Lily and Thistle

Author: paws_bells

Beta-ed by: MelissaRose85

Characters/Pairing: Sarugaki Hiyori and Hirako Shinji

Type: One-shot Collection (InComplete)

Genre: Romance/Humor

Word Count: 3761

Rating: T (Contains content not suitable for children)

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

Summary: 'Say Please'-verse. The language of flowers. The devoted and passionate Lily. The brave and loyal Thistle. A bouquet of love. One-shot series.

Created on: 22/08/13

Completed on: 24/08/13

Chapter Last Revised on: 05/10/13

Pre-Series Interlude: Fade to Black

It had been a year since they were exiled to the Living Realm, twelve months since they narrowly escaped execution from Soul Society, fifty two weeks since they had been betrayed, and three hundred and sixty five days since they had been turned into the monsters that they had always been trained to kill.

By now, the optimistic hope that their Hollowfied condition could be reversed was quickly waning. Some days they could barely keep their Inner Hollows in check, and it was a constant struggle not to give in to the increasing rage and fury that was just boiling under the thin veneer of their fake skins, tempting them to lose control and just let go and watch the world burn. Urahara was still doing his best to find a way to fix them, racing against the clock as he tried to figure out just why they were all still so unstable despite the Hogyoku already working to completely halt any further Hollow transmutation, but none of them even knew if they could ever be fixed.

And even if they were, what would they do? Where would they go? They were the castaways, abandoned and discarded. They would never be allowed to return to Seireitei.

Now, they were the monsters of the worst kind. The sickening, disgusting kind that hid themselves in the shape of humans, mingling with the Living who remained completely clueless and oblivious to the unhinged, unspeakable terrors that walked amongst them.

Reviled. Hated. Feared.

Nothing would ever be the same again.

No, what had happened to them was not something that could be easily fixed, and they all knew it, deep inside their hearts. They were just prolonging the inevitable by pretending not to see the truth, and really, it was no surprise that after one year of intentional self-deception, most of them were already thoroughly sick of their situation.

Neither here nor there. Unable to move forward, yet also not allowed to turn back. Stuck. Limbo.

It was well past time for them to face stark reality, re-gather the shattered pieces of their lives, and move on.

That was what they should be doing, in theory.

But none of them could quite bring themselves take that excruciating first step, to shed their last fraying ties to the Land of the Dead, and embrace Life instead. Soul Society, Seireitei and the Goteijusantai were what they had always known, and the world of the Living was unexpectedly huge and intimidating, foreign. Even after a year of exile in this alien dimension, there were a lot of things that still stumped and shocked them, and it was completely disorienting, to say the least.

They were all old Souls, used to living long lives that saw little to no changes in their routines, and suddenly having to adapt to the extremely fast pace of humans was…incredibly difficult to take in, to say the least.

It was the dawn of the Meiji Era, and the Industrial Revolution was just beginning, ushering in a new age the likes of which Japan had never seen before. Foreigners from the West were arriving in droves, bringing with them their strange gaijin culture, technology and knowledge. It was complete chaos, and it was the perfect opportunity to integrate themselves into the human society.

Yoruichi had also recently sent word over that the Gotei 13 had already called off the search for them – in the eyes of Seireitei, they had ceased to exist.

Life went on.

Change was inevitable.

One day, Shinji simply walked into the common living area of the small machiya that they were holing up in and affirmed what they all already knew.

"I just spoke 'ta Kisuke; our problem's gonna take a little longer 'ta fix, so we'll all be hangin' 'round here for a while. Sorry."

It was short, sweet and concise, and no one was quite surprised by his verdict, even though hearing the verbal confirmation was upsetting all the same. What really astonished them, however, was Shinji's appearance. The ex-Captain was clad in a simple cotton yukata like what most of them were wearing, but that was not what had dumbfounded them.

Kensei closed his eyes and looked away, immediately recognizing Shinji's deed for what it clearly was, turning his attention to distracting Mashiro who was already wailing to go back to Seireitei.

The others were speechless, and then there was Hiyori, who froze with disbelief at first, before she silently started to shake.

Shinji continued to talk, deliberately disregarding the looks that he was getting from his fellow ex-Shinigami.

"We've been observin' the humans long enough to emulate their customs with reasonable accuracy, so there shouldn't be any problem assimilating into their society-"

"What did ya do, Shinji," Hiyori cut him off abruptly then, hissing softly like an angry rattlesnake. "What the fuckin' hell did ya do."

Shinji ignored the increasingly agitated girl and kept right on speaking.

"Kisuke has some contacts who will help us get settled; I think we should keep our heads down for a while-"

"Damn hage," Hiyori roared then, raw fury percolating her voice as she stood up from the floor where she had been sitting earlier. The others remained silent, and even Mashiro's tantrum stopped abruptly at the dangerous flare of reiatsu that radiated intensely from the small, golden-haired female in their midst. "Your hair. Where's the rest of your goddamn fugly hair."

He had left earlier that morning looking like his usual idiotic self. But now, he had returned to them missing at least two feet of his hair – the same long silken, golden strands that he was so utterly vain about – and he was behaving as if there was nothing out of the ordinary at all. The implication of what he had done was immense. She could not stand it at all. How dare he. How fucking dare he.

Shinji reached up and absently touched the tips of his newly shortened hair. Something in his deceptively calm, neutral eyes darkened, before it slipped away behind a veil of maddening nonchalance. He shrugged casually, but the look on his face was unreadable. "Aa. I decided 'ta cut it. Looks good, doesn't it? I think short hair fits me very well-"

The small pigtailed blonde was right in front of him in an instant, and before he could complete his stupid sentence, she jumped him and nailed him straight across the face with a mean right hook. The force of the blow was powerful enough to check him bodily out of the living area and send him smashing right through the wooden walls of the building with a god awful crash. He landed roughly in the backyard of the house that they were temporarily staying in, but not before completely messing up the decrepit vegetable garden that Hachi and Rose were attempting to cultivate with little success.

It was fall and it was pouring outside; his clothes were immediately soaked by the rain, and he could feel mud seeping into the back of his yukata where he was lying on the ground, just as surely as the side of his cheek was aching sharply from Hiyori's fierce attack. She had probably fractured his cheek with that one single hit since he had not bothered to shield himself from it at all, and even now, he could still sense her raw anger as she swiftly approached him – this was not over yet.

The muted sounds of her zori sandals slapping against the muddy ground stopped abruptly, and her shadow fell over his face as she stood over him. She was the only one who had come out after him; the others were wise enough not to interfere. She was also getting rapidly drenched just like he was, the cold rain seeping into her clothes and turning her flaxen hair into a darker shade of gold. Water ran down her face in swift rivulets, and despite the wet and miserable weather, her ochre eyes burned with ferocity as they met his, and her hands were clenched into little fists by her side.

"Get up," she bit out at last. "Get the hell up right now, ya lousy piece of shit."

He just looked up at her blankly. "You're gonna have 'ta mend that hole in the wall later," he merely remarked all too calmly in return, and her face visibly darkened with rage.

"Cut the crap," she hissed. "The fuck are ya tryin' 'ta pull, huh? Tell me; what the fuck are ya tryin' 'ta pull?!"

Just the sight of him right at the moment pissed her off badly and made her so furious that she could spit nails. His hair had been shortened so drastically that it barely reached his jawline now, and even though mud-streaked and disheveled from his impromptu flight and subsequent roll in the garden, she could easily picture how he had cut it himself - gathered all that long hair of his that he was so proud of and then callously slicing it off at the nape to attain that sort of abrupt, choppy appearance.

There was only one reason why someone as immaculate and fastidious as him would do something so utterly incomprehensible like this. He was a warrior first and foremost - hair had always been a traditional symbol of pride and personal honor.

And for a warrior to ritually cut off that much of his hair—

The realization hurt her, made her feel like she was going to be wholly and utterly sick.

Her shaking knees started to give way, and she slowly and silently sank into a kneeling position beside him in the rain. He stared at her for the longest time. She was no longer paying him any attention, but the look of grief that crossed her face haunted him, and as much as he wanted to close his eyes and look away, he willed himself not to do so. Immense guilt threatened to choke him, just like it had been slowly suffocating him for the past year or so. It had been his responsibility to watch Aizen and keep him in check, and he had failed. If only he had realized what was going on earlier. If only he had not arrogantly underestimated the sheer and utter depth of his traitorous subordinate's daring ambition. If only he had paid more attention.

If only.

It was his fault. His mistake. And now, they were all paying for it.

Today, Kisuke had confirmed for certain the worst case scenario – this was not something that could be fixed instantly. They were looking at decades – centuries, even – before anything could be done to begin to correct this injustice. For his critical oversight, his grave error in judgment, he owed them all an apology, an answer, and even though whatever he could say would never be enough, this was better than nothing.

"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely, quietly, revealing the first real traces of emotion since their encounter.

Hiyori's eyes immediately flashed with anger, and she was on him in the blink of an eye, straddling his chest to hold him down, pulling her clenched hand back sharply and slugging him hard in the face again. He grunted, but put up no defense against her violent rage.

"Shut up," she yelled as she continued to hit him, pummeling him again and again with small fists of fury. "Shut. Up. You have no right 'ta say sorry at all, asshole!"

His utter lack of a response enraged her further, and she hit him even harder, punching his face in again and again like it was going out of fashion, hard enough that the sickening thuds of flesh meeting flesh could be heard above the dull roar of the rain pouring down from the grey skies above. She broke his nose with her wild blows and she also knocked loose a couple of his teeth, and copious amounts of blood welled up from split lips and ruptured blood vessels, the crimson, viscous fluid mixing with the droplets of water falling overhead, smearing across his face and coating on the back of her fists.

But no matter how viciously she attacked him, that empty expression on his face refused to go away, and her heart clenched. It was as if she could feel every single blow that she was raining down on him.

It hurt and she did not know why.

"Why aren't ya defendin' yourself?!" she howled at him, even as she was rapidly losing strength and she just kept on carrying through with the motions. The skin over her knuckles was bruised and split open from hitting him so much, spilling her own blood to mix with his; her crimson stained hands bounced off of his face, and then she was clenching the lapels of his yukata, lifting him up slightly and shaking him futilely, drawing her furious face right up to his. "Defend yourself, bastard! Fight me! Hit me back, damn you!"

But Shinji remained limp and unresisting in her hold, and at last, she just dropped him back onto the mud. And then all the rage was gone, spent, leaving behind nothing but aching emptiness. She was panting hard from her exertions, and she just sat there silently on top of him for the longest time.

"Damn you," she whispered again at last, her tone bitter. "This is all your fault."

That finally drew a response from him. He flinched.

Water dripped onto his face, mingled with his blood. Unlike the chilling cold of rain, this was warm. Tears.

She was hunched over him, her eyes clenched shut, her face red, her expression twisted in agony. Her slight frame shook silently as she cried, and saline flowed down her cheeks to fall on his. She punched him weakly in the shoulder once more, and then she slowly sank down against him, curling into his chest to weep her heart out, her strength utterly spent in her violent emotional outburst.

She mourned their loss; things would never go back to the way they used to be – they had to move on. A part of her grieved for him as well, for the crippling remorse she knew that he felt for having failed them, when he, too, was a victim of this entirely sickening set of circumstances. How dare he just lay the blame at his own feet like that? Who was he to decide that he should take responsibility for what had happened to all of them? She had seen what his guilt had done to him for the last year or so, and his pain was hurting her too.

"S-Shinji, ya dumb shit," she burst out then, furious at him for being such a selfless, self-sacrificing, noble moron. "Stupid, stupid, STUPID! You're the biggest idiot in the world!"

The small blonde was trying so hard not to cry, but the more she thought of how unfair everything was right now, the harder the tears kept flowing. And him, of all people, just basically laying down his pride and honor for all of them—

She could not take it at all – she refused to accept it. His decision made her so angry and upset, and she didn't know what else to do but to whale on him. It wasn't going to make him change his mind, but at least it made her feel a bit better.

"Why did ya have 'ta go and do that?! We've other things 'ta worry 'bout right now and the first thing ya decide 'ta do is 'ta go get a stupid haircut?! Just go 'ta hell, ya bloody asswipe."

He was frankly bewildered by her response. But she was a trembling ball of upset leaning on him right now, and even though he was a complete mess himself, his first instinct was to comfort her. Slowly, hesitantly, he lifted a shaking hand and laid it on her back. She sniffled noisily at his touch.

"Hiyori," he uttered raspily – it hurt to even talk – and he also had to clear his throat because all the blood from his busted nose was flowing backwards and threatening to obstruct his air passage.

"Don't 'Hiyori' me!" she snapped, lifting her head to glare daggers at him, quickly wiping at her watering eyes with the back of her hand as she did so, unmindfully streaking her own cheeks and forehead with their blood. The appeasing sight of his badly bruised and injured face did wonders to soothe her boiling fury, especially since she was the one who had made him bleed and who had put all those wounds on that ugly mug of his in the first place. Hiyori dearly hoped that his entire face swelled up tomorrow and he looked as stupid as he was behaving right now.

"Ya think just cutting yer hair like some overdramatic little princess is enough 'ta atone for this?! Take some damn responsibility! I'm not gonna forgive ya until ya make it all right again, do ya understand, ya damn baldy?" she demanded with utter ferocity. "So stop lookin' like a fuckin' whipped puppy – we ain't dead yet and we haven't lost this fight! You can continue 'ta act like a little bitch all ya want, but I'm not going down like this!"

She was still rambling on angrily, but it finally began to dawn on him what she was saying.

Shinji's previously dull expression slowly sharpened, and he looked at the girl sitting on top of him with wonder.

"You're not angry, brat?" he asked carefully. She gave him an incredulous look and then immediately whacked him upside the head for his stupid question.

"Look at my face, hage Shinji," she scowled. "Do I look 'not angry' 'ta ya?! 'Cause if ya really think so, then somethin's wrong with yer fuckin'eyes! I'm angry! I'm mad as hell! I'm so fuckin' angry-"

"But not at me," he interrupted, still sounding surprised by his own discovery. "You're not angry at me."

Hiyori glared futilely at him. He looked so stumped that it immediately made her feel like hitting him again – because he was so stupid.

"You're a moron," she mumbled at last. "Only a moron would get angry with another moron," she declared decisively, never mind that she had certainly been quite upset earlier when she was beating up on him. "I'm savin' all my anger for that damn Aizen teme. The next time I see that douchebag, I'm gonna deck him so good, he'll be cryin' for his mama for the next one hundred years."

This time, the tone of her voice turned audibly dark with such seething hatred that her reiatsu spiked with incredible amounts of bloodlust. Her catlike eyes darkened dangerously – her Inner Hollow, not entirely subdued yet and therefore never too far beneath the surface, was threatening to emerge and take over at the soonest opportunity provided by her volatile temperament.

Shinji looked at the smaller female sharply. "Hiyori," he spoke her name simply but firmly, quickly snapping her out of it.

The petite blonde shook her head fiercely, struggling to reign in her unstable emotions. "I know," she barked roughly. "Ya don't need 'ta remind me."

She climbed off of the larger male then, clambering unsteadily to her feet. The rain had subsided to a light drizzle by now. She looked down at him irritably. "How long are ya gonna keep lying there like some angst ridden, misguided hero in those stupid novels that Lisa likes 'ta read? Is your head not outta your ass yet? I'll be happy to beat some more sense into ya if I have 'ta," she threatened rather convincingly, which was quite a feat since she looked rather bedraggled and waterlogged at the moment, and appeared about as intimidating as a drowned rat.

He really wasn't in the position to point fingers himself, since he probably looked worse off than her right now – he certainly felt that way. Taking heed of Hiyori's warning tone, Shinji slowly pushed himself upright as well, pinching the bridge of his nose and tilting his head back gingerly in an attempt to stop the insistent blood flow from his nasal passageways. His whole face felt extremely raw and bruised, his jaw was aching like it was dislocated, and he could only imagine what he looked like at the moment, after being subjected to the brat's tender mercies.

"I'm up, I'm up," he muttered, sounding slightly disgruntled. He touched his face gingerly with his fingers and his digits came away completely bloodied. Damn. She had really messed him up. "I can't believe ya really went ahead and hit me so hard."

Hiyori crossed her arms in front of her chest and huffed.

"I can't believe we have such a complete and utter moron for a leader," she retorted back in a significantly unimpressed and uncomplimentary fashion. She jerked her thumb sharply back towards their temporary lodging. "Ya wanna go back and explain your idiocy to them? 'Course they're all still waitin' for ya."

"Now?" he sounded vaguely horrified. "Lookin' like this?"

Yes, the dumbass was definitely back to normal, if he was worrying about stupid shit again.

Hiyori's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Don't push your luck, baldy. I kicked ya all the way out here; I can kick ya all the way back in too."

That got him on his feet quickly enough, and he held his hands out in surrender as he did so.

Shinji looked at the smaller blonde in a sobering manner.

"Is this really alright?"

It was pretty obvious what he was asking about.

Hiyori glowered at him. "Shut up, dumbass. Don't keep using us as an excuse 'ta feel sorry for yourself. I'm gettin' real sick of seein' ya mope around. From now on, yer gonna get smacked real good every time ya start actin' so stupid."

It was her special way of telling him that they were all in this together – and to stop guilt tripping himself before she did it for him in a much more painful manner. It was just like her to be brutal and exacting in her kindness, and maybe that was exactly what he needed.

Shinji reckoned that he was going to require more servings of helpful reminders from her in the future. She was surprisingly merciful in this instance, certainly more so than he deserved. He quickly found himself appreciating her forceful yet stabilizing presence.

"Fair enough," he told her quietly as he followed her back into the house.

"I'll hold ya 'ta it, then."

Omake #1

The next morning, Hiyori scowled at the idiot who had just cornered her in the hallway and tried to make herself look even bigger by puffing herself up slightly.

"What? What do ya want now?" she demanded defensively, eying the damn baldy. It was obvious that Hachi must have had taken pity on him and cast some healing Kido on him, for he no longer looked like he had just been run over by an ox wagon. His face was still a riotous myriad of blues, purples, greens and yellows, but his broken nose had been corrected and he was no longer bleeding all over the place like he had the previous day, and most of the swelling had also subsided. There was nothing that could be done for his hair though – he had trimmed it to be as neat and as straight as his previous style, only it was obviously much shorter now, and just looking at it made Hiyori's agitation stir once again.

He lifted out his hand that he had been hiding in the long, opposing sleeve of his yukata and held it out to her palm up, as if asking for something. "Gimme your hand," he instructed by way of reply, and she looked at him like he was crazy.

"No. What are ya now, a perv?" she muttered even as she deliberately hid her hands behind her back. "Go away. I don't wanna look at yer dumb face."

She made to stalk past him but his hand snapped out at the last moment to catch her arm, long fingers wrapping around her wrist and pulling her to a stop before she could go anywhere. He brought her smaller limb up to his line of sight, and hissing like an offended cat, she tried to pull herself free but to no avail. He was too strong, and no matter how loudly she swore at him, he simply ignored her and turned her arm until he could see the back of her hand.

Her knuckles were bruised and swollen, staring back at him in an angry shade of mottled purple red. The skin over it was split, revealing raw, semi-scabbed flesh, and even as he held her wrist still, her hand was trembling finely from the trauma. His golden eyes immediately flew up to meet her stubborn, defiant ones.

"Why didn't ya go 'ta Hachi 'ta get yourself fixed?" he asked rather seriously. He had no doubt that her other hand was just as bad as the one he was holding right now.

She scowled at him and looked away. "I don't need any fixin'," she insisted obstinately. "Lemme go, damn baldy – ow! Fuck!"

He simply pressed down firmly on one of her sore knuckles to prove her wrong, and then simply watched her as she turned pale and started to swear.

"Did ya break your knuckles?" he asked. "Be honest, Hiyori, or I'll find out myself."

Looking very unhappy, she sullenly shook her head. "No, I didn't."

He continued to look at her very skeptically. She squirmed inwardly under his stare, but she still tried to play it cool. "I don't know. Maybe."

He lifted his brow, and at last, she could not take it anymore. "Alright, yes! Your stupid mug was so hard I broke my hands on it, happy now?!" she snapped and quickly tried to pull her arm back again, but he wasn't letting go. Instead, he just turned around and headed towards the men's quarters where their resident Kido expert was, dragging the protesting girl with him along the way.

"Hage Shinji, what are ya doin'! Release me, bastard!"

"We're gonna get your hands fixed right now, brat," he told her, pulling her into the room where Hachigen and Rose were currently having a discussion with each other. The two men looked up at their entrance.

"Hachi, please take a look at Hiyori's hands. The 'lil idiot broke them yesterday but didn't deem it important 'ta have it healed right away."

Hiyori was immediately incensed. "Don't call me an idiot, ya big idiot!" She was also trying to squirm away from him but was having little progress in that endeavor. "Leggo of me or I'm gonna hit ya, I swear 'ta god!"

He was unfazed by her threats as he hauled her right up to Hachi. "Nice try, but I doubt ya can even hit a fly right now," he retorted in a calm manner that seemed to piss her off even more. "But ya may properly hit me again once ya get your hands fixed."

Hachi exchanged a bewildered glance with Rose, who looked just as perplexed. Here they were watching the odd, squabbling pair going at it again; Shinji – who had received a rather fierce beating from Hiyori yesterday – was now dragging said girl over to mend the wounds that she had apparently accumulated in the process of carrying out the aforementioned beating, while at the same time placating her short temper by promising to let her smack him around again if she submitted herself to healing Kido.

"Isn't this going to be a vicious cycle, though?" Hachi murmured to his companion, looking rather bemused. Rose shrugged slowly, still eyeing the other two blondes with idle interest.

"Perhaps this is the norm for them? They do seem to communicate rather well in this strange manner."

It was no surprise that rumors eventually began to spread around amongst the Vizards regarding Shinji's certain proclivity for…pain. The fact that he never retaliated against Hiyori whenever she beat on him would just further support this hypothesis. By the time Shinji realized what all the other Vizards thought of him – their perverted, closet masochist of a leader – it was already far too late to change their opinion, much to his everlasting chagrin.

Omake #2

Hiyori's eyelid twitched as she stared at Shinji's head. The longer she looked at the dumbass, the more agitated she became, until her reiatsu was stirring with warning and even the man in question was noticing the way she was giving him the evil eye.

"What did I do now?" he asked warily, keeping the small blonde in view at all times in case she suddenly decided to attack him.

"Your hair pisses me off," she snapped irritably then, and he sighed.

"Give it a rest already, will ya?" the ex-Captain replied. "It's been a month – you should have gotten used 'ta it by now."

"I can't help it that your dumb hair pisses me off," the female Vizard muttered uncharitably, much to his increasing exasperation.

"My hair can't be always pissin' ya off," he tried to reason with her. "Ya used 'ta say that I looked ugly with long hair, so this should be an improvement, right?"

"Yeah, ya definitely looked ugly with long hair," she agreed with him. "But now ya also look stupid with short hair. Some improvement. You should just go bald already, hage."

Shinji twitched.

::owari::

Questions That I Would Like To Answer Before You Ask:

Well, this arc is a pretty short one, so we will be going back to the present time in the next chapter. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this all the same.

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I have always wondered why Shinji was so passive whenever Hiyori was beating him up – he certainly wasn't like that at all during the 'Turn Back The Pendulum' arc. Back then, whenever she hit him, he would usually at least retaliate in some way or another. After they were exiled though, he simply became even more accepting of his 'role' as her designated punching bag. Of course, he still snarks back at her and spars with her verbally, but notice how he doesn't really 'fight' back anymore, at least not in the physical sense?

Well, so this is my hypothesis of why that is so. Hiyori smacks him around every time he's being stupid (or when she simply feels like it), and to her, feeling guilty and moping over something that wasn't his fault in the first place definitely counts as 'incredibly, unbelievably stupid.' Shinji lets her because he really needed those reminders to center himself, painful as they were, and then, well, over time, certain feelings started to develop, he grew more affectionate of her – and after that, there was really no more possibility of him bullying her back anymore.

…you can ignore the last part if you want. That's probably just me with my shipping goggles on, haha.

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Also, Shinji's hair. Out of all the Vizards, Shinji's hairstyle was the one that had altered the most drastically. It might simply have been an aesthetic choice on his part, but seeing how much he prized his hair, I have serious doubts on that theory.

So here's my more dramatic take on it. All Shinigami are swordsmen, and traditional Japanese swordsmen, referred to as kenshin, follow Bushido, also known as the Way of the Warrior, the moral code of the Samurai.

For Samurai, their hair (or rather, topknot) is a source of honor and personal pride. To have it forcibly cut off by an enemy is akin to symbolic castration (a very, very disrespectful act), but on the other hand, voluntary removal is considered a renouncement of title, social status, and pride. It's still really shameful, laying out one's own pride like that, but it can also be seen as an act of atonement.

I might have exaggerated it a little, but I do believe that Shinji would feel great responsibility for what had happened to the other Vizards, and this was one way of him showing his remorse for failing to keep Aizen in check.

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And that's all I have for this chapter! Until next time!

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Last but not least, thanks for reading!

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Your reviews fuel my passion for writing. So please leave a comment if you like this fic!

-paws