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A Shadow of What Was	By : katami Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 49594 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Author's Notes: Welcome to the insanity, Fake Memory. I'm glad you've enjoyed things up until now, and just think - this madness isn't over yet and my muse is poking at me to plot a sequel. *grin*

Zenyth Lee, I am not cruel, just wicked. Glad you liked it.

Redbird, never fear, we will be seeing more of everyone - I still have dozens of chapters to write.

Phoenix, we all knew the Kuchiki family needed therapy anyway, I am just helping things along. Besides, you are the one who keeps telling me how much fun Uryuu's blow up is going to be - this leads us to that.

I would once again like to thank all the people reading this story and all those who have taken the time to review. Also, if anyone is going to YCon and wants to hang out feel free to drop me a line, katami_san@yahoo.com

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Blood. He could still see the blood, still feel it on his hands, warm and sticky. Sometimes Gin thought his entire life was spent trying to wash the blood away. And failing, he realized morosely. No matter how much blood he washed away there was always more. Rangiku's, his own, the little mouse girl's - there was always blood. And he always hated it, the feel of it, the smell of it, the taste of it. His whole life had been painted in blood since the night Aizen had found him.

He stood under the nearly scalding spray of the shower and scrubbed until his skin was pink, tensing as Aizen crowded close to him with a chuckled. "Such a fastidious little fox," he purred into Gin's ear, and Gin had the distinct urge to turn and snap at him, something he hadn't done since he was a child - because the last time he had done it Aizen had beaten him so badly that he had nearly lost the sight in his left eye.

"Cleanliness is next to godliness," he quipped, trying to sound cheery, but he knew the words had fallen far flat of their intended mark the second he heard them. He caught a faint frown on Aizen's lips and pulled a wry but tired smile, hoping the other man would chalk his mood up to weariness and his wounds paining him.

Lying to Aizen Sousuke was dangerous business; but over the years he had learned to keep a few secrets of his own.

"You should have left the girl to Tousen if you were that tired," murmured Aizen, a hint of censor in his voice. No mention was made to the fucking the other man had just given him. Tired or not, Ichimaru Gin did not turn down Aizen Sousuke.

Gin shrugged and then winced, not having to feign the expression, the small movement of his shoulder had tugged on his wounds. "Wanted a bit of fun," he said, rinsing the soap from his pale body and turning. Aizen blocked his path and reached for him with a slight frown, Gin easily slipped from his grasp like smoke. Aizen liked to tease him about being a fox, but the other man had clearly forgotten that no one caught him unless he allowed them to. Not these days.

A smile cracked his lips but his eyes grew distant and troubled as Gin quickly toweled off and retreated to his own rooms. He dropped his towel, leaving it where it fell, and pulled on a huge fluffy blue robe that seemed to swallow him. He glanced at his bed. The bed was the one place that was his. It was a more of a nest than a bed - a tangle of sheets and pillows and blankets - but it was his and it was the only way he had ever been able to sleep. Too many years on the streets, he decided. He hadn't slept in a proper bed until he began training for the Thirteen and fifteen years was a lot of conditioning to overcome. And while the simple joy of being warm never left him, Gin realized a tiny part of him longed for the alleys and huddled bodies of his youth. He had never felt as safe or as happy as he had curled up tight with Rangiku or Izuru.

He wanted to rest, but couldn't bring himself to lay down; his body ached but his mind was agitated and restless. He paced the confines of his room, light, quick steps carrying him easily across the distance and back. A frown pulled at his lips and his fists clenched and unclenched as he tried to quiet his racing thoughts.

It had all gone wrong somewhere along the way. All the high ideals had crumbled to be washed away by blood and violence. He had never been much of a philosopher, there was too much of a back alley fox in him for that, but even he could see that Aizen's empire was built on lies. How could they claim the moral high ground over the Seireitei when their own structure not only allowed the stronger to pray upon the weak, but actually condoned it.

The costs were beginning to stack up. And he was beginning to wonder if all the pain was worth the end result. He had given up so much of his soul already and he wasn't sure how much he had left to give. Not when doubt seemed to plague him. It was them - - Rangiku and Izuru. He hadn't thought it would be so hard to leave them behind. But it was there inside him every time he turned around, this great aching chasm that nothing seemed to fill. It had been easier in Soul Society...pretending that he wasn't alone.

Aizen had always kept him apart from the others, and he had never wanted to offer the other man another lever to use against him; but he had at least been able to pretend that he wasn't alone.

At first it had been Urahara who made tentative gestures of friendship. The other man had been an unseated officer in the Twelfth by then, too clever by half and hungry to prove himself. The blonde hadn't forgotten what it had been like to be from the Rukongai though. Urahara had seen him, a young man from even worse straits, clever, and cunning and had tried to help him, tried to take him under his wing. He shivered as memories of Aizen's fury washed over him. He didn't remember much, just pain and blood. So much of both that he had been sure he was dying. He had avoid Urahara's wing after that. Although a tiny part of him wondered what it might have been like to go with the blonde.

Dangerous, he decided. Both of them were lean hungry creatures with too much of the Rukongai clinging to them. It was wrapped in grinning smiles and foolish laughter, but it wasn't hard to see the dark viciousness lurking beneath - not if one knew what to look for.

He sometimes wondered if Aizen realized the danger he courted. The Rukongai bred them hard. It left marks that never dulled on the heart and soul.

It also left them cunning. Hadn't he proved that? He had kept his two most precious treasures out of Aizen's plans for the most part and the other man never even knew.

He could still remember his shock and horror at seeing Matsumoto within the walls of the Seireitei for the first time. She had been two years below him and Gin never knew how she had found him; but he had worked tirelessly to keep her out from under Aizen's eye. It would have been hard to equate the voluptuous beauty with the skinny, dirty girl she had been, but he hadn't wanted to take the risk. He had gone with Aizen to keep her safe; he was not about to undo that by handing her over to the other man.

It had been easy to dismiss his spending time with Rangiku as just wanting to sleep with her. Most of the men who saw her did and Aizen had never been concerned where his affections lay, only where his loyalty did.

Izuru he had fallen across despite his best intensions to the contrary.

He had been a brilliant young officer of the Fifth by then, and Kira a promising young trainee. Gin admitted that he had been lost the first time he had heard that soft, husky voice, so quiet and full of grace. Then he had seen those sad blue eyes and it had been like Rangiku all over again. He had known he would do anything to protect that dear gentle soul just for the chance to bask in his warmth and perhaps glimpse a tiny peak of the world as seen through his eyes.

Just like with Rangiku though, he had been powerless. Aizen had seen the potential in Kira and his friends and had wanted it for his own. Even then the other man had been plotting, planning some way to seize power and bend the world to his will. Gin hadn't much cared, he had seen the segregation and petty bigotry of the Seireitei - through Aizen's eyes and his own. He had also seen that it wasn't insurmountable.

Gin passed by his bed, grabbing a pillow and hurling it angrily at the wall. A mixture of rage and disgust welling up inside him at what he had allowed next. Aizen had claimed both Hisagi Shuuhei and Kira Izuru for the Fifth, trusting Hisagi to Tousen's tutelage and taking Kira for his own until Gin had slid silently and gracefully between Aizen and his target.

The price for getting Kira had been submitting to Kurotshuchi Mayuri's attentions, both in the lab and in bed. The other man had been Urahara's second by then and eager to slip the other man's leash and Aizen had wanted into Urahara's lab. Gin shivered, hating the horrible crawling sensation that always accompanied thoughts of the captain of the Twelfth. Kurotshuchi'd had no more fondness for him than Aizen, the other man had simply wanted to study someone with his condition and Ukitake had glared cold-eyed murder at the other man when it was suggested he submit. Gin privately wished he had done the same. Kurotshuchi was a closet sadist at best and more truthfully a twisted freak.

The other man had been eager to get control of the Twelfth though and had disliked Urahara almost as much as Aizen. It had been no effort to steal a peek into Urahara's lab as Aizen had wanted with Kurotshuchi's aid. Urahara had been less paranoid then; success had helped to temper his lust for power and prestige into something more noble - a general longing for the betterment of Soul Society.

Gin felt his shoulders slump, the past and his crimes suddenly settling around him. It had been him who had first brought word to Aizen about the Hougyoku and Urahara's work on it. He stumbled the few steps to his bed and fell into the nest with a soft grunt of pain, pulling a quilt around himself. He had done it to himself, brought Aizen the knowledge that had ultimately ripped him from the people he cared for most.

For a moment he considered opening a portal and fleeing, abandoning Aizen's madness and returning to throw himself on the mercy of the Seireitei - only he knew exactly what mercy he could expect. None. Only two people in the entire Gotei 13 might not kill him on sight. He was well and truly trapped, he realized with a certain pragmatic fatalism. He would never see Soul Society again unless it was hauled back in chains to await execution and would most likely die in the alien sands of Hueco Mundo - remembered only as a traitor.
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A Shadow of What Was