Romance and Rivalries

Chapter Eleven
By Rob

Byakuya was a busy man.

He was a man with duties, responsibilities and obligations. He was a man with a heavy workload, each day bringing about more papers to sign and more places to visit, people from all over the globe vying for his attention and desperate to meet with the Kuchiki heir in person. He could not afford to waste his time with petty problems or allow himself to become distracted by the smaller things in life, he had to remain focussed and allow nothing to detract from his plans and ambitions, he must always remember his place in society. It would not do to forget his place, to allow himself to lower or degrade his family name by acting inappropriately, for one minor indiscretion or ill-time word would cripple his reputation and ruin his image. It would not do for him to act inappropriately in any manner for the moment he so acted the world would know, and the man that was Kuchiki Byakuya would be forever plagued with scandals and rumours. His career would no doubt be shattered. He would forever be required to rest solely upon his name and inherited wealth, doomed never to have that independence he once held, never to be businessman again.

It was for that reason he despised himself – loathed himself – for waiting so diligently by his phone for his entire evening. It would be a sad, pathetic thing indeed were he to wait in such a manner for a colleague or acquaintance, but to be waiting for the cool of one Zaraki Kenpachi was beyond humiliating, it was devastating . . .

He had wanted at first to return the man’s call himself, but to do so would be inviting a man of low class and social standing into his life, ruining his own status in return by associating with such a creature by choice. He could not allow himself – a Kuchiki – to give into ridiculous emotions, to fall prey to lust or curiosity, and call a rough and gruff man such as Zaraki . . . a man who had such large, muscular arms, a man who always held a faint, musky scent of sweat and perhaps cologne, a man who was powerful and assertive . . . He could not return his call, he simply could not. So where did that leave him? He could not make a phone call but what should he receive one? Why it would be rude to not answer an incoming message, and it was surely not his fault his secretary upon one of the many incoming calls of the evening ‘accidentally’ let slip his personal, mobile number. Of course most professionals never answered a number they didn’t recognise, but would it hurt if Byakuya did? Would it really make much difference if he – for once – gave into his emotions and allowed himself a slither of indulgence? No. He could not. He would simply have to hang up on Zaraki if he should ring, he could not at all answer to that man! Why, Byakuya was not the sort of person who waited for anyone, who was submissive to anyone, and so to be waiting for a call was downright embarrassing, not at all what a man of his standing should be doing. No, he’d merely have to hang up on Zaraki, it was not as if he had any other choice . . . that was should he even ring at all. Perhaps the man had grown bored by now? It was possible.

It seemed however that his ‘waiting’ impatiently would have to come to an abrupt end. The choice had been made for him, tonight he would be forced to lave his phone and take action, albeit it in an unprecedented way. There came upon his phone a text message from a dear friend, leaving him with no other choice than to leave his home at once and ignore any incoming calls for more important matters:

‘Ishida – Kuchiki – Kurosaki – Urahara – sorry for sending one message to all four of you, and sorry I didn’t phone, but we just thought you’d like to know that your kids are out partying and drinking at Ishida-san’s place. Matsumoto’s offended because she weren’t invited and Kyoraku says their taste in booze is terrible, I don’t like the music either, it’s all American! Don’t worry; we’ve got a camera to take pictures of everyone, that’ll be punishment enough for some. See you soon and please bring some good sake! Bye, Bye! Gin x x x P.S The address is:’

It was needless to say that he’d immediately left to retrieve his sister at once. It would not do to have her socialising with baser creatures; they would no doubt influence her for the worst and lead her into a sordid life of degradation and despair. There were very few of Rukia’s friends who came from good, civilised backgrounds or were particularly moral, and as of yet the only two to which Byakuya approved of were Kurosaki Ichigo and Ishida Uryu, the only friends he had expressly forbade her from seeing were – to his memory – Abarai Renji and Madarame Ikkaku. He just knew that Ichigo and Uryu would be responsible, perhaps even absent entirely, but if he saw her even within a foot of those two hooligans that apparently belonged to the Kendo teacher and shopkeeper . . . He could only hope she was responsible enough to stay far away from the alcohol. It would be a nuisance to discipline her; it would be beyond a nuisance to do so if she was inebriated.

Luckily he would not face any humiliation in appearing within the vicinity of the party. It was being held at the Ishida residence that was in an upper-class district of town, quite far from Byakuya’s own manor of course but close enough that he would not have to worry about any gossip for being seen in the area. In fact he could even look upon Ishida-san’s home with a sense of respect and pride, it was a very large building indeed and commanded one’s attention from a great distance, but it seemed to have a certain quiet and quaint humility about it that symbolised the values of those better types of people. The obvious downside being – of course – how it was obviously being used for an underage party . . .

On his way to the back of the property he had so far crossed an unconscious, blue-haired man being loaded into a taxi, two blondes screaming over what seemed to be legal issues and old love affairs, and a strange teenage girl obsessively ringing a phone over and over, proclaiming her love for ‘fertile, bald men’. In the actual garden of the property it was no better at all. There seemed to be a bald-headed man passed out in a fountain, ignoring his ringing phone, whilst Matsumoto-san took several pictures of him, sometimes even included various objects. In one corner two young men – one blonde and one scarred – seemed to be in various states of undress, with Gin himself ogling one of them from a far distance, and as for Shunsui he was apparently – judging by the sound – singing on the top of his lungs an old, love song on the karaoke inside. It truly made him despair . . . What kind of adults were these that could actually join in and participate in a teenage party of deviance and defiance? Wasn’t Gin the one who sent the message to the parents? Did he feel that his job was now done and he was able to enjoy himself? This simply would not do, he would have to find Rukia at once and leave. This was a disgusting, immoral scene, one he could not condone at all.

He quickly entered the building, twisting and turning every other second so as not to allow any ruffians to come into contact with his fine clothing, and in his mind he tried to blot out the frustrating sounds of a heavy bass and dance music; the lyrics positively vile to his mind and nonsensical, whatever a ‘disco stick’ was would be anyone’s guess. The lighting seemed to be chaotic and there was a strong smell of vomit, urine and alcohol about the entire building, underfoot he could hear the crunching sound of objects breaking or crumbs being crushed, and all around him was the sounds of teenagers enjoying themselves. The cheers, screams, laughing and whistles were too much to bear, each youth seeming somewhat more inebriated than the last. The worst of the matter being how Ishida-san was clearly out of town for at least the evening, which left his two friends Kurosaki-san and Urahara-san to throw out the guests, make sure the children got home safely and tidy up for when he returned. If what Gin had said in gossip about Urahara was true, then he could imagine Renji would be the one forced to tidy this mess in punishment, a harsh act but one quite suiting to his crime.

Byakuya found his way into the living room where Urahara seemed busy in the task of ridding the place of alcohol, meanwhile Isshin was ushering out those sober and responsible enough out of the house and property, albeit yelling about ‘how sweet youthful indiscretions could be’. He watched silently as Urahara walked past the karaoke machine carrying a huge bag of booze, stopping only momentarily to unplug the machine and leave Shunsui and two underage girls whining for it to be turned back on, only to be asked politely to leave. It was lucky that Shunsui knew not to push his luck and left right away.

Those who were passed out, throwing up or too drunk to leave were left to stay. Their parents being called for the most part, although in the bald-headed man’s case he seemed to be taken away by an androgynous being of either gender. On the floor, spread-eagled in the middle of the living room was Abarai Renji, passed out and snoring loudly. Towards a distant corner was Ishida Uryu, smirking suspiciously despite how Kurosaki Isshin was in a rare serious mood and lecturing him severely, and on the sofa, fast asleep, was Kurosaki Ichigo . . . with Rukia sitting beside him fanning his face.

She seemed so serene, luckily quite sober although she’d clearly drunk at least a cupful of wine, and wearing a look of annoyance at being forced to look after her intoxicated friend. It showed her considerate and warm nature well that despite everything her first thoughts were Ichigo’s well being, but it would not get her off the hook, because she clearly knew she should not have been in that situation to begin with. She knew well that men like Madarame were the type to spike drinks, she knew that men like Abarai were the type to take advantage of a drunken woman, and she knew that teenagers often carried weapons or attacked even when not provoked. To stay out late, to drink, to socialise with these fools . . . She was not the sister he knew her to be. His disappointment was inexpressible by words alone.

“Rukia.” He said coldly.

At once she jumped and turned around, facing her brother with an expression of shock and horror, completely unaware that he had even been standing behind her. No doubt she was wondering who had told him to come, or perhaps how much he had seen, and come to think of it was her face not looking a little too guilty? It couldn’t be that she had done anything too outrageous; she was not that sort of girl. He could only hope that guilt was from the knowledge she was in the wrong and that she sought to repent, for that would mean she was truly the great Kuchiki woman he knew her to be, and not some disgusting, immature teenager like those around her. Maybe she needed to be private tutored, taken away from these lowlifes; it would not do to have her fall any deeper into this pit of foul immorality.

“Br-Brother!” She gasped, bowing deeply at the sight of him, “I’m so sorry! I just came because my friends were here; I just wanted to spend some time with them. I made sure not to drink and -!”

“You disappoint me, Rukia. You were not raised to be like this.”

“I – I’m sorry, Brother.”

“Indeed you should be, for there can be nothing more disgusting, unpleasant or revolting as to what I have found you doing here today. I cannot believe a young lady would allow herself to succumb to the temptations of drink, what could possibly be worse? You disgust me, Rukia.” He refused to look at her. He could not. “Come, we are leaving.”

He quickly turned his back and looked around the room one last time.

Isshin had apparently gathered the few ‘too-drunk’ kids into the living room, sitting them down in various places as he fetched them all water and paracetoml, and outside the laughter of Matsumoto-san could be heard fading into the distance as she left with her two companions. Urahara on the other hand had rolled Renji onto his front and stood at his head, looking down at him as he obviously tried to work out what to do or what to say next. Both parents were no doubt as furious as he was.

Disgusting. This was the reason he would never be with a man like Zaraki, for who could stand the stench of the lower classes as they gorged themselves to excess on cheap alcohol, committing sins that devils knew not of. It was bad enough those teenagers were ruining their own livers, worse still that they dared to bring down his sister, a woman of fine standing and great upbringing. Did she really wish to associate with this? Was Rukia’s idea of fun fanning a drunken boy on a couch as he groaned with a headache, stuck in a room smelling of vomit as Kyoraku sang crazy songs of love? She had taste, manner, class, poise, elegance, and yet she wasted her time and energy in a place like this, letting her mind rot and her intelligence die on the winds of such vile company. These were the types of people that represented Zaraki’s class; in fact one of these was even his student. It was proof enough that emotions were weak, that he could not debase himself to socialising with riff-raff, it was proof enough that people such as these could do nothing but drag you down to their level. Pathetic.

He looked at Renji lying on the floor, pulling himself up onto his elbows as his face paled and his body swayed like a leaf in the wind. He was gazing down at his father’s bare feet, strapped into old-fashioned clogs, and muttering something like ‘It’s not my fault, dad, blame Jinta and Ichigo and –’ followed by a list of names. The look of Urahara’s face spoke of disinterest and fury, the way his eyes rolled expressing complete annoyance and perhaps indicating he’d heard this same story many times before already, and then - . . . and then Renji’s face flushed red and his head jerked forward, his cheeks puffing as his lips pursed together, an expression of pain and horror coming over his features . . . all before he vomited a gorge of foul-substance onto his father’s bare feet.

Byakuya’s face contorted with disgust.

“When we return home we will have strong words, Rukia,” he said, with a blank expression. “This will not happen again.”

Then with that he left, his sister walking swiftly behind him.

* * *

It used to be a common philosophy of Shinji’s that ‘the feelings of those below must not be considered by the one who stands on top’.

It was a philosophy that Aizen could understand to a degree, for when one stands on top of the world one cannot allow themselves to fall prey to sentimentality, one simply cannot take onboard the opinions of those lower in status or position. To listen to those lower would lead to sympathy, sympathy would lead to doubt and doubt would lead to inaction. To doubt oneself is to question ones motives, ethics and decisions, it means that objectivity gives way unto subjectivity, and it means the majority often suffers because the feelings of the minority must be eased at all costs. To listen to the feelings of those below you is to sympathise with them. It means perhaps giving up on an excellent aim or ambition solely to placate those beneath, for whom – knowing the pain they cause those beneath them – would ever dare to follow an ‘unreasonable’ goal? Indeed nothing would ever be attained, bringing true the statement that those below should not be considered by those above.

Yet that did not mean those feelings should not be understood.

Aizen was a smart man. He knew that a great man, an immortal being, and even the gods themselves all relied on those below them, for they were all born out of a need from the ‘little people’, brought into a position of power because they had a purpose to serve and something to give. He also knew that without followers one did not have power, because one simply could not do everything alone. After all – great as he was – he did not have the medical or scientific knowledge that Szayel did, nor did he have the ability to be in multiple places at once, and so it was safe to say without researchers, lawyers and other employees his company would have failed as a whole. His law firm would not succeed without lawyers, his technological research would fail without skilled hands, and so many other facets of his company would not even exist unless he had the manpower under him to help it.

It was for that reason he learnt to understand the feelings of those beneath him. It was useful for if an employee was discontent they may wish to resign or strike, understanding his feelings helped to prevent this, likewise there were many other scenarios in which considering the feelings of those below worked out for the best. It helped for example to understand Gin’s need for extra money to help pay for the bills his teachers salary could not cover, although with the size of his apartment and virtually non-existent food bill it should have been nearly enough, but still knowing his need enabled him to hire and keep on an excellent motivational speaker. It was also by understanding Tousen’s need for justice he was able to maintain an excellent disciplinary officer and lawyer, playing on the man’s emotions and admirable traits to manipulate him into taking the actions he so wished.

Ah, so what if he brought his men with money, manipulated them with subtle words and vague gestures, did it matter when they were happy and so was he? Aizen never considered their feelings as such, for example if Gin asked for an unreasonable raise he would of course be fired – a perk with having a freelance employee – and should Tousen ever act in a way he disliked he too would be fired. Yet that did not mean he did not understand them, and it was because he understood them that he was able to manipulate them into being the perfect beings, able to keep them by his side and even under him in the case of Tousen . . . A pleasant memory indeed.

That was something Shinji would never understand. His little philosophy was always finished with ‘even if the one on top understands those feelings’, and that was of course Shinji’s downside, for he never did understand those feelings or he just assumed he did and therefore never looked deeper. He was arrogant in himself, believing that he understood it all when he clearly did not, and if he couldn’t understand it he would not even try for it was clearly ‘beneath’ him. He had never learnt to look ‘beneath the underneath’, to find the lie within the lie, to see the reflections of the shadows themselves. Nothing was ever simple, but often there were webs inside the webs, a convoluted mass of strings in which to pull one would knot ten others. Shinji knew to trust no one, but because of that he pushed them away at a distance, almost as if the proverb ‘keep your friends close and enemies closer’ was meant for everyone except Shinji. The blonde was too perfect and intelligent after all to realise that just because he’d noted someone as untrustworthy that it didn’t mean he’d won, in fact it meant the opposite, because by keeping them at arm’s length he never knew who the really were or understood them, and thus he was powerless to stop them from hurting him. Sure he saw the betrayal coming, but what good was that when you refused to understand those beneath you well enough to know what was coming, and without knowing what to look out for how could you stop it?

‘The betrayal you see is trivial, what is truly fearsome is the betrayal you don’t see.’ Those had been the words he had said to Hirako Shinji moments after the trial had ended, and they were as true today as they were so long ago . . .

Shinji never trusted him, which had been an intelligent decision, but because of that he never truly gotten to know Aizen as a person, and as such Aizen’s personality, emotions, motivations and skills had all gone unnoticed. Shinji had assumed he’d see the betrayal coming, but he had not. It had been almost laughable to witness but – as much as he loathed admitting it – it had also been a very pleasurable experience. Shinji may not have sought to know Aizen as a person but his body was a whole other matter. The blond had at the time long, waist-length hair and Aizen could to this day remember feeling it trailing over his chest as Shinji rode him from atop, and he could remember the way that it would tickle his thighs as Shinji threw his head back in climax. He could remember the sultry sound of jazz poisoning his eardrums some nights as, after class over a disliked student’s desk, they would begin their own game of ‘teacher and student’, and he could remember the way Shinji could give oral sex so perfectly it was as if his large mouth was made for it, in fact it made him almost wish they were still an ‘item’ so he could test that new tongue-ring the blond seemed to have received.

Hmm, such memories were pleasant but served as little more than a distraction. Truthfully Aizen considered himself, for the main part, to be asexual. He had experimented in college with one or two lovers, the first with a woman of great beauty and strength and the second of course with Tousen, but neither partner had even came close to having the skills Shinji had. He despised admitting it but he felt little to no arousal for most men or women, but Shinji was different, there was something about the captain that made him interested, and their encounters were always pleasurable. Yet most of all he adored torturing the blond, making him pay for the sins of the world and forcing him to enjoy it in the process . . . Yes, Hirako Shinji was one of a kind, the only person who could make Aizen enjoy the act of sex, and yet here he was ready to sue his ex-lover once again . . .

He had received a somewhat . . . baffling call at around eleven-thirty in the evening from one of his employees, a man named Stark. The gentleman had seemingly contacted Gin who – against better judgement – gave Stark his private number, an act that in itself would require severe words. It seemed that a Sarugaki Hiyori-san had rather ruthlessly attacked Grimmjow, and that he’d been taken to Kurosaki Clinic – the nearest clinic – to be treated. This was followed by some pointless gossip, something about how Grimmjow had been allowed to share Ichigo’s room and the two had ‘certainly kissed and made up, if you catch my drift’, followed by some useful information. Including passers-by there were officially five witnesses to the brutal attack, security cameras from a nearby shop had the attack on film and – to top it all off – Grimmjow had an X-Ray showing a broken left radius and photographs of a severe black eye. It was not a crime he could ignore even if he wished to, and so he was forced to seek damages from Vizard . . . There was an almost sense of shame in taking money twice from Shinji but his sense of guilt was fleeting, for this time the man had brought it on himself for associating with such violent company. So, although not a fun way to spend one’s night, Aizen had spent a considerable few hours doing the paperwork and phone calls to get ready for a lawsuit. He had also called upon his lawyer to check on his health, but judging from the pants he safely deduced his employee was swiftly recovering.

It was indeed far from a typical night. He was actually seconds away from climbing into bed when the phone call came, and so three hours later he was frightfully tired and beginning to look forward to the look on the Vizards’ face when they were taken to court. It would serve them right for disturbing his rare few nights of peace, and with his foul mood tonight he was tempted to sue them for the highest possible amount he could, however it seemed the fates were far from on his side . . . At now half-two in the morning he was torn away from his work by a loud knocking upon his door, one that seemed rather frantic, one that refused to go away unless acknowledged.

Dropping his pen upon his desk Aizen wandered through the halls of his mansion, wondering if he needed to perhaps call security, already mentally firing the incompetent doormen who had clearly allowed this visitor through the locked gates and onto his property . . .

When he finally reached the front door and threw it wide open he was confronted by a rare sight indeed: Hirako Shinji.

It was not at all whom Aizen had expected to see. In fact of all the people Aizen had expected Shinji had not even made the top ten lists . . . He had expected perhaps for it to be Tousen, ready to hash out legal details and debate what course of action to take, or for it to perhaps be Gin, drunk from a night out and looking to crash at his surrogate father-figure’s home. Truth be told he even somewhat expected Urahara to visit on behalf of Vizard, but certainly not Shinji. What was the man thinking? To come alone to Aizen’s private home was the height of stupidity, and having previously taught law to a degree standard Shinji should have been aware that this made accusations of blackmail and bribery all the easier. It was even stranger as officially this legal issue was of no concern to him, this was a matter solely for that Hiyori girl, and so Shinji had no actual reason to be on his property.

The blond looked as handsome as ever. His hair although now chin length suited him well, framing his face in a particularly pleasing manner, his hazel eyes as sharp and discerning as the day they met, and his skin so pink and creamy it made Aizen smile in memory of how it felt under hand. He had abandoned his clueless look and ridiculous facial expressions that so often revealed his upper teeth, instead he wore a look not unlike that of Kuchiki Byakuya, one of condescension and superiority. His nose was high as if smelling a foul smell, his eyes gazing down as if Aizen were beneath him and his overall attitude screaming aloud he’d rather be anywhere else in the world but on the doorstep of Aizen Sosuke.

Aizen smiled at the sight.

His lips pulling into a warm, sincere expression whilst his eyes narrowed considerably, his pupils fixating on the man before him like a predator upon prey, the eerie mixture of kindness and sadism making Aizen seem all the colder, like a devil in a man’s body. There was a sense of pleasure in his features, a pleasure of seeing the business man he once deceived back before him, suffering as his business partner’s career was metaphorically ripped in half by one of his men, there as also a seeming sense of regret, a slight flicker of pain, almost as if his human side had finally shone through.

How was it possible to look pained and pleasured, kind and bad, evil and good? Why did Aizen always have to be a man of contradictions? If Shinji had to guess it was probably to keep people on their toes, always guessing, never knowing. It was hard to hate a man that by day appeared your typical geeky bookworm and by night, even as he betrayed you and destroyed you, did everything with a warm and pleasant smile. It just proved he wasn’t a man to be trusted. He was hiding something, always smiling because he always thought he was so damned clever and had such an upper hand, one day he’d wipe that smile off Aizen’s face, one day he’d make the man suffer the way he made Shinji suffer, the way he was making Hiyori suffer. Yet it was hard to fully hate Aizen, because – let’s face it – without him ruining his career he’d have never found a new one, never been happy working along fellow friends in a job he loved. If anything he probably owed the little freak, but he’d never admit that for as long as he lived. He’d rather die than add another reason for that bastard to gloat.

Aizen pushed a hand back through his brown locks, smoothing them back as his eyes became thinner and perused Shinji’s body like an artist admiring a work of art, and then his smile seemed to shift into one much more dangerous than usual . . .

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Hirako-san.” His voice was calm, cool but with a slight tone to it that denoted humour, almost as if he was openly mocking him whilst hiding behind a mask of false pleasantries, “May I ask what brings you to my humble abode? If it is to hear me call out ‘Sensei!’ once more then I am not adverse to that, although it will not be as much fun now that title has been ripped from you.”

“If ya tryin’ to make me feel bad about losing my job it ain’t working,” Shinji said, trying to sound just as indifferent as he kept most emotion from his voice, letting his eyes gaze off to a random spot in the sky, as if Aizen wasn’t worth even a glance. “The way I see it that court case was a blessin’. Ya got all that cash and I got to be rid of the likes of you.”

“Oh, I’m hurt.”

Like hell he was, nobody who was hurt would declare it in such a high-pitched, whiney voice like a child in a Christmas play, sounding so fake and phoney that it would make most people cringe in disgust.

At the time – way back then – Shinji always knew Aizen to be a sarcastic, facetious, little dick-head but no one ever believed him, it was always ‘oh, he’s always sincere’ or ‘he’s so kind, he always listens to me’. Well, now they believed him! Now they could look at him and see him for what he was, see that he had them all under a spell, see he was deceiving them all in order to steal what he wanted. Too late now though . . . Now his own teaching career was ruined, and Kisuke could never practise medicine again, all because Aizen had charged him with malpractice, all ‘oh, I went to him for help and Shinji bribed him to send me away, and he was so mean, boohoo’. The jury brought it all up, of course they would, anyone who wasn’t aware of Aizen’s slimy side would buy it, but as for Shinji and Kisuke . . . Shinji had joined the Vizard and now had an eighth of the magazine company, and Kisuke was dabbling in back-alley medical care for the dodgy sorts, whilst illegally doing medical research with the sweet shop as a cover. The guy was sly as a fox, he’d never get caught, but Shinji felt rather guilty that because of his own issue with Aizen he’d ruined Kisuke’s career too. Aizen however clearly couldn’t give a rat’s ass . . .

“Oh, Hirako-san,” Aizen continued, “Did you come all this way to my home just to insult me? I am deeply offended. Will I need to add this emotional onslaught onto my already large list of legal complaints?”

“Actually I ain’t here to insult ya. I’m here to talk about that legal suit ya got planned, so why don’t we go inside and talk about it, okay, Sosuke?”

The smile on Aizen’s face grew slightly, pulling in the corner as if to reveal a sudden all-knowing superiority, a kind of ‘I know something you don’t know’ smile. His eyes were almost sultry with how small they’d become and he’d pressed his forearm against the doorframe, so he could lean forward but also hunch slightly, making him at eye-level with Shinji and adding a casual air about him, almost as if nonchalance was a word invented just for him.

“Oh? This is a problem. If I let you in then you make any accusation you so choose against me, but likewise I could say anything in the world about you also. Do you remember how ugly things became the last time it was my word against yours?”

“Yeah, well, last time I wasn’t prepared to bargain with ya . . .”

“Bargaining will not work. You have nothing I want.”

He loved the way Shinji expressed his disbelief. He wasn’t the sort to truly roll his eyes; instead he always seemed to roll them halfway with a slight tilt of his head, then gaze half-heartedly at a fixed point in the sky. He’d never look directly at the person who he was talking to; instead he’d say his words casually to the air itself, almost as if he didn’t care who heard or who didn’t.

It was nice to see that he hadn’t lost his laidback personality, that he could just let things roll off his shoulders like water from a duck’s back. It made things more interesting that way, made the games they could play all the more interesting, and being who they were they both knew never to trust each other, in fact there wasn’t one person in either of their lives they’d fully trust, and because of that there was an edge. It was because of that distrust their minds remained sharp, always looking for the moment the betrayal may come, always in constant competition with the other, always relishing in the adrenaline rush that came with such dangerous antics. The verbal spars and cruel jabs only seemed to heighten their anger, boil their rage and make the tension between them all the more exciting. Aizen adored that tension, always waiting for the moment the quiet would end and the storm would begin, waiting to win a blow against the blond and silently laugh at how the blonde never saw it coming. Gin and Tousen had both referred to it as sexual tension, as did Hiyori on several occasions when he crossed her path, and perhaps they were right, for what was better than the passionate sex that came from two beings who despised one another? Nothing, nothing could be sweeter.

He watched Shinji with a now interested smile, waiting to see how the blond would retort, to see what possible thing he could offer Aizen in order to win his interest. He was far from being an idiot, Shinji would not have came here unless he had something to offer that he felt the Arrancar could possibly want, and so that meant he had something to offer. It may be a mere apology, money or even his body, but he had something and Aizen wanted to know what, he wanted to know if whatever it was had a high enough price to make it worth wrenching from Shinji, because if it didn’t . . . there was always the lawsuit.

“Actually I’m willing to give you whatever ya want,” Shinji reluctantly admitted. “Hiyori’s a good pal to me, I ain’t gonna let you ruin her career like ya did mine and Kisuke’s. So just name your price, alright?” Shinji turned to look at Aizen, and then suddenly a flash came across his face as he gave a rather pathetic smile, showing his upper teeth as he went back to his ‘clueless’ expression. “Oh, and I owe ya an apology from Vizard too, including an out of court settlement I’m willing to pay for myself.”

“Oh? May I ask you why it is you and not Hiyori-chan herself who apologises or pays this settlement?”

Shinji clenched his hands tightly into fists, he was desperately trying not to retaliate or become violent, because the last thing he needed was a repeat of last time . . . He could still remember how he’d lunged at Aizen as his last thread of self-control snapped, and how he’d had to be dragged away by his friend and one of Aizen’s little fuck-toys, a guy who now worked for him at his company, the company founded by Shinji’s money. It made him wonder just how many other employees Aizen had his way with, and if Shinji remembered well he’d asked that moments after attacking Aizen. He’d said something along the lines of ‘Yeah, trust you to get saved by that little whore of yours, better warn him and Gin, they get too involved with you they might get a lawsuit too.’ Apparently insinuating Aizen and Gin were in a sexual relationship hadn’t been the way to go, Aizen had not only decided to press charge for actual bodily harm, but he then had the press write up the whole debacle with the spin ‘Sexual Deviant Attacks Blind Man’ . . .

God, out of everyone in Vizard they sent him to deal with the whole issue. Bastards, they were such idiots, just because he was the ‘unofficial leader’ didn’t mean it was up to him to go save the day all the time, besides didn’t they remember everything that happened? They’d be lucky if he didn’t leave Aizen’s being sued for invading Poland or the bombing of Hiroshima, because – let’s face it – Aizen was the sort to make any charges and the sort who knew how to make them stick too. If he came out and Hiyori ended up in more trouble than before then they couldn’t blame him, they should have expected it.

“Truthfully,” – well truthfully no one else wanted to speak to Aizen, most of them threatening physical violence on the man and one even threatening to throw a tantrum – “Hiyori is sorry for doin’ what she did, but she ain’t got a way with words, plus she ain’t got the money to pay the settlement, also . . . like I said I’m also willing to do whatever it is you want, you think anyone else would be willing to do that? You just sign a paper to say you won’t press charges and I’ll do whatever ya say, if you like I’ll even do it first and ya can sign after. Deal?”

“An apology from Hirako Shinji, an out of court settlement and your promise to be my willing slave? My, this is unexpected. I must wonder if you really think it’s worth it, because who knows what I may ask of you . . .”

“I don’t care. Ask me to clean ya car, fuck ya sideways or even sing the national anthem at Rangiku’s Bar, I’ll do it.” Shinji shrugged, “What do you care? You want to take me up on my offer or not?”

He didn’t want to admit that Hiyori already had a pretty long rap sheet, any more convictions or marks on her name and it’d lead to some pretty big trouble, not only that but one Vizard with a record of sexual harassment and another with grievous bodily harm . . . it could potentially lead to big losses in their company. Personally he’d rather be humiliated for a day and have a career left at the end, rather than try to save face and later lose it all for a second time. After a few moments of silence he looked up to see Aizen with a rare serious face, devoid of a smile . . .

“Please, come on in, Shinji,” Aizen said softly, “and follow me.”

He bit his tongue to hold back any snide remarks and quickly gave a short nod, showing his acknowledgment, before walking through the door that Aizen held graciously open for him.

The way Aizen stepped to one side with an innocent smile, the way his body language was slightly hunched over, the way he held onto the side of the door in a feminine or motherly way . . . It was like looking at the Aizen that they all used to ‘know’, the one that had won all their trust and the one who’d been so overtly kind to everyone. The sudden change in demeanour seemed almost mocking to Shinji, like Aizen was only acting this way to remind him of how he too had been deceived, it just reinforced the idea that here was a manner of many faces, able to look any way and do anything. He couldn’t trust Aizen, but as long as he bore that in mind and looked beneath the underneath then he’d be fine. He just had to be prepared, because it was hard to screw someone over when they saw it coming, and – believe him – he’d definitely learnt his lesson from last time. He knew better than to trust Aizen or to assume he understood the man. This time he wouldn’t allow himself to be screwed over.

He stepped inside and felt a slight brush of air as Aizen closed the door firmly behind them. It was a little disconcerting, making him feel like he was now trapped inside with a man he hated, but if it came down to a fight he was pretty sure he could take the brunet. After all Aizen wasn’t the sort to look too hard at the people he saw as potential victims, meaning he had no idea just what Shinji was actually capable of, he’d always just assumed that what he saw with Shinji was what he got but it wasn’t. Shinji had skills and talents that bastard wasn’t even aware of, and he’d use them if the need came to it, although with all the security cameras and staff this place had he really hoped he wouldn’t need to get physical in any way.

He followed Aizen as he walked tall and confidently through the hall and took a good look at him, the first real look he’d taken since . . . well . . . they were an unofficial ‘couple’. The brunet was currently draped with a black, silk dressing-gown with matching bottoms, his hair was slightly mussed and his face – although of course perfect as ever – seemed to be slightly tired, kind of pulled in places like he really needed a good nights sleep. Granted it was probably about three in the morning, Shinji himself should have been fast asleep if it wasn’t for all the hassle Hiyori had brought along to the party that night, so it was likely that Aizen had been headed for bed or even asleep when he found out about what had happened. The guy probably decided to get right on the case, never missing a chance to screw someone out of money, and had been working ever since on paperwork, phone calls and whatever else. In fact the slight ink stains on his long fingers seemed to indicate someone who’d just been writing, was he really that determined to screw Shinji over once more that he couldn’t wait until morning? Bastard.

Then again what did Shinji care? He knew what Aizen was up to, he always had done, so it was barely a big surprise to see the little jackass playing such games, and as long as Shinji expected it he could counter it. Like he said, he was willing to give Aizen what he wanted, and he had a good idea what that’d be too. The way he saw it he was the one doing the manipulating this time, he was the one doing the using, and so if anything he was the one who should be happy too.

He grinned to himself as he followed Aizen, who was taking many twists and turns, taking a long time to finally find the room he seemed to be looking for. It was the first time ever setting foot in this house, because Lord knew that the little sadist hadn’t been able to afford it on a teaching assistant’s salary and with student debts. It was kind of shocking really, not that he hadn’t expected such a blatant display of wealth and richness, but because he never thought such a huge-ass house could fit inside Japan, and better yet he didn’t think for a moment Aizen would buy a house right opposite Shihoin Yoruichi!

He’d seen the place a few times when he’d been visiting or partying at Yoruichi’s, but not once had anyone ever mentioned it belonging to the guy who’d ruined his career, but then again why would they? Kisuke had been his lover for a long while, a good friend too, and Yoruichi was a pretty empathetic gal, likely was they didn’t want to make him stressed or have him walk over drunk one night to try and stab the guy. It was nice of them, but he’d have rather have found out from them than through Ichimaru Gin the night after Hiyori beat some blue-haired freak half to death. He hated talking to that slimy Gin guy, even now he was wondering why the man had willingly gave him the address and sent him on his way, it made him wonder if there was some plan or if the fox-faced man would later want something in return, it was all so suspicious . . . Then again Aizen really seemed surprised by him turning up, so maybe Gin hadn’t told him . . . Maybe it wasn’t Aizen that people had to watch out for, maybe the really manipulative, dishonest and conniving one was Gin . . . It wouldn’t surprise Shinji if that’s why Aizen kept the guy around so much, too scared to let him go because he knew deep down that the other man was so much smarter than he was, capable of destroying him in a heartbeat the same way he had to Shinji. Aizen was the sort, after all, to keep his friends close and enemies closer.

“I was previously in my office when you knocked,” Aizen said warmly enough, “however I am afraid to say there are confidential papers in there that I do not wish for you to see, mainly perpetrating to the foul deed your cruel colleague has committed to my employee. That is why I wish to take our meeting in my private study instead.”

“Thoughtful, ain’t ya?”

“No, you are the thoughtful one,” Aizen said with a smile, “with that settlement money I am sure Grimmjow will be able to pay off all his university debts and purchase a large apartment in a nice area. It’s such a shame that at the moment he is forced to live apart from his baby sister and cousins, but with your money they can afford to live together and cut costs on childcare.”

Shinji resisted the urge to wipe that smug smirk off from Aizen’s face and instead stormed past him into the study. The room was large enough, quite big in fact compared to what Shinji was used to, but small compared to a rich man’s standards. There was one window in a far corner with heavy drapes blocking out what little street light there was, and coupled with the high ceilings and comfy, traditional furniture it made the room feel enclosed, dark and oddly quite comforting, kind of like being wrapped in a blanket on a cold day. One entire wall was covered with books, all of them fiction novels and some even sappy, teenage romances, a fact that Shinji had to stop from laughing aloud at. What, was Aizen so consumed with work that the law books in his office became simply too much for him, that he was forced to read some sort of romance bordering on hentai love affairs to help himself cope? What a joke.

“If you are smirking at my book collection,” Aizen said calmly, closing and locking the door behind him and hanging the key on a little hook to the side, “I must remind you that Gin is like a son to me, thus he spends a considerable amount of time lurking about my property, despite his protests how bored he is here. Those books you seem to deem inappropriate are some favourites of his, and I must say upon glancing through them that – although they are not rather prestigious – they surely provide a nice escape from reality into fantasy. Do you never feel the need, Shinji, to escape the past, or even the present, for a fleeting moment in the dreamlike nature of books? Gin’s past has been somewhat unpleasant, I cannot fault him for wishing to read books of a more romantic, casual and light-hearted nature.” He came close beside Shinji and pointed to several books to the right on a lower shelf, “You may notice these are in Braille, which I cannot read. You are foolish to make judgements based on circumstantial evidence.”

Shinji clenched his fists and resisted the urge to hurt the other man. How was he expected to know that Gin spent a lot of time here? He barely knew the man, in fact he’d only spoken to him today because he’d needed to get Aizen’s address, and even then he’d had to go through Byakuya to get Gin’s contact information. It was obvious what Aizen would say to something like that though, something like if you didn’t get to know a person – even one you hated – then you’d never truly see their betrayal coming. He’d hate to admit it but the guy was probably right, if Shinji had just taken a moment to get to know Aizen better then he would have seen the court-case coming miles before he actually did. Still, what pissed him off most wasn’t that Aizen had made a point and been right, that he shouldn’t have made a snap judgment or scoffed at another person’s literary preferences . . . it was that Gin and Tousen obviously spent so much time here.

He could understand Gin being here a lot, after all Aizen was like a father-figure to him (apparently, personally he didn’t buy that for a second) and being so broke himself he probably used Aizen’s as a place to study, store things or even borrow things. It was pretty normal to go to your parents when you wanted a place to rest for a while, or even if you needed something because you were broke that week, hell Shinji had even ‘visited’ his mom several times a week just so he could get a free meal out of it. What Shinji didn’t understand was why Tousen was here so much he needed to leave Braille books in Aizen’s personal study. Wasn’t the blind man dating Komamura? Wasn’t he just an employee to Aizen? Oh for -! Why did Shinji even care? He certainly wasn’t jealous after all, because who in their right mind would ever want Aizen for a lover? It was true Shinji couldn’t turn to Kisuke anymore as the man was married, but there were still other guys happy to help him out with his needs, so he had no reason to even think that way about Aizen. No reason at all! No, let those two minions leave whatever they wanted here, Shinji didn’t and wouldn’t care, in fact he’d rather go back to Old Yamamoto’s university and teach there again than to spend one minute in Aizen’s company. He wasn’t jealous, he just wasn’t.

He turned and saw Aizen sitting down casually in a large, leather chair. His legs were crossed at the knee, his elbows resting on each armrest with his hands meeting before his face, touching at the fingertips. He was gazing at Shinji with complete interest, a look that seemed to imply he was analysing the blonde and trying to unravel whatever mystery he held, almost like a man working out a puzzle on a page or an issue in a classroom. The smirk on his face seemed rather sadistic also, kind of like he had plans for Shinji which he probably did in all honesty, but when couple with that expression in his eyes it seemed to suggest he was trying to work something out, kind of like he was trying to envision how Shinji might react or where things might go. It was kind of stupid in his opinion to start thinking about things now, because frankly not only had he taken Shinji up on his offer to do whatever Aizen said, but he’d clearly had something already in mind, obvious by the way he’d locked the door behind them and sat expectantly on his chair.

It was strange really because he personally thought Aizen would be a lot more creative than asking for something as simple as sex, but hey, Aizen was a pretty good lay – his best ever if he had to be honest – and it wasn’t as though Shinji was seeing anyone right now for it to be cheating. It worked out pretty well for him too, he had expected to be humiliated or made to suffer, but an apology, giving out a bit of cash and then a night of awesome sex seemed pretty good to him . . . Yeah, Aizen had to be getting old or lazy as far as ‘punishments’ were concerned, because frankly this was way lame compared some of the things he’d done in the past. Still, Shinji wasn’t going to complain, he hadn’t gotten any for a while and it wasn’t exactly torture to spend a morning with a hot guy, even if you did hate him.

“So,” Aizen said with a smile, moving his hands so as to allow himself to lean upon the right in a casual manner, “you offered me a settlement and to do as I so wish, is that right? Very well, before you leave we shall write out the paperwork and you will write the cheque for the settlement, ready for me to give it to Grimmjow tomorrow afternoon. The writing shall ensure I get the money from you and it shall also ensure that I will not seek further damages from Hiyori-chan.”

“Sounds good t’ me,” Shinji shrugged.

“Now, as for your promise to do whatever I wish . . .”

Great, here it came, an obvious proposition for sex. It’d probably be something straightforward, like just a regular go in bed or something, but knowing Aizen as he did there was always a strong chance for something more kinky or different, but he doubted the brunet would be able to come up with something like that on the spur of the moment. If they were going to use toys they’d have to be prepared, and anything in public needed a damn good escape plan in case things went wrong, especially with them both being in the public eye now. He kind of had to wonder who’d be on top too. Five times out of ten it was always Aizen, but sometimes Shinji would take control, like in that stupid video that Aizen had recorded without him knowing about, not that it hadn’t been good but worth all the money he had to pay? No chance.

“ . . . I believe we can begin with you barking like a dog.”

Shinji jumped out of his distracted train of thought at once. He looked at Aizen with an expression as if to say ‘are you crazy’, although his eyes still seemed pretty heavy and his mouth as taut and serious as ever, but Aizen would no doubt see the shock seeping through regardless. If this was some ‘new’ kind of kinky game it was beyond weird, and so not worth it even if it would get Hiyori off the hook. She totally owed him for whatever was about to come.

“Ya want me t’ what?” He snapped back.

“Bark like a dog,” Aizen replied, his eyes taking on a dangerous glint. “That’s just the start of course but it would be a very good place to start. I know how much you despise bowing down before me, so it shall be a pleasure to see the great Hirako Shinji give into my whimsical desires. I can only hope this experience won’t humiliate you.” He smirked again and leant back in his chair, “My favourite breed has always been a border collie, and so perhaps you could use that as your basis for your bark.”

“Ya got t’ be joking, Aizen . . .”

“Hmm, I think I’d prefer if you called me ‘Master’ for this little exercise.” His eyes took on a darker gleam, “Although perhaps much later, when your humiliation is over, I shall have the pleasure of hearing you utter ‘Sosuke’.”

Shinji fisted his hands and glared at Aizen with as much hatred as he could muster. No wonder he’d locked the door, it wasn’t because he didn’t want anyone ‘walking in’ but so he could he could control the exact level of humiliation dished out! That fact he was implying sex later was probably a lie, he probably wanted to keep Shinji waiting for more – not that he wanted more, Aizen could go fuck himself for all he cared – but then he’d deny Shinji, leaving him frustrated and even more humiliated at the idea there could have been sex. Not that he cared, he was more bothered about what other games Aizen was planning, what would come after he’d successfully barked? Would he expect him to play fetch or maybe just ‘roll over’? That bastard! One of these days Shinji would kill him, he really would, and so why was it he couldn’t help but wonder when he’d be next visiting Yoruichi, wondering if he could get away with a drunken visit over to this damned place? That stupid, goddamned, evil, fu-!

“I’m waiting, pet.”

Shinji growled loudly, he hadn’t meant to but he was just so damned pissed off, hopefully Aizen would just assume it was from his doglike act and not a complete loss of emotion, the last thing he wanted was for Aizen to know that he had the upper hand.

“Yes,” He said, filling his finally word full of hate, “Master.”