Darkest Blue

Chapter 3: Head Like a Hole

"Head like a hole, black as your soul.

I'd rather die, than give you control…

Bow down before the one you serve,

You're going to get what you deserve."

- Nine Inch Nails

White, all white. All he saw and felt and smelt was white, intermingled with pain and blood and fear.

Ichigo groaned, he opened his eyes and Gods, they hurt. In fact, scratch that, everything hurt. Clawing his way into an upright position, he was glad to realise that his black robes had not yet been bleached out with the white. The boy ran his hand through his hair to find it matted with blood and unidentified gunk.

'Gross…' he grimaced, wiping his hand on the pristine bed sheets, relishing the rebelliousness that came with dirtying the white. His moment of revolution was cut short by the realisation that he was sitting on a bed. Not a grubby little bunk in a prison cell as he had expected, but a feather soft, king-size whiteWhiteWHITE bed in a neat and spacious, bedroom. For fucks sake, it even seemed to have its own bathroom. This was far more disturbing than he had EVER imagined his place of captivity to be.

'What the…' Ichigo dropped his head into his hands and remembered. Or tried to at least, his memory ended with Aizen attaching that collar to his neck. His fist clenched tightly at the memory of the overbearing smugness of the man, the audacity of him, to bound Ichigo like some mere pet or, (what was that word he used), plaything.

Bastard, he was an utter bastard. But he didn't compare to the shinigami boy. He was a failure. He was captured and humiliated, his powers and dignity stripped away. But the absolute worst, worse than being beaten down before him, he had failed to save her. Orihime. She didn't deserve any of this; she was too fragile for this place. He knew that he had to save her and yet, he had failed, and only succeeded in landing himself in the same damn situation.

'Fuuck' He exhaled in a whisper as he fended off tears. He knew he was being ridiculous; this sort of attitude wasn't going to help. Wiping the back of his hand along his eyes, he was pleased to see they remained dry. That's better; he thought, can't go to pieces now, not that shameful, not that beaten yet.

As his thoughts wandered in an attempt to escape the impending panic, he himself wandered throughout his 'cell'. When he regained a sane state of mind he found himself staring into a mirror in the aforementioned bathroom. The redhead cursed at his reflection in the mirror; he looked like shit. His scalp had obviously been bleeding quite profusely, his hair was in an even worse state than normal and his right eye was decorated in a beautiful shade of purple. Dried blood laid a trail from his nostrils to his upper lip, and continued onwards, seeping from the corner of his mouth. His bottom lip was cut and swollen, and he could still taste the metallic tang of blood on his tongue.

He splashed cool water over his face, rubbing it into his hair and swirling it in his mouth to work out the blood and mess. He tried to grin into the mirror, but was disgusted by how fake and weak it looked.

Upon his return to the bedroom he noticed a set of clothing (white of course, to match the rest of this fucking place) laid out on the bed. Had they been there before? He supposed he could've overlooked them in amongst all the other lack of colour in this place, but they made him uneasy all the same.

'A gift for you, pet.' There was no mistaking that cold voice as it cut through Ichigo like ice.

'You…' he hissed, fists and teeth clenching simultaneously. Before he could turn to face the man and complete his sentence he was grabbed roughly from behind, his arm was twisted up behind his back at an unnatural angle. He would've cried out it pain if not for the strong hand which was compressed across his mouth.

'Now now, haven't you learned that this attitude will not be tolerated here?' A painful twist of the wrist. A muffled cry. 'You feel that? Any further and it'll break. Now…' He leaned in to almost brush lips against the redhead's ear, 'Are you going to behave?' Ichigo appeared to be taking a moment to consider this, until Aizen's impatience threatened to rip his wrist right off. The boy conceded, slowing nodding his head, eyes tightly shut as if to hide him from the man.

'Good boy.' As the grip around him released, Ichigo's legs betrayed and toppled him over to land unceremoniously on the bed. Towering over him, the brunette smirked and gestured towards the white cloth. 'Put the uniform on.'

Narrowed eyes took in the uniform with an overbearing sense of disgust, they were arrancar outfits, fitted and white, not at all befitting of a shinigami, even one as wretched as he.

'I'm not doing anything you tell me to, not ever.' He spat, ochre eyes blazing. Aizen smirked as he leaned in closer to the boy, gripping his chin and forcing him to look straight into his eyes.

'Such fire in such a young thing as you. You possess so much potential and once I'm though with you, I will turn it to power to serve my cause, and you'll be mine. You shall stand with me as Soul Society is crushed beneath us, and you shall be the one to bring about its destruction.' Ichigo tried to jerk his head away, looking into the man's eyes made him more than uncomfortable, it terrified him. They were deep and dark and endless, and the boy felt that to gaze too long would rob him of his sanity.

'First lesson.' His head was forced back. ' There is no running here, no escaping from what we will do to you. Any orders that you are given you will comply with, regardless of your own will. If you refuse then you shall be forced, it will be painful and unpleasant. The end result will always be the same.' He released the shinigami boy, pushing him back a little upon the bed. Ichigo's gaze fixed on white sheets. 'And so I repeat, put on the uniform. I will not ask you again.'

Every fibre in his body screamed at Ichigo to give in and go along. Instinct understood that Aizen was not bluffing, and self-preservation pleaded to obey. It was only a simple task, not harmful in the least; his own clothes were dirty and tattered anyway… So what if they were 'arrancar' clothes? It wouldn't make him any less human. But pride, Ichigo's pride and honour told him that he could not. Aizen was the enemy. The man that had hurt and kidnapped and tried to kill his friends and his comrades. To lower himself to bow before this man, well it was just too shameful.

He turned his head upwards,

('stand tall Ichigo, stand proud,')

and stared defiantly into the brown abyss,

('don't show any fear when staring an enemy right in the eye,')

as he recalled the few serious words of his stripy hatted teacher,

('the real battle begins before a sword is even unsheathed, don't lose before you've even begun,')

and he was not afraid, he would not let him down,

('neverbackdown, don't avoid pain at the cost of your soul.')

Never.

('Ichigo…')

'No.' he spoke.

'Excuse me?'

'I said no!' Forcefully this time, 'I'm not scared of you.'

Aizen was not surprised; in fact this was just what he was expected. The boy was not going to be broken easily, and submission at this early point would've only disappointed him.

'Very well then, I see you've made your choice.' Before he was even aware of what was happening, Ichigo found himself flat on his back, caught by his wrists above his head, waist straddled by strong thighs. By the time his brain caught up with his situation his body was going into a state of panic. He kicked and thrashed about, but to no avail. A malicious grin stole across the traitor's face.

'It's no use, you see, in this state you're as weak as a kitten.' Ichigo's eyes widened with panic as he felt a hand creep along the side of his waist, heading for the sash that held his obi together.

'What're you doing?' fear began coursing its way through his veins, constricting his throat, freezing his body.

'I warned you, didn't I?' he breathed, blowing warm air against the boy's skin, 'I will not tolerate your behaviour here. This is the way you have chosen to do things…' strong fingers brushed burnished skin as the boy's shinigami robes fell away, exposing him to the cold, lifeless air of the palace, with only his thin boxers to guard his dignity.

Teeth clenched as a mixture of rage and embarrassment painted Ichigo's face in a blush to challenge the brightness of his hair.

'Don't touch me!' the rising panic in his voice was unmistakable, the brunette towering over him could almost taste it on his breath.

'I'm afraid you're not the one giving the orders here.' A smirk as the hand snuck up his neck, cupping his cheek in a mock gesture of compassion as deep brown and ochre eyes clashed. So close, they were so close that the boy could feel every beat of the man's heart, every pump that rushed blood through his veins. The echo of his own; faster paced, betraying the fear that had taken root in his heart, a heart that so nearly stopped when he felt lips brush the delicate skin of his neck.

'No…' voice barely a whisper as teeth scraped skin. 'S-stop!'

'Stop me.' Heady breath ghosted Ichigo's ear, warm and full of dark assurances. 'I don't think you're going to be able to though.' Velvet lips pressed against the skin of his neck. 'I told you didn't I? Here you are mine to do what I please. Behave and you'll be rewarded, keep this up and, well…' a harsh tug of red hair, his voice a cruel whisper, 'Maybe I'll let Grimmjow play with you some more.' There was a sharp intake of breath from the redhead as teeth nipped shut, drawing a tiny bead of blood to break the surface of skin, as a rough tongue parted soft lips to claim its red prize. 'Do you like that pet?'

Ichigo squirmed, 'N-no!' Finding it difficult to speak, he gasped 'Stop! Get away!' But that hand kept creeping, fingers digging in painfully at his shoulder blade.

'Ask me properly pet,' that wicked mouth still haunted his ear, 'and I'll consider it.'

'Ah!' pride wrestled preservation, chaotic emotions making his head spin in an unrelenting cycle until the latter won over. 'Please!' he screwed his eyes shut, hiding this time not from the man before him but from his own weakness.

'What was that?' the sharpness cut through to his ears, the mean hand travelled ever downwards, tracing harsh outlines of muscle over the tanned stomach.

'Please, please stop it.' Words expelled like a poison, seeming to cause the boy physical pain as he spoke them.

The grip on his wrists loosened, releasing his circulation, the blood flowing back into his hands bringing with it a prickling sensation that was not entirely uncomfortable. The wandering hand ceased its downwards expedition, returning instead to stroke Ichigo's cheek in an uncomfortable parody of a lover.

'See, that wasn't so bad now was it?' the hand brushed away imaginary tears. 'Soon you'll be bowing before me of your own violation, but for now,' lips crushed into his in a harsh mockery of a kiss, smothering his mouth and sending his mind reeling upon shockwaves of horror, 'for now, Ichigo, just get dressed.' The weight upon Ichigo left him as the ex-captain arose, leaving him sprawled upon the bed like a used whore.

'F-fuck you, b-bastard.' Numbness spread throughout his body, a self-defence measure to prevent him from realising what had just happened. His lips felt bruised despite the briefness of the contact and his shoulder was scratched red and sore. He shook as he sat up on the bed. His scalp had started bleeding again, the warm red liquid trickling down his face, running into his eyes.

'I'll be back soon enough, see that you are presentable by then. Perhaps I'll even take you to see Miss Orihime to get your wounds healed. Perhaps.' Aizen did not turn around, did not even spare the pitiful boy a glance. He didn't need to look upon him to know exactly the look upon his face, or the pain in his heart. He understood suffering all too well, and he was going to make sure that the boy experienced every bit of it possible before the end.

Before he broke beyond repair.