SEND MEĀ šŖ TO STAB MY MUSE.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā this was not what heād expected from a spar.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā eyes of brilliantly lit brown were wide as he stared down at sakanade. they had agreed to bare blades today, edged weapons; no need to worry overmuch, right--? his captain had seemed almost determined to see if his new fukutaichou was indeed as good as the academy had said -- as if heād been as good as heād proven during the purges. still young he was, but heād been able to rise up to the fifth seat, had settled in there, had proven he had skills and capabilities. the third had watched him, the manās jaw a pugnacious thrust every time he regarded the brown-haired man. how he disliked those eyes which had certainly never been polite.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā a holdover, heād heard, from the previous captain. the one whoād been shinjiās superior. a man with eyes that refused to entertain the polite manners of anyone else. it was simply how some people were. there was no indication of him treating anyone else differently, though aizen had certainly noticed that he did seem to derive grim pleasure out of unsettling the younger seated officers. and it seemed to bother the old man that he could not do the same for aizen. oh -- heād always been polite to him, of course -- but it still seemed to perturb him. a man who would linger at doorways and to whom interpersonal communications meant nothing.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā and so he had been elevated, had been in this position for nearly a month now when shinji had suggested a spar.Ā a spar, he said, to get an idea of his new lieutenant, it had read for him. to see just how capableĀ he was. to see if whether or not he would be keeping him. aizen had been surprised to be given the role, had thought that the old man of the third seat would choose to step into the role -- but he was not going to shirk his new duties. he was not going to step away from the prospect of being able to be the right hand to a man he respected. so he had blinked twice at his captain when the suggestion ( far more of a demand than a suggestion with the way he had seen shinjiās mouth shifting downwards at the corners while those eyes narrowed at him -- )
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā he had accepted. of course he had.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā aizen knew well enough that heād caught those eyes for being a capable young man but it had seemed to bother the older man. so he had accepted -- if only because it had meant that maybe he would be able to prove to him that he would be good at this -- be .... capable of being worth the choice. oh -- aizen was not quite an innocent at combat. he had gone on missions, had killed before heād reached the academy, had killed inĀ the academy -- but he knew, too, that his captain was a veteran. he was one of the older shinigami and had been in this role once himself, if not in this same division. aizen was curious. he wanted to know. but he had accepted this demand for a spar. a test. a test of him, wasnāt it--? very well then. his calm efficiency left him aware of that. even as he was aware of a growing distaste for the seireitei that burned in him.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā it should be changed.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā but he had accepted and he and his captain had headed out to the rukongai, to a clearing that one day would become favored by the brunet for different reasons. just a bit over eight kilometers out. that would work well enough in the future.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā the spar started off slow, their blades crossing time and time again, testing one another, moving together, the flowing between captain and subordinate. to see one another in the field of battle was not to know how another moved. aizen did watch his captain with interest, his gaze lingering on the older man -- and he had known that his eyes would ever be able to pick out his captain no matter where he went. and how he knew he wanted to keep close to him. but they were sparring and he was seeing many things. how his captainās style seemed almost lackadaisical, how he seemed to flow easily with sakanade in hand, as if he was not bound by the weight of gravity. he watched him with fascination, yearning, wanting to see more, even as kyoka suigetsuās blade was left crashing against his time and time again.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā aizen was good, though -- he was good at what he did. he wanted to be good, took pride in doing things with efficiency, and how he danced along the earth, but not fast enough. for all of how good aizen was, he lacked the skills and experience that shinji did and the spar seemed to be shifting in pitch and intensity. it seemed to be turning into a fight. at least -- it felt like it was starting to become one. but how he tried to keep up. he tried.Ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā he didnāt see it coming.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā as if his captain had grown bored of it, as if he wanted to see -- whatever he was hunting for -- aizen found kyoka suigetsu suddenly bouncing back into his face, the back of the blade smashing against his glasses, his cheek, his forehead. he felt the blow coming and twisted, but not fast enough to evade it. his body knew he needed to move by sheer reflex, of course it did -- but he knew too that he needed to move. he could feel the intent in his captainās blade, had been feeling it since they began. he knew well enough that he needed to avoid the blade, knew full and well -- yes. he knew that his captain might come at him with intent to harm. aizen had accepted that. but what he did not expect was the pain. not like this. oh, heād been hurt before, for training and battle made that a point. but heād never been stabbed through like this. it was not a novel sensation.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā the noise that sakanade made when it sank through him was quite wet. organic. cutting into a body was not like cutting into wet bamboo in the practice yards at the academy, after all.Ā he knew the sounds that stones could make with skulls, the hard cracks becoming wet thumps. he knew the noise glass made when it sank through a vein, the wet bubbling. he had even used his teeth. slick gurgles of red. but this was a different noise, a stranger noise -- was it because it came from his body? that might have been the reason why. and aizen found his chest heaving at the sudden pain in his side, his stomach. there was a void there, not as many organs to be found, and his eyes lifted to meet the stare that seemed full of shock. ass if shinji hadnāt been expecting to actually land the hit. as if he thought that aizen would have dodged it, parried, anything but what had happened now. the pain was greater than he anticipated and his fingers gripped at shinjiās wrist as he choked the words out.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā ā d-- donāt pull it-- out. b-- bleeding wonāt be so bad if it stays.Ā ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā he thought he heard a i fuckinā know that sousuke!Ā but the jostling of being grabbed at and the dizzying pain left his head swimming and he moaned weakly, fingers still holding to kyoka suigetsuās hilt being moved to resheath her in a scape of metal on wood.Ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā and then he felt those thin arms around him and shunpo, shunpo that was moving them back to the seireitei. it was rather impressive, actually, to see the distance his captain could cover. every second that they paused for shinji to reorient and the jostling of sakanadeās blade through his body earned a hitching whimpering and a noise that mightāve been some attempt to soothe him, to comfort. it sounded like it. was he worrying his captain? he didnāt want to and aizen tried to grasp at a sleeve even as pain throbbed through his head and his stomach. did he have a concussion? he could feel blood running down his face from where pieces of glass from the lens which had shattered had cut into his skin. nothing serious; mostly superficial. yet his head was aching, his vision dizzy. bloodloss, right--? he should have been able to stay awake. why couldnāt he stay awake--? so it was aizen barely noticed them getting to the grounds of the fourth but perhaps a few minutes later. shunpo could cover vast amounts of distance if one was motivated and shinji was capable.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā the last thing he heard was a yelling for a medic.Ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā and then -- blackness.
