For You

by Impervious Marr

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Summary: In his line of work, Ichimaru Gin already knew what to expect. It amused him more than terrified him - until the serial killer he's supposed to track down starts leaving him notes everywhere... AU, AizenGin.

Warnings: AizenGin, which is MxM. :3 LOL AIZEN IS STALKER XD Blood everywhere, and it's pretty gruesome, at least the deaths. Meh.

A/N: xD; Lawl, I know I'm supposed to write the other fics! I haven't even started... but it's okay. Seriously. I'm not even gonna look back at this, probably. Enjoy um, some descriptions of strange serial killing styles. Eh. o.o

I hate the story title XD And I can't pretend that it means something significant. (Actually, it does. Eh.) I wanted some strange, one-word title.

Well, lol, truthfully? Just enjoy and burn the chapter. (Or read and review. That'll be nice.)

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Prologue

First Words

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He was on the scene of a young man's apartment.

The girlfriend was long dead and staining the carpet with her blood and blank, serene face.

He took a long, good look at the body in front of him, and hummed noncommittedly, turning away on the heels of his shoes as he checked up the status with his subordinates. He snapped at the nearest - a new girl, he realized - customary smile widening when she jumped. "Anything?"

"S-Sir?" the girl replied, unable to keep her voice steady as she took in a deep breath.

His closed, crescent-shaped eyes slanted to the side. His smile was mocking.

"Any reports, any fingerprints, any leads?"

She took the mock personally and immediately straightened; the antithesis of his relaxed posture.

The uppers frequently assigned him the newbies, and he did his job well in filtering out the ones who weren't cut out for the job. They thought it was effective, while he thought it was downright amusing to victimize them to his blatant sarcasm and undermining words.

This girl here had yet to pass in his eyes.

She was pretty. Shorter than average - having blue-black hair and wide, dark eyes with the defiance of a child who thought she knew everything. He wondered idly if she could stomach the sight of a murder scene - and realized that she kept her eyes carefully averted from the mangled body just paces away from both of them.

His smile never changed as she took out her notebook and leafed through the details.

"Just documentation for now, sir. A few fingerprints were found and being packaged off to the lab as we speak," she said with a bit of apprehension - along with the fear. Her face was impassive. "No signs of forced entry, no signs of struggle."

He grinned wider, amused. Her voice straightened out when she rattled it all off.

Good.

"Don'tcha be carryin' that tone with me, hmm?" he warned her pleasantly, and her shoulders tensed at the threat, as she shrank to herself slightly.

"... O-of course, sir," she replied finally, the defiance gone and replaced with the same meekness in her voice earlier that made him shuffle away with a bit of disappointment. Pity. She has potential, but not by much that separated her from the rest. His taunting smiles and facetious undertones easily intimidated her - but then again, he intimidated almost everyone.

How boring.

He turned back to the body. The case was interesting enough that he didn't complain much when he was assigned to it, even if it was too recent that he hadn't gotten enough sleep yesterday and the day before.

The murders was more of a show than anything else - the lively splatters of blood arranged in a pattern meant to be something akin to a work of art. Two cases so far and they were in separate areas; victims unrelated but dead almost at the same time.

One hour between each.

The killer worked fast and hard.

He has yet to see the other victim.

"But - I couldn't - I don't know, oh god. I can't handle this - she was -"

He grimaced - he hated sad stories. That boyfriend was still crying in the background, unable to do anything other than babble and stare and bawl at the people who were trying to calm him down and ask him questions.

He turned around the body slowly, careful not to step on anything his co-workers would deem as evidence. They tended to get fussy if he stepped on a blood splatter or played with a piece of lint from the floor.

The woman was dark-skinned and she had choppy, blond hair. They weren't sure if the blood around her was her own, though - but it was as if the killer painted the shape of wings onto the floor using the blood as the paint, sprouting out from her shoulders. Her hair was spread out and her hands were clasped near the middle of her chest - some bountiful ones they were, he noted idly, turning to regard the whole scene as a piece of art.

It was beautifully morbid.

She wasn't stripped, no. She had very, very white clothes in an abstract design - with a high collar and her shirt cut to bare a large portion of her breasts - the blood that was supposed to be on her torso non-existant.

But it was gruesome enough. From her mouth came out startling amounts of blood. There was also a cavity that dominated one large part of her lower torso was stark against the smooth skin. It was hollow and the insides were stitched up so that it would look as if she had a natural hole in her body.

Crudely sewn together with painful looking pieces of string. It thrilled him and he couldn't wait for the results back from the path lab.

"S-Sir?"

Spineless Girl was back. He turned from his admiring with only a slight frown to his face, and she shuddered noticably. Either at his expression or at the stench of the blood - he didn't know, but he didn't care.

He didn't like to be interrupted.

"What is it?"

"Er - Kuchiki Byakuya is looking for you, sir."

There was only a moment's pause before the form of a solemn, tall and broad-shouldered man stepped in between them, inclining his head politely at his co-worker. He spared a glance at the girl who backed away hastily and bowed, before skittering off.

"Bya-chan, how nice to see you again!" He teased, sticking to that childish nickname. Byakuya scowled.

"Ichimaru."

Ichimaru Gin clasped his hands at his back and grinned at his long-time acquaintance.

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They chatted about the little things only because it was courtesy to do so. Byakuya was a man who wanted to stick to society norms while Gin liked to play games before getting to the point, so they got along well enough.

"I've yet to see the other one," Byakuya muttered, referring to the other victim, and neither has Gin. He inclined his head as he stared thoughtfully at the body in front of them.

"It's a piece of art."

"You have strange tastes, Ichimaru," he replied calmly, long used to Gin's sick sense of humor. The silver-haired man merely grinned and looked at the details again and again and again, from the profile of the woman to the hair and to the blood everywhere, stark against the white and the white stark against the dark skin of the woman.

He couldn't help staring and he liked being able not to tear his eyes away.

Pretty pretty pretty.

"You can't deny that the man's an artist, yeah?" Gin commented, tearing his eyes away - before looking back inevitably.

"How do you know it's a man?"

"Usually is." Gin stuffed a hand into his pockets and tried to dig out for a gum. His mouth itched for something to chew. Promptly popping it in his mouth, only then he continued. "A missionary? Looks symbolic."

"Hedonistic."

"You always think it's hedonistic if the victim's a chick." Gin shuffled on his shoes as he ignored the glare sent his way, before finally forcing himself to turn on his heels once again and walk towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Byakuya demanded, and Gin grinned.

"Fresh air's good for the body."

As he stepped outside and breathed in the cool, dirty city air, he scoffed at his statement earlier and turned to walk to his car. Maybe a trip back to somewhere with good coffee would do good on his eyes. They didn't know it, but their very own investigator was too close to wanting to fall asleep on the counter back in the apartment's kitchen.

Two days without sleep. He pulled off a week before, but that was when he was still in his rookie days.

"Maybe if I sing along, the tunes so different, and oh so wrong..." he murmured, humming under his breath as he fished out for the keys to his car. The model wasn't anything special and it worked well enough not to die. "Maybe I'll fit in with the rest of you."

The cap beeped as he unlocked it.

"Even if I never liked;"

He looked at the windshield and blinked. A parking ticket?

"The way they treated me, that's not so right -"

No.

An envelope.

With a careful look, he finally shrugged and took it off, ripping the seal abruptly and grinning as he sang the last line.

"... I can't bring myself to say out the truth."

It was a note; written out instead of typed and he didn't recognize the handwriting at first glance. It felt oddly intimate.

Dear Ichimaru Gin.

His blood ran cold as his grin froze on his face.

She's beautiful -

Isn't she?

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End Chapter One.

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A/N: The 'Spineless New Girl' was Rukia, of course. :3 And, the victim is probably obvious.

This is something I just came up with after staring at the 'Crime' genre of the fanfiction filtering tab thingy. :0 XD

Have a nice day everyone! :D