Yet another Bleach fic, and once again, I was ignoring an impending due date for a report, just listening to a few King Diamond songs when I came up with this. Again, if any character is OOC, I'm sorry.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach; that belongs to Tite Kubo. I also do not own the songs "Pictures in Red", "Give Me Your Soul" or "Phone Call"; all of these songs belong to the artist King Diamond. These songs can be found on the albums "Give Me Your Soul…Please" and "Them", respectively, if you're interested (the songs are of a dark nature though, just a caution).
Give Me Your Soul Please
Yet another nocturnal hour was coming to a close at Las Noches. In the tangible quiet of Aizen Sousuke's chambers, three rogue shinigami captains were at rest for a brief moment. The handsome, but evil brunette commander, Aizen Sousuke, sat and composed a chart of the souls that had to be collected in order to finally make the Ohken. Tousen Kaname quietly sat in deep contemplation, thoughts drifting as serenely as clouds. Ichimaru Gin, fox-like grin ever present on his face, reclined on a small, ornately carved chair, hummed joyfully while perusing, of all things, a music magazine. The silvery haired man suddenly chose that moment to lift his head, slitted eyes and smiling features turned in Aizen's direction.
"Aizen? Do you have a minute?" Gin inquired with a sweet lilt in his voice. Kaname's chin rose slightly, yet the leader of the Espada did not pause in his current occupation. After several minutes came a reply, "What is it, Gin?"
"I think I may have stumbled upon an interesting idea," Rising from his perch and setting down his magazine, Gin sidled over to the former Fifth Division captain, craning his slender neck over Aizen's hunched shoulder. "My, my, we've only managed to capture 23 souls? What a pity," The unnerving grin widened.
Cold brown eyes slowly and menacingly began to study Gin, who stepped back, chuckling. "Perhaps I could make that number increase," the former Third Division captain suggested politely.
"Go on, Gin," Kaname's voice softly prodded. The blind, peace-loving man had an expression of mild interest as he faced Gin.
"Yes, continue," Aizen had now fully pivoted to glare at Gin, features intrigued and impatient at the same time.
"All right then," The smile widened abnormally as slender, pale fingers reached back calmly for the magazine on the chair.
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"Gin, you cannot be serious."
"Come now, Aizen, this is guaranteed to work." Gin's placating tone felt like molten lava to the brunette's ears.
Kaname interjected softly, "These feel rather tight, Gin…"
"They have to be, Kaname, otherwise we lose the full effect," the silver haired shinigami replied.
"Gin…if this fails in any way – " Aizen started coldly, but Gin merely waved a hand in his direction.
"It won't fail at all. As far as I'm concerned, this is foolproof. It will also increase the amount of souls we need fourfold! We'll be able to make an Ohken for every Hollow in Hueco Mundo."
"We only need one for me, Gin, as the one who will sit in the king's place" Aizen returned Gin's smile with a wicked smirk of his own.
"Of course."
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Karakura Town, the next day
After successfully dodging his psychotic father's assault on the stairs and helping Yuzu wash the supper dishes, Kurosaki Ichigo felt an unusual urge: the urge to turn on the television and watch something. This really did not happen too often; Ichigo would have preferred to curl up in his room and read, help Karin practice for her soccer match, or strum his guitar for a few hours.
Shrugging to himself about this peculiar feeling, the orange haired youth settled himself in front of the television set and flicked a switch.
In an instant, his ears started to bleed in reaction to the onslaught of the horrifying screech of blasphemous words that issued from the speakers:
"SPIRITS ARE ALWAYS WITH YAAAAAOUUUUUUUUU!! BOHAHAHAHA!!"
"Gods, no!" Ichigo yelled in alarm, hand flashing out like lightning to change the channel from the gaudily dressed, sinister creature that was Don Kanonji, cackling with his arms crossed atop his chest.
Without warning, fingers inched away from the TV, Ichigo's body froze, as a wave of disquiet washed over his limbs. What is going on?! I can't move! Chestnut brown eyes darted wildly about the room, settling once again on the little screen.
"Tonight, BABIES, we have a special treat!" The famous, flashy medium hollered into a golden, winged microphone, pointing a long, tanned finger at a small, empty stage. Frosty smoke billowed silently, overflowing from the stage onto the dark ground. "Before I, Don Kanonji, deal with the BAD SPIRITS, we will have a concert! A new, MYSTERIOUS rock band shall be performing for us, BOYS AND GIRLS!"
Kanonji did a short, bizarre dance, limber arms and legs flying in unimaginable directions and postures. "OKAY BOYS! START!" he screeched out as the screen faded into abysmal black, mantle fluttering as Kanonji skittered away.
Slim rods of chilled blue light flitted about like shooting stars, swiftly and briefly illuminating the shadows like fireflies. The thin, icy beams at times alighted and lit up three new shapes that had been concealed by the covetous shade; a marble shoulder, a leather-clad thigh, glinting silvery strands of hair. Haunting chords of an electric guitar echoed through the air, accompanied soon after by a breathy male voice. The English words rolled effortlessly and sweetly as liquid from the vocalist's mouth, his appealing shape still shrouded in shadow.
In the hallway
On the floor…
The unseen guitar whined out an ebon, flowing melody as the vocalist inhaled deeply.
I hear voices in the darkness
I'm so tired, I feel dead
The singer paused, his shaded head darting about, as though in awe and wonder, as a forlorn, feminine voice resounded through the area.
"Go to sleep and I
I will tell you
I will tell you
Why I'm here"
The vocalist focused again on the microphone and continued the evocative dialogue.
Am I dreaming or am I still awake?
I see pictures of a little girl
The melody drawled to a close, the lyrical speech ending on a sinister, seductive whisper.
Pictures…in red.
A burst of luminescence erupted across the stage, bathing all of its occupants abruptly in light. Chestnut-hued orbs widened in shock as the figures on the screen came into focus, and recognition, for Ichigo. What the…!
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The glare of lights beat down on a trio of handsome young men; the vocalist, a guitarist and a bassist. The guitarist had a permanent, wide smile etched onto his face, his garnet eyes glinting with mischief. He was dressed all in silver; a short mesh shirt woven of silver threads covered his ebony tank top and just came down to meet his silver and black belt, which held up a pair of snug, platinum leather pants, cuffs gently flaring over silver platforms. His slender, fair fingers remained poised over the strings of a silver-plated guitar, while his silver and black streaked hair stirred gently in the slight breeze combing the stage, a microphone stand before him.
The bassist looked calm yet alert, clad in a tight black vest, an orange sash draped about his shoulders, matching his sunset colored slacks. A dark leather armband embroidered with a golden peace symbol, glittered on his toned bicep. Violet dreadlocks framed his comely, collected features, eyes concealed by a large pair of ornamented, reflective sunglasses. Golden chains gleamed in the bright lines, dangling motionless from his belt loops.
Smoldering chocolate orbs drifted lazily across the sea of cameras as the lead singer smirked wickedly, holding the microphone with both gloved hands while his fellow bandmates started once again to play. His top was covered by an ebony, leather midriff, which was held together in front by elegant white laces; his sculpted abdomen was left exposed beneath it. Far below the hard stomach and fair, angled hipbones rose the glistening PVC pants, barely held up by a simple ivory sash of satin. Snow white jackboots tapped rhythmically in time with the song as the feminine voice, hollow and pleading as always, made its reappearance.
Give me your soul
Give me your soul for the dead
Lazily, the brunette beauty lifted the mike to his lips and began to croon after the ethereal female voice, features twisting ecstatically with wide grins as he paced the stage like a hungry tiger.
I think I know that little girl
I wonder where I've seen her before
In the cellar down below
I see the little girl playing with a boy
They're having fun
In comes Daddy
He's in a rage
Screaming and yelling
He's not very nice
Cold as ice
An axe in his hand
Oh no! No!
Looks like he's going insane
The vocalist howled passionately, using his slender, covered digits to make small square frames in midair, emphasizing his words.
Pictures in red, pictures in red
The axe is coming down
Into his head
Pictures in red, pictures in red
Whoa, the little boy is dead!
The singer screamed out the final word into the microphone as the silver guitarist smirked broadly, continuing the melody. Smiling, the microphone dangling from one lengthy arm, the vocalist continued his tour of the stage area, giving a short spin as he sauntered.
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The trilling sound of the ringing phone snapped Ichigo out of his stupefied trance. Unable to avert his eyes from the television, he reached out behind him to the small coffee table, lifting the phone to his ear.
"Kurosaki, are you seeing this?"
"Ishida…thank the gods, I thought I was hallucinating!" Breathing a sigh, for once the deputy shinigami was overjoyed to hear the Quincy's cool tones. "What the hell is Aizen doing?!"
"Obviously, it is not something that will prove beneficial," Ishida replied, watching suspiciously as the Espada commander sang to the tunes strummed out by Gin and Kaname. "We must continue with our vigil. Perhaps their motives will become clearer." A slender finger slid up slipping lenses as Ishida kept the telephone beside his ear.
"What the hell did you just say?!" came the frustrated yell into the receiver.
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Gin pushed his lips gently to the microphone in front of him, taking the place of the feminine voice as his blazing, scarlet eyes snapped open, staring straight at the camera and deep into the viewer's own eyes.
Give me your soul
Give me your soul for the dead
It must be a dream
Must be a dream from below
Sheathing his chocolate orbs, fingers wrapped in a black leather glove traced a trail from Aizen's slim neck, trickled down the soft, snowy laces, flickered across creamy skin and hard abs, past the ivory sash until finally coming to a halt on top of…
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The evening air of Karakura was rent with screams of bloodcurdling horror, issuing from the throats of two teenaged high school boys in different homes, one with hair the color of the sunset and known for a constant scowl, and one with hair the color of the nocturnal ocean and bespectacled eyes of indigo.
"HE DID NOT JUST DO THAT!!" Knuckles turning white from lack of blood, Ichigo hollered at the listener at the other end of the line, trembling like never before at what had just occurred onscreen.
"KUROSAKI, IT'S WORSE THAN WE THOUGHT!!" Ishida sounded just as perturbed; Ichigo could feel the Quincy's frightened shudder. "THEY'RE USING…F-f-FANSERVICE!!"
Despite their identical reactions of terror, the song on the television continued to echo mercilessly from the speakers.
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Thirteen judges on a bench
The little boy is screaming
"No, it's a mistake!"
A suicide is what you are
The judges say, "You're going down
You're going down to Hell"
Aizen smirked and pulled down his microphone. His eyelids lowering to half-mast, the brunette's lower lip tucked itself between his teeth as his hips came to life, swaying to and fro hypnotically. In the meantime, Gin had begun his solo, prancing across the stage happily until he stopped before Kaname, grinning with glee. Together, the two renegades of Soul Society launched into a duel of chords, sparkling guitar followed by resonant bass. After several moments, the silvery young man skipped his way back to his designated place, pressing his mouth once again to the mike. Aizen halted in his little dance to raise his microphone once again, ready to sing.
Give me your soul
Give me your soul for the dead
It must be a dream
Must be a dream from below
Give me your soul
Give me your soul for the dead
I think I know that little girl
I wonder where I've seen her before
In the cellar down below
I see the little girl dressed in blood
And the blood is not her own
Once again, the former captain of the Third Division played, his fingers fluttering skillfully across the shimmering silver strings in another solo.
The brunette nodded in Gin's direction, then commenced, fingers coming up to trace four sided frames on the canvas of air.
Looks like he's going insane again
Pictures in red, pictures in red
Daddy's hands are squeezing her neck
Pictures in red
Little girl is dead
Abruptly placing two fingers to his temple, pristine teeth beaming wolfishly as the vocalist's eyes pierced Ichigo.
But Daddy's got a hole in his head
Give me your soul
Give me your soul for the dead
It must be a dream
Must be a dream from below…
Gin continued the haunting call about four times, accompanied by guitar, alongside Aizen's own mellifluous wails.
Without warning, the song ended as Gin triumphantly swung his arm back, finished with his instrument. Features softening slightly into a regular smile, Aizen's hand dropped, the microphone thudding to the floor.
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Wild cheers erupted, making Ichigo shout and jump up in shock. Behind him, Yuzu and Karin were whooping and yelling with joy. "That was awesome!" Karin grinned, eyes focused solely on the TV. Yuzu also looked pleased and joyful, face slightly flushed with excitement.
In horror, Ichigo gazed from his sisters to the television, then back again. "Oh, no!" Ichigo growled, finally reaching to shut off the dreaded window to unspeakable and bizarre sights, "You should not be watching this! You guys are way too young!"
"Why are you watching it, then?" Karin drawled out, smiling as her brother started to turn red and babble.
Ignoring her two now bickering siblings, Yuzu gazed longingly at the screen, eyes never leaving the bowing brunette singer. "I'd give him my soul if he wanted it," she said softly, cheeks rosy and warm.
Don Kanonji had finally reappeared onscreen, flailing his arms and wailing like a banshee. "INCREDIBLE!! That was just great, BOYS AND GIRLS!" A rather long, tanned finger tapped the screen, "But that's not all! Everyone of our viewers will be getting a special, free copy of the single that you've just heard! Isn't that great, BABIES?! BOHAHAHAHAHA!!" The eccentric medium crossed his arms and let out his signature guffaw.
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Yet another hour was coming to a close in Karakura. In the tangible quiet of the backstage dressing rooms, two rogue shinigami captains were at rest for a brief moment.
"So, now, all we do is wait a few days for those special CDs to do their work," Gin sipped some water, rubbing at his nape with a fleecy towel and grinning like a serial killer.
"For your sake, Gin, I hope this plan works," Kaname said quietly, meticulously setting his bass guitar in its velvety case. "Especially after Aizen barely escaped with his life from all those rabid fans in the hallway just now. He was far from pleased at having been groped by so many girls."
The slit eyes opened in consideration as the eternal creepy smile disappeared. "It took hours to convince him to put away the zanpakuto and stop him from killing them all. They got his shirt, too."
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About three days later…
In the serene, immaculate dimension of the sovereign of Soul Society, a swirling portal of darkness materialized. Emerging before an intricate, high golden throne, three figures stood before the great monarch, all wearing white variations of shinigami uniforms and Arrancar robes. Aizen Sousuke, Ichimaru Gin and Tousen Kaname had arrived, the golden Ohken, the only key to enter the ruler's dimension, held firmly in their leader's hand.
"Hello, King," Aizen smirked evilly, zanpakuto drawn.
END.
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Review if you want to. (scampers off to work on that report)