Updated prematurely because I felt so bad for making you guys wait.
And once again, kindly pretend this entire chapter is in italics. Thanks.
Enjoy. (don't own)
Part X
'Aizen-sama.' A small voice called from the doorway, forcing the bespectacled man up from his work. 'The crafting of the skin is complete. Number 29 is ready.'
'Thank you, Gin,' Aizen smiled, rising to his feet swiftly. Striding out of the room, he ordered, 'Wait in the Resource Room. You may enter the laboratory later.'
The newly-graduated shinigami tucked his knees under his chin, watching with narrowed, turquoise eyes as the moon crossed the cloudless autumn sky, listening to the steady, ceaseless humming noise from beyond the door.
He knew that what he and Aizen-sama were working on was important. It would revolutionise everything.
He knew it had to be a secret.
But when they were done, all of Soul Society would recognise their efforts. All of Soul Society would regret not joining their side. All of Soul Society would berate themselves for not noticing the experiments they had been conducting.
Maybe, he toyed with the fabric of his hakama, he wanted them to discover it, to stop the plan before they succeeded, before it got out of hand.
A chime echoed hollowly through the modestly furnished room. Quickly sliding off the long wooden bench he had perched on, Ichimaru moved towards the shelf of delicate glass jars. Standing on his tiptoes, he reached for the small tap that protruded from the largest container, carefully measuring out three cups of the fluid.
Teetering unsteadily, the silver-haired boy stumbled into the dimly-lit storage room, taking care to place the three cups at the sink. With what seemed like expertise, he tipped the viscous contents of the cups down the glass apparatus lying in the sink.
Ichimaru had long ago given up watching the liquid make its way through the numerous winding tubes and instead, chose to focus his attention on the other side of the dank room, knowing full well that the apparatus would be clean in less than half an hour.
He crouched down in front of a tank, observing intently the instruments that were connected to the experiment.
The experiment stared back with a pair of large green eyes, causing the young silver-haired child to smile at it. 'You've got the same eye colour as me. Kind of. Aizen-sama said there was something wrong with the pigmentation of all the experiments. That's why your hair is so light. And your skin too…' He continued to ramble, stopping abruptly only when the undernourished, limp body seemed to take on a clammy pallor as a machine on the wall beeped incessantly.
'Aizen-sama!' the boy leapt from his seat just as the door opened. 'Experiment Number 28 has failed. What do I do with it?'
The man smiled coldly. 'Throw it in that river east of North Rukongai District Twenty-seven. I want to see what Soul Society thinks about this. Clean its crate once you're done.'
'Yes sir.' The boy proceeded to haul a large sack from the storage area and, grunting, dragged it noisily behind him as he left the building.
Aizen watched sharply, smiling to himself. 'Stupid little boy. Don't tell me you haven't found out? Haven't you realised? You were created to surpass us all; you are the secret to artificial power. You are the key to my own army, limitless power.' Smirking, he shut the door quietly.
'Do me a good job, Gin. I will find out Urahara's secret.'
'Ah, Aizen-san, what do I owe to this pleasure?' the blond Taichou welcomed the man into his office. 'Oh, please don't touch that, it's a little…unstable, to say the least.'
Aizen smiled placidly, carefully withdrawing his hand, waiting patiently for the superior to take a seat.
Urahara, on the other hand, wandered distractedly around the room while Aizen grew progressively more irate. Popping out from behind a door, he asked, 'tea? Water? Biscuits? Bread? Rice?'
'How about a seat?' the brown-haired man suggested.
'Oh, if you insist,' the eccentric Taichou replied, waving a hand vaguely around the room. 'Pick a spot, I'll find you soon.'
'Urahara-taichou,' Aizen interrupted. 'There is no need for the, uh,' he stumbled, taking the time to wipe his sweaty palms on his hakama.
'Ah, no need for the formalities, Aizen-san,' Urahara chirped happily, placing a cup of bright purple liquid in front of his guest.
Aizen pushed his glasses up. 'Well then, I need to talk to you about Ichimaru Gin.'
'Who?' Urahara seemed genuinely perplexed.
Aizen sighed. 'The new boy in my Division. The one with the pale skin, silver hair and green eyes and happens to be a genius. I'm talking about your creation, Urahara Kisuke, and I want to know how you did it.'
Urahara opened a fan with a flick of his wrist, placing it thoughtfully atop his nose. 'Oh.'
There was a long pause as Aizen gradually grew more fidgety.
'The faux bodies,' he answered simply, beginning to fan himself. 'I've given up on them. There's always something wrong.'
'Wrong?' now he was intrigued. 'Could you give me some examples?'
'Oh, silly little things. Pigmentation errors, problems with the maturity level,' he waved a hand vaguely in Aizen's direction, quickly changing the topic. 'Now, shouldn't you be getting back to your division?'
Reluctantly, Aizen dragged himself to his feet, politely handing back the large untouched cup of purple liquid to Urahara. 'I would like to take up this project of yours, Urahara-taichou.'
'I'm afraid you would have to consolidate your own research, my dear boy,' he flapped his fan in Aizen's direction, chasing him out of the room.
My dear boy? The Twelfth Division really needed someone else in charge, he thought, trying to pull his sandals on with an air of dignity.
That night, Aizen accompanied a candle through the hours, scribbling busily on a piece of paper as he tried to straighten his thoughts out on everything.
Faux bodies. Urahara had never meant for his experiments to be autonomous.
Yet Ichimaru Gin existed, functioning as a soul with augmented powers.
Unless the child was considered as one of the bigger failures of the experiment, Aizen concluded. What could be expected? He grew, he controlled himself, not to mention he sapped others' Reiatsu like a sponge.
Which, considering the purpose of the faux body experiment, was the opposite of everything Urahara had been looking for but exactly what Aizen wanted to get his hands on.
Actually, the lack of pigmentation in the subjects was the least of Aizen's concerns. When he created his own army and destroyed Soul Society, colour didn't quite matter.
He wanted strong soldiers, artificially created subjects whose souls did not fade after a mere few days.
He would get those soldiers, even if it cost him an arm and a leg. After all, they would be doing the fighting.
Aizen adjusted his haori, straightening its creases. 'Gin,' he acknowledged the man standing before him. Too much time had passed since the first experiment, and Aizen had yet to unravel the exceptional case of Ichimaru Gin.
'Aizen-taichou,' the silver-haired man nodded in response.
'I heard you had been promoted to Taichou of the Third Division,' he began. He wasn't going to let Gin know that he had continued the experiments behind his back. Most importantly, he was never going to let him find out about the role he played in the experiments.
'Yes sir,' he nodded once more.
'Despite this, our alliance will not end. Together, we will gather a following and overthrow Soul Society.' He scrutinised the copy of the report he received from the Tenth half a year ago.
'Yes sir.'
'You are dismissed,' Aizen sighed; he pulled himself to his feet for a trip to the Twelfth once more.
Upon arriving at his destination, he was met face-to-face with Akon and a large file. 'Yes?' he deadpanned, 'how may I help you?'
'Could you print me a copy of the Academy's current and past enrolment and their list of upcoming graduates this year?'
'Why would you need the private information of the students?'
'I am in charge of Academy matters, as is the rest of my division. I fail to see how my purposes concern you. Have it sent directly to my office by tonight.'
'Yes sir.'
Being a Taichou felt good but surely, the king of a realm would receive much more than this.
The next day, Aizen found several fat yellow folders lying on his tabletop and found himself feeling immensely pleased. Pouring himself a cup of tea and selecting a wrinkled, aged folder from his drawer, he set to work.
If that neglected report about the boy in Rukongai was not a fluke, then he would be in the Academy by now.
The Academy rarely accepted underage students and Aizen was sure that this exception would be an excellent addition to his army.
As such, the laborious hunt through the documents began, ending late that night with a crisp sheet of paper with a small photo and personal information followed by a brief write-up, pulled from the folder holding all past enrolment slips.
Exceptions: underage student Hitsugaya Toushirou
Height: 133cm
Weight: 28kg
Hometown: West 1
Reiatsu level: 125
Notes: contacted by Zanpakutou; recommended by Tenth Division Fifth Seat Matsumoto Rangiku
Well, that was definitely interesting. A boy genius with pale hair, pale skin and bluish-green eyes. Further rummaging through the folder and his drawer produced another yellowed document.
Exceptions: underage student Ichimaru Gin
Height: 142cm
Weight: 33kg
Hometown: North 64
Reiatsu level: 116
Notes: contacted by Zanpakutou; recommended by Fourth Division Taichou Unohana Retsu
Yet another document made its way out of the folder of potential graduates.
Candidate: Hitsugaya Toushirou
Tentative Division posting: Thirteenth Division
Graduating in: 7 months
Total time to be spent in the Academy: 1 year
Extensive scrutinising then revealed a record in Aizen's old wrinkled folder in the form of previous experiments. A picture of a malnourished child accompanied by the label of Number 29 and a list of failures was, undoubtedly, a more dishevelled version of that Hitsugaya kid.
Success.
Twenty-nine had made it through, living in Rukongai, presumably where Gin had dumped it like many others.
Why hadn't the others made it through? Was it the district? The body? The spirit? A turn of events? Research was in order, eventually weeding yet another document from the folders.
Candidate: Hinamori Momo
Height: 151cm
Weight: 39kg
Hometown: West 1
Reiatsu level: 89
Division posting: Fifth Division
Total time spent in the Academy: 6 years (standard)
Hurriedly, he summoned the girl, hoping the recruit had not yet retired for the day.
A soft knock made itself known at the heavy sliding door of Aizen's office. 'Hinamori Momo reporting as ordered, Aizen-taichou.' The tired voice was soft.
'Come in.' He waited for the inexperienced hands to noisily close the door with a clatter before beginning.
Looking the timid girl straight in her eyes, he asked, 'tell me, Hinamori-san, what do you know of Hitsugaya Toushirou? Apparently he shares your hometown…' He smiled, serving only to further intimidate her.
'Shirou-chan?' the girl with the pigtails took a step backwards before looking downwards. 'Um, he is my brother, Sir.'
Brother? How interesting.
Wide eyes gazed up at him. 'Don't tell me he's in trouble! He – did something happen? How is Granny?'
Aizen lazily took notes. Apparently a troublemaker, the child as well as Hinamori Momo had most likely been raised by an old woman. 'Oh, not really, just that he's been enrolled in the Shinou Academy oddly prematurely. He must be half the height of everyone else there…how did you meet your family?'
'Granny took me in when I first came to Soul Society, Sir. We found Shirou-chan at the local rubbish dump some years ago. He was dying, Sir! Granny said some evil people had thrown him away and,' she paused for a deep breath before continuing, 'and I'm going to become a strong Shinigami so that I can protect him.' She beamed at Aizen.
Gears spun at impossible speeds in his head. This girl's grandmother had most likely done something that had saved the failed experiment without her knowledge.
'Well, Hinamori-san, I am pleased to let you know that your brother is doing well at the Academy and is set to graduate soon. How would you like for me to appeal for him to be placed in the Fifth Division?'
There is still much to be learnt, after all.
to be cont'dAN: Since I felt so bad that I felt compelled to update this, does anyone mind feeling so bad about me doing this for you that you feel compelled to send in a review?
(ooh, convoluted, run-on sentence. in short: review? please?)