As you may or may have not noticed, these prompts are going in somewhat of a chronological order, though not a very strict one. Number 41 is an obvious detour from that and should be set alone, but it wrote itself and I was unwilling to alter it at all.

Prompt: 041. Goodbye

"Goodbye, Captain Hirako."

Shinji's body tensed at the chills his lieutenant's voice, low and almost menacing, sent down his spine. He frowned up at the younger Shinigami and paused in scribbling his signature across a document.

"Ya ain't gotta sound so serious 'bout it," he grumbled. "Ya sound like ya ain't ever gonna see me again or somethin'." The thought that such a notion would even upset Aizen nearly made Shinji snort. "Lighten up, Sousuke."

A smile played across Aizen's lips. "Do I really sound like that, or are you imposing on my tone?"

"Ya really sounded like it," Shinji insisted, dropping his elbows to rest against his desk. "An' what's with the 'goodbye', anyway? Shouldn't it be 'good night?'"

A moment of consideration gave way to a conceding nod in the other's direction. "A poor choice of words on my behalf, then. Good night, Captain Hirako."

"Poor choice of words?" Shinji repeated after Aizen had slipped through the door. He frowned a bit more. "As if."

The next day, a captain's meeting was held in response to the growing threat of mysterious disappearances in Rukongai.

Prompt: 042. Scarred

"Do you have a minute, sir?"

Shinji glanced up from his relaxing position, stretched out along the deck outside of his office, and immediately let his expression drop from curious to bothered. Number one way to ruin a pleasant afternoon for Hirako Shinji: Include Aizen Sousuke in it.

"Whadda ya want?" he asked, turning his attention away from the other man in favor of a more pleasant sight. Namely, anything else at all. "I ain't givin' ya the day off, if that's what you're wonderin'."

Hardly fazed by the attitude aimed in his direction, Aizen kept a patient smile on his lips and moved to sit on the edge of the deck by his superior. "That wasn't what I was going to ask," he assured.

"Then what?" Despite Aizen sitting in clear view, now, Shinji's eyes remained on the sky and the surrounding buildings and, most often, a point in the distance where he could focus so as to appear lost in thought, just in case he didn't like what he was being asked.

"I noticed it before, one day," Aizen began, his own gaze taking in the subtle beauty of their division's grounds, "when you claimed it was too warm to keep properly dressed." He waited a moment before turning his head to search the other man's form. "Your scars."

Even though there was no visible discomfort in Shinji's features, he was mentally shaken by the casual observation. Of course he knew about his scars- could remember where each one came from and how badly they had hurt- and of course he knew Aizen would notice them that day. But he hadn't expected the other man to actually take it to heart or bring it up. He couldn't help the frown on his lips.

"What about 'em?" he asked, offhandedly, not bothering to make eye contact or act as if the subject was of any importance. Though, it took a little too much effort to seem natural.

"Where did they come from?"

Shinji's nose wrinkled and he finally looked in Aizen's direction. "What kinda question is that? They're scars! They come from battle!" He gave an exasperated sigh. "Everyone's got scars, Sousuke. I'm sure even you've got a couple."

"None like yours," the younger man admitted.

For a moment, Shinji considered the underlying meaning to his lieutenant's words. "Scars are scars, right? Even if ya can't see 'em." The smile he received- as if he'd hit the nail right on the head- turned his stomach a few times.

Aizen broke the eye contact and turned his head once more. "You are a frighteningly perceptive man, captain."

The compliment did little for Shinji's mood. "Yeah, well," he muttered, letting his eyes close, "they're hard t' hide when ya can't cover 'em up."

Prompt: 043. Last dance

Jazz music did something to Hirako Shinji. Something, frankly, unnatural. Perhaps there were some brain-washing mechanisms in the notes, for vocals were not prominent in the melodies floating through the Fifth Division offices and so suggestive lyrics couldn't be blamed. Surely, since it came from the living world, it was highly suspect. Those humans were always doing something vile to one another and this must have been another attack. Specifically, if Aizen had to guess, men's assault on women.

That was the only explanation for the aphrodisiacal effect the music had on his captain. Whenever Shinji put on a record, he instantly became more compliant and receptive to ideas that he would normally deem ridiculous. Doing work, for instance. He claimed it relaxed him, but Aizen had to wonder if there wasn't something a bit more in the works. Especially, one day, when he happened upon his captain practically dancing with himself in his office.

"Captain Hirako..." But Aizen wasn't sure how to continue. It was almost too pleasant to see his captain like this to interrupt it for something like business.

"Eh?" Shinji's head cocked over his shoulder and he let a languid grin cover his face. "Sousuke~" He turned toward his lieutenant and extended a hand, a deep intensity brimming under the surface of his gaze. "Don't look so down. I saved ya the last dance."

Aizen studied the hand for a moment, sent a glance to the papers tucked under his arm, and gave a soft sigh. He decided, as the papers were temporarily traded for his captain's arms, that the humans couldn't have created something more destructive than jazz music.

Prompt: 044. Burn

A day off of work, for Aizen, meant either reflection or planning. He had taken part in quite a bit of the latter during his previous weekends and though he enjoyed accurately predicting every move the pawns in his game would make, his mind implored him to relax for the day. He suspected that, perhaps, it was finally revolting against his will when it plagued him with thoughts of his captain.

They weren't unusual thoughts, but they woke a feeling in Aizen that he hadn't experienced very often. He wasn't sure if it was actual anger or just irritation, but he did know it was dangerous. For the more he thought of his captain, the more he came to realize that Hirako Shinji was not a man to be taken lightly. He was not a threat, per say, but he was more like a disease. A malignant tumor, which sometimes sparked pain and fear in the back of Aizen's mind but never made a serious move to assault or disable the lieutenant. The main source of Aizen's unease was the hovering reality that Shinji was not a temporary figure. Or, rather, that he had been intended to be, but no longer seemed content with staying as such.

The more Aizen thought about it, the more he felt his body tense and his thoughts darken. Shinji was unwelcome in his mind and yet he forced his way in. Aizen's life, overall, was not a place for any other being to make themselves comfortable, and yet that man... that man had burned an imprint of himself into the back of Aizen's eyelids. He had silently, inevitably, perhaps even unknowingly, crept his way into the little fragments of Aizen's subconscious that weren't preoccupied with bigger and better things.

Aizen had respected his captain from day one. Not the forced respect that he was made to show on a daily basis, and not an acknowledgment that Shinji was a greater or better person than he. But the sort of respect that equals of a certain mind showed each other. Shinji had so much potential and Aizen had specifically excluded his captain's involvement from his plans, other than a free pass to avoid bonding, because of that respect.

A light frown touched down on Aizen's lips as he quietly made his decision to subject Shinji to the utmost of his capabilities. It was a great potential wasted, he knew, but too much was at stake. He could not allow the fire in Shinji's soul to burn him any longer, lest his determination be melted away. The pang of loss in his chest was, he swore, the last he would ever feel.

Prompt: 045. Steady

"His breathing is steady, now, but he'll still be unconscious for a while."

"A while? How long's a while?" Shinji demanded, eyes narrowed at the captain before him.

Unohana remained passive in the face of a distraught Shinji; she had seen far too many imploring or angry faces in her time and had long ago carefully developed a calm facade that, she hoped, ushered in reassurance and peace. Especially when delivering grave news, such as that of a subordinate's comatose state, she thought a collected presentation was of the utmost necessity.

"That will depend on him," she said evenly with a faint smile, "but your lieutenant is a strong man. I have every bit of confidence in him. You should, as well, and try not to worry so much."

Shinji hesitated at those words and crossed his arms, giving an indignant sniff off to the side. "I ain't worried," he objected, "but if that brat dies on me, I'll have a hell of a time replacin' 'im."

A real, and slightly amused, smile took hold of Unohana's lips. "His life was never in danger," she reminded him. Her head inclined slightly toward a door. "You can go and see him, if you'd like."

Shinji's eyes darted toward the door and, for a moment, he seemed incredibly indecisive. Finally, he turned his back to both her and Aizen's room. "Nah," he said in a voice a bit too loud, "he don't need a babysitter or anything. Just send 'im back when 'e wakes up." He sent one more glance over his shoulder. "Thanks, Unohana," he murmured before making his way from the Fouth Division.