Well, since no one is commenting, I'll just have to write more.
- - - - -
"GAH! SHIT!"
Slamming into a hard, stone floor was not Makoto's idea of a good time. He doubt it was anyone's, really. Slowly he got up, and adjusted his glasses. His eyes widened.
Everything around him was white... Except for the black crescent-shaped scythe bearing down on him.
"YEOW!" He shouted, barely dodging the blow. The wielder of the weapon leered at him with his abnormally large mouth, single visible eye narrowed.
"You flinched, runt," the tall Arrancar leered, his spoon-shaped hood glowing slightly in the ambient light all around. Makoto gulped.
"I have brought the boy, Lord Aizen," Ulquiorra spoke , standing on the floor and looking indifferent as usual. Makoto followed his gaze, and his blood turned to ice. He'd been too confused to really feel the spiritual pressure in the area, but now that he was here, now that he was looking...
That charmingly uncaring smile, the cold eyes, the Super-man like hair...
"Welcome, Kikanuma Makoto," He spoke, and Makoto could hear it clearly as though the man were right in front of him. Not perched on an ivory throne so far away.
But, the man was a master of illusions, right?
"Did he resist, Ulquiorra?" Aizen asked.
"Yes. He generated a limited illusion while I was delivering your order to them, in order to finish the full incantation of a level 33 kidou. I blocked it with a cero." Ulquiorra reported in his usual dull monotone. Aizen looked down at Makoto, who fidgeted under the gaze. His sword spirit looking just like him was one thing-Actually meeting him...
"Impressive."
"Most impressive," Makoto found himself mumbling. Aizen's smile never faltered.
"And the girl?"
"She took the bracelet. She will report to me in 24 hours or we will destroy her friends," Ulquiorra spoke. Aizen nodded.
"Then inform our forces in the Real World that their mission is complete."
"Yes, Lord Aizen," Ulquiorra said, before vanishing into a garganta. Aizen turned his gaze back onto Makoto, who was once again nervously drumming his fingers on his sword hilt.
"So, what do we do with this shithead, Lord Aizen?" The tall Espada asked with a leer. "He doesn't seem worth the trouble." He snorted.
"Can't even defend himself when he's being insulted! What are you, you little shit? Some kind of pussy?"
Makoto continued to tap his fingers on his sword. Aizen's smile grew.
"Whatever are you thinking, Makoto?"
"..."
"'Can my zanpakuto's ability work on Aizen? If I can get past this Espada, how many more are there? Even if I could, how would I return home?'" Aizen asked. Makoto coughed.
"... You forgot, 'How do I save Orihime,'" he said in a quiet, but reasonably defiant voice. Aizen chuckled.
"I see... Ever thinking, ever planning, trying to work out how best to defeat your opponent and achieve your goals. A tad reckless, given your admirable attempt to defeat Ulquiorra... But we are much alike, Makoto."
"Genetically maybe, or however the hell that works... But nothing else!" Makoto snarled, anger pushing his courage to action.
"But you cannot deny the need to control and push the events around you," Aizen countered gently. "The power it gives you. You can make fantasy into reality, bend perception to your will. The world is your stage, and you are the director, the master of the theater, and one of the actors all at the same time."
"'All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts?' Something like that?" Makoto asked flatly.
"Precisely. We all have our parts. Even now, you are in the role you have coveted."
"And what's that?" Makoto asked.
"The plucky hero, captured, deep in the castle of his enemies," Aizen spoke, "facing the villain and learning that they are not so different after-"
"Shut up," Makoto growled out. Aizen's smile never faltered.
"Excuse me?"
"Look, you can dress up... You can dress up your words and talk like the villain all you like. Thing is, I'm not Cloud Strife, and you're not girly enough to be Sephiroth! So either throw me into a cell, or tell me why the hell you brought me here! And if it's to turn me against my friends, then you've got another thing coming, Clark Kent!"
Silence. Aizen chuckled again, and Makoto had to resist the urge to jump up and stab him in the face.
"You are fascinating, aren't you? Very well..." He looked to the shadows.
"Halibel."
"Sir," spoke a formal female voice behind him, and Makoto jumped. He turned around and gawked at the blond, well built Espada woman with a high collar and equally high top.
"Take our guest to a room. I will speak with him again later."
"As you wish, my Lord," Halilbel spoke. She glanced at Makoto. "Follow."
"Um... Sure...?"
"Nice assets on her, huh punk?" Nnoitra leered. Halibel ignored him and walked away, Makoto following. He shot a glare back at Aizen, but the bastard merely continued to smile, leaning his face lazily against his hand.
- - - - -
- - - - -
"GAH! SHIT!"
Slamming into a hard, stone floor was not Makoto's idea of a good time. He doubt it was anyone's, really. Slowly he got up, and adjusted his glasses. His eyes widened.
Everything around him was white... Except for the black crescent-shaped scythe bearing down on him.
"YEOW!" He shouted, barely dodging the blow. The wielder of the weapon leered at him with his abnormally large mouth, single visible eye narrowed.
"You flinched, runt," the tall Arrancar leered, his spoon-shaped hood glowing slightly in the ambient light all around. Makoto gulped.
"I have brought the boy, Lord Aizen," Ulquiorra spoke , standing on the floor and looking indifferent as usual. Makoto followed his gaze, and his blood turned to ice. He'd been too confused to really feel the spiritual pressure in the area, but now that he was here, now that he was looking...
That charmingly uncaring smile, the cold eyes, the Super-man like hair...
"Welcome, Kikanuma Makoto," He spoke, and Makoto could hear it clearly as though the man were right in front of him. Not perched on an ivory throne so far away.
But, the man was a master of illusions, right?
"Did he resist, Ulquiorra?" Aizen asked.
"Yes. He generated a limited illusion while I was delivering your order to them, in order to finish the full incantation of a level 33 kidou. I blocked it with a cero." Ulquiorra reported in his usual dull monotone. Aizen looked down at Makoto, who fidgeted under the gaze. His sword spirit looking just like him was one thing-Actually meeting him...
"Impressive."
"Most impressive," Makoto found himself mumbling. Aizen's smile never faltered.
"And the girl?"
"She took the bracelet. She will report to me in 24 hours or we will destroy her friends," Ulquiorra spoke. Aizen nodded.
"Then inform our forces in the Real World that their mission is complete."
"Yes, Lord Aizen," Ulquiorra said, before vanishing into a garganta. Aizen turned his gaze back onto Makoto, who was once again nervously drumming his fingers on his sword hilt.
"So, what do we do with this shithead, Lord Aizen?" The tall Espada asked with a leer. "He doesn't seem worth the trouble." He snorted.
"Can't even defend himself when he's being insulted! What are you, you little shit? Some kind of pussy?"
Makoto continued to tap his fingers on his sword. Aizen's smile grew.
"Whatever are you thinking, Makoto?"
"..."
"'Can my zanpakuto's ability work on Aizen? If I can get past this Espada, how many more are there? Even if I could, how would I return home?'" Aizen asked. Makoto coughed.
"... You forgot, 'How do I save Orihime,'" he said in a quiet, but reasonably defiant voice. Aizen chuckled.
"I see... Ever thinking, ever planning, trying to work out how best to defeat your opponent and achieve your goals. A tad reckless, given your admirable attempt to defeat Ulquiorra... But we are much alike, Makoto."
"Genetically maybe, or however the hell that works... But nothing else!" Makoto snarled, anger pushing his courage to action.
"But you cannot deny the need to control and push the events around you," Aizen countered gently. "The power it gives you. You can make fantasy into reality, bend perception to your will. The world is your stage, and you are the director, the master of the theater, and one of the actors all at the same time."
"'All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts?' Something like that?" Makoto asked flatly.
"Precisely. We all have our parts. Even now, you are in the role you have coveted."
"And what's that?" Makoto asked.
"The plucky hero, captured, deep in the castle of his enemies," Aizen spoke, "facing the villain and learning that they are not so different after-"
"Shut up," Makoto growled out. Aizen's smile never faltered.
"Excuse me?"
"Look, you can dress up... You can dress up your words and talk like the villain all you like. Thing is, I'm not Cloud Strife, and you're not girly enough to be Sephiroth! So either throw me into a cell, or tell me why the hell you brought me here! And if it's to turn me against my friends, then you've got another thing coming, Clark Kent!"
Silence. Aizen chuckled again, and Makoto had to resist the urge to jump up and stab him in the face.
"You are fascinating, aren't you? Very well..." He looked to the shadows.
"Halibel."
"Sir," spoke a formal female voice behind him, and Makoto jumped. He turned around and gawked at the blond, well built Espada woman with a high collar and equally high top.
"Take our guest to a room. I will speak with him again later."
"As you wish, my Lord," Halilbel spoke. She glanced at Makoto. "Follow."
"Um... Sure...?"
"Nice assets on her, huh punk?" Nnoitra leered. Halibel ignored him and walked away, Makoto following. He shot a glare back at Aizen, but the bastard merely continued to smile, leaning his face lazily against his hand.
- - - - -
