[CLOSED]
Who: infidus and slaythemoon
When: A few days ago! After this.
Where: Out in the infamous ruins.
Format: Paragraph
What: Ichigo has returned... seemingly without his reiatsu. Aizen volunteers to test that theory. AND SO WE ARRIVE HERE.
Warnings: Who knows!
There were very few things capable of driving doubt into Aizen's heart. Indeed, in all of his centuries of life, he could barely think of one hand's worth - all things he had spent his life mastering and moving beyond... or turning to his advantage. Silence, for example - the simple quiet of solitude. And then solitude itself - something many might find empty, or disheartening. Something he has turned to time for thought, for planning, for peace. Each doubt had been similar - simple things of the sort that plague many a youthful mind, each long since set aside. Set aside, in fact, for the past century or more, since he first determined what his path would be.
Since then, he has never wavered. Never doubted. Since then, he has never been confused, or uncertain.
...Aizen stood, now, atop the crumbling ruins of a once vast manor. Around him, the corpse of an ancient city laid bare and rotting - blood roses blooming in the broken stone, all green vines and wilting flowers. The walls of the manor, the walls the once surrounded the home itself, are broken - like bones, splintered and shattered. Above him, the dying sun washed the world in red, and he watched the sky as he waited for that boy.
Strange, really, knowing that he wouldn't know when Ichigo arrived. If Ichigo arrived. Not knowing what it meant when Ichigo arrived.
--had the boy truly lost his strength entirely? Or had his merging, his acceptance of himself, brought him to a level beyond that which any other shinigami was capable of detecting? If so... that was unsurprising, in a way. Aizen had been aware of the possibility of achieving such a level - had expected it to occur as he moved through his inevitable evolutions through the power of the hogyoku. The Mist had seemingly frozen its advancement when he arrived... but he was left, at least, with the knowledge that power could become so great, so encompassing, that it became invisible from its sheer omnipresence. (And what had Ichigo said? That there was so much noise that it became silent.) But if that had occurred then--
He didn't know. Ichigo didn't know whether it was true and what it meant, if it were. Aizen didn't either.
That was the difficult part, he decided. Not knowing. He didn't care to be cliche, of course, but the fact remained that knowledge would always be power. If one knew, then one could plan. One could make appropriate choices. One could, in short, prepare. And preparation could quickly become the sole barrier between oneself and ruination. It was for this reason that he could face Yamamoto - the strongest of all Shinigami, stronger even than Aizen himself -... without fear or hesitation. He, of all people, knew this: that the mind was, in the end, the strongest weapon in any war.
Not that he was necessarily at war. This, too, he did not quite know or understand. And so was birthed another doubt.
Two in one evening. Aizen nearly laughed. It seems I truly was correct about you, Ryoka boy.
No. Ichigo. He would give the boy that much, at least.
Winter would soon arrive, and with it, the roses would disappear, and the ruined homes would turn to an ice paradise. The change of the seasons, inexorable as the changes in life. Aizen waited in silence, and watched the crumbling road.
When: A few days ago! After this.
Where: Out in the infamous ruins.
Format: Paragraph
What: Ichigo has returned... seemingly without his reiatsu. Aizen volunteers to test that theory. AND SO WE ARRIVE HERE.
Warnings: Who knows!
There were very few things capable of driving doubt into Aizen's heart. Indeed, in all of his centuries of life, he could barely think of one hand's worth - all things he had spent his life mastering and moving beyond... or turning to his advantage. Silence, for example - the simple quiet of solitude. And then solitude itself - something many might find empty, or disheartening. Something he has turned to time for thought, for planning, for peace. Each doubt had been similar - simple things of the sort that plague many a youthful mind, each long since set aside. Set aside, in fact, for the past century or more, since he first determined what his path would be.
Since then, he has never wavered. Never doubted. Since then, he has never been confused, or uncertain.
...Aizen stood, now, atop the crumbling ruins of a once vast manor. Around him, the corpse of an ancient city laid bare and rotting - blood roses blooming in the broken stone, all green vines and wilting flowers. The walls of the manor, the walls the once surrounded the home itself, are broken - like bones, splintered and shattered. Above him, the dying sun washed the world in red, and he watched the sky as he waited for that boy.
Strange, really, knowing that he wouldn't know when Ichigo arrived. If Ichigo arrived. Not knowing what it meant when Ichigo arrived.
--had the boy truly lost his strength entirely? Or had his merging, his acceptance of himself, brought him to a level beyond that which any other shinigami was capable of detecting? If so... that was unsurprising, in a way. Aizen had been aware of the possibility of achieving such a level - had expected it to occur as he moved through his inevitable evolutions through the power of the hogyoku. The Mist had seemingly frozen its advancement when he arrived... but he was left, at least, with the knowledge that power could become so great, so encompassing, that it became invisible from its sheer omnipresence. (And what had Ichigo said? That there was so much noise that it became silent.) But if that had occurred then--
He didn't know. Ichigo didn't know whether it was true and what it meant, if it were. Aizen didn't either.
That was the difficult part, he decided. Not knowing. He didn't care to be cliche, of course, but the fact remained that knowledge would always be power. If one knew, then one could plan. One could make appropriate choices. One could, in short, prepare. And preparation could quickly become the sole barrier between oneself and ruination. It was for this reason that he could face Yamamoto - the strongest of all Shinigami, stronger even than Aizen himself -... without fear or hesitation. He, of all people, knew this: that the mind was, in the end, the strongest weapon in any war.
Not that he was necessarily at war. This, too, he did not quite know or understand. And so was birthed another doubt.
Two in one evening. Aizen nearly laughed. It seems I truly was correct about you, Ryoka boy.
No. Ichigo. He would give the boy that much, at least.
Winter would soon arrive, and with it, the roses would disappear, and the ruined homes would turn to an ice paradise. The change of the seasons, inexorable as the changes in life. Aizen waited in silence, and watched the crumbling road.