dracoqueen22 (dracoqueen22) wrote,

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Bleach - The Beautiful Lie - Ch 29 - Perception

a/n: As promised, with this fic now complete, updates will happen faster from now on. So, exactly two weeks later, here's the next chapter of The Beautiful Lie. Enjoy!

Title: The Beautiful Lie
Pairings: Urahara/Ichigo, Aizen/Ichigo, Shinji/Nel
Rating: M
Warning: Spoilers for recent chapters, Character death, Yaoi-ness, Post-war fic, Violence
: Years after the painful end, the echoes of war still prove their influence, and Ichigo discovers a dead man in his kitchen.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Perception

“Well, well, well,” Hirako says with an approving grin and a note to his voice that implies teasing and lots of it are soon to come. “Someone took my advice.”

Sousuke closes his eyes briefly, wishing for strength along with pounds of patience. And to think, this day had started off so well. Or at least reasonably so.

“How is it that you have the uncanny ability to appear at the most awkward moment?” he asks, opening his eyes and leveling a stare at Hirako.

Unsurprisingly, his former captain is unbothered by the implication. “It's a secret talent of mine,” he declares flippantly. “So spill the beans, Sou-chan. Just how far have ya gotten with our belle of the ball?”

Sousuke stiffens. “I fail to see how that's any of your business.”

“What Shinji means,” Neliel inserts, laying a quieting hand on Hirako’s arm and shooting him a reprimanding look that makes both Sousuke's brows rise, “is that we’re interested in how well the relationship between you and Ichigo is progressing.”

“Relationship?” the brunet repeats, unable to hide the disbelief in his tone. “We are former enemies who have managed to look beyond our enmity and nothing more.”

Hirako chuckles then. “Now, Sou-chan, if that were all, I don't think I’d have caught ya kissing,” he says and shoving his hands into his pockets. “Unless ya make it a habit of smoochin’ yer sorta-allies? I don't see Kisuke puckerin’ up.”

Sousuke doesn’t bother to hide his shudder. “And you won't either,” he retorts and then flushes when he realizes all he's doing is falling right into Hirako's trap.

Neliel looks exasperated. As though she's struggling to keep control of this conversation.

“Does this mean you aren't interested in Ichigo?” she asks, and there's something about the soft tone of her voice that demands Sousuke be truthful and not evasive.

She's too much like Gin, he decides then. Sousuke never could deny Gin anything either. He hates the way Neliel looks through him sometimes, as though she is the worldlier one and he just a child who understands nothing. He hates that sometimes he thinks she may be right.

Sousuke's hands slip into his pockets for lack of sleeves to hide them in. He sighs.

“I didn’t say that,” he corrects. “But you have to admit that the circumstances are less than ideal.”

Hirako snorts, passing over to stand on the edge of the engawa. “That's putting it lightly. Though it doesn't mean ya should sit back like ya’ve no stake in it either.”

Sousuke really can't tell whose side Hirako is on. He’d thought Hirako and Urahara to be friends, but it seems Hirako has completely given up on the shopkeeper.

“And I suppose I should listen to your advice?”

“You don't have to,” Neliel says, her expression openly encouraging. “But I get the feeling it’d only benefit you.”

Sousuke wonders if his inexperience is that obvious. That it's utterly clear he has no clue what to do with this situation. Sousuke's not completely pathetic. He's dated before, though that was decades ago and they separated on mutual agreement. After her, Sousuke started constructing his plans for restructuring Soul Society, and obtaining a lover became the last thing on his mind.

Not to mention the fact that Ichigo is male. Which is entirely foreign to Sousuke no matter how much he'd like to pretend otherwise.

Sousuke lifts a hand, rubbing his suddenly aching forehead. He idly wonders if this is his true punishment for failing. For having his Espada, uncle, and Gin die and doing little to prevent it.

“I don't understand why you encourage this,” he mutters more to himself than them.

Hirako should despise him, and Neliel should hold no love for him either. But here, they are, openly pushing him at their golden boy. It makes no logical sense.

But then, when has anything Hirako's done ever made sense?

“Because you’d be good for each other,” Neliel replies simply, as though that's all the reason she needs in the world.

“And Urahara?”

Hirako snorts. “What about him? If he can't get his head outta his ass long enough ta see what he's losing, that's not our fault. I've tried ta get him ta see reason, but he's more stubborn than ya are.”

Sousuke makes a less-than-immature face. He does not like being compared to that man in any way, but everyone seems intent on doing so. Even Ichigo for that matter.

His head starts to ache even worse. Being around Hirako is so very tiresome.

“Very well,” Sousuke allows. He knows that even if he doesn't agree, his former captain will no doubt badger him into compliance anyway. “Since you believe I am completely inadequate here, what do you think I should do?”

Hirako breaks into a large sort of grin that used to give Sousuke nightmares as the man's lieutenant. He strides toward Sousuke, clapping him companionably on the shoulder. Something that would’ve sent Sousuke reeling if he hadn't anticipated it and braced himself.

“I knew ya’d see reason,” he declares, and there's something like humor in his eyes. “Now that ya've finally figured out what ya want.”

Sousuke slips out from under his former captain's hand. “I’ve always known my desires,” he retorts because it is the truth.

To replace Soul Society's ruling body has been his goal for decades, centuries even. Never once in there had he considered adding pursuing a relationship with my former enemy who also happens to be male to that list. Particularly at the top.

Hirako's grin widens. “Yeah, but I'll bet ya never saw Ichigo coming. No one does.”

Neliel chuckles, her gaze amused and full of warmth for her lover. “He’s a rather intriguing force of nature.”

“An undeniable presence,” Sousuke murmurs, and he supposes he can't be blamed for his attraction.

Everything that Ichigo is reflects everything that Sousuke has always wanted: strength, intelligence, and an appealing sort of beauty. Ichigo has mystified him from their first encounter, and it makes sense that Sousuke would be attracted to such a puzzle, if only to keep trying to solve it.

An arm slings over Sousuke's shoulder then as Hirako pokes a finger into the brunet’s cheek with his free hand. Sousuke tries to fight the instinctive flush; he isn’t sure he’s entirely successful.

“Aw, little Sou-chan has a crush,” Hirako declares then, and his arm is like a vise. “That's just adorable. Yer lucky I'm going to help ya win our fair prince.”

Perhaps it’s his tone. Maybe the way his arm continues to tighten. But suddenly, Sousuke doesn't feel that fortunate.


Hirako and Neliel make things sound so simple when reality is so much more complicated. They think it should be easy for Sousuke to waltz in, to dare take a position at Ichigo's side. In truth, there is nothing that could be more tangled.

Sighing to himself, Sousuke avoids the room that has served as his sleeping quarters and searches for a place to enjoy solitude. Urahara has once again taken over the library, and even the sun room is occupied.

He heads up, thinking that no one will be on the roof. Not in the dead of night with a rather blistering wind running rampant. It's probably the only place Sousuke can go that he'll be assured Hirako and his unsolicited advice won't follow.

Sousuke can handle the innuendo, the advice on romancing, and the encouragement. What he won't abide are handwritten tips on the ins and outs of gay sex. Frankly, Sousuke doesn't even want to know how his supposedly heterosexual ex-captain has come to have this knowledge.

He feels a breath of cool air across his skin before he rounds the corner, and Sousuke finds that the door to the roof has been propped open, though only by a few inches. It often sticks, so perhaps the last person in had forgotten to close it. He edges out onto the roof, careful to close the door behind him, and bites back a shiver as the wind attacks him with an almost determined bluster.

Like most warehouses, the roof here is mostly flat except for a few projections to break the wind. Sousuke takes a deep breath, feeling unhindered for the first time since he followed Ichigo to this Vizard-infested pace, and glances over the edge. It's late, so the lights over the town are sparkling like distant fires but fewer than there would usually be. Most of the businesses have closed for the night. It's very quiet, Sousuke notices, and he relishes in it.

That's when he hears the sound of rustling, a liquid that sloshes, and someone else's breathing. Sousuke turns, and from the corner of his eye, he finds that he is not alone. Ichigo is here as well, braced against one of the housings for the heating units. There's a jug sitting on his left side, and Sousuke highly doubts that it's filled with water or orange juice.

He also has a suspicion that Ichigo is up here for the same reason as himself. Seeking solitude with wishes to not be disturbed. It would behoove Sousuke to respect that.

He turns back toward the door, but Ichigo's voice stops him in his tracks. It’s low and husky and perhaps a touch amused.

“It's a big enough roof for the both of us,” he says, and there's an invitation present.

Sousuke looks, and Ichigo's gaze has landed on him. The corner of his mouth is tilted upward, one hand lifted to wiggle the bottle invitingly in the brunet’s direction.

“I might even share,” Ichigo adds, and it ought to be a sin the way his eyes darken and cause something in Sousuke's belly to do a twisting flip of appreciation.

Sousuke's feet move before he can actually command them to do so. “What are you having?” he asks, and when Ichigo scoots to the left, leaving the space on his right an open invitation, Sousuke lowers himself down.

“Sake,” Ichigo answers and hands him a cup, probably the one he'd been using. “Shinji doesn't know I have it, or he'd probably flip a lid.”

Sousuke brow lifts as he accepts the cup and watches as Ichigo pours some into it. The jug sounds as if its half-empty, but Ichigo doesn't appear drunk. Perhaps he has a higher tolerance.

“Why would Hirako-san be angry?” he poses but already has a vague idea.

“‘Cause it's his special bottle,” Ichigo returns with a grin that makes something inside Sousuke do odd little twists. “Very expensive, very good shit.”

Sousuke looks at the clear liquid in his cup. “Won't he miss it?” he asks and takes a sip. The taste of alcohol dances across his tongue, and he fights not to grimace. He’s never been a fan. Certainly not like his uncle or mother.

Still, he can’t help the way his brow lifts. This sake is indeed very high quality. He is surprised it wasn't kept under lock and key. Who knew that Hirako had such good taste?

Ichigo tilts the jug toward his mouth then. “Yeah,” he says and lowers the jug, turning toward Sousuke with another one of those mischievous grins. “But who cares? We might die tomorrow, so it’d be a shame to let this go to waste.”

Ah, yes. The battle soon to come. Sousuke can't say he’d forgotten about it, but the truth of the matter is, there's little he can do to be prepared. He cannot practice his kidoh or his sword-skills, and his hand-to-hand abilities are only going to get him so far. The fact of the matter is, he will be sticking to Ichigo's side and trying to be subtle about it.

“Death isn’t an option,” Sousuke comments quietly, hoping that they can somehow avoid a trip into maudlin territory. “It is victory or nothing.”

Ceramic clinks as Ichigo pours more into Sousuke's cup. “I used to be that optimistic,” he replies, almost conversational. “It wasn't until Grimmjow ripped Renji to pieces that I even realized that the good guys don't win sometimes.”

He says it so frankly that Sousuke flinches, but he’s unsure how he's supposed to take the almost offhand comment. Is this a silent warning? Or is this just the unthinking comment of a grieving man whose tongue has been loosened by drink?

He works his jaw, taking a long draw of the sake for courage. It doesn’t work. Never has. But somehow, it settles the twitch of his fingers.

“Good and evil are all a matter of perspective,” Sousuke says carefully and with the hopes that he isn't provoking his companion into a resentful fury.

A small chuckle escapes Ichigo. It is nearly amused and definitely bitter. Sousuke has changed little in the last several years, but this boy who is now a man is miles different.

“Oh, I know that all too well,” Ichigo says and turns to looking straight at Sousuke. In the shadows of the roof, his eyes are almost black. “Otherwise, I wouldn't be sitting here with the man who's supposed to be my greatest enemy.”

Sousuke meets his gaze evenly, but he can still feel the way the air has shifted. Perhaps it is the wind. Maybe it is Ichigo’s reiatsu that he can’t quite pull in entirely anymore. He can’t really say.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asks, and his voice is very, very soft.

Ichigo waves it away. “I invited you, didn't I?” There's a twinge of annoyance in his tone. “Are you always going to assume you've crossed some invisible line?”

Sousuke finishes off the sake and contemplates the emptiness of his cup. “I’m well aware of the precariousness of my position.”

That makes his companion scoff. Somehow, it is oddly reassuring.

“But you're still sitting here.”

His head tilts into a shallow nod. “Yes, I am.”

After all, only a fool would walk away after an invitation from Kurosaki Ichigo. Only a fool would let him sit on the roof by himself, finishing off a bottle of sake alone on the eve of declaring war against Soul Society. Sousuke is not Urahara; he is not that foolish.

Ichigo's tongue darts over his lips. Sousuke follows the motion with more intensity than makes rational sense.

“Doesn't say much for your sense of self-preservation, does it?” the younger man asks and lifts the jug again, gesturing for Sousuke to move his cup within reach.

“There are some things worth the challenge,” Sousuke answers without thinking.

It’s a first for him, not even considering the consequences or the effects of his words, and that's when sake spills over his fingers as Ichigo misses the cup entirely.

There is honest surprise in his eyes, as though he's forgotten all about the events of the past few days. Then again, to be fair, Ichigo has done all of the initiating, and Sousuke hasn't done much to assure the Vizard that he's quite interested as well. Sousuke himself hadn't realized just how far his intrigue stretched until so very recently.

This is something that must be rectified, and the sooner the better.

“You...” Ichigo stutters, and though it is dark, Sousuke can see the color darkening his cheeks.

“I apologize,” Sousuke interrupts but is quick to elaborate when Ichigo's eyes narrow at what he perceives to be a rejection. “I should’ve made my intentions clear sooner.”

There is a moment where Ichigo seems to realize exactly what Sousuke means, and that's the chance that he takes to cup the back of Ichigo's head and pull him closer. Their lips meet, breaths mingling with the familiar taste of the sake. Then, Ichigo's tongue is in his mouth, warm and wet and oh-so inviting.

A hand lands on Sousuke's thigh, squeezing warmly, and Ichigo leans into the kiss, deepening it with a sound bordering on a purr that echoes in his throat. The lazy twist of heat building in Sousuke's belly is inclined to agree, and his thumb strokes the curve of Ichigo's jaw. He sets out to explore Ichigo's mouth, so utterly pleased that Ichigo isn’t the sort to merely sit and be handled.

Instead, he is as much a force of nature here as in everything else, tongue setting out to claim as his lips move with a demanding pressure. His fingers knead against Sousuke's thigh as he pulls back long enough to nibble on Sousuke's bottom lip before deepening the kiss once more. Sousuke's fingers tease at the nape of Ichigo's neck as the wind stirs, cutting around their little shelter.

It has been years since Sousuke has kissed anyone; he had almost forgotten the simple joy of it. The taste of someone else on his lips, the sound of their breathing, the scent of another person surrounding him. The force of their touch and the eagerness of their spirit. Ichigo must have loosed more of the control of his reiatsu; either that or the alcohol lessens his inhibitions. It's a light buzz on the air, a gentle tingle that runs along Sousuke's body as opposed to taking away his breath.

It's quite a heady feeling.

The jug clunks to the rooftop; a sound that Sousuke only dimly notices because it frees Ichigo's other hand, giving him room to grasp Sousuke's own. Ichigo ends the kiss, but before Sousuke can think to protest, sake-sticky fingers are drawn toward Ichigo's mouth.

“We don't want it to go to waste,” he says huskily, promise heavy in his gaze.

Sousuke's breath catches in his throat, a mixture of anticipation and building arousal as Ichigo's tongue flicks across his skin. His eyes are dark and dangerous; there should be a rule against something this erotic. But he laves Sousuke's fingers with his tongue, drawing each into his warm mouth and cleaning them of the spilled sake. With every pass of his tongue, it feels like there is a direct line to Sousuke's groin.

Ichigo is trying to kill him. There's no other way to explain the situation.

Sousuke groans as Ichigo releases the last finger with a lewd sound. One that would probably destroy lesser men. And in a sense, it does exactly what Ichigo intends, destroys Sousuke's control. He leans forward, crashes their mouths together, and feels a thrill shoot through him as Ichigo moans low in his throat.

The kiss is brief, a clashing of lips and tongue, before Sousuke's mouth wanders elsewhere. He's intrigued by the thin layer of stubble on Ichigo's jaw and more intrigued by the hollow of his ear. The Vizard smells like a mix of sake and soap, and when Sousuke's mouth explores the hollow of his throat, he can feel Ichigo's pulse against his tongue. He feels like a schoolboy all over again, groping in the shadows of the roof.

Ichigo's left hand loses its hold on Sousuke's and instead grips the front of his shirt, fist tightening in the thick cotton. His fingers flex on Sousuke's thigh, a gasp escaping his lips and quickly carried away by the wind. Sousuke's lips travel upward, finding a tasty ear to nibble on, rewarded by the soft moan that Ichigo allows.

The grip on Sousuke's shirt loosens, and then, Ichigo's fingers are boldly trekking elsewhere. They find the untucked tails of Sousuke's shirt and dip beneath the fabric. Cool fingers rub across Sousuke's belly, making his insides do a twist of aroused joy.

But they are on a roof after all, rather exposed with a chilly wind seeking to make either of them ill before the morning. Not to mention the unanswered questions that still dance in the edges of Sousuke's mind, demanding to be addressed. With much reluctance, Sousuke draws away, his tongue swiping quickly over his lips as though to savor the flavor that lingers there.

Ichigo is looking at him, brow slightly furrowed, a silent demand for an explanation. His eyes are dark; he's not entirely unaffected either.

Sousuke braces himself, prepared to speak what will effectively be a mood-killer. But he has to know; his conscience won't allow anything else.

“I'm not Urahara Kisuke.”

Ichigo's eyes narrow, but he doesn't move away in immediate affront. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I'm not casual,” Sousuke clarifies, and the last thing he wants to do is allow Ichigo to think that he's playing a game. That couldn't be further to the truth.

Though he loathes to admit it, Hirako and Neliel were right. Sousuke is serious about this. He doesn't want to be treated like a temporary substitute.

Ichigo blinks. “I… I don't know how to respond to that.”

“With the truth,” Sousuke says, not missing the irony in his statement. “Am I a distraction? A replacement? I'm not blind. You and Urahara are... disagreeing. But I don't believe that's the end of it.”

An emotion flickers in Ichigo's eyes – Anger? Disappointment? – before he clenches his jaw.

“You're not a replacement or a distraction.” He sounds annoyed. “But I can't answer you with any certainty either. The truth is, I just don't know, and whatever happens from now on is entirely up to you.”

Sousuke isn't sure how to take that either. Does that mean Ichigo is genuinely interested?

He settles for simplifying his question.

“Are you and Urahara through?”

Ichigo's eyes skitter away. “Yeah. We are,” he grits out, but there's no certainty in his voice, no firmness. His tone wavers, and he chooses that very moment to sit back, fingers unfurling from Sousuke's shirt and his warm hand disappearing.

Sousuke doesn't believe him. Oh, he doesn't think Ichigo is lying. More like Ichigo is only saying what he believes to be the truth right now. For all intents and purposes, Urahara won't get over himself to give Ichigo what he needs. So yes, they are over.

But should Urahara grow a pair and realize how much of an idiot he's being... Sousuke isn't so sure. Ichigo is the forgiving type, and though Sousuke loathes Urahara, he can't deny the ties they share. Something Sousuke can never hope to match.

It's an unending circle of uncertainty. Sousuke could spend all night overthinking this. And maybe that’s his problem, putting too much thought when he should be focusing on action. Maybe for once, he should seize the moment and worry about particulars later.

Sousuke leans forward then, and the kiss is soft now. Almost gentle and searching and reassuring. A brush of lips and open mouths and tongue that is light and not demanding. Sweet. Nearly aching.

This time, it’s Ichigo who draws away first, and the silence is companionable as they sit next to each other. Ichigo drinks from the sake jug, but Sousuke merely toys with his cup. He has no great love of sake and shakes his head when he’s offered more.

“How are you getting the key?”

Ichigo’s question comes out of nowhere, but Sousuke isn’t truly all that surprised. He’s been expecting this for some time to be perfectly honest, but still, he hesitates. He has already said he wouldn't to everyone else, but he supposes he can make an exception for Ichigo. He can be certain Ichigo won't betray him or his source.

“It will be given to me,” he says, and lets the sound of the wind fill the quiet for a moment. “From a mutual friend of ours.”

Ichigo idly sloshes the remaining sake around in the bottom of the jug. “Unohana-san, I assume?”

“Close.” Sousuke takes a deep breath. “Nanao-san will bring it to me.”

“Ise?” Ichigo repeats, and indeed, he sounds utterly shocked. “Why would she do that?”

Sousuke doesn't know how to answer that. Both she and Unohana are noticeably vague in their letters, refusing to elaborate on their motivations. He only knows that they’re willing to support him – as Shunsui would’ve done. Whether or not their past relationship has anything to do with it, Sousuke can only speculate.

“I don't know,” he answers truthfully and sets down his cup. “She hasn't given me a good explanation in her letters.”

Ichigo blinks. Surprise is etched into his features.

“Letters?” he repeats. “Since when have you been getting letters from Soul Society?”

“Since I've been slipping out of the house when you were otherwise occupied to check my post office box,” Sousuke answers and tries to chase away the mental images of what he means by occupied.

It doesn't take long for Ichigo to connect the dots, and when it does, that alluring blush darkens his cheeks. Ichigo ducks his head for a second and runs a hand over his hair.

“Kisuke would flip a lid if he ever heard you admit that.”

Sousuke can't help his smirk. “I know,” he retorts and doesn't bother to hide the smugness either. “He always thought I didn't dare leave, but with him distracted, he never noticed.”

Ichigo’s face is still red as he glances up, but his expression is puzzled now. Searching.

“I don't get it.”

Sousuke tilts his head at the sudden segue. But Ichigo doesn’t clarify.


One hand makes a vague gesture. “I understand Kisuke's anger. I understand why the Vizard might hate you so much. I get that.” He lifts a shoulder. “What I don't understand is why you hate Kisuke so much. What did he ever do to you?”

Tension coils unhappily in Sousuke's belly. Ichigo just had to ask didn't he? Just when Sousuke is trapped between the truth he has no problem sharing and the way said truth might be taken. Would Ichigo believe him? He doesn't know, can't even begin to guess.

“I’m not certain I can answer that,” Sousuke allows and looks away.

It's easier to deny Ichigo when he's not looking directly at him. His hands clench and unclench, the knowledge sitting inside him like a lead weight.

Ichigo shifts, empty sake jug clunking to the rooftop beside him. “You can't tell me you forgot,” he says with a snort.

“I've not,” Sousuke returns, and it's a bit more fierce than he’d like. “By all the gods, I will never forget.”

Ichigo is nearly taken aback at his tone. Not that Sousuke can blame him. He isn’t given to anger very often. Though Urahara Kisuke admittedly brings out the very worst in him.

“Then why can't you answer?” Ichigo questions after a few minutes.

And of course now is when he’d prove to be most persistent. Before, he would’ve taken Sousuke's evasive answers at face value and left well enough alone. But now, with this thing between them, he feels he has the right and the duty to snoop.

Sousuke sighs.

“In order to explain myself, I’d give away Urahara's secrets as well, and that is unfortunately not my place.”

Ichigo's eyes narrow; his reiatsu is a suddenly buzzing presence that prickles across Sousuke's skin. Not hurtfully but it's definitely noticeable.

“Great,” the Vizard mutters. “Someone else who doesn't want to tell me the truth.”

“It's not so simple,” Sousuke inserts and tries to explain himself without sounding patronizing or that he's on Urahara's side in any small way. “I’m neither lying nor concealing a fact. There is something, yes. Something that gives me great reason to loathe that man's existence, but even I recognize that exposing that particular event would lessen your opinion of your teacher.”

A muscle jumps in Ichigo's jaw. “That only makes me more curious.”

Sousuke shakes his head. He’s very tempted to say it. Oh-so tempted. But he knows there are lines he mustn’t cross. Not here. Not yet.

“I’m sorry, but that knowledge is between Urahara and myself.” His gaze is unflinching as Ichigo’s eyes narrow. “Though frankly, I'm not sure even he knows. Either way, it is not something that affects you directly. It is my secret to keep.”

Ichigo looks at him a second more before he props his chin on his knuckles.


Sousuke lifts his head. “What is?”

“The fact that you'd keep any truth to yourself, even after knowing how badly I react to secrets,” Ichigo says, and a small smile curls his lips. “That's pretty ballsy.”

Sousuke allows a shrug. “Perhaps. But at least in this case, I have told you why I can't reveal that information up front. I'm sure there are some things you wouldn't wish to share with me.”

Ichigo makes a noise of agreement in his throat, but shadows pass through his eyes. He straightens, leaning back against the wall behind him, gazing forward at the night sky.

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “So I'll let you off the hook for now. But don't think I won't ask again.”

Sousuke merely inclines his head. It’s a reprieve. A temporary one at best.

But for now, that is enough.


a/n: Ah, things are coming to a head. Ichigo's starting to ask the right questions, and Aizen's getting cornered. Kisuke will get his chance to speak again soon, and finally, we'll have some action! Though, it probably won't play out like you think it will. *grins*

As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated!


This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/125831.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.
Tags: bleach, the beautiful lie
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