tampered | (no subject)

Ukitake hadn't exactly had time to acquire much in the roughly two-day time he'd been there. He had, however, managed a simple dark kimono and geta. Being old-fashioned, he'd never quite managed to be comfortable in modern garb, so it wasn't surprising to see him dressed so. With his hair braided and pinned up in a style that would have been scandalous had he been a woman, he seemed like something out of an archaic age. Not old---just.. oddly delicate, like aged porcelain. In a gesture of good faith, he'd even left Sogyou no Kotowari behind; it was something he never would have done in Seireitei.

Settling at the table with a brilliant smile, handkerchief tucked discreetly away in his sleeve, Jyuushirou took a brief moment to simply study his former fellow captain, noting the changes and the few things that had stubbornly remained the same. --He was embarrassed to admit, even to himself, that it was good to see him. He'd missed him. He'd once considered Aizen Sousuke to be a good friend.

"It's good to see you, too," he responded softly, eyes curving nearly into crescents as he folded his hands loosely in his lap. His voice was hoarse, he was paler than usual, but otherwise, there was no indication of how ill he'd been. "I hope you're doing well."

"Better than you it would seem," he said, shrugging lightly and perusing his menu, "I would have hoped you were not still so ill. Perhaps that's one of the deeper ironies I have seen in Soul Society. Here you are, one of the 'old guard', the originals, and you're being diminished by a simple disease."

A nearby waiter was flagged over by him so that they could give their orders.

"Two large bottles of hot sake, please, as well as the prime rib with sauteed mushrooms, fettucine alfredo, and garlic bread," he turned to his guest, "Jushiro, your order?"

Turning Sousuke's words over as he briefly skimmed the menu, Jyuushirou finally shook his head and gave a quiet, breathy laugh. "Ah--a Caesar salad is plenty for me, thank you. Water, room temperature." He didn't know if his ravaged throat could handle much more than that. Sake would be murder, though he'd manage somehow.

He waited until the waiter had taken their order and left before glancing back up at the other man. --He was smiling, of course; he rarely wasn't, when around others. "Ah, I don't mind most of the time. --Dying, I mean." He chuckled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "I've been dying my entire life. And I've lasted this long, so I imagine I've a few more centuries left before it takes me." It was funny, really; most people were terrified of dying. To Jyuushirou, it was just a fact he'd come to accept. His sickness was going to kill him. There was nothing he could do about that, so he went on with his life and tried to enjoy every moment.

"I wonder if that didn't influence your decision?" he went on after a moment, making a musing noise as golden-brown eyes flickered over the other man's face. "--Oh, not me specifically. I mean in general. That we, the undying, can still die."

Aizen chuckled low in his throat as the waiter walked away with their orders. He crossed his arms and locked eyes with Ukitake, his expression amused, but still very focused.

"I can't say I've ever seen a hollow die of old age or disease," he said, smiling, "But there are also all those negative factors of being one to deal with. I'd be lying if said I wanted to die, but I'd also be lying if I said that I feared death. It would just terribly inconveniencing to die. It tends to really halt one's career," he said, idly tracing a wine glass with his finger.

"But that's not my ultimate goal, as I'm sure you're all aware. I want power. Power so great that all weakness is beneath me. Indeed, I have chased that phantom since I was a young child in Rukongai. It's just that now I have the means...Or did. I left the Hougyoku in Hueco Mundo, can you believe it?"

"It is inconvenient to be ill so much," the white-haired man admitted ruefully, blinking mildly back at his companion. But then, unexpectedly, something else caught his attention. "--You were born in Rukongai?" It seemed an odd thing to want to address, especially when there were so many other factors to discuss. But as far as Jyuushirou was concerned, they had the rest of the night to argue if they wanted. The rest of eternity. This was something that didn't have to do with philosophy or ethics; something he was interested in knowing.

"I would have never expected it," he added, smiling and tilting his head slightly. "But then, I suppose most people would never guess it of me, either." Jyuushirou was well-spoken, elegant, very well-educated; he'd had well over two-thousand years to perfect such things. Though he'd never been as rough-mannered as Abarai Renji, for instance. --And neither had Sousuke been, as far as he could remember.

"You've no other family?" If he had, Jyuushirou suspected they'd been rather shocked by their relative's choices.

"It was very long ago," Aizen calmly stated, "But I remember vividly. Much like Matsumoto, Gin, and Kenpachi and his brat, I came from the outer-most districts. More to the point, THE outermost district. A veritable no-man's land."

He looked away to greet the incoming waiter, who put their food and water on the table and left. There was a light scraping of silver ware as he tasted the steak.

"Mmmm...delicious," he exclaimed, smiling and wiping his mouth, "Where was I? Oh yes, the 80th district. A cold, violent world, where power is the only thing that matters. I was a small boy at the time. Whether I died as a child on earth, or was abandoned there by parents in Rukongai, I don't know. In any case, I learned quickly what truly mattered in this world. The difference between myself and the others was that I had no one. No caretaker. No benefactor. No protector. Nothing to obscure my vision of the true world. So often I looked up at the shining paradise in the distance, wondering what it was like there. Generations of us living, suffering, and dying, while they lived in relative peace."

Ukitake could understand that. He'd often wondered, when he was young, what it would be like to always have enough. To never have to see his family go hungry.

"My family is from one of the inner districts," he admitted after a moment, ducking his head slightly as he adjusted his grip to compensate for using a fork instead of chopsticks. "I had five brothers and two sisters, and I was the eldest. My mother died when I was twelve, and my father shortly thereafter of heartbreak." He glanced back up, smiling again, though the expression was obviously a mask to anyone who knew him. "I was always very sick. It was.. difficult providing for them." That was probably more than anyone else knew about him, save for--perhaps--Shunsui and General Yamamoto. He wasn't entirely certain why he'd told Sousuke, save because the other man had explained his own childhood.

He took a quiet, rasping breath, head tilting slightly as the prongs of his fork toyed with a piece of lettuce. "I had to do a lot of things. I saw the very worst of people, of Shinigami, of the nobility.. I saw what giving people power does to them. Even good people become cruel."

"That is the way of things. I believe the humans have a saying about absolute power corrupting absolutely. Of course, that depends on the will of the individual. I'm well aware of the heinous nature of my actions, Jushiro, but I would not take them back. I was not "corrupted" by the power I have. I was enlightened by it."

He poured sake into a cup and gently swirled it around, then took a sip of the hot liquid. A few more bites of meat entered his mouth.

"Not that I never had the urge to showboat, mind you. It was very frustrating having to hold myself back in the academy, just so you and Shunsui could advance ahead of me. I, too, could've become one of the old man's favored students, but I didn't want his eyes to always be over me. I might have been found out much sooner, you see, " he stopped, taking another sip, "I couldn't have that."

"It wasn't our abilities that made him so fond of us, Sousuke-kun," the white-haired man said gently, golden-brown eyes meeting the other man's gaze. "He always cared for you, too, you know. But even then, there was always--" He made a musing noise, uncertain of how to put it. "--It was like.. there was this barrier between you and everyone else, even then. Oh, you were polite, good-natured, a good friend. But--" He lifted a hand, allowing it to hover scant inches over Aizen's wrist. "..People could get close, but never quite.. touch you." The fingers, delicate and calloused, touched lightly against skin before being drawn away again.

"I think that, more than anything, kept people from being too easy with you." He smiled faintly, vaguely, the expression oddly sad for his normally cheerful countenance. "It didn't stop some of us from trying, of course. And I know it sounds terrible, but.. when you left, to me it felt more like a personal betrayal. It hurt me. And I should have been thinking more of the people you killed, what you did to Hinamori-fukutaichou.. but at the time, I couldn't."

Jyuushirou took things like that very much to heart. He cared too much, sometimes. It was.. difficult for him to hate.

"I just.. I just don't understand how anything could be worth so many deaths. Nothing you do can bring those people back. So what is all your power for, Sousuke-kun?" To never die? To never hurt, or be ill? To never love or lose love? It was what made them alive to begin with. If one took those things away, a person may as well be a statue.

Hands trembling slightly, Jyuushirou coughed lightly into them, terribly, overwhelmingly grateful that for once blood didn't spot his fingers when he pulled them away again.

"You are.. my friend," he added at last in a near-whisper. "I've never stopped thinking that. And.. Hinamori loved you. Your division adored you. We all cared----none of that means.. anything to you? Nothing at all?"

Aizen mulled over his words, turning them over in his head. He ate a few more bites of food as he thought, the finished his first glass of alcohol and wiped his mouth.

"Are you familiar with Earth history at all? It's one of many things I studied along with the usual materials. Long ago, the continent of China was split up into numerous warring states. Because of their high population, there was never a shortage of soldiers. They warred with one another endlessly, with no end in sight. Territories were tugged back and forth, costing scores of lives every year. Eventually, one man took it upon himself to unify the country. Qin Shi Huang. He crushed territory after territory in his bid for power. He butchered and brutalized many. But in the end, he completed his goal. He killed many in one large war, then assimilated the lands in One rule under heaven. Some saw him as brutal, but in retrospect, he saved lives. The wars would have continued without him regardless, and for much longer. One large, continuing war that would kill many, versus numerous smaller civil wars continuing for a much longer period of time, stacking up many MORE bodies. Force is what institutes change.

He locked his eyes Jushiro's, boring into him.

"I was MERCIFUL to Hinamori. She was mentally dependent on me. Now look at her. She was a psychological wreck. She gave up her shinigami status and invited a hollow inside her self, making her a traitor to her people. She even came here soon after she arrived, still ready to join me at the slightest word. What was I going to do, take her with me? She would languish and die in Hueco Mundo, away from all those she loved, knowing that WE would be killing them. THAT would be cruel, Jushiro. She should not have been revived, now all she has is revenge."

He glared harder, the golden eyes flashing.

"Let me tell YOU about Soul Society. It is an aging institution blind to it's own sins. I don't need to remind you of the Quincys' destruction, and why, for balance? Think about it. They were good at what they did, just as we were. What happens to the Soul Society if Hollows disappear? Simple. Soul Society also disappears, having no more purpose. It exists to perpetuate itself, Jushiro, no other reason. And for every noble and useful shinigami, I've seen just as many who were shiftless, lazy, ignorant, or outright sadistic. No better than the Samurai of ancient Japan, obsessed with customs, following orders blindly, and testing their swords on anything that they want. It's an endless war with Hollows. One the shinigami barely make a dent in. The only thing keeping Hollows from conquering until this point has been their lack of cohesion with one another."

Anguished eyes slid shut, and Jyuushirou lifted fingers to touch his temple, pushing hair back in one of those mindless, meaningless motions he did when thinking.

"Who made her dependent, Sousuke-kun?" he said at last, lifting his head again, brows drawing together. "Did you not admit to it yourself? You wanted her that way, so that she couldn't bear to live without you. --Don't.." His breath hitched, and he swallowed down another cough. "Don't you dare justify your actions regarding her. I'll accept what you say about Soul Society, because.. I know. I know. But.. we both know that nothing about what you did to Hinamori-san was merciful."

He smoothed his hands across his lap, pressing out invisible wrinkles without even looking.

"I know corruption. I see it every day. I have no reservations about admitting that power in Soul Society is woefully out of balance." He breathed a sigh, head tilting slightly as he glanced back up at the dark-haired man through white lashes. "I would love nothing better than to rip down the walls of the Seireitei and force every noble family, every Shinigami, every single person within to live side-by-side with those of Rukongai. But I can't do it. No.. one person can do it, no matter how skilled."

He had always talked a great deal with his hands, and his fingers were slowly curling around his glass of water, fingers pale and strangely translucent, as if he were simply.. fading.

"I agree that there need to be changes, but I.. I am concerned for you, Sousuke-kun."

"WRONG. I can change it. With the throne, I could do anything! Imagine it. As it stands, even death is unfair. Humans go to their afterlife, only to find out there is no true eternal peace. Where you get thrown in Rukongai has nothing to do with who you are. Why else would children get thrown into the brutal outer districts sometimes? Why is there no law or order? It's not just Soul Society, everything needs to be changed. Everyone wants to make a real difference in the world, but I can actually do it."

He fire left his eyes and he reclined in his seat, brushing the one long strang of hair from his face.

"Jushiro," he said, taking a sip of his newly-filled glass, "Despite what some may think, I am not a sadist. Killing those I at least respected for their power, such as you and Shunsui, does not give me a joyful feeling. More like frustration with the fact that you can't see my point. If I had the option of simply absorbing some of the shinigami into my ranks, I would. But I think we all know that's not going to happen. The old man is stuck in his ways, unable to see past the iron-clad rules of the now-defunct 46 chambers."

"I can see your point, now," the other man sighed softly, "and that's half the problem, I think. I agree and disagree with you." His reasons, perhaps, and his goal, but not his method. Never that. "Perhaps it's only that I'm soft-hearted, but I despise killing of any kind." He took a careful breath, tucking suddenly-cold hands inside his sleeves, hair slowly falling out of its pins around his face.

".. It chills me to think that I could so easily stand with you." He chuckled mirthlessly, glancing away. "It's good, I suppose, that I'm dying, then. I haven't the time or the heart for crusades."

The white-haired man rose to his feet, offering a polite nod and one of his gentle, trademark smiles. "Thank you for dinner, Sousuke-kun, and for explaining things to me. I.. think it's best that I return, now. I have a lot of things to consider." With a last, brief bow, he was turning away and leaving.

In scant moments, he was gone.

Aizen calmly watched him go, then got up and left his money on the table. Just as fast as Ukitake had left, so had he.