And Then They Were Five [Completed]

[godmodd.livejournal.com]

Character(s): Hinamori Momo, Ulquiorra, Okita Souji, Aizen Sousuke
Content: Aizen has found three interesting people and provides shelter for the night and information.
Setting: Matteus Museum of Art
Time: Late Sunday night
Warnings: The slimy sticky feeling of Aizen's evilness and plottings... You may need a shower.

He had never been a fan of the trains, especially when he easily had shunpo at his command, but Aizen truly doubted that some of their group could follow at such a speed. The ride was uneventful as expected and rather quite. All for the better then.

Aizen returned to find that that the museum laid the same way he left it, quiet and empty. He was a little curious as to where Ichimaru may be but he certainly hadn’t the time to look for the shinigami. Gin tended to wander from time and Aizen certainly was not his mother.

With head high as usual, Aizen led the other three into the lobby of the museum. “Welcome to the Matteus Museum of Art.” He turned to the trio. “Do any of you have any questions before I show you your rooms? I highly doubt anyone else is here tonight but that is only because I am not quite sure where Ichimaru has gone to.”

He was quite sure all three would be curious about Paixao and of course who else may be around. They were only lucky that Aizen had found them so soon.

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[tensai-okita01.livejournal.com]

"And this room is for you, Okita-kun."

As such, the young swordsman had not been paying attention. The darkened corridors that surrounded him bore no threat, but the memory of the bloodbath in the Ikedaya Incident had made itself clear in his mind. In fact, those corridors looked just like these, only without so much of the blood.

And speaking of blood, he knew it was coming. Ever since the first time he had coughed up blood, it had been coming intermittently, crimson splatters against a battle-roughened hand, hastily hidden before any of his men could see. It was a terrifying disease, but Okita Souji would not allow himself to dwell overmuch on it.

Except when it came, of course, and he was left staring down at the droplets of blood that stained his hand. The same disease took the lives of so many people, and the Miburo had known that he would be next.

He would not fall to the sword, but to a disease that ate him from inside out.

No, he thought desperately even as he felt the familiar tightening of his chest; it was only the beginning. Not now.

Unfortunately, diseases never discriminated. It would not spare the ones in it's deadly grasp, and Okita succumbed to a violent bout of coughing, his hand clamped over his mouth to muffle the sounds even as he doubled over, his lungs burning and clenching all at the same time. It was pure hell, the mere seconds becoming agonizing hours as he struggled not to cough his internal organs out.

And finally, it was over, the sudden attack leaving him momentarily off-balance. And there it was, the dark splatter of blood that seeped through the material of his handguard, and the familiar taste of blood in his mouth. The metallic tang that was in his mouth threatened to choke him, and he swallowed hard and clenched his fist, wiping at the telltale streak at the side of his mouth swiftly, hiding all the traces of the attack.

None of them needed to know that their newest guest was slowly dying.