Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Seireitei Monogatari ❯ The Duality of a Man ( Chapter 119 )

Title: The Duality of a Man

Pairings: Stark/Kira (onesided?), mentions of others

Rating: T

Warning: boy/boy affections, language, spoilers

Words: 2134

Description: Vaguely related to 118. Izuru was the sort of conundrum that made a man want to peel back the layers, to find the truth behind his mask.

 

Dedication: For Yakumo, who wanted a Stark/Kira pairing.

 

 

Stark thought that it was probably his eyes - so broken and yet so strong.

 

From the moment Ichimaru-sama had introduced Izuru to them, Stark had been captivated by those eyes. They drew him in, hypnotized him, until he couldn't ignore Izuru. Not even if he tried.

 

He knew this because Stark had actually made an attempt to do that very thing. In the beginning, he put as much distance between himself and Izuru as possible. He didn't want to think about the consequences of touching what was precious to Ichimaru-sama. And it had been easy enough, considering Izuru rarely left his captain's side. Following him around, looking perfectly sorrowful and content all at once.

 

Stark hadn't known such duality in emotion were possible until he met Izuru. The Shinigami had the oddest talent of managing to convey two feelings at once, smiling with eyes of sadness. Hints of longing mixed with loathing. Strength wrapped in a facade of weakness.

 

And it was his eyes that were the best at this, looking so hopelessly lost and desperately determined. It was the sort of conundrum that made a person want to peel back the layers, to find the truth behind those double emotions.

 

His avoiding, however, hadn't been enough. His thoughts were magnetically drawn to the quiet blond, and somehow, he had ended up as Izuru's guide to life in Las Noches. He still wasn't sure how that happened. Ichimaru's smirk as he all but pushed Izuru in Stark's direction was pretty telling, too. He never would understand that guy.

 

From there, they had become friends of a sort. Izuru was a truly pleasant person, intelligent and charming. And Stark couldn't really dislike him the same way he disliked the Shinigami. In fact, Izuru rarely addressed himself as one, and he all too eagerly changed into Aizen's choice of outfit for him. Which didn't help Stark's interest much as Izuru looked so damned cute in it.

 

Even so, with all the time they spent together, should Ichimaru call for him at any moment, Izuru was quick to excuse himself. It was pretty damn clear that the only person he needed or wanted was his precious captain.

 

And those eyes, they always looked to Ichimaru and only to Ichimaru. Every time Izuru was summoned, Stark could see Ichimaru glance back at him. As if mocking him for an interest he hadn't realized was so obvious. He hadn't realized Ichimaru to be that cruel. To practically throw Izuru at him and then steal him back time and time again, just to taunt the Espada with something he shouldn't bother desiring.

 

It wasn't like Stark hadn't already known he shouldn't try. He had made every attempt to chase Izuru from his thoughts. But he dreamt of those eyes. At night. During the day. All the time. He saw them in his sleep and when he was awake. He would unconsciously search for Izuru at mealtimes or when he wandered Las Noches. It was an obsession, almost as bad as Ulquiorra's recent fixation on the Kurosaki brat.

 

And without realizing, he began to dislike Ichimaru, even more than he had before. There had always been something about the man that set him on edge, shot a shiver of unease down his spine. The way he crept out of the shadows and seemed to mock everyone with that damned grin. The only person he respected was Aizen, and it showed.

 

Stark had been surprised to find that someone actually respected Ichimaru. As far as he knew, none of the Arrancar liked him either. And yet, the former captain had appeared with this beautiful blond randomly on his arm, and not only did this kid not seem to mind, his eyes held a mixture of emotions for his captain. Adoration. Longing. And something else seething beneath the surface, something more negative.

 

Stark wasn't sure what to think.

 

Either way, the more he watched Izuru, the more Izuru watched Ichimaru. And it bothered him. It took weeks for Stark to realize just exactly what the poisonous feeling growing inside of him was. Jealousy, that green beast, growing stronger with each passing day.

 

It became suddenly clear that he what wanted was for Izuru to look at him and only him. For the gaze that Ichimaru possessed and seemed to care nothing about. Stark wanted it to fall on him. He wanted Izuru's regard to be his and his alone.

 

He quickly learned, however, that while he could be Izuru's friend, it was incredibly difficult to monopolize his attention. In fact, it was damn near impossible to shift his attentions away from Ichimaru and onto anyone else. Not that Stark didn't try. But he couldn't understand what it was about Ichimaru that Izuru admired. Why he would follow this man, who no one else even liked.

 

Despite himself, confusion turned to a desire to know, and the question slipped out before he could entirely stop him. Surprising him as much as it perplexed Izuru.

 

“What's so special about him?” Stark demanded suddenly, voice echoing around the cold loneliness of Hueco Mundo's vast desert.

 

Las Noches was only a burst of sonido away, a white structure looming against the black. Stark felt confined within those walls, and when he wasn't sleeping, he liked to roam away from all the white and the fake blue sky that could never be a match for the real one.

 

Perched on the ground below him, leaning against the rock that served as the Espada's perch, Izuru blinked. “What do you mean, Stark-san?”

 

“I'm talking about Ichimaru.” Stark folded his arms behind his head, gaze momentarily locked on the single pallid moon. “Why is he so worthy of your admiration?” His eyes shifted down to look at the back of Izuru's head, at the graceful curve of his pale neck, bared slightly by his position.

 

Izuru tilted his head to the side, giving Stark a glimpse of the side of his face and the faint flush that stained his cheeks. “I'm not sure if I would call it admiration.”

 

“What would you call it then?”

 

Stark really couldn't explain this desperate desire to know. He assumed it was connected to that odd need to make Izuru his own, that strange fixation. If he could understand, maybe he could find some way to break this connection. Perhaps that was his logic.

 

“Hmm.” A serious sense filled their conversation, where it was usually light and cheery. “Not quite love but not quite hate either. I owe taichou very much.”

 

If that wasn't vague, Stark wasn't sure what actually was. “For what?”

 

Another long pause, as though Izuru had to think deeply about it. He caught the gleam in Izuru's eyes, one that shifted so quickly from one emotion to the next. It was almost fond, but it was also despised.

 

The faintest of smiles tugged at his lips, Izuru's fingers plucking at the white fabric of his hakama. “Everything.”

 

Stark furrowed his brow, wishing he had some sort of translation guide. “Is that why you followed him here?”

 

“Yes and no.”

 

He carefully tucked a strand of blond hair behind his ear. Stark thought it was such a shame he hid behind those long locks. He should consider cutting it.

 

“I can't stay with the Shinigami anymore. I don't belong there.”

 

“But you belong here. With him.” He tried - and failed - to remove the distaste from his voice. The more time he spent with Izuru, the more he learned to hate Ichimaru. Much of Izuru's existence seemed to be based on the Shinigami traitor, and Stark couldn't stand that. In fact, he loathed it and by proxy Ichimaru.

 

Izuru didn't answer his question. Admittedly, it was a rude query. Stark didn't press since that would have likely driven Izuru away. Besides, he didn't like the expression on Izuru's face, one of mixed discomfort and relief. He wished he could understand him.

 

Sighing, Stark sat up on his rock, rubbing his hand over the back of his head. “I don't understand, Kira.”

 

“Izuru.”

 

He hesitated. “Huh?” Ever so eloquent. Sometimes, Stark surprised himself.

 

Izuru shifted around to look at him, those eyes for once meeting his. “You can call me Izuru. If you want, Stark-san. We're friends, aren't we?”

 

It was almost shaming that his first thought was a sense of inestimable pride at that offer. The only other person in Hueco Mundo who called him that was Ichimaru, and he always made it sound cutesy. Degrading. And yet, Izuru never protested, just endured and enjoyed the attention.

 

Still, the fact that Izuru had called him a friend was valuable, too.

 

“Only if you drop the honorific.”

 

Izuru winced, almost as if it would pain him to do so. “Very well,” he agreed, rising to his feet with a graceful motion. His hands casually swiped bits of sand from his clothes.

 

Grinning, Stark slid down from his rock with a lazy stretch of his arms and an audible popping of the bones in his back. “See? I'm not so bad, am I?”

 

“I never said you were.”

 

He scratched at his goatee. “True. But you only ever have eyes for Ichimaru.”

 

Honestly, he hadn't met to say that, but it slipped out before he could stop it. Smooth-talking Stark always stumbled over himself around Izuru. He couldn't understand why.

 

“Does it seem like that?” Izuru asked.

 

And suddenly, Stark realized that Izuru was looking at him in that moment. Only him. There was no one else around.

 

It was just the two of them in this lonely expanse, surrounded by bleached sands, an abysmal sky, and a rock. He wondered why in all his gazing he'd never noticed the exact shade of Izuru's eyes. Or just how direct they could be, staring both at and through him without hesitation.

 

He didn't really know what he was doing. But Stark moved closer, and Izuru either expected nothing or didn't realize what the Espada was doing either.

 

“Yeah, it does,” he answered, and without warning, without any real plan in mind, Stark leaned down the few inches necessary to close the distance between them. He hovered for all of a second in indecision before pressing his lips over Izuru's, kissing him gently.

 

Izuru didn't resist, and Stark didn't give time to respond either before he was pulling back. Part of him felt a bit embarrassed by the abrupt action.

 

“But maybe not so much anymore,” he added, trying to cover up the sudden thunderous beat of his heart. Was it nerves? Had he been anxious?

 

As always, Stark wasn't sure what to think.

 

He shoved his hands in his pockets, attempting nonchalance as he turned away from Izuru, body pointed towards Las Noches. He almost didn't want to see the look in those eyes, certain there would be duality. Interest and disgust? Anger and happiness? Or worse, nothing at all. No reaction because he wasn't Ichimaru and only Ichimaru mattered. He was a coward, afraid to look.

 

“It's getting colder. We should probably head inside.” The brief brush of cool air was merely an excuse. Foregoing sonido, he thought he would walk to the door.

 

Yet, he received no answer from Izuru. The former Shinigami was noticeably quiet, not that he was usually a talkative fellow.

 

Stark paused, turning to glance over his shoulder. His eyes widened at the sight of Izuru, fingertips to his lips and staring at the white sand. The small blush on his cheeks was quite endearing, making Stark's heart do that annoying loud beat again.

 

“Izuru?”

 

Damn, it felt good to just say his name.

 

He startled and glanced up, as if suddenly realizing just where he was. “Yes, I'm coming.” He trotted forward a few steps to catch up to Stark, who was watching him closely.

 

“Just so you know,” Stark said, telling himself that he really was more composed than this as he started back towards Las Noches. “That was me telling you that I like you.”

 

“I noticed.”

 

He didn't look but knew Izuru was watching him again. He could feel the weight of the blond's gaze.

 

Suddenly, Stark felt a bit like laughing. It was a perfectly Izuru response, not quite accepting but dismissing either. Acknowledged and nothing more. He didn't know whether he should be relieved or disappointed, contradictory responses.

 

Maybe Izuru was rubbing off on him.

 

- - - - -

 

a/n: This one went everywhere and nowhere, and then, I left you on a cliffhanger. Hah. What am I going to do with myself?