A/N: first bleach fic, and I hope I did alright. Sorry if Shinji is a little out of character.

I own nothing but plot.

He sat, arms and legs crossed and a scowl on his lips. He was brooding, skulking as he often did in the late hours of the night. The abstract towers of his inner-world were the only things around him (as far as his internal vision sensed), as he sat contemplating the nightmare he'd retreated from, seeking shelter within his own mindscape. Shelter that Ichigo certainly wasn't going to ever find there.

"Welcome back, your majesty." rang out the semi-sarcastic greeting as the berry's cool chocolate eyes met the mocking amber of his porcelain counterpart. "Don't be such a sore loser, aibou. Let's see some emotion on yer face, ya worthless downer! Look what yer doin' to the damn place, I can't stand it." The incessant rain pelted even harder against the duo's faces at that comment. Ichigo stared forward, eyes blank and empty, void of emotion. The white apparition stalked toward the sulking figure with obvious annoyance. "Oi! Look at me at least, damnit aibou! I'm not about at have ya' underestimate me! Baka ne!" When Ichigo further refused to make even the slightest attempt at a response, the ivory demon lifted a white finger to the tan skin of the shinigami's chin, and let his ebony nail press into the teen's flesh with no small amount of force. An angry red mark stayed behind when the hollow removed his finger, and proceeded to snatch Ichigo off of the side of the tower in a harsh grasping of the boy's face. Ichigo barely even glared, when suddenly the pale darkness grew desperate. He lifted the boy higher, before carelessly tossing him to the side, and watching the teen's limp body decimate the towers. Ichigo's brown eyes only had time to register the initial shock before the hollow was before him again.

"You bas-" Ichigo spluttered out before-

"What's wrong with ya', aibou? I don' like bein' ignored by my own aibou!" Yes, my own king. Only mine. Trailed off the hollow's thoughts. He'd be the one to fix the teen's mood, him and no one else. Shirosaki twisted the white sword that he'd impaled Ichigo with when he'd sonido'd over to his "king". Ichigo groaned in pain, and finally snapped out of his melancholy state as the realization of what just happened hit him in the face, quite literally. The strawberry teen stared at the snow colored hand in shock. Shiro unleashed a crazed laugh of such deadly caliber that a deaf person's ears would bleed from the affronting sound. Shiro twisted the sword again, and then withdrew it from Ichigo's torso. Ichigo unleashed a torrent of swear words, and put a hand to the gash, feeling the pooling blood seep through his fingers in a repulsively beautiful display of oozing crimson. Shiro laughed again. "That all ya got, aibou?"

"You bastard!" Ichigo sprang forward, only to realize that his shihakushoô was fading to match his pale double's, as though the obsidian fabric was slowly bleaching itself of color. Ichigo felt Shiro's cool hand on his cheek.

"My aibou."

Ichigo's eyes snapped open and he literally jumped out the bed he'd been occupying. A pair of familiar eyes stared at him in concern. The blonde's piano-key grin was a soothing balm to Ichigo's frayed nerves. The vizard leader let his searching gaze roam over the teen, before nodding as the strawberry brushed it off as a nightmare. The blonde ex-captain tossed the teen his zanpakuto stating that the others were waiting in the training room. The two of them went down, and preceded through the average, normal routine of Hiyori beating the teen with her sandal as Ichigo attempted to maintain his masked form. As he reformed the accursed thing over his face for another round, however, he heard that familiar voice reverberate through the back of his skull.

"Lemme out aibou! I'll knock that condescendin' look righ' off o' that brat's face fer ya, easy as tha'." Ichigo mentally cursed that all too familiar double toned voice.

Dammit hollow! You're already manifested as that mask, and that's all your gonna get. I won't lose to you! Ichigo mentally responded. That moment's distraction allowed Hiyori to leave a series of throbbing welts across the annoyed teen's face.

"Yer worthless, aibou! Even after I supply ya my power you still get yer ass handed to ya by this brat! Wha' do ya think yer doin', usin' my power to get yer ass kicked like this?" Ichigo felt the enshrouding of the protective reiatsu as his inner hollow ensnared him in a selfish embrace of spiritual power. Hiyori was suddenly still, combating with the weight of the enormous change in spirit power. "Where woul' ya be without me, aibou? Always the faithful horse to rescue the stubborn king… Ya really should listen to me more, aibou." Ichigo felt the yanking sensation in his soul. The hollow forced the teen into their inner world where Shiro was already holding Ichigo from behind, a hand planted firmly on the boy's chest, circling around in harsh caress. The hollow leaned so his face was level with Ichigo's ear, and proceeded to begin whispering promises of victory and bloodshed. His hand stopped circling Ichigo's chest, only to impale the teen with a flash of pure ivory and ebony nails. Ichigo cried out in pain and attempted to combat the spreading of the gaping hole that had formed in his chest. Shiro's promises grew more enticing with each passing second, as Ichigo found himself struggling less and agreeing more. The voice cooing in his ear began to soften possessively. "Good aibou, yes listen to me. Only to me. We will win, I'll protect you, just give in to me. We can succeed against any opponent, and I will lead us on to victory, my aibou." Ichigo shivered as the hollow wrapped his pale arms around the teen's form, and calmly relaxed into the hollow's embrace. The hollow unleashed a bout of manic laughter, and Ichigo laughed with it, no longer caring about the now complete hole in his chest, or the mask that covered his face even in his own mind. He felt Shiro push him roughly back into their body, and zero in his vision so that the teen was staring straight at Hiyori. "Listen to yer instincts, aibou. Kill."

Ichigo found himself in a familiar situation, his hand was wrapped tightly around Hiyori's throat, except this time was different. This time he'd been the one in control. He'd willingly begun to strangle the vizard, to choke the very life, the very air from her lungs as her body convulsed in his ever tightening grasp. What scared the teen the most was that he wanted more. It felt good.

"Yes, aibou. Kill." Ichigo tightened his grip, then sensing Shinji behind him, the teen threw the tiny vizard at the leader. Shinji caught Hiyori as Ichigo charged him. Shinji carefully withdrew his zanpakuto and swung the kiseki (tip of the blade) at Ichigo, aiming for the hollow mask. Shinji successfully hit his mark, and the mask shattered in a wave of violent white shards before Ichigo's eyes faded back to white and chocolate brown. Shinji let out a relieved sigh, and grinned as an attempt to alleviate the tension that had built in the large underground room. Ichigo's eyes dulled, and the teen's legs gave out causing Ichigo to fall forward. Shinji worriedly rushed forward to check on him, deciding as he moved forward to do something very risky. He put his hand on the teen's head, brushing back tawny hair in a show of friendly affection before chanting a healing kidou. Shinji then proceeded to massage the teen's forehead as his eyes glazed in worry. He began chanting a kidou that was never used by soul society for reasons that were all too obvious.

Shinji blinked and then his surroundings changed. He'd successfully entered Ichigo's inner world; a feat few could claim to achieve. The skewed gravity and sideway towers were slightly amusing to the vizard, and his piano key grin grace his lips once again. He turned around to look for the battered teen, sensing the boy's reiatsu next to two others'. He drew nearer, and familiar voices echoed out to his eager ears.

"I can't believe you made me do that! You make me sick!" Ichigo's denial rang out in clear revulsion.

"I did'n make ya do anything', aibou. I jus' whispered a lil' encouragemen', an' ya did the res' yerself, king. An' don' even try at tell me ya didn' enjoy it, I saw the ecstasy 'n yer eyes, aibou." Shinji blanched. Aibou? And the hollow just called Ichigo its king? He couldn't make sense of it. Partner end king? He decided to stay back and watch a while longer.

"No, I'm not like you! I can't be like that, I'm not… I'm not…" Ichigo trailed off, his words sounded weak even to him. Shiro lightly placed his pale white forefinger on the strawberry's lips, effectively hushing the onslaught of mixed confusing emotions that circled the teen's head.

"Don' try ta fool yerself, aibou. I know better than ta believe tha'." He gently caressed Ichigo's face with an ivory thumb, obsidian nail scratching the teen's cheek in a possessive manner. "Ya enjoyed it as much, er' more than I did, kingy." He stepped closer before sensing the blonde vizards presence and turning. "What do ya' want, piano face?" He spat with a deep-rooted malice.

"I'm just checkin' up on my friend, nothin' that concerns ya." The blonde took no offense at the jibe, and gave his typical grin.

"It does concern me if my aibou's involved. I gotta protec' my thin's so tha' no one else takes 'em away from me!" Shiro placed his hand on Ichigo's shoulder as a warning, flashing his own manic smirk with his cruelly pointed teeth bared. Ichigo shivered and glared hatefully at his white counter-part.

"Dammit Shiro I don't want you to protect me! I can protect myself!"

"Che', you couldn't even protect that lil' girlfriend of yers. Ori… Orihime right? Aww the King can't even protect his special princess." Shiro laughed at Ichigo's expression, and pulled the teen closer to his side.

"Oh dear, lets not start an argument for my sake; besides, one Ichigo is enough to deal with. If ya both'll be quiet for a minute, and answer all my questions I'll leave ya both to it. Then ya can argue all ya want, alright?" Shinji smiled his piano key smile, and masked his concern for Ichigo, so as to not appear as a threat.

Suddenly old man Zangetsu stood near the group, with his blank, emotionless features and monotone voice. "Exactly what is going on here?"

A/N-Felt I should end it here. I don't know where I'm going with his, so ideas are appreciated. Criticism is fine if it's constructive, and that's it.