Bleach Anathema

A soft, cool evening breeze ruffled blond hair and sent a foxlike smile dancing over Hirako Shinji's face. It was a nice evening to be out, all things considered, even if it meant feeling Aizen's eyes on the back of his neck the whole time. With all the recent corpses found, bodies mangled and twisted as if caught in a meat grinder, though meat grinders rarely processed patchy-furred _things, _patrols had been stepped up around Seireitei. If it had been up to him, Shinji would've thrown a few Eleventh Sect morons around the fat cats' homes and called it a night. It was the middle of summer, for crying out loud! He was supposed to be at a party!

But at least the captain of the Fifth wasn't the only one missing a party. The captain and lieutenant of the Ninth were out too, along with the rest of their unit, and from what he'd heard the lieutenant of the Eighth, some guy from the Kido Corps, and those two captains with the weird hair, one looking like a pretty blonde girl from behind, as Shinji had learned the hard way, and the other sporting a dark Afro in stark contrast, were out too. The semi-official Midsummer's Eve celebration thrown every year for the bigwigs and the sunspots, as the upper brass of Shinji's organization were nicknamed, was going to be short a few people.

The Order of the Pure Sun. If someone had told Hirako Shinji that he'd be joining a group with such a pretentious name when he'd been a smart-ass brat barely past his fifteenth birthday, the blond would've laughed in their face. But then a man with flickering eyes had shown up at his school and claimed to be a government doctor, sent to immunize students from a potential pandemic. One appointment later, the man had looked very seriously at Shinji and informed him that he was one of the rare few bearing an immunity to turning into a creature straight out of legend.

At the time, the future hunter had actually laughed in the guy's face, only to be told that the school and government would be scheduling another session with Shinji. Ostensibly, it was to make sure he wasn't going to have an allergic reaction to the nonexistent vaccine, in actuality a placebo. The blond had suggested something rude to the 'doctor' for wasting his time and without missing a beat, the man had lit Shinji's sleeve on fire with a glare. If talk about centuries-old folklore hadn't gotten through to the blond, that had. And so it was that he'd found himself being shipped off to an island that wasn't on any maps to learn how to fight monsters, followed to his dismay by his violent pipsqueak of a third cousin a few years later.

Just under a decade and a half later, the prodigy was in command of one of the unorthodox divisions of the Order, a veteran hunter and ladies' man extraordinaire. Only by the leader of the Eighth Sect and his own second-in-command, a man seven years his senior named Aizen, was Shinji outmatched in the latter regard. The man who'd so easily scared the lazy smile off of Shinji's face all those years ago had turned out to be a small fry in the Order, worth more as a recruiter than as an actual fighter. That was okay_—_everybody had their uses, and if old Takahashi's had been to sniff out the next generation of hunter-witches, more power to him.

Shinji winced as he mistook a root for a shadow and nearly stumbled into a tree. Ever since last month's flu shots_—_that had always struck him as hilarious, people immune to a vicious blood-borne disease needing to be protected against strains of a relatively mild illness_—_the blond had been feeling like death warmed over. Thankfully that had begun to clear up, just as Aizen had predicted, that smug little know-it-all.

Never mind that his lieutenant acted neither smug nor superior. In fact, he'd managed to win over everyone except the guy who'd chosen him. Sneaky little bastard had to be planning something. Shinji was naturally suspicious of anyone that perfect and nice. Besides, if Aizen was who he claimed to be, then Shinji had chosen an excellent second-in-command and there was nothing to fear. If not, he'd be in a perfect position to get the guy's ass thrown in jail.

"Maa, it's so humid out here," the blond complained, rubbing his wrists. "We could plant water lilies around here, it's so wet. Just get rid of the maples, throw in a few lily pads. I bet they'd grow just fine."

"Just suck it up, Captain," the large-eared man walking a few paces to the left and front of Shinji grumbled. Poor guy had probably heard it a thousand times. "If you'd conform to the regulations about hair length, you wouldn't overheat so easily."

"Ah, shut it, Tachibana," he replied good-naturedly. One of the downsides to being one of the younger sect leaders was that most people felt free to be as informal with him as he was with them, even this group of rookies. "If they really cared about how long my hair is, I'd have gotten thrown into a barber's chair long ago. You just gotta be as good as me to get an exception."

"Hey, you didn't call me Nanase this time!" Tachibana said in surprise, prompting Shinji to do a double take. Sure enough, for once he'd been able to tell the two apart without squinting.

"Must be the carrots I snagged from that health-nut Abiko this afternoon," he commented. Shinji'd been craving something savory_—_beef tongue, or Korean-style barbecued chicken, something with substance_—_but carrots had been the only thing readily available, so carrots it was. The cheap bastards running the grocery store Shinji favored must've downsized their portions again, if he was getting hungry so easily. Ishibashi'd been whining just the other day about how high prices were. "Finally, my night vision's gettin' better. Now if only the heat would start gettin' better..."

"The length _is_ a touch impractical, Captain," Aizen chimed in quietly. "But if you're set on it, perhaps a hair tie would work? I know the leader of the Third Sect... what was his name again?"

"The lieutenant actually forgot something?" A stocky woman at the edge of the band exclaimed, sending everyone else chuckling. "That's gotta be a first. Otoribashi, that's his surname, I think."

"Captain Otoribashi, then. I know that he uses a hair tie, as do Captains Kyouraku and Ukitake." Aizen looked completely calm when Shinji sneaked a glance at him, but the same hint of irritation that crept into the man's voice when he reminded Shinji of a meeting for the twelfth time had infiltrated Aizen's voice. And was that a hint of impatience he heard for a change? Usually the captain of the Fifth was the impatient one. Honestly, if Unohana, formidable director of the medics, hadn't already had Yamada for an assistant, Aizen would've made a great adherent to their doctrine of healing and purifying the body, unique among the sects of the Order. The rest mainly stuck to various martial interpretations of the Order's mission: to cleanse the world of its dark inhumanity through the light of its trained hunters. Or so the official line went. A pretentious load of steaming horseshit in the blond's opinion, but a job was a job and he'd come to learn that there was no room for idealism and optimism in this line of work.

"Then I guess I'll just have ta find one when I get back." Shinji sighed, wiping some sweat off of his forehead. Looked like he wasn't quite over his illness.

A few minutes passed before he started up again. "Okay, I know I sound like a broken record here, but it can't be this hot. Seriously, I'm practically getting chills, I want out of the heat so bad."

A breeze ruffled the leaves around them as the unit stepped out of the woods and onto a path. The blond exhaled blissfully as he tilted his head back to survey the dusky sky above them, the last vestiges of sunlight leaving the landscape. The moon had been hanging in the sky for a few hours already, fat and full but outshone by its daytime counterpart and the clouds covering it more often than not.

Shinji threaded his way through his unit, taking the lead as they began to near the completion of their patrol. It was time to get this damned uniform off already. The precautions taken against bites were overkill by his estimation. They were immune already, so who needed something that breathed so badly? It had pockets, at least.

"Ah, it looks as if the clouds are beginning to part. Everything is at its end, or perhaps its beginning," Aizen murmured, just loud enough to be heard by Shinji.

Tachibana looked at his lieutenant askance. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You don't need to know." Something about Aizen had shifted abruptly, his usual prim posture becoming one of confidence, chest sticking out slightly and stance firming. The peculiar expression that seemed to have seized the brunet's features sent the corners of his mouth twitching up slightly, eyes alight with an emotion that Shinji thought was glee but had no place here.

He had gone cold, that was it. It was as if Aizen had frozen, untouchable as a glacier, smooth and pale as ice, but still pressing inexorably onwards. A chill raced up Shinji's spine, though why he would be afraid of this man was beyond him.

Sure enough, as the captain of the Fifth glanced up, the clouds were peeling away from the moon, drifting off to the corners of the sky. Silvery light spilled out over the treetops, spreading dim dappled patterns over the ground.

Shinji had just stepped off of the path and back into the shadows of the trees when it began. The last tinges of sunlight left the world just as the final scraps of cloud covering the silver disk in the sky cleared away, splashing shadows and pale color over his forehead. A fiery pain seized the blond's body, prompting a hiss of air to escape from Shinji's lips as he leaned against the nearest tree to wait for it to pass. It was as if a colony of fire ants had set up residence in his body, tiny needles of pain skittering up and down his body as if the little insects were swarming and biting him.

"Captain? What is it?" Aizen asked softly, maliciously. Suddenly every bit of Shinji was screaming at him to run from the mild voice behind him, to run from the quizzical looks fixed on his back.

"Fine," Shinji managed, straightening and taking a few mincing steps forwards. "Let's get goin'." After a few seconds, they followed the blond as he vanished into the woods, anxious to reach the checkpoint.

It wasn't done. The burning pain setting his every sense alight was forgotten as Shinji picked his way down a rocky incline, heedless of the fact that his pace had quickened and left his unit behind, and felt daggers sink themselves into his mouth. The taste of iron and salt filled his mouth as blood spurted from a dozen sources. A strangled, gurgling scream escaped the blond, who spit bloody bits of bone from his mouth. There was no time to stare in horror at the loss of most of his teeth, the rest floating in a pool of blood in his mouth, as now the daggers stabbed again and prompted another cry of pain.

Shinji raised a hand to cover his mouth, pulling back at an unfamiliar texture to stare at his hand. Behind his lips, splitting pains were wracking his jaw, inexplicable smooth, hard objects pushing downwards. In front of his very eyes, the hair on his hand was prickling, moving, and the tips of his fingers looked as if something was pushing out beneath the skin, increasingly uncomfortable pressure building in them and in his toes.

"Wha...what the hell?" The blond mumbled, disbelieving. "Tha'sh not—Agh!"

Knives had pierced his fingers from the inside, or at least it felt that way. Blunt, inch-long claws erupted from the tender skin. The stabbing pains in his feet signaled the same development, claws pressing painfully against the insides of his boots, dangerously close to tearing the toes of the boots.

Shinji dropped to the ground swiftly, leaning against a tree and fumbling to get the shoes off with fingers that felt increasingly clumsy and swollen, an entirely foreign sensation for the normally graceful man.

"Doeshn't make any shenshe," he slurred, spitting out more blood and teeth. This was like one of those nightmares he'd had back in school the night before presentations.

"Captain! Captain Hirako!" Nanase–no, that was Tachibana, wasn't it?—called, voice sending a thrill of panic through Shinji. He had to run, had to get away from that voice, even if he didn't know why. The reason didn't matter much through the pain cracking his skull apart.

Shinji shoved himself to his feet, managing one stumbling step forwards before the claws on his feet shoved through the toes of the boots, bringing blood with them. His hand wasn't fast enough to muffle the scream of pain that tore its way out of his mouth.

"Captain?" Aizen, far too close and far too calm. The blond staggered as fast as he could in the opposite direction. _What the hell's going on?_ He asked himself, scrambling to find an answer somewhere in that supposedly genius brain of his. This didn't just happen!

A briar-strangled branch came up far too suddenly in Shinji's mad, uneven flight into the woods and he reached out blindly, spots dancing across his vision and blood roaring in his ears. To his faint surprise it didn't hurt, but the viselike pressure that flared in his feet certainly did. If it had been tight before, now Shinji's feet were being crushed.

Thick, dark flesh was forming on his palms and soles, expanding out against the already unforgiving shoes. Shinji toppled over with a shuddering groan, trying to drag himself forwards until a spasm of pain twisted his arms. Now as he lay sprawled out over the dirt and leaves, the captain of the Fifth could see the source of the agony. His muscles were twitching and growing, doubling in size and warping beneath his skin. Fair, thin hair had thickened and lengthened, curling over his forearms and the backs of his hands.

Soft footsteps sounded behind the blond. Aizen's. He was the only one who walked as if ready to spring at you any second.

Shinji whirled, arms shaking as he lifted himself from the forest floor. "Aishen!" He yelled, any attempt to conceal the growing deformities discarded. "You...what ish thish?!"

"That's not for you to know either, Captain Hirako," the brunet chastised. "Just know that your tenure as the leader of this sect is coming to an end and mine is beginning. Your endurance is impressive, though. I'm surprised that you've managed to keep your form this long. Kaname tells me that your friends are not faring as admirably, in particular that girl... Haruhi, was it?"

"Hi-Hiyori," Shinji grunted, panting as the rippling of his muscles continued up his shoulders, shoving bones and joints out of place and prompting gasps of pain. White-faced, the rest of Aizen's words processed in his mind. "What did you do to her, freak?"

"I'm afraid that to tell you that, I would have to tell you what I had already said I would not reveal. But if you're looking to point fingers at a freak, perhaps I can direct your attention towards yourself? If you're curious, I make a habit of carrying a mirror with me," Aizen said, unbuttoning one of the larger pockets and removing a rectangular object. He bent down slightly, a revoltingly cruel smile seizing features that looked meant for gentleness. "To see you in this state... none would call you human." Aizen turned the mirror towards Shinji, who shoved himself backwards, away from what it showed.

Thick, creamy gold fur was creeping up his neck, looking as if it had been doing so unnoticed for quite some time. Sweat poured down the paper-white skin that was still unclaimed by the advancing blond coat. Behind him, the lower legs of the uniform and its boots gave way with the sound of ripping fabric. It was no mean feat to do that, either, reinforced as the uniform was to protect its wearer.

The skin of Shinji's face looked as if it was pulled taut over the skull beneath. His brow was sloping downwards, the lower half of his face pushing out as bones ground together loudly. The bloodshot, barely focused eyes staring out of that distorted face were feral amber, not his own cool brown.

The face in Aizen's mirror was not Hirako Shinji's face. It was an impossible face, one that went against everything he'd been told and everything he knew. A werewolf well into its transformation grimaced back at him.

"I'm...immune," the blond croaked, vocal cords lengthening and beginning to stiffen. The creature in front of him mimicked his movements, exposing growing fangs covered in flesh and blood as it spoke.

"Your friends were as well. Because of your inability to be close to me, because of the pride that would not allow you to work past your suspicions or even give a passing thought to the true nature of your progressing condition, their minds and bodies have been lost to lycanthropy from which they will not emerge. Their former comrades lie torn and bleeding on the ground because of you." Aizen drew a knife from another pocket as he let the mirror fall to the ground. It gleamed dull silver in the moonlight as he pulled back one sleeve. The thin edge of the blade hovered just above his skin.

Behind the brunet, footsteps were crashing through the underbrush. His entire frame shrieking in pain, Shinji pushed himself to his feet again with the aid of a nearby rock and then a stump.

_I've got to run, figure out what the hell's going on. This can't—it isn't—_

Once again, he could only make it a few steps before it became physically impossible to walk normally. The bestial, half-clothed captain slammed into a tree as his spine and legs rebelled at the bipedal stance. His nose had begun to shrink and darken into a wolflike one, keen and rough.

"How interesting. Heightened emotions accelerate the transformation," Aizen remarked softly. "Though the dewclaws haven't—ah, there." Spurs burst through the soft skin of Shinji's forearms, prompting a whimper of pain from the blond's strained vocal cords, cutting out as they stiffened completely and rendered him incapable of speech. Long experience had taught Shinji that the dewclaws of a werewolf were far different from those of a normal wolf, designed so it could cut itself and spread the curse with its blood, and the pain of their emergence was easily on par with that of the claws.

A stabbing pain at the base of his spine signaled the beginning of a tail. As the loud footsteps behind Aizen came to a sudden halt, his undershirt and shirt were reduced to scraps, fur nearly overrunning his torso by now. The loud cracks of ribs breaking to reform and contain the shifting muscles were all Shinji could hear beyond the grinding of his skull, followed by those of his legs as they bent entirely the wrong way. The tears that had blurred his already spotty vision spilled out, making salty tracks in the fur growing up his face. Long hanks of hair lay in clumps around the blond, replaced by a wolf's pelt.

"That's—!" Someone's voice blurted out.

"Can't be, you moron! We've got to kill it! Captain Hirako's probably already planning an ambush!" Tachibana declared.

Despite himself, at the sound of his name Shinji turned to look at them. Already scared and uncertain, identically disgusted and horrified expressions took their places on his subordinates' faces as they put the pieces together, seeing those human features not yet submerged beneath a monster's. His attempt to tell them to get away came out as little more than shrill whines and hoarse grunts. The captain of the Fifth's grip on a low tree branch began to slip as hands and feet became paws, nails gouging the bark.

"The _fuck _i-is going on?!" One of the women stammered, reaching for a weapon that wasn't there. Who needed to fight on a routine patrol, after all?

"Don't be presumptuous. Captain Hirako can hardly be expected to think straight in this state. He has served his purpose and you must serve yours," Aizen said. In a swift, fluid motion, the brunet brought his knife to bear on the palm of his opposite hand, squeezing that hand into a fist and smearing the resulting blood on his subordinates before they could cry out. "Give me time to report this beast to the Central 46 with your deaths in its jaws. The blood of prey makes a powerful pull for the strong."

The final changes came in a rush as the evening breeze carried the scent of blood to Shinji. The weight of a full tail hung behind him, a final twisting of his spine forcing the blond onto all fours. Two-inch fangs filled a mouth completely elongated into a snout. Shell-like human ears extended into a wolf's.

Shinji had only a second more to meet the eyes of his shaking comrades before the last and greatest transformation was wrought upon him. This one, at least, was over in the space of a second.

As if a sledgehammer had struck him full in the head, a crushing pain filled the blond's mind and the world became blank silence.


End file.
