Broken Cage

Chapter 4

Time meant nothing in this place as it had in the cell. It was an eternal night outside the windows; no breeze moved the sands to show a change. Just the ashen bone moon overlooking her world in a frozen radiance as it was every day.

His days flowed into the other of the same routine...

Rise with Momo, bath with her and be dressed in the clothes she picked. Seat and have tea with pancakes and reply to any of her questions she asked or nod to her words.

"Yes Momo"

"I am happy with you Momo

"I love you Momo"

"Thank you Momo"

It was the same. And those were what kept her happy, smiling. Keeping her smiling meant no pain.

Shiro then would be left on his own for the morning while his Keeper went off to do her work for Aizen-sama. She would leave him books to read, pictures of the living world. Talking how after the War they would go to this place and have ice cream. Books on fairy tales and a few on romance and simple stories, now and then one of the history of Japan or France or the one he enjoyed the most: Greece.

He asked for more books on Greece, "Why Shiro-Chan?" a bit taken he asked for something of her. "I like the stories...and buildings..." it was a simple plead in his voice. Patting his head like a dog, her smile was sentimental "You've been a good boy Shiro! So you can have more books on Greece!"

Now, she granted him time to move around the Las Noches. His collar would not let him go into all the rooms, yet he often went into the garden, sitting under a malformed white tree and opening the pages of a book. Then once more returns to the room and has dinner with Momo and sleep...

Life was a simple affair for Shiro, yet better than anything he recalled before those dark memories in the cell. Their dreams at times in his sleep, fragments of a yearning he could not name or images of people with the word of Captain always echo.

One of the faces would reflect in his mind's eye more than any other, silver cerulean eyes with a glint of a laugh at all times, full rose colored lips smirking, hair fine and long, honey colored under a warm sun. He knew her, often in the dream she was talking, saying the name he no longer had, yet her voice always faded away on waking to Momo.

Shiro did not tell her of these dreams, or of the woman that brought a feeling of familiarity with her image. His world was only supposed to be Momo and her voice and face, no one else's. Shiro learned that lesson all too well his days in the menacing cell, the blood dripping from his elfin back, and the burning of acid on the open wounds. Shuddering for a moment, he pushed those memories away.

Having gone outside for the day, the picture book of Greece temples and art lay open on his lap. No sounds reached this place, his heartbeat the only thing, knowing he existed in this place of hush. Shiro signed for a moment, closing the book and hugging it to his chest. That woman's face had popped up in his half dreams now, on the edges of his mind. He knew her and wanted to know who she was, he got the feeling she meant something to his life, a close bond. Yet how could that be? His world was Momo and Momo alone, he belong to her and her alone. Luminous emerald eyes sought the answer in the moon's cresting shape, yet she could not tell him.

"Well good evening Shiro-chan!" a light voice broke the young boys gazing, his eyes landing on a fox like man, smiling in his dictation. Gin Ichimaru waved at the boy, "How are we this evening?"

Something about the man always brought a strong disliking in the young man for odd reasons he dare not voice to anyone. Gin had never really touched him at all yet had watched that same fox smile always in place with his eyes hidden from the world. Licking his small lips, he lowered his gaze and spoke softly "Fine Gin-sama..." hoping it would be enough for the fox man to leave him alone and return back to Aizen-sama's side.

Gin frowned a bit at the young man's expression of his greeting, Shiro had changed much under the hands of Momo-chan in the following months, having no memory of who he once been. All the pride and fight was gone from the boy captain and left was a deplorable image of the shell he had been. "Glad to hear Shiro-chan, I must be going!"

Casting one more look back on the boy with his picture book, Gin only could shake his head in contempt just a bit. In a way missing the Shiro had known before the capture. ..yet he could have a bit of fun maybe. "Shiro, could you maybe go and run to get something for me out of one of the rooms."

Looking up for a moment, surprise splash over his face with a widen gaze at Gin. He never had asked him anything before "Yes Sir?"

"I left my note book behind I need for a meeting with Aizen-sama, could you go down the hall here about four doors and get it for me. It's black so you couldn't miss it in this place." He smiled at the small joke made or the truth of it.

Nodding, the boy bowed and walked past the man into the hall way. Counting the doors of the rooms as he walked by them as he went down the hall way. Shiro came the forth door and opened it yet froze in his place. This was a practice room with weapons, Aizen had told him he could not enter into rooms like this! Swallowing his fear, he didn't want to be punished again! But he could also be punished for getting the note book for Gin-sama. Making a list ditch choice, if Gin asked him to get the book it had to be ok then right?

It was matted by reeds and the color in the whole place was a runny tan in the sea of white of the place. It was a large space with bamboo targets set up wearing black cloth over their bodies of straw. His eyes looked around for the notebook, spotting the thing near the sword rack. Breathing deeply to stop his shaking, his feet padded soundless on the reeds. Shiro bent over to grab the papers; a bokken was lying over the thing. Sweat built on the tip of his brow, lightly touching the wooden blade as if it might bite him in spite. Picking the blade up, it was heavy in his tiny hands. Then something pulled at his mind, the once recalled only back in the cell. His hands grasped the hilt, perfectly as if he had known how to do it.

His brow once tense in a somewhat puzzled frown, had he handled a sword before? Most of his memories were lost in a haze of blood and whips, only Momo's voice was the thing he had held onto. It was the only sound in that sheathing silence of his cage, his link that let him he exist and lived in some shape.

Shiro swallowed his fear and swing the blade, his body followed through with the necessary movements. How could his body remember what he could not? Dropping the bokken, he reached for the book and ran out of the room. Fear biting all the way to his heels to Gin's open hands and smile.

During this little event, he had been watching

Studied by a pair of sharp eyes...