Title: Just another mask
Characters: Urahara Kisuke, Aizen Sousuke, and someone else
Entry Line: "We all wear our masks."
Contest: The third Bleach omake contest.
About: Third entry I made. Sometimes, these things just write themselves, and leave us shivering. I'm not sure how this came into being, but I think it's pretty cool.

A human, from the moment he can recognize another human or spiritual being, will begin to form a mask. Throughout his life, he'll create many masks, one or more for every other human that he'll meet. Strip down every single mask he's created, and all you'll find is the knowledge a shell has accumulated over his life, and nothing more.

That is not to say, that there isn't some sort of core within him driving what he is, a soul, if you wish to call it such. A soul is the one true truth that deep inside a person believes in regards to others and himself. One true truth to direct many of that human's masks.

And yet, for one true truth, a human will not always follow it. He is, after all, a human. The accumulation of his entire being, is a hundred, no, a thousand, no, a million, no...really, the accumulation is as many masks as there are souls in the world, and perhaps even more. And just one soul.

Is it quite so strange...that with so many masks to wear...that sometimes...just sometimes... he simply believes the one true truth to be nothing but another mask?

Is it quite so strange...that sometimes...sometimes is often? That sometimes, sometimes is usually? That sometimes...sometimes is rarely? That sometimes...sometimes is entirely too many things all at once?

As long as he gathers knowledge, any sort of knowledge, as long as he has the presence of mind to be able to use it in an infinite number of ways...can you expect anything else?

This is what it means to be human. To be a ghost. To be a hollow. To be a gillian, an adjuchas, a vasto lorde, a shinigami, a vizard, an arrancar, a mod soul and so many others.

They are all truths wrapped in masks, though...there are, to be fair... differences in how those masks are worn, and how their truths exist.

Some examples, I believe I shall give you. I shall start simply, for what I have to say will surely confuse you. If it has not already, that is. I apologize, but I would be most happy if you are thoroughly confused. But let us move onto those examples, and not think on why I would wish you to be perplexed.

A human is a truth wrapped by masks made flesh.

A ghost is a truth wrapped by masks made spirit.

A hollow is a truth wrapped so deeply by an underterminate amount of the worst of his masks, you cannot even see the masks made spirit underneath those other masks. All that you can see is a frightening mask of death, if you can even see anything at all. It is a truth lost within its masks.

A shinigami is a truth split into two perfectly interlocking pieces of truth that never truly interlock. One of these pieces is, essentially a ghost. A piece of the truth wrapped by masks made spirit. The other piece is raw truth... not -the- truth, you must understand, merely a part of it. It is a voice that resonates within the shinigami only as strongly as the shinigami wishes to let it, and strangely enough, only once the sword has begun to create masks with which to reach out for its other half. He is contradictory being, where one half of him must create masks to be heard even though it was made to listen, and the other half must strip them so he can listen even though it was made to speak.

A vizard is even more contradictory than a shinigami. He too has two interlockable pieces of truth. The masks between them acts as a strong bridge between both pieces, but they are a toll bridge, one that comes at a price. A vizard is truth on a scale, tittering on edge from both sides. He is a truth that sacrifices the interlocking components of itself to the lies. He is a half-truth. He is a truth with a convinient mask to put on and take of whenever he wishes to delude to himself that he is being true to himself or excuse himself when needing to blame something for not being so.

An arrancar is the truest of beings and the falsest of beings. He is a being of many truths, that has accepted a mask as truth, and weilds his truths as masks. How strange that must be. If the truth is his mask and the masks his truths...is an arrancar the most destructive of beings because it needs to destroy others to create more masks from their truth? Or is it the truest of beings by dispatching away all other masks to free one more truth?

I wonder if you are confused by now. It would be most pleasing if such was true. I will likely find myself being much more reasonable from this point on, and I would hate if you weren't confused enough that you could make sense of it. I could simply not write past this point, I suppose, but then, what would have been the point of writing anything at all?

The show ain't over till the fat lady screams from having her leg torn off, I always say!

...oh dear. And I'd said I was going to be more reasonable from this point on. Bother that.

Let us try again.

There is a world where all these beings and more exist. It is a wonderful and frightening world.

In it, only two men have so far sought to strip apart truth and masks, and perhaps, one of them will or has succeeded, perhaps both, perhaps neither.

I believe I shall tell you what I know of them.

One was named Kisuke Urahara. He sought to strip them apart by understanding the truth, and came quite close to understanding by studying himself and his masks. He stripped those masks off one by one, without a second glance at any of them. He was determined after all, to discover the truth. He was a scientist, and was this not what scientists did?

For every mask he peeled, however, he became more withdrawn, more obsessed, though certainly more knowledgeable about masks and the lies they are. He created many great and terrible things with this knowledge, some would say, but none triumphed or ever shall triumph, what he one rainy day made. Not that he would have known if it was rainy, although he'd probably have appreciated the sentiment of it having been raining. Rain, after all, erodes things. And was this not what he wished to do with masks?

One day he simply locked himself away within his workshop. No one could get to him, not his greatest of enemies, not his greatest of friends. No one.

No one heard from him for six nights and five days time. As a rooster crowed somewhere in the human world at the time of dawn, so too did a frightening and terrifying laughter crow from within that locked up workshop. His friends pounded upon the door. They struck at the walls. They shouted and pleaded, calling out, "What's wrong, my friend? What's wrong?"

Only laughter continued to crow out. "HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!"

Over and over again.

Seconds turned to minutes turned to hours. Tickity Tock. Tickity Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Finally the laughter ended in a coarse whisper. One full day had passed.

One more night and more day, and the door to the workshop opened.

"Why hello!" the man that was not Kisuke Urahara greeted brightly his enemies and frowned at his friends.

Blank stares and questioning looks.

"Toodle loo!" was all the man said, as he strutted down the road, cartwheeling and jumping, and everything in between, and everything not in between.

Some followed after him in concern or curiosity. Others, were more curious over what happened within that secret workshop.

They peeked inside.

It was madness. Many things were broken, many things were in pristine condition, scribbles mixed with unfathomable mathematical algorithms were sketched all over the place, and this chaotic mess there rested a little shining orb held above the flooring inside the palm of a glove, with a piece of paper folded like a tent at its side, with ink marks on both sides. One side stated "Hougyoku" in neat, beautiful calligraphy. "Crumbling Orb" is perhaps a word you're more familiar with. Or not. I'm sure you've heard the term somewhere before, and if not, I will not say another word on that matter. Instead, I shall tell you two more things about that orb. One was what it was believed to do, another is what was written in the chaotic message on the other side of that folded paper tent.

Kisuke would never tell you if you spoke to him of it, and you would never be able to decrypt it.

Which shall I say first...

Hrm...I believe...that I shall start...with...

Thump Thump

"Kisuke Urahara. You have been accused of creating a device that will bridge the powers between those of a shinigami and hollow. How do you plead?"

"Guilty, my good sir!"

"Kisuke! What are you doing?"

"Why doing the right thing! I did invent it, you know. Very impressive, isn't it?"

"You...take pride in that thing?"

"Yep! Yep!"

"Kisuke!"

"He's gone mad!"

"Mad as a hatter! Whee! Look at my hat! It's green and white! Isn't it wonderful!"

"...Kisuke."

"He needs to be put out of his misery. He's not the Kisuke I once knew..."

"You can't do that! We should try to help him!"

"Isshin, I understand he is...was...your friend. But surely you can see that he's no longer the Kisuke you once knew..."

"La! La! La! La! La!"

"Enough! Someone take him away already!"

"I'll do it, commander."

"Good. Perhaps then we can proceed with judgement now..."

I suppose I gave you more information than you wished to see. I think I shall spare you the message from the other side, and instead go on into the life of the other man.

His name is Sousuke Aizen. Whereas Kisuke sought to strip apart truth and mask by studying truth, Aizen did the opposite, and focused on studying masks. So masterful was his study of them, that the only person to understand how deeply he buried his own truth under two separate masks was a young girl he attempted to murder in the moment that he switched betwee them for good. No one understood her when she muttered about his two masks. Poor girl, that Hinamori girl.

But this isn't a story about her, so we shall move on. If you wish to know about her, well, perhaps someone will one day explain what she discovered. Perhaps someone already has. I'm certain someone else has surely come to the realizations that I have and has tried to do this already. If you search well enough, you might find it, but beware.

I cannot say more, just...beware. I can tell you that the person, if such exists, has some regrets over writing what he did. Perhaps he would feel that he is lying to you, or that he has not been entirely truthful. Who could truly say?

No one, that's who. So I'd like to say "Let's move on!", but I have found myself in a quandry I did not realize I had until this very moment.

Aizen's tale, I actually realize, has not yet been fully written. I do not wish to reveal too many of his secrets, so instead I shall just say one thing there. The mask he currently wears is the one he created to learn.

I wonder, perhaps, what he's studying right now?

I shall not say more on that, but I realize I had promised to reveal the story of both men. I hope you shall forgive me for not telling Aizen's if I return back to Kisuke's.

Kisuke Urahara is a bit more himself these days, if you could call it that. He is still not the man he used to be, but to be fair, that likely will never happen. After all, Kisuke Urahara is just a mask worn by a truth peeled of all it's other masks. He does not speak to as many people as he used to, so he has a limited range of masks besides the ones he created in that one day and night since that awful laughter. He is, at the very least, alive in as many ways as Aizen is dead to the world. And I'll tell you a secret. He knows of Aizen's studies, and pities the man, yet also waits with glee, as if awaiting a dearly beloved comrade.

No? This is not enough?

You wish to know about myself?

Hrm, I do not know what I could say on that matter. I said we all wear masks, did I not?

I am but a mask, of someone young or old, of someone male or female, of someone bright or foolish. I am not entirely certain myself. As I am but a mask, I cannot introduce myself, truly.

The message on the other side was Kisuke's one true truth.

No! What are you doing! Stop! STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP! ST

"My name is Tite Kubo. Your name shall be Kisuke Urahara, and you shall help me write a story, my precious mask."

Oh god...

Oh god...

Oh god...

Heh. Heh. Heh. Heh.

THEY WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO KNOW!

NO! NO! NO!

I wonder, Kisuke...what does their truth say?

GO AWAY! YOU'RE NOT REAL!

What's wrong Kisuke? Isn't this just another story to tell? You've been helping me, after all.

Why?

Why? They're only more of my masks, just like you. I want to see what stories I can write with them...