Flower

Shinji was comparative to a flower. Yellow, bright and cheerful, strong willed. A daffodil. To say he was a flower was implying that there was something soft about him. There was nothing soft about shinji. Yet there was nothing hard.

Aizen knew this. He held the Daffodil of Shinji’s heart in his merciless grip, because it refused to wither, or bend. And while this was something that fascinated him about his Captain, it also frustrated him to no end.

There were some things about Shinji that he didn’t understand. And the more he thought about them, the looser his grip on that Daffodil grew. He’d never regretted anything in his life. But he was aware. If he let go of that Daffodil, or held it too tight and smothered it, he’d regret it. Which only frustrated him more because it wasn’t like he liked his Captain in any specific way.

But he was a flower, delicate, perfect. Aizen wanted to crush him.

“Captain. I brought you something.” Shinji looked up, gazing into Aizen’s eyes, only to find them more guarded than usual.

“What’s this?” Aizen gave Shinji a gentle smile, arranging the flowers in a vase.

“Daffodils, Captain. I think they suit you well.” Shinji frowned, but said nothing, watching the yellow flowers and Aizen’s pale hands in the sunlight.

Owari