It had rained the night before and Rangiku stretched languidly across the tattered couch, half asleep. A bowl of dried persimmons sat on the table next to her. She shook reddish hanks of hair out of her eyes and took one, first nibbling at the soft coat of sugar at its surface.
"Rangiku?" Gin was annoyingly good at being silent. He turned to face her, his eyes dark and narrow curves. It frankly terrified Rangiku sometimes, when she couldn't tell if he could see her or not. "I planted a persimmon tree. It's outside in the abandoned plot." The snake smile wavered for an instant. "I just wanted ta tell ya, in case ya ever need it."
Rangiku swallowed something that seemed to be stuck in her throat. "Need it?" She felt something inside her stomach drop, and she was afraid she already knew his answer. "When would I need it?"
"If—when—I'm not here." Gin bent over and plucked the dried persimmon out of her hands, took a bite of it himself.
Will he be gone tomorrow? She carefully watched the slight movement of his jaws. "Can I have the persimmon back?"
"If your mouth is hungry for something," said Gin, brushing silver hair out of his face, "I can satisfy that." And then he leaned over and kissed her, and Rangiku could have sworn that in the split second before she kissed him back, she could see the color of his eyes.