Characters: Gin, Rangiku
Summary: Even when we lose ourselves, lose everything, we can still wake up, even if it's too late. GinRan. Spoilers for 416.
Pairings: GinRan
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for Deicide arc, spoilers for 416
Timeline: Chapter 416
Author's Note: This connects to my extremely speculative oneshot Cut Loose. You might want to read it first. And, take note that while I do think that Gin has established himself as a supreme jerk with his treatment of Rukia in the Soul Society arc and his (sob) bisecting Hiyori, I see him as a lot more sympathetic now. One of the big tragedies of Bleach, at least I think so, is how Gin really lost himself trying to get back at Aizen. It's pretty clear that he was strange from the beginning, but his personality was badly warped by his (I'm assuming) hatred of the man. His character ended up really twisted.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
I can hear her calling, from across eternity, it feels like. How long has it been, since I heard her calling me with that note of urgency in her voice? Days? Weeks? Millennia? Or merely moments?
It didn't work, of course. Nothing ever works, and I have failed her, utterly. I couldn't get back what was stolen by the thief, couldn't help her, couldn't even tell her why any of this was happening.
She's confused. Rangiku's screaming, and I can't make out the words. I don't know what she's saying, but I try to smile, for her. It will be the last time, the last time for everything.
I remember Izuru. Poor little Izuru. I hope she takes care of him. God knows Izuru needs someone to take care of him.
Was attempting to recover what was lost really worth it? Rangiku has never suffered for it, has never been any the less for it, doesn't even know that anything was taken from her. As she remembers, she was beaten and knocked unconscious that day, and woke up to find me leaning over, persimmon in hand. She never knew that she was any different from her encounter with the Shinigami.
She never knew, but I did. I couldn't help but look at her and think that she wasn't whole, that she hasn't been whole since the day we met.
Rangiku doesn't know. She's better off not knowing, probably. What would that solve?
We were both kids once. It's hard to believe, but we were. I had my mission, had my objective, and I never forgot it, but I was still just a little kid when I met her. Where has my purpose gone? Where has all my professionalism fled to?
It's all lost, bogged down in hate I should never have given myself over to.
The sun is beating down on me. I don't feel so heavy anymore. Really light, actually.
Aizen is still here. I still haven't killed him, failed even more completely than before when I lost my objectivity, my ability to think and see clearly, with detached eyes. Aizen is still alive and well, and after I'm gone, there's nothing between him and Rangiku.
But none of this seems really important anymore.
I force my eyes open, drooping upon my skin, and Rangiku staring down at me, desperate now, pale and now knowing, is the last sight I see, before there is nothing more but oblivion. It is a good last sight.
Her… I failed her.
I'm glad I said sorry.