"Do not go gentle into that good night…
Rage, rage against the dying of the light." – Dylan Thomas
The morning of the offensive against Aizen, Izuru woke to find a dried persimmon on his bedside table.
He dressed slowly in the gray predawn light, staring at the small orange fruit resting innocently on the low table. Was it just his imagination, or could he detect the slightest trace of reiatsu on it – one that tasted of iron and persimmons? Izuru sighed heavily. For decades, that reiatsu had been more familiar than his own. He would never forget the unique signature – it felt as though it had imprinted itself into his skin.
Picking up his zanpakuto, Izuru ran his fingers thoughtfully along the katana's sheath. Wabisuke, can you tell me anything? he asked silently. But the taciturn weapon offered no advice. He hadn't expected anything else, though he would have welcomed any helpful comment. His brain felt fuzzy, clogged with sleep deprivation and muddied by the tumult of emotions surging through him. The sky slowly lightened as he stared at the blade, unable to make sense of the chaos inside of him.
Finally, with a decisive nod, he strapped the weapon onto his hip and strode out the door.
The streets of the Seireitei were deserted in the early morning hours. All of the civilians were in hiding, or had been evacuated; no one wanted to risk a surprise attack from Aizen's army. Of the combatants, most were eking out as much sleep as possible before the big battle, and the rest had seized the opportunity to spend time with loved ones. Everyone knew that this day might be their last one on earth, and had spent the prior night accordingly.
Izuru grimaced. We're all acting like we're going to lose this war, he thought soberly. But I refuse to give up yet.
He flashstepped along the rooftops, heading unerringly towards a small park outside the city walls. He and Ichimaru-taicho had often met there after the work day ended, seeking privacy and a respite from the endless demands on their time. The glade had become a sanctuary, a safe haven where he didn't have to be Lieutenant Kira, calm and in charge, but could simply be Izuru.
His mouth twisted bitterly. And then Ichimaru-taicho betrayed us all. He had watched the golden pillars of light lift Ichimaru, Aizen, and Tosen into the sky, and felt the world shatter into pieces around him. Why, Gin, why? he cried silently. Even in the privacy of his own mind, he refused to put words to his true thoughts: why did you leave me?
A tiny, treacherous part of him wondered if today he would finally get an answer to that unvoiced question, but he firmly squashed the traitorous instinct. I'm doing this because it's my duty as acting captain of Squad 3, he told himself firmly. There's no other reason. Keeping that thought in the forefront of his mind, he gripped Wabisuke's hilt tightly as he shunpoed onwards into the rising sun.
Izuru landed, and there he was. Gin Ichimaru. Clad in a long white haori over a white outfit reminiscent of a shihakusho, he lounged against the trunk of a tree with a subtle smirk on his lips. When Izuru dropped out of shunpo at the edge of the glade, he looked up and gave a little wave. "Izuru-chan. Good to see you again." A thin smirk tugged on his lips, as if this was just another day, just another casual meeting.
Izuru clenched his fist around his zanpakuto, resentment boiling in his gut. "Ichimaru. Traitor. Why are you here?" he demanded coldly.
The former captain pushed himself off the tree and stalked forward with predatory grace. "Why, I came to see you, of course," he purred as he nearer Izuru.
The lieutenant's jaw tightened. He drew several inches of Wabisuke from its sheath with a rasp of metal and glared at the approaching ex-captain. "Stop right there." He should have drawn and run the man through, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Seeing Ichimaru again had brought a mess of emotions churning to the surface. Fury, hatred, despair, and regret battled for supremacy as he glared at the slender shinigami.
Gin raised his hands in the air and did as bid. "See, I'm unarmed," he told Izuru softly.
"You're never unarmed," Izuru spat back bitterly.
Gin shrugged fluidly. "Maybe not. But I don't intend to harm you." For a moment, his expression turned distant. Then his customary smirk returned in full force. "So, Izuru, how's it going?" he drawled.
Izuru slammed Wabisuke back into the sheath with more force that was necessary. "I'll ask you again. Why are you here?" Why did you come back now? Why not sooner?
The former captain's smirk widened. "You don't believe me? I came to see you, like I said."
Izuru snorted and spun on his heel. It may have been foolhardy, but he trusted Gin not to stab him in the back. If he wanted to kill me, he'd have done it already. He grimaced. I still trust him, though I can't say why I do. Staring out at the rising sun, he snarled, "You don't care about me. You made that abundantly clear. So no, I don't believe that you simply came to see me." Inside, his inner monologue continued raging, urging him to scream all of his frustrations at the traitorous captain, but Izuru firmly silenced it.
Grass swished against the bottom of Gin's robes as he moved closer. Izuru half-expected it, but he still flinched when the older man laid a hand on his shoulder. "You should," Gin commented softly. "It's the truth."
Struck by an odd note in his former captain's tone, Izuru turned. Gin's eyes were shadowed, but uncharacteristically open. He gave Izuru a small smile, full of ironic amusement and concealed pain, and spread his hands. Izuru swallowed hard, and Gin sighed. "You've grown," he murmured. "My sweet, innocent Izuru-chan isn't so innocent anymore." Was that regret in his tone?
Izuru wrenched his shoulder out of Gin's grasp. "Your betrayal shattered any innocence I had left," he spat furiously. The tide of resentment overwhelmed him, and he continued acidly, "You left us like we were nothing, to follow your precious Aizen-taicho. Now you're back, and you want me to understand that? Go to hell." Even as he said the words, Izuru flushed with shame. I can't believe I lost control of my emotions like that. For a man who prided himself on his self-discipline, such an outburst felt like an admission of powerlessness.
Gin flinched, almost imperceptibly. "You're right," he replied quietly. "I don't expect you to forgive me, or even understand me. But…" He trailed off and glanced down.
"But what?" Izuru asked softly, his rage flickering out as quickly as it had come.
Gin looked up and gave him an open, sorrowful smile, tinged with a hint of true joy. "I just wanted to see you, one more time," he murmured. Cautiously, as though he expected Izuru to strike him down, he lifted a hand to the lieutenant's cheek. "My dear, sweet Izuru-chan."
Izuru gulped at the feeling of those long, slender fingers against his face. "Why did you leave?" he burst out suddenly. "Why didn't you take me with you? I would have gone if you had asked." He leaned slightly into Gin's touch before realizing what he was doing and hastily straightening.
"I know," Gin sighed. He offered Izuru a guilty grin. "That's why I didn't ask."
Izuru stared at him in shock. For a long moment, his thoughts tumbled around in his head, a whirling tornado of confused emotion. Finally he whispered, "Why not?" Was I just a toy to you, then? Or just that much of a liability?
Gin dropped his hand and turned away. "Because your life is here. The barren sands of Hueco Mundo aren't for you." A thread of anguish ran through his words.
Izuru took a step forward, then halted, struck by the vulnerability in his former captain. Taking a deep breath, he murmured, "Even so, I would have gone." His captain had believed in him when no one else would. He had taught Izuru everything he knew about being a soul reaper. For decades, you were my guiding light, a beacon in the darkness, though I knew no one else trusted you. They simply didn't know you. He swallowed hard. I would have followed you anywhere, even to Hell itself… I think I loved you.
Gin shook his head sadly. "And it would have been a mistake." He smirked at Izuru, his mischievous nature briefly returning. "Though I would have… enjoyed… your company," he purred flirtatiously. His thin tongue flickered over his lips, and Izuru blushed heavily. Gin snickered. "Maybe a bit of innocence remains, ne?" He patted Izuru's cheek condescendingly.
Izuru glared at him. "I'm fairly sure you took care of that a while ago," he pointed out dryly.
Gin swayed closer, until his breath hissed over Izuru's lips. "And you loved every minute of it."
The blond lieutenant blushed again. He refused to think about all the things his captain had taught him, though the silver-haired man's proximity stirred some embarrassing – and arousing – recollections. Loved every minute of it? Maybe. They had played with the line between love and hate, pleasure and pain, so many times – Izuru wasn't sure he could tell the difference anymore. You made me feel more than I ever had before, and I loved you for that, at least. Though now I wonder – did you plan any of this, when you first seduced me? Or was it just another one of your little games? He didn't know, and the possibility sent tremors through his heart.
I've had a while to think about you, he told his former captain silently. And I'm not sure that I could say that I love you anymore. All those nights together, what had Gin really been feeling? If you truly cared for me, why did you hurt me? And if you thought I was just a plaything, why are you here now? None of it made any sense.
Izuru sighed heavily and took a step backwards. He couldn't handle any more of the turmoil that his former captain stirred up inside of him. "Gin, unless you want to surrender, please leave," he asked softly. "I don't want to fight you." Not now, at least. Please don't ask me to do that. He took a deep breath, and asked, in a tone a hair short of pleading, "Please, surrender." Though he knew the answer before he spoke, he had to ask.
Gin shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly. "I can't do that." He smirked at Izuru. "And while I'd love to see how much stronger you've gotten in my absence, I'm afraid I can't dance right now." His leer imbued the sentence with a wealth of obscene innuendo.
Izuru shook his head wryly. "You haven't changed." He spread his hands, looking at the slender man pleadingly. "Please, Gin," he didn't stop to think before blurting out his former lover's first name, "come with me back to the Seireitei. Rangiku has been disconsolate since you left. Don't do this to her." Don't do this to me. "I promise, I can make sure you get an honest trial."
Gin's mouth twisted. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Izuru-chan." He swallowed, tongue darting over dry lips in a gesture that, in anyone else, would have been called nervous. "I… I hate what I've done to Rangiku-chan," he whispered, almost inaudibly. "What I've done to you."
Izuru's eyes widened in shock. "Taicho?" he asked uncertainly, before remembering that the man in front of him didn't deserve the title any more. I don't think I was meant to hear that.
Gin chuckled humorlessly, drawing his masks back into place. "If you're looking for a grand confession, you'll be waiting a while," he informed Izuru dryly. "You know me. I'm a snake, always in search of prey to devour. I don't have a heart. You and Rangiku were simply prey." His lips thinned as he spoke the last words.
Izuru shook his head firmly. "I don't believe that, and you don't either," he argued. "You wouldn't be back here if you did." Even if that's all I was at first, you cared for me. I know you did. Maybe you didn't love me – I don't know if you know what love is – but you did care for me. His eyes hardened. And I know you don't think of Rangiku like that. If you can love anyone, it'd be her. He would have expected the thought to hurt, but the ache dulled against the sharper pain of Gin's betrayal of both of them. I don't care who you love, so long as you come back to us, he told himself firmly, nurturing one last shard of hope. "Tell me why you came back, if not because of that."
Gin leered at him. "Maybe I just wanted to see my handsome former lover," he murmured.
Izuru's eyes narrowed, and he took a step forward. Gin moved backwards as he advanced, keeping the same distance between them. "I know, and you know, that that's not the case," he said steadily. Gin flinched a miniscule amount. Izuru reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder, and Gin's eyes widened. Even before the betrayal, Izuru had rarely initiated contact. For him to do so now was a sign of his conviction. "Come with me," he urged. "Please, Gin. Don't force us to kill you. I don't want you to die." His heart clenched at the thought, though he knew a proper shinigami would have rejoiced. Well, then, I'm not a proper shinigami, for I can't watch my lover die without a fight to save him, he thought rebelliously.
Gin tipped his head to one side, peering at Izuru through slitted eyes. "You really mean that?" he asked softly.
Izuru nodded firmly. "I do."
The former captain sighed. "Sweet, innocent Izuru-chan. Even now, you won't stop believing in me." His tone was disbelieving.
Izuru gripped his shoulders tightly and shook him once. "So believe in yourself! You don't have to do this!" You always have a choice. I don't think you want to kill us either, really, otherwise I'd be dead now. So come back with me!
Gin smiled at him, the joyous smile that Izuru had only seen a few times. "Izuru-chan, keep that belief in the justice of the world," he murmured. Then he shook his head. "I'm dead one way or another, dear Izuru."
"What do you mean?" Izuru demanded hotly. Please, Gin, why do you sound like you don't have a choice in the matter? He refused to voice the thought, for it would only push the eccentric shinigami further away, but its clamor echoed through his mind.
Gin's smile grew twisted. "Just what I said." He leaned forward and rested his forehead on Izuru's. "Though I appreciate your offer, I'm afraid I must decline."
"Tell. Me. Why." Izuru snarled. He wanted to strike Gin, make him listen to reason. Make him come home. Make him come back to me. However unlikely the latter was. I'd settle for the former in a heartbeat, if it meant he'd give up this senseless treason.
The silver-haired shinigami laughed humorlessly. "If you ever trusted me, trust me on this. I have to do this." Raw conviction roughened his voice, turning his tone into adamantine.
Izuru let his hands fall away from Gin's shoulders. "Fine," he murmured, feeling his heart splinter into a thousand pieces all over again. "Leave again." I should have known better than to hope, even for a second, that you'd changed one bit.
He started to turn away, only to feel Gin's hands on his upper arms. The older shinigami's grip burned as the former captain yanked him closer, until they were chest-to-chest. Gin's aquamarine eyes bored into Izuru's as he pulled the lieutenant into a searing kiss, forcing Izuru's mouth open in a move a hair short of violence.
Izuru's eyes fell shut. He moaned as Gin's tongue tangled with his, carrying the familiar taste of dried persimmons and forcing all rational thought out of his mind. Only when they were both gasping for breath did Gin raise his head. "I'm not leaving because of you," he murmured fervently. "Remember that." He gripped a handful of Izuru's hair, pulling the blond shinigami's head back and baring the muscles of his throat. Heat ran through his veins, and he gasped. Gin sank his teeth into the exposed side of Izuru's neck, biting hard enough to leave vivid marks and making Izuru whimper.
"Please," he begged, unsure what he was begging for. Just like the first night we were together, he recalled with a furious blush. I didn't know what I was asking for then, either, but you gave it to me anyway. This time, however, Izuru knew enough to know that he was pleading for the impossible. The regretful look in Gin's pale eyes told him that much.
The brutal grip in his hair contrasted starkly with the butterfly kisses that Gin laid down his neck, before clamping his teeth on another column of muscle. Izuru arched against Gin, whining low in his throat. When Gin released his grip, Izuru could feel bruises forming, and relished them.
Gin stroked his cheek with gentle fingers. "Something to remember me by," he whispered.
Izuru nodded slowly. "I'll never forget you," he promised.
To his surprise, Gin wrapped lanky arms around him and tugged him into a tight hug. Such simple physical affection rocked Izuru to the core of his being. He folded his arms around Gin and clung fiercely, wishing that he never had to let go. He could feel his former captain's reiatsu envelope him in a soothing blanket, a mockery of all the times Gin had used that reiatsu for games of pain and pleasure. This time, there was nothing but comfort. Izuru felt his eyes sting, and blinked furiously. I will not cry in front of my captain, he told himself. So he rested his head on Gin's shoulder and swallowed hard.
For better or for worse, this would be the last time they saw each other like this. So Izuru held on with all the strength in his body and prayed for the moment to last forever.
But everything has to come to an end sooner or later. Gin's grip eventually relaxed, and he ran tender fingers through Izuru's hair. "Take care of yourself," he ordered gently. Izuru nodded, not trusting himself to speak around the lump in his throat. Gin leaned forward, his lips ghosting over Izuru's ear. "Tell Rangiku I'm sorry," he whispered. Then he was gone.
Izuru looked after him for a long time before turning away. He had a war to fight.