Prologue
Gin waited at the cheap foldable table, placed right in front of the entrance to the palace, Las Noches.
The former shinigami was bored….bored, bored, bored, bored, BORED. So terminally bored that he feared that his trademark grin had been lost forever, replaced by a look that could only be described as pitifully drab. His eyebrows slanted upwards toward the middle of his forehead, and his mouth formed a thin line.
He was positive his head would explode from sheer boredom. Tousen would have to rinse his smile off the walls. Like a 3-hour seminar on the history of rocks, he was freakin' BORED.
The man hung his head and gave a discontent sigh. Aizen told him, with his usual quiet firmness, that he was to sit outside and wait for the desired arrancars to arrive. What did he call them? Edaspas? Epaspeedos? Epse-shama-lama-ding-dong-jack-in-a-box-carry-the-six-I-hate-Mondays-vote-for-Pedro-das? He thought with increasing disapproval that whoever these 'exceptional individuals' were, they must think that they're so awesome that they had to make him wait for six hours on an uncomfortable plastic chair. And what's worse, he was missing Wife Swap!
Six. Fucking. Hours. If those fools didn't arrive within the next ten minutes, he would just walk inside and sip some iced tea. If those arrancar come, they can just plant their sorry asses in front of the palace doors, since NONE OF THEM GIVES A FLYING F-
"Uh…is this a bad time?"
Gin was awakened from his lamentation by a youthful, feminine voice. He looked up to find two figures standing before him – one fairly tall, and one short – wearing little more than ragged cloaks of brown fabric. The tall one had a rugged appearance, and channeled a slightly apathetic James Dean. The more petite one resembled a pre-adolescent girl, and was staring pointedly at Gin's left hand. Gin followed her gaze and immediately blanched when he saw what she did.
The squeezable anger buddy that he had picked up from the dollar store was clutched in his left hand so tightly that its eyes dangled limply out of the sockets. His fingertips dug deep into the soft fabric.
Gin muttered a curse under his breath; that was the seventeenth one today. He tossed the mutilated plush toy in the nearest recycling bin.
He turned back to the arrancar, flashing his iconic grin.
"How may I help you?"