Rangiku took the final step towards the bench, underneath her window, and fell onto it gratefully. She sighed deeply, and relaxed her tensed body for the first time in several months. Pressing her face into the soft, silken cushions she felt their fabric tickle her face and soothe her body, sore from its long campaign in the Jakaquoda Badlands.
There had been unusual Hollow activity there, with Hollows appearing every day over a small South American village. Enclosed within a jungle, fermenting with life forms Rangiku detected in a dizzying array, that vanished from the senses almost before they registered. The area was attracting Hollows through some unknown mechanism, or as Rangiku mused for the hundredth time, had been sent there. Pulling herself up at last, she settled her feet on the floor and examined the room, to check nothing had changed in her absence.
The room she was in was her outer sitting room. At her back, a box window opening out into a garden, had been thrown open by one of the Squad members, earlier that day in preparation for her arrival. The air that streamed through it fell on a small room, furnished with a careful precision. The luxurious silk pillows patterned with waterlilies lining the deep window ledge she lay in were the most extravagant objects there. Her favourite part of the room: Woodblock cuts of a cat fishing, displayed so the different panels told the story as the eye ranged across the wall were untouched. She smiled at the memory of drinking sake with the artist and his friends as they placed the final print on her wall. The only other furnishings - a low table of honey coloured wood, holding a tray with a delicate teapot and two teacups were also as she remembered them. Satisfied with her inventory of the room she stood and sashayed through the door into the garden beyond the room.
Hitsugaya had told her gruffly, when she pouted about the mission assignment from the Head Captain making her miss her birthday, he had already realised this. After a disgusted look, he had tossed out casually as she moved around the office talking loudly about how preparations for her departure would mean less time for paperwork. He would leave his gift for her within her quarters so she would find it as soon as she returned. She hunted for it now eagerly. Her captain was superficially very different from her, but they understood each other well.
A sharp breath rang from her as she caught sight of his gift. A sculpture of her zanapukato's manifested form – a cat – was poised above the koi pond, its paw curled expectantly in front of it to dive amongst the waters for one of the plump fish that swayed through the water. The lean intensity of the cat's form was captivating to observe, contrasting with the tranquillity of the scene behind. The sculpture was made from ice, which glittered without melting under the heat of the sun.
"My, my" said a lilting voice behind her as she felt a strong reiatsu flare suddenly and provocatively behind her. "I was not aware that our dear Squad 10 Captain was so magnanimous to impart such generous gifts to his Squad members. I'm surprised at you though lieutenant. I didn't know you would let our dear Captain so near your…pussy-cat."
Rangiku felt Hitsugaya's reiatsu curl protectively towards her. He was probably unnerved by the intensity of the reiatsu flare the Squad Three Captain had released. She could feel its force pressing on her skin, like clothing that was too constrictive.
"Aah, what a concerned Captain," Gin said smiling down at her affably. Rangiku almost shivered with the solidity of his spiritual pressure as it bore down upon her.
"Gin" she snapped, her eyes blazing as she forced her aching body to stand. "You're releasing so much spiritual pressure he probably thinks there has been an unprovoked attack on a Squad member within his division".
As suddenly as it appeared the unreleased power from Gin's reiatsu disappeared. Rangiku took a deep breath, trying to calm herself as her reflexes trained over the course of many months sang to her deal with the threat. Instead she watched as the smile that settled upon his face as oppressively as the air in the Living World, shifted uncertainly for a fraction. It returned with less of that haughty distance, used with most people that always soured her stomach.
"Why are you here?" she bluntly asked, as the wounds partially healed just that morning by Squad Four. Who told her it would be better if the body's natural healing processes finished their work, jostled for her attention.
"To give you a gift, "he said. Indicating with his left hand in a fanlike motion, a small bag held in his right hand. "Unless of course that would cause problems between you and your dear Captain. I wouldn't want to be the reason for any dissent amongst the ranks of other Squads. I did naturally consider sending Kira – that delightful friend of yours – over with it, but as Captains are clearly involving themselves with the personal comfort of their subordinates I am so glad I reconsidered. After all, my reputation as a man who is always abreast of the latest trends in the Seritai may have been threatened otherwise."
"Yes" replied Rangiku sourly, "that would be a tragedy." Her eyes trailing down the lean form of the man came to rest on the bandaged wrist holding the bag. It was extremely unusual for any Captain – especially Gin, who fought with a languid but impenetrable grace – to be injured in any of the routine training exercises they participated in.
Pushing this thought aside, and the concern that curled up from some long protected place, she asked: "Well, what is it? Or is my gift to see how easily I would be able to defeat you if you were to attack me?"
"Oh Rangiku, don't worry. I'm sure you would be able to capture me." He smiled reassuringly, his tone light and teasing as he upended the contents of the bag in his hand and held it out to her.
"I realise they aren't nearly as stunning as that display behind you but I hope they still have a place – however humble – within your heart." Gin held out a handful of dried persimmons, their leathery forms spotted with a distinctive mottling. It marked them as originating from a stall where they had first seen them together. The sight of them huddled within his palm, seemed so familiar and comfortable, like sinking into the cushions in her sitting room. Yet, she thought, as he flexed his fingers, coaxing her forward, so ringed with unknowns. She stepped closer, her fingers plucking one up to bite as her eyes closed to that unknown future, focused for just one moment, on the past.