The persimmon tree bears fruit.
Outside the captain's office stands the oldest and largest of the persimmon trees that line the grounds of the 3rd division's headquarters. It's the first of the trees that had been lovingly planted by their captain, and the smell of ripe fruit wafts in through the door to the courtyard, open to let the warm breezes in.
Vice-captain Kira lowers his head over the paperwork, telling himself that he will complete these forms right now. He will finish his duties as fast as he can so that he can leave this foreign seat behind the desk. It feels so wrong, he thinks. Kira should be on the other side, bustling in to deliver more papers. Or perhaps he should be standing behind the chair, leaning over a bony shoulder to give a second opinion about a report. And here... Here, seated where he is, should be Captain Ichimaru. Kira tries to ignore all distractions as he sits at the captain's desk, but the desk itself is a distraction, as is this very room; all of it feels empty, as if tensed and waiting for a flash of silver hair.
His thoughts are interrupted by the rustling of leaves on the persimmon tree, and he looks out. Without the captain, there is no one to pick the fruits and set them out to dry. No one to cart the extra fresh fruits all around the entire court and offer them to the other divisions. No one to impatiently watch them shrivel in the sun, sugars concentrating as they become chewy treats, and no one to send a batch of the finished snacks to the Rukongai. The poor tree's limbs are so heavy that they droop in mourning for the loss of their caretaker.
The scent of persimmons had never appealed to Kira before, though he used to admire the boughs weighted down by clusters of smooth-skinned fruits. He still does, in a way. Orange fruit against blue sky. How irreverent they are, mocking the orderly landscape with their garish brightness even when they weep. Even when they fall.
Splat! A strong breeze blows down the ripest ones, and Kira's half-lidded eyes drift to the ground where there are now sticky smears of sweet fruit. Soon, there will be ants to carry the rotting flesh away. And still, the smashed persimmons will laugh at the heavens from which they fell.
Splat, splat, splat.
Kira leaves the hated fruits where they land.
-oOo-
"Ya don't like sweets, Izuru?"
"Ah, that's not it. Persimmons are just too strong in flavor for my taste."
"Oh? That's a shame when I got so many of 'em here."
"S-sorry, captain..."
"Well, now, ain't nothin' ya should be apologizin' for. What d'ya like, Izuru? Hmm?"
"For sweets? I usually prefer something lighter, like agar."
"Is that so. Very simple choice there. Humble, but versatile, an' can be made in any flavor. It suits ya."
"...Captain, I think you should be filling out those reports rather than analyzing my personality through dessert choices."
"Nah, work's overrated."
-oOo-
Matsumoto drinks him under the table every time he goes to chat with her after work. Usually, it ends up with various members of the 10th division also joining in, much to the displeasure of Captain Hitsugaya when he discovers them passed out in or near his office with very little clothing on. Kira will be down to his underwear from losing too many rounds of strip poker. Matsumoto, who always wins, will have her ample bosom spilling out just because she likes getting a reaction.
Sometimes they're caught during the act, which results in many drunken pleas for Captain Hitsugaya to "loosen up" and "have fun" with them. He always refuses, which results in many slurred jokes about how he's still under the legal drinking age and wouldn't understand "adult pleasures". The guilty members of the 10th usually regret it in the morning when their captain doubles their workload. Kira likes to think that being de-facto head of another division gives him diplomatic immunity from Hitsugaya's wrath.
When Matsumoto comes to Kira, that's when he knows it's serious. Apart from that first week after Gin's departure, they haven't gotten drunk over him in the 10th division. No, it's always in Kira's quarters where it's just the two of them, the buzz of alcohol, and Gin's pillows which don't smell too much like Gin anymore now that the two of them have had so many half-hearted pillow punchings over the years.
The stuffing is starting to peek out. They're silly, pathetic drunks.
According to the rumors, though, they're supposed to be having a steamy affair, kind of like the one he's also supposedly been having with Hinamori since forever. Except Hinamori never had quite the male fanclub that Matsumoto has, so with this new development, Kira suddenly goes from "that gloomy poet guy" to "that bastard who stole our Rangiku's breasts". The Kira of the rumors is apparently a lady-killer with a thing for his fellow vice-captains.
Wild speculations aside, the reality of his situation with Matsumoto is that once they lock themselves in, it's a mad race to guzzle down the alcohol until they're too drunk to find their own feet, much less fuck.
This time is no different, except that it's the last.
"Ki-ira~! You know tha' bastard's not worth all this, yeah? We should... Lemme think fer a sec... Right, we should stop being depressed over him!" Matsumoto slams her fist on the table. She attempts to get up from her chair, only to stumble backwards and land onto the seat with a thud.
"Mmmph," Kira says from his sprawled out position on the floor.
"Yer... notta woman, but tha women's 'ssociation says we shouldn't get weepy like this over stoo~pid men! Didja hear me, Kii-i-iira?"
"Hn," he responds.
"Damn Foxface! Never knew wha' he was thinkin'!"
"Nnngh!" Kira enthusiastically grunts his support because he's lost too much brain function to vocalize anything else. Part of him wants to raise a fist to this proclamation, too, but his arms feel like heavy jelly and he can't seem to lift them.
He expects her to continue her soapbox rant, but she quiets down instead. She laughs, and it's a bitter, ugly sound. Matsumoto swipes around for the sake bottle and downs the rest. Elbows on the table, she turns her head to the side and covers her face with her palm. When she begins speaking again, her voice is low and accompanied by hitches in her breath.
"...They caught him, Kira. I saw them drag him back in chains."
He knows. And somewhere in the back of his addled mind he thinks that the two of them ought to be ashamed of themselves that they're sad to hear of a wanted criminal finally being brought to justice. Aizen had refused to come back with them, refused to be tried for his crimes. He had struggled for his skewed grand vision until the very end. Gin had just lifted his hands in surrender, smiling all the way home. The war is over. They should be rejoicing, but they're not, and this sympathy for the devil makes him feel like a traitor, too.
Kira doesn't know how to respond to Matsumoto's words.
-oOo-
"I hate persimmons. Why do your kisses have to taste like persimmons?"
"I s'pose it's because I just ate some. An' yours taste like sake."
"I'm not drunk, if that's what you think, captain."
"Gin, Gin! Ya hafta call me by my name in private."
"...Gin."
"Yes, Izuru?"
"Your kisses taste like persimmons."
"That they do. An' you're drunk."
-oOo-
It's not the right season for fresh fruit, but Kira remembers that Gin liked the dried ones best, anyway. They reminded him of the few good parts in his childhood, he had said. Dried persimmons are Gin's favorite, so Kira brings a box with him on his visit.
Things are quiet in the holding cell. Ichimaru Gin sits on the bare floor with an elbow resting on one knee. He makes no move to free himself. He is the very picture of relaxation.
It's a reversal, Kira thinks. Like deja vu in the most horrible way. He places his hands on the bars. The cool metal slowly warms to his touch as he gazes longingly at his captain.
"Want me to save you?"
Gin turns toward the one he left behind, and he's all slitted eyes and cheek-splitting grin as he always has been. "Ah, I thought ya might say somethin' like that. But what'd be the point in causin' such a fuss? They'd all just come after me like a pack of hounds. Kill me on the spot, ya know. An' you'd be caught in the middle again..." He tilts his head and hums in amusement. "Could be fun, though, since it'd be a grand ol' foxhunt, wouldn't it, Izuru?"
Kira looks at the man he loved, loves, will always love. His trembling hands lift up the keys he stole from the guards and he fumbles once, twice before he can unlock the door. Gin remains seated as Kira enters the cell.
This man's presence is as big as ever; not even the ashen light of the prison can suppress this air of playful confidence. His hold over Kira's heart is just as strong as when they parted. This is Kira's captain, though this war criminal no longer deserves the title. With hesitant steps, he makes his way over to where his captain lounges against the wall of the cell.
Kira sinks to his knees and reaches out for heaven one last time.
-oOo-
"I want to please you, captain. T-tell me what feels good?"
"Ya so polite even in bed. S'okay if ya wanna be selfish once in a while."
"Then... Uh... I don't know what to say."
"Nfufu. Just let me take care of that for ya."
"What? Aaah...wait..."
"Oh, what have we here? Lil' Wabisuke's raising his head!"
"Gin, that's not Wabisuke!"
-oOo-
The box lies open. Gin slowly savors his last meal, and even though Kira hates the taste of persimmons, he feels compelled to claim his captain's lips time after time.
The taste of persimmons lies thick on his tongue, sickly sweet. Disgusting. Wonderful.
"I love you, Gin."
Gin breathes in deep; Kira can feel it in the harsh press of air entering the chest beneath his. Spidery fingers comb through his long blond hair, massaging his scalp just right. And it feels good, so good to have Gin in his arms again, where he belongs.
"Ya love a bad man," he whispers into Kira's ear.
Kira mumbles back into the fabric of Gin's clothes. "I don't care."
He doesn't, really. Good and evil, concepts which have their definitions constantly shifting with the times, have nothing to do with love. Love is irrational and eternal. Ichimaru Gin is an evil man. He is evil not only for having killed in cold blood. No, of course not. They have all killed in varied and gruesome ways. Kira himself is beginning to lose count of the enemies he has beheaded with Wabisuke.
Ichimaru Gin is an evil man; he is evil because he fought on the losing side.
Damn this war! Armed conflicts bring nothing but despair. If ever Kira had doubted this, he doubts it no more. History is told by those who win, and Gin will doubtless be recorded as one of the worst mass murderers of the war, if not in the entire history of Soul Society. In a hundred years or so, that will be his only legacy while Kira is lauded as a hero.
Kira clutches tighter. He brings their lips together for another kiss. He delves deeper, tongue swiping hungrily at Gin's while his fingers are busy memorizing the feel of that thin body. This is Gin, this is Gin, he tells himself. I will never let him go.
Kira murmurs undying love to a dead man. And Gin eats persimmons.
"Thank you, Izuru."
For what? Gin doesn't elaborate, but he doesn't have to.
-oOo-
"Captain Ichimaru, they're not going to ripen any faster if you stare."
"I know, I know... I just like looking at 'em. They're so happy! An' the tree's so proud of 'em! Makes me wanna pluck 'em all off until the tree's bare."
"That's...quite cruel, captain."
"Is it? Ah, I think there's still a strip of land near the left wing that could use a few more trees. Help me plant 'em, Izuru."
"Eh? But the paperwork!"
"What've I told ya? Work's overrated."
-oOo-
The traitorous Captain Ichimaru Gin smiles all throughout the trial and ceremony leading up to his execution. He keeps his grin on to the very end, as if mocking the very notion of Death. Aren't they the reapers, the Shinigami? What have they to fear from Death?
They want him to cry, or perhaps to beg for mercy, but he won't. His vice-captain is the one who silently cries. Kira's head is bowed again, though his eyes glance upward to meet his wayward lover's. He surreptitiously wipes the tears off his face and tries so very hard to appear calm rather than despairing. For a brief moment, Gin opens his eyes just a crack. His smile becomes gentler, though still wry and sarcastic, as he sends his silent goodbyes to the only two people who still care.
Goodbye, Rangiku. Goodbye, Izuru.
Then his eyes close back up and he grins wider than the sky. The traitorous Captain Ichimaru Gin saps any and all sense of justice his executioners could have had by setting off for the world beyond the world beyond with a sickeningly sweet, "Bye bye!"
Needless to say, he gets the last laugh.
And Kira bites his lips and tries not to make a scene.
-oOo-
"We're out in the open! What if someone sees?"
"Ya worry too much, Izuru. So what if they see?"
"But it's improper, and you could be charged with abuse of power! We can't. I'm your lieutenant- Oooh. Oh, gods."
"What was that ya said?"
"Nnn... G-Gin, p-paperwork..."
"Hush, now. I'll tell 'em the work ain't done because I dragged ya out to help plant persimmon trees. Ya were just being a good lieutenant, followin' his captain's orders. 'S the truth, an' I'll take all the blame."
"Gin..."
-oOo-
It's that time of year again, when the new recruits start pouring in. The 3rd division picks up quite a few promising graduates and a couple of transfers who, having grown disenchanted with their old squads for various reasons throughout the year, think they'll fit in better with their new companions if they have orientation with the freshies.
The new recruits tour the buildings with their orientation guide, 5th seat Yamamoto Takeshi, a bright young man with a flair for dramatics. Takeshi jauntily opens the doors to their headquarters while walking backwards.
"The 3rd is one of the most balanced and diverse of all the divisions! We're not the most flashy, and we certainly don't blow up buildings all the time like some others. You know what others I'm talking about, right? But if you get caught in the crossfire, we're right next door to the 4th's infirmary, so that's another incentive to join. Ahem. Yeah, we're more into speaking softly and carrying big sticks and all that."
"Except for you?"
"Hey! Who said that? Show some respect for your senpai, would ya? Anyway, don't go around thinking you can get by here with just kido or just swordsmanship. You're gonna need both, and preferably a couple other skills, too. Our captain's as good a healer as any of the guys over at the 4th, you know. And he's an award-winning poet! We'll train you in a variety of skills, both for combat and artistic enrichment..."
While the speech goes on, they go into the barracks, rec room, and seated officer's desks. They pass by the captain's office and move outside to the courtyard.
This is the pride of the 3rd division: they have the best landscaping.
"And this is our garden! Pretty sweet, isn't it? ...Eh? What are you all staring at?" Takeshi turns around to see what's garnering all the attention.
Captain Kira Izuru's fingers are stained orange. An overripe fruit bursts in his hand and he pauses to lick the juice off. Behind him, the creaky wooden cart is nearly full of persimmons, and Captain Kira still has the other half of the orchard to attend to. He gracefully sweeps his long hair behind him as he sets to work on the next branch.
"Oh, I see," Takeshi mumbles. He grins with understanding, and in the next instant, his voice is as energetic as ever. "Well, tour's over! Let's break for lunch~! Take this opportunity to introduce yourselves to Captain Kira, too!"
With that, the new recruits disperse. Some approach their new captain; he welcomes them with distant politeness. For the most part, though, they settle around the orchard to watch as the captain works. His is a sad sort of beauty that makes one's heart ache with unknown loss. It's an ethereal beauty that must be admired from afar.
One of the girls hesitantly makes her way up to the captain a second time. She has to ask what all the others are thinking. "Do you...like persimmons, captain?"
"I hate them," he says with a melancholy smile.
The recruit sputters and bows, beating a hasty retreat. She scurries back to her group of new graduates to gossip about the infamous Captain Kira and his persimmons. It's just like they heard at the academy! The captain of the 3rd is some weird masochist who writes haiku all the time and eats persimmons even though he hates them! Ah, but he's so handsome! But those looks are wasted on someone with such a gloomy demeanor! Then again, doesn't his sadness enhance his beauty?
Kira doesn't spare them a second glance. After all, it's the same each year. Instead, he finishes up with this branch, puts his armful of fruits into the cart, and wheels it away toward the captain's quarters.
He raises his head and proudly walks forward. It's time to set these out to dry.
-oOo-
The persimmon tree bears fruit again this year.
"They taste like your kisses, Gin."
A/N: The Hut of Fallen Persimmons (Rakushisha) is the name of a cottage that was once owned by the haiku poet Kyorai, disciple of the famous Basho. I thought it was fitting to use this to describe the Gin/Kira relationship, as Gin is fond of persimmons, and Kira is fond of poetry. (This fic was, of course, inspired by Kira's award-winning haiku published in Seireitei Communication.)