RAIN
It had, as of late, become like a personal philosophy of his: he would do whatever had to be done, just as long as it could be done without Rangiku having to cry. It was the only guideline; the only limit that Gin ever set for himself. He gave the impression of having no conceivable weaknesses, but he knew that if Ran cried he would never be able to go through with the plan; whatever it might be.
That was why he preferred to keep the temperamental shinigami mad at him. Her anger he could take; her rage he could manage, because it made it just a little easier to stab her in the back when he knew that she would be hurling curses at him the whole time. After all, it wasn't like it mattered how he felt. Gin could adore her all he wanted, knowing full well that it would tear him up emotionally later, because, hell, if he couldn't kill the feelings he had for the woman, he might as well enjoy it before they kicked his ass afterward.
But, Rangiku . . . she wasn't allowed to cry; not because of some action related to him. Gin knew he was going to die. It wasn't a question of whether or not, but rather just an inquiry of when exactly it would happen. And when the time came, and he was run through, he wouldn't put up with any sadness out of Rangiku. Gin did not want to be the cause of it.
No, when he was killed, he wanted her to scream at him and tell him that she hated him; wanted her to swear at him and promise to meet him in hell. At least then, he would know that she would be able to get over him. At least then, he would know she wouldn't be burning on the inside like he was. For years, Gin had worked to plant that seed in her mind; to suggest that they had grown distant. He had lied to her, cheated her, scared her to death, and ultimately betrayed everything she'd put her too-kind heart into. Hell, he'd just now run her through with Shinso, all to ensure that the shinigami would laugh when Aizen turned around and killed him.
But something was amiss, here. Somewhere along the line, Gin must have done something wrong; failed to say the right thing, because, last time he'd checked, normal people didn't kneel down next to their attempted murderer and tell them they were going to be okay.
And nobody, after going through hell because of one utter failure of a best friend, cried by their side as they lay of the side of the street, dying.
If he'd had the physical strength - or mental willpower, for that matter - Gin might have pushed Rangiku away; might have told her to get lost. Somehow, though, he knew it wouldn't be worth the effort it would take to do either of those things in the end. It seemed that Ran had seen through his transparent facade with hardly any trouble at all. Inwardly, he wondered if she had ever really hated him at all; even for just a moment.
Pro'ly not.
The former captain sighed internally. Child prodigy he may be, but that didn't mean anything when it came to her. It was like the fundamental laws of the universe didn't apply to the ember-haired lieutenant. She could have one of her days and send him to the fourth division hospital, half dead, and he still wouldn't be anything but transfixed with her. All in all, everything he did seemed exceedingly pointless when he looked at it, now.
Gin relaxed himself onto the gritty surface of the pavement, trying very hard not to think about anything; not the lunatic running through Karakura or the substitute shinigami who was sure to pull off some suicidal miracle at the last second or the fact that he wasn't going to be around to amuse himself with the aftermath of everything.
Instead, he let the defeat sink in, contenting himself with pretending that it was rain falling on his uniform.
Quit cryin', dummy. Yer not allowed to cry.