It was late in the night when Ichimaru Gin strode unhurriedly down the colossal main hallway of Las Noches. The moon's lachrymose gaze streamed in from long windows, creating far-reaching, pewter ribbons along the walls and floor of the great hall. The argent hue of the Shinigami's hair seemed more resplendent than ever in the cool midnight glow that bloomed around him.
As he progressed, Gin noticed a dull yellow light, reaching weakly out from under a solemn door at the end of the corridor. He realized the room was his and shuddered as bile began to rise from the pit of his stomach. He could only imagine who had let themselves inside, and the thought made his jaw clench.
He remained outwardly composed while his muscles tensed and his blood froze in his veins. He approached the room hesitantly, and slowly opened the door, bracing himself for what lay inside. Gin's narrowed eyes shifted to fall on his commander's towering form, softly gilded by the dim light of a candle that sat innocently on the wooden body of his desk . Aizen's eyes fixed lazily onto his sedated form, a question rising beneath the cold brown depths.
"Gin, you look like you've seen a ghost. Are you feeling well?" He inquired softly, in an amiable voice that disguised his true nature all too well. Gin observed the stone-like man in front of him. Aizen adopted a fairly disinterested expression before speaking. "I suppose you have no obligation to confide in me. However," A hint of a smile played over his sinful mouth before he added, "I must concede, I never took you for the romantic type, Gin." He said, lifting up a small, wrinkled piece of paper.
A cool wave washed over Gin's lean physique, and the sick feeling returned. He understood that Aizen had been pouring through his belongings, weeding through the papers in his desk. His hand twitched, longing to constrict around that arrogant neck of his, yearning to end him then and there. No, he wasn't about to risk his life for that just yet. He kept his voice abidingly pleasant, as to not betray his true intentions. "Took it upon y'rself ta organize my desk, eh Aizen-Taichou? That ain't no job fer a God, ye know." His smile remained bright and unreadable. Aizen only blinked and regarded him with a detached smile.
"I never expected to find such a touching love letter like this in your desk, of all places. Gin, I thought you told me you didn't have a heart?" he paused briefly before adding softly, "Have you lied to me?" Gin sensed the double meaning behind the question, and thought it best to refrain from answering. There was a sadistic glint in his eyes as he lifted the paper and began to read in a theatrical voice. "I wish you wouldn't leave me, I can't bear to be away from you. I need you to stay here – with me. Promise me you will." The words were thick with wicked amusement. "Ha ha, but that's the very promise you so love to break, isn't it, Gin?" he jested, "I can only wonder who wrote this to you. Was it that boisterous little lieutenant, perhaps? What was her name?" he gave Gin a sinister look before finishing, "That's right, now I remember. It was Matsumoto, right?" Gin's breath caught in his chest and the heat of his hatred seemed to cause his blood to boil. How dare he utter her name, the scum. He kept his tone light and his posture carefully composed.
"How annoying she was. That letter ain't nothin' but a reminder of a past life, a life that isn't mine no longer. Burn it fer all I care." His words were skin-deep and empty of any emotion. He watched with silent agony as Aizen complied, dropping the letter over the candle's fire. The note set aflame and burned to death on the desk, leaving only a black scar on the wooden surface.
"I think I'll take my leave now." Aizen said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice as he walked his way toward the door. He paused before passing Gin and added, "No more secrets, hmm?" then went to leave.
"Bye-bye," Gin said, waving a valediction as he quitted the room.