Just a little idea I had for a story. I haven't actually ever written RangikuxGin, but I like it. It came from me being incredibly depressed and then resorting my anime merchandise collection.
Matsumoto Rangiku stared emptily at the still full bottle of sake on the desk in front of her, oblivious to the tears coursing down her cheeks. Every time she closed her eyes, there he was, with his beautiful silver hair, and that stupidsmugadorable smile of his. She let out a choked gasp.
"Gin" She had been there to watch him fall. The weather hadn't even had to courtesy to be raining. No, the sun had been shining happily, while her life fell apart, and the only man she had ever loved died because she didn't believe in him. Her head dropped to rest on the desk, her folded arms providing a barrier between her and the world. She sobbed, wretchedlybrokenlyhelplessly because he was gone. The one who always protected her, even to the end. And she couldn't protect him. She couldn't just return that one little favour. She just couldn't trust him enough to risk a broken heart again, she had killed him. He was gone…no, he couldn't be gone! Gin was always there, smilinglovingholding. He could not be gone! But the treacherous voice in the back of her mind spoke up, reminding her of what Urahara had said
"Aizen created a device that not only kills, but obliterates the soul. It does not allow for reincarnation…I'm sorry Matsumoto-san, but he's gone. For good"
Words no longer sufficient, Matsumoto screamed into her inner world, a wordless, breathless cry of losspainfailure, joined by Haineko in a harmony of anguish. A knock at the door disturbed her. She looked up, not even bothering to wipe the tears away. Who cared now?
"Come in" She said softly, her former playfulness lost. The door slid open softly and the fukutaicho of Twelfth Squad bowed respectfully to her, the other members of the Shinigami Women's Association arranged behind her. "Kurotsuchi-san" Rangiku nodded to her. The girls who all felt such a great debt of thanks to the strawberry-blonde fukutaicho entered and walked softly over to stand in front of the Tenth Squad fukutaicho.
"Matsumoto-san. I… we, the Shinigami Women's Association have made you something." She bit her lip before continuing, with that same soft, caring tone that made Rangiku want to scream at and hug the girl. "You know that the words and actions of all taicho and fukutaicho are recorded by the Twelfth Squad?" The other fukutaicho nodded her assent "Well…when Ichimaru-sama and the two traitors left, their files were virtually destroyed. However, there were a few things that remained" The strawberry-blonde tried to rid herself of her apathy. She was talking about her Gin! "Ano…It's not very much, but we transferred the vocal files to this device, without listening to them, and decorated it…there was one picture, you see…" Rangiku focused suddenly on the black-haired girl in front of her. Something of Gin's? "It was found inside his pillow in his room…" She handed the package over to the grief-stricken girl.
Rangiku opened it slowly. It was a small shape, silver, like his hair, roughly the shape of an egg, although thinner. It fit in the palm of her hand. She ran her fingers over it curiously, turning it over, and stemming back the upwelling of sobs that threatened to tear her apart. It was an old picture, resized and mended and carefully stuck to the item, so it looked as if it had been painted on. It was a picture of him, of her darling, beloved Gin. And he was holding her, pointing at something. She swallowed harshly, remembering that night. He had taken her out to see the winter fireworks in Rukongai – a 'congrats on being a fukutaicho, Ran-chan. Even if it is to that prissy, icy, little genius' present. She hadn't even known he'd taken a photo – let alone that he cherished it so much. Her hand twitched involuntarily, trying to hold it closer than was physically possibly, accidentally pressing on the picture – which was, in fact, a button. Three phrases, disjointedunconnectedterrible came from the little white memento
"Bai bai!" Cheerfulsarcasticfunny "Sayonara" Sorrowrepentancelonging "Gomen ne" Honestregretfulwrong.
The women who had brought her the gift looked at each other, wondering if they had gone wrong by making it. Matsumoto had listened to the three sound bites, the last three solitary remnants of the one she lovedadoredbetrayed, and her face had collapsed on itself, her arms wrapped around her stomach, trying to hold in the pain that felt like a hole was ripping itself in her, making her hollow, making her a Hollow, because surely she couldn't cope with this terrible painangerbrokenness any more. Surely she couldn't, she couldn't she couldn't.
The last thing the Shinigami Women's Association heard her say before she fell into unconciousness was a broken whisper
"It wasn't your fault. It was mine"
"It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" – thus says one who never truly loved, and therefore only imagines how easy it is to move on, to live a life that you never imagined could exist without the one who somehow became the centre of your world
(hides) I know, I know. You probably hate me now... Please, please review though. I've never written angst before and I want to know if it is actually any good. Oh, and I have a possible second chapter for this, if you guys think it's good enough and think I'm far too cruel for leaving Rangiku like that... But I won't know if you think that, and therefore if I should post the next bit unless you review