"Reason exists for those who cannot go on living without
clinging to it. Now let's go, Gin… to the edge of reason."
The words haunt him, twisting and expanding and multiplying in the form of shrill screams and violent tugs at his heart and mind. The world seems dim for a moment as the ex-Shinigami's feet remain cemented to the ground below, frozen in place.
This is not the first time Gin has seen what Aizen is capable of, and surely it won't be the last. His throat feels exceedingly dry as he watches the figure of the man he has followed for over a century travel out into the clear blue skies and eerie silence that makes up a world he never truly got to experience. At least, not that he remembers.
{…He finds it unnerving that he can remember so many details of his life, like the feel of Rangiku's scarf and the pruned texture of a dried persimmon in his hand… and even the rare sound of his fukutaichou's laugh, a welcomed noise that revealed parts of an old friend that weren't often revealed to anyone… and yet he can't remember what it feels like to truly be alive. To feel a heartbeat other than his own, to feel the sun beating down upon his skin, or to feel warm blades of grass between his toes … to feel truly happy…}
The startling image of the Kōtotsu rushing towards both himself and the God-King of Hueco Mundo invades his senses, and briefly, Gin's icy blue eyes flicker open. He swallows… and for the first time ever, he wonders if he has waited too long.
A gentle breeze makes its way through the Senkaimon Gates as Ichimaru Gin stands there, willing his body to move. The wind caresses his silver strands of hair, and he feels, if only for a fleeting moment, the pads of familiar fingertips trace his jawline. It's this gentle, forgiving ghost of a touch that awakens his very soul, awakens the emotions that have laid dormant for so long… and for the first time in a very long time, Gin longs for that caress, those fingers, that touch…that smile…
'Now's not tha time fer this,' he thinks to himself as his eyebrows furrow together in frustration.
Gin wants to move, he needs to move, to keep walking and following and proving his loyalty by always being at Aizen's side; never faltering, never letting his conscience or his emotions get in the way of his plans. If he doesn't move soon, it's only a matter of time before Aizen turns around to look at him, and Gin fears that if he does, the cracks in the mask he has worn over the past one hundred years will be visible to his all-seeing, all-scrutinizing eye.
{Reason exists for those who cannot go on living without clinging to it.}
The words repeat in his mind through Aizen's familiar tone of voice. He wonders about his own reasons for choosing the path he has followed for over a hundred years… and it almost feels as though, up until now, he had forgotten.
Gin's hands feel wet with blood as he remembers the brutal injury he had only just inflicted on Hiyori's body, and along with the massive waves of guilt that seemingly wash over him, comes the crippling realization of those he never truly got the chance to know now lying half dead on the ruins of a fake Karakura Town. Those he should've been fighting with, not against.
'It feels like the end,' the Second in Command thinks to himself as his squinted eyes trace the peculiar folds of fabric clinging to Aizen's back. His heart feels heavy in his chest, and it's almost as though the inner-child who chose this path reveals itself within him, urging him on. He can hear Rangiku's sobbing, and he can hear his young, desperate voice calling out to her to wake her up from her nightmares… and with that voice, comes the resolve to keep moving, to keep going.
And so the ex-Shinigami follows, no longer at Aizen's side but behind him… and like a snake slithering through tall grass in search of his prey, Gin continues to wait, and to push out all of those pesky emotions that have only caused him to falter.
'Alright, Aizen-taichou,' Gin thinks to himself, remembering Aizen's words. 'I'll race ya there.'