Mask
The Mask of Ichimaru Gin
Disclaimer: If Bleach belonged to me, I think the most accurate statement would be that I would destroy the world with my ravings of injured Ichigo.
To Kenzie Perth: Alrighty! I'm not sure about Matsumoto but Kira will most likely be here, despite being an obscure character. Gin is the easiest to read out of all three in my humble opinion, so Gin came first to make my life easier.
Ex-Captain of the Third Division, Ichimaru Gin, had a mask.
His was possibly the most obscure of his fellows. He had an impenetrable barrier of the strongest steel forged around his heart. Rangiku... She was different. He and she lived in the Rukongai together, loved each other more than anything in the world.
But Gin had seen an opportunity. That Shinigami that he had killed was an opportunity to introduce Rangiku to a world of no famine, of full bellies and warmth, where no cruelty existed and he could protect her.
Standing beside Aizen, he carefully pieced together every part of his plan. One mistake and it was all going to be over; Aizen wasn't renowned for his mercy. Cunning had always been Gin's strongest suit, but it was part of the mask—all part of the mask.
The deepest part of him dreamed of a wide open meadow and a laughing Rangiku. No shihakusho, no Vice-Captain armband, just his happy Rangiku.
The rest of him doggedly reminded him that until his plan was executed, that vision would never become reality.
His fingers curled over the mask.
He would do that a lot, to dream. Rangiku's happiness was his ultimate goal. To achieve that goal, to attain that wish, he was willing to sacrifice anything. That's why, at an early age, he'd begun stealing from renowned Shinigami to eat. That's why, at an early age, he'd starved himself just to give Rangiku a few more coins.
Fat lot of good that'd done. Rangiku had ended up a Shinigami Vice-Captain anyway.
Aizen gave him looks of trust, often even respect, and Gin knew he had won him over, no matter how much the other Shinigami denied it. Having had no companions from an early age, Gin understood that Aizen despised all but those who were even at a bare minimum of his strength. And Gin believed that he had achieved at least some portion of that strength.
He'd been such a fool.
Then the fated Winter War came. Hurting Rangiku—the hardest thing he'd ever done. The look of betrayal in her wide blue eyes—more pain than any zanpakuto could inflict. And the fear—fear that he wouldn't succeed.
He managed one swing. He managed one spilling of blood.
And suddenly, his mind was far, far away. He saw Rangiku's eyes, like the sky, blue and wide-open and free, and her smile, wide and carefree and understanding.
Rangiku, leaning over him, looking utterly shattered.
Please don't cry. I did this for you.
She smiled.
That was all he needed.
A/N: Gin's is the shortest because, well, he dies. You know, a bit hard to work with. Nothing the indestructible Kori can't handle!
