Finals are done. Let's celebrate.
Yaoi warning for this chapter. I kinda forgot about that thing. Screw it.
The world was burning below him, Seiretei consumed by flames of deepest orange and red licking its walls and turning them black. Ash was piling up in the streets, trees were instantly incinerated, shinigami were running in terror. He could hear the screams and the desperate cries for help and some cursing among them. Cursing at him. Cursing at all of them.
In the distance, he tried to spot a lone building and a lone figure. Finally, among the chaos, he found the sign of the Third Squad, burning bright and sending smoke signals into the gray sky. And through its walls, he could hear someone screaming inside.
Bang.
Gin drifted back to consciousness as the door slammed shut and opened one eye slowly to see what the commotion was about. A blurry black shape came into focus, and he realized he was looking at a pair of legs. But they were so stiff they looked like they belonged to a piece of furniture. He sat up on the couch slowly.
"Oh God," Izuru muttered with a strange look of horror on his face. "I woke you up . . . I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were there--"
Gin held up a hand. How ridiculous the boy was sometimes. Getting worried over nothing.
"Nah, fo-get it," he replied, rubbing his head. "Bad dream anyhow."
"Really?" Izuru asked meekly. "Erm . . . do you want to talk about it."
Gin made a face then shrugged. Why not humor him. "Sure," he answered, and patted the seat beside him. Izuru hesitated, as he always did, and Gin felt an urge to roll his eyes, but he finally sat down next to his Captain. "I dreamed . . . I set Soul Society on fire."
He reached over and combed his fingers through his Lieutenant's soft blonde hair, pulling apart a few knots along the way. Through his skin, he could feel Izuru stiffen at his touch, although he did nothing but tremble.
"On fire?" Izuru repeated quietly.
"Indeed," Gin smiled and glanced over at his subordinate. It was funny to see his mind struggling to figure out whether he was joking or not; it didn't pay to make up lies anymore. He wouldn't know the difference either way. "Somethin' wrong?"
Izuru shook his head, avoiding his gaze. Gin sat up straighter and drew his hand away. If he didn't know any better, he would have guessed that Izuru was hiding something, too. He wasn't especially good at hiding anything, with that guilty look plastered to his face if he even stepped a toe out of line. Too obedient for his own good: and Gin had made him that way.
Gin sighed. Honestly, with that expression, it was as if he wanted to be caught. "Tuh. There's always sumthin' wrong, Izuru."
"This . . ." he stopped, and turned to face his Captain, boldly. Gin was amused. "It's not the first time you've had this dream, is it?"
The smile faded from Gin's face instantly. This was certainly an interesting turn of events, but he could not find it in himself to enjoy it. Certainly, Izuru was right; this was a recurring dream, one that had started from the first day he had planned with Aizen to leave this place in ruins and popped up again now and then. But now that the time for the actual destruction was approaching, the dream became more frequent and more vivid. That didn't disturb him; it was natural. But how did Izuru know about it? And the fact that he had waited until an opportune moment to let it slip . . .
Izuru flinched at Gin's change in facial expression.
"Izuru," Gin said firmly, and took hold of the boy's shoulders. "What makes ya say that?"
"Erm. Sometimes you mutter in your sleep."
Gin raised an eyebrow. Sleep-talking? Years of preparations and scheming could be found out by something as trivial as that? No one had ever told him before that he had said anything in his sleep; perhaps it was a new thing that came with the anticipation of the coming destruction. But then, if he had said that much, what else had he said? He had dreamt of other things as well over the past few months. What else did Izuru hear?
He glanced briefly over the confused younger face before him, brow furrowed, the wrinkles complementing the rest of his smooth complexion. And Gin wondered if he knew what would happen in less than a fortnight, and if he were playing his part not by deception, but by his own free will?
Nah, he thought, shrugging it off. Izuru was too easy to read; he would have let off something if that were true. He was confident in that much. And as much as he loved his Captain, he was much too loyal to Seiretei. Even Aizen had noticed that.
"I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry . . ." Izuru began, fearing the worst again.
"I ain't mad," Gin said through gritted teeth. He stood up, looking to take a walk to clear his head. He had to talk to Aizen about this; there was a problem neither one of them could foresee. But all thoughts of this left him as something even more unexpected occurred.
He felt the warmth of arms around him and found Izuru clinging to his robe and leaning against his chest. He raised a hand to stroke the blonde hair then felt a hand in his own.
"You never ever tell me," Izuru started, voice shaking, "whenever you have problems. Yet you always comfort me from mine. Well, it's my turn." With his free hand, Izuru took a hold of Gin's and looked up to where he figured there were eyes. "Taichou. Whatever it is. I'm here for you."
And boldly, probably without thinking about it too hard, he took a step forward and kissed his Captain. It became more forceful, more prolonged, and his hands began to claw at his Captain's sleeves, and running down to clutch his hands. Izuru parted Gin's lips with his own and slipped a tongue in between. It was rare for him to be so into it, so forcible, which only amused and enticed Gin even more. Like he could actually let the boy take total control.
Gin clasped Izuru's hands and turned him around, pinning him against the wall behind them. His fingers reached for his Lieutenant's shirt, trying to remove it as quickly as possible. It was not enough just to taste his lips; the sweet bare skin beckoned to him, and he wanted it all to himself, wanted to touch it, wanted to feel the heat from Izuru's body and hear his heart beat.
At last, the shirt was on the floor, and Gin did not hesitate to rest his lips on the Lieutenant's smooth neck, kissing fiercely, hungrily, and using his hands only to bring him closer. Izuru had yet to lose himself, but it was only a matter of time. Then they could move to the bedroom or just finish right here.
Bang.
Had it just been another dream? No, it couldn't be, not when he could still feel Izuru's skin and smell his sweet scent. And there was something hanging in the air. Something out of place. Something wrong.
Immediately, he let go of his Lieutenant and stood up straight.
Then came the voice that spoke from the doorway. What a way to return to reality.
"Captain Ichimaru! Lieutenant Kira! Important message! Special wartime---" and then it cut off.
Gin turned his head to look at exactly what he thought he might see. There, standing in the open doorway was a black-haired Shinigami in a standard uniform. The shinigami's face turned bright red and he turned around as quickly as he could. Gin was almost confident he had let go just in time, but in their position, there was no way that even the most clueless wouldn't have known immediately what the two of them had just been doing.
Gin bit his lip. Only a few days to go and this was the time fate decided they get caught? There was too much at stake right now for him to get into any fights with the interior. This simply would not do.
"Yes?" he asked casually. He could see Izuru beside him, all but paralyzed with fear, grabbing his Captain's arm for comfort and advice. Gin wrenched his hand back and put a finger to his lips.
"I---" the Shinigami began in a shaking voice. "I have a message. From the interior."
"What's the message?" Gin continued, drawing out his words. He had to make this last long enough to think of something to do.
"There has been a breach of the Soul Society," he began, less shaky than before. It was probably a rehearsed speech. "We have an intruder alert at the Gate. So all Captains and Vice-Captains are to carry around their weapons at all times. They are instructed to alert the interior if they see an intruder and to kill them on sight."
"Kill 'em on sight, got cha," Gin repeated, and eyed his sword sitting by the doorway. It would be a simple task; no one would miss him, he led a miserable life anyway. It had been done before a hundred times over. Blamed on a hollow attack. Simple as that.
"Alright, cool," the Shinigami replied and made to leave. Except it wasn't cool at all. Oh no. He wasn't going anywhere.
"Hang on," Gin said, and the messenger froze. "You ain't dismissed yet." He took a step forward, and the shinigami, as though he sensed what was about to happen, began to shake. Well, they always said that shinigami could feel death approaching.
"C-Captain Ichimaru," he began, unable to move. It was just as well. He would have easily been caught had he tried to run. "I – I – I didn't see anything, alright?"
"Indeed you didn't," Gin replied, and took the sword from the threshold.
"You don't need to do this . . . please . . ." His voice shook violently, reminding him strongly of Izuru's when he was afraid. The sort of panicky tone that only made him more interested.
"Taichou . . ."
Gin shut his eyes tight at the sound of that voice. At first, he thought it must be in his head, but remembered soon that his subordinate was right beside him. He hadn't intended to have to kill someone in front of Izuru; a hollow, fine; someone evil, perhaps; but this Shinigami was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The shedding of innocent blood was something that he was sure would turn Izuru against him. "Turn away, Izuru," he muttered. "Ya shouldn't see this."
"Ichimaru Taichou, don't!" Izuru started. Gin heard Izuru's steps behind him, but they both knew that he couldn't stop him, even if he tried.
Gin took a few steps forward himself and raised his sword above the shaking messenger's head. He heard sobs both in front of him and behind him, but one of them would be done with soon enough.
He could see Izuru crying about this, crying and covered in blood, but no hand of his Captain's could comfort him, because it had caused the pain. But he'd get over it. He always did.
"Gin," Izuru said firmly, but his Captain could hear the struggle to keep his voice straight. "Don't do it."
And he felt a small twinge of some indistinguishable emotion.
"God damn it," Gin mumbled, and struck a blow to the head with the hilt of his sword. The shinigami slumped over and lay motionless.
Gin put the sword at his hip and sighed, kicking the body lightly. At once, he turned to his Lieutenant.
"Put 'im on the couch," he ordered, and immediately, Izuru walked over to do so. "When 'e wakes up, I was never here. He delivered the message an' passed out. Get it?"
"Got it," the boy echoed. He dragged the messenger inside. "Thank you."
"Tuh. I don' know whatcha mean," Gin lied. "I wasn't gonna kill 'im. Too much of a mess."
"Yeah," Izuru replied and seemed slightly disappointed. "Where are you going, anyway?"
"Me?" Gin replied. "I'm off ta check out these 'intruders'."
