Summary: Ichimaru Gin, Hinamori Momo and Aizen Sousuke, and the thin line between compassion and cruelty.
-
In the first light of morning, you feel an elbow jabbing into your stomach as the familiar weight settled on top of you. Through the years, you didn't feel the need to open your eyes to greet the newcomer. Her touch was already imprinted on your skin like the shape of her face on your memory, and you know it better than your own.
"Wake up," she whispers teasingly into your ear, "Vice Captain Ichimaru."
"I rather not. I think you just broke two of my ribs."
She playfully nips your ear and giggles. "I'll take that as a compliment, for being able to ambush the Vice Captain in his sleep." She rolls off on top of you and snatches the badge that you had left beside your folded uniform, and runs her fingers on top of it. "Not as good as I expected."
You get up from your bed and watch her golden mane reflecting the morning sun, creating a halo of light around her head, blinding you temporarily. "It's not like I'll be wearing it everyday. And even if I do, I think they'll still notice a Rukongai rat in new uniform and vice-captain badge."
Shrugging to herself, she places the badge down and throws her arms around your neck, pushes you back to bed, easing her curves into yours. "It takes one to know one."
Then she digs one hand between your bodies, and smirks knowingly. "Do you think Captain Aizen will excuse tardiness on your first day?"
"I think not," you reply, feeling her curves under the uniform, untying the knot of her sash somewhere along the way. "but it's worth trying for. If he ever wondered I'm not a quality being for--"
But by then she's kissing you, and you can feel her reply with a grin rather than hearing it. "Oh, Gin. Everybody knows that already."
-
When you're still a freshly promoted captain along with another son of the nobles, you often pass him by the corridors along with his new pet: a fair, petite bunny with wide, bright set of eyes and the most adorable expression of fright.
You've never seen such a delectable prey, not since Hinamori Momo.
It was long, long after the news spread like a wildfire throughout Seireitei, of a certain noble's demise in the hands of his subordinate, and as expected, bad timing on Ukitake's side. She showed up with her head raised, and just for a second, her hand stills at the sword's hilt when she notices you, and you know why: the impregnable wall wasn't there to protect her.
"Been a while, Rukia-chan. Have you been taking a vacation?"
She nods her head at you, maintaining a blue-blood's nobility. "Greetings, Captain Ichimaru. No, it was a disaster back at the 13th Division." But her eyes tell you everything, the tears she'd shed in her sleep, the haunting warmth of a beloved one that seeped away with the rain. "I'm sure you're informed of it."
"Right, right. Poor Shiba, slain at such a young age..." Pause for the effect, as she grits her teeth and tries not to flinch. Oh no, no, no, this is just the beginning. "I hope you're dealing with it the best way you know how."
"I'll be sure if I understand what you're saying, Captain Ichimaru."
"Now, I know how you want to please your dear brother. But I'm sure you don't need to do that to dear Shiba," You sigh, long, lowering your face to her level so that each word can be heard clearly. "He would probably give you his title if you just ask him nicely."
There was a stench of blood coming from her clenched, trembling hands, and you can feel the edge of your mouth widening.
-
Autumn is the scent of dried persimmon between your fingers.
Like it or not, curiosity is what draws you to Aizen in the first place. Though one summer day, you learn that understanding him might be better without looking at all.
A reverse manifestation is produced each time you try to figure him out, reflecting back everybody's gaze at him. He's soft spoken and kind. He's not really like that. He's hiding behind that soft smile. Those glasses are just a mere decoration. He's a more ideal shinigami than even the descendants of major nobles themselves, shaped in the most ideal outline that they unconsciously wanted to be.
In your eyes, he's as faultless as a dream. The depiction breaks as soon as one opens their eyes. Nobody before you even seems to try, and Tousen only learns the truth through his handicap.
Tilt him a bit to the side, and you find it, the man who uses tenderness both as a drug and as a weapon. Apply it with the right amount and at the right time, he'll get what he wants: a puppet, soft enough to bending to every tug of his strings. Over the years, the image Aizen creates is caressed into a soft indigo bloom by the adoring gazes of most students and his shinigami fellows.
Seeing is believing, they used to say.
His surrounding was polished with a painting-like kindness, with a gentle, twisted finishing touch. The effect has been knee-dissolving to everyone. For all his talk about the grandiose conspiracy, Aizen still has a spot soft for his precious little doll, with her eyes curious, big and round, if not more than her use. Hinamori adores him above anyone, and comprehends nothing of him.
All possible compliments aside, Aizen once admitted that you're the one who understands him the most. "You're always so treacherous when it comes to tenderness."
"And you," Aizen accused, "are so generous when it comes to cruelty."
Your round of obligatory snide remarks comes in tandem – usually when it's just the both of you, Kaname commenting about spiteful annotations are not much to his liking, Aizen starts with his favorite line. "What kind of fun do you have in mind today, Gin?"
"Plunging the world into pandemonium," you'll answer.
He clicks his tongue patiently and whisks his fore finger in front of you. "Not very creative, are we? How about world destruction?"
Inside the glass tube, a Hollow is crouching in a fetal position. Aizen dug his hand into the cylindrical glass, earning a soft groan from the monster. Then you realized he is looking at you - squinty eyes, long fingers, dark complexion, grotesque features that show no trace of the human it was – you can make out that much from the creature.
Aizen pulls out his hand and the tube explodes into tiny bits. And suddenly the monster was raising his long, skeletal fingers, aiming his neck. Before it makes a move for the Captain's throat, Kaname has sent it down to the floor, Suzumushi posing at its neck. Flat on his back, the creature moans again, but this time you realize it is a disguised chuckle.
"What is your name, comrade?" Aizen's voice is a mixture of thrill and delight – until he traces the creature's spiritual pressure – it descends into a disappointed baritone. Just another failure to his already extensive collection, but his craving for perfection never seems to be quenchable by their quantity.
The monster sniggers again, pushing itself up and eyes at the three of you with amused look. That's when its head suddenly splits open.
It only happens for a split second, but the transformation is what you'll remember for decades to come. And instantly it was a woman in a humble robe in front of all of you, the perfect oval face framed by the long black strands, smiling with a very meek face. His voice is confident and timidly effeminate when he speaks.
"I am Grand Fisher," The woman-version of the Hollow bows respectfully, "Master."
You hear Kaname's almost silent choking at the Hollow's voice, and his sword falters for a split second. Beside you, Aizen lets out a pleased sigh.
"I'm about to send this one to the living world, Gin. As my vice-captain," there is an emphasis on the last word, "your duty is to guide me from being astray."
Somewhere along the years, the line is cynically translated as 'In accordance to the Gotei 13 squad rules, you have to show me the path of order'.
"My function is also supporting you at my fullest extents." Your smirk to him is the first genuine one for today. "And I don't do futile things, Captain Aizen, just as simple as that."
-
You start your on and off love affair with malice in your days as Aizen's official second-in-command man. The full-blown commitment, however, manages to wrestle firmly in place after the last promotion. Your reason to Aizen is that of balance, in front of his kindness, the cruel mask is what tips the scale in equilibrium. Over the years, people are scrunching up their nose, eyes widening in dread, and takes a step back before scurrying off as they lay their eyes on you. All the while, you enjoy the consideration and it helps being so flippant. Nobody ever dares to play a blinking game with you.
As a child you always know where your next step is, even with eyes closed, you see more than the rest of the world do. Once you've known such a thing as warmth to exist, you'll fear coldness the more. They say that when you forcefully remove something that has set its root too deep in you, you'll die. A part of you did that night, gently crunching the purity of white under the weight of your footsteps. You never look back, though once in a while you're enticed to do so.
Winter smells like the mixture of pallid masks, staining the inside of your nails. It's snowing at Soul Society when you meet her again.
One look in to her face and you realize you're not out of form with the commitment yet, with the ever so brilliant eyes widening at the very sight of you and the slightest thinning of shade in her cheeks. Here is a prey, clutched in place by her own fear.
"Vi--Captain Ichimaru," she nods deeply at you.
"It's been a while," You step closer, lingering at the body's warmth, and her shocked breath leaves a trail of white fog in the air. "How are you?"
"Um, I'm a vice captain now."
But of course - you're already aware of your old badge even from a mile away. "Ah, congratulations." Pause for cruel effect. "Always hardworking, as I expected."
The rosy tint returns as she ducks her face, but as she raises it again, you see the obstinate look that never really leaves her. "Thank you. I always hope that I can one day be as capable as Captain Ichimaru did."
Mentally, you envisage her daily journal entry, written with a special brush and in a flower scented ink: "Dear diary, today Captain Aizen just told me that he wanted to spend more time with me. I think he might start loving me. Do I dare to dream?"
"Naah, you'll surpass me in no time," laughter wraps the end of your sentence. "Any difficulties?"
"Captain Aizen is a superior that I could ever hope for, Captain Ichimaru. To me, he's a... miracle." Her last word is swathed with the all-too-familiar sensation, and an almost unnoticeable dreamy sigh. Even without trying, you discern that she sees Aizen more than a superior, and wishes that it won't go unanswered. Something in you prickles to poke at that.
It will just be the shame of a lifetime to miss.
"If that's so, let me share a little secret, Hinamori-chan. Think of it as a favor from your predecessor. You see, Captain Aizen--" You lean down, until you can almost feel her ear against your lip, and the sudden leap of her heartbeat pace. Her cheek is soft and cold. "--can sometimes be very demanding on bed."
Minutes pass as Hinamori try to determine that lie, and you watch the adorable visage gyrating to stone-like, and she doesn't reply as you take your leave. More or less, you decide, Aizen will need more effort to relive her faith in him again.
After all, he always needs the practice.
-
In the long hours, the Central 46 Chamber's rang with your incessant conversation. Kaname regarded his shift in the Central Chamber's with impassiveness, the lack of spiritual pressure and the acrid tang of blood must be more noticeable by the unsighted, but he draws apathy on his features. The indifference grows to displeasure when you mock him delicately as you catch him bending over one of the dead judge's face at your shift change. He despises your second thoughts, and as he brushes past to the door, shunpo actually forgotten, his voice is under his breath.
A gush of summer wind breezes between you, bringing a scent of watermelon and at first you think you hear the first cricket chirps at the beginning of the night.
"Did ya say something, Tousen?"
The 9th division captain scrunches his nose. He learns that fake smile means naught, when he can distinguish people's reaction through his other senses. In darkness, it is easier to discern lies. Kaname is sensible, in a way that you probably will never learn to appreciate.
"I have people to meet again, Ichimaru." He repeats, tone firm and hushed, meaning every word. "Just like you do."
"I'm afraid I don't understand what you're saying..."
Facing you, he gently walks past, captain's cloak billowing in the summer night's wind. "Even if the only thing left to say is goodbye."
-
"The tenth division captain has failed."
Aizen's hands still briefly against the rims of the scroll, the bad report seeping like ink on paper, and he continues his inspection after sparing you a glance. "That child is more worthless than I expected. What exactly happened?"
"Even the most perfect plan has flaws," The wounds on your left arm are none of his concern. "Captain."
Futility is something Aizen sees with half an eye, like his spectacles, neat and stone rimmed, will be rid of once it serves its function. Just as simple, he separates the shinigami to his use and not to his use.
You practice cruelty hourly, recite it flawlessly in your sleep and all of a sudden find it difficult to force beyond the past.
You see Shinsou crushing slowly against her sword once again; stand half rooted in your position. Then she looks up from Hitsugaya's face to you–not cold, not angry, just from a great distance, as though she is still somewhere far away and always will be–and yourheart sinks. (Such an idea is preposterous, and you're sure you never have use for such futile things.)
She hasn't just come back to aid her captain. She has come back to stop you.
They say chrysanthemum is a strong flower that can withstands rain with its entire strength, even the rain of blood.
"She's special," you utter, as the truth prickles under your skin. "To you."
With one swift movement, Aizen sweeps the folders and scrolls off the desk, sending Urahara Kisuke's research documents across the floor. He is impatient, when the goal is barely in the grasp of his fingertips. "So you think I should meet Hinamori again, Gin?"
The sensation of murder is as beautiful as love. That is what your (former) captain teaches you, even the strings of death, he says, in the hands of your loved ones will be woven into a most magnificent end. You don't question his wisdom in this act of one last kindness. Then you lick the tip of your finger, and instantly hear her gasp in your ear again. There is no lingering attachment to the Society that you hold.
"Yes. Even if the only thing left to say is goodbye."
Just one.
