He's not really here anymore. He's somewhere else. Someplace other.
"Ne, Gin-chan." Her finger curls around his thumb—her tiny, tender trap—and he can't move. He shifts a little on his back and stares upward at the gleaming sun. She's always holding his hand, grazing his body, stroking his heart.
"Ne, Gin."
"Mm."
"Where do we go when we die?"
He huffs. "Fuck if I know."
"Seriously."
"I really don't care."
"Then why do you pray with me for Oba-chan?"
"Because you want me to." The old woman is less than a shadow to him now, the one who took care of them a lifetime ago, gave her life for them a second ago.
His companion is silent, but not for long enough. "Don't you miss her?"
The air darkens. The stones move into place and his circular cell tries to shield him. But he is compelled to answer. She's asking him something. "I guess," he says to the air.
There must be a crack somewhere. She can still reach him. "You guess." His heart twists when he hears the disappointment in her voice.
"I miss her," he says.
Silence.
He's a day late and a dollar short. He wonders why his first answers are always wrong. It doesn't matter anymore, since he's answered one too many questions wrong and now he can't feel her finger wrapped around his. Never again. Never, ever. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Never.
He only realizes that he's screaming again when one of the guards pounds on the ban. "Shut your damn mouth or I'll shut it for you!"
But it's too deep in him and too urgent, now. He couldn't stop if he wanted to. The guard does all there's left for him to do and the black feathers descend, making Gin's world dark again.
He awakens to voices, thankfully not his own.
". . .back with Abarai-kun last night. She's remarkably improved—in such a short time. I'm a little curious, Retsu. How are you doing all this?" Ukitake.
"Isn't it obvious?" Her tone is almost disdainful. "Those who truly desire healing will lead themselves to it. All I did was point out a clear route."
"Don't play with me, I beg you. You have more knowledge at your disposal. But to suggest that Kuchiki-fukutaichou only needed to want it is oversimplifying it, isn't it?"
"Is that where she gets it from? Is every member of the thirteenth division complicated like this because you've got an affinity for making things difficult? Oh, the anguish! Juu-chan, this is all because you fell for someone who spends too much time with Urahara-kun. Everything is a maze and an enigma. Why can't things be simple?" The amusement in her voice is helium-filled and buoyant. Until her gray eye falls onto Gin. Then her gravity returns in less than the blink of an eye. "Do you know, Ichimaru-dono?"
Gin sits up. "Will it be on the final exam?" he asks, almost feebly.
Unohana steps close, her delicate white hand grazing the ban. "It is the final exam." The barrier drops and Gin sways, the wave of the combined reiatsu of two captains washing over him. He does not find it menacing, or even disapproving. Perhaps it is a small comfort that they apparently could care less. "You should stand and catch your breath," she says. "The twelfth division compound isn't far, but you're weakened. You'll need your strength."
"No ceremonial guard will be escorting us," Ukitake says, moving to stand beside her. "You will be bound but not blindfolded. It is late and we have instituted a curfew. No one will be watching save whom we've selected to observe."
It's soon. Sooner than he thought it would be. But this is it. He can only rise, take two short steps toward them, and hold out his wrists. Ukitake frowns as he forms the cuffs, done with kidou, of course. They are a striking shade of blue, almost translucent. When he looks back up into Gin's face, the smile is already back. "Can't keep my public waiting, can I?"
The captains exchange glances, he anxious, she reassuring. The small group moves down the stairwell toward the exit. Between them, Gin can only gaze forward.
"Ne, Gin-chan. Where do we go when we die?"
I don't know, Ran-chan. Maybe you can show me.
Maybe—oh fuck, oh fuck.
He's on his knees. Strong hands are on either side of him, trying to pull him upward. He cannot stand. Wants to, but can't. His legs are gone? No, they're here. Just not co-operating. He is gasping. Too much reiatsu here, and he has too little to combat it. They don't even get it, the stupid fucks. The voices around him are not stern, but curious. ". . .weak now, of all times?" Komamura.
"Too bad Hitsugaya-taichou isn't here to see this." Hisagi, the edge in his voice sharp as tempered steel.
"They kept Kira away, too. Probably for the best. . ." Isane?
"Ichimaru-dono. There is a chair here. Can you sit?" Kyouraku, and his voice is kind. Behind the chair is a short table. On the table, encased in a barrier of its own, is Shinsô. As he sits, he can feel the arms wrap themselves around his chest. Her cheek is next to his and it is so warm . . . I've missed you.
But this isn't—he is shamed. He cannot remember the last time he saw the form of his own zanpaktou. This is not how he remembers it. It. But now it's her. His brow knits; he wants to turn around and do something to it.
The room is darkening, more than it already is, except for some artificial light that surrounds him and this false zanpaktou. A stronger voice is here, everywhere. "Ichimaru Gin. Former Shinigami, former Fifth squad fukutaichou, and former Third squad taichou. You have been found guilty of the crime of treason against Soul Society, encompassing several smaller crimes including conspiracy and attempted murder. You will suffer the ultimate punishment, the manipulation of your physical body until it ceases to function, followed by the complete annihilation of your soul. Do you wish to address us before your sentence is carried out?"
There's nothing left to say, Shinsô says in the voice that does not belong to it. The words are on his lips, but he can do no more than whisper them. The now-invisible crowd murmurs its response, the voices melting together so he cannot understand them.
"Then we will begin."
His body tenses. His mind is racing. All this, not in spite of his fear of dying, but because of it. . . Relax, Gin-chan. This isn't like my death. It'll be like going to sleep. This can't be her. He's aware of little else but the confused, useless anger boiling to the surface, malicious blood flooding his brain as it no doubt swells. She'd never say that. She'd never—
He cannot feel it, whatever they're doing. No, that's not exactly true. It's a hum only he can hear, a solemn call pulling the life from his body. It doesn't matter how they are doing it. It's calm and horrible. Death by Soukyouku would have been preferable to this interminable waiting game.
His eyes are open, gazing at his knees. He cannot blink. Like going to sleep, she says again and he forces his head upward. He can see them all now. Ukitake and Kyouraku side by side, faces impassive. Komamura, giant furry that he is, his expression is inexplicable . . and then the lights flash out again. Is it over?
His hands are free. The silence around him is fogging the rest of his senses, but there she is. Violet eyes in a grim white face. No. Gray eyes, bright with something other than tears. She kneels before him and he lays his hands on her shoulders, buries his face in her neck and imagines being shrouded in red gold hair. "Let go."
"Ran-chan," he gasps.
"Shh. . ." Her hand is in his hair. "It's okay."
He lifts his head to face her. Rukia's lips are slightly parted; he cannot hear any words coming from them. He can only blink.
"I had a bad dream," he murmurs. "I saw my eyes peeking out of yours."
She nods at him.
"Are they gone now? My eyes?" He can't see anything anymore. She cannot answer, will not. Her lips on his are soft, merciful, and quick. He gasps. This isn't what he wanted, from either of them. He wanted the gray eyes to know. His love is eternal and endless, she has to know. Has to. "Ran-chan, I'm sor—"
"I forgive you," both voices cut him off as his thoughts drop away. He never gets a chance to thank them.
Rukia is not crying. Tears have no place here, not anymore. The chair is empty and the zanpaktou that was behind it is slowly fading away. No one needs to ask if it is over.
Rukia scans the witnesses to find that one face. She is grateful neither her brother nor Renji were here to see; they could never understand. Unohana nods at her. The secret they share will never be uttered.
As she walks past the stunned crowd, she does not look back.
A/N: No, it's not over.