Author's Note: I've gotta stop watching The Lion King. It's the only movie that can make me cry no matter how many times I see it. I even cried when Simba and Mufasa were just frolicking after Simba was rescued from the elephant graveyard. I wept so hard. I wanted to scream at the TV. Don't go to the gorge! OH GOD, please don't go to the gorge!

So, speaking of things that aren't irrelephant, this is probably my favorite drabble.

XI. "Dance"

It had been two weeks since Hinamori had become an Arrancar, and though Gin's visits were less frequent, he still made them. After months of being trapped in Las Noches, however, Hinamori learned to never be surprised.

That was until the most unusual thing happened: Gin asked her to dinner.

Taking a seat at the large table (traditionally reserved for Espada meetings, she noted), she cleared her throat awkwardly as a plate was set before her.

"Good evening, Hinamori-chan," Gin greeted her, taking a seat. Thankfully, his twisted smile didn't bother her as much now. Of course, she still shivered whenever he looked at her from behind those slit eyes, but at least the upward spin of his lips no longer made her ill.

"I don't eat anymore, Gin-sama," Hinamori told him politely.

"Nonsense," Gin insisted.

Sighing, she knew any argument with Gin was impossible to win, and so began eating.

"What do you think of Aizen-sama?" Gin broke the incredibly long silence when they were halfway through dessert.

Hinamori looked at him curiously, setting the empty bowl aside and glancing at her hands. "He is a devoted leader."

"And?" Gin insisted from the opposite end of the table.

Hinamori searched for words.

"Never mind," Gin said, interrupting her thoughts and flippantly waving a hand. "Would you like to dance?"

Hinamori's eyes widened as she gave him an incredulous stare. "Excuse me?"

A sliver of a smirk crept into his usual grin as he rose from the table, quickly approaching her. "You heard."

Glancing around nervously, Hinamori gulped, but stood and accepted his outstretched hand. "I didn't know you danced."

"I don't," he admitted, even as they took to the floor.

For some reason, this dance (currently an elegant waltz) disturbed her more than Gin's late night tarries. Some level of romance was required for dancing, some mutual understanding and appreciation between partners. Hinamori knew she understood him less than he understood her, and there was certainly no appreciation in that wicked mind of his. Watching her feet, Hinamori struggled to keep up with him, following his lead and stepping when he instructed her to do so.

"What do you think of Aizen-sama?" Gin asked again, spinning her out and gently winding her back into his arms.

Hinamori followed his feet awkwardly. "He is a gracious man."

Gin made a playful "tsk" sound beneath his breath, and the dance suddenly changed from a polite waltz to a more unabashed tango. Hinamori reluctantly found her fingers intertwined in his, the distance between them closing ever so slightly. Silence resumed as she spun by his direction, a little amazed that she could even keep his pace. Nonetheless, she found herself sweating a bit.

"What do you think of Aizen-sama?" Gin's voice pestered once more, warm breath whisking past her ear.

Hinamori kept her eyes trained intensely on his movements. "He will be a benevolent ruler."

Sighing, Gin wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing her body against his. The tango melted seamlessly into a samba, the tempo of their steps increasing. While he kept one hand perched at the small of her back, he trained his other around her hip, instructing her swift sway. Hinamori swallowed hard, feeling Gin's lips lingering near her ear, breath hot against her neck.

The quiet between them resumed, the only sounds in the room being the tap and shuffles of their footsteps and the sound of Hinamori's labored breathing. Her legs fought to follow his own as she tried desperately not to lose whatever game this had turned into. She should have known better, though, reflecting on how Gin never lost at his own games. Her knees gave way and she began to slide to the floor, breath coming in short, heavy bursts. Gin transitioned her into a dip, lowering her to the ground and cuing the end of their dance.

"What do you think of Aizen-sama?" he asked once more, looming over her.

Hinamori's lungs burned, her feet bled, and her eyes stung with tears as she rasped, "I love him."

Pleased, Gin left her to catch her breath and exited the room. He was excited to report and confirm Aizen's suspicions: Hinamori was experienced with the waltz and decent with the tango, but she couldn't samba to save her soul.