No More Tomorrows

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. That honor belongs to Tite Kubo. All characters are depicted as legal age.

Warnings: Definitely AU at this point, Spoilers for the Soul Society Arc and Beyond

This is part of the 30 Kisses challenge on LiveJournal, #4: Our Distance and That Person

In the end, no matter how Retsu-chan encourages or Izuru hints, Gin stays poised on the precipice. He could take that final plunge, that last little step. Out from the shadows and into the sunlight.

But somehow, he never does. He's always too busy. There's always something else going on. The old man to please. Aizen-taichou to answer. His own division to lead. Too many reasons. Far too many excuses.

And then… Then, Kuchiki Rukia is captured and brought back to Seireitei by her brother. Aizen-taichou smiles and brings their plans to the next stage. And the clock ticks by the last few free minutes. The sand from the hourglass spills through his fingers.

Gin's out of time. He can feel it in his very bones. Hear it in the words as they leave Kuchiki-hime's thin lips and vibrate the air. See it in the gleam of Aizen-taichou's glasses as they catch the light.

There's so little time left and even less so as the old man dismisses them. As the captains file out one by one and he's standing beside Izuru just outside the first division without even knowing how he got there. As he notices Hitsugaya pass them by, scant inches away.

So close. Too close. All he has to do is reach out. For a wild second, Gin even starts to do just that. To lift his hand and snag a sleeve.

But then, he tastes the barest whisper of Aizen-taichou's reiatsu behind them. His shoulder blades twitch, and a trickle crawls down his spine from the force of those eyes on him. That freezes Gin in place more effectively than Hyourinmaru ever could. Stops him short and cold, and all he can do is snap his fingers back as though scalded. He just watches Hitsugaya and the swish of his white haori as he strides out of sight. Gin stands there staring minutes after he's gone, not daring to move until Aizen-taichou has finally left. He lets out a shaky breath when the man finally does and turns back to his second.

Innocent little Izuru has missed it entirely. At least, the part with Aizen-taichou. Instead, his lieutenant is watching him with a knowing half-smile. He opens his mouth – undoubtedly to offer some insinuating tease – but Gin beats him to it.

"Let's go," he says and doesn't even wait for him to follow as he hurries away.

His office is stifling when he arrives. Hot and stuffy as he shuffles over to his seat and collapses into it with the grace of an old and broken man. It isn't even that warm outside yet, but somehow, Gin feels like he has entered a sauna and taken up residence. Sweat drips down his back underneath the layers of his shihakushou, and his skin is moist, almost clammy. His brain swims in his head. Not hurting but not alright either.

He briefly wonders if he's come down with something. If maybe all of this is some fever-induced hallucination. If it's some sketched together nightmare from an ill mind. If perhaps he'll wake up to find the world as it's always been. If the clock will be rewound.

Gin doesn't know how long he sits there or remember filling out his paperwork as he does. He doesn't even notice that he's only blankly gazing at his now empty desk until Izuru clears his throat. He jerks up to see that his office is filled with shadows and the sunlight has shifted from bright yellow to a deep red. His lieutenant studies him from the doorway with mounting concern, and Gin thinks to reassure him, to dismiss his worries with some playful comment.

However, his mouth can't quite seem to form the words. His throat is too dry, and the room is too hot. Reality tilts before his eyes and sways from side to side. His heart pounds in his chest, and he can feel the pulse of it in his throat.

"Are you alright?" his second questions then, but it sounds like he's very far away.

Gin can't quite focus on him. Can't quite find the strength to meet his eyes.

"Taichou?"

But Gin isn't listening. He's lost to his own world of heat and suffocation and something all too much like despair crawling in his soul. He feels like he's on the edge. That this is the end, and he can't scramble back up the cliff.

And it's hot. So hot in here. He can't breathe. He can't think.

Then, somewhere beyond the far wall, there is a sudden spike of reiatsu. A cold blast of pure ice and draconic excellence. He knows without really knowing that Hitsugaya has just released his shikai somewhere within the city. But there's no anger, no sense of urgency. Just training then. Probably sparing with his division.

But even all this distance away, Gin can still feel Hyourinmaru coiling through the sky. Can still taste the arctic bite to the air and feel his office go from summer sweltering to refreshingly cool. Gin basks in it. In the sensation of ice that drives the heat from his body. In the kiss of frost that coats his soul and beckons him to come out to play. To rise from his desk and fly free from the building. A siren's song all the way back to its maker and master.

His eyes find Hitsugaya of their own accord, and he stares as if willing himself to see through the stones and walls that separate them. As if he could see that reality matches the painted picture in his mind. Hitsugaya with his white hair stirring in the breeze of his own reiatsu. Haori rimmed by frost and blue-green eyes blazing brighter than the sun.

He doesn't even have to imagine the dragon's roar that resounds in the air then. Gin can feel it in his very bones. Can feel that gaze flicker his direction for an instant before he's jolted back to himself.

He takes a breath and opens his eyes – when had he even closed them? – to find his lieutenant inches away. There's a hand on his wrist and one at his forehead, and Izuru seems well on his way to panic. To sending for the fourth and Retsu-chan or maybe just bodily hauling his captain there himself.

It's funny really. And painfully sad. He'll miss this, Gin realizes. Miss Seireitei and the people in it. Retsu-chan. Izuru. Rangiku. Hitsugaya. He'll miss them all and never be able to explain himself. To explain why he did this. Why he sided with Aizen.

And perhaps this is his punishment for that. This is his penance for not seeing the truth earlier. For not taking the thousand and one opportunities offered up to him before. But there aren't any more of those either, and maybe that's his punishment, too. Maybe this is his path. His destiny. His end.

"Do you believe in fate, Izuru?" Gin asks before he can stop himself, and he's not even certain where the words come from or what drives him to say it.

His lieutenant draws up short. Instantly going from concerned to flat out flummoxed. His mouth works wordlessly. As though he can't quite figure out if he heard that right.

Gin merely sighs. His gaze is still fixed on the same spot as before. Looking at something – someone – not even there. Looking and wondering. Already knowing deep inside that he's run out of time. That he had so many chances and wasted every single one of them.

"Never mind," Gin dismisses. "Just thinkin' out loud."

He's quiet so long afterwards that his lieutenant surely has to believe him comatose or delirious again, but Gin is really only pondering. Only considering the possibilities of the universe as he feels another burst of arctic chill before Hyourinmaru is shielded and sheathed once again.

He sighs a second time and feels bereft. Feels like he's just been run through as heat creeps back into his limbs and threatens to pull him down into the abyss. It's already too much, and he's already had enough. He's too tired for this.

"Taichou?" Izuru begins then, tone puzzled and anxious. "What did you mean by that?"

"It doesn't matter," Gin replies softly. Wearily. "Just a thought."

Izuru doesn't quite seem to believe him. No surprise there. But Gin just doesn't care. It's barely past sunset and the day he normally stays late in the office, but Gin can't stand to be here another second. The air grows stifling again, threatening to suffocate him with its heaviness. The room is once more hot and closed in, and his hands tighten and flex of their own accord. He's gone beyond sweaty to downright drenched and starting to lose his energy again. Can now hardly find the energy to lift his head.

He can't be here anymore.

Gin somehow manages to rise from his desk, smack away Izuru's helping hands, and stagger for the exit. His lieutenant hovers as he moves by, and there's a gleam in his eyes. Something conspiring and hopeful. But Gin knows that he's way off base with this one. That what Izuru thinks he's off to do, what he thinks should happen, and reality are very far apart.

And if that isn't the story of Gin's life, he doesn't know what is.

"Goodnight, Taichou," his lieutenant calls after him. Voice light and gentle. Full of affection and a hint of worry.

Gin feels his back stiffen. Feels the weight of the world press down on him. Feels every choice and half-truth and lost opportunity stab at his soul.

But it's too late now. Too late to do what he should've done years ago. There's no more time. No more tomorrows.

And instead, he exhales very slowly and tips his head. "Bye, Izuru."

Then, he walks away. He doesn't dare look back.

Ever Hopeful,

Azar