Flowers From Hell


Salt in the Wound


Summary for this chapter: "You smile in your sleep, too. You were smiling when my captain came in here for you, every day, diligently, twice a day sometimes if he could make it, and you, you selfish bastard, after making him hurt and cry and bleed, you didn't make a single damn sign that you could hear him."

The Gin x Tôshirô thing? Oh yeah. That's real now. Patented Ginshirô (TM) for everyone

Gin=like the shittiest bf ever but Tôshirô=the patience of an angel

That pretty much sums up their relationship

Still don't own 'em...


Gin wakes up to pins and needles and a pounding headache. He manages one strained sigh before a voluptuous figure is looming over him, and he stares up inquisitively at the form.

"You ass," his sister hisses.

Gin blinks, surprised by the anger lacing her words. "Excusez-moi, Ran-chan," he says, then winces when the words come out harsher than they should, leaving his throat raw and his wounds throbbing—oh, and there it is, he remembers what happened. Aizen, the rat-bastard, he's what happened, and—

Oh. Oh.

"Shiro-chan," he whispers, without thinking, and Rangiku's lips curve downward in disapproval.

"That's right," she says, haughtily. "That's right. My captain came here every day after you were admitted, crying over you, cursing you... Hell, I even think I heard him pray once." Gin's eyes widen imperceptibly—Tôshirô was never like that, he was calm, collected, and above all else, he believed that no higher deity would take your hand and help you; you had to help yourself, or you'd be lost in this dog-eat-dog world...

Has he shattered even Tôshirô's stolid beliefs in life?

"You smile too much," Rangiku adds as an afterthought, and the smile that Gin was about to give drops like water off his face. "You smile in your sleep, too. You were smiling when my captain came in here for you, every day, diligently, twice a day sometimes if he could make it, and you, you selfish bastard, after making him hurt and cry and bleed, you didn't make a single damn sign that you could hear him."

Gin opens his mouth, then closes it. There are too many things, and not enough things, to be said in this one moment. He ruins it, as he usually does, by not saying or doing anything, and judging by Rangiku's disappointed exhale, she expected it.

"Go." She waves her hand at him almost dismissively, and when he gives her a confused look (which for him is a miracle in itself), she makes the motion again, more violently this time. "Go, I said! Go see him! Shoo!"

Gin thuds out of the cot lacking his usual grace, and winces when the impact jars him. For a second, there is pained sympathy in Ragiku's sky-blue eyes, filled with silent empathy for her suffering superior, a throbbing heartache for her hurting brother, and rage at the world that bent them all into shapes like this. Then it's gone and her expression is hard and unyielding as she makes to bodily wrestle Gin out of his hospital room.


Gin lingers at the doorway for a moment, his reiatsu wrangled into concealment. Tôshirô's hard at work, as per usual, his posture horrendous and his eyes narrowed in concentration, except there's a small difference from before, a kind of distress in the lines of his pale face and anguish in his curved, hunched shoulders that wasn't there before.

His little Shiro-chan. Oh, how he's changed.

There's a little shifting, rustling sound as Gin winces again when his wounds give a particularly harsh sting, and Tôshirô's senses must have gotten much better, because his turquoise eyes snap up, then widen. He drops the brush he's holding and stands suddenly, his eyes wide with sudden hope, his hands trembling, and Gin notes absently that during his four- or five-month coma, Tôshirô has gotten taller, not by much but just a little bit, enough so that the highest tip of the tallest spike nestled atop his silver head is just at Gin's sloping shoulder. (He files this away for later use, perhaps teasing.)

He's changed his hairstyle, too, and he looks older than the kid he used to be, he looks a little more like teenager than child.

That teenager is currently staring into Gin's eyes, his expression carefully guarded. Gin is debating on whether or not to retreat when Tôshirô's eyes open and he gives Gin The Look that prompts him to sweep the smaller right off his feet into a bridal carry, forehead to forehead, Gin smiling genuinely for once and Tôshirô laughing, actually laughing.

Rangiku is literally there three seconds later, her hair flying every which way, ash-blue eyes wide upon hearing her captain's laugh that hasn't made an appearance in nearly a year now. She smiles in relief, then that smile quickly twists into a wicked grin as she calls, "If you're going to fuck in the office, please inform me first!"

Tôshirô immediately clambers up onto Gin's shoulder nimbly, gracefully, like he's done a thousand times, perching on it like a songbird on a branch, to verbally spar with his buxom lieutenant, but this time careful to avoid Gin's stinging wounds (because of course Tôshirô would have noticed that Gin was flinching).

If Rangiku's laugh is heartier than it had been in decades, and Gin's grin is wider and more sincere in intention, and Tôshirô's wide blue-green eyes are filled with glittering laughter, no one makes a comment.

It's the moment that counts.