A/N: sad things. set after Aizen's defeat, obviously. spoilers, as always.
A/N: title from the poem by dylan thomas
Drabble collection: when in doubt, bleach it out
We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points
Title: do not go gentle into that good night
Summary: Kira and Matsumoto, coping. –Gin/Matsumoto, Kira
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He set down his sake cup and leaned back in his chair, heaving a sigh. She was facedown on the table, her hair spilling everywhere.
"What was he like, back then?" he asked quietly.
She knew what he meant—what he couldn't say: when he died. She blinked, too drunk to really cry.
"Exactly the way you'd think," she murmured, not picking her head up from the table. Kira blinked slowly at her beneath his blonde bangs. "He was very strong, but he wasn't grinning." She could recall him opening one eye and looking at Ichigo—she saw the acceptance registering in his features, how his tense bones suddenly relaxed. Finished.
(But how could you be finished? She wanted to howl. Just, let me—)
"I'm glad the Captain was strong," Kira answered awkwardly.
It wasn't what he meant, it wasn't what he wanted to say, exactly—but how could you form words to say something like this? He ran his hand heavily over his face, as if wiping away the tears that weren't there.
Something flinched in her; he'd called Gin Captain.
"He's always been strong," she told him, sitting up now. She did not slouch, the way a drunk would. Her back was ramrod straight, just her hair was a mess, and her eyes had dark circles under them.
"I was jealous of you, Rangiku," he confessed suddenly, putting his face in his hands on the table. "I wanted to know him like you know him."
She blinked, slowly, like he had. Everything seemed very slow now. She looked at her hands, lying loosely in her they were children, he used to lay there, in the little shack in the Rukongai. Back before she had hips and thighs, back before she was beautiful and she was still wearing cheap kimono. Gin looked almost exactly the same, in all of her memories. The same silver hair, so soft against her skin, the same slate blue eyes that were afraid to really open, the same mouth that alternated between grinning and flattening. She treasured that mouth.
(It is the mouth of a snake, he'd told her once, when they were young.
He'd said it so softly and so sadly that she wept, right there in his arms.
Why are you crying? You must have known, he said. His mouth was not grinning then. You're so strange, Rangiku.)
"What would you like to know?" she asked.
Kira shuddered a moment. "I don't even know." He was still sitting with his face in his hands. "I don't know."
"I'd tell you anything," she said. We are the ones who must remember him well, she thought.
"I pointed my sword at Hinamori," he blurted. "For him." Now Kira was looking at her, the grief in his eyes so profound she could not breathe a moment, it was so stifling. "I could have killed her—anyone—for him."
"You two are very much alike," she said, her eyes unreadable.
(Stop crying, he'd said to her.
His hands were on her shoulders, pulling her away from his chest, and he tipped his head down to look into her face.
Stop it, Rangiku.
She noted the desperation in his voice—when had his voice become so hoarse?
Please—please, stop crying.)
"You're the only one he would have protected," Kira said. "He told me that, once."
Matsumoto didn't answer for several minutes. "He did?"
Kira looked hard at her. "Yes."
(It was the day Gin asked for Kira to be his Lieutenant. The two were walking together down the streets, a respectable distance apart because Kira did not understand this man and why he kept grinning and why did he want Kira, of all people?
You want to ask me a question, Gin had said, and he looked at Kira out of one eye, his grin lopsided and sinister. What is it?
Taken aback, the Soul Reaper figured it was useless to deny it. Yes, he said carefully. I've heard rumors about you.
Rumors? He sounded barely interested, but he was grinning.
Yes, Kira said again. That you're dangerous. That you don't care about anything, or anyone. Now Kira looked away. I just don't understand how to serve under you if that's the case.
Ah, well they're pretty much right, Gin had chuckled.
Kira caught the way he said it. Pretty much?
Gin's grin loosened some, flattened into merely a small smile. You see her, there? He pointed ahead of them, where a girl, her fair hair just brushing her shoulders, was walking with a scowling child. She laughed and teased the boy, and Kira noted how utterly different she was from Gin—full hair, full lips, a full body. His Captain next to him was all sharp edges and hunched shoulders.
She's the only one, Gin said, very seriously.)
Matsumoto had a strange look on her face then, sitting across from Kira at the table. She took another large swig of drink from the sake bottle, unable to process.
"He trusted you, very much, to have said that," she finally said. Kira's face looked surprised.
"He never told you—?"
Now Matsumoto smiled at him, very softly, and he remembered that she was beautiful. Very beautiful. "Can you even imagine Gin telling me something like that?" She shook her head. "We weren't quite like that."
Kira looked out the window. "The Captain was very private." But that was something I understood very well, he thought. How he felt about you.
(Why do you want me to be your Lieutenant, then? Kira had asked, very confused.
Gin looked at him, and he was not smiling. It was the first time Kira had seen this expression. Because you're sad, he told him. Then his eyes drifted back to the girl. Your sword understands pain.
Kira's grief became his badge of honor.)
They were both looking out the window now. She put her chin in her hand and sighed, closed her eyes.
(Rangiku, listen to me, listen to me, Gin was shaking her. I know you don't understand.
He patted her hair; it was still pretty short, not at all like the mane she would grow, when she was trying to catch his eye amongst the crowds of Seireitei.
I won't let anything happen to you, Rangiku. You won't ever have to cry again.
He smiled at her; she blinked at him.
I won't cry if you don't, she promised him, her tiny voice sounding young even to her own ears.
His smile turned secretive, even to her. It's a deal.
The next day, he became a Soul Reaper, and he had blood on his cheek. Are you turned away from me because you're crying? She wondered, following the small boy. Gin, Gin, don't—)
"How are we going to get past this?" Kira finally asked, unable to look at her. "He didn't even say good-bye."
"He didn't have to," she said. Now Kira looked at her, surprised once again by the depth of her emotions.
(I'm going to become a Soul Reaper, he said, turning his face away. She couldn't see his mouth; she wanted to know if he was smiling.)
"Everyday, since we children, he said good-bye."
(I'll fix it so Rangiku never cries again.)
She stood up now, and she looked so powerful against the sun in the window that Kira lost himself and felt tears rolling against his cheeks. This, this was the child that Gin pointed to on that day. He thought he could see her there, four feet tall and barefoot in the grass, the summertime girl with the snake's heart in her hands.
Don't cry, he wouldn't want you to cry, he thought vaguely, but she wasn't and he was.
She blinked, so bright, so beautiful.
(Let me come with you—but his sword was at her throat, and she could see, there, the tear in his eye, even as he went to Aizen, to cut him down. Even as he failed.)
"He's done the work for us, and now we just have to live, Kira. That is how we remember him." A very small smile tugged at her lips, but it was there.
(If you were to turn into a snake tomorrow and begin devouring humans, and from the same mouth you devoured humans, you cried out to me 'I love you!', would I still be able to say 'I love you' the same way I do today?)
The beautiful girl-woman-child closed her eyes. The smile remained. He was still there, in his pale skin and pale hair and indomitable spirit. Six foot two and handsome, her champion, her anti-hero.
(Yes, yes, yes. I do.)
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fin.
A/N: i can't really ship matsumoto with anyone else after seeing gin die. i cried way too hard for that guy. although, i might write some shippy crack fics for her with other folks. also, are they from the rukongai? i couldn't remember. all well. please review.