13 ways to say goodbye
Summary: Years of unsaid words, and thirteen ways to say goodbye. What to do once the fireworks are over? (GinxRangiku)
A/N: This is a collection of drabbles. The timeline is all jumbled up, and though the months are in order, the years actually aren't. Spoilers up to 195.
-
1. September
Their first meeting occurred sometime at late summer, when the tips of leaves were turning golden and the top of trees were filled with red, red, leaves. She left the alley where she could only see red and collapsed. When she finally opened her eyes again, it was a single dried persimmon, hanging from a boy's hand. Taking it, she gave it a small bite and almost instantly spat out--it was too sweet and weird for a fruit, dried and too disheveled as eating them was like chewing sweetened sand, but she finished it all the same.
After the boy with the weird name and ever-existent grin helped her up to her feet, she could see the color of the sky in his eyes. It was the start—she could almost describe it as the sweet beginning.
2. October
"If you keep dressing like that, people will start thinking your only ability lies between your legs."
It was something on impulse, really. Years in the alley sporting a more than generous proportions got her more than enough unwanted attention, and a girl needed to learn for self-defense. One moment she was writing on her note pad, next thing she knew, the boy was clutching a broken nose. The rest of the class stared at both of them in either utter shock or amazement. Ise Nanao actually looked up from her book.
Gin has the decency of looking unabashed as he wiped the blood off his nose and actually smirked before sauntering off.
No boy or man ever dared to give her nick names that equals with harlot or peer into her robe the wrong way anymore after that, and she wondered if that was Gin's true intention from the start.
3. November
One day, came one dreaded question: "Do you love me, Gin?"
(He looked at her, not smiling. "I love you," he imagined himself utter, "To the point of wanting to shoot your heart to death."
He supposed answering that and really meant that would make him in-character, at least.)
But they lived in a contradictory world. They all wanted to be defined, but they didn't want to be labeled. They wanted to believe in fate or destiny, but when confronted by it they refuse it and fight it as self-proclaimed self-determinists. They wanted love but they wanted to be independent.
He remembered Rangiku, crying out words he knew she had bottled up for years. "What are you trying to do to me?" And her numerous questions that remained unsaid rang clear in his mind: Whydoyoualwaysleavewithouttellingmewhereyou'regoingWheredoyouwanttogoWhatdoyouwanttobeAreyoujustafraidofbeingloved?
Looking back at her, Gin answered the woman with the only way he knew all of these years. He turned on his heel and left, the captain's vest billowing on his back.
If there's one thing Ichimaru Gin excelled at everything else, it was perhaps discrepancy. And yet, ironically, there's one person that still assumed he hadn't changed a bit in the inside.
4. December
"You should have seen it, Kira. They're really beautiful, even though it was freezing," He heard Vice Captain Hinamori, chatting with his vice captain in front of the hall.
"What about it?" Gin queried, watching Hinamori squirmed at the sight of him and taking a cautious step back.
Izuru turned around to greet him. "Hinamori went to see fireworks on the roof of the west training hall last night to celebrate Captain Hitsugaya's birthday, Captain."
"Ah," Gin replied, shrugging. "But don't you think we're supposed to watch them at summer? It'd be freezing, after all, what foolish person wanted to see fireworks at winter?"
"Ichimaru, will you get out of the way? You're blocking the door."
The grouchy, childish voice of his fellow captain came from the back. Gin turned around, seeing Hitsugaya Toushirou and his vice captain. His words surely didn't go unheard by them, and as they brushed past with Hinamori in tow and left him with Izuru, he could only remember Rangiku's mask like face, cold and haunting.
5. January
Months later, he woke her up in the middle of one chilly night, and together they went through the streets of the closest district to earth. She climbed up the roof with not as much ease as he did, and when Gin finally pulled her up to sit on the red tiles of the roof, she was already out of breath and soaking with sweat. The winter sky was empty before them.
"What are we doing here?" Rangiku asked, trying to catch her breath.
He spread the ragged cloth that they've used from blankets back at their dingy shack on his shoulders. "Sit here and wait. You'll see."
Several minutes passed until the winter air attacked her brittle bones, and she rubbed her palms furiously over her arms, fighting to stop her teeth from chattering. "It's getting cold, Gin."
He motioned her to sit in front of him, hand rising to an invitation. Slowly Rangiku made her way across the roof tiles, carefully in the way so she wouldn't plummet down to the ground and broke herself to pieces. Positioning herself between his knees, she felt his warmth seeping through from his chest to her back, and Gin placed his arms around her, shrouding the blanket around them. Snow started to fall softly around them, shrouding the red roof with pure white.
Rangiku, he noticed, could easily fit in his arms, like a kitten.
"What are we waiting for?" she asked again, back quivering against his chest, in a much impatient tone.
Her question was answered by a loud voice, followed by a light that seemed to cut the winter sky upward, an explosion, and bright colors that scattered right in front of them. The second soon followed, this time a bright green, and she watched as they dispersed about one by one. Much below the display of fireworks, she saw people with torches in their hands and explosive swirl on their outfits, yelling. Not until she heard a distinct laugh that she realized they were only talking and arguing over the next fireworks that they might launch.
"Happy belated birthday, Rangiku," His warm breath tickled her ear, and she almost couldn't hear him amidst the explosion. She turned around to face him, and found herself bound too tightly in his grip to bend.
"What?"
"The day we first met is your birthday," He said, pointing to the sky. "Don't you think they have a distinct feeling compared to the summer ones?"
If there was one distinguishable trait, she realized, was the fact she was shaking to her very bones. Her eyes stayed at the bright display, ear drums thumping with each explosion, as each of the fire fall. All the while, her eyelids were getting heavier as she saw only white, and all she could feel was his chest against her back, his arms and legs around her. "Thank you, Gin."
She never got to hear his reply.
Meanwhile, Gin has turned from the fireworks to Rangiku's rhythmic breathing as her head lolled on the boy's shoulder, warm breath caressing his neck. His body was getting colder, but inside, it was turning to be quite the opposite.
6. February
Ichimaru found one package wrapped in a silver wrapping paper on February 14th, beside the stack of files and documents on top of his desk. He had heard about the day called Valentine in the living world and humans' tradition of heart shaped chocolates (and of course, Shunsui wailing at the nearby teahouse: "NOOOOOOOO, NANAO-CHAAAAAAAAAAN--") It was a mere round shape with the odd image of a fox's face scribbled on top of it with cream. The only odd thing was, chocolate was supposed to be brown, but the one he held was charred black and smelled suspiciously of misplaced seasoning. He had learned to never eat suspicious looking food no matter how starved he was. Growing up with Rangiku and her cooking taught him about this the hard way.
"Izuru," Breaking one small chunk from the chocolate with the size of his thumb, he tossed it to his vice captain who took it without questioning, although he surely didn't miss Kira's frown. "Eat it."
Kira hesitated, but the obedient boy he was, finally placed the chunk in his mouth. Ichimaru witnessed one of the most amusing things unfolding before his eyes – as Izuru's face turned from red to purple to blue and finally green in just a split second, before screaming and running off with a breakneck speed to the men's room. Later, the vice captain walked back to the office with tear stains so evident he didn't bother to wipe it.
The next day, as he walked down the hallways for a patrol, he saw Rangiku strolling with Ise Nanao.
"Rangiku, what ever happened to the failed chocolate you made? You know, the one where you just dump everything in? I remember you putting in things like chili powder and mustard and onions..."
"I gave it to someone."
Nanao's cringed and shook her head in shame. "That poor guy! He might be thinking you wanted to kill him. I sure hope you didn't give it to your captain. Just when I thought you're finally getting off your lazy ass to cook for somebody else--"
Matsumoto shrugged with a mischievous, furtive smile. "He deserves it. I kind of think he'll like it."
Later that evening, when Rangiku returned to the 10th division's office, she found a message on top of her desk, written in hand writing that she thought she vaguely recognized:
'Thanks for the amusing chocolate. Please look forward to White Day.'
No sender, no signature, it could have been from a ghost. She couldn't think anything worth of that chocolate coming from Gin, and stashed the message in the corner of her drawer. Nanao had insisted she has a unique, if not, peculiar taste in her cooking. The look Nanao was giving her after spoke, and also men.
7. March
March 14th rolled by, and Rangiku looked over the couch to watch Hinamori opening a small package from the boy genius. Momo even hugged him, squealing thank you's to the boy's shoulder, and Rangiku loved her captain's priceless expression to death. It has taken all of her will power and sheer respect to Hitsugaya to fight off the urge of going to the 12th division and borrow that thing they call camera.
Then Hinamori spotted the box wrapped in silver that had arrived on her desk this morning, and practically asked her, eyes wide with delight. "Rangiku, is that a White Day present?" Truth be told, she was so ready to dump that box into the trash can before Hinamori pranced to the package, shaking it to her direction. "Come on, open it!"
She really feared what's inside—Gin always had this nasty sense of humor since the old days, and she half suspected a dead rat or a can of insecticide inside. Waving her hand dismissively, Rangiku returned to her magazine. "Naah, I don't feel like it."
After minutes of incessant plea, she finally gave in to Hinamori's puppy dog eyes, and began tearing through the paper half-heartedly. Asking Momo to open it would be outrageous—she might have a heart attack or fainted--and then Hitsugaya would be chasing her around with Hyourinmaru.
She made herself count to three before finally revealing what's inside, and in that instance, automatically closed her eyes and braced herself for a scream. However, instead of a horrified shriek, Momo only made out a baffled voice. "Huh?"
Rangiku slowly opened her eyes and paid closer attention to the box's content on her lap. Inside was a lone, yellow persimmon--The very first thing she had received from Gin. It was still round, the fruit in its perfect condition, not the dried, disheveled one she once forced down her throat. In an instant, she comprehended the single message it conveyed: Nothing ever stays the same.
"Rangiku?"
She glanced up to see a worried look on Hinamori's face. Over at his desk, Hitsugaya was frowning less than usual at her.
"I'm all right," She waved them off. "I only got something in my eye."
8. April
That spring the academy was graced by the enrollment of the great son of the nobility, Kuchiki Byakuya, who walked along the hallway and corridors filled with pointing and whispering students with the pride of an aristocrat, as if it was an empty hallway before him.
One might easily forgets how beautiful a girl might look, Ichimaru thought.
All attention to the noble's son aside, Gin found the sight of Rangiku in the white and red of the academy's uniform breathtaking, like she had shed the ragged yukata that had been her fur and replaced it with fresher, newer fur that made her glisten in the sun. Her feminine features were generously showing through every curve the uniform provided.
She was crouching in front of a fellow student whose black hair was clipped on, cleaning the scattered books and stationeries that Ichimaru considered as the aftereffect of an unexpected bump.
Matsumoto has a chance to look up as he strolled closer; as she noticed with widened eyes the unmistakable spiritual pressure that he didn't bother to suppress (he had been the one who taught her how to detect them, foolish, foolish Gin), and didn't know why until he experienced Rangiku's lips started to form.
"Gi-"
Was all she managed to pronounce out as he walked past her, while Ichimaru wore the look that he thought reminded himself remotely with Kuchiki's son.
9. May
After being assigned to 10th division, Rangiku took the opportunity one day to locate the shack she used to live in. She didn't have much time—Hitsugaya was practically tearing his throat when she sauntered off the office after noticing the huge pile of paperwork on top of her desk, feigning a headache and saying that she really needed the remedy from the 4th division.
When she finally found it, the hut wasn't the same anymore, wood jutted out disorderly, and nearly half of it was already gone, either broken down by nature or simply torn by the citizens of Rukongai who have strayed out of the alleys and in desperate need of firewood.
She realized that all that was left of her childhood were just herself and her memories, and even now, as she sometimes watched Gin prowling down the hallways, giving people permanent mental scars, she has great difficulty of believing either her own eyes or her recollections.
10. June
Kuchiki Rukia was once a frequent visitor of the Shinigami Women Association. Chappy fetish aside, Rangiku saw that the younger girl held more pent-up emotion than she seemed—she should comprehend perfectly well, after maintaining that look for decades herself.
Seven bottles of sake later, Rukia was more than willing to share.
"And you know what that dumb ass did? Fell of the tree after falling asleep!" Rukia stopped only to drain her cup. "Probably broke his ribs too, but--"
The Kuchiki girl must have seen something out of the window, as she suddenly stumbled to stand on top of the chair and made a declaration, shaking her prized sake bottle back and forth. "Today," she slurred with the tone of a patriot, "I'm going to drink until I throw up."
The rest of the association could only watch (Yachiru and Kiyone cheered on) as Rukia drained sake from the bottle like water. Droplets of alcohol washed her flushed cheeks, and when she was done, she slammed the bottle down with all her might, letting out a cry of satisfaction that reminded Rangiku of those depressed, middle-aged men that crowded for countless nights at the bars. Then Rukia passed out, slamming face first to the table. Hard. Kiyone slapped her own forehead. Isane sighed heavily. Soi Fong helped herself to another cup of tea.
Yachiru hopped up to the table and poked Rukia. "Is she dead?"
Nanao tapped Rangiku's shoulder, shooting her a homicidal look. "You," Ise enunciated crossly, her glasses intensifying the murderous stare. "are going to bring her back to the Kuchiki house."
"Huh? What?.!" Rangiku stared back at her incredulously. "And face Kuchiki Byakuya by myself?"
"Rangiku," Nanao said through gritted teeth. "You're the one who kept pouring her sake."
Outside, the rain has evolved to an intense drizzle as she pulled the younger girl's arm on her shoulder, hurrying along the path, thinking of a reason that would escape her from murder in Kuchiki house as the large double gates loomed over: 'Hi there, Captain Kuchiki! So sorry about your little sister's condition, but she's the one who pried the sake bottle off my-our hands and kept thinking it was juice. And no, the reason I'm not coming in because even if I think your Senbonzakura is very, very, very gorgeous--stop placing your hand on the hilt, please!-- I don't want to experience the frightening side of it yet. And yes, we'll stop inviting her to the association's meetings if you insist. Once again, I'm-we're VERY sorry. Bye now!'
Maybe she'd escape with that. Maybe. Rangiku thought Rukia stirred in her sleep, and heard her murmur. "Kaien..."
Gotei 13 had known Shiba Kaien once. He had been a role model for anyone aiming the 2nd seat--his vigorous spirit made him shine through and through. But the story of his demise was one they'd told over the years as a prone example that a shinigami must never lose their mind over emotion, even if they've been in a promising, comfortable seat, even if their very own world was gravitating towards the ruin. Though Kaien might have been contented—after all, his last words were apology and gratitude to his slayer.
Dying in the hands of your loved one is perfect bliss, Captain Aizen once said in a calm smile, almost disturbing way she's never seen. It's the most gratifying end one could have.
The only thing she knew, in a dreadful moment, was that tears were thicker than blood. Rangiku shifted the girl closer, and silently prayed in illicit hope that she would never share the same fate, refusing to believe providence could be that unkind.
Years later, as she dug Haineko's edge against Gin's neck, Rangiku bitterly realized she was already doing her own approach of the adage.
11. July
"Ah, such a shame."
She didn't feel like turning her neck to see the newcomer. For years she learned the way Gin's voice rang, she could pick him out even in the most crowded market of Rukongai. Rangiku tore into the pink cotton candy and began eating it.
He could see her surrounded by heaps of chocolate bananas, takoyaki boxes, empty sake bottles, and chunks of half-eaten fish-bread practically from where she was sitting on the roof tiles. The place already resembled her room.
"I haven't talk to you for years and I was already embarrassing, Captain Ichimaru?" She looked at him through the corner of her eye, Gin tiptoeing playfully at the edge of the roof, and sat beside her.
"Since it's summer and there's the summer festival, I thought I'd see you in a yukata. Not that the uniform is ugly, but of course, you look good in anything."
She was wiping the sugar that fell on her chest, smearing pink all over black, when she realized Gin was watching her. "I'm not giving you this."
"It's not the cotton candy that I was looking at."
"Don't you have other people to terrorize?"
"I figured that tonight my victim will be you. Besides, half of the festival's goods are already here," He reached over and took a fox face paper mask, placing it over his face. "I see you still like the kids' stuff. Don't tell me you buy this for your pint-sized captain?"
"You don't need that, Gin, you're--"
He dropped the mask and smirked at her. "I'm perfectly aware of what other people call me behind my back, Rangiku."
He took a sake bottle from her hand, tasting the faint sweetness of pink candy on the bottle's rim before returning it to her.
They watched as the first firework sizzled up, tearing apart the to multi colors. The Shibas have definitely improved and honed their specialty to perfection, because the display was much more beautiful than what they have seen years ago.
"It's not the same, isn't it?"
You can't see the same sunset twice. He wondered if this applied to fireworks and everything else.
"My," He heard her mutter sardonically, "Whoever said that you're supposed to watch fireworks at summer?"
"They reminded me of you."
Rangiku turned her face slowly, and he watched how her eyes seemed to soften at his words, and knew he'd tear her defenses down. For a moment, she looked at him with mixed, unsaid emotions before drawing off a heavy sigh, realizing what game he's been playing.
"Gin," She began softly, voice barely heard amidst the explosion, "If you have no intention of staying, you better leave now."
He shrugged, and rose to his feet. "I'd wish you a nice summer, but it turns out we're gonna have busy weeks ahead of us."
There was a tug on the edge of his captain's vest that felt unlike the wind as he turned around. He pictured the tips of her fingers brushing at the hem, barely pulling, stopping him from leaving.
If only he had turned around to look.
12. August
"Oy, Matsumoto. Wake up."
Naturally such a voice wouldn't even stir her, but Rangiku's eyes flickered open slowly at this. The very first view greeting her was Hitsugaya's imminent scowl, looking at her almost with a glower. "You'll catch a cold sleeping here."
The 4th division's wall was easily not the best place for a nap, and Rangiku took a moment rising wobbly to her feet, shaking her head to remove any giddiness. "I fell asleep waiting for you, Captain," She kneaded her neck and tried to diminish any look of pity that might come across her face, since Hitsugaya loathed underestimation the most. "How's Hinamori?"
Hitsugaya's grimace disappeared almost instantly, replaced with a dejected look that made Rangiku regretted her question.
"Why don't you come in to see her?"
He slid the door open, and for a moment, judging from Toushirou's tone, she thought Hinamori was finally up and about. But the view greeting her in the ward was the same, as Hinamori Momo still laid there as if in deep sleep. The girl has lost all the life her face used to have, and Matsumoto could easily point out Hinamori's protruding cheek bones, even in the darkness of the ward. She stood motionless at the door sill, afraid of intervening their private expanse as the boy prowled across the room with silent steps, eyes staying at his old friend's lifeless face.
"Captain, I'm...going to the living world with Renji and the others."
Hitsugaya stopped right in front of Hinamori's pillow, his rigid back facing her, and Matsumoto couldn't imagine his current look. After all, the girl was too precious for him, and he loved her too much that it hurts, too much that it was starting to crack his too mature pride in Matsumoto's eyes.
"Are you going to look for him, Matsumoto?"
Silence.
"What will you do if you meet him?" Hands balling to fists, the boy's voice started to shook considerably. "What will you do if the man you knew never existed in the first place?"
But I saw him, Rangiku wanted to say, the boy who I thought was dead all these years. Bidding farewell and apologizing was never Ichimaru Gin's field, and neither was her. For decades she waited for those words, and ironically, after she finally heard them coming from Gin for the first time, she had trouble sleeping for a week. A perfect lure to make her crave him all over again. Damn you, Gin. Damn you. I'd have preferred you say Fuck off and die, bitch, so I could just go down there and choke you to death and not think of you. But no, you just have the nerve to finally turn around for a last minute apology.
"What will you do if he just refuses to look at you anymore?"
Out of sheer desperation, Matsumoto vaguely realized in Hitsugaya's broken voice and almost hitched breath, the last two barbed questions weren't meant only for her. Rangiku watched quietly as Hitsugaya's fists trembled and his shoulders shook. The drip of Hinamori's IV echoed vacantly in the room.
The bitter, sullen woman inside her desired to chide, 'Love is vastly overrated'. "Somebody once told me...the pain of leaving and being left behind is the same. Things like sadness and loneliness don't need to exist. They're cool things to shoulder, but nobody will ever be mature enough to understand them," And she almost added, 'let's be like fireworks, Captain,' before halting to a realization that she'd have trouble keeping her own words.
If not--I'm afraid they'll drown me soon.
It feels like opening a bottle of prized liquor that you've been keeping for decades. When you pop open the cap, pour it into a glass, inhale the rich scent before taking a first sip – like tasting the one true drink for the very first time. Then the next day you'll wake up with your head pounding, whole body aching and sick to your stomach over something you've cherished for decades.
And instead of days, the aftertaste of the liquor labeled Goodbye will last you for years.
13. September
"I wish you all success in this mission," Captain Yamamoto said, cane dipping slightly on cue. "You may be dismissed, except for 10th division vice captain Matsumoto Rangiku."
For the exception of Hitsugaya, the rest of the team exchanged confused looks. But they eventually left, while Toushirou was still standing his ground with arms crossed before his chest. Matsumoto tried to maintain a façade that she realized kept slipping in front of the Captain General's stare.
"Hitsugaya, you may leave," Old Yama's tone indicated the matter couldn't be asserted enough, and she saw persistence in her captain's eyes flickered for a second before walking off to the exit.
"I heard," The Captain General began after Hitsugaya was finally out of the room, with a voice intended as loud enough only for her to hear, "That you used to know Ichimaru Gin back in Rukongai. What is your relationship with him?"
He was-
So many answers stormed her mind all at once that Rangiku suddenly felt faint. He was my savior the one who had given me enough happiness to appreciate life and just when I thought I've given up all of my hope on him he finally turned around and broke down my resolve.
He once meant everything in the world to me.
Deeply, she knew voicing by her thought out loud would just brand her as another traitor. But she couldn't find a lie smart enough that Captain Yamamoto's eyes couldn't pierce through, and a conversation she once held with Hitsugaya vaguely floated across her mind.
'Seeing your colleague and junior fight like that probably puts you in a tough spot, isn't it?'
'My...colleague?'
"He was a former colleague, Captain Yamamoto," Anything more would be considered extraneous, she concluded, and tried to pay more attention to his knee instead of his face. Hours seemed to pass as he glowered at her and for awhile Rangiku thought the old man's fierce look would make her keel over and die on the spot.
"I see," Yamamoto sighed. "You may be dismissed."
Hitsugaya was leaning back to the 1st division's wall when she tried to fight for breathe outside. "I hope you didn't answer with this," The boy said, holding up one of his little finger.
It'd be the perfect birthday present, she thought dryly. Bitter endings or not, Matsumoto Rangiku could only knew not to forget but to remember.
end