It was almost fifteen minutes later when there was a pounding on the door. Two small, bundled figures pushed their way in before Gin had even stood up. Snow and wind swirled in through the open door, and Rangiku gasped at the blast of cold.
"Zu-zu, you moron, get that door closed!" an elderly female voice commanded.
The second person exclaimed, "Yes, grandmother!" and pulled the door shut behind him.
The old woman immediately began unwrapping her scarf, revealing her gray head and sharp, black eyes in a very wrinkled face. Gin didn't like the looks of her at all. Squad Four had told him she was very 'skilled and experienced' but it now looked like that had just been code for old. He couldn't see how someone so old could possibly help Rangiku.
"So," she said as she continued to remove her outer layer. "You must be Gin-kun."
The way she looked at him, Gin felt like her statement was an accusation. "I'm Lieutenant Ichimaru of Squad Five," he answered, more than a little defensively.
"I know," she said, nodding knowingly. "I've heard all about you. I'm Ogawa Rumiko. This is my great-grandson, Zu-zu. He was the only one home or I wouldn't have brought him, but I needed some nice young muscles to get me through the snow. He's real impressed with all you shinigami, always watching to see you shunpo off to work. We live just across the street, not that you've noticed us."
Rangiku groaned, and her legs rode up as a much more serious contraction tore through her.
"And this is your poor bride," Rumiko said, stepping up into the room. "Poor thing's awful young to be learning why a man's sweet words ain't worth listening to."
The old woman practically shoved Gin out of the was as she knelt beside Rangiku. "You're going to be just fine, you sweet thing. I'm Rumiko-ba-chan, we've met before. Do you remember?"
Rangiku nodded. The elderly woman had spoken to her a couple of times, offering to teach her a few simple household chores, and Rangiku had shared some dried fruit with her as they sat on the step talking about children.
Rumiko turned back to Gin. "Men have no place in birthing. You and Zu-zu can go sit in the other room."
Gin looked from the old woman to Rangiku. He was well aware he was useless and really didn't want to be there, but leaving Rangiku with a stranger when she was so completely helpless-
"You heard me," the old woman said, batting him on the back of his head. "Go on, you're nothing but in the way here, looking at the poor girl like she might be dying; she ain't doing nothing but having a baby. Maybe you'll think twice before you get her with another one."
Rangiku couldn't help smiling as she watched her strong, arrogant husband being bullied out of the room by an old woman less than half his size. The woman swatted him more than once when she didn't think he was moving fast enough and shoved her grandson through the door right after him. "I don't want to hear one peep out of either or you for any reason. I'll let you know when you can come back, so don't try pestering me. The baby'll come when it comes. This is one of those times even men have to be patient."
Once she chased them off she came back to Rangiku's side with a small cup of tea. "This will help with the pain," she said, "You just sip it slowly."
Rangiku frowned at the bitter taste but forced herself to swallow it down. "Thank you."
"You've a fine looking man, there, even if he does do his best to hide it with all those silly faces he makes. I can see how he managed to sweet talk you."
Rangiku grinned. "He didn't sweet talk me, I sweet talked him," she bragged.
"Is that right?" Rumiko said, smiling back. "Good for you."
The second room was actually a usable room now though the front one was warmer and they still slept there. Wedding gift money had bought shelves to hold Gin's collections, and there was a table now with cushions set around it that took up most of the six mat space.
Gin crossed the room silently and sat with his back against the closet. He lifted his sheathed zanpakuto from its place in the the room's corner, where it had leaned side by side with Haineko.
He set Shinso against the floor before him and gripped the hilt in both hands. He could hear the zanpakuto in his mind, trying to speak to him, but he wasn't in the mood to listen. Holding onto the weapon was usually reassuring. It was a very concrete reminder of everything he had achieved. It was proof that could not be questioned that he was strong, one of the strongest in Soul Society, and that he was growing still.
But today it didn't help. He had been so busy focusing all of his energy on becoming strong enough to stop Aizen that he had forgotten the dangers of simply being alive. Aizen was not the only danger that could steal Rangiku from him. He had resolved to kill Aizen simply for hurting Rangiku, but right now, hearing her low moans through the paper doors, he was well aware he could hurt her worse.
"I'm going to go to the Academy," the old woman's great-grandson said suddenly, pulling Gin from his dark thoughts.
He turned slowly to look at the boy, a fragile-looking, little, fair-haired boy. He was so young, bright-eyed, and enthusiastic. What an easy, happy life he must have, always within the protective walls of Seireitei. Gin could see his hope and confidence so easy to read on his face.
"That's good," he said, finally. "We always need more cannon fodder."
The boy's eyes widened. "I'm not-I'm-I'm not going to be canon fodder!" he protested.
"No?" Gin said. "You going to be a healer like your grandma? Stay in the back lines, let others risk their lives while you stay nice and safe?"
"I'm going to kill hollows, and I'm going to get strong and learn shikai and bankai, and some day I'm going to be a captain."
Gin smiled at that, a very not-nice smile. "You a captain? Only one in a thousand even have the potential. The rest of you, sooner or later you're hollow food."
"I'm not afraid," the boy said, raising his chin in defiance.
"Then you're a fool. We are the gods of death. Every time a shinigami draws his blade someone is going to die. It is never a game, and fear is the only thing that keeps us alive."
The boy stared at Gin as his words soaked in. "Are you afraid?" he asked finally.
"Every moment of every day," Gin answered.
"Then why did you become a shinigami?"
At that moment Rangiku let out a particularly loud groan, and Gin's knuckles turned white as his grip tightened on the zanpakuto's hilt. "To become strong enough." He closed his eyes and bowed his head to Shinso's hilt.
The boy stared at the shinigami, but Gin didn't move again. He just sat there, the weapon standing with its sheathed tip against the tatami, held unmoving in his hands. The boy could feel his reiatsu like a dark cloud churning around him, growing thicker and darker by the moment, until it was almost visible to his eyes.
There was power there like the boy had never seen, dangerous power, to kill and destroy, and the boy realized something in that moment. There was no such thing as strong enough. No matter how strong Gin became, even if he could slaughter millions with his bankai and became general of the Gotei, it still wouldn't be enough, because all he wanted was the power to protect his wife from any pain, and that was impossible. Life required pain.
After a wait so long it seemed infinite the paper door was slid aside and Rumiko smiled down at the two boys. Her grandson had fallen asleep against the wall, but Gin did not look like he would ever sleep again. He raised wide, frightened eyes to the woman's face. "Is she-"
"Gin," Rangiku's weak voice called from the front room.
He was beside her with an instant burst of shunpo. "Rangiku," he whispered, kneeling by her head. He pushed the sweat-soaked hair from her face, tracing the precious curve of her forehead, her cheek. He stared at her like she was the most wonderful thing he'd ever seen, like all the world was wonderful because she was there.
Rangiku smiled at him, a happy, exhausted smile. "Don't you want to meet your son?" she asked, looking down at the tiny person nestled between her breasts.
His eyes dropped to the baby, and his smile faded a little at the white hair, laying like feathers over the round head. It brought back memories of his own childhood, shunned and cursed, called a demon child-but that would not happen to their child, not here, in Seireitei. His son would not be mocked for his appearance.
The boy seemed strangely pale. He was wrapped in a soft blue blanket, but his skin was not a contrasting pink. It was almost as white as his hair. Only his scrunched up face seemed normal, eyes closed tight, a stubby little nose, and little round mouth all puckered and pouty. As Gin watched, he nuzzled against his mother's breast and made the funniest little whimpering noise.
"Oh, do you think he's hungry?" Rangiku asked, and Gin's eyes returned to her face. She was staring at the baby with an adoration he had never seen before. She was absolutely glowing with her love of the baby. She radiated happiness.
Rumiko returned to her side, and the two women talked about feeding the baby, and the old woman got some pillows and helped Rangiku sit and get adjusted to nurse the baby.
It was while the baby was suckling and Rangiku was talking to him in the silliest little voice, welcoming him to the world and his family and promising him every happiness that Gin decided he probably didn't mind sharing Rangiku, not if the boy could make her so happy.
"What should we call him?" Rangiku said suddenly, looking up at Gin with sparkling eyes.
"You made him. You should get to name him," Gin answered.
She burst out laughing. "We both made him, silly, in the Tenth Division training gym or maybe up on the kitchen roof-we will never tell him that. Doesn't he look just like you? Gin, he's such a pretty baby. Don't you think he's pretty? Gin? What should we name him?"
Gin smiled at his wife. She had reached that point of exhaustion where she would get very silly and start laughing at the most random things. "He's very pretty, Ran-chan," he agreed.
"Right?" she said. "What should we call you, little Ichimaru-san?"
"Whatever you name him, he will probably always be called Shiro," Gin told her, reaching out to stroke the baby's head lightly.
"Did they call you Shiro, Gin?" Rangiku asked, looking up into her husband's face. "Two pretty little Shiros, that's what I have. How lucky am I!"
"We'll call him Toshiro," Gin said. "That's a nice name, nice kanji."
"Ichimaru Toshiro," Rangiku said, thoughtfully. "I like it, but I will call him Shiro-chan, because he is mine-oh, I think he's fallen asleep-is that alright?" She looked over at Rumiko, who had been moving about the tiny house cleaning while the couple talked.
"Of course, and you'd better sleep too. That's the first rule of being a mother: always sleep when the baby does. He's sure to wake you up again soon enough," the old woman told her. Then she turned to Gin, "You make sure she does, and don't be letting her get up to cook or clean either, not for two weeks at least. It's your job to take care of both of them now, and if I find you're slacking off I'll come after you with my cane."
"I believe you," Gin said, smiling. "Don't worry. Rangiku won't be allowed to move an inch without me. That is one place you can trust me. Thank you, Rumiko-ba-chan. I owe you more than I can possibly say."
Rumiko nodded. "S'what I thought. I think your Captain Unohana will be here to check on them both soon as the storm lets up, but I can tell you she won't find a healthier mother and child anywhere. He's small as he's early, but he's a strong one. You're not going to have to worry about him. He's got a solid grip on this life. You're a lucky one, Lieutenant Ichimaru of Squad Five. I hope you know that."
"Yes, ma'am," he agreed.
"Well, c'mon, Zu-zu, wake up so we can go to bed," Rumiko said, shaking her grandson awake. "Time for you to walk me home."
The boy sat up, blinking wide blue eyes and mumbled some incomprehensible protest. He slowly dragged himself to his feet and stumbled toward the door. His grandmother wrapped him in his coat and scarf and another heavy coat before she bundled herself back up for the cold.
She looked back one last time at the little family. Rangiku lay on her side, fast asleep with the tiny boy curled up against her, and Gin had laid down behind her, and was invisible behind Rangiku's pile of blankets, except his arm which reached around her waist to hold on to her in his sleep.