The longer I work on this story the more sad and just pitiful Gin's story feels. Yeah, he acted like a bad guy to the point where any decent person would say this is too much, but if you think about it he got himself into it when he was just a kid. Joining Aizen obviously wasn't the best way to fight him but is a kid who's never known any kindness or even decent treatment from any adult really going to consider any option that would require looking to anyone else for help?
And once he was in there was very literally no way out. He could never know if Aizen was watching him and he knew Aizen was the sort to play with people and test them. Gin could never take a single step out of line without risking his life, and he really did believe than no one else could defeat Aizen because his bankai was so perfect.
It's no wonder Gin waited until the very last minute. He was always waiting for the perfect chance. If he was more reckless and less prone to thinking out his actions he might have tried something years earlier, and he might have succeeded, but, being who he was, his own natural caution that had kept him and Rangiku alive in Rukongai was his downfall.
Aizen sat at his low desk, slowly writing with a fine brush and ink, and behind him Gin sat and fidgeted as he tried to wait for his former captain to complete his work.
He noticed a loose thread in his hakama cuff and started tugging at it. He told himself he'd send it in to be repaired when he got back to the Third, but for now it was just irritating enough to be distracting.
He had almost entirely unstitched the hem before Aizen turned around. "We have a very promising group of students at the Academy now," he told Gin.
Gin looked up, abruptly. "Do we? That's nice," he said, quickly, hoping he hadn't missed anything important.
"You met them as well in that little exercise gone wrong," Aizen reminded him.
"Oh, Zu-zu and those two others, the red-head and the little girl? They did seem pretty good for First Years," Gin said. "The little girl liked you; didn't even notice me, though, bit rude."
Aizen smiled at Gin's annoyance. If he didn't know better he might believe Gin didn't like being overlooked. "I think they will prove useful. I have selected all three for entrance to my division, and after I have had more time to get to know them I will assign them to suit their skills."
"Zu-zu will be Division Four. It's in his blood," Gin said. "Looked like he might have a thing for the little girl too. That could be fun."
"Fun?" Aizen repeated.
"Young love is always amusing," Gin said. "I'm sure I can make him quite miserable while being very supportive. Ah, the joy of being a confidante!"
"Please try to remember not everything is about your entertainment. The boy's attachment to Hinamori may be useful but not if you systematically crush it," Aizen said, seriously. "I expect she will do for my new lieutenant, and one of the boys should be adequate to replace Suzuki within the next few years, if my estimation of their skills is correct."
"Suzuki's going to need replacing?" Gin asked, a smile spreading across his lips.
"My next arrancar will soon need testing. It should be simple enough to align with a Third Division mission to Rukongai. Suzuki and a small team should be adequate. Did you say he had achieved bankai?"
Gin's smile did not even flicker at the idea of the slaughter of an entire team of his own men. "Nope," he answered. "And it doesn't sound like he ever will."
It was nearly four in the morning when Gin finally made it home. He stared down at his family sleeping so peacefully. Rangiku slept on her side like she always did, and Kinta was asleep curled next to his mother. Shiro was asleep on his futon right next to them, despite all his declarations that he was old enough to have his own room.
There was an empty futon on Rangiku's other side, the blanket folded down and his sleeping kimono laid out on the pillow. She never forgot, even if he'd been gone for days. There was always a place ready for him.
She was such perfection. He wondered, as he always did when he came home from these missions for Aizen, why she was still here. She was so beautiful, not just physically, which she was, even if she constantly complained about baby fat that would never go away, she was so beautiful he was honestly surprised when other men weren't distracted by her, but her soul was far more beautiful. She was everything kind and good and loving. She brought joy into every life she touched.
And she was with him. Her gift for seeing the best in everyone had somehow brought her to him. She had seen something in him no one else ever had, a value he still didn't understand, and knew he didn't deserve. He was a monster. He couldn't even remember how many people he had killed with his own hands or had simply watched die when he could easily have saved them. He couldn't remember when it had stopped hurting, when they had stopped being people and just become obstacles to be removed. This very night he had agreed to the murder of his men, including his lieutenant, who was a good man, a man Gin liked and even respected, and he hadn't even flinched at the idea. It was necessary, and he would do it. He no longer even questioned himself.
He had destroyed his own soul, and he didn't even care. It was worth it, everything was worth it if he kept her safe. One day she would know what he had done, and she would hate him for it, but even that did not matter, as long as she survived.
He stepped silently into the room and changed just as silently. He had long ago learned that he'd rather fight any number of hollows than wake a sleeping baby. It was a capital offense in Rangiku's book, the only crime he had ever committed that led to him sleeping alone. So he climbed into bed more quietly than was humanly possible and stifled the sigh of relief that finally being home demanded.
It wasn't more than a minute later that Rangiku rolled over, and, never opening her eyes, scooted over and molded herself into his side. She mumbled something unintelligible under her breath and fell back to sleep, never having really woken in the first place.
This was his home, and he would happily die to protect
Gin despised helping, and he didn't see why he should have to this time. Rangiku was the one who'd wanted another one. Why she'd wanted another noisy, smelly germ-ridden parasite when Toshiro was finally starting to get interesting was beyond him.
"He's dripping something again," Gin announced as Kinta turned his head and wiped a shiny line of snot across his shihakusho.
"He has a cold," Rangiku answered from the depths of the closet. "It won't kill you."
Gin frowned down at the ridiculously angelic-looking baby, who grinned toothlessly back at him. Personally, he preferred Toshiro's glares. They seemed a lot more honest.
"Why does he keep smiling at me?" Gin asked, wondering if a six-month-old could mock you.
"You're asking why someone smiles at you?" Rangiku demanded, reappearing from the closet with one of many boxes they'd never bothered to unpack. "You smile at him non-stop. He probably thinks you're the happiest person in the world. He's just trying to join in. It's what babies do."
"Shiro never did," Gin protested, wiping the smile from his own face as he looked down at the baby again. Kinta was still smiling.
Rangiku sat on the floor and pulled the lid from the box. Inside were piles of photos and fliers and other keepsakes from her time in the Academy. Gin had nothing from that time; honestly, he kept nothing from any time. Keepsakes seemed like an alien concept to him, but Rangiku just didn't get that; she kept everything.
"Shiro-chan's like you; he doesn't trust people. Kin-chan's like me. He figures everyone seems pretty nice so we should all be friends," Rangiku told him as she dug through the box.
"What are you looking for?" Gin asked finally.
"A class photo," Rangiku pulled a framed picture from the depths of the box. "It's from the entrance ceremony. I thought I'd take Shiro-chan and Kin-chan around to meet all the people we went to school with, but then I realized I couldn't remember half their names, so I thought-" the smile had faded from her face as she spoke, and tears had formed in her eyes as she set down the picture and sat back.
"What's wrong?" Gin asked, looking at the photo curiously. As some of the youngest, and smallest, kids in their class, he and Rangiku were sitting on the very front row. That had to be the earliest picture anyone had taken of Rangiku. She looked so happy. Her smile was such a contrast to his very fake grin. She glowed. Then as now she was her very own sun.
"They're all dead," Rangiku said softly.
"All of them?" Gin said in surprise, scanning the other faces in the picture. He recognized barely any of them. He'd only been at the Academy a year and only in classes with any of them for a week, before he'd been bumped up to advanced classes and private tutoring. "There's Kaien and Miyako," he said finally. "Pretty sure they're not dead."
"And Keiji-kun and Emi-chan in Division 4, but everyone else-" she stretched her fingers across the picture, touching the faces one by one. No wonder she hadn't remembered their names. Most had died in the first decade. She remembered now, hearing about each one, and going to the sakeya again and again, drinking and thinking about other things. She stopped looking up friends from school and started drinking with officers who were less likely to be killed. Not that she ever admitted that to herself. She didn't think about the friends who were dying; she thought about Gin who was avoiding her. She had nagged and harassed and wheedled her way back into his life, while letting every other friend go without a second thought.
How stupid and selfish she'd been, she still was. She choked back a sob as she remembered Hisana and Isshin. They'd only been gone six months! She wasn't forgetting them, was she? She wasn't going to stuff them in another dusty box in the back of a closet to forget about, so she could just go on with her happy, happy life, was she?
Gin dropped down beside her and pulled the picture from her hands. "Ran," he said softly.
She turned and looked up at him. Tear tracks ran down her face, and she sniffles miserably. "What kind of person am I?" She asked.
"The kind everyone is lucky to have known, no matter how long they live," he answered honestly.
Rangiku threw her arms around him and sobbed. Gin wrapped his free arm around her, and Kinta reached out and patted her shoulder. It was getting better, he reminded himself. This had been an almost daily occurrence after Hisana's death and again after they'd lost Isshin. She'd be fine. She always was. There was no reason to worry.