The only person who wasn't surprised by how well and how easily Ichimaru Toshiro was taking over the Tenth was Toshiro himself. He, personally, was surprised by how hard everyone seemed to think it would be. He knew the Tenth inside and out, having spent a large percentage of his life there, and, if anyone had noticed, most of that time had been spent around the people who were running the place. He wondered how they thought he could spend so much time following around his parents, both lieutenants, and then a captain, and not know how a division was supposed to be run.
Not to mention, he'd seen a lot of how not to do things, both in the Third's difficult transition to having a captain after nearly a century without and in his mother's struggles to run the Tenth after they lost theirs. It hadn't been hard to see his parents' mistakes while watching from a comfortable distance, and he found a comfortable middle ground between his father's 'I really don't give a damn who you are or what your problem is' and his mother's "I love every one of you and want nothing more than to help you'.
For those that thought they shouldn't have to listen to a cute little kid there were immediate and severe consequences. The Eighth Seat made the mistake of saying, "In a minute, Shiro-chan, I'm busy," when Toshiro asked him to give him a report on the first year shinigami he had overseen on a short term Rukongai mission, and learned that his next assignment would be as a volunteer assisting R&D on their live subject tests-it was not the deadly assignment it had once been, but still fairly terror inducing for most of the Gotei.
An unranked member who actually laughed at Toshiro when he was given an order, was immediately reassigned to the Third Division where, Toshiro promised him, the captain thought his orders were just as humorous as the man seemed to find Toshiro's. The man had dropped to his knees to beg forgiveness when Toshiro turned to his lieutenant and told her that he hoped she would ask Captain Ichimaru, as a personal favor to him, that he find something really amusing for this humor-loving transferee to do.
Toshiro never found out what his father did to the man, but Gin did tell him to feel free to send more gifts any time he felt like it, and rumors were whispered around the Tenth for weeks about the poor man's fate.
The first real excitement after he became captain came the second month he was there. Rangiku was out on the practice grounds with the new recruits, going over shikai with some of the most advanced.
Toshiro heard shouts and smelled smoke at the same moment. He rushed outside to find all the buildings on the east side of the practice grounds on fire. Flames were eagerly devouring the flimsy paper walls and licking up the wooden beams. He could hear the fire alarms sounding but the division's fire response team seemed to be taking their time.
"Of all the-" Toshiro broke off when he saw his mother had turned away from the flames to watch him. They'd had a bit of a disagreement about whether he should show the division members his actual skill with a zanpakuto. He thought they could take the general's word for it that he knew what he was doing; she thought a little bit of a show might help for those who remembered him as a toddler and still had trouble seeing him as anything else. So she had apparently taken things into her own hands-he wondered where she'd sent the fire responders that they were taking so long.
He pulled Hyorinmaru from the sheath on his back and called out, "Reign over the Frosted Heavens!" And a wave of ice rushed forth, coating the building in ice and quenching the fire in an instant.
Everyone within sight stopped and looked back and forth between the captain and the frozen building. It was a shikai that could not help but impress, but for some reason the awe and amazement on their faces still annoyed him.
He quickly sheathed Hyorinmaru and started across the grounds toward Rangiku. "What happened, Lieutenant?" He demanded.
"Kaori's shikai went out of control," Rangiku answered, barely managing to look apologetic at all. "It was my fault. I should have had a barrier ready."
"I want a report on why the fire response failed to respond in time and a detailed plan to make sure they will be able to respond more quickly in the future by the end of the week. I shouldn't have to come put out fires every time there's an accident."
Rangiku frowned, realizing she'd just earned herself a ton of pointless work. "Yes sir," she answered.
Gin sat up with a sudden cry, startling himself back to the conscious world. He stared around the dark room, taking in the familiar aura of peace and quiet of their bedroom at night.
A dream, it had only been a dream.
He rubbed his face with his hands, trying to drive away the visions of a nightmare world his mind had created. The gaping loneliness that had overwhelmed every other feeling as he walked the dead world that was Hueco Mundo was painfully familiar, a reminder of the time before Rangiku, a time that did not exist as far as he was concerned. Life had begun the day they met. That time before-he shivered.
"Gin?" Rangiku's voice whispered, and he felt her hand against his back, stroking gently. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he answered.
"Another nightmare?"
"I'm fine," he repeated, getting abruptly to his feet.
"Don't leave," she called after him.
Gin froze. Don't leave-how much time did they have left? Aizen had found the Hogyoku, trapped in poor little Kuchiki Rukia's soul. A timeline that had once been measured in decades had dwindled to a few months. If everything went as well as it possibly could he would still be leaving Rangiku forever in a few more months.
If he succeeded and, even more unlikely, survived, he knew he still wouldn't be coming back. He would still be a monster, destroying a bigger one wouldn't change that. Rangiku would finally understand, and she would finally be done with him. And just like his life had started the moment she entered it, his life would end the moment she left. Whether his heart would continue to beat was immaterial. Any existence without her was death.
He turned back to her, knowing he shouldn't; he wasn't calm enough to hide his fear from her. He shouldn't let her see it. She couldn't understand, and it would worry her. But he was like an addict, he couldn't resist one more hit.
He dropped down onto the futon and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest.
"Gin," he heard her whisper. "Please tell me what's wrong."