Gin settled himself behind the desk. It was his desk, his office. His division, his rules.

With a lop-sided grin, he ran his fingers across the smooth wood before him. There was a dull ache he could still feel, pounding in the back of his head, but not even that could stifle the joy he felt at this new situation. The leash that bound him to Aizen had been loosened. Gin could now breathe easier. Ah, and he'd drank too much in celebration last night.

The Third Division's new motto, he had slurred out during the party, was "Work Hard, Play Harder!" Gin's new subordinates, most of whom were understandably wary of him, seemed a tolerable lot for the most part. Sure, there were a few humorless ones in the bunch, but they would learn to take a joke in time, or they would leave. All in all, things were looking good.

He drummed his fingers on the stack of documents that were already waiting for him, looked up at the ceiling with squinted eyes, and murmured to himself, "I kinda wish Izuru were here. He's cute when he's hung over."

Gin's evil plotting was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Captain, someone's here to see you," a shinigami called from the other side.

"Oh, a visitor? So early? Who could it be?"

"It's, ah, someone from the Twelfth Division... I think..."

From his tone of voice, Gin gathered that the Third Division member didn't know what to make of the situation. Gin, however, was intrigued. Strange visitors didn't always make for the most pleasant chats, but at least they spiced things up a bit. He chuckled and nearly squirmed in his seat at the fun that could be had.

"Sure, sure, let 'em in!"

The door opened, giving Gin a view of his nervous subordinate, who sketched a quick bow and scuttled off, and also... Ah. Interesting, Gin thought. It was a woman of rather unremarkable appearance who stepped up to his desk, and although Gin had not had contact with her for a very, very long time, he knew right away who it was. He put his hands under his chin, though, and smiled at the newcomer as if he was curious to find out who she was.

"Hello there, Miss..."

"Itou Haru."

"Yes, Itou-san, is it? And what can I do for ya?"

"Cut the crap, Captain Ichimaru, you know who I am."

Gin frowned exaggeratedly. "Aww, yer no fun, Haru."

"On the contrary," she said impassively, "you think I'm tons of fun."

"Confident, aren'tcha?"

"No, I just know that I wouldn't still be alive if you didn't."

"Yer as blunt as ever, Haru..." Gin's eyes opened just a sliver, darting around the room. The door was closed, and the window also firmly shut. No signs of any technological instruments that could breach their privacy, either. Having confirmed that it was safe, he took a deep breath and turned his attention back to Itou. "So? To what do I owe the pleasure of this li'l meetin'?"

"I want in."

Gin raised one eyebrow. "'Scuse me?"

"I want to transfer into the Third."

His other eyebrow rose as well - it was indeed amusing. "Well. D'ya have a recommendation?"

"Yes," she said, though she made no move to show him any papers.

Gin stared at Haru, who stared back. He stretched out his hand and motioned for her to hand it over. Yet still she made no move, not even when he wiggled his fingers obscenely. A minute of random sign language and pantomimed finger fucking later, and it was time to go in for the kill.

"Maa, one'd think ya didn't really have a recommendation letter! That wasn't made up, was it? I'd hate to think my ol' friend Itou-san could be such a liar!"

"Two minutes ago you said you didn't know me, and now I'm your old friend?"

"Two minutes ago was a very long time in the past," Gin said, feigning remorse. "It ain't becomin' of ya to hold grudges like that. Now, who'd ya say recommended ya to the Third?"

Itou, whose face was normally inexpressive, let out a tiny smile. "You did," she said.

"Huh. And when'd I do that?"

"Right now."

"Ha!" Gin burst out laughing. His mouth opened wide, and he shook all the way from shoulders to stomach. It was absurd! Someone, some no-ranker bottom-feeder shinigami waltzing into a captain's office and demanding recruitment on the spot? Absurd!

However, those who knew Gin knew that he reveled in the absurd, and he found it refreshing for someone to use his personality against him. A clever move on her part, though Itou was not nearly clever enough to make it so the manipulation went unnoticed, unlike Aizen... Even so, Gin conceded that she had a unique, adaptable style of play. She was an interesting opponent, if not a challenging one, and such a well-thought tactic deserved a proper response on his part.

"Ya got balls, Haru. I'll give ya that, but it ain't enough. Tell me. Why should I let you in?"

Itou closed her eyes and took a deep breath, steadying herself. "Because once your new subordinates find out what you're like, half of them will leave this division rather than play your sadistic games. You'll go through a massive restructuring, the entire hierarchy will have to be reworked, and most of your time will then be spent desperately recruiting new members to keep balance between divisions after the flooding out."

"Geez, ya make it sound like I'm a real piece o' work..."

"You are. And that's why you might as well have me around, because you'll need someone to help you get this division off the ground and refitted to your tastes. And, preferably, that someone should know how to deal with you without screaming and running the other way whenever you show up."

"And ya think ya know how t'deal with me."

"Like I said, I'm not dead yet."

Gin chuckled and shook his head. True, her offense was weak - quick jabs, limited to nothing but surprise novelty attacks - but her defensive counters were something of a work of art, as was her willingness to use truth as manipulation and honesty as deception. "Don'tcha think yer too blunt sometimes?"

Itou returned his smile. "Nah, you're the one who's too indirect, having to go through this entire conversation with me when you've had your mind made up the moment I walked into this room."

One well-placed shakkahō had the man flying into the wall at breakneck speed. With a loud crack, his body slammed into the bricks and sent them tumbling on top of him.

Kira calmly straightened out, smoothed his hands over his uniform, and turned to level his sorrowful gaze at the other goons. They curled their lips up at him in five identical ugly sneers, but Kira could see the uneasiness behind the machismo. It was in the way they shifted their footing, and the way their hands twitched to grab sword hilts. They hadn't expected to have to take a weak healer seriously, but Kira knew he was more than a match for them, and he knew that they were well aware of this, too, if the sweat beading on their brows was any indication.

The tension around them snapped as their leader, the largest of the bunch, standing in the center, stepped forward and drew his sword. It swished out of the scabbard with a piercing metallic cry.

"Come on, ya little blond pansy! You an' me, one on one! Draw your sword! Unless you're too scared to, eh?"

That was the trouble with the Eleventh Division, Kira thought. Most members had such archaic notions of honor when it came to battle, and yet none outside of it, unless picking on errand boys half one's size was considered honorable these days. But no, once in battle, it was endless lectures about chivalry this and bravery that, and yet the only things they considered chivalrous or brave were the things Kira considered stupid. It was blasphemy for a member of their division to consider anything remotely resembling tactics, because one wasn't a real man unless one was willing to charge straight into an opponent's trap and lose five pints of blood just tearing through it and then dying of hypovolemic shock right before finishing the mission.

That attitude was so ingrained into their brainwashed skulls that they snorted in disdain whenever kidō was mentioned, and laughed at the "cowardly" Onmitsukidō with all their "sneaking and skulking about". It didn't matter to them that the Onmitsukidō used their superior stealth to undertake missions far more dangerous and situations far more delicate than any unranked lackey of the Eleventh would ever touch. It didn't even matter that cutting themselves off from kidō was essentially cutting off half of a Shinigami's arsenal, or that the kidō they hated so much was the only thing that was keeping them fighting at all. Unless they would rather never have healers reattach any severed tendons? If so, Kira vowed to change his opinion of them from stupid to extremely masochistic and suicidally stupid.

The leader of this posse of clowns was still waiting on him, but it was such a waste of time that Kira decided he wasn't even going to give them the pleasure of seeing Wabisuke unsheathed. The only point in fighting was to win; not to beat one's chest in a pointless display of gorilla machismo. Was it so much to ask that members of the Gotei 13 at least try to tamp down on their savage impulses and behave like the professionals they were supposed to be? First year academy students were expected to behave with more maturity than this!

Kira lifted his hand again, and frowned as he let the red sphere of spiritual power coalesce in his opened palm. "Hadō no sanjyuu-ichi, shakkahō!"

Crack!

Four pairs of eyes darted toward the crumbling wall where their fallen friend still lay groaning. The fifth pair, belonging to their leader, was opened wide in shock and starting blankly at Kira. His hand twitched at his side, relieved of its zanpakutō, which was now lodged deeply in the stone behind him.

Bullseye. Though it wasn't outwardly noticeable, Kira's chest swelled up with pride. It was good to know that his aim was as good as ever, even if he had to indulge in a little cruelty to prove it.

It took a while for the idiot's brain to process what had happened, but eventually the singed flesh was too painful to ignore. "Uuuurrrrrraaaggghh! Coward!" the brute managed to gasp out, uninjured hand reaching over to clasp the burned flesh of the other.

Kira glanced over at the wound with a healer's practiced eye. "You might want to get that washed and bandaged before you head back. Given the state of the Eleventh's barracks, that," he nodded toward the bloodied hand, "could easily get infected."

"Coward! You can't even fight me like a man?"

Zankensōki, the four disciplines that form the core of Shinigami fighting technique. Zan, armed combat; ken, unarmed combat; sō, movement; ki, kidō... Balance is the key to victory.

Kira shook his head. It was a sad day when an apprentice healer knew more about Shinigami combat philosophy than an entire combat squad... There was no getting through them today, not that there ever was. It was better for him to take his leave.

"I was under the impression that intelligence is what sets apart man from beast. It would be better to be a coward by your standards, then. Now if you'll excuse me..."

A chorus of audible gulps sounded from the remaining would-be bullies as they scurried out of the way. It was the only sensible move they had made this morning.

Kira knelt down to pick up the box of medical supplies at his feet, pleased to note that none of the delicate vials had been damaged. He was not going to be late today. Captain Unohana would take it out of his skin if he was.

Waiting.

Waiting sucked.

There were some things that were better after a longer wait. Food tasted better when one was hungry; long, hot baths felt better after a tough training session where everything was caked in dirt and blood. Kuchiki Rukia's screams were sweeter if he had to hide for a few minutes before popping out of the shadows to greet her. Gin understood that kind of wait.

This, however, was too much. No, this wouldn't do at all. Aizen was starting to lose patience with Gin's teasing and flirting, and if Aizen lost his patience, he would find some way to make Gin take on a brainwashed lieutenant whose loyalties lay with Aizen first and foremost.

"That third seat of yours," Aizen had said during their latest chat over tea, "How did you decide upon her? Were you previously acquainted?"

"Does Aizen-sama not approve?"

"I'm merely curious as to who you have in mind for your lieutenant should you fail to capture Kira-kun, whether you would be willing to promote from within, or if I should make a few... suggestions on your behalf."

"Oh, well, Itou-san transferred in an' didn't seem like she was gonna leave, so I thought it'd be fun to give 'er a seated position. My division's somewhat of a testosterone fest right now, so I thought, 'Ja! Maybe boobs'll keep 'em in line!' Brilliant plan, right? Lieutenant seat's still reserved - I won't fail."

"Interesting, that you'd hand over such a high rank to a near stranger. I would caution you to keep an eye on her, lest she start to suspect you."

"She ain't that smart; I got her under control. 'Sides, everyone suspects me of somethin' or other."

"True, Gin... How true..."

It was so like Aizen, being so cryptic with his words. He'd hinted that Itou Haru was his plant, and because this was Aizen he was up against, it wasn't an option Gin could completely cross off. If she was still an independent player, then Aizen had started keeping tabs on her. Either way, he had her in his crosshairs.

And this just reaffirmed Gin's belief that there really was nobody in the world he could trust with all his burdens, because the knowledge would always be dangerous either to Gin... or to whichever idiot managed to uncover too much of Aizen's true nature.

"S'about time I went an' took back what was mine."

The Third Division had largely settled down in comparison to how it had been a few months ago. Though seated officers' positions were still unstable, transfers in and out had slowed to a steady trickle. And still, still... Izuru had yet to request to transfer in.

It wasn't as if he hadn't seen Izuru at all, since Gin often devised plots to sneak out to wherever Izuru was at the moment. He would "just happen" to bump into the other man outside of a store or a restaurant; the Third was only ever in need of medical supplies when Izuru was in charge of the storehouse. For two people belonging to different divisions and holding such disparate ranks, they saw each other quite often.

And each time he would be careful to lean in just close enough for discomfort, to place just the right amount of pressure on Izuru's shoulder, and to let just the barest hint of breath blow across his target's ear. He would smile at the shiver and think he had caught Izuru at last. And each time, that stubborn little bastard would blush and bow to him and... not trip over himself to transfer out into Gin's division. Then stupid Haru would huff and roll her eyes and say, "That schoolboy crush you've got going on is cute and all, but you're too indirect, Captain. Just jump him or something."

Stupid Haru. If she had time to comment on his lack of a love life, then she had far too much time. He resolved to give her more paperwork, but for now, he was in search of someone much cuter.

Gin hid himself near the path that led to the Fourth's medical storehouse, waiting until he saw a certain someone take over the re-stocking. He would wait a while longer, observe his target before just happening to wander over because he'd been taking a stroll and suddenly remembered that his division was low on cough syrup.

The sight of Izuru at once made Gin excited and prickling with impatience. He had taken to slouching and hiding himself behind his hair. No longer did he stride proudly forward. The preppy Academy boy was no more.

Like Aizen said, it must have been a huge blow to his pride. For a man like Izuru, who must have been considered talented even at a young age, who had always worked hard and been among the best, who had risen up the ranks in the Fifth at breakneck speed... For a man like that to be demoted to nothing but a grunt in the weakest division, he must have thought himself worthless.

And of course, this was Izuru, who was too sweet to blame anyone else for his own misfortunes. This was Izuru who, though others might not see it, was determined to make it to the top one day, and was surprisingly hard to push around when he had his mind set on something. These days, that "something" seemed to be "avoiding accusations of nepotism at the cost of making himself utterly miserable".

It was always hard lying to Aizen, and this case was no exception. "Oh, yes yes," Gin had said, "Izuru seems so sad these days. It'd be too bad if he was gettin' depressed." And Aizen, too preoccupied with trying to guess through Gin's other moves, never realized.

Still, the fact remained that he was miserable in this division, and Gin was offering a clear escape, yet Izuru never took it.

Well, Gin had decided that he would take it today, even if he had to try a more... direct... strategy. (Not, of course, that he would ever let his nosy third seat catch wind of this.) He sauntered out into the clearing.

Izuru's tired eyes lit up at the sight of his visitor. "Good morning, Captain Ichimaru. What can I do for you?"

"Oh, so you're in charge of the storehouse today. Wasn't expectin' ta see ya here." It was an obvious lie, lilting out in his distinctive accent and accompanied, as always, by a wide, thin-lipped grin. Gin took careful note of Izuru's reaction to his facetious words.

"Um, yes... Of course, Captain Ichimaru. I wouldn't expect anyone to remember that I'm always here on Wednesday afternoons." Izuru let out a sad-looking hint of a smile.

"But ya have Thursdays off, I remember that! Say, why don'tcha come over to see me tomorrow? We don't hang out nearly enough anymore."

Izuru's nervous habit of playing with sash returned, and he lowered his eyes to the ground. "No, it wouldn't be proper, Captain Ichimaru. I'm an unseated member of another division! I can't just go calling on a c-captain..."

"Sure ya can."

"N-no, it's..."

"I don't like sad stories."

"It's... What?"

"An' yours is a sad story right now. Why haven't ya gotten any promotions?"

Izuru blinked, still reeling from what must have seemed like a sudden change of topic. But he had long since become accustomed to Gin's unpredictability, and so he tried his best to give a thoughtful answer. "I couldn't heal when I first got here, so it was only natural that I wasn't given a seated officer's position. Healing skills are important here..."

"I'm askin' about promotions. Izuru's kido ability's impressive. Don't tell me ya can't heal now."

"And... I..."

"What was that?"

"I fight," he whispered. "I thought it would eventually go away if I just stood my ground and let them know I wasn't a good target, but it got worse instead. I didn't know what else to do, so I've been fighting back. Every time I think I can rise up, I fall back down. Captain Unohana has even pulled me aside to talk about 'curbing violent tendencies' many times over, but I just can't." He continued looking down, his head bowed in repentence for breaking the Fourth Division's cardinal sin.

For some reason, Gin also felt the need to look off to the side. They were idiots, he thought, those who couldn't find a use for such a multi-talented young man. "Maybe it's time ya rejoined a combat squad, yanno?"

Izuru shook his head. "I shouldn't have said all that. Sorry for bothering you. You wouldn't want to hear about my troubles..."

"Well, I was just thinkin' that I'm missin' a lieutenant right now. I was gonna promote the third seat and bump everyone along as well, but then I thought that's way too many promotions! So then I thought of ya. How 'bout it, Izuru? Lucky number three? Third seat in the Third?"

He gasped, a sharp intake of breath accompanied by widened eyes. "I... No, it's all right. I don't think you should offer that kind of position to me."

"Lieutenant, then," Gin said. He gave his bestest, brightest smile. Izuru froze, his mouth stuck in an unattractive horrified grimace, to which Gin responded by putting on an exaggerated pouty frown which must have looked especially sinister on his sharp-featured face. "Ya wouldn't accept."

"No. No, I'm sorry. I'm unseated right now. If you were to offer me one of the higher seats right away, it would... especially since we're... friends..."

Oh, that answer was displeasing. If kindness did not get the results he wanted, Gin could always switch to cruelty. He began to pace around Izuru, coiling around his prey. "Why do ya want to be a Shingami, I wonder. Ya want money or status? Even if the Kira clan is only minor nobility, if ya never joined up ya could've lounged around on an inheritance, couldn't ya? Is it for pride? Idealism? Honor? Have ya got honor, Izuru?"

"Please, Captain Ichimaru..." Izuru was obviously getting uncomfortable now. Placing his hands on the bony chest in front of him, he half-heartedly tried to push away, but Gin just moved in even closer until it was lips against ear.

So close, too close... Gin pressed a feather-light kiss to the pulse point below the temple. He could feel the blood under the skin.

"Nah, ya'd fight dirty to win and never bother to hide it. Wearin' that kinda ruthlessness on yer sleeve like that... But I like that about ya," he said, enjoying Izuru's confusion. "You're an honest man." And with that, Gin ghosted out the way he came in.

-oOo-

Kira was left to wonder if he had ever been there at all. Had it really been Captain Ichimaru, or had it been an apparition, a hallucination born from too many long nights spent cramming a square peg into a round hole? Cramming medical texts into a melee fighter's brain... He blinked slowly and finally looked down to the papers he suddenly found clutched to his chest.

REQUEST FOR DIVISION TRANSFER

The dark ink splashed over the page marked his future. His name, current rank and position, and intended division of transfer - Third, duly noted - were all already filled out for him in Captain Ichimaru's unmistakable scrawl. As he flipped through the rest of the stack, Kira's brows drew down into a troubled expression at how pushy, how uncharacteristically direct the captain of the Third was being. Everything had already been filled out. Everything. But for his signature.

He reached into the folds of his kosode to bring out the small brush he kept hidden there in case poetic inspiration struck at an odd moment. He paused over the paper. He had wanted this; he had always wanted this, and he had said to himself while in the academy that he would never let anything get in the way of his goals. Had anything changed? Did he want it still?

Captain Ichimaru wanted him to transfer, that was for sure.

And it was... nice. To feel wanted, that is, even if he was only being toyed with.

His hands didn't shake at all as he signed away his fate.