In the act of persuasion one's side had to be chosen and melted into solid gold, pretty, inventive enough to lure a hapless mind into the trap. However unstable the views produced for consideration determined the inevitability of the prey falling victim to the charms, true or otherwise. Therefore, Ichimaru Gin had a slight problem.
By stepping across the border of Aizen Sousuke's plans for domination when he crossed scared grounds to retrieve Rangiku from the dark man's clutches Gin would surly befall a nasty fate. He was taking a stand perhaps completely by his lonesome, and it was a lonely feeling curdling in the pit of his stomach. Gin had crossed a line before when he defected from Soul Society, when he left the woman behind. Had that choice been sanctified? Not entirely, but he was committed to the cause for whatever reason. It sounded like fun when he was a child, and Gin's word controlled his life. It was why he never spoke unless he truly meant it. To who he spoke could take his meaning however they wanted. It was his face that was the lie, not the words from his twisted mouth. So when he fell for the woman, he never said to her more than he could afford. It was what slowly drove her away from him, though in his own accord.
He never said he would return because he was never positive he would the next time; he never said when he would leave because sometimes that seemed entirely impossible.
He never apologized because he never had anything to be sorry for.
But now writhing behind the smile that broke assumed promises and told unsaid lies Gin was for once unsure of his actions. As he walked the halls, aware so vividly of the complications he brought upon himself all those years ago with a single, purely accidental kiss of death, he worried.
Ichimaru Gin did not care for worrying. He hated being sick, and the hard pain that rolled around in his insides. Worry felt much the same.
And here he'd always thought his conscious had seared itself enough to pass between loyalties with ease. Then again, hadn't he always been loyal solely to Aizen? From the very start of his career as a shinigami Gin had been enveloped in Aizen's scheme.
Gin walked from the halls out onto a wide balcony overlooking miles and miles of sand. The moon shone through in invisible filter, and the teeming Hollow beneath the surface were all too far below to emit sounds.
Maybe it was time for a little change in scenery.
(())
You are a fool.
Gin smiled, unclenching the rail. He stepped back from the balcony edge, where he had stood for the better part of an hour.
"If I am, then so are you."
The zanpaktou, speaking from his place conjoined with Gin's soul, scoffed, and it sounded much like a slivering hiss.
I don't think so. Your thoughts are mad.
"Wasn't as sane as I looked, last time I checked with myself."
This has nothing to do with the battle! This has nothing to do with war. You gave her up long ago. It's too late to start pining now.
"You gave something up as well," Gin noted, touching the hilt of his sword. "Are you going to show yourself?"
Another scoff, and the bold, big outline of a hooded snake appeared, coiled, his broad head held leveled with his shinigami's. Brilliant topaz orbs steadily watched with slit pupils of royal blue. A forked tongue, diamond-black in color, flicked once, twice, before the zanpaktou spirit spoke.
Happy? Venomous sarcasm, deadly like poison, dripped from between the serpent's pointed, pearl-black fangs. The snake's mouth was snow-white, like a water moccasin, and yet the shape of Shinso's head bespoke of cobra. Black diamond shapes rowed down his back in the manner of a copperhead, but they glittered against the amber-gold of his other scales. His underbelly was pure silver-grey like a deadly sharp and perfect blade. A rattle decorated the tip of his tail, and it was gemmed with multiple colors and shapes of precious stones that all created an almost soothing chime when Shinso expressed his irritation.
"For the moment," Gin said, still captured by the almost unholy beauty and divineness of his zanpaktou's form.
We have lost much in our time, the serpent relented with usurped mulishness in his unblinking gaze. But we will lose everything if we suddenly remove his current obsession.
Gin's skin, usually comfortably cool due to his lack of muscle mass, warmed and crawled with frustration and, surprising himself and the zanpaktou, disgust. His smile turned a fraction sheepish, but he shrugged a slender shoulder.
"It's a task."
And what is the reward? Shinso asked, knowing the answer. His tongue flicked madly, tasting the charge in the atmosphere.
The smile spreading Gin's lips then mirrored the natural curve of Shinso's serpentine mouth.
(())
Finding a random room to rest in wasn't very hard. Honestly, when she went to sleep she wasn't worried; she was tired. Worn out by Aizen's stupid games. She would have taken a grubby cot to get decent shut-eye.
Maybe not.
Rangiku took yet another wrong turn, or whatever turn, swearing she remembered coming this way with her escort: a rather creepy green-eyed man with dark tearstains running down his face. The downturn set on his mouth had suddenly made her want to see Gin's perpetual grin. He didn't say much, kept his white hands in his pockets. Despite his stern mask he was very agitated, restless. Those eyes weren't nearly as controlled as he figured. Rangiku was glad when he left, only to face one of the biggest nightmares of her life that she secretly didn't want to wake up from. She could still feel Aizen's hands, his mouth, his everything fighting against her. It made her tired all over again just thinking about it. Tired, yet prepared for the next battle.
He reminded her of alcohol. It was fun, had different results each time, and addicting, but was also bad for that very reason, and it was harmful. But the flavor, especially when it had good texture, made it highly enjoyable and hard to quit once filled with more than one could handle.
She didn't really like her slight—or more—infatuation with alcohol either, come to think of it
Another corner went by, and another and another until Rangiku gave up completely. It all looked the same; it wasn't some aftermath-of-sex-with-Aizen that impaired her sense of direction. She was completely lost.
Damn it.
For good measure, she hurried back, just to see if she could stumble upon Aizen's room again when a sudden smell, spiritual pressure, and chest blocked her way.
"Oh," Gin smiled in a sing-song voice, like he was mocking her. "Rangiku. Good to see you. Where you headed?"
"That's really none of your business, now, is it?" she smiled sickly sweet, moving around him. He stepped, nonchalantly, into her way, muttering a stupid "oops".
"Where're Aizen's rooms?" she demanded, ignoring his comment.
His smile almost—almost—disappeared. He shrugged, giving her a predatory smirk that she didn't appreciate, and made her remember things long past at the same time.
"Now, why do you want to find Aizen-taichou?" Gin asked slowly, drawling. His grin dripped hunter.
She shivered like the hunted.
Rangiku scowled, crossing her arms and taking a very unusual stance leaning to the side with one leg, the one she wasn't standing on, forward a bit. It was a no-nonsense stance. Gin recognized it. "Also none of your business," she stated.
"Ah," he nodded, slithering up to her and, while her hands were preoccupied with being defensive, touched the lock of hair hanging beside her eye.
She started.
Clearly, he was making it his business.
Rangiku opened her mouth to reject him, to send him off or leave in a huff—he was confusing her. Gin slipped his mouth over hers, and she reacted. His shoulder thudded against the cold stone of the wall, and Rangiku worked heavily at his lips, biting, and generally overpowering his nonexistent advances. The front of his uniform was in disarray, her hands raking across what skin she could touch. It took a moment, but Rangiku realized that he wasn't fighting back.
For a moment she thought he was Aizen.
Dread cleaned the heat from her blood in a drastic rush. Rangiku threw herself off Gin, wide-eyed. Gin, however, followed her step for step until she was pressed against the opposite wall, and he hovered while she stared blankly at his chest. He ignored the red whelps rising on his stomach, but Rangiku could do nothing else but stare at them.
He was still smiling.
Slowly, so not to startle her again, Gin dipped his head, watching her eyes trail his movement, until he touched her collarbone with his lips, feathering against her skin. He kissed her once. He kissed her again in the same manner on her tense jaw, and at the corner of her mouth. Gin took her face, cupped in one palm, the other bracing against the wall beside her hair, and he kissed her lips, easing his tongue over them, worshiping her as his fingertips equally as slow feathered down her neck, over her collarbone, and lower. Her knees buckled.
Immensely clear, he was making something his business.
Gin touched her cheek once before he released Rangiku from the wall. His smile was old and familiar; it didn't bother her, like it always had.
He left without a word, while she touched her mouth with a wildly trembling hand.
Oh goodness she had missed that. Had she? Hadn't she? Gin hadn't paid much attention to her in a good while. And now she was just more confused, and in a way much worse than wandering stupid halls in a stupid place filled with even more stupid people.
Ah, damn it.
(((())))
Oh my God I've wanted to write that scene with Gin and Rangiku for the LONGEST time. And now I finally could! I'm a very happy fangirl.
But what's this going to spell for the Hueco Mundo love triangle-thing? Tune in next time to find out on the hottest new soap opera: Damn, I Wish I Was Her! Seriously though.
Oh, and yay for longer chapters! I knew it was bound to happen one of these days.