Rangiku crouched outside their shack, brows furrowed in concentration as she held a stone between her fingers. Sparks of faint, flickering reiatsu glimmered around it like tiny fireflies. She closed one eye, stuck out her tongue, and aimed. With a quick flick of her wrist, she released the stone, sending it soaring through the air. It collided with another stone she'd lined up on the ground, sending it skidding almost into the target circle she'd drawn in the dirt.
Almost.
"Ugh!" She flopped backward dramatically, groaning at her own lack of precision. "Why is this so hard?"
She didn't have much time to sulk before she heard soft footsteps approaching. Looking up, she saw Gin, his small figure emerging from the crowd like a pale ghost against the dusty streets of Rukongai.
Her frustration vanished in an instant. "Gin!" she called, leaping to her feet and waving him over. "Come here! You have to try this!"
Gin stopped a few feet away, tilting his head in that quiet, thoughtful way of his. "You've been playing with rocks?" he asked, his tone as unreadable as ever.
"It's not just rocks!" she exclaimed, stomping her foot. "It's a game! You throw them to hit other stones to land in the circle. Watch."
Before he could reply, she crouched again, focusing hard as she picked up another stone. Her reiatsu flared faintly and she hurled the stone with everything she had. It hit the edge of the target stone and barely nudged it.
Rangiku groaned again, burying her face in her hands. "Why is this so hard? My aim sucks!"
Gin finally stepped closer, his eyes briefly scanning the little setup she'd created. Without a word, he crouched down beside her, picking up one of the stones with his long, nimble fingers.
"You're wasting too much energy," he said simply. "Keep it focused, small and sharp. Like this."
She opened her mouth to argue, but he was already moving. His reiatsu was sharper than hers, precise and controlled. He flicked the stone with ease, and it struck one of the others dead center, sending it skidding perfectly into the circle.
Rangiku stared, her mouth hanging open.
"Mou, Gin!" she whined, throwing her hands in the air. "Why are you always so good at everything? You didn't even practice!"
He didn't answer right away, his sharp eyes watching her reaction instead. Then, to her surprise, he let out a quiet chuckle. It was soft and brief, but unmistakably a laugh.
She pouted, pointing a finger at him. "You're laughing at me!"
Gin shook his head, but the faintest hint of a smile lingered on his lips. "You're bad at this," he teased lightly, rolling another stone between his fingers. "That's not my fault."
"You're so mean!" she cried, shoving his shoulder in mock outrage.
He chuckled again, the sound warm and fleeting, before tossing another stone. It landed in the circle with the same effortless precision, as if mocking her. Rangiku sighed dramatically, flopping onto her back in the dirt.
"Seriously, why are you so good at everything?" she muttered, staring up at the dimming sky.
Gin didn't answer right away, his gaze fixed on the stones. Finally, he said, almost too quietly to hear, "Because I have to be."
The way he said it made her pause. She tilted her head to look at him, but his expression had already shifted back to its usual unreadable mask.
For a moment, they sat in silence until Rangiku broke it with a grin, sitting up and brushing the dirt off her hands.
"Well, you're annoying, but I'll beat you at this one day," she declared, pointing at him.
Gin's lips twitched into another small smile. "I'd like to see you try."
Rangiku twirled her chopsticks between her fingers like a weapon, pointing them at Hisagi as she tilted her head. "You're such a stick in the mud sometimes, you know that?"
Hisagi blinked, his mouth half-open in defense, only for Rangiku to swoop in and steal a dumpling off his plate with a triumphant smirk.
"Lucky I let you hang out with me," she teased, popping the dumpling into her mouth with exaggerated satisfaction.
Hisagi gave her an incredulous look. "You're impossible," he muttered, though the faint pink creeping up his neck betrayed his irritation. He didn't even make an attempt to retrieve his food, and Rangiku leaned in closer, resting her chin on her palm with a mischievous gleam in her eye.
"Next time we're going drinking," she declared casually, as if the decision had already been made. "It's not like we have much free time to waste on tame little dinners like this."
Hisagi sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "At least admit the food tastes good," he said, jabbing his chopsticks into the remains of his meal in protest.
Rangiku shrugged lightly. "I'd better," she quipped. "Otherwise, why else would I let you pay for it?"
Hisagi froze, nearly choking on his noodles. "Pay for it? Who said anything about me paying?" he asked, glaring at her as she stifled a laugh behind her hand.
"You're the one who invited me here," Rangiku replied, feigning innocence. "Don't tell me you're going to make a lady pay for her own meal?"
Hisagi groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Rangiku leaned back with a satisfied sigh, waving a hand dismissively. "Come on, Shuhei, loosen up. You need to live a little. Maybe that's why you're still so uptight all the time."
"I'm not uptight," he countered, straightening his posture.
"Please," Rangiku said, laughing softly. "You're so serious, it's even adorable."
Hisagi opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught somewhere in his throat, his blush deepening as Rangiku's teasing smile widened. For all his discipline and composure, she had a way of effortlessly disarming him with just a few words.
She popped another dumpling into her mouth. "This is why I like hanging out with you. You're fun to mess with."
After finishing their meal and paying the vendor, the two stepped into the cool evening air, heading toward their barracks. The streets were quiet, lanterns casting long shadows along the path. Hisagi walked a step ahead, hands in his pockets, while Rangiku trailed behind, humming softly to herself.
Out of nowhere, Hisagi nudged a small stone with his foot, infusing it with a touch of reiatsu. It skidded across the ground and ricocheted off another stone, sending it tumbling into a third.
Rangiku tilted her head, amused.
"You try it," Hisagi challenged, turning back to her with a smirk.
Rangiku shrugged, kicking her own stone with a burst of reiatsu. It flew wildly to the side, missing every other stone entirely and landing in a puddle.
"Wow," Hisagi said, deadpan. "Impressive."
"Shut up! That was a practice shot," Rangiku said, already scanning the ground for another stone.
The two of them continued kicking stones down the path, each trying to one-up the other, but both were equally terrible at it. Hisagi's reiatsu bursts were too weak, leaving the stones barely moving, while Rangiku's were too strong, sending them flying into bushes or gutters.
At one point, Rangiku's stone shot off at an angle, hitting a stray cat that yowled and darted off into the night. She froze, covering her mouth, while Hisagi doubled over laughing.
"Okay, okay," she said, trying to stifle her own giggles. "One more round. Loser buys the drinks."
"Deal," Hisagi said, his competitive streak kicking in.
They both lined up their final stones, focusing hard. Hisagi kicked his with careful precision, but it veered off course at the last second, missing the target by a hair. Rangiku stepped up, determination etched on her face. She took a deep breath, kicked—and her stone shot backward, hitting her own ankle.
"Damn it!" she shouted, hopping on one foot while Hisagi nearly fell over laughing.
"That's it," she said, throwing her hands up. "Game over. I'm never doing this again."
"Sure, sure," Hisagi said, wiping tears from his eyes.
She glared at him but couldn't keep the smile off her face. As they neared the crossroads to their barracks, Rangiku glanced at him. "Thanks for the walk, Shuhei. It was fun."
Hisagi paused, a little surprised at her sincerity. "Yeah, it was. See you tomorrow?"
"Maybe," she teased, giving him a wave as she turned toward the 10th Division.
As she walked away, Rangiku couldn't help but chuckle to herself because moments like these made everything worthwhile. Yet, as she took each step toward the barracks, something in the air shifted. The weight of the day seemed to catch up with her, and for a brief moment, she felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia.
"You're still awful at this game."
Rangiku stopped, mid-step, her eyes narrowing as she turned toward the familiar voice. Gin stood there, leaning casually against a nearby wall, hands tucked inside his sleeves, that infuriatingly calm smile tugging at his lips.
"What?" she asked, thrown off by his sudden presence.
"The game," he said smoothly, tilting his head ever so slightly. "Kicking stones. Still terrible at it, huh?"
Her brows furrowed as realization hit, and she scowled. "Were you watching me?"
Gin pushed himself off the wall, his pale eyes glinting as he walked toward her. "Hard not to when you're so loud. You're always impossible to miss, Rangiku."
She opened her mouth for a sharp comeback, but her words died as Gin gave a soft nudge to the stone by his foot. With the gentlest touch, and a whisper of his reiatsu, the stone shot forward. It danced across the ground with impossible precision, hitting one stone, then another, then another, as if each movement had been calculated down to the finest detail. By the time it stopped, every stone within sight had been knocked over.
Rangiku blinked, stunned. "You've got to be kidding me. You're such a show-off."
Gin chuckled softly, the sound low and smooth, as he approached her. "C'mere," he said, his voice almost too gentle, too teasing. "Let me show you how it's done."
Before she could protest, he was behind her, close enough that she felt the warmth of his presence against her back. Rangiku stiffened instinctively, her heartbeat quickening. She could feel him—really feel him—his quiet breathing near her ear, the ghost of his chest brushing her back as he leaned in.
"Relax, Rangiku," Gin murmured, his voice dropping into something softer, smoother. "You're never gonna hit anything if you're this stiff."
Rangiku opened her mouth to respond, but her words got caught somewhere between her thoughts and the thrum of her pulse as she felt his hot breath and the faintest touch of his hand as he guided her arm forward.
"Here," he said, the word barely more than a whisper, his lips so close to her ear that she felt the way it curled through her. "You don't have to force it, not too much energy. Let it flow naturally."
Rangiku swallowed hard, the simple sound far too loud in the silence between them. "Easy for you to say," she muttered, her voice uneven.
Gin leaned closer, his head dipping slightly until the edge of his chin nearly grazed her shoulder. "Just focus," he said softly, almost like a coaxing whisper.
His closeness was nearly overwhelming, the warmth of him sinking into her skin. Her breath hitched, but she focused—desperately—on the stone in front of her. She let out a slow, unsteady breath, lifted her foot, and kicked. The stone tumbled forward, straighter this time, and knocked into another stone before stopping.
She spun around, half-expecting praise. "Well? Better, right?"
Gin didn't answer immediately. Instead, his eyes lingered on her face—on her flushed cheeks and the slight part of her lips. Then his lips tugged into that same enigmatic smile, though it softened somehow. "Better," he said.
Rangiku rolled her eyes, swatting his arm, but even that short contact felt charged.
Gin's gaze lingered on her, his eyes unreadable, before he stepped back, his hands slipping into his sleeves. Then, after a pause, he turned on his heel and began to walk away, his voice trailing after him. "See you around, Rangiku."
She watched him disappear down the path, her breath still uneven as her fingers curled slightly at her sides. The warmth of him—his presence so close—lingered longer than she wanted to admit.
"Show-off," she muttered under her breath, though this time, her voice was quieter. Almost wistful.
She turned back toward her barracks, her thoughts spinning as she walked, unable to shake the ghost of his breath at her ear or the way his presence had made the air feel heavier. Her cheeks burned as she let out a slow sigh.