The woods stretched endlessly before them, dry branches crunching underfoot as Rangiku trailed after Gin, her arms already full of firewood. She let out a groan, shifting the weight in her arms.
"Why do we always need so much firewood, Gin?" she whined, pausing to blow a strand of hair out of her face. "We've got enough to last a week already."
Gin, a few paces ahead, glanced over his shoulder. "Better to have more than not enough. What if it snows again tonight?"
Rangiku rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Then we'll just bundle up like always."
He chuckled softly, crouching to pick up another dry branch. "You complain a lot for someone who'd be whining even louder if we were cold."
Her mouth opened, ready with a retort, when a low rumble of thunder rolled through the air. She froze, tilting her head up to the gray sky.
"Gin…"
Before she could finish, the first heavy drops splashed against her face. And then, as if the heavens themselves had torn open, the rain came down in sheets, drenching them instantly.
"Of course!" Rangiku shouted over the roar of the sudden storm, dropping her bundle of wood in exasperation. "Of all the times—"
"C'mon!" Gin cut her off, his grin widening as he tossed his own load of wood aside. He grabbed her wrist, tugging her forward.
They ran, the forest floor quickly turning into slick mud beneath their feet. The rain was relentless, pounding against their skin and soaking through their thin clothes. Rangiku's hair clung to her face, and water streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision.
"This way!" Gin shouted, pulling her along as they darted through the trees.
Rangiku stumbled behind him, slipping on the wet ground. "Slow down, Gin!" she yelled, though her laughter betrayed her frustration.
Gin glanced over his shoulder, his smirk widening. "Want to go even faster?"
"What?!" she shouted, panting. "I'm running as fast as I can!"
Before she could say another word, Gin suddenly spun around and swept her up into his arms.
"Gin! What are you—!"
And then, everything shifted.
The world around them blurred into streaks of green and gray, and the pounding rain seemed to vanish. Rangiku couldn't feel the cold drops anymore, only the rush of wind against her face as Gin moved impossibly fast. She let out a small gasp and instinctively clung to his shirt.
Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest, and despite the downpour soaking them both, she noticed the faint, comforting scent of him—a mixture of rain and something uniquely Gin. Closing her eyes, she smiled softly, letting herself enjoy this fleeting moment.
In what felt like no time, they were at the door of their tiny shelter. Gin set her down gently, the rain now a distant sound behind them.
Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced at him as he opened the door. "What… what was that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
He shrugged nonchalantly, his grin as sly as ever. "Just faster, like I said."
Rangiku shook her head, still catching her breath. As the storm continued to rage outside, she followed him in, her clothes dripping onto the floor. But despite the cold rain and the long day, she couldn't stop smiling.
If there was one thing the Gotei 13 loved more than its duty, it was a juicy rumor. And the latest one had spread like wildfire.
By midweek, nearly everyone knew of the starry-eyed academy graduate, Ichiro, freshly assigned to the stealth forces, who had taken one look at Rangiku Matsumoto during a chance encounter in the barracks and promptly declared her the love of his life. And Ichiro wasn't shy about it, either. He told anyone who'd listen, made no attempt to hide his admiration, and, much to Rangiku's dismay, had started leaving gifts at her office door every morning like clockwork.
At first, Rangiku had laughed it off, sipping her sake with an amused smile as she recounted the story to her captain. "It's flattering, honestly," she'd said, brushing it off as harmless.
But as the days passed, Ichiro's admiration turned into something far more persistent. He appeared wherever she went—delivering flowers to her desk, interrupting her training sessions to cheer her on, and even asking other officers about her favorite foods and hobbies. He had a bright, earnest face and the boundless enthusiasm of youth, but she found herself quickly growing weary of his constant presence.
Rangiku bolted into the office, shutting the door with a muffled thud. Her chest heaved as she leaned against it, running a hand through her hair. "Taichō!" she hissed. "You have to help me."
Isshin, who was lounging at his desk with one foot propped up, looked up from his snacks, bemused. "What now?"
"He's here again," Rangiku said in a low, urgent voice, peeking through the slit of the door. Sure enough, Ichiro stood in the hallway, his face radiating, holding yet another bouquet—this time lilies—and a box wrapped in shiny paper.
Isshin snorted. "Persistent little guy, huh?"
"He's not little; he's exhausting!" she groaned. "I can't take it anymore. Just... tell him I'm not here. Please."
Isshin raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, but got up anyway. "Fine, fine. But you owe me for this."
Rangiku darted behind her desk and crouched out of sight, listening intently as Isshin opened the door.
"Ah, Ichiro!" Isshin said, his voice too loud and cheerful to be convincing. "You just missed her! Rangiku's, uh... on a super-secret mission. Very classified. You know how it is."
Ichiro's hopeful expression wavered. "Oh... I see. Do you know when she'll be back, Sir?"
"Could be hours, could be days. You know how those missions go," Isshin said, shrugging dramatically.
Ichiro hesitated, then handed over the flowers and gift. "Please give these to her when she returns, Shiba-taichō. And tell her I'll wait as long as it takes!"
"Of course, of course," Isshin replied, ushering him away with a grin that faltered the moment the young man was out of sight. He shut the door and turned back to Rangiku, who was peeking out from behind her desk. She slumped into her chair, burying her face in her hands. "This has to stop. It's not cute anymore."
"Maybe you should talk to him," Isshin suggested, sitting back down. "Nicely, this time."
"I've tried!" Rangiku groaned. "He doesn't listen. He just... stares at me."
Isshin leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Sounds like a lot of people, honestly."
Rangiku shot him a glare, but before she could retort, a knock interrupted them. Her heart sank. "Don't answer it," she hissed.
Isshin held up his hands in surrender. "All right, all right."
A couple of days later, the inevitable happened.
"He's at it again," Rangiku sighed, referring to Ichiro's relentless pursuit of her. "Every time I turn a corner, he's there. Flowers, poems—if he calls me 'the goddess of his heart' one more time, I swear I'll kick his ass."
The Sereitei market was filled with eager academy students showcasing their crafts and talents to earn some pocket money. Rangiku and Isane strolled leisurely between the stalls, occasionally stopping to examine the wares.
Isane chuckled softly, clutching her basket of supplies. "He's harmless, Rangiku. Just... persistent. Maybe you should tell him more firmly. Or get someone else to talk to him. Like your taichō."
"Taichō? He's worse than useless!" Rangiku sighed dramatically. "If anything, he would probably encourage him just for laughs."
"Maybe he'll get bored eventually,"
"Not likely," Rangiku muttered as they approached a stand run by a particularly enthusiastic academy student. The young man's eyes lit up when he saw the two officers.
"Matsumoto-san! Kotetsu-san! Please, let me show you something!" he exclaimed, practically bouncing with excitement.
Before they could refuse, he launched into a demonstration of a Kido technique he claimed to have perfected. His hands moved quickly, chanting the incantation, but something in his energy wavered.
"Wait—" Rangiku started, sensing the instability.
Too late. The blast of botched kidō tore through the marketplace, sending a wave of water crashing over stalls and their unlucky patrons. Shouts and yelps filled the air as people scrambled for cover, ducking under awnings or using their sleeves to shield their faces.
Rangiku, however, found herself in a slightly precarious situation. In her haste to avoid the soaking chaos, her sandal caught on the slick ground, sending her stumbling forward.
She gasped, bracing herself for the inevitable fall, but it never came.
Instead, there was a blur of motion and a sharp gust of wind. Before she could even process what had happened, she was no longer on the ground but in the arms of Gin Ichimaru, who had appeared out of nowhere.
His silver hair clung wetly to his face, and water dripped from his chin onto her as he cradled her, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Rangiku's heart skipped a beat as she took in his smirk—the kind of smirk that made her both annoyed and, to her dismay, flustered.
"You're a bit clumsy today, Rangiku," he remarked, his tone infuriatingly amused.
She opened her mouth to retort, but then her attention snapped to the crowd around them. Whispers rippled like wildfire. Shinigami stared openly, their faces alight with curiosity.
"Are they…?"
"Lieutenant Ichimaru? And Matsumoto?"
"They're soaked!"
"Gin," Rangiku hissed through gritted teeth, her voice low and desperate. "Put me down. Now."
He didn't move. Instead, his smirk deepened, his eyes narrowing with playful mischief. "Why don't we give them something to really talk about?" he murmured.
In one smooth motion, Gin dipped her lower, his face lowering to hers. Her stomach did a strange little flip as his nose brushed her cheek before trailing down to the curve of her neck. She felt his breath against her skin and her body went rigid, her mind screaming at her to move, but she couldn't seem to find the words or the will.
The gasps around them grew louder, the murmurs escalating into full-blown chatter.
"Did you see that?"
"What is he doing?!"
"They're practically—"
Before things could spiral further, a loud, desperate "No!" tore through the crowd.
Gin paused, his nose still grazing her neck, as the two of them turned toward the source of the outburst. Standing there, pale as a sheet, was Ichiro. His wide eyes darted between them, disbelief and heartbreak etched across his face.
"Ichiro…" Rangiku whispered, guilt tugging at her chest.
His hands clenched into fists, and his face crumpled before he spun on his heel and bolted, shoving past the onlookers as he ran.
For a brief moment, Rangiku's heart ached for him. He was naive, but he didn't deserve that kind of pain. She let out a groan, covering her face with one hand. "This is not how I wanted this to go."
Gin, still holding her effortlessly, chuckled softly. "Well, it does solve your little admirer problem, doesn't it?"
She shot him a glare, though the effect was ruined by the furious blush still staining her cheeks.
"And," he continued, his voice low, "you're still in my arms."
She pushed against his chest, as the beating of her heart became unbearable, until he finally set her down with a chuckle. She quickly adjusted her soaked uniform, ignoring the still-watching crowd as best she could.
The moment Rangiku stormed off without another word, the market buzzed with renewed excitement.
The Gotei 13 now had a new rumor to feast on, and it was juicier and hotter than the last.
The whispers claimed that Lieutenant Ichimaru had finally had enough of little Ichiros and, in a grand display of audacity, had shown off his undying love for Rangiku Matsumoto for everyone to witness.