Fanfiction : Bleach - Keep Your Smile On The Way Down
Title: Keep Your Smile On The Way Down.
Type: Fanfiction : Bleach.
Prompt: Smile! (though I think it was meant to be something related to photography, instead of this... thing I've churned out).
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, in any form or way. Kubo Tite owns them, and my secret dream is to marry him.
Rating: Um. G R for Gin?
Word Count: 1,249 words.
Summary: It's easy to bend another's will to fit your own, isn't it, Gin? [ GinKira ]. One-shot.
Author's Note: Set in Vice-Captain!Gin/New-Shinigami!Kira 'Verse, because they're pretty there and Kira isn't quite so broken yet. Somehow, this piece is one of my favouritest yet. I think it's because I attempt to illustrate as to why Kira is too loyal to Ichimaru in one way and well, although this fic can still use more substance, I'm quite contented as to how it turns out. I love feedbacks and thank you for reading!
keep your smile on the way down
1.
Gin smiles a lot, lips permanently curved into that crescent of cheerfulness and invitation and mock and malice. Some even suspected that he was born into Rukongai with that same damned smile on his face - like he finds even death amusing. He wields his sword as if he is a jester in a court of fools, silver blade an extension to his very soul, sharp as his smiles. That persistent sly quirk of lips and they suspect that he’s laughing at everything and everyone.
Close enough, but Gin isn’t going to tell them that.
Part of his charm is that nobody understands him.
And he likes to keep it that way.
When it comes to Izuru though, the most observant of onlookers can tell that Gin’s smiles are different. Aizen’s vice captain and that ambitious new shinigami in the Fifth Division - the rumour mill starts grinding away at Izuru’s first blush upon being on the receiving end of a random compliment from the eccentric vice captain. The infamous smiles turn sharper around the edges, almost feral in their careless intensity whenever the bright-eyed blonde is around. Softens at the most unexpected of moments, only to sear and scorch the next second. A fox laying a trap, patience in his bones and cruelty underneath his skin.
“Practicin’ so late at night?”
“Ichimaru-fukutaichou! I didn’t see you there!”
“Jus’ out fer a walk, blondie. Whatcha name?”
“Kira, sir. Kira Izuru!”
“Izuru, eh? Nice ta meet ya, ‘Zuru.”
“I’m… Fukutaichou? Wha-?”
“Shhh~ Lemme see… there! Ya look better with yer hair like that.”
“I…”
“See ya later, na?”
“O-Of course, Ichimaru-fukutaichou!”
Hook. Line. Sinker.
Gin wonders if he should ask Aizen-taichou to go fishing during the weekends.
2.
Rangiku says nothing when Gin walks past the Tenth Division’s headquarter, chatting cheerfully with a flustered-looking blonde, silver head bent over golden in an act that echoes intimacy and possessiveness. She pauses from her current task though, abandons the paperwork due to be sent to her captain by lunchtime and follows the odd pair’s progress with her eyes. Curiosity makes her lean closer to the opened window - half-cast bamboo blind screens her from direct view. Rumours provide her with a name - one Kira Izuru of the Fifth Division, and she puzzles over Gin’s intention.
Why?
Izuru seems ordinary enough, with nothing exceptional that can distinguish him from other low-ranking shinigami. He comes from a low class noble family, as told by the grapevine, with sky-high ambitions and visions of glory guiding him to Seireitei. Pledges loyalty to an honourable role of protectors over the unaware mortals, to expectations of death if one is not good enough.
Just like everyone else.
Why him, Gin?
Gin whispers something to Izuru and the blonde ducks his head, turns red and shyly mutters back. Gin’s hand fits around Izuru’s back perhaps a little too well, drapes over the shoulder and long, tapered fingers a breadth away from impossibly-slender neck. Fingers that toy with wisps of gold hair, curl around the neck, closer and closer and closer…
Rangiku bites her lip and look away.
She misses the brief glance Gin sends her way, crimson red peeking through the slit of an opened eye.
Gin’s smile widens.
3.
Gin asks for Izuru when he receives an order to obliterate a particularly stubborn Hollow near Karakura.
He pokes at the death butterfly fluttering in front of him, doesn’t make a sound when Izuru comes running from the other end of Seireitei, where his unit of fresh graduates patrols. The blonde drops to his knees once he arrives, gasping for breathe but otherwise as silent as always. Obedience forged deep inside his mind and Gin turns to acknowledge Izuru’s presence with a pleased grin.
“Izuru, we’re goin’ huntin’ today~”
“Yes, Ichimaru-fukutaichou!”
Gin waves at Aizen-taichou in his way out, Izuru a proper distance away from him.
Aizen-taichou smiles back, remarks to Momo that Gin looks happy, isn’t he?
Momo nods and pours tea for her captain.
He neglects to mention that it is not necessarily a good thing for pretty, obedient Izuru.
4.
“Need any help?”
Kira coughs, one hand pressing against his shoulder, over ripped uniform and bleeding flesh. His face contorts in pain, more from Gin’s words than his injury, and he mutters a quick ‘no, sir’ to his superior, before gripping Wabisuke’s hilt with both hands once again. Wabisuke hums in distress and Izuru grits his teeth stubbornly, stands gallant and strong in front of Gin.
Foolish.
Gin is almost amused at how determined Izuru can be when he chooses to.
The Hollow howls above them and lashes out its horns-tipped tails, faster and faster than before in its desperation to escape. Izuru fends off all but one, and he raises a hand in time to stop the last tail from reaching Gin, ignores the horns that pierce right through skin and sinews and swings Wabisuke in one upward arc that cut off the offending limb. Izuru leaps forward the next second, silver blade singing in vengeance and nearly manages to land a critical blow when Gin gasps.
Just one tiny gasp and Izuru looks back, panic in large, green eyes.
He sees Gin’s smile, wide and mischievous, one finger pointing at his right.
A tail slams into his midriff from the left.
Izuru tastes blood on his tongue, feels sticky liquid coats his skin and doesn’t quite remember why he is in Gin’s room when he wakes up. He lies perfectly still on the futon, silent and aching everywhere, until he hears the sliding door creaks open and the soft footsteps that follow. His body refuses to respond when he tries to sit up and Izuru chokes in surprise when Gin flops down besides him, all long limbs and graceful sprawl and wide grin.
“Feelin’ better?”
Izuru nods slowly, keeps his eyes on the sharp curves of Gin’s face.
Gin leans forward, hovers just inches away from Izuru and the grin is as sharp as ever. “Ya made quite a mess out there.”
“I-I’m sorry-”
Thin fingers skitter over his bandaged chest, press down at tender spots and Izuru struggles to not wince even as he feels wetness begins to seep and spread over the bandages. Gin tilts his head to a side and regards Izuru with what he wants to believe as sympathy. “Pity, na~ I was hopin’ ta see ya finish tha’ thing back there.”
There are words of apologies at the tip of his tongue, but a look from Gin and Izuru swallows them.
Gin pets his head, tells him to get well soon because Aizen-taichou won’t play with him anymore and he misses his cute Izuru terribly and isn’t that just awful? He halts at the sliding door in his way out, voice loud in the stillness of the room. "Maa… don’t disappoint me again, na, ‘Zuru-chan~”
The door slides shut with a sibilant hiss.
Izuru rests the back of his hand against his closed eyes and pretends that the tears streaking down his cheek are caused by the waning effect of painkillers.
In the darkness, he sees Gin, sees faith instead of malice and he drowns a little bit more.
"Maa… don’t disappoint me again, na, ‘Zuru-chan~”
In the darkness, he answers with his vow written in blood and sealed with a smile.
“Never, Ichimaru-fukutaichou."
In the darkness, Gin smiles at him.
And Izuru believes that it is real for once.
END
Concrits are very much loved and welcomed~♥
Type: Fanfiction : Bleach.
Prompt: Smile! (though I think it was meant to be something related to photography, instead of this... thing I've churned out).
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, in any form or way. Kubo Tite owns them, and my secret dream is to marry him.
Rating: Um. G R for Gin?
Word Count: 1,249 words.
Summary: It's easy to bend another's will to fit your own, isn't it, Gin? [ GinKira ]. One-shot.
Author's Note: Set in Vice-Captain!Gin/New-Shinigami!Kira 'Verse, because they're pretty there and Kira isn't quite so broken yet. Somehow, this piece is one of my favouritest yet. I think it's because I attempt to illustrate as to why Kira is too loyal to Ichimaru in one way and well, although this fic can still use more substance, I'm quite contented as to how it turns out. I love feedbacks and thank you for reading!
keep your smile on the way down
1.
Gin smiles a lot, lips permanently curved into that crescent of cheerfulness and invitation and mock and malice. Some even suspected that he was born into Rukongai with that same damned smile on his face - like he finds even death amusing. He wields his sword as if he is a jester in a court of fools, silver blade an extension to his very soul, sharp as his smiles. That persistent sly quirk of lips and they suspect that he’s laughing at everything and everyone.
Close enough, but Gin isn’t going to tell them that.
Part of his charm is that nobody understands him.
And he likes to keep it that way.
When it comes to Izuru though, the most observant of onlookers can tell that Gin’s smiles are different. Aizen’s vice captain and that ambitious new shinigami in the Fifth Division - the rumour mill starts grinding away at Izuru’s first blush upon being on the receiving end of a random compliment from the eccentric vice captain. The infamous smiles turn sharper around the edges, almost feral in their careless intensity whenever the bright-eyed blonde is around. Softens at the most unexpected of moments, only to sear and scorch the next second. A fox laying a trap, patience in his bones and cruelty underneath his skin.
“Practicin’ so late at night?”
“Ichimaru-fukutaichou! I didn’t see you there!”
“Jus’ out fer a walk, blondie. Whatcha name?”
“Kira, sir. Kira Izuru!”
“Izuru, eh? Nice ta meet ya, ‘Zuru.”
“I’m… Fukutaichou? Wha-?”
“Shhh~ Lemme see… there! Ya look better with yer hair like that.”
“I…”
“See ya later, na?”
“O-Of course, Ichimaru-fukutaichou!”
Hook. Line. Sinker.
Gin wonders if he should ask Aizen-taichou to go fishing during the weekends.
2.
Rangiku says nothing when Gin walks past the Tenth Division’s headquarter, chatting cheerfully with a flustered-looking blonde, silver head bent over golden in an act that echoes intimacy and possessiveness. She pauses from her current task though, abandons the paperwork due to be sent to her captain by lunchtime and follows the odd pair’s progress with her eyes. Curiosity makes her lean closer to the opened window - half-cast bamboo blind screens her from direct view. Rumours provide her with a name - one Kira Izuru of the Fifth Division, and she puzzles over Gin’s intention.
Why?
Izuru seems ordinary enough, with nothing exceptional that can distinguish him from other low-ranking shinigami. He comes from a low class noble family, as told by the grapevine, with sky-high ambitions and visions of glory guiding him to Seireitei. Pledges loyalty to an honourable role of protectors over the unaware mortals, to expectations of death if one is not good enough.
Just like everyone else.
Why him, Gin?
Gin whispers something to Izuru and the blonde ducks his head, turns red and shyly mutters back. Gin’s hand fits around Izuru’s back perhaps a little too well, drapes over the shoulder and long, tapered fingers a breadth away from impossibly-slender neck. Fingers that toy with wisps of gold hair, curl around the neck, closer and closer and closer…
Rangiku bites her lip and look away.
She misses the brief glance Gin sends her way, crimson red peeking through the slit of an opened eye.
Gin’s smile widens.
3.
Gin asks for Izuru when he receives an order to obliterate a particularly stubborn Hollow near Karakura.
He pokes at the death butterfly fluttering in front of him, doesn’t make a sound when Izuru comes running from the other end of Seireitei, where his unit of fresh graduates patrols. The blonde drops to his knees once he arrives, gasping for breathe but otherwise as silent as always. Obedience forged deep inside his mind and Gin turns to acknowledge Izuru’s presence with a pleased grin.
“Izuru, we’re goin’ huntin’ today~”
“Yes, Ichimaru-fukutaichou!”
Gin waves at Aizen-taichou in his way out, Izuru a proper distance away from him.
Aizen-taichou smiles back, remarks to Momo that Gin looks happy, isn’t he?
Momo nods and pours tea for her captain.
He neglects to mention that it is not necessarily a good thing for pretty, obedient Izuru.
4.
“Need any help?”
Kira coughs, one hand pressing against his shoulder, over ripped uniform and bleeding flesh. His face contorts in pain, more from Gin’s words than his injury, and he mutters a quick ‘no, sir’ to his superior, before gripping Wabisuke’s hilt with both hands once again. Wabisuke hums in distress and Izuru grits his teeth stubbornly, stands gallant and strong in front of Gin.
Foolish.
Gin is almost amused at how determined Izuru can be when he chooses to.
The Hollow howls above them and lashes out its horns-tipped tails, faster and faster than before in its desperation to escape. Izuru fends off all but one, and he raises a hand in time to stop the last tail from reaching Gin, ignores the horns that pierce right through skin and sinews and swings Wabisuke in one upward arc that cut off the offending limb. Izuru leaps forward the next second, silver blade singing in vengeance and nearly manages to land a critical blow when Gin gasps.
Just one tiny gasp and Izuru looks back, panic in large, green eyes.
He sees Gin’s smile, wide and mischievous, one finger pointing at his right.
A tail slams into his midriff from the left.
Izuru tastes blood on his tongue, feels sticky liquid coats his skin and doesn’t quite remember why he is in Gin’s room when he wakes up. He lies perfectly still on the futon, silent and aching everywhere, until he hears the sliding door creaks open and the soft footsteps that follow. His body refuses to respond when he tries to sit up and Izuru chokes in surprise when Gin flops down besides him, all long limbs and graceful sprawl and wide grin.
“Feelin’ better?”
Izuru nods slowly, keeps his eyes on the sharp curves of Gin’s face.
Gin leans forward, hovers just inches away from Izuru and the grin is as sharp as ever. “Ya made quite a mess out there.”
“I-I’m sorry-”
Thin fingers skitter over his bandaged chest, press down at tender spots and Izuru struggles to not wince even as he feels wetness begins to seep and spread over the bandages. Gin tilts his head to a side and regards Izuru with what he wants to believe as sympathy. “Pity, na~ I was hopin’ ta see ya finish tha’ thing back there.”
There are words of apologies at the tip of his tongue, but a look from Gin and Izuru swallows them.
Gin pets his head, tells him to get well soon because Aizen-taichou won’t play with him anymore and he misses his cute Izuru terribly and isn’t that just awful? He halts at the sliding door in his way out, voice loud in the stillness of the room. "Maa… don’t disappoint me again, na, ‘Zuru-chan~”
The door slides shut with a sibilant hiss.
Izuru rests the back of his hand against his closed eyes and pretends that the tears streaking down his cheek are caused by the waning effect of painkillers.
In the darkness, he sees Gin, sees faith instead of malice and he drowns a little bit more.
"Maa… don’t disappoint me again, na, ‘Zuru-chan~”
In the darkness, he answers with his vow written in blood and sealed with a smile.
“Never, Ichimaru-fukutaichou."
In the darkness, Gin smiles at him.
And Izuru believes that it is real for once.
END
Concrits are very much loved and welcomed~♥