[Log] Gin Ichimaru, Sousuke Aizen

[formative]

Title: When You Were Young
Characters: Gin Ichimaru (lcpdragonslayer), Sousuke Aizen (formative)
Timeline: 30 April, 1926
Rating: G
Summary: A young accountant and a small matchbox boy take a break from their lives.


It still smelled like wet gravel from the incessant rain yesterday, and potholes on the streets were still filled with murky water. Gin hated it when it rained - he couldn't really do any work in the rain, and he usually had to resort to stealing food to survive or forage around for scraps and leftovers people had thrown out. Rain also meant that it would be wet, and cold; neither of which were particularly pleasant.

But today was a good day - the Sun was out, and it dried the streets out a little. The mood was generally more pleasant too, and Gin had already earned quite a decent sum of money, shining shoes and occasionally selling the odd matchbox or so.

"Hey kid. Don't suppose you've seen or heard about a guy named Carlo Allegne?"

Gin looked up at the man and tilted his head a little, eyeing him for a moment before his focus returned to the dull-looking but clean shoes.

"Yeh. I know Allegro. Seen 'im 'round. Got business wit' 'im?"

Gin was busy fiddling around with the shoe, missing the surprised look on his patron's face.

"What do you know about him?"

Gin shrugged as he used the cloth to polish the end of the shoe.

"Deals cheap drugs. Comes 'round 'ere ev'ry once in a while."
"Do you know who he works for?"
"Guy named Piacci. Ne'er seen 'im 'fore tho'."
"Piacci? Are you sure?"

Gin nodded, moving on to shine the other shoe.

"Do you know where Allegro is right now?"

Gin paused as he thought for a little while. He wasn't entirely familiar with street and avenue numbers even though he knew the city very well.

"Meant ta be 'round 'ere now but he din't come cuz o' the rain. Y'might catch
'im 'night or 'morrow in that alleyway behind Lone Star."
"Lone Star? The pub a few blocks away from here?"
"Mm."
"Great. Thanks a lot kid."

Gin's smile widened as he stood, sniffing as he draped the cloth over his shoulder. All done - and it was a job well done, if Gin could say so himself. He pulled back a little in surprise when his patron waved a bill in his face. He retrieved it slowly.

A dollar...

The man patted Gin's shoulder and walked away. Gin's gaze lingered on the man's back.

One whole dollar... he could live on this for a week.

He stuffed the bill into his pocket, scratching the back of his head. Hopefully he didn't just sell someone's life for a dollar.

Mister Rosenbaum had given Sousuke the rest of the afternoon off because there was no work left to be done. Said the old man. The young man knew for a fact that his employer was going to entertain a client who had to remain anonymous, which was a bit ridiculous, really; because it wasn’t as if there was anyone who didn’t know that their firm also did work for the mob.

It was hazardous to employ outsiders, he thought. Yes, the current Don was the biggest and baddest bastard in town but that position was not as secure as that old man thought it was. There were smaller groups lurking in the shadows, waiting for their opportunity to pounce. He knew a couple of them personally.

They’d suggested an alliance but Antonio wasn’t one who played nice with others - and neither was Aizen. The only reason why he and Toni worked so well together was because their strengths and skills complemented each other perfectly.

It was a very fruitful relationship they had - almost symbiotic in its nature.

Almost.

Sousuke meandered through the city somewhat randomly while he let his mind wander. There was a shipment coming in tonight. Slightly larger than what they usually handled but that was alright. It was time to raise the stakes, to grow. He had no desire to remain a small thief at the bottom forever. Neither did his partner.

A soft smile tugged at the young accountant’s lips when his gaze settled on a small figure at the corner ahead. The little matchbox boy was facing away from him, staring at what Aizen assumed was a previous patron’s back. That man - he looked slightly familiar…

Rolling up the newspaper he was carrying, Sousuke crossed the street, mindfully avoiding those dirty little puddles and approached the funny little kid. “I see the rain didn’t flush you away, Gin,” he said, tapping the silver head lightly with the paper and smiled. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Gin made a small, surprised noise and turned around at the crumpling noise and the light taps on his head. His confused look melded into a wide smile. Well, if it wasn’t Mista Aizen! He fiddled with the hair on his head until it was all more or less straightened again.

“Yeh? Will take more than jus’ a bit a’ rain ta get ridda me,” Gin said, grinning as he tilted his head a little. Rain was not as bad as the biting cold in winter’s twilight, even if getting wet was unpleasant.

“Came here ta buy a matchbox?” he asked, looking up at the face smiling back down at him. He still had a few stashed away under his stool.

Aizen laughed softly and ruffled the little street kid’s hair affectionately. It was astonishing that someone whose life was anything but rosy could smile and smile and smile as if none of it bothered them.

It was a valuable skill - being able to hide one’s true feelings behind a smile - and seeing it in someone so young… It interested him.

“Not now,” the dark-haired man replied, clamping the paper under his arm as he slipped his hand into his pocket. “I was about to have a late lunch. Perhaps you’d like to join me if you’re not too busy and can spare some time?” he added, his smile widening a bit.

Gin laughed. Not too busy? What could he ever be busy doing? Earning pennies to live on scraps? Getting spat on by passers-by? Getting beaten up by other people trying to steal his scraps from him?

“Yeh, sure. S’not like I gots anythin’ betta ta do,” he said, casting a gaze over at his little space. “Just wait a sec,” he added, and moved back to his area to tidy up. The box he used to sit on stored all his matchboxes and shoe-shining tools, and so he packed up everything in a matter of a few seconds and made his way back to Mista Aizen.

“Where’re ya goin’ fer late lunch?” Gin asked as he rejoined Aizen’s side, his box under his arm.

Aizen waited patiently for Gin to pack up his belongings, pleased by the prospect of having a lunch companion - by having this particular lunch companion. His gaze swept over the contents of the box Gin called his own.

A small box containing an equally small person’s possessions; it seemed wrong somehow but it wasn’t really surprising. The little silver-head could probably count himself lucky to have something to call his at all. Some other street kids didn’t even have a box, let alone things they could store inside it.

Sousuke looked down at small face and shrugged lightly. “I’m not sure,” he said thoughtfully, reaching up to adjust his hat. He could hardly take Gin to a diner, seeing how most shop owners weren’t particularly fond of homeless people.

“Sandwiches in the park, Gin? Fresh air’s good for the appetite.”

Gin could have guessed that the first place Mister Aizen would suggest is the park. It was one of the places Aizen seemed to like - Gin liked it too, often spending a good amount of time on his favourite bench at the end of the day, watching the trees, the birds, the people... It was a nice place.

“Okay,” he said, and he followed closely behind Aizen’s towering figure as they headed down the road. They made their way through a sea of nameless faces, and he nearly lost Aizen numerous times.

“How’s work been?”

Despite the throng surrounding them, the boy had not got lost or allowed himself to be separated from the dark-haired man. Aizen slowed down a little. For each step he took, Gin probably had to take three or four, and there was no need to drive the kid so hard.

“Full of numbers,” he replied lightly, letting his hand come to a rest on top of the silvery head briefly, “and not very exciting.” Accounting was not the most exciting profession a man could choose but Sousuke didn’t really mind. Numbers were easy, comfortable and predictable. They didn’t harbour nasty surprises, would never point a gun to his head or try to bludgeon him to death.

The young accountant bought a couple of sandwiches and two bottles of coke for him and his lunch companion. The crowd on the streets had grown even denser. “Hold on, Gin,” he said, offering his hand with a warm smile on his lips. “It’d be a shame to lose you in this sea of bodies.”

Well, no. Gin couldn’t even fathom having to work behind a desk staring at numbers all day and trying to punch things into machines. Sure, it would put a roof over his head and he wouldn’t have to live day to day, but he didn’t know if he could handle the sheer boredom of it all.

It worked as a good cover, he guessed. He knew Mister Aizen well enough to know that there was a lot going behind the scenes with the mild-mannered ‘accountant’, but he never really brought up the topic around Mister Aizen. There were a plethora of other things they could discuss, and after all he was one of the only friends Gin had.

He looked at the offered hand, and his gaze travelled up to Aizen’s smiling face before he looked back down at that hand again. Aizen wasn’t that much older than him, but that hand seemed a lot bigger. He reached up and curled his bony little fingers around Aizen’s last three fingers, which he could grip reasonably comfortably.

“Funneh ya call ‘em bodies. Most people call ‘em, well, people.”

“I did?” Aizen glanced at Gin curiously. It was interesting that the child had not only noticed but also realised how odd the choice of words was.

“They are people’s bodies, aren’t they?” Sousuke slung the bag containing their lunch over his shoulder, checking left and right before they crossed the street. “A mass of unfamiliar, meaningless faces, bleeding into each other, indistinguishable from one another; the only difference being their height and width. Bodies.”

Warm brown eyes sparkling with amusement focused on the silver-haired boy. “You said ‘most people’. What do you call them?”

Gin followed Aizen across the road, careful to sidestep potholes and puddles before climbing onto the pavement and heading over towards the park.

“Maybe, for Mista Aizen, lookin’ at numbers all day, all these people seem like bodies...” But Gin knew some of the faces in the sea of apparently nameless faces. Some of them were people who walked past everyday, others were people who would ask him questions, and still others were people who were involved in the answers to those questions. It wasn’t the same, because Aizen didn’t have to depend on these people to survive.

“I call ‘em people, I guess. But people’re... like matches,” he said after thinking for a bit. There was no better analogy he could think of. He looked up to Aizen and his smile widened. “Lots o’ matches squeezin’ ‘emselves into a matchbox, wanderin’ ‘round aimlessly, livin’ meaningless lives. They do the same stuff everyday, thinkin’ they’re doin’ sommin’ useful with their lives, but really they’re only burnin’ away, so slowly they don’t e’en notice it.”

Gin shrugged a bit. “Then s’too late. Match burns out n’ becomes useless.”

“Matches…” A peculiar little smile tugged at Aizen’s lips as he looked at his small companion. Gin was very perceptive for a child - perhaps too perceptive for his own good. With a little guidance and training the boy would…

Well, it was a pity that this potential was going to waste on the streets but such was life he supposed.

The wooden bench - their bench - was relatively dry thanks to the sun. Sousuke still put the folded newspaper onto the seat for Gin just in case. Having a damp bottom could be quite inconvenient and uncomfortable especially when one didn’t have the chance to change one’s pants.

With a smile he lifted the child onto the bench and settled down with a soft sigh himself, turning his face towards the sun. They had this part of the park almost completely to themselves it seemed, for not many people went for a walk after a day of heavy rain. Too tied up in their conventions and habits they didn’t know what they were missing.

Matches, bodies - it didn’t make any difference whether one called them one or the other because underneath the life and liveliness they simulated, they remained inanimate things.

The accountant took off his hat and dropped it onto the small silver head before he uncapped one the bottles on the edge of the bench. “Pastrami or roast beef, Gin?” he asked, peering into the bag.

Gin shifted around on the bench, crinkling up the newspaper and making rustling noises. He almost felt special, sitting on some newspaper on the bench. He looked down at the small print idly. He couldn’t read nor did he have bionic vision, so the sheets were meaningless to him, but he could still see and guess what the editors were writing about using the snippets of pictures.

He tilted his head up and lifted his gaze, trying to look at the odd-shaped hat that was flopped over his head. It was a bit lopsided, and he probably looked ridiculous with it, but he left it alone nonetheless, his smile widening a bit.

“Mmm... I don’t mind either,” he replied. It was rare he had the chance to actually choose what he wanted to eat for lunch. It wasn’t just because of the food that the older man occasionally provided that made Gin like Mister Aizen. Sitting with him on the park bench, like this, or having a conversation which only the two of them could have, having a frame of mind that only Mister Aizen seemed to understand and appreciate - it was... special.

Being around Mister Aizen was like being picked up out of hell for a moment in time and having something to really smile about. Not everyone was as lucky as Gin to have someone like that around.

Uncertain about how healthy smoked and heavily spiced meat was for kids, Aizen retrieved the roast beef one and handed it to the boy. “There you go,” he said and unwrapped his own. The shop owner must have felt generous today, seeing how the meat was spilling out around the edges.

Stretching his legs out, Sousuke leaned back and took a bite. It was rather spicy - spicier even than usual even for New York pastrami. Maybe the cook was in love? Coughing softly, he tore off a piece of bread and hoped it would take away some of the sting.

“Say, Gin.” The young accountant paused when he realised that he sounded a little croaky and cleared his throat. “How long have you been living independently?” he asked, throwing a small piece of bread at the small group of ducks that had gathered in the pond in front of them.

Small fingers gripped the sandwich and peered at it for a moment before pulling off the wrapping. It was... really big. He nibbled off a small corner of the sandwich, chewing quietly. It was an odd... explosion of flavour on his palette that had grown accustomed to stale and tasteless food. He took another small bite, making the indent on the sandwich a little larger.

He was busy trying to pry a pickle from the sandwich (Gin would rather starve to death than eat that) when Mister Aizen asked him a difficult question. He didn’t keep track of time - couldn’t, really, living from one day to the next, only able to distinguish the weekends from the weekdays by the amount of people and their kids roaming on the streets.

He flung the pickle to the floor, watching it go splat on the grass. A duck waddled over to inspect it tentatively before deciding that it, too, disliked pickles, and waddled away.

“Maybe four years now, if ya mean when I left home, but I don’t really keep track,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “But if ya mean havin’ ta live by myself, then I guess... since the beginning? My mum was too busy fucking any man that would pay her fer it to notice me.”

He looked up at Mister Aizen with a small tilt of his head, smiling an innocent smile that concealed small blue orbs.

“Your… mom?” Sousuke raised an eyebrow and cast a sideways glance at the boy. He was more surprised to hear that Gin had a parent than by the crude language spilling from the child’s mouth because somehow he had always been under the impression that Gin’s parents were dead.

Well, to Gin they probably were.

Aizen chuckled softly and wondered how much longer the little fox would be able to hold on to that child-like innocence in his smile. It would certainly be interesting to watch it shatter and see what would emerge from the ruins. If Gin managed to stay alive long enough for that to happen…

“I suppose your life now has improved in quality compared to your life at that… woman’s place. She doesn’t sound like a pleasant person.” Reaching out he adjusted the oversized hat that looked like it wanted to swallow the matchbox boy’s head and smiled. “And you’re your own master and not a mindless little matchstick burning away,” he added with a soft chuckle.

Well, that remained to be seen.

Improved in quality? Well... the little apartment was small, and dirty, and no matter which corner he tried to sleep in to escape the filth, he could always hear her getting it on with a greasy old man, and it drove him insane.

It wasn't just the dirty noises - it drove him insane to know that he was only worth as much as whatever the guy who got her pregnant paid that night, drove him insane to know that she'd rather spend her money on alcohol, drugs and cigarettes than food and trying to pay off the bills. He was the one who had to take care of her, even though she never cared about him and would rather he vanish.

And so he did. He vanished, just as she always hoped for. The streets were only a little worse off than what the house had been like, and life was harsher, but he liked his new home. He did what he could to earn his own money, got to see the world outside, got to eat proper meals and sleep at night wherever he wanted to without having to listen to sex going on in the background.

Plus... he got to meet people like Mister Aizen. Mister Aizen sometimes brought him food, like now, and sometimes they would sit and talk and, for a brief moment in time, the little matchstick that was Gin's life would stop burning.

"Nah," he said, taking another nibble of his sandwich. Even though he was a little hungry, it was really big, and briefly he wondered if he could even finish half of it.

"I'm a matchstick, just like everyone else. I do the same sorts a' things everyday just ta get by. No purpose, no meaning, barely an existence; runnin' around like ev'ryone else like lambs to the slaughter."

“My, my, aren’t you a cheerful little fella?” Aizen laughed softly and shook his head. Taking another bite of his lunch, he glanced across the pond and chewed thoughtfully. A lamb to the slaughter Gin certainly wasn’t.

It was true, however, that the boy’s current existence didn’t seem to have a real purpose.

While Sousuke found him entertaining and enjoyed the silver-haired child’s company, that alone didn’t really make that small life more meaningful, did it?

“Does it bother you? Not having a purpose I mean.” Wrapping the other half of his sandwich up, the accountant put it back into the bag and wiped his fingers on a napkin. Too much meat.

“It won’t come to you on its own,” he added, casting a sideways glance at the little fox. “Most people think that if they wait long enough, it will reveal itself but it doesn’t really work like that. If it did, there wouldn’t be so many… bodies populating the city.

“A clever lad like you shouldn’t let himself go to waste like that.”

Gin looked past the hat at Mister Aizen for a moment, and turned away, his smile faltering a bit. Did it bother him that he did not have a purpose? Well... sometimes it did - whenever he got the chance to sit down and do nothing, or the nights where he could not sleep, he would question himself sometimes. What was he doing, trying to scrimp and save and survive in a place like this. Bitterly cold nights or getting himself soaked in rain made Gin wonder if there was a particular reason why he fought so hard to live.

There was nothing to be gained. Street kids like him never lasted long - they got bullied by others and die off, or they join gangs to get killed off by other gangs. He would never be able to get out of the streets, and he would probably end up as a homeless man in some alleyway no one walks down if he even lived that long.

"Ya think so?" he said, tilting his head a little just so he could look at Mister Aizen from out of the corner of his eye, smirking. Mister Aizen sure knew what to say to stroke all the right places. He took another small bite out of his sandwich, still thinking about an answer.

"I guess it bothers me from time ta time. I don't know what I'm doin' anymore sometimes, but there's lil' I can do ta get outta the vicious cycle. S'not like I'm good at anythin', nor do I gots anythin' better ta do wit' my time."

He rubbed at the back of his neck thoughtfully.

"But there's no point fightin' so much if it means nuffin' in the end, y'know. It'll be nice... ta be workin' towards sommin', I guess."

“You’re still alive and doing a good job keeping it that way.” Aizen fished a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and shook one out, clamping it between his lips. “But you’re right,” he continued as reached into his other pocket for matches. “Living just for the sake of living’s…” A small frown creased his forehead when his fingers encountered nothing but lint.

“It does seem a bit pointless I suppose.” The dark-haired man patted his other pockets. He was sure he’d remembered to take a box of matches with him when he left the house. Apparently not.

Sighing softly, Sousuke ran his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes briefly. There was nothing more pathetic than a smoker without a light. Folding his hands behind his neck, he crossed his legs at the ankles and canted his head back.

“But if you stay alive long enough,” he said, gazing at the clouds in the sky, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, “something good will eventually come your way.”

Gin found that almost contradictory - Mister Aizen had said moments ago that a purpose was not going to find him if he waited around idly, and yet now Mister Aizen was saying that if he stayed alive long enough...

Perhaps Mister Aizen meant something different, but Gin was confused either way. Regardless, he eyed the cigarette for a moment before wrapping his sandwich back up. He had probably managed to eat a quarter of it. Sitting it on the bench to his side, he reached for his box of possessions. Shuffling around, small, nimble hands found a box of matches. Clutching it, Gin closed the box back up before holding the matches out to Mister Aizen.

"Something good - like a matchbox?" Gin teased, smiling as he swung his legs back and forth under the bench. The little silver fox was not the optimistic type, but if Mister Aizen said that something good would eventually come, then it probably would. Mister Aizen was not the type to lie, after all.

For now, Mister Aizen seemed to like him, or at least enjoy his company. It was not exactly a proper purpose, but if Gin could make someone happy, then surely it had to mean something.

Aizen blinked. A matchbox? Sitting up a little straighter, he looked at Gin curiously and wondered what had triggered that response. Surely the boy’s world didn’t revolve around matchboxes and shoe shine only? There had to be something else, something less trivial?

He plucked his cigarette from his mouth, ready to put the thoughts that had just run through his head into words when finally the penny dropped. Oh…

“Yeah, something like that. Thanks.” The young accountant chuckled softly at himself and put a quarter into the small palm of the silver fox’s hand before he lit his tobacco stick up. The smoke escaped with a soft sigh and Sousuke wished he could spend the rest of the day simply sitting on this bench and doing nothing.

Unfortunately, however, it seemed as if his little life-saver had finished already and Aizen didn’t want to waste more of the boy’s time than he already had. “Ready for a stroll back?”

Gin pulled his hand down and looked at the shiny, silver quarter. It was far too much for a matchbox, and Gin... he didn’t really want money from Mister Aizen. Well, Mister Aizen gave him money every so often, but... it just... felt strange. Plus, Mister Aizen already brought him a large sandwich, and spent his lunch time with him, and...

And so many other things.

He leaned back against the backrest of the bench, still eyeing the shiny quarter. It was a big coin in his hand - it looked a lot smaller in Mister Aizen’s hand, and it probably meant nothing to the older man. But for Gin, well... a quarter meant a world of difference.

“Yeah, I guess,” Gin said in response, taking Mister Aizen’s hat off his head. He had probably taken up too much of the older man’s time. Gin offered the hat back.

“Thanks.”

Aizen smiled warmly and patted the silver head, marvelling at how small it was. Carrying his hat in one hand, his other resting lightly on a tiny, bony shoulder, he walked Gin back to the corner where he’d picked the boy up.

“Thank you kindly for your time, young master Gin,” he said in a slightly comical manner and inclined his head. “I hope I didn’t interrupt your business for too long…”

“Hey, paisan! Hey! SOU! ”

The accountant’s smile fell when he heard a familiar voice shout his name across the street and turned around, positioning himself between the matchbox boy and the young Italian who came rushing towards them. There was no need to expose Gin to the sometimes too enthusiastic business partner of his.

“Where ya been? Went to yer office to pick ya up but that pretty cherry lips said ya left early.”
“There wasn’t much work-”
“Yeah, yeah, ya can tell me later. Did ya hear? There’s gonna be a delay cuz them umbrellas were held up at the ya-know-what. Tryin’ to get through there in broad daylight… Those bubs ain’t too smart, eh?”

“Neither are you, Toni.” Aizen replied flatly, wishing his partner would finally learn how to use his inside voice outside as well.

“Yer always so funny, Sou. C’mon! Just cuz they’re late doesn’t mean we can sit back ‘n pick our noses.” Laughing the Italian threw his arm around his partner’s shoulders and dragged him away.

Sousuke cast a glance over his shoulder at Gin and winked at the boy in lieu of saying a proper goodbye before he shrugged Toni’s arm off and put his hat back on. Sliding his hands into his pockets he walked away and listened to the other man’s babbling carefully to filter out the important parts for later.

‘Young master Gin’? Where did that come from? Gin stifled a laugh and was about to reply when Mister Aizen’s face changed. Gin had to tilt his head out the side of Mister Aizen’s body to see what might have caused the change in expression.

It looked like one of Mister Aizen’s friends, or someone who worked with him. Why wasn’t he happy to see a friend? And why were they talking about... that... Was that kind of thing what Mister Aizen was up to?

Gin’s smile only widened as he watched Mister Aizen’s figure retreat into the crowds, blending in to the many suits roaming the streets.

Mister Aizen’s friend... he didn’t even look at me once... We live in two different worlds, Mister Aizen... worlds so far apart, sometimes I can barely see your shadow.

This was the part he hated the most; Mister Aizen leaving. It had always left him feeling empty and saddened. He knew he would see the man again soon, but returning to reality - this kind of reality - it wasn’t something Gin particularly enjoyed.

And even though he wasn’t particularly happy, Gin still smiled. He’d see Mister Aizen again, and even if everyone else thought of him as trash and didn’t even bother looking at him, so long as he meant something to Mister Aizen - to one person - then that would suffice.